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ok-au-tournament · 1 year

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SUBMITTED BY: @bubbleberryuniverse

Part two of Sami Rambling About Its Apocalyptic AU, with more stuff about a!TKO and a!KO! Strap yourselves in, this is gonna be a LONG one.

...

I mentioned last night that TKO is up with the villains, while KO is down hiding, underground, with the heroes. And there is so much information to this, cause despite being separated, there are so many similarities and parallels between these two.

Like...

KO is hiding in small underground areas, away from the villains while, like I mentioned, TKO is up with the villains. And while he's generally not forced to survive in a dangerous place in the way KO is, he definitely has to in a different way. Cause he's up there with the villains who caused this mess, including Shadowy.

TKO never had anyone there for him, either, unlike KO, even after separation. Cause he existed, was in the cage, and then with Shadowy after the separation and immediately manipulated. He never got to experience any kind of love or anyone even caring for him as a parent, just villains hurting other people and being so violent and literally destroying the world in order to win. There's, like, so little left.

I've imaged the sky being red, like how it is in the finale after the sun dies, cause the sun is dead. And there's just dirt and debris scattered around as far as people can see. Rocks and remnants of old buildings, broken sidewalks, and just... various things that just scream apocalypse. Absolutely little to nothing is left up there, and there's absolutely little to nothing underground. Both heroes and villains are struggling to survive, but the villains still take the win because the heroes are the ones hiding in fear for their lives.

You can get a general idea of just how it is for TKO by this general information. ESPECIALLY as a younger TKO that more recently started existing. The apocalypse generally has been a thing for about a year [in terms of timeline in regards to when a potential fic would take place], so he's been in this horrid environment for a long, long time. He's taught himself to pretty much suppress any feelings that AREN'T anger and rage, and has pretty much learned violence is what he needs to do to survive.

It's BAD. Horrible. And he's told and manipulated by Shadowy that if he killed and got rid of KO, that everything bad would go away. That he could be happy. And he believes him, because why wouldn't he?

When the apocalypse first started, there was a bit of that manipulation, but it wasn't as BAD. His first interaction with KO in the apocalypse is him attacking him with just a tinge of hesitance, but by the year point of the apocalypse, it's absolutely just cold-blooded, deep-seated rage. He's latched onto this idea that KO is GENUINELY the root of ALL his problems and unhappiness and torment, and the desire to kill him grows the more Shadowy tells him that doing that will make it better. It's like his purpose; that's what he believes. Murdering KO in the most violent way he can is his way out of misery and by cob, he wants OUT.

The thing is though he actually doesn't WANT to kill him. But he's suppressed that so hard that he genuinely believes he wants to, and even if he doesn't want to, he needs to. There's no other option in his mind. He firmly absolutely believes this is what he wants AND needs, and any doubt about him actually wanting KO dead is suppressed harder than KO ever ended up suppressing anything. This is, unfortunately, something he has to figure out the hard way, but I won't get into that...

KO is scared of him, though, and rightfully so. Because TKO wants him dead, and he knows this. Any interaction they had during the apocalypse, as very scarce as they were, ended up with KO getting hurt. And TKO being very clear about his goals. TKO absolutely terrifies the shit out of KO, because holy shit, that kid is ANGRY and he's POWERFUL.

I also sometimes think about how KO would've apologized if he could have. If he wasn't scared if TKO, he'd apologize to him for keeping him locked up in a cage. And just... everything in general. As he's a season one KO, though, he doesn't really know about TKO in the way other season two KOs might, but... still. It wouldn't have made it better or fixed it, but cob, the kid genuinely WANTS to apologize to him, but the sheer terror he feels when he simply hears his name is just... too much. It's SO good, man, I love the way these characters are.

They could've gotten along like siblings, honestly. If one wasn't actively seeking out to kill the other, and the other wasn't actively terrified of the one that wants him DEAD. AUGH... I love these two children so much, they deserve so much better. They're both seeking someone to love and care about them, in a way.

KO is stuck without a parental or even an older sibling figure for, like, a year (he's surviving with Colewort and Potato), and when he DOES have an adult show up, it's... it still sucks. He's alone and feeling super useless and just wants his mom, Rad, Enid, or SOMEBODY to be there. Even if the two people he's simply working with to survive care about him, he's... it still sucks, you know? I'll get into more stuff with KO in a different post though, he's got a lot, too!

But TKO is in a very similar situation. Except he's surrounded by villains who aren't anywhere close to good adult figures. All he has is Shadowy, who... is Shadowy. He may absolutely deny the fact that he really needs and wants someone to care about and love him, but that's absolutely something he does want. AUGH... one of my favorite things is that he just doesn't feel like he can call Carol his mom. He'll just call her KO's mom. And this absolutely lives in my brain so much. Cob, get this kid some blankets, please! Both of them. Blankets, hot chocolate, and lots of love.

One more detail I want to share before I send this off is the tape recorder.

They both have a half of the tape recorder in each of their subconsciouses. It's super, duper deep in there, and they never go to their minds, so they'll never know about it, but I do and I AM TELLING YOU.

It got split during their separation and it doesn't really work. It'll sputter and spit out some words and gargled static and noises, but otherwise, they're completely non-functional. But I love thinking about this, cause it has a lot of meaning behind it, which I absolutely SLURP up. And even if you repaired each one in their mind somehow, they wouldn't even be legible. Not very legible, anyway. Which is one of my FAVORITE things. I can't quite explain the entire way that this detail makes me feel, or how important this is in the grand scheme of viewing their separation and how it's affected them. But it's just... SO impactful, man.

I love these children and all the funky details and I will be back another time with more :) Feel free to ask me questions if you want I will happily do so 👁️

#submission #bubbleberryuniverse #apocalyptic!ko #apocalyptic!tko #apocalyptic au #manipulation #seperation #ok ko #ok ko au #angst

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

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I’m From Brooklyn, Too ~ 142

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

I’M FROM BROOKLYN, TOO MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,065ish

Summary: Y/N tells Tony the truth, after all this time. The Team learns about the Stones.

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time. (Gifs are not mine.)

Previous on Out Of Time…

“Tony…” She tried to turn away, but Tony grabbed onto her arms, keeping her facing him.

“No, you don’t get to run away right now. I need an answer. If we’re going to do this, bring everyone back. I need to know the truth, once and for all. That I wasn’t the second choice, that I wasn’t just the only option so you went for it… So, tell me, would you have chosen me if Barnes was still here?”

Y/N pursed her lips and looked away, staying silent. But that was enough of an answer for Tony. Tony scoffed softly and shook his head.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Tony said. “In some twisted up way, I’ve always seen this coming.”

“Tony,” emotions were building in her throat and eyes as she said his name. “I’m so very sorry.”

“That day you were trying to tell me something and i was rambling on about my dream about Morgan… you were trying to end this… Weren’t you?”

“Yes,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. You have to believe me when I say that I love you so much too. It’s just… he’s—“

“Your first.” Tony sighed as he ran his hand down his face. “I don’t know how I thought I could even compare to what you two have… a love that transcends time.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” She grasped onto his hand, scared to lose him even still. “I really am… And I really do love you.”

“I know, cause you wouldn’t have stuck around if you didn’t.” Tony pulled away from her and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a moment.” He turned and quickly have her head a kiss. “Go to bed. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Then he left without another word, shutting the door to their bedroom behind him. Y/N burst into sobs. Yes, she loved Bucky and he was the one she wanted. But she loved Tony and had grown used to the life they had made together.

And if this plan didn’t work, Y/N knew she had just destroyed her daughter’s family.

~~~

Morning came and it was clear to everyone that there was something wrong with Y/N and Tony. Everyone was just too afraid or preoccupied to say anything. They ate breakfast in different rooms and when it came time for them to gather with the team to talk about the Stones, they placed themselves on opposite ends of the room.

“What’s going on?” Natasha whispered to Y/N.

Y/N bit her lip as she answered with a shake of her head, unable to look at Natasha. Taking a hint, Nat reached over and held Y/N’s hand as Steve began.

“Okay, so the how works,” Steve said. “Now we gotta figure out the when and the where. Almost all of us has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones.”

“Well I'd substitute the word encounter for damn well near been killed by one of the six Infinity Stones,” Tony said. “Or is connected with them.”

Y/N took in a harsh breath as she felt the stares of everyone in the room. Natasha gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Glancing towards Tony, she met his gaze. He looked heartbroken, which was breaking Y/N.

“I haven’t,” Scott cut in. “I don't even know what the hell you're all talking about.”

“Regardless, we only have enough Pym Particles for one round trip each,” Bruce stated. “And these Stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

“Our history,” Tony corrected. “So, not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in.”

“Which means we have to pick our targets,” Clint said.

“Correct.”

“Let’s start with the Aether,” Steve suggested. “Thor, what do you know?”

Everyone turned to look back at Thor. He was sitting on a chair, beer in hand and sunglasses on. Unmoving.

“Is he asleep?” Natasha questioned.

“No,” Rhodey responded. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

Tony gently woke up Thor and helped him stand in front of the group.

“Where to start?” Thor asked himself, clearly still out of it. “Umm... The Aether, first, is not a stone, someone called it a stone before. It's more of a... an angry sludge thing, so... someones gonna need to amend that. Here's an interesting story though, many years ago... My grandfather had to hide the stones from the Dark Elves…” He wiggled his fingers. “Woooooh, scary beings. So Jane,” an image of Jane Foster popped up on the screen. “Oh, there she is. That’s Jane… She’s… an old flame of mine… she… she stuck her hand inside a rock this one time… and then the Aether stuck itself inside her... And, she became very, very sick.”

“So I had to take her to Asgard, which is where I'm from,” Thor continued. “And we had to try and fix her. We were dating at the time, you see. I got to introduce her to my Mother... who's dead,” everyone was trying to give their full attention to Thor as he began to look broken and rambled on, “and oh you know, Jane and I aren't even dating anymore, these things happen though you know, nothing last forever,” Tony went up to him, guiding him back to his chair. “I'm not done yet, the only thing permanent in life is impermanence.”

“Awesome,” Tony responded, keeping a hold of him. “Eggs? Breakfast?”

“I’d like a Bloody Mary, thank you.”

“Alright, maybe we stop for breakfast,” Steve cut in. “We’ll reconvene later.”

Y/N was the first person out of the room, with Natasha hot on her tail.

“Y/N! Y/N, stop!” Y/N ignored her friends call. “Y/N.” Natasha grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a side room, locking the door. “Talk.” She stood in front of the door, blocking Y/N’s only way out.

“I screwed up my marriage,” Y/N whispered, unable to meet Nat’s gaze.

“What? How?”

Y/N gasped for air, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Because I’m still in love with Bucky… and Tony asked, and I couldn’t lie. Not to him, not anymore.”

“But you love Tony too.”

“I do. It’s just not the same… And no matter the outcome of this plan, I’ve now ruined my child’s family.” Y/N’s arm trembled as it went up to cover her mouth. “I did that… I will be the one to cause my own child pain. How—how could I do that to her? How could I fail another one of my children?” “You didn’t fail—“

“But I did! I failed AJ and now I have failed Morgan. If… If this works, and we all make it, I wouldn’t blame Tony for wanting to take her away from me. And I think I’d let him.”

“I would never do that to Morgan,” Tony’s voice cut in, making Y/N jump in surprise.

He had been listening through the door and decided he couldn’t standby and listen anymore. Tony slipped into the room and Natasha quickly took her leave, shutting the door behind her.

“I would never do that to you either,” Tony continued. “Because, damn-it Y/N, I love you more than anything. Even after finding out the truth last night. You will always be it for me. No matter what. And because of that, I would never do anything to hurt you, including taking Morgan away from you.” Tony sighed. “I was up all night thinking about how to react to this. And just me, I wanted to freak. But I couldn’t get myself to, because I still love you.”

“What do you want to do?” Y/N meekly asked.

“I want to go through with the plan and then figure it out. Worry about one thing at a time.” Tony carefully walked up and took Y/N’s hands. He looked down at them, running his fingers across hers. “I… If… If this all works out, and we get everyone back, I want you to know that I’ll let you go.”

“Tony��“

“Let me finish. I’m trying to be the good man for once, okay? Just let me have this moment. Though I really want to be selfish with you… cause it’s you.” Y/N nodded, allowing him to continue without interruption. “I… I will let you go, if that’s what you want. If that is what will make you happy. I can live with that… I’ve only ever wanted your happiness. And I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I stepped in the way of that.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony. I need you to know that I really am.”

“I know…” Tony pulled her into his chest, cradling her head close. Y/N latched onto him. “I know…”

“We’re going to make it through this, right?” She whispered after a few minutes of silence, just holding onto each other.

He pressed a kiss to her head. “Always.”

~~~

The rest of the day was focused on making the quantum suits for everyone and gathering more information on the Stones. They gathered together once again for dinner, where Rocket was answering questions about the Power Stone.

“Quill said he stole the Power Stone from Morag,” Rocket told everyone.

“Is that a person?” Scott asked.

“Morag’s a planet. Quill was a person.”

“A planet? Like in outer space?”

“Oh, look. It's like a little puppy, all happy and everything.” Rocket changed his tone to one that he was use when talking to a puppy. “Do you wanna go to space? You wanna go to space, puppy? I'll get you to space.”

“Alright, Rocket,” Steve said, stopping the raccoon from making Scott feel worse. “Explain to us how the Power Stone works.”

“It has the ability to destroy whole planets.”

“It is the most destructive of all the Stones,” Y/N spoke up quietly, causing everyone to look at her. “The power is… tremendous, in the most terrifying of ways. I’ve felt it.”

“Right. You’re connected to the Stones.”

“I was, until Thanos destroyed them.” Y/N focused on her food, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Tony set a hand on her knee, trying to be supportive.

“How much do you know about the Stones?” Steve asked.

“A lot, yet nothing. They’re so complex and they are each their own being, and each the same being. I know more about their powers and capabilities than anything else.”

She finally looked up to look at Steve. He was clearly unhappy with her. Probably feeling like she purposefully kept everything about the Stones from him, which wouldn’t exactly be a lie. But Y/N felt that she was doing what she had to, to protect the people she cares about.

“How about we wrap it up for the night and talk about this more in the morning?” Tony suggested, trying to help Y/N out of this mess.

That only made Y/N feel more guilty. She knew that she had basically crushed Tony's heart, yet he was still protecting her. She awkwardly looked down at her lap, nervously fiddling with her fingers.

“I think we need answers,” Steve retorted, angry eyes never leaving Y/N.

“And I think we all need to sleep on it for a night,” Tony argued, glaring at Steve. He stood up, pulling Y/N will him. “Come on, honey. We’re going to bed.”

Tony guided Y/N out of the room and to their bedroom. As he shut the door, Y/N struggled to hold back the tears.

“I-I’m so sor-ry,” she stuttered. She was shaking. Tony quickly came over and guided her to set on the edge of the bed, with him kneeling in front of her. “I’m… s-s-o…sorry.”

“Hey, shhh,” he cupped her check, catching the tears. “Stop apologizing.”

“B-but I should h-ha-ve been… more o-open with ev-everyone… I should have told everyone everything about the Stones.”

She hid her head in her hands as she broke down. Tony stayed kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees to comfort her. He knew there was nothing that he could say to make her feel better. Y/N needed to let it all out, feel all the emotions running through her.

next chapter >

I’M SO EXCITED TO SHOW YOU ALL WHAT I HAVE PLANNED! I hope that this chapter didn’t disappoint. I was really nervous to post it.

I appreciate all likes, comments, asks, and reblogs! Thank you for all the positive support!

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

I’M FROM BROOKLYN, TOO TAG LIST:

BOTH:

@23victoria

@azure23x

@booknerd-3000

@thewidowsghost

@tuttifuckinfruttifriday

@i-dumb-bitch

@marinettepotterandplagg

@booksarebae2000

@roxytheimmortal

@love-couldbe-my-weakness

@bellamy-barnes

@loveisallyouneed1125

@paintballkid711

@stuckupstucky

@austynparksandpizza

@sydney-m

@fangirl-swagg

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BUCKY:

@the-hell-is-life

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#bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #tony stark x rogers!reader #marvel x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes imagine #tony stark imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x sister!reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #avengers #avengers endgame #endgame #tony stark #morgan stark #morgan stark x mom!reader

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refriedweeb · 4 years

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TAKE WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT (Katsuki Bakugo + Fem! Reader) 18+!

A/N: @bagel-bee said she wanted a bratty sub!bakugo so they’re gonna get a bratty sub bakugo

Prompt: 18+AU!Bakugo can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but that’s nothing new to you. What the world doesn’t know is that outside of that hard exterior he presents to the world, Bakugo is the definition of power bottom and sub and needs to be put in his place.

Warnings: kinky sex, degradation, after care, edging, oral, and a bunch of other sin to follow

Word Count: 3,881

There were a whole lot of people in the great big world that were terrified of Katsuki Bakugo. You couldn’t say that you blamed any of them for the fear that they felt when the current love of your life spouted off, ever the hothead he’d been since his youth. His quirk was powerful, and dominated his spot in the hero charts. Of course, it’d been no surprise that he’d made his way into the top ten of the hero charts relatively quick, despite his nasty attitude towards others who he viewed were beneath him. He did good work, held himself to a high and impossible standard compared to others, and genuinely just wanted to make a difference despite his arrogant, dominant, asshole nature that put so many people off of him.

But you knew a different side of Bakugo. You knew a great deal more than the public would ever get to know and the truth of the matter was that gave you a feeling of power. The same sort of level you imagined Katsuki felt whenever he used his quirk and asserted dominance. Sure, in the public image and the hero society around him, he might have come off as the sort of guy who would be dominant in all aspects of his life. And this was true, for the most part. Except when it came to acts of intimacy in or out of the bedroom.

In that aspect, Katsuki Bakugo loved begging you to let him do just about anything. He loved giving all the power over to you, was unable to resist the thrill that rose in his chest when you bossed him around.

At the same time, however, Katsuki was a brat.

He’d come home in a mood from patrol, and immediately tracked you down in the apartment you shared. It’d been a shitty day at the hero agency he worked for, nothing but petty crimes one after another and the general public had been so ungrateful that day particularly. No one was ever really happy about being inconvenienced by crime and fear, he understood that. But they’d been exceptionally vocal about it that day for no reason and it’d really gotten to him. He wanted you. Wanted the comfort and love that came with just being in your presence. Yet, most importantly, he wanted to relinquish all aspect of control about the rest of the day. He wanted you in control, as you always were, when the end of the night came around.

Bakugo found you in the bathroom, looking as if you were about to get a shower. A makeup remover sat on the sink and you swept a cotton pad over your eyes, removing whatever makeup you’d worn on your face that day. He Let out an exhale that sounded like it had some smoke to it, and you opened your eyes, the two of you looking at one another through the reflection of the mirror while you set the pad down. “Hey hon, you’re home.” You could tell by the look on his face that he’d been through the wringer that day, and your heart tugged seeing him look so tired. As someone with a quirk who had opted out of the route of pro hero, you couldn’t imagine the pressure he dealt with each day.

Katsuki didn’t say anything, simply shrugged off the sweatshirt he’d been wearing and letting it hit the tiled floor unceremoniously. He drifted over to you, hands needy as they pawed and pulled at the cloth robe you were wearing. “H-Hey!” you said, brows furrowed in momentary confusion as he laid an assault of kisses and nips at your neck, your jaw, you're collarbone. “Katsuki, I’m about to shower can’t this wait-” a hand slipped under the front of the robe, Bakugo messily groping at your breast. Your cheeks were flushed, and you suddenly understood what he was out for. He wanted to egg you on. Wanted to press boundaries. There was neediness in the way he suckled and pulled at your skin, little flowers of pinks and reds blossoming where his mouth attacked. His head was dipped against your collarbone, pulling at the skin there with hungry teeth, but you didn't need to see his expression to know you were right. “Bakugo, stop.”

He didn’t, his thumb rolling over your hardened nipple. You bit back on the sigh of pleasure, knowing this wasn’t something meant to be about you despite how greedy his hands were. “Katsuki,” you sighed, head propped against his as you leaned back. “Katsuki, stop.”

Not even a full breath had passed between your words before he replied with the infamous and tantalizing “Make me.”

It’d been the bratty statement that told you everything you needed to know. You opened your eyes and tipped your head to the side, meeting his. Make me. Such an overrated statement dealing with a brat, but it didn’t cease to make thrills run up and down your spine all the same. “Make you?” You repeated, Katsuki giving a nod of confirmation, that defiant look still in his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” His voice was gruff, tougher than usual as if he’d done quite a lot of screaming that day.

You sighed, shaking your head from side to side. “Get on your knees.” Bakugo’s pupils widened, the contrast against the bright red of those eyes mesmerizing. He didn’t listen, naturally, continuing to toy with your nipple and the sharp tug he gave to it almost blanked your train of thought. Yet, you held fast. Your hand slapped his away and yanked it from its place in your robe, turning from the sink so that you were face to face. “I said, get on your knees.” Nails latched at his chin, drawing in and pushing him to his knees with minor struggle. Despite the bratty attitude, Bakugo wanted this. He lived for this. Relinquishing control to you set him on a new high he’d never been able to reach before. His knees hit the tiled floor, and he looked up at you with narrowed eyes. Anyone who didn’t know Bakugo might have thought he looked furious, angry. But there was something behind those eyes that told you he wanted this.

And you were going to make him beg for it.

Your hand wrenched through the blond length of his hair, yanking it back so the column of his neck was exposed to you. “You’re such a shit, you know that?” You asked, tugging his head from side to side. “Had such a bad day at work and now you come home and expect everyone to lay themselves out for you whenever however, hm?” Your eyebrow was arched, you leaned in closer to him. “That’s not how it works, Katsuki.” You snapped. You released your hold on his hair and gave him a shove backwards, one he was happy to embrace as he leaned back on long, muscled legs. While he adjusted to the new position, you took the chance to undo the cloth belt that kept your robe tied together. It fell open, exposing the curves of your body and smooth, naked skin. The robe fell unceremoniously around your ankles as you hopped up onto the bathroom sink, legs spreading as you kept your eyes focused on Bakugo’s. “If you want to get what you think you deserve, then work for it.”

His eyes trailed with carnal hunger down the curve of your body. From the fullness of your breasts, nipples piqued where he’d been playing with them moments ago, to the curve of your naval, to your thighs and in towards lips that were spread and sticky already, your cunt looking so fucking delicious. Katsuki licked his lips, not needing to be told what to do as he leaned forward. It almost looked like a home free buffet for him, until the ball of your foot pressed in against his forehead, stopping him from his path to your cunt. He growled, upper lip curled in distaste. There was need in his eyes, to get lost in the distraction and comfort of you from such a shit day, and you saw it so clearly your heart tugged. On the other hand, you simply clicked your tongue. “What are you forgetting to ask, brat?”

Your eyes met and his lips pulled down in a frown. Defiant. This wasn’t news to you, and you moved your foot from his forehead to his chest and pushed harder. “Bad boys don’t get rewarded.”

This was what got Katsuki talking, because he wanted to be rewarded. He needed to be rewarded and he needed to unwind from everything that had happened that day. Letting you take the reins meant that he’d get it, even if he had to swallow some of his bratty tendencies. “Please,” he started, cheeks flushed. “Please, will you let me taste your pussy?”

That was more your speed. A smile on your face, your foot dropped away from his chest and you resumed your former position of spread legs, all for Bakugo to see. He swallowed the thickness in his throat and leaned forward, callused and roughened hands spreading you even further as he drew closer. “Thank you,” he whispered, breath coming hot against your inner thigh. “Itadakimasu,” he purred before pressing in against the heat between your legs.

As he did, your hands settled into the blond of his hair, fingers nestling in as he kissed your inner most thighs, pulling at the supple skin found there. Katsuki was submissive to you, especially when things went awry at work, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like to take his time. Bakugo kissed at the other side of your thighs, pulling the skin between his teeth in a show that was sure to leave a mark. His lips were rough, desperate. And as you leaned your back against the mirror of the bathroom vanity, your mouth dropped into the smallest of o’s as he leaned in to lick a hot strip up the core between your thighs. He wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to be rewarded for doing a good job, and it showed in how he devoured you. Soon enough, the wet sounds of him slurping, nuzzling, lapping up the wetness that he urged on filled the bathroom. Your pants and moans paired nicely with it, he had to say. “Such a good boy,” your breath hitched as he lazily rolled his tongue around your clit. “So hungry for me,” you cooed, hips bucking into his as your own high mounted. Katsuki’s hands pulled your thighs further apart, desperate to get more of a taste of you despite the obvious strain against his pants. He was hard and could feel the slickness of his pre-cum leaking through his boxers. His nose nuzzled in against your flesh, tongue narrowed in on your clit as he slowly pushed two fingers beneath your soaked lips, a thrill racing up his spine at the sound that fell from you lips. He was doing good, you were pleased with him. Katsuki was meticulous as he pumped in and out of you, fingers curled against your walls.

You were barely holding it together, muscles of your legs spamming as he picked up his speed. It was bliss, the sound of him moaning against your sopping cunt enough to send you on a marathon sprint to your orgasm. Any other night you might have done just that, but that desperate look in Katsuki’s eyes when he’d first looked at you told you tonight wasn’t the night to be selfish. Your boyfriend needed you to reassure him in a love language he understood, that you spoke so well. Instead, you threaded your fingers through Katsuki’s hair and gave a hard yank, the void of his mouth and fingers detached from pleasuring you sending a shiver down your spine.

“Such a good little brat,” you cooed, knees shaking as you stood. “Time for your reward.” With gentler hands than before you pushed Katsuki back onto the bathroom floor, kneeling between his legs. Lithe fingers reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it and the buttons of his pants underneath. His cock was swollen already, strained against the deep burgundy of his boxers. “So needy aren’t you? So desperate to get fucked...” came your idle words as you traced a single finger against the thickness of him, feeling a particularly protrusive vein under the pad of your finger. Bakugo moaned, hips instinctively rutting up against your finger. Truthfully you loved seeing the reaction you could get out of him with the smallest of touches, but you gripped his cock hard as he settled back on the floor. “Behave or you’ll get nothing.”

Bakugo’s expression twisted as he worked to restrain himself, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he fought back on a bratty remark. “Yes ma’am.” He groaned just as you pulled the waistband of his underwear down, swollen length slapping against the muscled plains of his stomach. The head of his cock was swollen, leaking pre-fun as it seemed to throb with a rhythm of its own. He watched with baited breath as you leaned over the head of him, letting a long glob of spit fall from your lips and onto his length.

Katsuki swore he almost came right then and there from the image of it alone.

A shuddering moan found itself in the back of his throat once more as your hand spread the spit around, fisting the angry colored cock in your hand as Bakugo braced his hands against the wall of the bath, the door of the cabinets. You twisted your hands up and down the length of him, watching the pained expression as he fought to keep control of his need to spill into your hands. A wicked smirk touched your lips and you leaned down, lips brushed against the protruding vein of his cock as you spoke. “You’re gonna be good and not cum until I say so, right Katsuki?”

You watched the defined muscles of his Adonis belt flex and contort as he fought back the urge to fuck himself into your hand, push into your mouth. “Yes,” he shuddered, gasping at the pain that followed a moment later from a particularly harsh grip from you. “Yes ma’am!”

Bakugo’s reward came when you lowered your mouth over his cock, cheeks sucking inwards as you bobbed your head up and down with a slow, tantalizing rhythm. Your tongue traced over the violent vein that ran on his underside, pushing his control over his hips to the breaking point. He refrained, however, wanting to keep you happy and keep you sucking him off. The moan that escaped his mouth once your nose brushed over the soft tangle of hair at his base sent a thrill through you, quickening your pace as you felt the muscles of Bakugo’s thighs tighten, the pulse of his cock hammering against the back of your throat. He was close to his orgasm, and you both knew it.

And just as Katsuki was about to tumble over the cliff of his high, you released him from your mouth with a silent pop - one that was lost in the sound of his cry of dismay. His thighs spasmed, flexing as he tried to rut up into anything to get that final brush of friction he was desperately after. You sat back on your feet, wiping your wet, drool covered mouth with the back of your mouth. “Such a needy little slut,” you groaned, on a bit of a power trip from how close you’d had him to unraveling with just your mouth alone. For the arrogance that he put on during his professional hours, you were the only one who could get Katsuki so weak. “You want to cum, brat?”

His forehead and body were slick with a thin layer of sweat, and he nodded. “Please, please let me cum, I need it. I need you.” The amount of desperation in his voice sent a thrill through you and you moaned as you started to crawl into his lap, wet lips dragging against his cock as you settled down. White dripped from the tip of his cock and onto the well defined planes of his stomach, and it took an incredible amount of restraint not to just start bouncing on him then and there.

“Do you?” Your voice was bored, languid, as if there were a million better things you could be doing at that moment. Your fingertips trailed over his stomach, causing him to shudder. They raked up and down his chest, moved to trail up your own stomach, to cradle and pinch at your own breasts while Bakugo struggled not to touch you greedily as he had before. He ached for it, could have very well started crying for it.

And when you put out what you wanted into the world...

“Please, baby, please, please, please!”

You took his throbbing length into your hand, lining it up with your entrance. Bakugo watched with hungry eyes as the tip of his cock started to disappear between your folds, the way you sat on him so slow and teasing he could have swore you wanted to kill him. Eventually, you sheathed yourself full of him, your opening settled against the curve of his hips into thighs. Yet, you didn’t move. You clenched around him, relaxed, and reclenched yourself as you sat poised and flushed over his dick. Your hands were braced against his chest, tips of your fingers biting into the hardened skin of his muscles. You felt impossibly full of him, wanting to savor that moment despite the feral whines coming from beneath you. “Beg me,” you breathed, eyes opening as you tilted your head to lock eyes with him. “Beg me to fuck you stupid.”

Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes, and he threw his head back, panting and you hadn’t even done anything. “I need it,” he groaned, fingers twitching to get at your skin. “I need to touch you. I need you to fuck me, I’m fucking losing it, please fuck me. Please, I’m-” His voice cut short as you leaned in, lifting over his cock with your pussy clenched as you moved against him. He wouldn’t last much longer if you teased at him like that, Bakugo knew that for sure. “Ah, rrrnng, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

It was the last little bit of torture you would put him through for that night. You smiled, small and curt and it was the last string of resistance that snapped that would set the game on the ground and running. You adjusted your knees, pulling them inward as you started to ride Bakugo, hips slamming down into his as you bounced up and down. Meanwhile, Katsuki went wild. His hands found purchase in your skin in the most violent way. Grabbing at the plush skin of your hips, your thighs, pulling and clawing like a man desperate to find salvation. He cupped your breasts, the painful pulls of your hardened nipples only egging you on to fuck him harder, to get him to his high faster. The sound that filled the bathroom was wet, the squelches of your pussy as you sank around him over and over mingled with your desperate moans.

A hand slipped up to Bakugo’s neck and squeezed there while you rocked back and forth against him. His mouth was hanging open, his panting feverish, and you swore he could have gone cross-eyed. “You don’t cum until I cum, slut.” your thumb brushed over his swollen lower lip as you leaned forward to pull it in with your teeth. “Make me cum.”

That was all the encouragement that Bakugo needed. His hips snapped against yours with enough feverish need you cried out in pain. He was sloppy, how his thrusts were ill-timed and desperate, pounding into you with reckless abandon. Your nails found themselves back in his chest, dug in as he held you down against his hips. Katsuki drove himself up into you, enough to carve you in half with the power behind them. Your mouth dropped open, unable to do anything but mewl, whine, and cry out. His thumb rubbed circles against your clit, equally as feverish in speed as he rushed to get you to your orgasm because he didn’t think he’d last much longer himself. He tossed his head back, listening to the sounds of you calling out his name, growing more and more desperate as you came closer to your own mounting high.

It was a specifically hard drive that sheathed itself right against the back of your spongy walls that undid you, your glaze tumbling around Bakugo’s length, coming undone once more as he continued to tease your clit and fuck you simultaneously. Always such a good boy, you groaned as you rode out the last of your high. “Cum for me, Katsuki. Fill me with your cum.” Those words, spoken breathlessly and of wrecked tone, sent Bakugo spiraling as he shot his load into you. Your hand slipped behind you to fondle his balls, milking him dry as he emptied himself into you until he was spent and shooting blanks. Even when he was spent, Katsuki remained inside of you, flexing his hips against you. Both of your breathing was labored, spent, unable to form coherent words for a moment of time.

You collapsed against his chest, soothed by the feeling of his chest rising and falling. Your sweet, loving, Katsuki Bakugo. Once you found you could still speak, you tipped your head so you could look up at him. “Are you okay, ‘suki?” A hand moved to push some matted blond hair out of his face.

Bakugo’s hands wrapped around your waist, giving you a squeeze before he answered. “I was frustrated,” he started, voice gravelly and still thick with lust. “Today was one of those days where it seemed no one cared about what we were doing. Ungrateful dumbasses, tch.”

Your expression softened, and you pressed a kiss against his chest. “You know that’s not true. You do important work, my brave hero.” His thumbs ran circles over your lower back as you continued on. “I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under sometimes, doing what you do.” Bakugo turned to look at you, burgundy eyes tired, drained. You kissed the spot on his chest again. “You did so good, such a good job listening today.” You kissed him again, this time closer to his neck. “You’ll always be appreciated and loved with me, Katsuki, you know that, right?”

A blush pulled over his features, and he ducked his head with a roll of his eyes. Despite the reaction that would have had anyone assuming the sentiment wasn’t appreciated, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m not a dumbass, you know.”

You laughed, kissing him gently on the lips for a few moments. The desperation from before no longer present, the only thing left behind the deep rooted love you held for one another. Slowly, you pulled away and smiled down at him. “Come on, lets get cleaned up and order in. Your favorite.”

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arcadialedger · 3 years

Text

How Catra and Zuko have been saving me lately: A (sort of) meta

A very long, personal post under the cut. This is really important to me, and I could really use some support, so if you could take the time to read and reblog that would be greatly appreciated. I just want to reach out.

Once again, please PLEASE read. I really need help.

Recently, I’ve found myself desperately latching onto the characters of Zuko and Catra, as many have in the past. To put it simply, I’m in one of the most difficult times of my life right now.

I’m transferring colleges because I was doxed by an online hate mob (long story) , and in general because I just didn’t belong at my old school. I went to three different high schools, moved around a whole bunch, and I don’t really belong anywhere. All of my friends are far away, my parents are busy working and I’m alone.

I just feel like I’m wandering aimlessly in darkness, unloved and unsure where to go. I’m faced with making a huge decision about my future with this transfer, and I’m terrified. Terrified I won’t make the right choice, and terrified it won’t be the newfound happiness I so desperately need it to be. But most of all, I’m terrified of being unwanted and alone again, wherever I go.

I’m used to not being wanted. I’m 4’10, not thin, and have been tossed aside because of my appearance my entire life. I’m 20 years old and haven’t been kissed (how pathetic is that). I moved schools and stayed in my room depressed because I never got to lay down roots and establish a foundation. Hell, I never even got to live as a teenager. I’m just behind and broken.

I was hoping Tumblr would be my place, where I could write and analyze and showcase my talents. Be wanted for once. For a while, it looked like it might be. Then a friend blocked me and made a callout post, due to me having a different opinion on a sensitive matter, and a domino effect began. I lost more friends and half of the fandom we’re both in blocked me seemingly at their word. I had featured this friend on an episode of my podcast at, had many fond memories chatting with them, and even bought a zine to support them. The loss hurt, and I was cut off from one of the few things I had. It was all taken away from me. My growth halted as I dealt with months of online abuse: including death threats, suicide baiting (these people knowing I’ve struggled with being suicidal), aphobic slurs (knowing I’m ace), mocking and editing images of my face. My Twitter was hacked, I lost podcast deals with creatives who my friends who blocked me and started all of this went on to interview because of said hacking, and I was threatened to be doxed. I suffered blow after blow while the people who hurt me grew and were rewarded, allowed a place here, and this continues to this day. The damage remains. I have to self reblog a whole bunch to get my content remotely seen in the algorithm.

Because my entire life, it feels I’ve never been allowed a win. I’ve never been allowed to have and keep anything good. I’m short and ugly, talentless with nothing to give to the world, my family has no money so I haven’t gotten to travel or experience a lot of things. I’ve spent my entire life envious of the “hot skinny girls” who’ve been wanted and dating since high school, who live in McMansions and get to go on vacations.

When I work to make good content on Tumblr and build a following talking about what I’m passionate about? It’s taken from me. When I work hard to get into my old college’s honors program and earn a trip to Greece which I could otherwise never afford, a global pandemic comes along and makes sure I don’t get that kind of positive experience in life.

I’m used to it all, being worn down and unwanted and losing. I’ve gone my entire life behind, lesser, and not enough.

And that’s why I’m so scared. I have a big decision to make, I’m at my own crossroads, and I desperately need all of this to come together for me this year. I’ve gone so long without happiness and love. I need this to be the light at the end of the tunnel, newfound happiness. I need to find newfound happiness. All I want is to escape the darkness, find peace of mind and function day to day doing the things I love without being stressed.

So when I see Zuko— so angry at the world for being given the short stick, abused, and never making things easy, and Catra— driven mad by comparison and feeling as though the world takes away everything from her? Gosh, I feel it so hard.

Because that’s just what I do. I get angry at the world for making things so hard for me. I compare. I feel like the world just takes and takes and never gives me a win. And so I’m never happy. I feel their pain and loneliness so deeply, and I’m terrified that I’m the villain because of it. I cry at the anguish and self loathing in their eyes because I have been there. I AM there.

Like Zuko comparing to Azula, I feel lesser because the world has constantly told me I am so. I feel cheated and given the short end of the stick, as though life has it out for me. I get angry and lash out from my pain.I’m desperate for validation from people who can never give it to me. I’m so scarred from my past, I can’t believe I have a future.

Like Catra, I’m always left behind. I’m lonely and driven mad by the unfairness of the world. It takes and takes until I’ve lost it all, but it never gives. I’m so afraid of losing anyone and anything else, I refuse to let anyone in. Because why would I deserve love? There’s nobody who wants me, no purpose for me on this world. I’m nothing, just constantly chasing an impossible goal of perfection to justify my existence.

“You drive them away, wildcat”

Yeah, I know their hurt. I know what it all feels like. To be that broken, that insecure, that left behind and unwanted. The punching bag of fate. These characters suffering is so much of my own.

And that’s why they’re the only thing to give me hope.

Seeing them be where I am now, and where they end up, I allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, that can be my future. That I’ll get a happy ending. It gives me the courage to believe that what I’m so desperately striving for can happen.

Zuko standing up to his father and forging his own path in life, which leads him to a better place as he finds his destiny and happiness after so many years of torment. We both have scars-- if he can overcome his, why can’t I?

Catra, after so many years of struggle, taking agency over her life back from those to abused her, and finally learning to accept the love of those around her. Opening up to pain and rejection and ultimately being forgiven. Catra felt so lonely, unable to see the love around her-- maybe I’ve been doing the same thing. Maybe I’ll find the strength to take my life into my own hands and find my own love.

It’s so empowering, a flicker of light in what feels like eternal darkness. I am so worn out and broken. I’ve never had love, or learned to love myself. In the real world, it is find to find hope.

It is only in these characters, who have felt my pain and found their way to a better place, that I find comfort.

I am one of so many who have been touched by these characters arcs, and they are one of the purest examples of why stories are important. Why the emotions narrative can evoke are important. It is not only escapism, it opens up a door to critical self introspection that can make a real difference in our lives. It holds up a black mirror of our lives, providing an outside view of our deepest, darkest emotions and struggles which can be so hard to understand when they’re inside.

These characters, and their stories: insecurity, abuse, doubt, comparison, chasing validation, just wanting to find your purpose in life and happiness-- they are the stories of life, stripped down to it’s rawest emotions.

There is power in redemption. There is power in rising from the bottom.

As I said in my last post about Catra and Zuko:

“Their stories: being angry at the world, driven mad by comparison and a need for validation, making wrong choices, processing trauma, needing help but being too scared to open up and accept it, feeling as though they don’t deserve love or forgiveness, fighting to restore and maintain valued relationships, convincing themselves they’ve lost it all, feeling conflicted or confused, realizing what they thought they wanted isn’t fulfilling and hasn’t brought happiness, escaping years of mental conditioning which told them they were worthless, not seeing the love they have right before them, constantly fighting uphill for a life which seems to throw everything it can at them… Well, isn’t that just the most human story of all? And so their redemptions give us hope.”

I have been so lost and lonely for so long, and now I’m at a crossroads. I’m so scared to believe that this change, this new path, can lead to a better place, but these characters? They give me strength to. They give me faith.

This has been a rambling post of feelings, and I am thankful to anyone who has read this far. I’m just so tired of feeling this way, and needed to reach out and share this. If you are also feeling this way, know you are not alone. You are so very far from alone.

I just really don’t want to feel unwanted and unloved, like I don’t belong, anymore. I want to have a place here. I probably sound desperate because I feel that way. I don’t know how else to cry out for help other than sharing this.

If anyone wants to message or send asks about this, please feel free to do so. I want, and very much need, to talk.

#personal #personal post #zuko #long post #catra #meta #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #she ra and the princesses of power #she ra #a:tla #atla #spop #mental health

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capri-ramblings · 4 years

Note

I don’t know if you’re still doing requests but if so, I reallly liked the not wanting a child one with Vil Leona and Malleus. Could you do it with Lilia, Rook, Azul, Floyd, and riddle? If you have time? If that’s too many people than just Azul, Rook and lilia. Only if you’re able to. Thank you. Have a nice day. 💖💖💖

Oh boi this was challenge but I love how it turned out! Sometimes when writing dialogues for the boys,I hear their Japanese voices and the struggle of needing to find the English equivalent to that hurts my braincells 😂😂 I'm looking at you, Floyd (눈‸눈) Lmao but really,I enjoyed writing this, so thank you for requesting this! Hope you all like it as much as I do ♥️ imsorryriddlegotangstyandimblackbutlertrash

Warning; Toxic relationships and mentions of physical abuse

Lilia Vanrouge

- He's planned this the moment he realized he wanted to be with you! Children are a hassle, true, but the thought of being the father to your child made Lilia want to run in circles.

- He was aware of how you often avoided the question though,and unlike Malleus, he was more patient as he slipped in small hints and tested the waters. Seeing which part of the topic took you off.

- Lilia, ancient and wise, believed that if he pushed you the wrong way, nothing good would come out of it. You'd be unhappy and an unhappy mother would lead to an unhappy child, and that's the last thing he'd want.

- Lilia sees the image of him standing beside you with your three children almost every single time he looks at you, and he knows happiness is key!

- So,he pampers you and he studies you. Every single reaction you give him, he digests it then analyses it and finally forms an approach.

- The two of you were in his manor's library when he went into the conversation, and as he expected you were trying to divert the whole topic.

- "I'm practically a child myself, I don't think I can handle such a responsibility...I'm sorry,Lilia" You hung your head low,averting his gaze when he came up beside you.

- Lilia was always hard to read. He wore the exact same expression most of the time and even when he's in a whole other mood, it doesn't show.

- When he intertwined your fingers with his though, a slight sense of relief washed over you and a small smile curved on your lips when Lilia pecked your cheek.

- "But little lantern, having small candles beaming through the manor would be pleasant in a way wouldn't it? I'd especially spend more time here with them" His voice was so soothing then, you could never have sensed the sourness in it at all. The way he simply and casually carried his aloof air around you, and had you feeling a sensational warmth from the way his hand held yours.

- You were clueless to the fact he was spinning you into a web. One you'd never be able to escape from.

- "And think of the things you could teach them about your world! Or how anyone can do anything despite having no magic"

- "Doesn't that bother you though? Our children not having magic?"

- The word 'Our' perked his ears. Lilia smiled, feigning an innocence you were too naive to see was rehearsed.

- "It doesn't. Any child from you is magic already."

- "You say that, but you could have children as strong as Malleus if I wasn't a simple human"

- Ah, that's when Lilia's plans ticked perfectly.

- "It's because you're human I want to have children with you,little lantern"

- "I'm here with you now because despite being considered someone defenceless against mages, you've proved yourself to be just as capable as the next student, even more so actually! You're a mystery,my love bird. Don't you see that?"

- You didn't. Of course not. You came from a place where magic was a fairytale, nothing but fiction. Twisted Wonderland was a place you had to struggle even more to be able to have your own footing and none of your trials were easy.

- He saw you as someone so special despite that? Your heart clenched at his words.

- And that's how he gets to you. He doesn't try it once and forces you into it when you refuse. No, Lilia simply keeps pushing.

- He'll make you feel as if you were no different to him or the other Twisted Wonderland residents who wielded powers you can't.

- His words would coo in your head whenever you doubted that a child of yours would do well in this version of the world.

- "They'll have you as a mother after all. Strong and reliable,they won't have any problems you couldn't fix!"

- "Bullied? You wouldn't allow such a thing in the first place"

- "Imagine them having eyes just like yours. Maybe then you'd be able to see how fiery your spirit is!"

- Lilia knows you all too well. Your lack of joy when talking about children came from the fact you were afraid you couldn't be good at it. Poor thing, being constantly dogged at by Crowley to run errands that drained you with exhaustion and confronting people who thought magic made them powerful. It's no wonder you feel numb from it.

- Oh,but no worries. His plan is perfect, and plays well for both of you.

- You don't want a child because you feared it being neglected? He'll just change that image of yours.

- On the day, you wake up to the sound of a baby crying and realized it was simply from a dream, you swear you've never felt so empty before. So, incomplete.

- Lilia doesn't bring up the subject of children for a while and it makes you anxious. Did he not want them anymore? Did your constant refusal made him give up on that? Give up on you?

- Your thoughts would run wild until you find yourself wrapping your arms around Lilia, teary eyed and apologizing as if the words had been burned into your throat and you desperately wanted it out before you lost your voice.

- And Lilia being the ever so gentle,ever so understanding lover, would hold you. Cooing to you as he plays with your hair softly.

- He'll ask you what was wrong, the hue in his gaze shifting when you stare deeply into them and you'll shed tears.

- "It's okay,my sweet" He coos, smiling, despite your sorrow weighing down the room. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

- Lilia takes the long route to having children but it's all worth the wait when he sees you smiling lovingly at the newborn child in your arms as you gesture to the five year old next to you to come see their younger sibling.

- "Mommy,look, same eyes as you!" Cheered the child, and you perk up at the sight. Lilia was right, children were perfect remedies to a tired soul.

Azul Ashengrotto

- The thought of children,at first, terrified him. It'd be like trying to leash two more Floyds, wouldn't it? But then Jade mentioned that having children was similar to having a contract and something just clicked in his head.

- If he impregnated you, it'd be harder to run from him, right? And when he was truly a father then you'd have to look up to him to care for both you and the child, right?

- Of course! How didn't he see this sooner? What a fool.

- Azul would be hellbent on wanting a child and he'd try his hands at it multiple times, and was equally disappointed each time since all you ever did was refuse.

- "Kids are too hard to handle. We'd both be busy, and I don't think even Jade would have time to juggle them around when we can't." You sounded so bitter, so disapproving. It made Azul feel all dejected, as if you were just disgusted at the thought of having his seed inside of you.

- From then on,Azul starts to mope. His cool composure slips from time to time and it gets too often that Jade has to handle most of the clients. He'll pull a face when you ask him what's wrong and harshly tells you to leave him alone

- He's hurt,but he doesn't want to say it and he frustratingly tries to wrap his head around a plan to make his desire come true, playing out multiple routes in his mind to find a weak spot he could probe you with.

- "Why don't you want a child?" Azul asked you this right after closing Mostro Lounge. There's a hint of sorrow in his blue gaze when you come to meet it, and you wonder if you were too blunt with your answer.

- You shifted on your feet, something you did out of habit, and Azul took note of how out of place you seemed.

- "Cause I don't think either of us are ready?" You answer and in a split second, Azul's sorrow sharpened into irritation and you could just feel how badly that answer set him off.

- "Was that supposed to be an answer or a question?"

- "Azul, I don't want to fight over this." You reach out a hand to place on his shoulder, but he slapped it away with surprising speed and the hit leaves you slightly stunned. He'd never hit you before.

- "It's someone else isn't it?" He asked, almost a murmur. The way his gaze seemed to latch onto you then gave off an unsettling feeling.

- "You're seeing someone else,aren't you? That's why you don't want to have kids with me."

- "Azul,what are you—"

- He moved swiftly, but when his hands came to grip you by your shoulders, his nails sunk into your skin and his lips snarled at you.

- "Who is it? Tell me or I can't promise I won't hurt you right now." His rage practically frothed and you found no words to compensate for your lack of comprehension of the situation.

- "I don't care if it's Jade or Floyd. I'll take out anyone who wants to take you away from me!"

- Your lips parted,to speak perhaps, but Azul silenced you with his spiteful stare.

- "You're mine, aren't you? Why won't you just admit it? Why won't you just accept me already?"

- You thought the pain was from the words he threw at you; Sharp it resembled a hit from a whip,but then your vision had blurred and you were coughing up dry air it made your lungs hurt to take in anymore. Then you felt something run down the side of your lips, and only then did you realized Azul had thrown you right across the room and the wall collided against your body.

- There was a scream, so filled with frustration it wrecked your entire being you had to curl up in a ball before a strangled whimper came from your lips.

- "You're taking everything from me" Azul said, his still gaze watching your crumpled form. He sounded distant as if he wasn't really there, yet when he came over to cup your face with his hands, he had felt so real it hurt to look.

- You were so broken in his grasp then, he was sure you didn't even know where such anger came from, then again Azul was always aware of how reluctant you were in your relationship. You were with him only because he stirred you up in a contract. You never really did loved him as much as he loves you.

- The rising pleasure of being able to make you go through at least a portion of the pain he had to go through was surprisingly pleasant to have.

- He laughed before pulling your face close to his,nose almost touching. "Look how beautiful you are when you don't run your mouth or fight back", the words came in a coo yet you shivered from it.

- "I could make us the happiest couple in the world,you know. Our children would be the best among the best." Azul placed a lingering kiss on your lips, the scent of your blood edging him on. When you weakly tried to pull away, he gripped harder and bit your cheek until it bled and you were letting out small whimpers.

- "Don't cry,my sweet small seashell. If it hurts, I'm here for you. I'll make everything okay again. So, stop crying,I don't want our night of conceiving to be filled with tears."

Rook Hunt

- "Little Lamb, aren't you well enough to give me children?"

- You were merrily drinking tea when this question came out of the blue.

- Rook stood behind the chaise you were sitting on, his arms gracefully enveloping you in an embrace as his breath grazed your skin. He smelled of the forest right after rain, and his words left you rather stunned.

- "In the letter I received from Vil, he and his small hare were planning on having children of their own", he bent down slightly, enough to place a kiss on your cheek before he went around the chaise and faced you. The smile he wore rivalled the morning sun itself.

- You tried to collect your thoughts, tried to piece up the right words to tell him that you simply did not want children. In the end though,you decided it was better to just come out and say it.

- "Rook—"

- "Yes,my love?" His eyes seemed to beam, and Rook's eyes always beamed but this time, it was as if he had been playing the scene of your children running around the halls of his manor the entire day. Mesmerized was the word you'd use to describe it. Your chest tightened at the thought of breaking that dream of his. But you had to tell him...This was something you truly didn't want.

- "I don't want children,Rook." Blunt and precise, the words came from you without hesitation, and in that piercing second that held the room in silence, Rook felt his heart sank into the metallic jaws of disappointment. A mighty bear caught in the savage claws of man's horrid trap.

- He blinked. Once, then twice. By the third blink, you were already regretting your refusal and desperately searched for a way to amend for it.

- Unfortunately for you,Rook had already taken great damage, and as a result, he completely shrugged off your comment.

- "It would be splendid, wouldn't it? I would teach our sons to hunt and our little princess would have an entire garden built for her!"

- "Rook, didn't you hear—"

- "Yes! I can see it already! Our family would be such a joy to have!"

- You stood up then, exasperated by how delusional he sounded. You knew he didn't like the answer you gave him but to just pretend as if he hadn't listen! Just when you were about to turn on your heels to speak your mind,Rook stood as well, swiftly without a sound, and with the strength of a seasoned hunter he gripped you firmly by the waist and hoisted you up into the air.

- Your scream lodged in your throat and blood rushed to your head. Instinctively you held onto his hands, but when your eyes finally locked onto his, the deep-set emerald of his gaze turned luscious and vicious all at the same time and your words lost their volume.

- His lips curled, deliberately coy. When he lowered you and pressed your lips against his, your body flinched.

- "You'll give me good children,won't you?", he murmured before another kiss stole your breath again.

- "My precious dove, you'll make a fine mother."

Floyd Leech

- "Nee,nee, little shrimp,let's have kids,okay?" Floyd threw his arms around you as casually as always but the words he had said with the same amount of casualness was what staggered you on your feet.

- His sharp teeth bared,lips pulled into a grin, Floyd eyed you with great interest.

- You returned it with a terrified look.

- "No." You blurted out before even thinking, and Floyd frowned faster than he had grinned.

- "Why?" Flat and practically monotonous, his question sent a chill down your spine and you bit your lip out of habit.

- Floyd had always been unpredictable, mostly because he acted on how he felt rather than thinking it through first, and that's how you saw this whole situation. Maybe someone had said something, or maybe he met up with Cheka and somehow thought it would be nice to have kids, but he didn't really meant it. Right?

- "Nee,why don't you want kids?" He repeated his question, inching closer to you as you tried to avoid any physical trigger that would set him off. The mer-male had a tendency to bully you whenever you showed him any hint of feeling inferior to him, and that often ended with Jade having to tend to the 'love marks' he left behind on your body.

- "Why do you want kids anyway?" You shot back, minding how your tone sounded while still seeming firm. "They take up a lot of time you know? I'd have to pay more attention to them than to you"

- At the statement, Floyd arched his brows. The distant look in his eyes told you he was having a thought before his expression turned lax.

- "That's okay, I'll be there anyways so it's no big deal"

- "What?"

- "Hm? I'm telling you it's okay,little shrimp. Even Jade said he'd help around if it gets too much"

- He snaked his arms around your waist,pulling you real close to his chest until he could squeeze you tight.

- "It'll be fun,won't it?"

- Your body reacted before you could even comprehend anything, and it was only after you heard the dull thud of Floyd's back hitting the wall did you realized you had pushed him away.

- "You pushed me" He said this so softly, you thought you only heard it in your head but then he lifted his gaze and the mismatched orbs held such malice, your stomach lurched.

- "Floyd,I'm sorry...I didn't mean it, I just—"

- "Shut up. You're really pissing me off. " He elicited the words,each enunciation cut into sharp edges of glass scraping against your skin you wanted to close your eyes and run away from the whole thing.

- But with Floyd,if you ran, it meant you'd already lost.

- "What's with you? I ask all nicely and hug you and stuff, and you're pushing me? Jade said you didn't like kids but I told him that if it was with me you'd definitely say yes, cause after all, you're my little shrimp right?"

- You opened your mouth to speak, to say anything to avoid him having a tantrum, but Floyd let out a low growl and cut you off before you could.

- "Ah,I'm annoyed now. You should've just said yes but now...Now,I want you to come here"

- He opened his arms, the look in his eyes a spiral of aggression that shredded through your nerves.

- "I said come here,___, or you're gonna make me even more angry"

- You hated the way your body reacted to him. How it felt like you were a ghost in your own body as you watched yourself obey him.

- The coldness of his embrace had tears brimming your eyes and you pressed your face into his chest as if it was an instinct. An instinct to protect yourself.

- Floyd eased into your desperation, arms closing around you as he held you in his grasp. He was smiling but it was bland and it was meant to scare you.

- "Aha, you're crying! Aw,did you think I was gonna hurt you,little shrimp?"

- You shook your head,hands gripping onto his shirt as Floyd patted your head playfully.

- "Ah,it's cause you went and made me mad, right? Hahaha! You're a funny one,little shrimp. Always getting yourself into things you can't handle"

- Floyd then cupped your face with both hands, a feverishly possessive look in his eyes.

- "But,If you're really sorry you'll have to show me,okay?"

Riddle Roseheart

- Funnily enough,the suggestion of having children was brought up by Cater, and it had taken both you and Riddle off guard.

- Though, unlike you, Riddle saw it as an enlightenment. He adores you and acknowledges you to a great degree and so when the thought of being a father to your child crossed his mind, everything changed for him.

- "Children would be nice" He said,voice a soft lull as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. The two of you had been laying on his bed all day, Riddle claiming his fellow dormmates had made his day stressful as always.

- You were running your fingers through his hair when his question struck a cord in you,yet you opted to keep your thoughts to yourself.

- Riddle was a rather conflicting partner to have. Unlike the other yanderes, he wasn't at all aggressive or wholly dominant when he began his recession of obsessive love for you, at least not all the time. When Riddle admitted his feelings for you, he had laid himself bare.

- Gentle but clingy, he latched himself onto you as if you were stitched together, and due to the lack of childhood his mother deprived him of, Riddle found great comfort in the way you handled him with such an understanding and loving attitude. Sure,you had your days when you let loose your tongue of sarcasm but that was also an aspect about you he adored.

- "Don't you think so,____?"

- Riddle called you by your first name now rather than your title as supervisor, he didn't have a nickname, said it was all just too stuffy for him. Plus, the way your name rolled so lusciously on his tongue, satisfied him.

- "I guess" was your answer, and somehow despite how casual you sounded Riddle couldn't help but to hear a slight hint of disapproval in it.

- Still, he smiled when he looked up to you and let out a gentle laugh.

- "Our children would surely be an outstanding batch, won't they? I'd teach them how to use their magic and if one of them can't, they'll have you" He sounded so genuine, so soft. It hurt you to inwardly disagree with him.

- You weren't really fond of kids but you were also not the type to admit it out loud, afraid that people would look at you badly if you did.

- "Hmm, you don't seem like you're excited..." ,His voice a gentle coo,Riddle pressed his body against yours,his lips lightly caressing your skin. You arched your back and a small laugh escaped him.

- "Doesn't the thought of having children makes you want to try it?"

- If your silence didn't set him off, the way fear swirled in the hues of your eyes did, and like a switch, Riddle clasped your throat with his hand, a snarl scrunching up his expression.

- "Answer me when I talk to you,____."

- You let out a strangled gasp,your hand coming up to grip his wrist only to feel it burn instead

- Riddle's gaze shifted,clear blue eyes resembling a flickering flame.

- "Don't touch me. If you even move from this position, I'll rip that head off of you faster than the March Hare himself."

- You flinched at his words,eyes shutting close as your chest throbbed in panic. This was what you were avoiding, yet ultimately failed to notice. His moods shifted so profoundly after all, it was like treading on Alice Liddle's stubbornness.

- "I... I'm sorry!" You managed,half a sob and half a plea. Despite his hands looking so fragile, Riddle's grip was like an iron clamp, and somehow his skin seemed to burn into yours.

- "If you're sorry, then why am I still angry,___?" Riddle laughed, "Why do I still want to punish you?"

- You broke into tears easily after that, hopelessness coursing through your veins and warping your features.

- This broke his heart as well, Riddle now knew the answer he was waiting for. You didn't want children with him.

- Near tears himself,Riddle released his grip on you, letting you fall onto his mattress and curl into a ball as he sat there, kneeling before you. He watched as you let out an agonizing sob and called his name,for what reason he wasn't sure. He didn't know if you really loved him or not. You probably stayed because you feared him as well like most people did. But he loved you,he really did. If the world he lived in was a twisted Wonderland, you were his salvation, his home.

- "I'm sorry,___",he said after tears had stained his own cheeks and his heart weighed him down and his chest felt like exploding. He inched closer to you before gathering your trembling form into his arms and burying your face into his chest.

- "I'm sorry I hurt you. I won't do it again,I promise" He held you so tight, you couldn't even grasp enough air into your lungs,but you held onto him nonetheless.

- "I don't like hearing you cry" Riddle murmured in-between sobs, "I love you,___. I just wanted to show you that I do"

- He repeated those words like a mantra, and you fell deeper into your sorrows, as if you shared a single heart with him and the pain the two of you felt somehow had mixed together until you were unable to tell them apart.

- Love with Riddle was maddening,it really was. It was like diving into a rabbit hole. Endless.

- "I love you too, Riddle. I'm sorry for making you mad"

- "I don't care about that anymore" Riddle held your face in his hands,cheeks flushed when you leaned close to kiss his lips first. "I don't care about children or anything. I just want to be with you"

- You smiled. "Maybe having a few wouldn't hurt,if it's yours,I'll be okay,won't I?"

- He pressed his forehead against yours, chuckling, "Yes,my Lady"

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callmemythicalminx · 4 years

Text

Of Rain and Warm Embraces- Tommy Angelo x Reader

Fandom: Mafia Definitve Edition

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, slight gore, small reference to sexual assault, language.

Summary: You’re in desperate need of help protecting your neighbourhood from a gang of punks. In a last resort, you ask Don Salieri for his services. Tommy is picked for the job, setting into motion a night of laughter, pain and confessions.

A/N: Okie, so... this is kinda long, which is why it’s taken so long. I started writing with this one and didn’t really stop, so grab a blankie, some snacks, put on some nice mood lighting, maybe even treat yo self to a special drink and enjoy the ride...

Dedicated to: @kaiiiiiiparkerismyhusband @lolita-wolfson @mayday1284 @xxsamanthaxx @kneelingforvillains @loutino20 @levitate-gengar @dorothynerding @blackbladevika @my-blog-for-me @rammstein-obsession @octorebel @demonsouthere

---

The rain pours hard as you walk across the road. You’d hoped the weather would be clear this evening, but the world seems to be against you. Usually, you take the train home as it drops off right near your street. But on this occasion, you were taking a completely different route, one that had you traversing the streets of Little Italy.

Though there are many people around, you feel on edge as you walk. You have done for the past few weeks since you moved to this city. Every once in a while, you take a quick look over your shoulder, but nothing is amiss. You’re paranoid. They won’t be on this side of town. That’s why you’re here, remember.

You hasten your pace regardless, pulling your coat and umbrella closer to you as the biting wind forces the rain into your face.

By the time you get to Salieri’s, you’re practically drenched through. You dressed up especially nice for work today knowing you’d be coming here after. You wanted to look attractive, make a good impression- but that’s all gone to waste now thanks to the dreadful weather. You must look an image as you quickly rush into the bar, the door slamming behind you as the wind whips against it. Your wet hair flings up into your face from the force and you cringe. Oh yeah, you’re definitely going to make an impression alright.

You’re cheap shoes squelch against the floor as you move towards the older gentleman serving at the bar. It feels like all the eyes in the small space are on you- it’s suffocating. You blush. As you stand there, waiting for the barman to finish with a customer, you cross your fingers and desperately hope you’re not making a puddle on the floor with the water dripping from your coat. You look down. There’s practically a lake on the floor already.

You gawk at it, your eyes practically bulging out of your head. In a feeble attempt to get rid of it slightly, you swipe at it with your foot. You nearly break your neck as your foot slips on it. Thankfully, your hands latch onto the wood bar before you fall.

The sound of a throat clearing with badly hidden amusement brings your head up so fast, you feel like you’ve got whiplash. You open your mouth ready to speak, but you stop short. Instead of the elderly barman who has mysteriously disappeared, a man stands in front of you, a devilishly handsome one at that. Everything you were going to say slips through your mind like a sieve. You just stand there, staring at him with your mouth open. Could your night get any worse?

The handsome man raises his eyebrow at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Can I help ya, darling?” Damn, he even sounds handsome too.

You try to speak. What you end up coming out with is a mix of a breath and a laugh. “I- I uh. I-I um.” His eyebrows raise further.

“Salieri!”

Fuck, did you really just do that? Shout at him?! From the slightly amused look on his face, yes, you definitely did just do that.

“Sorry” you quietly murmur, looking down at the wood just to avoid his eyes. A deep, breathy laugh resounds in your ears, bringing your head straight back up. He’s laughing at you. Usually, you’d be annoyed at someone enjoying your obvious embarrassment, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from smiling back at him.

“It’s alright…,” he gestures for your name “, Y/N.” He pauses, smiling slightly again. “Tommy. I’m guessing you wanna see Don Salieri then?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I’m here for. To see him… Don Salieri.” What the hell is wrong with you right now? You’ve never been this nervous talking to someone before. You forget your embarrassment for the time being though as Tommy smiles, nodding his head and pursing his lips.

“That I can do. May I just ask why you wanna see the boss?” He leans down slightly on crossed arms, bringing his face slightly closer to yours. You swear you can feel his warm, whiskey scented breath on your face but it’s more likely the warm air seeping into your cold flushed cheeks.

“I- I uh, need his help with something. Or his services should I say.” He nods, apparently pleased with your answer, then gestures for you to follow him.

“I’ll show you to his office.”

As you make your way through the bar and into the back rooms, you curl into yourself unconsciously, running your hand through your wet hair in a desperate attempt to control it. You feel out of place here. The men are dressed to the nines, in expensive tailored suits. The women are just the same, smoking high-end cigarettes in dazzling dresses. You look like a drowned rat compared to them.

In a sense, you feel like you’ve walked into the viper’s den. You’ve heard the stories. Seen the newspapers- these men are criminals. The one in front of you who has enraptured your attention is no doubt one too. This isn’t the place for you. Danger and illegal activities aren’t exactly your go-to hobbies. You’re here only because you’re desperate. So why are you suddenly very interested in the gangsta in front of you?

Tommy leads you up a set of stairs and to the right, pausing at a door. He looks back at you and must notice your terrified expression, as he releases a small, wispy laugh.

“Don’t look so petrified, yea? The Don’s only scary if you’ve done something wrong. Have you?” You shake your head hard in response. He nods. “Then you should be fine.”

He knocks and a strong voice from within grants entrance. Tommy opens the door, announcing himself.

“Boss, I’ve got a dame here to see ya. Says she’s in need of your services.” Timidly, you follow behind him, peering slightly from behind his back. You see the Don look up at you, a warm smile appearing on his face. You try to hide behind Tommy’s back again but he moves to close the door, leaving you in direct view.

You don’t move for a beat. It feels like a million alarm bells are ringing off in your head, screaming at you to leave this room and run away. You’ve never been in a room with a man of such power and influence, so your body's fight or flight response is going wild, favouring the latter option to the first. You finally move forward when you feel a hand press against the base of your spine, leading you towards the desk gently. At that moment, you’re very thankful Tommy is here with you even though you’ve only known him for less than five minutes.

“Don Salieri Sir!” You blurt, thrusting your hand up unceremoniously. You expect him to shake your hand but you’re shocked when he instead rises and grabs your hand with both of his own.

“Please dear, just call me Salieri. And don’t look too worried, I’m not as frightening as everyone makes me out to be.”

You hear Tommy let out a small drawn out “Well” behind you, but it goes unnoticed by Salieri as he crosses around his desk to come before you. His hand rubs the top of yours slightly as he does so.

“You’re freezing girl. Tommy, would you get the poor girl a coffee, please?”

“Sure thing, boss.” He leaves the room and you’re quite tempted to follow him, but you feel rooted to the spot under the Don’s intense, but intuitive gaze. He leads you to one of the couches and gestures for you to sit. You take your wet coat off as you do and he takes notice, offering his hand to take it off you.

“That’s not necessary-”

“Please. I insist.” You give it to him, albeit with a little reluctance. You rub your palms against the fabric of your dress, smiling slightly when he turns back towards you. Thankfully Tommy then re-enters the room, easing your nerves slightly. He places a small cup down in front of you, steam rising like a beacon. The aroma is too enticing for you to handle and you immediately reach for the cup, sighing as the warmth begins seeping into your cold skin. The two men laugh slightly at your reaction, making you blush as you blow onto the hot liquid.

Salieri sits opposite you, Tommy standing beside you. The latter must notice you shivering slightly now that your coat has been taken off as a sudden warmth envelops you, smelling like rich cologne and cigarettes. Tommy’s coat covers you like a blanket, incredibly long against your frame. You reach up and pull it around you tighter, looking up at him with a shy smile in thanks. He smiles back, this time with more softness than before.

“Wonderful idea, Tom.” You barely register Saileri’s response as you find yourself enchanted by Tommy’s golden eyes. It’s only as he replies, that you seem to snap out of your trance. “Just tryna help the lady boss.”

“So my dear. How can I help you?” Oh yeah. Right. You actually forgot for a moment why you were here. You look back towards Salieri, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. You can feel it already beginning to warm up your body and sigh before beginning to speak.

“Well, where do I begin?” You let out a gentle, almost soulful laugh then continue. “I moved back into the city about a month ago. I’ve been away for a while because of an old job, but I’ve returned to look after my father. He’s quite ill, you see. I don’t think he has long left and I- I just want him to feel comfortable.” Salieri nods solemnly, eyes adrift. Tommy places his hand against your shoulder, squeezing slightly and you whisper a small thank you to him.

The Don looks at the hand on your shoulder for a second, squints, then returns his gaze back to you. You take a deep breath, sipping more of your coffee before continuing. “My father and I live in an area of mostly elderly folk. They can barely see 10 feet in front of them anymore, nevermind deal with any trouble. Because of that, there’s this little gang of goons terrorising my father and his neighbours. They know they’ll be able to get away with it.”

Salieri nods. “Have they tried anything with you?”

“Um, well. They uh. They cornered me a couple of nights ago and started,” you struggle to get the words out for a second and feel another comforting squeeze on your shoulder “, touching me, but luckily there were some police walking down the street. So they left pretty quickly. They haven’t tried anything since, but to be completely honest with you, I’m more worried about the elderly residents than myself.”

“That’s kind of you dear. Putting them before yourself.” Salieri nods to himself, lighting up a cigar as he does so. “ You’re wanting some protection then?”

“Oh please. I’d be happy to pay.” Salieri looks at Tommy again. You don’t know what passes between them, but the former nods rising from his seat. You follow him after quickly sipping the last of your drink.

“There’s no need. I’d be happy to help get rid of those punks.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bringing your hands to your chest in thanks. It feels like a great weight has been lifted from your body. Your father will finally be safe.

“Oh, thank you, Mr Salieri! I’m truly indebted to you for this!” The man in question shakes his head as he crosses round to you and grabs your hands again.

“Trust me, my dear, there is no price for this. These punks need to know that I run these streets and look after all who live in them,” he turns towards the door “, Tommy will drive you home. I would imagine the goons are usually out around about now?” At your nod, he moves to collect your coat.

“He will deal with them tonight then. As for you my dear, if you ever need anything else at all, whether it’s a job or some money… please don’t hesitate to come back and ask.”

“I will. Thank you, Mr Salieri!” At that, he gives you one last smile, then retreats back to his desk. Tommy ushers you out the office after collecting your coat from his boss, then leads you back down the stairs.

Before you reach the exit, you reach up to take Tommy’s coat off but his hand reaches out and stops you before you can do so. You look up and see him gazing at you with a warmth in his eyes.

“Please. Keep it on. You need it much more than I do right now.” You open your mouth to argue, but from the look on his face, you surrender and instead pull the coat tighter around you.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, looking down, then pushes open the door. He reaches behind you and ducks you slightly, then you’re suddenly out in the rain again, rushing towards a building opposite. You keep your head low, trying to shield your eyes from the bullet-like rain. Tommy ducks you more, moving his other hand over the top of your head to shield you further. You feel your heart skip a beat at the kind gesture. No one’s ever been this kind to you before. Stop it Y/N, he’s part of the goddamn Mafia. You don’t need any more trouble.

You choose to ignore the rational part of your mind as you reach the cover of a garage, a beautiful dark blue Eckhart Elite waiting parked inside. Tommy shakes his shoulders slightly in an attempt to lose some of the rain on his jacket. He reminds you of a dog, making you giggle.

“You laughin’ at me, darling? After I just kept you dry from the rain?” You can’t help but continue giggling at his mock hurt expression. He shakes his head at you while he leads you to the passenger side.

“Maam.” He opens the door for you and actually bows. You try to retain a smile, but it breaks out easily on your face. You mock curtsy in return as you climb into the car. “Why thank you, good sir, you do know how to treat a lady well.”

You see his smirk as he shuts the door and jumps in the driver seat after leaving your wet coat in the back. Once the engine is on and he’s got your address, he drives out into the rain.

As you look out onto the road, reality comes crashing down around you, reminding you that you’re now stuck in a car with a criminal for the next 20 minutes. You take in a deep breath through your nose. Instead of calming your racing mind, it instead focuses your attention more on Tommy as you get a deep whiff of his smokey scent. Why not enjoy your time with him? He has been such a gentleman. For once, you can’t help but want to agree with your inner voice.

“Your boyfriend must be a coward if he’s not dealin’ with these punks for ya.” Your head shoots back to Tommy, confusion on your face. “What? It’s not that hard to send a message-”

“Wait, no. I’m not- I don’t have a boyfriend.” Tommy looks at you with genuine shock.

“You’re kiddin?”

“I’m telling the truth.” You shrug your shoulders as you look back out the window “Ever since I moved back, I haven’t really had time to date, what with my father and working. Well that and the fact I haven’t really found anyone I’m interested in yet.” Tommy doesn’t say anything back. You turn to look at him and find him looking at the road, but you can tell his mind is in a completely different place. He finally seems to come to his senses as he shakes his head, looking towards you. He actually blushes when he realises you were looking at him. To save him from the embarrassment, you start the conversation again.

“Well, what about you? Does any lucky girl have the privilege of calling you there's? Surely a man such as yourself wouldn’t be single.”

Another eyebrow raise. “A man such as myself? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Damn, you really need to think about what you’re saying around this man. “Um, well. Y’know. You’re uh… handsome. And you're very gentlemanly and kind. You’re tall too. And you have… Nice taste in cars.” Your rambling now. It’s only when you hear a deep laugh come from your driver that your embarrassment quickly disappears. Instead, you look at him incredulously, squinting at him in mock anger. He notices and laughs even harder.

“I’m glad you find my unfiltered mouth so funny Tommy.” You say it sarcastically, but you can’t help but smile as you speak. He breathes deep, looking down at the wheel then back up to you.

“I’m sorry. It’s cute seeing you get so flustered darling.” You know you’re blushing again, but thankfully the absence of light on the street hides your rosy cheeks. No one’s ever called you cute before. “As laughable as it sounds, I don’t have a girl right now.” Now you are in disbelief.

“Did you not just hear what I embarrassingly said about you? How could you possibly be single?!”

“Yea, I know, I know.” He shrugs, pursing his lips slightly. “I just… Haven’t found the right girl yet. There’s also not many women who wanna be with a guy like me.”

“Now why would you say that? It’s not your job is it? No wait, I know- you have some kind of weird hobby don’t you?!” You’re really taking the piss out of him now. And he knows it- you can see him silently laughing. He answers anyway. “Apart from being one of Salieri’s soldiers, my ‘nice taste in cars’ and my handsomeness, I haven’t really got much else to offer.”

“Oh please, there has to be more to you than just being a gangsta Tommy.”

“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t- guess you’re just gonna have to find out.”

You don’t get to process his answer fully, as your mind suddenly blanks as he turns onto the main street that leads to your road. You spot the goons out of the corner of your eye immediately.

“Tommy, there! That’s them on the side of the road!” All traces of humour leave his face. He pulls the car in just in front of them and quickly gets out, slamming the door behind him. You follow him, jumping out into the rain. The goons having already noticed the expensive car were making their way over, but now that they’ve seen you, they quicken their steps.

“Hey sugar, haven’t seen you in a while. You been holding out on us?”

“Piss off.” You know it’s ‘unladylike to swear’ but you couldn’t care. You’re sick of these punks and with a gangsta at your back, you also feel fearless. The leader of the gang walks closer to you when you reach the sidewalk, but Tommy steps in front of you before he can get any closer.

“If you saps aren’t careful, you’ll end up in wooden overcoats.” The leader looks taken aback for a second. But then his confidence returns and he slowly walks towards Tommy, puffing his chest out as he does. His friends follow close behind.

“You brought your boyfriend sugar? It’s okay, he can watch. He can even join in at the end if he wants.” That’s apparently hilarious as the rest of the goons start laughing along with their leader. Tommy just gets more rigid. You can feel the waves of anger rolling off him and you know he’s gonna go for them any moment now. His tone is clipped and harsh as he replies “You fucks clearly don’t know how to treat a lady do ya?”

The leader’s laughter immediately stops.“Listen here pal. We know who you are- you’re one of Saleri’s washed up soldiers.” He spits on the ground at Tommy’s feet. “We ain’t afraid of you.”

“I don’t need him for this. Or anyone else.”

“Well then. Let’s see what you can do.” The leader swings for Tommy, but in the blink of an eye, he’s on the ground passed out. The rest of the punks pause for a second, thinking over their options before (stupidly) running towards you both, eager to get revenge for their leader.

Tommy quickly jumps into action, biding his time between them all as he begins taking them out one by one. You stand there shocked for a moment, disbelieving of what you’re seeing. He takes them out easily, his fists landing heavy blows that can be heard even in the roaring rain. As one of the punks tries to grab him from behind, you jump into action yourself. You reach for a brick on the ground and hurl it towards his head.

Somehow, it actually hits him with a large thud. He falls to the ground just behind Tommy, the man in question turning around to see what happened. He smiles at you in both thanks and appreciation, before ducking out of the way of another punch. From your short interaction with him, you fail to see a beefy goon run at you from the side, pushing you back into the car. You slam into the wing mirror with force, the wind rushing out of your stomach. You gasp and sputter into his face as you try to breathe, making him angrier. You attempt to push him, lifting your leg up aiming towards his crotch, but he spins you around quickly forcing you over the bonnet. As thunder belows through the sky, your answering scream can barely be heard.

You panic, flinging your legs out wildly. Somehow, you manage to kick his leg and he curses behind you. He flings you around again. You barely register a sudden sharp pain against your face before you’re falling to the ground. Agony radiates through your head, your ears ringing. Luckily, your arm blocks your head from hitting the ground, but you feel your hands and knees scrape the gravel.

You can’t move. The pain is clouding your thoughts. You can do nothing but lie there, breathing heavily as you wait for your senses to return. You feel hands grasp your shoulders, one of them rising to your face. You shrink back from it at first, but then the hand curls around your cheek, softly rubbing against a forming bruise. You look up into golden eyes and the world freezes around you. You feel safe. Comforted. As those eyes look at you with worry, you no longer feel the water soaking into your dress or the ache from the scratches on your skin. You can’t hear the thundering rain or the whistle of the wind through your ringing ears. You can barely even register your pounding hearbeat. All you can see, hear, feel… is Tommy. Those warm hands pulling you into a strong hug. The frantic beating of his heart from his solid but warm chest. Home. It feels like home.

“Y/N?! Y/N!? You okay, darling?!” You struggle to answer, overwhelmed by the emotions running rampant through your body.

Tommy rises with you pressed against him, pulling you into the open again. As you feel the full force of the rain again, the world centres around you and the chaos of the weather reigns over your senses once more.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit shocked is all.” You can hear how dazed you sound. Tommy looks down at you and curses. He pulls you back from the car, quickly opening your door and ushering you in. He turns around and runs around the car, getting in himself and quickly starting the engine. His hair is soaked and he runs his hand through it, trying to tame it before driving off. You just continue to look at him, unbelieving of the experience you just had. You ignore the bodies of the punks as he goes down the road towards your street. You ignore the body of the beefy goon whose head has practically vanished underneath a bloody brick. You can only focus on him.

“Do you have a first aid kit at your house?” You don’t hear him at first. It’s only when he looks at you again that you snap out of your reverie. He repeats the question.

“Yeah, yeah. I have one, it’s there for my father.”

“Your father ain’t the one I’m worryin’ ‘bout right now. I need to fix you up, your cheeks’ bleeding.”

It is? Your hand reaches up, stroking lightly. You feel a sting. Lo and behold, when you move it back, there’s a smudge of blood on your fingertips.

“That fucker was wearing rings. They cut your fuckin’ face!” Tommy is angry- really angry. Though your cheek is bleeding, you can feel that it’s nothing to worry about. You attempt to calm him down.

“Tommy, it’s fine. It’s just a-”

“That ain’t the point darling!” His fingers grip the steering wheel tighter, his mouth a grimace. You can practically hear his teeth grinding together. “I don’t like seeing women hurt. Especially y-” He suddenly stops talking. You look at him but he refuses to meet your eyes.

“Especially who Tommy?”

“It doesn't matter. We’re here.” He jumps out the car before you can say anything more, quickly running round to your door. You limp slightly as you get out, the grazes making your legs ache with the pain. Before you even know what’s happening, you're suddenly in Tommy’s arms as he runs up the driveway of your home. You open your mouth to protest, but his arms grip you tighter, pulling you just slightly more into his chest. Why not enjoy it?

Once you reach the door, Tommy takes your keys from you and swiftly opens the door, carrying you to the couch in your living room. He goes to retrieve the first aid kit after closing the door, while you struggle out of his now soaked coat. You leave it hanging over the side of the armchair facing you.

Tommy re-enters the room moments later, already routing through the kit. Thankfully, you only have the minor cut on your cheek and some grazes on your hands and knees from where you fell, so they only need to be cleaned and covered.

He falls into a crouch before you, unrolling some cloth as he does so. Neither of you speak as he adds a dab of alcohol to the material, the weight of the conversation in the car still hanging heavily between you. When he reaches up to start dabbing at your cheek, there’s no way of escaping looking at each other.

“Thank you Tommy. Not just for helping me deal with those goons. But for looking after me too.” He breaths deep, looking away from you as he adds more alcohol. He doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “I’ve never really had someone look after me like this before. Apart from my father, my experience with men is little to none.”

Tommy sighs, his hand dropping from your face. “Y/N, I-”

“Please. Let me finish.” You say it softly, almost a whisper. He purses his lips, but nods at you to continue.

“I know you don’t think you have much to offer. I also know that we’ve only known each other for a few hours. But the way you made me feel tonight Tom….” You shrug, looking down at your fidgeting hands. “I haven’t ever felt this way before- like someone cares about me.”

You pull at your fingers in your nervousness, but his hand stops you, gently holding your hands between his. He rubs slightly at your skin with his thumb.

“I’ve never really joked with another girl, like I did with you tonight. Usually, it’s my buddies takin’ the piss outta me. It was… nice.” You let out a scoff before you can stop yourself, swinging your face back up. Tommy looks off to the side with a reminiscent smile.

“Nice? That’s it?” He laughs quietly at your response. He looks into your eyes and you swear you can see the battle taking place in his mind through those pools of burnished gold.

“Fine. It was better than nice.” You nod, pleased and he just sends you one of his smirks, his eyebrow raised.

“You really impressed me when you knocked that guy out. You also scared the shit outta me when I saw you fall to the floor after that punk…” he breathes deep unable to finish his sentence. Unconsciously, your hand reaches out and cups his face. You can feel his day old stubble beneath your fingers as you slightly caress his cheek to comfort him. His own hand reaches up and covers yours.

“I ain’t ever been that worried about a dame before. It… scared me in a way.”

“What are you saying Tommy?” You ask, stroking his cheek gently.

“It ain’t obvious?”

“It is. I just wanna hear you say it.” You practically beam at him. He jokingly sighs, then leans forward tilting his head slightly.

“I’m saying Y/N, I think I wanna make you my girl.” You can’t help the wispy giddy laugh that escapes your chest.

“I think I’d like that Tommy.”

This is really not how you thought this night was gonna go. He finishes cleaning up your wounds, then covers them. You’ll have some explaining to do to your father tomorrow no doubt. Tommy rises to dispose of the stained cloth, walking to the door after helping you up from the couch. As he opens it, you suddenly realise you’ve left his coat on the arm chair. You turn to retrieve it, but his hand quickly grabs your wrist. You look at him in confusion but he just smiles michievlosuly.

“You can bring my coat back to Salieri’s tomorrow. I’ll return yours. Then I’ll take you out. To the pictures maybe. I might even get ya some flowers.”

Oh, he’s smooth. You shake your head and lean up, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. You can’t contain the giddy feeling that spreads through your body when you see the blush painting his cheeks. “It’s a date.”

He grabs your hand, bowing again and kissing it. “Until tomorrow then maam”. You jokingly curtsy back. “Goodnight to you sir.”

He smiles one last time, then turns, hurriedly walking back to the car. You wait under the shelter of your porch until he drives off, giddily spinning when you see him leave the road. If you neighbours can for some reason see you, you don’t have it in you to care. You’re in a bubble of happiness right now and nothing is going to burst it.

After locking your door, you walk to the couch and pick up Tommy’s coat. Even wet, his smell still clings to it and you can’t help pulling it up to your nose and taking a whiff. Just the scent alone makes you feel warm and safe. You bring it up the stairs with you, quickly checking in on your sleeping father, before going to your own room.

You leave Tommy’s coat to dry in the bathroom, touching it every so often as you get ready to go to bed. When you finally crawl between the sheets, you can still smell cigarettes and whisky.

As you fall into slumber, your dreams consist only of golden eyes and a warm embrace.

---

Thank you for reading minxies! If it’s too long or boring, I’m sorry. I really just wrote with this one... (Unedited)

#mafia definitive edition #mafia remake #mafia #mafia 1 #tommy angelo #tommy angelo x reader #TommyHoes #writtenbyme

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the-pallid-king · 2 years

Note

That’s worse somehow. He gestures. “This tongue just came out of nowhere. It wasn’t my fault.” He didn’t ask to be licked. But then, he… just sort of tilts his head. “If I come back smelling like another hollow, you’ll lick me until I don’t?” This sounds like a decent trade off. There are probably a lot of different ways to end up smelling like another hollow that wouldn’t include near death experiences. Or maybe just death-adjacent experiences.

He just kind of throws up his hands. You’re deliberately not seeing his point. If his point were a billboard, you’d be giving yourself neck trauma twisting around to avoid it. “I’ll do the training.”

He winces. It sounds so bad the way you say it. He’s fairly certain the hollow bounced off at the very least. That’s probably a good sign. “I pointed it out, because I think it’s a good quality, and something I like in a mate. I think the real problem is that you don’t like being seen as someone that does that kind of thing. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so sensitive about it.” But you look so kicked the next second, he stops too. “Hey, I didn’t say I think you’re a bad guy. I meant I think you have an imagine to keep up. And that image isn’t someone that feeds small hollows. That’s all I meant.” He waves that off too though. “I was just talking anyway. Giving you a hard time. I’ll do it.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “I always planned to anyway.”

He doesn't know how to tell you that doesn't make it better without embarrassing you worse. "I didn't say it was your fault. I figured if you had a say in the matter, it wouldn't'a happened." He's not surprised when you latch on to him licking you, though it's still amusing. "Well. I was gonna lick you 'cause that's what the other hollow did, but if you want me to lick you more often, all you gotta do is say so. I'm not gonna argue." He likes having his mouth on you and tongue will inevitably lead to teeth and they'll both have a great time.

It's true. He's completely refusing to see any logic in what you're saying because he doesn't want to. He nods. "Ok."

He's not sure you've ever referred to him as your mate before. And he's not surprised at all to hear that you like those qualities. If he were trying to make sense of all this before you just explained it, he wouldn't have hesitated to say you like people who can be generous to others. He's not totally sure what to say. You're not wrong. "It's just weird, I guess. It conflicts with my urge to never share food." Which is entirely instinctive. It's not like resources a slim. "And you're right. I'm used to everyone thinkin' I'm terrifying. Except you, you haven't thought I was scary in a long time." He could make a case that upholding that reputation means he has to enforce it less. He went through more hollows when he first took over than he has recently, because he's challenged outside of the ring less, because everyone already knows he's powerful and ruthless. By being seen that way, he's actually able to be less cruel and more forgiving. It wouldn't be a lie to tell you that. But the deeper truth is that it's just habit, and that sounds a lot more selfish and even less generous.

He huffs a bit when you wave the whole thing off, but it's distracted. He's still thinking about what you said. "I'm really thinkin' about slappin' you with this thing."

#ask #ichxgo

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takadasaiko · 3 years

Text

Learn to be Patient (Superman & Lois one shot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Lois knows she should be patient for news, but the longer Clark takes to respond to the stolen ELT, the more worried she gets. Set directly after 1.09.

---

Learn to be Patient

One of the strangest subconscious reactions to learning that Clark was really Superman had been the worry that crept in. Logically, Lois had known that his powers didn't suddenly appear or disappear with the donning of a red cape, but it had taken a while to truly accept it when he sped off into danger. To get to the place where she could either watch or report on the live news covering whatever villain he was going toe-to-toe with without the knot of fear tightening in her gut. Slowly but surely, and with more than a few missteps in between, she made it to an understanding that she held onto with everything inside of her: No matter who he faced, the man she loved would always come back to her.

Over the years it had become easier. There were moments, but there was also a steadiness, almost a rhythm that they fell into. Once she knew who he was, any explanation as to where he was going or what he was doing had to wait until he returned. He'd always let her know once the danger was dealt with. She had learned to be patient in a way that had felt impossible in the earliest days of their relationship. That patience had become a part of her.

Most days.

Not tonight, though. Tonight she was still reeling from nearly losing one son to Kryptonite poisoning of her father's own making and the other to people they knew that had somehow been brainwashed - possessed? That was still a terrifying question hanging out on the ledge of her mind - by Edge. The same people that had stolen her ELT that had sent Clark barreling up into the sky to tackle the problem head-on. She had been left with the boys to work through everything that had happened, and focusing on that had helped in its own way for a while.

Jonathan and Jordan had gone upstairs and Lois had been left alone in her damaged kitchen with no idea if it had been Kyle or Emily that had pressed that little red button or someone else entirely. The longer Clark was gone, the more she was afraid it was someone else. Someone with a better handle on their powers that might have found a way to get the upper hand with him suffering the lingering effects of the Kryptonite gas. The longer he was gone, the more the fear built and she hated that old knot twisting in her stomach that she thought she'd learned to let go of years before.

She had to be patient. She knew she had to be patient, and part of that came with keeping herself busy. She picked up some of the debris left from the fight and took a shower. She looked in on the boys who appeared to have crashed while talking about the days' events in Jordan's room and then she finally crawled into bed herself. Clark's side of the bed was painfully empty. She curled up on her side and reached out, fingers wrapping around the fabric of his pillow. "Clark," his name escaped her on a breath and she squeezed her eyes shut.

A familiar whoosh startled her and she found him standing just inside their room, fear in his eyes and cape settling behind him from the movement. "Are you alright? The boys okay?" he asked, voice more frantic than usual.

Lois managed a small nod. "Just worried. After everything and you were gone so long…" The words felt absurd and selfish as they tumbled out, but she could see the relief wash over him too.

"I had to update your dad. I should have called."

"It's okay. Do you need to-?"

"Nope. All done. I'm home."

"What happened?"

"Give me just a sec?"

Lois gave another small bob of her head and he was gone as quickly as he'd come. She heard the shower pop on for a few seconds and found herself wondering if, fast as he was, he'd given the water enough time to catch up with him to do any good. He reappeared a handful of seconds after that at the foot of the bed in a pair of pajama bottoms and he was running a towel through his damp hair. She cringed at the bruises that had faded against his chest, but hadn't disappeared. In fact…. She rocked forward to her knees, getting a closer look at the damage that had been left behind. "Are those new?"

Clark glanced down to the marks and frowned. "I think so." He tossed the towel towards the hamper, landing it in one shot, and fell back onto the bed with her. He loosed a long, tired-sounding breath and those otherworldly blue-green eyes fixed on her. "You want to wait until morning?"

He didn't, that much was evident from his tone, but he was giving her an out if she wanted to just curl up and fall asleep knowing they were both home and safe. "I won't be able to sleep until I know," she admitted softly.

"Might not be able to sleep after either," her husband grumbled and pushed himself up so that he was sitting with her. He leaned forward, elbows braced against his bent knees, and she could see more bruising along his bare back. Her fingers ghosted over the temporary damage and she could feel his muscles tense.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little," he admitted and she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. Finally, he seemed to relax just a little with that and he drew in a steadying breath. "Morgan Edge was the one that used your ELT."

"Edge himself? What, he didn't want to hide behind his super-powered army?" Clark turned to face her again and she saw a strange look in his eyes, almost haunted, and she felt the knot start to tense up as she pieced the clues together. "He has powers too, doesn't he?"

"He said he got them the same time I did."

Lois blinked hard at that statement. "What does that mean?"

"That he's Kryptonian. We were…. Evenly matched. I think he was a little stronger."

"Because of the gas?"

"I hope that's all."

"What did he want?"

Clark's shoulders sagged a little more and his gaze turned back to the far wall in front of them. "Me," he managed. "He wanted me to join him."

"I'm guessing the new bruises were his reaction to you telling him where he could shove it?" Lois tried for a tease. A quiet huff of a chuckle escaped him and she inched forward to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. He leaned into her and together they eased back against the mattress, Lois holding onto him as he nestled a little closer. She could feel the intentionally gentle way that his fingers latched onto her t-shirt and her hand moved to stroke his dark hair in a soothing motion.

"That's my people," he breathed without looking up at her. "A megalomaniac that's willing to sacrifice living human beings to be replaced with the consciousness of a race that's been all but extinct for forty years in this universe and the echoes willing to use humans as living hosts. What does that say?"

The knot in Lois' stomach moved to her chest and it felt like it might squeeze her heart until it stuttered to a stop. "They're not all like. You're not like," she managed, voice trembling and she willed her hands steady as they held him. A multitude of possibilities flickered through her mind's eye, the worst including Edge standing over Clark's broken body, unwilling to be denied yet another thing he'd demanded of this world, and their boys would be next if he ever caught wind that there were two half Kryptonians living in Smallville. "He can't have you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I don't care if he's more powerful or if he buys up the whole damn world, this family…. he can't have us."

Clark shifted in her arms to look up at her. "I love you."

His words cut through the horrifying image, but Lois couldn't drag in the breath to answer him. So she did the next best thing as she inched down, pressing her lips against his in a desperate attempt to show him. She could taste her own tears even as he kissed her back, rolling so that he was on his back, Lois leaned over him. She broke the kiss, not able to go without air nearly as long as him, but didn't dare move far away. Instead she rested her forehead against his. "You know you're nothing like him, right?"

"Edge? Hope not. The only person I've seen you hate more is Lex Luthor."

She snorted a laugh. "I mean the other you. The one that destroyed Irons' world. You're nothing like him."

Clark loosed a sigh and Lois finally opened her eyes to find him looking at her. "I've read everything Irons left us on him and I've only found one real difference in all the articles."

"What's that?"

"He didn't have you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Neither am I."

That same steadiness that had helped her learn how to live this life with him filled the words. He would always come home to her. He would always come home to them.

Lois flashed a tired but real smile and pressed a quick kiss to his lips and rolled off of him to her side of the bed. "Glad we have that settled. I'm exhausted."

A soft chuckle echoed behind her and Lois felt her husband scoot closer until he was pressed against her back, one strong arm around her waist and she could feel his breath against the back of her neck. It had been a long, terrible day, but he was with her now, and when the sun rose, they'd face whatever Edge had to throw at them. They wouldn't let him take their family that they'd fought so hard for.

-----

End.

Notes: I stumbled across Superman & Lois after seeing a few very interesting things on social media. I don't think I've actively watched a Superman show since Lois and Clark way back in the day, so I wasn't prepared for the rabbit hole I was going to fall down. I'm absolutely obsessed with this take on a character that has been re-imagined so many times. The lens of family is what did it for me. The solid and healthy relationship Clark and Lois have (not perfect, but healthy), the complications with the twins, and all of the chaos that comes from it. It's beautifully crafted and brilliantly executed in a way I couldn't resist.

The problem is that I haven't watched any of the other DC shows in the Arrowverse very closely in years. I got through maybe 5 seasons of Arrow, a few episodes of Flash and Legends, and nothing of Supergirl or Batwoman when I started Superman & Lois. I did spot watch for episodes that Clark or Lois were in, but I think I only managed to confuse the crap out of myself with the colliding of universes that seemed to have taken place. I'm still unsure if this Clark and Lois even remember going to Argos in the other timeline or if that's faded like a dream at this point. Either way, I imagine that this Clark would feel heartbroken over the fact that the only members of his race left are acting as parasites to the planet that adopted him. The thought spiraled into my first little oneshot for the show. I do have another started to, so we'll see how that goes. Heaven knows I don't have time for fanfiction in a new fandom, but it's just too good to resist XD

#Superman & Lois #Superman & Lois fanfiction #Superman & Lois fic #Clois #Clark Kent #Lois Lane #Superman

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vivithefolle · 4 years

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Ron’s greatest acts of bravery

An itty-bitty butthurty Harmony shipper reported this answer of mine and got it deleted by the Quora moderation. Naturally, I have contested this decision, but my appeal has been unanswered as of now. So here’s what we’re going to do, folks: I’m gonna repost this answer of mine here, where no angwy widdle Hawmony shipper can censor it. And y’all are going to spam the reblog button until people can’t go in the Harry Potter tag without finding this answer reblogged at least five times over. Good? Good.

(this is totally a demarcation line I don’t know what you’re talking about)

What was Ron Weasley's greatest act of bravery in any of the Harry Potter movies or books?

We of course have the mythical “I’ll be a knight” but that’s so easy. Ron would die for his loved ones any day of any week, because that’s how stupidly selfless and self-effacing he is.

There is the equally mythical “If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!” which reeks of badassery and awesomeness, but it has also been quoted before, and to be fair that wasn’t one of Ron’s greatest acts of bravery. Oh, yes, it is incredibly brave, but Ron has plenty more of those to give.

One that is often forgotten is “He beat you!”, spoken to Voldemort in the flesh, which also highlights just how far Ron has come from the beginning of the series - because unlike what the haters want you to believe, Ronald Weasley has an actual character arc. An arc that keeps getting reseted and postponed in-between books because his author is too busy trying to make her Mary Sue look better instead, but he has one, and it’s so perfectly illustrated by this:

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about be ing a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort" Ron gasped. "What?" said Harry. "You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people --" - Philosopher’s Stone

—-

"Malfoy's dad must have told him," said Harry, ignoring Ron. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle --" "Say You-Know-Who, will you?" interjected Ron angrily. - Prisoner of Azkaban

—-

“My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again." "Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth. "And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. - Goblet Of Fire

—-

"You see?" said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!" "He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

From the boy who flinched at Voldemort’s name, to the man who was the first to sass back to Voldemort when the latter dissed his best mate. To say nothing of the fact that this was the first time Ron ever saw Voldemort in the flesh. Ron had never seen Voldemort before, yet the second Voldemort says something about Harry, Ron is up in arms and ready to kill the Dark Lord with his bare hands.

We could go with the tested-and-true “follow the spiders”. Unlike in the movies where Harry immediately sees a trail of spiders and Ron follows moaning and bumbling all the while, in the books Harry and Ron are comfortably in the castle when they decide to follow. Ron has the time to psych himself up, to terrify himself into imagining the spiders, and was given the time to backtrack a million times over. But he didn’t. This one Tumblr post has said it all.

Yes, “Follow the spiders” is probably one of Ron’s bravest moments, but…

But, but, but.

There’s more.

Sure, I absolutely adore Ron and can’t choose between all those awesome moments he has to his name, because they’re all so wonderful. From the ones that highlight just how much he’s grown and developed in spite of his own author treating him like an afterthought; from the ones that showcase just how good a kid he is, how much he loves and fights for his friends; all those moments that show that no, Ron Weasley isn’t a fair-weather friend and anyone who calls him that needs a high-five in the face with a block of concrete…

Out of those moments, out of them all, I have to pick something that is too often forgotten, too often glossed over, even by those of us who love Ron.

I’m talking, naturally, of his return.

Harry had no strength to lift his head and see his savior’s identity. All he could do was raise a shaking hand to his throat and feel the place where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone. Someone had cut him free. Then a panting voice spoke from over his head, “Are—you—mental?”

Whether you think that Ron “abandoned” Harry and Hermione, whether you think that Ron is a traitor or a man with the patience of a saint who put up with Harry and Hermione’s bullshit for too long. Whether you think the three times Harry told him to leave were a factor or whether you place the blame solely on Ron’s shoulders.

Ron comes back to save Harry’s life.

But not only that.

“No!” said Ron. “No, don’t open it! I’m serious!” “Why not?” asked Harry. “Let’s get rid of the damn thing, it’s been months—” “Because that thing’s bad for me!” said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. “I can’t handle it! I’m not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff — stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse. I can’t explain it, and then I’d take it off and I’d get my head on straight again, and then I’d have to put the effing thing back on—I can’t do it, Harry!” He had bakced away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head.

Ron came back, even though he knew it would mean being with the thing that had tortured him all this time.

The thing that latched onto all of Ron’s weak spots, cultivated them, weaponized them, used them to push Ron closer and closer to the edge, until he couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. (Funny how some will act as though Hermione’s birds were her “snapping”, but when Ron is holding Voldemort’s soul in his hands and going insane under their very eyes they just say “hurr durr teh locket didnt do nuthin”…)

And with this thing preying on him, tormenting him, Ron did what any rational, sane human being would have done when their abuser forgets to lock the door.

He opened it and ran.

But, but, but, and that’s where the bravery comes in.

He came back.

He knew there was this thing that preyed upon him relentlessly, a thing that managed to make him believe his best friends didn’t want nor cared about him, that his entire existence amounted to nothing, that he was just a waste of space nobody wanted around.

“Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence... We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption —”

“You mother confessed,” sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, “that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange...” “Who wouldn’t prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him,” crooned Riddle-Hermione

Ron fled from this sort of abuse, from this sort of torture, then he decided to come back for more.

Because even though he believed his friends didn’t need him, even though he thought his friends were better off without him, he still wanted to make himself useful. He still wanted to help.

And once he’d saved Harry, he was back to facing the entity that has been torturing him, and that entity proceeded to show off Ron’s deepest, most shameful secrets… to his best mate.

Ron’s entire self-esteem is tied to the way his loved ones perceive him:

“You did brilliantly, Ron!” This time it really was Hermione running toward them from the stands; Harry saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, a rather grumpy expression on her face. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione.

The image the Mirror of Erised showed Ron was one of glory and fame… or was it?

"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I look older -- and I'm head boy!" "What?" "I am -- I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to -- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too."

Being Head Boy and Quidditch captain. He could have seen himself being crowned World’s Best Emperor if he wanted, with legions of fans throwing himself at him, but that doesn’t happen.

Instead he sees himself being like Bill. Like his cool older brother. And Quidditch captain, like his other cool older brother Charlie.

What Ron wants… is to make his loved ones proud.

Ron defines himself by the way his loved ones look at him.

When Malfoy calls him an idiot he scoffs because it’s Malfoy. When Hermione calls him an idiot, though…? Ouch.

And now all of Ron’s secrets, all his feelings of inadequacy and inferiority that he has tried to keep quiet throughout the series out of respect for Harry, his deepest fears… They’re all there for Harry to see, for Harry to judge, for Harry to feel disgusted by. Because how dare Ron Weasley have problems, how dare Ron Weasley be envious of Harry Potter, whose life is nothing but suffering?

Ron’s greatest act of bravery, to me, was coming back, even though for all he knew Harry and Hermione had hooked up while he was gone (they’d never, of course, but how could he know?), even though he knew it would mean being up for Round #2 of his private torture sessions with Voldemort, even though he believed he wouldn’t be welcome…

He still came back. Because it was the right thing to do.

Anyone who’s gonna tell me that Ronald Weasley isn’t loyal to the core can suck on a cactus.

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cirrius-akiyo · 4 years

Text

KALEIDOSCOPE MIND

-Sequel to "Hold On (Let's Go Home)" & "Unpack the Baggage"-

____

Eddie has been told that the journey of recovery for his husband is a long one. Buck is still at various state of consciousness, drugged up to the point that he is befuddled in his wake or in and out of nightmare fueled doze.

They are still far from passing the crucial point in determining whether Buck will come out of this without deficit or not. Everyday is a waiting game for them.

Everytime Buck is awake, he will just simply look at Eddie as if he is trying to commit Eddie into his memory. Not a single word has come out from his mouth, just small smiles that have carved his lips and occasional hums. Eddie tries to convince himself that Buck needs the rest. That his brain has been injured and it will take some time to heal.

Eddie just want his husband back. They haven't really talk about the cursed night. Maybe it is his selfish desire to avoid anymore guilt and continue living on knowing that he might be the cause of his husband's death, but Eddie really despise the universe as much as himself for putting Buck in this state. He is so terrified to think that there's a possibility that Buck will die with the thought of Eddie's infidelity to be the last thing on his mind.

Their family and friends have come and go, providing neverending support and encouragement to both of them although he can feel like they are directed to him more than Buck. Carla has been bringing Chris from time to time, letting the boy to cuddle up with his Buck. Between the two of them, he feels like Chris is the pillar of strength that's supporting Eddie from crumbling down now that his foundation is currently fighting for his life in hospital bed.

Holding his husband limp hand in his grip, Eddie sometimes think that maybe...just maybe Buck doesn't want to wake up into this reality. That maybe Eddie had hurt him so bad that it pains him to wake up. Maybe Buck is happy to stay in the solace his mind had created.

"Lover of mine

Maybe we'll take some time

Kaleidoscope mind

Gets in the way

Hope and I pray

Darling, that you will stay

Butterfly lies

Chase them away

Hmm"

///

Eddie is at his side, thumbing the beautiful birthmark that he has comes to love while whispering soothing words into Buck's ears. Buck looks peaceful today and he's so beautiful like that despite the garish surrounding.

"I love you, Evan and I've missed you. I've missed you in our bed, in our home sweetheart." Eddie murmurs to the back of Buck's hand. The house seems like it has lose its colour. Chris had since been staying with Abuela or Carla and Eddie had went back only once to pack a bag for them.

The mind is a complicated thing, Eddie tries to ingrain the mantra into his belief. Buck is scheduled to be transferred out from ICU in day five post surgery. Today is day four of his stay.

Suddenly Buck's hand twitch in Eddie's hold, just like he had done sometimes before. Eddie is expecting to see another bout of Buck silently gazing at him while still swimming in the haze of sleep like he always do in his waking. What Eddie doesn't expect is for the hand to continue twitching and Buck's whole body suddenly jerking in an awful uncoordinated movement.

Seizure, his mind supplied. Buck is having a seizure. Eddie screams for help to the doctors outside while pleading for the twitching to stop. All the little progress Buck has made now might as well be useless.

Doctors and nurses come spilling into the room with one of them pushing Eddie out to the corridor. After a while, the heinous jerking stop and his husband is wheeled out of the room.

"Where are you taking him? Is he okay?" Eddie tries to follow through when a nurse stopped him from doing so.

"We'll do everything in our power to help him," the nurse said, not really a promise.

Just like that, Eddie is left alone again to wait. Unable to follow to where his husband is going.

"Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me"

///

Buck had suffered another small ruptured aneurysm and now they are back to square one, maybe even backward. Now he is on ventilator again and just like that the timer restarts.

Eddie feels like they were hurdled back ten yards with every ten steps forward they took.

Their family and friends have come running when he told them the news, preparing for the worst.

Chris is a welcomed weight on his lap that is doing a great job at keeping Eddie grounded. While Eddie's one hand is keeping Chris steady on his thighs, the other is playing around Buck's wedding ring between his nimble fingers.

Both weight assuring his tired mind that Buck will come back from this. He must be...he should be because Eddie doesn't know what will happen to him and Chris if he doesn't. Shannon's death had been devastating but Buck... No, he will not let his mind spiraling down there.

Instead, Eddie let his memory drifts to the moment Buck had said yes. The twinkle of his eyes can easily light up the highest skyscraper there is. Eddie knew then that he had made among the best decision in his life at that exact instant. And the twinkles make their appearance again when Buck walked down the aisle with Bobby giving him away. But the twinkles were even brighter when the judge decreed Chris' adoption paper.

The twinkles never really stop. Buck keeps showing them in different ways. When he calls them for dinner. When Chris hums in delight with every bite. When Chris says his goodnight. When Eddie compliments Buck's new shirt or sweater. When Eddie says the 'I love you's.

What he would give in order to see those bright twinkles again.

"I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made

Already made that mistake"

///

"S'hurt." Buck whines into Eddie's soothing caress. He stubbornly shuts his eyes close with a hand, sluggishly trying to block whatever light flashing at him.

"I know sweetheart, but Dr. Stevenson needs to test your cognitive functions so they will know you're okay." Eddie tries to comfort his distressed husband. Light sensitivity is to be expected but it still hurt Eddie to see Buck constantly flinching in pain.

"Alright Evan, can you tell us your full name again?" Dr. Stevenson then proceed to ask.

Buck huff in annoyance. Why can't they leave him alone to sleep? He already told them his name yesterday. He's so tired, why can't they see that?

"Evan..." Buck tries. Huh. Weird. He should know his name. "Diaz...uh," Buck's face contorted in panic as he tries to jog his memory. "...Buck." He cries in frustration. He should remember his name. Why can't he remember his name?

"Hey, hey Evan. It's okay if you can't remember now. You'll get it right soon." Eddie calms his upset husband while Buck kept whimpering in anguish.

Despite the initial scares, Buck's prognosis has been quite promising. He's off the ventilator and has been moved out from the ICU relatively quick. It took him some time to properly speak and even longer to open his eyes without flinching.

Most of the times he will be asleep, passed out from exhaustion from doing simple cognitive exercises. He is still experiencing memory gap and fogginess but that is all to be expected. His motor function is also improving despite the mild numbness.

"Eddie, m'scared." His voice barely a whisper. Confusion lacing his whole face. His head feels heavy and the fatigue just doesn't seem to go away.

"Come here." Eddie slides into the hospital bed, wary of the wires and IV snaking around Buck. Buck automatically latched himself to Eddie's side while Eddie wipes some stray tears that are staining Buck's cheek away.

"Tired. Hurt." Buck sniffles brokenly, face nuzzling deeper into Eddie's neck.

"I know. I know. But you are doing so much better, sweetheart." Eddie gingerly tracing patters on Buck's back, feeling the warm puff of breath cradling his own neck.

Comfortable silence slowly stretched between them with Buck is finally at the edge of sleep. Eddie pulls Buck tighter into his embrace, anchoring Buck to his chest.

"Don'wanna forget you n'Chris," Buck mumbles, already half asleep.

It never gets easier to see your supposedly strong and healthy husband broke down in tears for not remembering his own name. At how he was defeated by his own mind.

"Lover of mine

I know you're colorblind

I watched the world fall from your eyes

Ooh

All my regrets

And things you can't forget

Light them all up

Kiss them goodbye"

///

After three weeks of camping at the hospital, Buck is finally home. Little by little, the colours are coming back to their little house.

Buck amazingly had come out relatively unscathed after two brain surgeries aside from frequent dizziness, mild exhaustion and occasional numbness.

Abuela has moved in with them temporarily despite Buck's protest, arguing that Carla is still going to be there from time to time and that he'll not be left alone for more than one hour at most. That Chris is also capable to call for help if anything (God forbids) happen.

Meanwhile, Eddie has returned back to work albeit reluctantly. Shifts, long or short are never the same without Buck sitting next to him in the rig or at dinner table. He was mulling over some chores when suddenly his phone pings with new notification. With Buck stuck at home, Eddie never lets his phone out of sight in case if emergency.

The content of the notification put a wide grin on his face. It was a shaky image of Buck sleeping on the couch while holding what seems like Eddie's t-shirt from last night. Which Eddie knows has been put into the laundry basket. Eddie can't really make out the details of Buck's features with the image being so blurry. Not that he'll tell Abuela that if he wants to keep receiving them in the future.

As for now, he has another six hours to go before he can go back to cuddle his awaiting husband.

///

The house is silent when Eddie returns with darkness washing over every corner, save for the night light coming from Chris' room.

Naturally, Eddie skips over to Chris' room first to check on his son and found him safely tucked in bed, deep in sleep. A soft smile cracked on his lips.

He then proceeds to check on Abuela who is residing in the guest room. Abuela is making a habit of leaving the bed room door cracked open a little, in case Buck or Chris need her.

Satisfied, Eddie slowly enters into his and Buck's bedroom, tip toeing on his feet as to avoid disrupting his sleeping husband. Instead, Eddie is met with an empty room. Confused, he checks the bathroom but only to find it unoccupied.

Worry starting to creep into his gut when the couch in the living room is also vacant. He double check to confirm Buck's jeep is still parked beside his truck.

Eddie is ready to tear down the house and even the street to find Buck when from the corner of his eyes, he can see the light in the backyard patio is on.

Lo and behold; there lies Buck, sleeping on the patio swing, snuggled between a thick blanket and fluffy pillow. The book he was reading long forgotten on the wooden deck. Eddie can't help from smiling.

Another side effect that come out from this is Buck's ability to fall asleep almost anywhere at anytime seems to be amplified.

He's lucky the night is not as chilly as usual or he'll get a nasty scolding from Abuela (and Carla, even Athena and Maddie, Hen included, oh and not to forget Bobby's disapproval and Chim's teasing) if he's able to get a cold cause he 'foolishly' slept outside instead in their warm bed.

Eddie steps forward to his husband, expertly avoiding any creaking wooden planks before kneeling in front of the slumbering man. He can't help himself but to stroke the soft curls casing Buck's face. Days without any products bring about the glorious wave of hair. Buck needs a haircut sooner than later, or he'll fuss over his hair being unmanageable.

"Evan." Eddie calls softly, trying to pull Buck out of his sleep.

"Hmm." Buck ends up snuggling even deeper under the cocoon.

"Let's go to bed, darling." Eddie coaxes.

"Don'wanna."

"I promise you, you'll regret it tomorrow." Eddie threatens passively.

"But it's so comf'able, Eddie." Buck whines, all bleary-eyed.

Eddie sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. Buck can be stubborn if he wants to, no matter how adorable he might look doing it.

Gathering all of his might, Eddie scoops up Buck, still swaddled in his blanket. Surprisingly, no protest is coming out from his husband. Rather, Buck nestles his face into Eddie's chest while his hands embracing Eddie's neck like a koala. Eddie can't stop but to notice how much weight has Buck lost. They'll work on that later.

Eddie then cautiously deposit Buck onto their bed, fixing the blanket and fluffing his pillow. Just like that, Buck is off to his dream land again.

Buck is a constant ball of energy. Bright, bold and loud. Seeing him sleeping so much is disheartening even though Eddie knows he needs it.

Encassed in the deafening silence of the night, Eddie chest tightens whenever he thinks about how he almost lost this. Sense of dread envelopes him everytime he remembers how Buck almost slipped from his hold.

Pulling Buck tighter against his embrace, Eddie renews his wedding vows silently under his breath.

"Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me"

///

They are in the kitchen, trying to decide on dinner now that Abuela has returned back to her house. Not before leaving lengthy strict instructions for both of them with quarter of them related to their 'rumpy-pumpy'. "That boy needs his rest, Edmundo." She had quipped before leaving.

Giving his husband a quick glance, Eddie feels like it's the time to address the elephant in the room.

"Evan, we haven't exactly talk about that night." Eddie starts, trying to fish out Buck's attention, whose face currently deep inside the freezer trying to formulate the course of dinner.

Buck closes the fridge and slowly turns to face Eddie, expressionless. Eddie can't help but to reminisce how Buck's face was frozen on that fateful night. Tingling sensation suddenly wash over his whole being.

"I know you were in pain, perhaps still are but...please tell me how can I make it up to you." Eddie continues when Buck remains silent. He then delicately pulls Buck waist towards him, embracing into the warmth.

After a beat, Buck lets out a deep breath, returning Eddie's hug and settling against his chest.

"I was angry at you Eddie, I'm not gonna lie." Buck starts. That got Eddie all wide eyed. He tries to loosen the hug, but Buck keeps him at his place.

"When I was under, I thought about how Ana could replace me in your and Chris' life." Buck whispers into the crook of Eddie's neck.

"How easy for her to fit it in. How easy for Chris to love her. How easy for you to love her. How she's able to give you a child or two if you want to. How perfect the picture will be. How easy I am to be forgotten." Buck forlornly confess. The ominous shadow of his mind is not some place inviting.

Eddie frowns with guilt and shame but as he tries to say something, he is quickly cut by Buck.

"But then, I woke up to your voice, your hands warm against mine. And when I am able to see, watching you sitting there beside me, all of my insecurities fly away. I know I must have look horrible but you still stay. Laying in the hospital bed is not exactly sexy, you know." Buck chuckles, tightening his hold against Eddie's strong back.

Eddie laughs lightly but it was hard to imagine how Buck must have felt at that time. Confused and in pain. Unable to control his body and mind.

Eddie then slowly moves his hand upwards to cup Buck's face, short stubble soft against his palms.

Gazing into the baby blues, Eddie can see the uncertainty storming under the irises. Eddie tenderly brush the bottom of Buck's lips with his. "Evan, no matter what condition you'll be in the future, I promise you, I'll stay. I've made a mistake and I'm going to make it right by you if you let me." Another soft kiss lingers.

Eddie's fingers later find themselves cupping Buck's neck and Buck melts into the kiss. Before they know it, they keep kissing like their lives depend on it.

"I actually thought if I was killing you with my confession. Whether it was better if I just keep my mouth shut." Eddie admits a bit later, with their foreheads against each other fighting for a breather.

"Hey, don't do that to yourself. If anything, I'm partially to blame. I've been ignoring the signs, dismissing them as stress or lack of sleep." Buck tries to balm Eddie's guilt. "And it's better for the news to come out from your rather than hearing it from someone else."

Nevertheless, Eddie still can't forget how limp his husband body was laying against him in the station's locker room. At how pale his husband has been. No matter how hard Eddie tried to rouse him, Buck's eyes had remained shut.

Easy silence washed over them, swaying together in a tight embrace to the mute music only they can hear.

"Evan, I am sorry."

"I know."

Eddie paused. "No, seriously. I am so fucking sorry."

Buck smiles fondly. "And I seriously fucking know it."

"Just don't do it again." Buck parroted what Eddie had previously said to him with a sly grin. Oh God, the sexual tension back then had been overbearing.

Just like that, Eddie feels like the axis of his world sets to right again, spinning gracefully. Not as halted or indented as before.

"I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made

Already made that mistake"

(Lover of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer)

#cirrius akiyo's bunkdump #buddie fanfiction #buddie #buddie fic #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #911 fics #911 fic #911 fanfic #Rambler not Writer #evan buckley #edmundo diaz #songfic

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border-spam · 4 years

Text

Maw

Troy inspects his latest body modification prior to a planned reveal to his followers in a horrific LetsFlay, and considers how heavy the price he’s paid to change his appearance may really be.

Part of my Leech Lord AU series, some OC mentions. Long post. TW - Terminal illness, body image / mental health issues, gore, violence, death

He hissed sharply inwards, then held the breath in his lungs. Futilely willing his heartbeat to calm as he began to mentally count down from 10 like the surgeon had taught him. Every session had been a little better than before, he’d get through it. Stay focused, stay calm, and count from Ten...

Nine… Same as he’d had to do twice a day for the last month, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened on the rim of the stone basin. Eight… Same seemingly endless 10 seconds he’d endured over and over. They would end, keep breathing. Seven… Eyes screwed tightly closed and brow furrowed as the burning pain shot through his gums and jaw. Six… Slowly exhaling through his nose as the fire traveled down his throat and into the root of his tongue. Five… The surgeon had said this would take weeks, not a month. Four… Lower lip trembling as the pain faded into a throb, faster than last time, good. Three… He’d known it would need this care. He’d researched. He’d known. No regrets now. Two… He’d just overestimated how fast he would heal, that’s all. It was major surgery. It would be worth it in the end. One … It would be worth it.

It would be worth the pain.

Letting his head drop forward as he shuddered in a slow breath, Troy slowly opened his watery eyes and took in his reflection in the mirror he faced, softly illuminating him in the dark comfort of his ship’s washroom.

He looked haggard. Cool blue eyes bloodshot and beginning to spill over with the tears he’d held back as the pain subsided, normally rich sepia skin faded to a sickly pallor and glistening with sweat. Some king he was.

“F-fuck..” He sputtered, watching in disgusted fascination as the antiseptic wash gushed over his lips and into the sink under him, leaving strings of blood tinged saliva trailing under his chin. Deep crimson swirls mixing through the blue medical fluid as it splashed up the sides of the basin.

The reaction to the cleaning was a little better than last time, he thought with a sigh as he turned the faucet and watched the medical fluid swirl down the drain. It was healing, and he probably only had another week or so to go before it was fully functional, but shit. It hurt still. A lot.

Running a thumb gently over the swollen reddened seam in his lip, he decided to remind himself why he’d done this as he stared at the dribble of fresh blood it had leaked onto his finger.

Why he’d spent months researching, contacting body mod experts, surgeons, flaunting his name and infamy to reassure them that yes, he was serious. Yes, he had given this plenty of thought. Yes, he understood how major this would be. Yes, he appreciated how much of his jaw and tongue wouldn’t actually be him anymore. That things may not taste the way he remembered after. That his mouth would never be the same.

He had done it, because he didn’t like his mouth in the first place.

It was too soft. Too big, lips too full. It smiled too wide and drew the eye to his delicate cheekbones, he was so sick of being delicate. Troy had been delicate enough his entire childhood, he didn’t want to be as a man too. He wanted respect. He wanted power.

He’d never given it much thought before Pandora. Never really thought about how he looked at all. It had just never been something that required any attention. Why would either have them had even considered their appearances? How they looked had no affect on how well they scavenged, or helped his twin on the nights she was overwhelmed with the reality of her gifts, or change how Pop had acted around him..

It just had never mattered. They were them. They were each other. Why would they need to ever look different? How could it change anything?

He hadn’t cared till Pandora, till other people started to care. And comment. And they had commented plenty in those first few months he and his twin had spent trying to form what was now the planet consume behemoth known as the Children of the Vault. Tyreen had quickly been accepted after he’d designed her imposing outfit and she’d started styling her appearance, but he hadn’t been.

The tattoos had helped for a while, the gauges and piercings he got after too, but he’d had those years now, and he still wasn’t intimidating enough. He was still pitiful. That quiet, stammering, gut wrenchingly gentle voice in the back of his mind reminded him of that often enough on nights when he’d be unable to sleep. When he’d lay in bed staring at the dark ceiling of his bedchamber for hours, and feel his skin crawl while he pretended he couldn’t hear the whispers.

Their rapidly growing follower count had been plenty vocal about which of the twins was the more impressive. Which of the twins they mocked more. Which of the twins had fail collection echo vids of stumbling and looking sickly, and devoted fan forums offering pity and love for the clear underling.

He didn’t want pity. He didn’t want love. He wanted fear, so he changed it. He changed his face.

Troy Calypso is not Troy DeLeon. He does not make rash decisions and be hopeful for the best outcome, everything is planned, everything is schemed. A month out of public eye while he healed? That was fine. He preferred to not be in it that much recently anyway, not while he knew he looked soft…

That had changed now, he reminded himself, watching as his reflection slowly split its lips into a wide, vicious grin that didn’t quite reach its exhausted eyes.

His mouth was razor sharp now.

As the smile melted away, he let his jaw drop open, angling his head slowly from side to side to check the alignment with his skull. Perfect, so much better now that there wasn’t any swelling. Even and balanced, with no lingering stiffness like it had in the last week. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the seams that ran along the center of his chin and the width of his cheekbones were cosmetic, and man... he couldn’t wait to show the galaxy that they weren’t.

Bracing himself with a deep exhale, he lifted his arms, hooked his flesh fingers and prosthetic’s metal digits over the line of teeth on either side of his lower jaw, and snarled deeply as he pulled downwards. The sensation of this exercise had changed dramatically over the weeks. The agony of tearing apart the healing tissue had originally been so bad that the intensely powerful painkillers he’d been doped with for the first few days couldn’t mask it, but now it was more just.. strange. Like the tension of stretching a thick piece of elastic, but inside him. Muscles complained as they shifted unnaturally, despite weeks of training with them daily, but it didn’t hurt anymore. It just felt intimately wrong. Almost arousing in a way, and he noted with an amused snort that this could be a lot of fun in bed once healed up. Well, fun for him. Then again, he was all that ever mattered in that situation anyway. He stored it away as something else to look forward to after the reveal. Slowly easing the jaw downwards, he felt his upper lip curl into a smile as the latches on either side of his cheeks popped open, responding smoothly to the downwards movement on cue. No pain, no stiffness, an improvement at last. It really had been worth doing these exercises. Tilting his head back slowly to allow the jaw to distend fully downwards, he counted to three, a deep breath through his throat for each digit, and slowly… gently… began to pull outward. The shuddering crack that ran through his jawbone as it disconnected at the front seam reverberated up though his skull just like last time he’d done this, and he winced at the sharp jolt of pain. Bad, but nothing unbearable. He’d been through far worse. It still wept blood as it split apart and stretched to either side, but it was clean, and healing, and it looked monstrous.

It was perfect.

Holding each part of his split mandible outwards, he let himself relax, focusing on the muscular movement needed to force the modified tongue out from the depths of his throat and to hang beneath the open maw. This had healed really quickly, he’d been honestly surprised, but the damage in his neck had taken time. The torn and reattached muscle at the connection to his original tongue’s root in his throat still burned and ached like a healing bruise as he forced the slithering length outwards to lol between the jaws, and he slowly removed his hands from them. Keeping the jaws open like this with just muscle control had been something he’d only managed a day ago, and the difference in strength already was incredible. He watched the undulating waves of the extended tongue as it coiled, drool rolling down its writhing length as the mandibles above it twitched with the effort of holding them open without any support. The modified row of secondary teeth hidden inside the line of his natural jaw bone were exactly how he’d wanted them, serrated fangs pointing inwards like barbs. They knit together into a solid plate and rested under his tongue when the mandible closed, but open like this? Beautiful. Terrifying. His mouth looked like a weapon. It looked like he could eat you alive. Let’s see them laugh at him now, let’s see them call him soft when he could crunch their bones between his fucking teeth.

Troy gargled a crackling laugh over the pooling drool in his throat, smile creasing his eyes in the mirror’s reflection as the light caught his distended golden canines, inhumanly long tongue curling at the end in mirth. This was his mouth now. No one else in the universe had a mouth like this, this was unique! This was - “b-broken.”

That voice again...

“… Kkrrokennn... ” he slurred against his palate, tongue grotesquely twitching towards his chest as it attempt to form the word.

Now there was a memory he’d prefer to have not surfaced right now, swallowing the tongue slowly back into his throat as the mandible began to close.

It had been a long time, huh. Long time since he’d first noticed. Long time since he’d last asked why… He lifted his left hand and carefully pressed the lagging right mandible upwards, feeling the click as it connected and realigned with its twin. His eyes locked on his mouth in the mirror’s reflection, and absolutely not on the shape his peripheral vision insisted was standing in the darkness behind him. The one that he was aware was now speaking once more…

“Maybe it was j-just easier for her to not say the truth. Maybe you were less of a burden on her that way, huh. She m-must have been so tired of looking after you, Pop too. They must have been counting the minutes…” He heard it whisper in the back of his mind, that sickening, gentle voice it was getting harder and harder to tune out recently.

“Shut the fuck up.” He muttered under his breath, slowly leaning over the sink and resting his elbows in the rim, watching the water spiral down into the darkness of the drain. He’d made himself.. he’d made himself even more different now. Hadn’t he. Even more broken. What would she think now.

He treasures the memory of Leda. He loves her completely, and he knows that’s true, because damn.. the feelings never changed. He’s never stopped. When he thinks about his mother, he feels the exact same way he did last time he saw her. He was what, 8? Yeah. They were 8 when it happened, that’s right. They were 25 now… They had decayed from children into monsters and still, the exact same warmth blossoms deep in his core when he thinks of her now as it did when he was a little boy.

He feels the twinge of a smile pull at the seam on his lip as he focuses on letting his mind wander back to when he last saw her, but he wishes, in a festering way, she could see him now. Not because it would make her proud, no. God no. He knows she would be repulsed by what he sees in the mirror now, the thing with the metal fangs and hatred inked into its skin, but because he could show her how broken he really had been.

That he knew all along when he’d asked over and over as a child. That she should have just told him and not wasted her love and care on something that would become so disgusting.

He closes his eyes, listening to the running water gargling down the echoing pipe below him, and leans heavier onto this arms. Remembering.

God. He had been so sick.

-----

Day after day, unable to leave his parent’s bed, watching Tyreen’s tantrum’s towards Momma and Pop because Troy couldn’t come explore, or Troy was coughing too much, or Troy got to sleep with them when she didn’t, and it had really hurt to see her sad because of him. It had been his fault she was lonely.

He remembers the guilt, wanting so much to get up and go play with his sister, but not being able to stand for too long before the shakes would start, and then the seizures... Remembers being bundled up in Leda’s arms and bouncing against her hard shoulder as she ran back to their home, screaming at Typhon for letting Troy out of his sight. Troy was sick. Troy needed to rest. But he rested for so long that he forgot what it had been like before, and he never got any better.

He remembers the endless questions, and that they never gave him real answers, even though deep down he knew it was just because he was...

“Why do my stripes not glow, but Ty’s do, Pop?”

“Ty-die, how come you can make those sparks but I can’t do anything?“

“Momma how come everyone else has two arms and everyone else isn’t sick and I’m...“

“Broken broken broken BROKEN”

He remembers the gentle jostle of Leda shifting over onto the bed with him, the heat of her big strong hands against his ribs as she helped prop him up against the pillow as he weakly reached for the little wooden Knight he had left behind on Nekrotafeyo when they escaped. The one Sparrow had made for him. He remembers the frustration of not being able to hold it tightly enough to lift it, and how that seemed so very important at the time. Like it was the most unfair thing in the world. He remembers the comfort of her long fingers sweeping the hair back from his feverish forehead as he glared down at the faded wooden Knight with it’s snapped leg and peeling green paint, and the exhaustion in her voice as she wearily answered -

“Well.. not everyone is the same, Moonbright. Some people are sick sometimes, some people have shapes that might not look like other’s. Some people can sing, some people are clever, some people are kind, some people are terrible. Everyone’s different, babe. ”

And he remembers how dumb that answer sounded, trying not to be angry as he frowned, rolling the little wooden Knight on his lap as he stared down at the dull red markings across the fingers that gripped its broken leg.

“Yeah but Momma.. Why am I so different. ”

---

They never answered it. They never just said the truth. "Everyone is different" is obvious, of course he knew that. Kids aren’t stupid, and he had been a clever kid.. he had spent so many days in that bed wondering why they never just told him the reason he was so.. wrong. So many more as an adult wondering why did it take 13 more years of thinking back and questioning for Tyreen to matter of factly state “...Cuz they were waiting for you to die.” while filing her nails one evening in their shared quarters.

He knows now that they did it out of love, but he also knows he harbors some deep, toxic frustration with his parents because of it. He knows they were trying to keep him happy, that they thought the truth too cruel, but… he spent so many nights sick and alone and in pain, wondering that same question over and over as a child.. and they never told him.

Ty did. Ty does. Ty knows he’s just fucking broken.

They had tried to lie, to keep him from the cruel reality, but it had been true, and he wishes Leda could look at him now, see him hunched over a bloody sink having defiled his face, just so that she could turn away from him in disgust. Then he could know she hated him. Then he could stop holding on, just give up. Just let it go. Become this thing he’d crafted himself into, instead of holding on to dying threads of who he wished he still was inside. He lifts his hand to his face and presses his fingers into the bridge of his nose, pinching, the swirling water background noise now against the pressure inside his head.

How much of him was even left, really. How much of him was metal now, how much of him was the God King.

Years ago, when they had first arrived, Seifa had said he could become anything he wanted to make himself on Pandora, that he had a fresh start. A life. That it could be his choice, and that he had as much a say in it as Tyreen… and look at what he had made himself into in the end.

Exactly what she’d sworn to him that he wasn’t.

Less than 6 months since she’d dropped him like the burden he was, and he’d done this. He’d betrayed them both. Would Mom cry, or not have the tears to waste on what he’d chosen to become after everything she did to try and hide it from him.

A broken, monstrous thing.

He sighs, squinting at the faucet before reaching out and turning it off, then rubs at his eyes in the quiet of the dark washroom, smearing eyeliner further across his cheeks. He’s tired. He could have done without remembering this. It’s hard enough to sleep nowadays without getting stuck on shit like this all night. He stands slowly, stretching his back with a series of pops, and touches the tender side of his jaw gingerly. He still had a few of those painkillers, he remembers with a sniff. Couple of those should knock him out. Keep the nightmares away for one more night. He’d be making his big reveal soon anyway… With one last glance at the mirror, confirming he was alone in the room, Troy turned and walked towards the door to his bedchamber. Sleep now. Emotional bullshit later. That was for tomorrow him, he’d fix it then. He could fix everything, after all. Fixing problems was his forte. He only ever needed time.

---

The LetsFlay numbers looked gooood.

3 billion concurrent viewers and rising according to the stream data flickering in the inner forearm of his prosthetic, they were hungry for this. They were hungry to see him, he gloated, easily sidestepping the frantic stabbing of the heretic who’d been unfortunate enough to find themself face to face with God King Calypso in the wild melee of this raid. 3.5 now he glimpsed, grin wide enough to strain the clips at his cheeks as his sword crunched through the man’s torso, the weight of his prosthetic arm enough to make its downwards swing render solid bone to wet fragments. They didn’t even have time to yelp. Shame, that would have been great for the fans watching from home. He’d planned ahead to get the hype built around this specific raid, his media team working around the clock to spread articles and social updates that the King would be making an appearance, the first in the public’s eye in 2 months, and that he had a fun surprise to unveil for his followers. That he would be leading this raid, just him, all him. No Tyreen. She wasn’t needed this time.

The chaos around him is deafening, screeches shrieking over gunfire as COV marauders scream litanies to the Twin Gods while tearing the camp and its inhabitants apart. Heretics, idiots, they brought this on themselves. They should have taken the offer, joined the Children of the Vault when approached, not attacked a protected caravan in response. He laughs viciously over the raucous, grabbing a panicked bandit who’d dropped to their knees to beg for mercy in front of him, stuttering that they were a true believer as his retinue of crusaders slaughtered other heretics around them. Bullshit. Now they were just fodder, fuel for the media machine, playthings to tear apart on livestream and rile up the followers, get those sweet donations coming in, and mannn were those donations coming in, he noted with a chuckle, barely registering the wet popping of the man’s ribs puncturing his lungs as he ground him into the dirt with the monstrous robotic fist.

This was a great score. This was a game now, and he wished she could see him, blood spattering over his bare, toned torso as he marched onwards, pausing only to rip another piece of screeching meat in two, or sink metal teeth into a limb and tear it from its joint, and each new kill made the score go up:

--- 4 billion viewers. ---

His eyes burn with laughter as he crushes another throat, skin flushed and breathing heavy.

--- 4.5 billion viewers. ---

He sensually smears the blood dripping from his gilded mouth over his chest and abdomen with a obscene caress of his hand, maintaining eye contact with the floating cam circling him as he sneers, the adoration of billions of rabid followers flowing back through the flashing lens.

--- 5.5 billion viewers.

25 billion dollars in donations and it was all for HIM, for God King Calypso. ---

He wished Leda could see him now.

She can’t, but if she could, she’d really see. She’d know what he was all along. That she’d been wrong, and she should had killed him when she had the chance. Then he wouldn’t be here now, doing this to these filth.

His heart is pounding and he can’t fill his lungs quick enough, the insanity of the camp being slaughtered around him is just a blur of viscera and violence. It’s a bloodthirsty high he’s not felt in years and he’s lost to it, the carnal pulse of snapping bone and screaming faces, he’s invincible. He’s immortal, a God tearing through paper thin flesh as it laughs through bloodstained fangs. He’s Troy Calypso, Twin God, God King, he’s perf- Breath rushes out of his chest in a forced bellow as fire erupts through his ribs, and everything stops.

No sound, no movement. Just a heretic to his left, a crude bayonet, and a lucky stab. His retinue guard missed the open flank. A crusader is screaming his name but it’s not reaching him, he can’t hear them now. All he can see is this disgusting, meaningless, mortal thing staring into the eyes of a God, and the raw terror in their gaze as they realise they’ve missed anything vital. They whisper something, perhaps an apology, but it’s too late.

In one fluid motion, Troy’s maw splits and engulfs their entire head as he whips to the side.

There is a single second that feels like an infinity as the entire camp seems to draw in a silent breath, as every marauder, every crusader, every piece of bandit scum looks on in silent, horrified awe. Billions of eyes across the echonet watch in shock in that moment that seems to last an eternity. Watch as he feels the man’s muffled scream start against his tongue, as the serrated fangs lock into his flesh, watch as with a guttural roar, Troy bites down…

… and the heretic’s skull is crushed in his jaws.

Bone shards and pulped brain matter burst between the mandibles in a spray of gore, and the bloodcurdling screech that rises up from the followers throughout the camp is like nothing he has ever heard. It’s like a dream.

It’s a swelling hymn from the mouths of hundreds, all to him, to his glory. They shriek his name in a fervent prayer to their hallowed God King, and he closes his eyes as the chanting swells to a cacophony around him, blood streaming down his chest as he lets the mangled body drop from his hanging maw to the ground.

The hysterical screaming rises to fever pitch, and he stands, unmoving. Their God. Eyes closed and arms held open in triumphant welcome as the deafening noise engulfs him, heart pounding through frantic ecstasy as viscera drops from his twitching jaws.

A towering monster standing amongst the corpses of insects.

He glances down, panting, at his stream data. Letting his mind focus on the blinking panel as he yanks the bloody bayonet from his heaving ribs with a grunt.

--- 8.5 billion live viewers.

“God King Calypso” trending across all major social media.

55 billion dollars in donations to the LetsFlay stream. ---

He wishes she could see what he is now, so he could stop pretending to himself she’d still love him.

He just hopes the camera isn’t picking up the tears he can taste as they drip from his cheeks and run down his squirming tongue.

Check out the #my hcs and #my writing tags on blog for more content if you enjoyed this! Comments and reblogs appreciated. :)

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #my writing #my hcs #ocs #seifa

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tsukoyomi-fumikage · 4 years

Text

Nightmare (ShouToko)

Shoji X Tokoyami

Prompt - Tokoyami’s dark shadow is a protective boy and will fight anyone who tries to harm his friend - a nightmare awakens that protectiveness

Just a little hurt/comfort drabble from my wattpad oneshot book: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/220422495-my-hero-academia-oneshots

A knock sounded on Shoji's door, awakening the six-tentacled man to a more aware state. He slid his eyes open, grabbed his mask, and stood up, rushing over to the door in his Pajama bottoms. Due to his quirk, he tended to sleep without a shirt, the fabric bothering his laying position at night. As he opened up his door, he came face to face with a tired-looking Aoyama.

Aoyama and him never really spoke - they didn't have much in common and their quirks didn't Aline together at all. He quirked an eyebrow in confusion - however it must've not been seen from under his straight-forward-styled hair. His tentacles took this opportunity to stretch, bending and moving into different body parts

The 'sparkly' man frowned. "It's Tokoyami. I think he had a nightmare."

Mezo's eyes widened - for most people, they feel at ease drifting off to sleep most nights, not having a care in the world, however, Fumikage did not have that sweet relief. Ever since he developed his quirk, and understood its raw power, he's been terrified of the dark, sleeping, or anything to connect himself to a world where you can't see anything, and are useless at defending yourself. The only reason his room is so... edgy, is because Dark Shadow can talk to Yami, influencing him to make things for both of them - it's weird watching the conversations: They happen everywhere - the dining room, training, heck, even in lessons. Shoji bets Aizawa-Sensei has never had to tell off a quirk before he met them.

That wasn't the point though, he concluded, following his fellow classmate down the corridor and then down the stairs to level two, where Tokoyami, Aoyama, Midoryia and Mineta slept. The more styled of all the male heroes gave a tired smile, making sure it was a good one, despite the early time of the morning. "Have fun, I need my beauty sleep now." Before turning on his heel and stalking away, closing his door quietly.

Shoji waited for a few minutes in the empty corridor, staring at the door. Who knows if Tokoyami even is there at the minute - what if he walks in, calming as can be, and accidentally shocks his best friend into becoming something that he hates, that makes him cry and shout and squirm as it takes over, covering him in a sickening purple-black, latching onto him, roars drowning out the sobs of the man suffering underneath. What if he'd already broken out of his friend; would Shoji serve as a problem to add to Tokoyami's nightmare and Dark Shadow? Shaking his head and breathing deeply, he uses his first right hand to turn the door and pushes it open softly.

"Yami?" He calls softly into the darkness, eyes frantically trying to adjust. "Are you... Okay? Aoyama thought he heard you having a nightmare." Carefully, he looks for his phone, which he'd remembered falling asleep with. It was still there, tucked in his pocket, and he pulled it out. "I'm going to use the torch to see you, okay?"

Turning it on, Shoji's eyes, both on his actual face and on his tentacles, closed at the bright light, trying to, again, adjust to another change in circumstances. After a few seconds, Mezo opens them, shining the torch right at his friends face.

Tokoyami is shaking, but, the thing that scares Shoji the most is the hand - the Dark Monster hand. It's sprouting out of Toko's chest, and it's clawing at the hoodie the bird has drawn around him in an attempt to save himself from losing control to fear of being alone.

"You're doing an amazing job, Toko." He smiled under his mask, but knows that's not enough, so he quickly makes a mouth on his second left tentacle to allow the boy to see the smile and understand that he meant no harm. "Are you going to change?" He asks quietly.

"I-I don't know." Tokoyami looked like he wanted to wail out of frustration, but he held the cry in. "I t-think s-s-so."

The hand was getting bigger - if it had been more than a shadow, Mezo was certain that would've split the boys chest open, and that image flooded his mind. He shook the thoughts away. "I can carry you outside." He said softly, heart tightening at the look of pain his friend gave him; desperate, fearful. "Can I come closer?"

The bird lowered his beak, closing his eyes. It took Shoji a few seconds to understand that he was agreeing - Tokoyami how had the arm of said hand sticking out of his chest now, wrapping around the boy, and if trying to pull itself out. The six-tentacled student quickly trotted over, grabbing a nearby blanket to wrap the much smaller boy up in, before lifting him up, surrounding him with his arms, squeezing him, trying to be tighter than Dark Shadow must have been around Tokoyami, to try and make him feel safe and secure.

The thing that was disturbing him now was the fact he could feel the arm - and it was twitching, withering under his intense hug. Tokoyami's eyes met his, and he let out a loud sob against his will. Shoji took no time at all opening a nearby window and hopping out, quickly running over to some grass nearby some lights from the large house's kitchen.

Carefully, he lowered the feathered boy down, stepping back to give him space. His eyes widened when Tokoyami reached out for him, sobbing loudly. Shoji didn't know if it was safe to approach him again, but he did anyway, turning the teen around and pressing the bird's back into his chest, allowing the dark hand coming out of his chest to uncurl from around him and slash at the ground angrily.

Dark Shadow never means to hurt anybody, however, when it comes to his 'owner' being hurt or feeling intense emotions, it drives him to want to protect. Even if he can talk and think on his own, he's still a quirk, still attached to Tokoyami, still part of him. Watching him rage angrily is like watching Tokoyami's mental health in physical form. Shoji closed his eyes, focusing on holding the shaking teen close, rubbing the smallers arms, from where the hoodie sleeves had been rolled up, the limbs cold and sluggish under his touch.

Mezo himself was cold, being without a shirt and having a lot of his body exposed to the night. He refrained from shaking or shivering though, fearing it could cut deep at Tokoyami's last drop of sanity at the moment. "It's alright." He used his real mouth to talk to his friend. He leaned down next to the boy's ear - or well, where he supposed it was. "It's okay now."

Dark Shadow was becoming less and less tearing, resorting itself to laying by Tokoyami's curled legs, surrounded by Shoji's own legs. The hand and arm was all relaxed now, having let out all its emotions on the grass. Mezo opened his eyes, assessing the damage to the ground - luckily, it hadn't been any concrete or school property, but the grass had been torn away violently, leaving dirt, a few bugs, and some rocks scattered everywhere. The arm slowly went back in Tokoyami's chest, followed by the hand, covered in dirt. The dirt didn't follow, and fell from the shadow as it passed back into the owners body, dropping onto the ground.

The bird let out a large shudder, followed by a small hiccup. "Thank you.. Shoji."

He hugged him tightly, smiling under his mask. "It's alright, 'Yami."

They bundled into Shoji's room that night, the larger man holding the smaller closely with his quirk, protecting him from the world. Tokoyami slept peacefully that night, a small hand clenching the blanket that was wrapped around him, and so did Shoji, who carefully petted the dark feathers until he drifted off slowly.

It wasn't perfect, but it was precious.

#bnha fumikage #bnha mezo shoji #bnha shoutoko #bnha shotoko #bnha tokoshoji #bnha hurt/comfort #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha aoyama

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gone-series-orchid · 3 years

Note

i was re-reading your fics and i'm honestly amazed at how in character they all are! maybe strange question, but what one emotion do you think drives the gone characters the most (any you want to talk about of course!)? and what is their defining trait to you? thanks so much, i really enjoy your content!! -anon who's sent more than i'd like to admit 😂 maybe "🎀" anon if you do that kind of thing? :)))

omg, anon, thank you so much!!!! (and yes, i love the idea of the emoji; i christen thee “🎀” anon!) i love getting feedback on my fics; they’re so fun to write! i’m glad you think all the characters are true to how they are in the books—i’d beg to differ, as i think i’m admittedly still trying to get a handle on them, even after all these years! i have a sneaking tendency i tweak the characters a bit in favor of making the admittedly non-canonical events work, but i guess that’s typical of fanfic writers as a whole. i make it difficult for myself, though, as it’s been too long since i read the books. i i should really pick them up again.... still, thank you so much, anon, your words mean a lot to me!!

as for what drives the characters in “gone” the most? that’s a good question! i think all the characters throughout the series are all driven by the need to survive, obviously—but i think there’s also the prevailing need, at least in the “good” characters like sam and co., to believe that they’re doing the right thing. but in a world where all the authority figures and guiding influences have poofed, how can they be sure?

that’s why, for over half of the series, astrid clings to her faith and intelligence, and why sam tries to live up to his nickname of “schoolbus sam.” as young teenagers, the kids in the fayz haven’t properly developed their sense of self yet, so they latch onto things like the bible, or the belief that they’re meant to be king, or the belief that they’re a “bad girl”; they try to make themselves live up to symbolic representations. that steadily breaks down over the course of the series as the kids mature—diana seeks redemption through motherhood, realizing she can change and become good, astrid loses her faith but finds her own sense of agency, sam realizes he isn’t fit for leadership and steps down to make way for edilio, who alone is level-headed and mature enough to set his ego aside and perform his role as needed.

i think it’s interesting how all the “gone” characters (except for caine, drake, and maybe minor characters like brianna), morality is very important. even diana, an antagonist who’d be well within her right to say she’s doing good by staying with caine, knows that by some standard of morality she’s internalized that she’s “bad.” sam is terrified of being found out by an invisible jury of adults that he’s “bad,” that he’s been witness to countless deaths and trauma, and suffers survivor’s guilt because of that. astrid is sure that she is “good,” only to, in plague, recognize her folly and spiral into the same pit of self-loathing and doubt that sam and diana are trapped in (and eventually climb out of).

i think what drives a character like orc, mostly, is insecurity. that’s what makes him a sort of live wire. he’s insecure about his lack of intelligence, his father, his mother, his self-worth, everything. that’s why astrid’s kindness towards him affects him so much—she treats him like a person while he sees himself as a monster. she’s the one who inadvertently makes him realize that he deserves better. he has a powerful attraction to her because she’s the only one who makes him feel like a person worthy of respect. that’s what makes his attitude toward her during the coates scene in plague so frightening, because he’s essentially deciding to forgo any pretense of humanity and give into his worst self-destructive urges—putting him alongside the likes of the id-driven, pseudo-sexually sadistic drake—in the process of trying to kill himself. not only is he trying to kill himself physically, but he’s also trying to kill astrid’s image of him, the image that he’s previously tried and failed to live up to, by attacking her.

sorry, 🎀 anon, i think i went off track a little bit! nonetheless, i hope this sort of answers your questions.

speaking of fics! i’m currently writing one that attempts to disentangle astrid and sam’s relationship in fear. it also puts sam and diana together, though to what extent I don’t know. it might be unrequited…. also astrid is there, trying to sort out her spirituality and her feelings toward sam and diana, and also trying to help orc find god and also sorting out her feelings about THAT…astrid has a lot of inner conflict in this one, lol. hopefully i’ll get it done sometime soon!

feel free to send more asks, 🎀 anon!! you know I love them!!

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kdtheghostwriter · 4 years

Text

SNK 122 - Avalanche

Who would have thought when it happened that Eren kissing Historia’s hand would be THE moment of Shingeki no Kyojin. Imagine you’re picking up this lovely series for the first time. You see a fresh take on the survival-horror genre and think, “I could get into this.” A couple volumes in, you discover the zombie horde tale was a clever cover for a fleshy mecha gimmick. “Weird,” you think, “but ok.” Now it’s ten years and 130+ chapters later. We’re all reading a retelling of the Norse Myth of Creation wrapped in a cozy WWII disguise.

What do any of these words mean? Join me under the cut. It’s time for lore.

Thoughts on the chapter first. We finally get to see the life and times of Founder Ymir. Not surprisingly, she appears to be of vague Northern European origin in what appears to be the Middle Ages. The ancient Eldians were Vikings basically, but back then they weren’t even Eldian. They were human just like everyone else…until they weren’t.

Founder Ymir’s story eerily mirrors that of 104th Ymir. As a small child, she was nothing more than a scapegoat. Born a servant girl, she empathized with the group of pigs that had been captured. She released them, no doubt ruining someone’s feast in the process. A soldier asks who the offending party is and we see a great panel of Ymir surrounded by pointing fingers John Wick style.

Much like Mr. Wick, Ymir goes on the run only in a much different context. John Wick, in his universe, is the most prolific assassin alive. He’s on the run, but he’s not defenseless. Ymir is a child and is defenseless. The men (and I do emphasize the grown men) that chase after her never perceive her as a threat. They’re having a sporting time terrifying and slowly killing this innocent child. Running out of energy and time, Ymir happens across a humongous tree and decides an odd hiding spot is better than none at all. Entering the base of the tree, she falls down into an unseen hole – like Alice into the looking glass – and just as she’s about to lose consciousness, she comes in contact with what can only be described as…this.

A parasite? An alien lifeform? An ancient Eldridge manifestation? Maybe. Just like another old Myth there isn’t really a clear answer nor will there be. ‘Tis the Source of all Organic Matter and it was always there it was, lad.

We get several lessons here about how history can warp our perceptions of the individual players in both a positive and negative sense. Ymir never made a deal with the Devil to get her overwhelming power. She literally fell backwards into a divot and came out big as a mountain. On the other hand, the Founding Titan was not this ethereal being of divine beauty. The First Titan was grotesque to look at. It had no true face and its ribs were exposed, which I guess makes sense for a creature that large. Founder Ymir was a victim of circumstance and oppression. She has the power of nature and God at her fingertips but has only known servitude. That’s why there is no objection when she hears the following.

Not only is there CLEARLY no consent here, but I’m fairly sure Ymir is barely a teenager here so – Double Dose of Yikes!

Fittingly (or tragically, who can tell at this point), Ymir has three daughters: Maria, Rose and Sina. She raises her children while helping her nation conquer the lands around them with her unmatched power. However, thirteen years after her eldest child is born, a rogue soldier makes an attempt on the king’s life and Ymir leaps in front of the spear; one final act of indentured service.

Sort of. She is told correctly that she isn’t in danger. No doubt she has come back from far worse injuries than a spear to the collar. King Fritz tells her to get up and continue being a slave and Ymir says fuck you with her whole chest and gives up the ghost right there.

This shocking development leads to two things. First, we see the most graphic panel in a series full of gore and body horror as the children of Ymir are forced by Dear Old Dad to cannibalize their mother’s still-cooling corpse in order to obtain her power. Then, we see Ymir wake up in what we now know as the Paths dimension. Here she shall stay until a certain someone is able to receive and respond to her call for help.

That’s all for the backstory, now what about the source? It’s been documented well that Isayama loves myth and folklore especially of the Norse variety. Near the beginning of #122 we see Ymir fall into a tree that Momtaku and her co-host Luna succinctly describe as “both phallic and vulvic at the same time.” This seems like a clear reference to Yggdrasil, The World Tree. Yggdrasil is an interdimensional bridge with each branch connecting to a different realm, not unlike the branches we see in the PATHS dimension. Then we have the spine-like creature that latches on to Ymir like Symbiote under the tree. See if this looks familiar.

Nidhogg is a serpent that is known for eating away at the roots of the World Tree. It also has a famous rivalry with an unnamed eagle that sits atop Yggdrasil. A constant struggle between freedom and entrapment which is of course a central theme to this story. I’ve seen meta theorize that if the briny parasite represents the serpent of the Tree, that Eren Jaeger would represent the eagle the overlooks it and seeing how he’s spent most of this tale with wings on his back, that makes about as much sense as anything else.

It’s all a lead-up to Ragnarok: the End of the World.

Yup, that looks like the end to me.

When the First King lined up those Titans to form those walls, he couldn’t have known someone would find the one loophole to circumvent his failsafe. The reason the Coordinate Powers only fully activate for those of Royal Blood. It isn’t because of their genes alone. Ymir is a slave to the Royal Family, even centuries after her physical death. It isn’t until someone gives her a choice that she even thinks to take a different course of action.

What a charmer. This panel and the one that follows are both very important to me. Zeke, in his frenzy is a spitting image of King Fritz. Yes, the are directly related but also, I think there is something to be said of him taking on the form of Ymir’s greatest oppressor. After she hears Eren’s pitch to lend him her world-shattering power we see her eyes, full of tears, for the first time. Not an accident. It’s the first time in 2,000 years anyone has treated her like a person.

This is not an official theory or anything but it’s how I interpret this. The title of this chapter ‘From You, 2,000 Years Ago’ is of great significance outside of how it mirrors the title of the very first chapter. Ymir was sending a message and when we remember the Attack Titan’s special trait of moving (and looking) forward it’s clear who the messenger was. The question then becomes, was Eren the only one who was able to answer the call? Yes, just not for the reasons you would think.

Technically, any of the Attack Titans (or any of them, I guess) could have unlocked the PATHS with enough work. The problem is, the only knowledge of Ymir’s story and the history of the Eldian people was with the Coordinate which, historically, was possessed by the Royal Line. It wasn’t until that fateful night when Grisha stole the Coordinate away that a very specific set of conditions could be met.

Once a single person of their own free will got even a glimpse of the tortured history and fate of Founder Ymir it was enough to set an incredibly complex series of events into motion. This is why the Attack Titan, even during the Great Titan War, can never listen to reason. They know what the end game is, thanks to Eren sending them snaps of that scenery.

Eren was special after all. Just not in the way we first thought. Funny that.

Stray Thoughts

- Keep in mind that the final panel of Eren’s new Titan exploding out of his severed head happens the instant it lands in Zeke’s hand. How must Gabi be feeling right now? You think you’ve slain the Devil of the Earth and all you’ve done instead is give him immense power and an army of unstoppable giants. Someone get the Bart cake gif in the replys.

- The most impressive part of seeing Ymir’s backstory is that it was largely done with no dialogue. Almost felt like we were reading a scroll or ancient tome. Credit to the author for crafting such a deep, rich world to explore. Somehow, Shingeki no Kyojin isn’t the story he’s always wanted to tell but it will rightfully be the one he is best known for.

- Once again Zeke blows a 3-1 lead by being an entitled shithead. He and the rest of his family knew the story of Ymir and the fate she suffered and still saw fit to not only keep her imprisoned but to use her as a tool to subjugate their own people. No tears from me, muchacho.

#snk meta #shingeki no spoilers #snk 122 #eren jaeger #zeke jaeger #founder ymir #king fritz #congrats btw to the king #you have usurped capt gross for biggest heel in snk

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achtung-attitude · 4 years

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CHAPTER 26: Abraxas - Part 4

While ACHTUNG BABY does what it can to defend its master from the onslaught of fists and blows, Shizuka can’t help but feel a pain not only on her body, but within herself as well.

“I can’t do this… I’m not strong enough… I’m not like them… I never will be…”

“Well, of course not. How could you be?”

In an office surrounded by bookshelves and starfish in display cases, a large man in a dark coat inspects the contents of an aquarium on his desk. His hat is pulled low over his brow, as he diligently takes notes. Behind him is a pale young girl, with dark hair, standing against the wall, with sunglasses positioned on her head. The office sways slightly, rocking gently to and fro.

“So you agree… I’m not strong enough.” the girl asks, staring at his back.

“That’s not what I said. I meant, of course you’re not like us. You’re your own person.”

“Yeah, maybe I am... but that doesn’t mean I’m good enough. Even if I’m my own person, it’s not like I’m really… a part of you all. We’re not really family…

“I know why I’m here, Jotaro. I’m not stupid. You took me out on this trip because you felt sorry for me. But it’s OK. I don’t feel sad anymore… I don’t feel anything.”

The man says nothing, taking his notes on a clipboard.

“I clung to Daddy and Mamma for everything. Everything. They were my foundation. Every person needs something to build themselves on. But mine was built on sand. I’ll never know who my real parents were, who my own family is. All I have is Mamma to cling on to. And when she’s gone, I’ll disappear completely. I’ll just be… empty.”

There is silence in the room for a while. Then, Jotaro calls out, “Shizuka, come over and look at this.”

Shizuka does, after a moment of confusion. “What?”

“Look at this,” the man says, pointing at a rock in the aquarium, “see that, encrusted on the rock? Look there, it’s opening its shell to release its legs.”

Shizuka looks, and what she thought was some sort of stone opens up to extend an appendage similar to a feather duster. “What is that?” she asks as Jotaro rolls up his sleeve and dips his hand into the aquarium, picking up the rock the thing is attached to. He presents the rock, water dripping all over the floor.

“An acorn barnacle. Those feathery things are modified legs, left over from their larval stage. Most species of barnacle attach themselves to substrate, but many others cling to animals. These, for example, like to latch onto to humpback whales. At first glance, they resemble bivalve molluscs like clams or mussels, but in fact they’re crustaceans, closer to crabs.”

“Ohh, ok… Does it have anything to do with what we were talking about?”

“No. It just fascinates me.”

“...Ok.”

“Come outside with me for a second.”

Jotaro gets up from his seat abruptly and steps out of the lab. Shizuka follows him outside, bewildered. On the deck of the research vessel, she can see land in the distance. Gulls cry overhead. Jotaro stares straight ahead. The name painted on the side of the vessel is OCEAN MAN.

“2 years ago, the world nearly came to an end.”

Shizuka blinks. “What?”

“A man named Enrico Pucci, a follower of an old enemy of mine, set in motion a plan which would give him the power to end the world and remake it in his image. Jolyne and I tried to stop him, and we failed. STAR PLATINUM couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t touch him.”

“... Well, it couldn’t have been that bad, considering we’re all still here.”

“Yes. We have Giorno Giovanna to thank for that.”

“Who?”

“Giorno Giovanna. The son of that old enemy of mine, the very one Pucci lived for. He appeared out of nowhere, drawn by fate to Cape Canaveral, just like we were. He saved our lives, stopped Pucci with the most terrifying ability I’ve ever seen. But with his death came something I can’t explain; things were different. The world seemed different. Maybe the nature of Pucci’s ability was that it would affect the world in spite of his death. I don’t know. But in spite of everything, I was still alive. Jolyne was still alive. We all were still alive.”

Shizuka grimaces, looking down. “But then Daddy died six months later anyway! So you got upstaged, what difference does it make!?”

“It makes a difference. I was afraid. I still am.”

“... You are…?”

“I’m afraid that the world we’re in is the wrong one. I’m afraid of Giorno Giovanna’s power, however much he seems to intend to use it for good. In that moment when Death stared me straight in the face, I truly felt powerless. I feared that I would die, unable to do anything to protect the ones I love.

“I was afraid of losing my family. But I didn’t. I still have my daughter, and all of you.”

“But... we’re not family. I’m… not your family.”

“Yes you are. We might not share any blood, but that’s not what families are made from. Connections don’t start with the blood, but the Will. The old man chose you, made you his daughter. You dishonor his memory by denying that connection.”

“But Daddy isn’t here anymore…!”

“He lives in you. He left behind a legacy of adventure and justice, and spent his final years raising you. As long as we live with pride, he’s always with us.”

Too busy stifling tears to pull away from Jotaro’s gentle embrace, Shizuka buries her face into her nephew’s shirt. “What-- What do I even do?”

“I don’t know. You have to decide, but whatever you do, you’ll be fine. You are Joseph Joestar’s daughter.”

Shizuka sniffs, and dribbles snot into the fabric of Jotaro’s coat. Shaking his head, he says “Good grief…”

---

“My own way of doing things?” Shizuka murmurs, staring in the mirror. “What is my way of doing things? Who am I, even?” She has returned home, standing in the bathroom of her parents’ New York apartment, where she has lived her whole life.

Once again, she places the sunglasses over her eyes, casting a reddish veneer over her vision. She raises her hand, and concentrates. Before her eyes, the hand turns invisible. “This power… That I’ve always used to hide away… To disappear… I don’t want that! I don’t want to disappear! I want to be real!!”

She began with practicing smiles in the mirror, her face so unused to it. A spirit gripped her, a new determination she had never before known. Having mastered smiling, she began further preparations.

Sunbathing herself beet red, experimenting with all manner of make-up, nearly bleaching the hair right off her scalp. Every misstep only fuelled her determination, to take the next step in her transformation.

She would no longer be someone who hid, who disappeared. She would draw attention, burn herself into people’s memories. Like a star, shining light in the dark.

She would be Shizuka Joestar.

---

Back in the present, Phantasma swings a heavy fist at her. She jumps back, losing her footing and stumbling backwards into the ropes. Her ears are ringing and there is a whirlpool in skull. Beneath her feet, shards of shattered glass crunch. Leaning back over the ropes, Shizuka sees the broken skylight above her. The shaft of light that illuminate the dim place.

“Phantasma…” she murmurs.

The masked woman listens, her eyes till covered by the makeshift blindfold. “Hmm?”

“Do you know… about whale barnacles?”

“... Excuse me?”

“Whale barnacles. Like the barnacles that you find stuck to piers or rocks in tide pools, only these ones attach themselves to live whales, especially humpbacks. My nephew told me about them.”

“... I seem to have struck you so hard you can’t think straight. You were doing so well before, and now you’re making a fool of yourself, once again.”

Shizuka gasps, gulping air into her harried lungs before speaking again. “The thing with barnacles is, they live their whole adult lives cemented to a single object, but they are not part of it. They are wholly independent.

“In extreme cases, a lot of barnacles can provide a humpback whale with armor, protecting it from rivals or predators. But it might also cause extra drag, slowing it down. But only in extreme cases, and even then, the barnacles do not serve the whale at all. They are completely, independent beings. Phantasma… I’m sure you think you’ve already won, yes?”

Phantasma cocks her head to one side. “I don’t follow what you’re saying. You are right, of course, I look forward to your final moments. I expect them to be glorious. But what do barnacles have to do with anything?”

“It’s just the first… the first thing you need to understand.” She says, pulling herself, facing forward. Her vision is unfocused, as she stares straight past Phantasma, at the gap in the ropes where Moya fell through.

“The first? What, then, is the second?”

“The second thing is my name,” she stands, no longer leaning on the ropes. “You heard it before, but I don’t think you were paying attention, so I’ll tell you again. My name is Shizuka Joestar. That name is why you’re going to lose.”

“Oh? How so? Will your family’s lawyers litigate me to death? It’s worth a try, I suppose,” the masked woman sneers.

“It’s not about money, it’s about tradition,” Shizuka says, her smile weakly returning. “Within the Joestar family, there’s a technique that’s been passed down through the generations. A surefire move that not even Moya knows about.”

“A secret technique?” Phantasma asks, her grin becoming genuine.

“That’s right. You told me to fight until my last breath… well, if all my other options are through, then I have no choice… I hope you’re ready for this…!”

“I am ready. Show me, Shizuka Joestar!” ABRAXAS emerges, banging its chest before readying itself behind Phantasma. “Show me what your blood is worth!”

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #shizuka joestar #jotaro kujo #ch26

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