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rumisgf · 2 months

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“MY GIRL” SATORU GOJO X BLACK!READER

summary: gojo is known for having talking stages with lots of people, which leads you to doubt that you’re not just another talking stage. but, after talking for a while, he finally wants you to be his. he’s willing to do whatever it is to prove you’re his and show you how he really feels.

includes: implied “situationship”, fem terms and pronouns used, player!gojo, lover girl!reader, confession, eventual smut, fluff, lots of praise, oral f! receiving, penetration, possessiveness, corruption kink if you squint

it’s no secret that saturo gets around. he’s had his fair share of entanglements, flings, and hookups. but, you were different.

when he had a crush on you, he found himself more nervous than usual. his brain couldn’t function properly- even worse than its natural state of aloofness. he’d blabber about you to everyone. namami, geto, kiyotaka, shoko, hell even his own student itadori— he’d talk about you to megumi nonstop for gods sake, and i promise you that boy was tired of hearing about you.

then, he finally got you. he finally got the courage to make advances on you. to his surprise, they were reciprocated. you two would flirt, stay in each other’s dorms, go on “links”, you both even get to the point of falling asleep on the phone and good morning texts.

and he actually treated you very well. he was sweet, showered you with compliments, and he didn’t even hide you from others. but, a part of you still had doubt. you were aware of his past and didn’t wanna look dumb. your friends would make little jokes about you being “delulu” and always pointing out how whipped you were, so you’d be more than embarrassed if he ended up playing with your feelings.

these were all the thoughts going through you head before you knocked on the man’s apartment door, coming to hang with him after he texted you and asked you to come chill with him.

you always said yes, of course. but then again, you always said yes. it’s almost pathetic how weak you are for him.

“hey gorgeous~” the door opens almost instantly and you’re greeted by a blue eyes with a bright smile. his hair is down and he’s in a tank top, exposing his surprisingly muscular arms. his sleeper build is one of the things that has you so whipped. you smile back at him and hug him, his arms going to squeeze your waist. after a few seconds you release yourself from his hold and make your way to his bed as if his place is practically yours.

he finds his way next to you and watches as you immediately go to scroll on your phone. however, he seems…off. usually, he’d be more touchy. or, he’d also be on his phone or be on the game. he’s just watching you this time, as if he’s contemplating something. you finally look at him, cocking your eyebrow.

“may i help you, sir?”

he laughs, almost as if he was embarrassed (which he kinda was— he didn’t notice he was staring). “nothing, just thinkin’.” you softly laugh in return, going back to your phone. “about what?” you mindlessly asks. he takes a second to pause, then you hear him take a deep breath.

“i want you to be my girlfriend.”

now, it’s your turn to pause. you’re stuck in place as your brain tries to process what he just said. gojo, “mr. bitches”, satoru just asked to cuff you. you have to be dreaming.

“what?” is all you can say. he sits up, and looks directly at you. “y/n, i wanna make you mine.” you struggle to make eye contact with him, at a loss for words. “i know we’ve been talking for some months and i just…i really really like you— a lot. i can’t stop thinking about you and i can’t see myself with anybody but you. i want you- fuck it, i need you in my life so bad. you’re everything i look for.”

your face heats up as he’s sitting there, confessing his feelings for you. you finally get the courage to speak. “i really like you too, satoru. and honestly, i been waiting for you to ask this for so long. i know it seems stupid, but i just… i don’t wanna see you with anybody else. and sometimes i just-” you cut yourself off, not wanting to ruin the moment. his face softens and he grabs your hands. “what? you can tell me anything, gorgeous, i swear.”

“…do you really mean this? i don’t wanna just be…i don’t how to say this… another one.” you finally let it out your chest, and he looks down at your hands. then, he lifts you up and has you straddling him on his lap as he makes direct eye contact with you. “baby, i swear there is nobody else i could want but you. i don’t care about those other hoes or anybody else, they got nothing on you..”

his eyes fall to your lips, and he takes another breath. “i love you, y/n, and i just wanna be able to call you my girl.” your heart is beating rapidly by now, and you wrap your arms around his neck. “i love you too, i’m yours.”

you both lean in and close the space between you two. your lips collide with his, slowly moving in rhythm with each other. his hands squeeze your thighs, then he holds your waist and begins to take control. he flips you over, and his lips quickly find their way to your neck. you let out a small whine as he sucks on the skin, eagerly making his mark on you. he kisses and bites all over “mine…all mine…” he breathes into your neck.

instinctively, your legs spread and he subconsciously grinds against you. this earns a moan escaping your lips, and he pulls away. “you want to?” he asks. you frantically nod, but this time he really wants to keep things romantic. you’re his girlfriend now, he wants to prioritize making you feel loved over wanting to get off. “you sure? i wanna hear you say it, love.” you look at him with needy eyes, ones that cause an erection to start to grow in his pants. “please.”

“say no more, baby.” he dives back into your lips, hands tugging at your bottoms. he pulls them down and plays with the hem of your underwear, still keeping a steady rhythm as he kisses you.

your hand goes to unzip his pants. as you try to pull them down, he stops you. usually, you’re first to go down on him, but he wants this time to be different. “let me take care of you, i got it.” he says with a sweet, loving smile on his face as he pulls away. then he slides his finger through your clothed slit, already feeling how wet you are. you hum as he teases you, getting you all worked up for him. his thumb slowly finds your clit. “that’s it baby, relax…” he rubs you through your underwear and you moan again, squirming under his touch. another reason you’re so whipped for him: he always knows how to make you feel good.

“toru..please…” you whine, looking down at his hands. “well can you look at me first, baby?” he teases, and you can hear the smirk on his face before you even look up at him. then, he slides his hand in your underwear and toys with your clit, sticky with your arousal. “mhm…good girl~” he cooes as you moan out for him. your eyes threaten to close as pleasure swirls all through your stomach, still aching for more. just as that feeling arises, he dips his ring finger into your pulsing hole and your eyes roll back.

satoru watches your every move as you writhe under him, adding another finger as your slicks begins to spill out and making you squirm even more. then, he pulls them out and brings them to his mouth. he licks them clean, watching in satisfaction as you look to him for more. without a word, he leans down to your soaking heat. all while keeping eye contact, he kisses your clit.

you gasp, and he takes no time sucking on the sensitive bud. “f-fuck~” you moan, gripping onto his hair with your hand. he hums as your freshly manicured nails dig into his scalp while he works you with his mouth. you sing out for him as he laps your pussy with his tongue, running it through your folds and dipping into your hole. “baby, i’m c-close…” you cry. he only moves his tongue faster, drawing harsh circles on your clit. finally, you let you on his tongue with a long, strung out moan. your legs shake and your grips tightens on your hair as you cum, him slowly sucking on your clit through your orgasm.

he lifts off with a pop! then kicks off his pants and boxers, his fully erect dick springing out as he climbs on top of you. he strokes himself, kissing your lips and giving you a taste of your own arousal. “you ready, princess?” he breathes out, and you hum in response, lifting up your legs.

he lines himself up with your entrance, and easily slides in due to your previous orgasm. you both moan in sync, him burying his face in your neck. he pumps into you at a slow pace, each thrust deeper than the one before. he finally bottoms out and your eyes roll back in ecstasy as you moan out in pure bliss.

“fuck baby, you tight as fuck…” he rasps as your walls clench him as he moves in and out of you. he kisses you, then looks into your eyes as he makes love to you. “my pretty baby, always so good for me.” his thrusts slowly begin to quicken and your mouth falls open. “yeah, you like that?”

you hum in response, turning your head and burying it into the pillow as your hand grips his arm. “fuck s- mmm- s’ good…” he smirks as he rolls his hips, fucking into you even deeper and reaching for the spot that’ll have you melting. you whine as he fucks you, sending pleasure all through your warmth to your legs and stomach. “i know baby, ah shit- you love this dick don’t you?” he says as he leans down to your ear. “mhm~” you respond instantly, slick dripping out of your cunt. “mhm…so fucking wet for me.”

“yeah.. who’s pussy is this? huh?” your walls clench from the question and you’re barely able to answer” “y- fuck! yours…it’s all yours~”

“yeah this my pussy, all mine.” his words send chills down your spine, putting you in a trance as your orgasm builds up in your stomach. then, he pulls out, immediately picking you up and placing you on his lap. he finds your entrance, and positions you above his dick. you slowly slide down all the way on him.

“fuuuuck, just like that…” he moans, feeling your soaked walls tightening around him again. you eagerly bounce on his dick, moaning loudly from how you can feel every inch of him. he then places his hands on your ass, setting a pace for you and guiding you. “cmon ride me baby, just like that..such a good girl for me, yeah?” you can only moan in response, drowning in pleasure as a familiar knot builds up inside you. “‘m gonna cum…” you cry out.

he snaps his hips up inside you, causing you to nearly scream as he repeatedly slams his dick info your g-spot. you moan out his name and a smile is plastered across this face. “go ahead, cum for me baby. cum all over this dick.” and you do just that, creaming all on him as you bury your head into his neck, moaning his name and several curses.

he turns you back over, still buried inside you as he begins plunging into you. his hand presses one of your legs against your chest as you cry and moan from the overstimulation. “fuck baby i love you…love you so much~” he moans as he chases his own high. finally, he lets out a loud moan as he pulls out, cumming all over your stomach.

you both catch your breath, and he manages to lift himself off you. after finding a towel and cleaning himself off, he crashes onto his bed and pulls you on top of him.

“i’m yours.” he says, sweetly kisses your forehead. he squeezes you tight as if you were gonna fly out of him arms, and you smile into his chest. “i love you, baby.”

“i love you too, toru.” and just like that, you were finally his.

@ rumisgf

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x black reader smut #gojo smut #jjk satoru #jjk smut #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk x black reader #jjk x black y/n #black reader smut #getou suguru #satoru !!

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argisthebulwark · 10 months

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Severed Ties Part Two: Why You Came Back

summary: Time heals all wounds and somehow, you will find your way back to each other. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. Part One: Why You Left feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Erandur, Teldryn, Vilkas, Farkas, Rune, Arnbjorn warnings: none, bit longer than usual.

Between all your duties and missing Brynjolf, it took time to find a comfortable rhythm. There was no escaping each other even after you put an end to your romantic involvement, only breaks coming in the form of jobs halfway across Skyrim. Through everything you worked together to get the Guild back on its feet. You entrusted Brynjolf solely with its care when Nocturnal came calling, reminding you that the Skeleton Key’s rightful place was in her temple. The Twilight Sepulcher drained your body and soul. Exhaustion sapped at your strength when you shuffled out, unsure how you were going to get back to the inn. Riften was another beast entirely. Chilly fingers shook at the prospect of your bed being so far away, ready to risk it all for a short nap in the forest. Brynjolf was planted a few paces away, hood thrown back and worry in his eyes. Your heart stopped at the sight. You’d never seen him so far from Riften. He took one cautious step as if you were a wounded animal, like you'd bolt if he came too close. Collapsing into his arms felt like home. Strong arms carried you when your muscles failed, tears springing into your eyes when he tucked you safely into his chest. You gulped back the words you hadn’t said in ages when he buried his nose in his hair, turning to carry you home. He'd left all duties behind to be there for you when you needed him most. “I promise, love. Nothing’s gettin’ in the way of you and I again. Sorry it took me so long.”

Tales of Miraak’s reign of terror over Solstheim slowed, the island calming and hesitantly returning to its normal life. It had been years since you’d left Apocrypha and you could only hope that he’d found the answers he’d wanted so badly or at least some form of peace. The last memory of him still pained you but you’d never forget it - robes wrinkled where he crouched over the ancient desk, eyes wild and fingers stained with dark ink. Being back on Nirn was a blessing and a curse. You had settled quite easily into your life but there was a constant nagging need to hear every rumor about him, to keep up to date on what he was doing. Your home was comfortable but quiet, interrupted by a harsh knock on your door. Seeing him again stopped your heart. His eyes were wide, blessedly free from the mania you’d come to know. The mask and gloves were gone, robes traded for simple armor. There he stood, the man who had forgotten you suddenly standing on your doorstep, that lovely voice saying words you’d craved to hear. “I gave it all up. I gave up everything to stand here and ask you for another chance and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, My Dragon.”

You didn’t recognize him in such normal, simple clothes. Erandur, who lived in robes befitting a priest and Mara’s regalia, took the empty seat across from you in the tavern. His fingers quivered when he offered you a hand, hope bright in his eyes when he introduced himself. “I had to come over here, I couldn’t stop staring. You’re stunning.” His attempt to sound nonchalant sent a nervous giggle bubbling out of you. “Can we put the past behind us and start over?” “Start over?” You didn’t release his hand and he didn't pull away, heart swelling when you saw his smile. All else was forgotten when you felt Erandur’s tattooed fingers climbing up your wrist. “I am just a man who very badly wants to kiss someone he saw across the crowded tavern. Nothing more.”

A compromise. That’s what he’d proposed. Teldryn sat at your table, eyes sparkling when he took in the house you’d built. It was far from the bustling cities, trees insulating you from the noise of nearby farms. After parting from Teldryn it had become a safe haven from the rest of the world. You’d never admit that building it with your own hands was fueled mostly by spite. He’d come with apologies and offers mingled together in a practiced speech. Some time at home, some on the road, all of it spent together. It was unsettling how easily you trusted him again after all the time spent apart. His helmet rested on the table when Teldryn met your eyes and for the first time he looked unsure of what to say. His mouth opened, closing again and you caught a glimpse of that annoyed furrow between his brows you’d missed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to settle down in one place, but I could get used to this slow life with you. For a while.”

Loving Vilkas was easy, you’d never truly stopped. Learning to be gentle with one another was difficult. You struggled to learn how to look past your relationship and see Vilkas as more than your partner, acknowledging his role in the Companions. He worked on seeing you as more than his Harbinger, viewing you as his partner once again. It was a slow process - taking breaks and setting boundaries, but he was worth it. During the day you worked, creating healthier avenues for conversation. At night you were partners, nothing more. No work talk was allowed between dinner and breakfast. In those evenings you found one another again, softening and loving each other as you had so long ago. “Remind me, Harbinger. Am I permitted to kiss you during working hours? Are we allowed to sit this close, or are you worried I’ll distract you?”

Breezehome had been yours before Farkas entered your life. It was your refuge during the evenings when you couldn’t bear Jorrvaskr’s halls or the memories they held. A cool breeze whipped through your hair when you walked home, masking his footsteps until he appeared at your side. Neither one of you said a word when he took your hand, falling in step with you and allowing you to guide him to your doorstep. It didn’t happen all at once. Rather, it was small changes that slowly altered your life. It took work for Farkas to summon the confidence to live for himself, extracting his sense of self worth from the Companions. You reminded him that it was a balance, leaving wasn’t permanent. Dinners were often spent in Jorrvaskr before retreating to the peace of your home. “I didn’t think I was anything more than a fighter. Didn’t think anyone would want me to be more.”

Each day felt like a new opportunity for growth. You watched Rune from a distance hoping that he would make peace with his past. You didn’t want him to give up but it was too painful to love someone who lived entirely in the mysteries of what could have been, as if you were only allowed to love part of him. Luckily, Delvin and Vex had an endless catalogue of tasks that no one else wanted to complete. Jobs in other holds, jewelry to be stolen in Whiterun and planted on some poor sap in Solitude, the occasional trip to confer with the Dark Brotherhood. All the travel was good for your mind, allowing you time to think through everything far from him. Falling into your cot you stared up at the Cistern’s ceiling. Watery light from the early morning sun reminded you that you’d stayed up all night again. It had been difficult to sleep with Rune cramped into your tiny bed but without him the space felt too empty. His footsteps were silent when he knelt beside your bed, his warm hand on your shoulder the only warning that he was there. “I’ll never give up, not entirely. But it isn’t worth losing you over. Just give me some time, please don’t forget about me.”

Arnbjorn consumed your every thought. Despite your best efforts to appear cool and indifferent you couldn’t take another moment. It was fairly easy to avoid him during the day, but every evening you struggled to not look at him through dinner. After all the others had left in search of bed or prepping for their assignment you found yourself alone with him, a few drinks deep and blood heating under the weight of his gaze. Too drunk to be embarrassed by the stumbling way you explained how badly you wanted to be loved by him again, how deeply you wanted him to love you. You didn’t want to be a replacement for the love he’d lost. Cheeks burning and tears spilling you gasped out the least graceful declaration of love and how much you missed him. Your name on his lips had never sounded better. Soothing kisses and careful hands sufficed when words failed. You knew he wasn’t comfortable vocalizing softer emotions. Arnbjorn’s lips were on your forehead, fists balled into his armor when you dragged him closer. “Just need you to trust me, okay? It’s only you. My past is my past, no changin’ it. I just need some time but I promise it’s only you.”

#skyrim #skyrim fanfic #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #writing #brynjolf #miraak #erandur #teldryn sero #vilkas #farkas #rune skyrim #arnbjorn

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riabef · 1 year

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✎. I regret you all the time VARIOUS X READER

SUMMARY: Have you ever wanted to have your heart broken in less than 10 000 words? I have a solution for you, read this fic. In which, the reader breaks up with the respective male characters. (These actions done by the characters are not made by any means to sway you into not liking them, this is made for the fact that is… breakup… scenarios)

FEATURING CAST: Al Haitham, Cyno, Tighnari, and reader ^^

PRONOUNS: gender neutral, used second perspective, “You” when writing (please inform me if there’s a mistake)

WORD COUNT: 7322 words

WARNINGS: angst! Mentions of breaking up, very… uhh… emotional moments ? Tighnari’s has some self doubt, Al haitham is a little bit of a jerk here. lowkey toxic relationships (?) I was more focused on the break-up part. Fluff to angst!

PROOF-READ: nope! the only witness to this fic is me and this spider that’s been hanging on my wall for the past 30 minutes

AUTHOR NOTES: i love making Angst but first and foremost I love making it everyone else’s problem, I spent more time formatting and tagging this than I did writing it

yes I still don’t know how to center text…. yeah…. also I genuinely do not remember half of what I just wrote so if there’s any grammar errors uh…. Good luck (?)

Alhaitham

Even in darkness I can see the colours shine bright

Yellow, red and blue calling out your name

From the bottom of my heart, it’s so relentless

The love I had for you is trying to break its way free

YUURI. DRIED FLOWERS

“Be careful of Alhaitham”, “Stay safe”, “I don’t like that guy”, are all phrases you’ve heard about the man, more correctly dubbed as your lover. A man who purely operates on rationality, one who finds it far more easier to put a value to things before emotional value. A relationship with AlHaitham requires more than patience, it requires a security in yourself, confidence, and even more patience.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is harder than falling in love with most, love indeed does have its own trials; yet falling in love with Alhaitham is on another level. For a man so deeply unchanging in rationality, he never expected to fall in love, much less, pursue a relationship with someone. This was drastically different from the life he had planned, the caution all thrown away to the wind as he eagerly counts down the minutes until he can see you again.

For a man so rational, he does have his own round-about way of saying “I love you” in the strangest ways ever, but you couldn’t deny that he made you feel as flustered as the day you met, his traits never seeming to bore you, and someone who always loves to keep you on your toes; that is the kind of lover Alhaitham is.

It is very rarely that he will voice the words, but just from his actions you can feel it, you feel it in the scented candles he gives you when he remembers your favourite scent, you feel it in the extra annotations he leaves in your notes when you’re particularly stressed, and you feel it in the way his presence is a never-changing constant, a lighthouse signalling the way home for sailors in the night.

“I have something for you,” He gives you a box, and you can only assume it’s from your favourite bakery again, and you sigh.

“Let me guess, you just so ‘happened to be in the area’ despite it being a 20 minute walk from here, and you just so ‘happened to notice that I was working in the library long enough for a break’ and it also ‘coincidentally appears to be your break-time’?”

“Good, you already know, I don’t need to repeat myself again.” Insufferable jerk.

He takes a seat across from you, taking notice of the textbooks you were working on, storing their titles in his mind, perhaps he’s able to assist you this time–

“You wrote that wrong.”

“Why do I even love you again?”

“I wonder that as well.”

He may be an insufferable jerk, but he’s your insufferable jerk.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is akin to a stormy night on the seas, the waves crashing against the sides of the ship, threatening to drown any of those who come unprepared; the seas that show no mercy, all that comes must take proper precautions rather than wish on the stars for their hopes to be achieved. That, is a better description of Alhaitham. He is a man incredibly fond of routines, although he understands that it’s not meant for everyone, but he does as his schedule allows. Fortunately for you, his schedule always allows for him to spend time with you, pleasant or not.

His fondness for you, as he likes to put it, is expressed, you know it in the way he stays up late with you on rare occasions, looking over your papers. Or when he would ensure that your research involves the proper safety precautions, or when he double checks your itinerary to make sure that everything matches up to his standards.

Although, just because he loves you doesn’t mean that he’s not going to forget what he’s known his whole life, his rationality. It’s not at all easy to discuss his feelings either, unwanted presences making itself known in his usually clear mind aren’t usually what he faced before he met you. Now, it’s as if it’s what he felt everyday.

He’s not the best communicator, he either bottles everything up, or he tends to say it too straightforward that it hurts even you.

“Alhaitham, I understand–”

“No, do you? If you understood then you wouldn’t be doing something as reckless as this.” He looked at you in disapproval, you felt yourself humiliated by his unwavering glare; feeling as though he’s seen through your actions.

In front of him you felt like a child.

A child incapable of being with someone of his calibre, surely he deserves someone much better; someone more capable than you clearly are, if you were just a bit more capable, you wouldn’t be watching as he tightens the splint on your currently broken leg. You wince at the pain, only registering it now, you were far more pained by his disappointment in you than the physical pain you felt.

The more he tended to your leg as best as he could, the more incapable you felt, despite being the lover of the Scribe, you felt so insufficient to be beside him.

In your mind, with every incident you get into, it only adds more to the list of why he may hate you. Perhaps he did hate you after all, even you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

It’s no secret that he does try, although he’s so focused on other aspects that you fail to notice that you can’t help but feel a little bit more surprised when he does reveal his true intentions towards you. If it was already hard enough for anyone else to befriend Alhaitham, it’s even harder to be his lover, in the face of what he believes is rational, you may find it rather off-putting.

Although, you cannot deny the hurt you feel everytime you feel that he’s brushed off your feelings in favour of something that makes sense to him, the sense of familiarity makes its unwelcome entrance in disagreements between the two, as he sighs as though he’s dealing with a minor inconvenience rather than his lover.

You loved him, you truly do. There’s just, circumstances where it’s better to know the other as a memory rather than a constant in your life, the one you wake up to everyday.

You wished that you could’ve worked out, you really did.

“You’ve injured yourself multiple times attempting to perform, and everyone in the Akademiya looks down on your association with the arts.” He says, as he grabs the first aid kit again, after you came home limping with a sprained ankle.

He pauses, as if wondering whether to say reassurances, before he figures that you already know of his worries about you. Although you didn’t.

“And what, are you disappointed in me too? Just like–”

“Yes, I’m disappointed in you. It’s so incredibly obvious that it was dangerous, yet you went anyways, I expected you to know better.”

Biting back your tears you couldn’t help but feel helpless to the frustration that was welling up, “You wouldn’t know, I would give up everything for the arts. I don’t care about what I have to give up, as long as it’s what remains.”

Perhaps it was the amount of frustration that had gotten to you, or was it the pain of you injury? You couldn’t tell as you practically spat the words, “I would give up even you.”

You watch as his eyes widened infinitesimally, trying to take time to process what you had just said, before he wordlessly got up from his kneeling position to tend to your injuries to walk out the door.

You’re left to wallow in the weight of the words you just said, sitting there motionless on the kitchen counter.

It’s not often that you two get into disagreements, with him being so resolute and unchanging in his ways, it was only evident that you two would get into fights, or disagreements about what the other said. To take time away from the argument, either one of you would usually storm out of the house to take a walk, but you always reunited with each other.

Be it awkward apologies for each other’s actions, or simply staying in each other’s presence after having reflected on the argument, it was always enough.

Although as you sat there you had come to an epiphany.

You had plopped yourself down on the bed, remembering the argument from earlier, the words you said, and the words you wished you didn’t. If anything, it would be the opposite, you’d be willing to sacrifice the arts if it meant you could keep your lover happy, you’d be willing to tear yourself to shreds if that was what would bring him joy.

Yet it seems like you always did the opposite of that. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him feel happy because of you, and you were the cause of his distress. A lover should be someone who makes you feel right at home, not someone you argue with on a daily basis.

Hugging the pillows, the cold doing little to comfort you. The storm ravaged the boats, bringing it to destruction, the unrelenting storm destroying anything it could.

Just because you two had always found your way back to each other, doesn’t mean that it was necessarily healthy, you could feel the words you said, and his actions weighing down on you, like endless regrets attempting to swallow you whole. It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see you and your lover ignoring each other, or at least go on breaks every so often.

So it was not an unexpected sight to see you and your lover clearly ignoring the other. Except it continued. It was common for you and your lover to have disagreements that woud last about a week, yet this recent argument showed no signs of stopping.

Unregistered feelings kept building up and showed no signs of stopping, Alhaitham notes. Ever since your most recent disagreement, he can’t find it in himself to move past what you said. If he were to admit it fully, without any room for a facade, or any room for any egos to make a big deal; maybe you would’ve known that your words haunted him day in and day out. Every time he’s about to make a turn on the way home, he hesitates before he decides, “one more day.”

Eventually that had extended so long, he just couldn’t figure out how to begin even talking to you.

It’s been a week, 3 days, 7 hours, and 23 minutes since he’s last had that argument with you. That should be enough time for him to recover, it’s petty of him to ignore you for an argument, even if he did feel hurt by your words.

Finding his resolve, he walks, the familiar way to your home, about to turn onto your street before flashes of that moment appear in his mind, he can’t ever forget what you said. If he was any less than he is now, he would’ve accused you of putting him under a spell, memories flash in his eyes as he remembers the way unshed tears were present in your eyes, he can tell just how tiring it was to be with someone like him from the numerous times you had hidden your future artistic plans from him, the way you had hidden future research topics from him.

Of course he’d know, he had just chosen to ignore them to grant you some sense of stability. Even someone like him, understood that this relationship was closely approaching its ending.

Good thing he never believed in fairytales.

It takes a long while for you two to speak to each other, even longer for you to discreetly move his things back to his own home that he still shared with Kaveh, the latter helping you as well. Despite that, nothing escapes his sights, he’s not clueless, he’s far from that. He’s noticed long before you had hoped he would.

He doesn’t know what hurts more, how lowly you had thought of him, or how you were actively reaching out to his roommate rather than him.

It’s been four weeks from the argument when he sees you, it was difficult since it was obvious that you were clearly ignoring him, not wishing to spend any more time in his presence; contrasted to the love he thought you held for him.

Was it so easy to fall out of love with someone?

You finally catch notice of him, you almost spin around from how startled you were, you paused in your movements of handing over some mementos of Alhaitham that he left at your house, every time you looked away, you could’ve sworn there was more items from him than there was from you.

Kaveh, thankfully sensing the mood, returns the box in your arms before he announces his impromptu walk.

In that moment, Alhaitham’s never felt so grateful to Kaveh, seems like the man did have a brain after all.

“I believe we do have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” You start the conversation, lacking the patience to draw this out any longer.

Words, for once, fail him, as he nods, gesturing for you to enter his home.

He was never a verbally expressive man, preferring to speak the bare minimum, speak only what he needs to, and express it eloquently. He was never one for idle talk, yet that’s all he could hope for when he sees your figure taking a seat on his couch. You’re just across him, almost within arm’s reach yet he felt as though you were far away.

“I…” you begin, thinking of a better way of expressing yourself, “I apologize for what you’ve said, I know I won’t be forgiven, but I’d like to apologize regardless. It wasn’t very appropriate of me to treat you like that, especially since you are my lover. Once again, I don’t expect your forgiveness, nor do I expect a sudden change of heart from you.”

“Thank you. I also think there’s many overdue apologies that I need to make as well.”

You two revel in the silence of the room.

The silence disturbed him, it was unsettling, normally he would’ve welcomed it, yet it only felt foreboding now.

“Although there’s one other thing I would like to say,” you wait for his approval before you continue, “I just don’t think this is working out anymore, it’s clear that this relationship only serves to harm us. I don’t think it’d be best if we continued as romantic partners.”

For someone dubbed as the lunatic of the Akademiya, he seems to have deserved the title as he ignores your wistful stares at him, the way you would almost reach out to call for him like you always had. He would pretend to not know that you kept re-reading the textbooks he’d give you notes on, reminiscing on your relationship.

You wouldn’t know either, the fact that he never touched anything that you returned to his home after that breakup. The way that they were so carefully stored away, yet never left to see the light of day again. The remnants of your relationship that he can’t bring himself to erase. The memories of you that he was all to eager to forget.

It’s been a while he’s seen you, and for a moment he doesn’t think he could even forget about you, it simply wasn’t even an option. But he’s never seen you happier.

It’s almost unheard of, to see a scholar and an artist thriving as one and the same, the way you had practically radiated in happiness as you perform. The perfect and elegantly trained movements he remembered seeing you stumble and struggle with, and once again, the fond memories come crashing back, like waves lapping at the sand. And for a moment, he’s entranced in what you’ve become, so entranced that he almost reached out to your hand, so entranced that he almost stayed for your whole performance, and so entranced that he almost confessed. I still love you.

Although, like everything with you, it ends up in a hilariously futile attempt as he returns the way he came.

Cyno

I can’t save us, my Atlantis, we fall

We built this town on shaky ground

I can’t save us, my Atlantis, oh, no

We built it up to pull it down

SEAFRET. ATLANTIS.

A relationship with Cyno entails a lot of things, most of which require patience. The closer you are to fire, the more it burns and that is how you would describe your relationship with Cyno. The fire that once burnt so brightly, built on the fuels of your love and adoration for each other slowly dimmed until all you could do was blow it out.

There were mementos of your love for each other, hidden notes tucked in his papers for him to discover; love hidden in the baths you’d prepare for him when he’d get home, and love prepared for you when he would prepare your favourite foods after stressful days. The fire burnt vibrantly, its heat a testament for the love you shared.

Patience, patience, patience, it was required every step of the way, a man who’s been enshrouded in a world of black and white struggles to comprehend the shades of gray you brought to his world; and you struggle to adjust to a man so steadfast in his beliefs

Although, patience that rivals a saint’s still runs out like grains in an hourglass, people are only people, and so eventually there was only so much you could take before it all started to crack. Cracks in the foundations of your relationship, the love, and admiration for each other simply wasn’t enough to sustain you. It never was.

It’s all become too familiar, to be greeted by an empty bed, the curtains billowing in the night’s breeze. It had become a routine of sorts, to arrive at your house; never to greet your lover. You’d be lying if you didn’t say that you had missed the times when your love for each other was enough. Yet another note lies on the dinner table of Cyno’s sincere apologies that regretted not being able to spend enough time with you.

Somehow, his sincere words left an awfully bitter taste in your mouth.

Understanding can only go to a certain extent, and you prepare to spend another evening alone. You supposed you even missed his jokes, empty words hanging in the air, and the love that once filled the home with a welcoming presence seemed to have dissipated.

Even being greeted by a cold bed was of no surprise to you, the lack of warmth fills you with more thoughts of your lover; was he okay? Was he at least safe? And selfishly, was he thinking of you?

Midnight falls, and you blow the candles out.

It was no surprise, when the relationship started to crumble, slowly and unnoticed by both of you. Putting on a facade despite the yearning for certain words to be said,

When was the last time you heard him say “I love you?”

Empty promises, and empty seats, it was not a strange sight to see you sitting at a reservation, waiting for your lover; although a pitiful sight, those who saw ignored you. Perhaps it was an attempt to restore your dignity, even though the walks back home felt even worse.

You wanted to laugh.

Would it have been strange if you laughed in a street, well past sunset? You would assume so.

Expectations, and far more useless promises; promises of making it up again, promises of being able to do this again at another time. Especially the promise that you could fix what you had together.

The more it happened, the more you noticed the cracks in the relationship, and oddly, how it started to become far beyond your capacity to fix. You loved him, but at that moment in time, you hated him. For the briefest of seconds, you felt the utter resentment build in your heart and swell until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. The love that you could’ve sworn was that all you two needed, wasn’t enough.

The frustrations of giddy flashes of adoration, the nervousness of looking good enough to render your lover stunned, and the expected downfall of it all. The walks home, full of resentment, and embarrassment for having yet another no-show.

That doesn’t mean Cyno wasn’t trying though, he had tried. That was all he did, if you ever wanted answers to any of those questions you asked yourself late at night you would’ve gotten your answers. Yes, he was okay, yes he was safe, and he thought of you every second of his day. Even doing the most mundane of tasks would bring his mind back to you, like a sailor finding solace in a lighthouse on a stormy night.

He thought of you every second that he was given the luxury to think; even if he was in the middle of battle, he would look to the stars and hope that what he was doing was keeping you safe.

For every crack that appeared in your heart, he was there to mend it right away, for every walk of resentment you had, he was there at home, there to soothe your sorrows and mend your heart anew. For every minor disagreement, he would apologize for disregarding your words and leave you feeling the happiest you’ve ever been

He sees you before he hears you. Sitting at the front steps of your shared home, hugging your knees, clothes slightly dry with the new addition of your tears. Whatever he was taught to do, or if he was ever taught to feel shame, he threw it all to the wind as he started comforting you.

His gentle voice, and painful regrets swirling in his soul reflected in his eyes. Nothing ever felt as reassuring as the hug he gave you, and the small kisses on your hands.

For once, his love wasn’t in notes or in the meals he prepared for you, and it consumed you. The flickers of embers in the candles that day slowly relit themselves into a warming fire. You gladly accepted his affections because you were far too scared to figure out how it’d feel without it. It was a question you didn’t want to find the answer to (you hoped to any archon listening that you wouldn’t).

The gradual change of seasons came with more duties, more love to miss, and more love that you wished for. The love that you craved. All you wanted, was to have him back in your arms again, or the lover that you knew that liked ranting to you about TCG invocation, The man that you thought you fell in love with.

It started as a yearning, a yearning for his presence, and a yearning for his comfort on the nights you awoke in a cold sweat. Then it snowballed into a yearning for him, the sorrow that was felt too often became hard to be swallowed, and emptiness in your days.

It came as no surprise when you eventually broke down in tears on one of the days he was at home with you, savouring whatever you had left.

“I…” you started your sentence, hesitating and both trying not to choke on your tears, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

The noise of rain hitting the ground seemed to grow louder in that moment, “I think we need to end this.”

“My love, we should talk about this some more hm? You are right, I can’t be away from home all the time and–”

“I don’t think we can fix this Cyno.”

A moment of silence occurs, and his hand hovers over yours, as if contemplating whether or not touching you would destroy everything you had together.

“Are you sure? Maybe if we talked a bit more we could—“ he pauses, fully taking in your pained expression, “maybe I can fix this, it’s my fault after all.”

The room is silent.

“I beg of you, please let me fix everything one more time, maybe we can go down to the port together, you’ve always wanted to go there. Or maybe if you don’t like that we can go to the forest together like you had suggested for our first anniversary…”

There’s no response from you, and he understood in that moment, that he lost you.

That day, the candles were extinguished, the smoke hanging in the air, and the ashes were all that remained.

It wasn’t easy getting over you and Cyno’s breakup, especially since your former lover had been present in almost every aspect of your life, it was difficult trying to get over him, every night as you cried yourself to sleep all you could think about was him. The way that he told you the worst jokes you’ve ever heard, or the way he wouldn’t hesitate in assisting you in any way he could.

Despite the relationship having been ended, it wasn’t rare for others to see you steal glances at each other, the looks that you’d pretend to be less the wiser of. It wasn’t something that you would’ve blamed him for regardless, for a relationship that had bonds deeper than just love; it was understandable why the both of you couldn’t seem to move on

“You’ve looked at him eleven times in the past five minutes, are you sure you’re really okay?”

You’re snapped back to reality as you’re greeted by the worried face of one of your friends, someone you’ve always been on good terms with, sighing as you remember that life decides to go on despite the crushing feeling present in your chest. “I think so…?”

It wasn’t even fair, you were the one who had broken things off so lamentably, yet you were also the one who missed him. It felt like you were the only one who had missed the others, if anything, rumour has it that the General Mahamatra has been working far more efficiently than he used to. Yet you were still stuck here, rooted to the ground still trying to process the loss of the other.

Of course it wasn’t easy for him as well, the nights he spent wondering about your safety, changed to restless nights he’d contemplate the entire relationship. Eager to forget the pain that now suffocated him day in and day out, he drowned himself in his work, not allowing for a second for his mind to drift to you. It was all he could do to keep himself sane.

The nights were the ones he hated the most, unable to focus his mind on anything else, he was completely and wholly plagued by thoughts of you, losing the ability to forget.

Tossing and turning in the bedsheets that still smelt like you, getting up in the morning, pouring you a glass of water only to remember once the glass was full. He still wears the scarf you knit him when it’s cold, he still keeps the dried flowers you sneaked into his papers, he still has photos of you two together on the walls, he still has your photo in his wallet, and he still loves you.

You wouldn’t be the only one who would sneak glances at your former lover, maybe if you let your gaze linger for just a bit longer, you’d see the way his eyes would always land on you. In some way, he hated it. He hated the way that he was reduced to nothing but a desperate lover who searched for you.

In every crowd, in every festival, in every gathering, his eyes would always wander, searching for a familiar figure, hoping yet dreading the notion of seeing you again.

He watches you, the way that you kept trying to take another glance at him, hoping that it was all the closure that you needed. Unable to tear his gaze off of you willingly, he beats himself up, archons know how many times he did that ever since your breakup.

You notice him catching onto your glances, and out of old habits, you almost felt his name exit your mouth. Luckily you were able to catch yourself, and settled with looking intensely at the book you had in your hands, “Did you need something, General Mahamatra?”

At the name, he almost flinched, unused to the uncaring tone that you had taken. He promptly considered what it’d be like if he could spend time with you rather than imagining worlds where you still belonged to each other. Without even a nod of acknowledgment, he turns around and went back the way he came.

The ashes dance around in the air, and flickers of what once was, rush to your mind as you continue, to no avail, of trying to read the same sentence over and over again.

After that day, you only saw him in your dreams.

Tighnari

But I always thought you’d come back,

Tell me, all you found was

Heart break and misery

It’s hard for me to say, I’m jealous of the way

You’re happy without me

LABRINTH. JEALOUS.

Falling in love with Tighnari was frighteningly too easy, maybe it's because everything about him was just so easy to fall in love with, from his sass to the calming reassurances that he’d offer to struggling students.

Falling in love with him was like a marigold growing within the crevices of your heart, the steady growth of the flower pulled you deeper into your affection for him. The archons finally granted all the wishes you could’ve attained, in the form of your lover. The answers to all your wishes, all your wants, all you could ever need, appeared in the form of a man named Tighnari.

Like sustaining a plant’s life with proper care, returning home to your lover had been the constant to your days, tea brewing in the air, and smiles exchanged in the silence of you ridding your coat.

“Hey, I knew you had a stressful day, do you want to talk about it? I even prepared your favourite tea for you.”

What a joke, just by seeing him, all your worries had dissipated away like it always had when you saw him. Grabbing the cup, full of gratitude, you place a quick kiss on his lips. “I’d love that, thank you so much.”

The marigolds that he planted in your heart grew blossomed wonderfully, the golden petals swaying in the gentle breeze, roots that have entangled deep within your heart, racing everytime you see your lover.

When Tighnari was with you, it was easier to do anything, with him, you found how easy it was to laugh, how easily he had allowed your smile to spread across your face. With him, it was easy to let all your worries become nothing but a faraway dream. In your heart, the marigolds that blossomed were taken care of by Tighnari, and take care of it he did.

It was easy to let the dwindling feelings slip away unnoticed, your lover was an amazing person, surely he was just stressed from all of the events that occurred at his work. It wasn’t exactly the most easiest job to keep people from danger in a forest, after all.

To love Tighnari, you truly adored him, it’s just that sometimes, things didn’t work out as planned. Time will tell, and it whispered in your ear; doubts of a long-lasting relationship, the pressure building on your back as you smiled off your pain once again to assure him that no, everything’s alright, you’re just tired.

“You know, your attention’s been lingering on the ground too much, I’m starting to wonder if there’s something wrong with it.” his back was turned to you, in favour of examining some mushrooms growing on the grass.

“Yeah, I think there’s something wrong with the ground because I could’ve sworn I scraped my knees falling for you.”

“You need to stop talking to Cyno so much, he’s starting to rub off on you,” he tuts, sighing deeply before he pretends to contemplate the reasons why he loves you.

He turned, and he was prepared to see your smile like he always had, like he always would. Yet this time, he only felt worry grow, and an undeniable sense of something wrong when instead, your expression reflected barely concealed pain.

You would hope he hadn’t noticed or that he at least ignored the fact that your heart didn’t beat as fast as it normally would when he walked into the room. Maybe then, it’d be easier to pretend that you were still just as madly in love with him as you once were, maybe this was just cold feet. Or maybe you seriously had to check out yourself for any commitment issues.

You had hoped, to every archon, that this was just a passing phase, maybe there was some external factor that you hadn’t noticed. Or maybe this was just a test, to persevere, after all, not all relationships require one to be happy at all times. The irrefutable fact remained, that your feelings for him dwindled by the day.

When most things occur, usually the feeling we turn to most would be denial, denial. You’ve denied any fact relating to the issue as much as you could, swearing over and over again that this wasn’t you falling out of love, this was just some plateau where your feelings had begun to adjust to staying committed to Tighnari.

Surely it wasn’t love that you were falling out of, it couldn’t be. Tighnari was the most amazing lover you’ve ever had, yet you could feel the marigolds begin to wilt, its petals adopting a duller shade of yellow in contrast to the stunning gold that seemed as though it was sown by the stars hung in the sky.

The moments you got alone, you’d contemplate, and maybe if you thought hard enough, your feelings for him would return. At least then, you wouldn’t have to pretend that you were just as in love with him as much as he was, so maybe then you wouldn’t have to deal with seeing his worried face after he notices the dwindling amounts of times you’d smile. As for your heartbeat… you could only hope that he was willing to ignore the fact that he no longer made you giddy like people usually do once they first fall in love.

Walking through the streets of Sumeru City with your lover running an errand, you felt relieved at the strange sense of peace the busy city had filled you. At least here, the silence of the forest wasn’t audible, and here, you could feel the pressure lifting off your back, dissipating at the busy streets, comforting you like he used to. You had always admired cities, seeing people from all walks of life gathered in one place granted you some semblance of comfort.

You no longer felt the heat rise in your cheeks when he’d call you by an endearing pet name of his, or when he’d do the smallest of gestures which always made you feel loved.

You had agreed, to be his forever, to be the only one he’d choose.

You hoped that your heart still had it to act out the part.

His hand eventually found his, a small smile returning to his face once he notices the shock he’s given you. You pray, desperately, that he couldn’t hear the normality of your heartbeat, or the way that you quickly avoided eye contact playing it off as being flustered.

“Let’s go back home.”

Tighnari was no idiot, he’s been the opposite of that actually. It was unmistakable, he used to struggle to hear your racing heart over his own; now, only his heart alone would race. Similar to you, he had hoped, even prayed to the dendro archon, that maybe this will just eventually pass, perhaps it was because he’s been too domestic lately.

Perhaps he should try Cyno’s advice to spice up the relationship.

He was at a loss for words, trying to figure out your heart as though it was some plant that had refused to grow; taking any advice he could get. Perhaps you’re just getting bored of the relationship, he does admit that it feels as though it’s similar to stagnated waters. It didn’t sit right with him to let his lover struggle alone, yet he also recognized the space that you had subtly asked for every time you directed your gaze to the floor.

Skimming through books he found on the subject, he had to stifle the ridiculous remarks he would’ve made if it wasn’t for your situation. Tighnari didn’t wish to devalue any advice that may help resolve this predicament, yet even he recognized how embarrassing these solutions might be.

11. Spend time apart.

Seemed to be the only one helping, he knew the sighs of relief, and how your hands had lost all tension in them when he left for an errand. Or when he gave you the space to think without the pressure of appeasing him.

The rest were laughable advice. Yet, there’s no explanation for how he started planning a date. A picnic under the cover of a tree near a flowing river; something you had always wanted to check off on your bucket list.

He was a determined and self-disciplined individual, yet that’s all nothing if he couldn’t ignite the love that you thought, began to run out.

While he was preparing for your impromptu date, you had begun to reminisce on important relationship milestones hoping that this little trip down memory lane would spark the feelings you were so desperately missing. Similar to how scholars of the Akademiya would spend hours pouring over texts and documents, you spent hours upon hours looking through the scrapbooks of your anniversary, of your birthday, of his, of the memorable moments you spent together.

You still remember the first time you held hands, the first date, the first kiss you shared, and many of the firsts of you two as a couple. You felt nothing but fondness as you had looked back on those wonderful memories, perhaps that was all you really needed, a reminder of why you fell for him in the first place. Maybe you had overthought it and it felt like a bigger issue than it should’ve been.

The days passed by and you found yourself being invited by Tighnari to a certain location beside a river, where the nilotpala lotuses grew in the water, surrounded by the serenity that only a forest could offer.

“And here we are,” Tighnari gestures for you to take a look at the scene before you, and your heart momentarily stops. There were little lanterns that lit up the night, the floating nilotpala lotuses blooming under the moon and stars radiating an ethereal glow; a blanket set aside on the floor with a picnic basket of what you could only assume was some small snacks considering the time. He felt pride at your amazement of the scene, a smile growing when you began to excitedly ask him where he got the time to decorate this as beautifully as he did.

Revelling in your returned admiration, he returned your questions with a quick kiss planted on your forehead, unsaid words exchanged in your minds, I did this for you. I did this for you so I could see your smile again, I missed it.

That night, you spent the comfort that you two desperately needed in each other’s arms, laughing about past mistakes, finding solace in each other about recent struggles. Of course, this resulted in him teasing you about it, “Did you really think I wouldn’t know? Goodness, I don’t know whether I should be disappointed or if I should laugh.”

You smiled once more as the magnolias in your heart began to wilt.

It was an irrefutable fact, that date was helpful yes, but. It had felt so wrong. The feelings you once felt about your relationship had returned tenfold, the uncaring guilt crushing you as the crevices in your heart grew wider. The deeply intertwined roots that you thought Tighnari had in your heart, seemed to have disappeared, slowly but surely.

There was no more room for denial or anger, the bargaining was surely far gone by now, you knew it in the way you stole glances at him when you woke up earlier. You understood what you needed to do when you couldn’t bring yourself to take a look at him when you felt his loving stare when you made him tea after a long day.

It wouldn’t be easy, but it was what needed to be done.

“We have to talk.” Your hands fumbled with the promise ring that he gave you, the seemingly small ring weighing more on you than you remembered it had. The dim lights of the living room helped conceal the distressed look on your face, the kind of expression a guilty criminal would make as they recounted their crimes.

He looked towards you, and within a moment, he understood. All he needed to see was the way the ring weighed down on you, the way that you couldnt begin to speak, the guilty expression you wore.

All he could do in that moment, was give you a pained smile, he spoke as though it would be his last words that you were hearing, “I know. Thank you for everything.” He watches as you kiss him for the last time, he supposes this will do as a goodbye kiss. The desperation catches in his throat as he pulls you in closer, for the last time before he lets you go.

Without much noise, you slip off your promise ring, leaving it on his bedside table before you exit the room.

It takes a long time for him to see you after that, if anything, he’s been intentionally avoiding you. Even stealing a glance at you would bring him unimaginable pain. Even though he can’t bear to think about you anymore he still desperately wishes for you, even though he can’t imagine to change out the coat hanger that’s made for two.

Not much has changed for him since you left, however you begun to find yourself, you surrounded yourself with the friends you loved and adored, and he couldn’t begin to hope for a better outcome with you.

Although he hoped that ending was with him.

His promise ring glints in the sun, shimmering with every slight movement, the sapphire glinting in his misery as he walks by, running another errand; preferably he would’ve had you do it in his place, although you… left.

While walking through the streets crowded of people, he can’t help but notice a familiar face in the crowd, the world stops as the first thing he notices about you is the happy look in your eyes; as though you’ve lived a million lives and you don’t regret a single one of them. Twisted feelings emerge in the shadows behind him as he tries to escape, although it’s futile since you cannot escape memories.

He knows it’s selfish, he knows it’s wrong, yet he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, that maybe you were feeling just as destroyed as he was, maybe you felt even more miserable.

And he guesses, it’s worse, to have seen you so happy while he remains rooted on the ground, still holding onto the magnolias of your heart.

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anartisicandautisticstararcher · 5 months

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Welp...it's time.

After working on this AU for 2 years, I'm happy to announce my upcoming Rewrite AU for My Hero Academia.

My Hero Academia: Rewritten Sparks

Mild Spoilers Ahead

*****

It follows the story of Izuku as he finds himself reliving his life all over again after dying at the hands of All for One. But he notices that things are different than before. From Bakugou being friendly with him to his homeroom teacher suddenly having an eccentric personality.

And it's all thanks to this mysterious entity that revived him. But that's not the only thing that's changed. Izuku suddenly has his own quirk. Sort of.

The mysterious entity knew that Izuku couldn’t face All for One again without an ace up his sleeve, so it decided to give him one.

In the form of a Zhao. A quirk that manifests in 5% of the Earth’s population and is based on the interests, dreams, aspirations, etc. of its user. The mysterious entity created Zhaos using the Illuminating Spark, an ancient relic known to shape worlds like Izuku’s in different ways.

Unfortunately for the entity, the Illuminating Spark seemed to have disappeared in Izuku’s new world, resulting in an unstable power balance.

With the help of a team of new yet familiar faces, Izuku must find the Illuminating Spark and stop All for One from finding it.

*****

And now ladies, gentlemen, everyone in between, and out of bounds, we have the first character bio sheet of one of the main characters.

Time to properly introduce the man who inspired it all. Give it up for...

*****

The Songbird Hero: Sunny Day

Full Name: Yamada Himawari

Age: 30

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Transfeminine Man

Main Color: Golden Yellow

Occupation(s): English Teacher of UA; Pro Hero/Child Rescue Hero; Lead Singer in J-Pop Idol group Hands Up! Present!

Affiliations(s): The Peacemaker

Quirk: Voice

Quirk Explanation: Voice allows Sunny to manipulate the volume, pitch, bass, and frequency of her voice. She uses her quirk to help calm kids down with soothing melodies or to incapacitate villains with painful wails.

Zhao: Cockatiel

Zhao Explanation: Cockatiel gives Sunny the physical attributes and instincts of a cockatiel. She can summon her wings at will and fly in the air. Whenever she uses her Zhao, the tips of her hair gain a gray and white ombre at the tips.

Relationship(s):

Volante Tafoya-Litvinov/The Vampiric Hero: Stryxxxer [Aizawa's Timeline counterpart]

Relation: Spouse/Teammate

Yagi Toshinori/The Inspiring Spark Hero: One Almighty Star

Relation: Colleague/Leader

Kayama Nemuri/The Alluring Mist Hero: Mystique

Relation: High School Friend/Teammate

Shirokumo Oboro/The Thundering Hero: Loud Cloud

Relation: High School Friend/Teammate

Personality: Sunny is nothing like her past self. While she's just as bright and outgoing as Mic, Sunny's mostly shy and introverted. She mainly keeps to herself unless she needs to say something important. Sunny is great with kids and is happy to help a child in need. She's also overprotective when it comes to a kid's safety, to the point where she goes feral on anyone who abuses a child.

Backstory: Sunny is well known in Japan under her hero title. From singing songs with her band to saving innocent children from villain attacks. It's no wonder why she's almost as popular as One Almighty Star. But underneath that bubbly persona, Sunny is a nervous wreck of a man. She isn't great at speaking her mind and gets flustered easily. She's the only one in the group that doesn't remember her past life's memories. She only gains memories after events happen in front of her. She does remember the previous timeline and being Present Mic, but specific details are a blur. As she teams up with Izuku and Co., Sunny tries to look more into her past, which unveils a dark conspiracy behind Mic's death.

*****

See you guys later!

Alrighty! With that all done, I'm going to be working on the first season. The official release date is July 7th, 2024, MHA'S 10th Anniversary.

#my hero academia #mha #mha au #present mic #yamada hizashi #hizashi yamada #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 1 year

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Our Man Flint

TW: vampyrs, blood, various weapons (no firearms), Christianity, bugs, attempted murder, traditional methods of slaying a vampyr, brief manhandling, captivity, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

Note: The word vampyr is simply an archaic spelling of the modern vampire. This story utilizes traditional Slavic folklore, largely ignoring Hollywood inventions. Although I do throw in my own ideas as well.

Flint eagerly traversed the steep hillside road leading to an abandoned castle, where gossips swore up and down vampyrs resided. The recently concocted rumors, fuelled by illness and death in the small town bellow, itched to be proven.

To Flint, the idea of undead nocturnal creatures feasting on the life blood of humans seemed far more compelling than simple fever and hysteria.

Flint's bag hung heavy on his back, the leather strap digging into his left shoulder. Hawthorn stakes, cloves of garlic, silver blades, and bottles of holy water weighed him down far more than seemed possible.

Or perhaps the objects themselves simply combined with his second thoughts to slow his pace.

A lock of black hair fell over his face, jostled by his swift pace. He swept it behind his ear.

Grass had long since reclaimed large portions of the road. The late summer sun parched the earth and bleached the plants to sickly shades of yellow.

The incline grew, as did Flint's excitement. He was finally facing his first chance to win back the faded glory from his first slaying of a vampyr.

He had intended for it to be his only attempt at the gruesome sport, a simple bid of necessity in a dark time. But the glory had proven a potent drug to which he had quickly become addicted.

His fellow townsfolk had sung his praises like canaries saved from the cat. His family had bragged of his courage to all who would listen. Strangers had hung on every exaggerated word of his tale.

But time faded glory, as it did all things, and Flint needed to continue with his sport to stay under the spotlight.

He couldn't bear the horror of surviving a failure. Being slaughtered by a demon seemed a much better fate than admitting to folly or cowardice.

So, he told no one where he was going and took off at high noon, determined to come back with the head of a vampyr, or excuses for his absence and a few pleasant words on the walk he had taken.

The bright golden sun crept lower in the sky, far past noon, leaving few hours for Flint's quest.

He eventually came upon the front door, a monolithic thing of rotted wood and rusted iron hinges. It reeked of decay and the many bugs living within its heart wood.

Flint nearly threw out his back forcing it open, the hinges screeching from the pain of use.

Any vampyr would be fast asleep, and any other form of inhabitant seemed incredulous, so Flint made no effort to stay quiet as he set off exploring.

Webs stretched from wall to wall, playing host to spiders, swollen from feasting on flies and maggots. Bugs writhed in the webs serving as their death row prison cell, awaiting execution.

Dust coated the ground, jumping up with Flint's every footstep. He coughed and spluttered, trying to clear his lungs. He had never been a smoker, and the sensation of his lungs being filled with foreign elements proved unbearable.

Tattered moth eaten tapestries hung from the walls, or laid limply on the floor, long since fallen from their rusted nails. Their bleached colors betrayed no original design or intention.

Flint had no idea as to what conditions vampyr's prefered. This crumbling castle could very well be a perfect condition for the more civilized sort. He had exhumed his only prior traget from a graveyard, where it laid in a coffin buried six feet under. Rather shabby, when compared to a fortress of stone.

A door caught Flint's attention. The wood looked oddly smooth and glossy, kept free of decay. He twisted the gleaming doorknob. It slid open on its hinges with nary a creak.

The opened corridor was lit by torchlight. Unusual, for any nocturnal creature to want for light or fire. But Flint didn't question the suspicious blessing, instead scanning the corridor for any hints as to its upkeep.

Every door and closed window shutter was fashioned from polished rose wood. Rugs covered the ground, their dark black color concealing any stain of blood which could mar them.

Bugs camped out in corners and crevices, but the webs were far less prolific. They seemed to have been cleared out with the dust and grime.

Flint clutched the crucifix hanging from his throat. He knew it ought to grant him spiritual support, but all he felt was the cold kiss of metal against his palm.

He stopped, entranced by the grotesque classical paintings hanging from the walls.

Glorious battles, religious scenes, and disgusting murders hung side by side with no distinction between them made through positioning.

Some were near pornographic, showing beautiful nude bodies writhing in the flames of hell or brutalized men in ruined clothing revealing far too much flesh.

Flint tore his eyes away. His heart beat frantically, threatening to push through its cage and spill his crimson life blood onto the black wool carpet.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, his heart returned to its proper pace, keeping him well and truly alive.

On an impulse, Flint chose the third door from the entrance to search first. Very little light poured into the room from the open doorway, but after taking a moment for his eyes to adjust, he could just make out its interior.

His heart settled in his stomach, like the body of a child weighed down with stones drowning in a deep well.

On the lefthand side of the room, a pale casket laid, carved from birch or beechwood. Painted patterns of flowers and leaves adorned its tan sides.

On the righthand side of the room, a dark casket blended with the shadows, fashioned from ebony, unblemished by paint nor varnish.

Flint crossed himself.

Then, when no sense of protection nor blessing overcame him, he did it again.

If anything, he felt more chilled than before.

He sighed and dropped his bag on the floor. Jumping at the clatter, he quickly scanned the caskets, listening for any hint of movement from their occupants.

But, of course, there was no movement. It would take a noise much greater than his bag tumbling to the ground to wake the dead.

After assessing both caskets, he decided to open the one of pale wood, revealing a man laid to rest inside.

A thrill ran up Flint's spine as he took in the vampyr's appearance. So youthful, as though a corpse bloated on embalming fluids, kept young by the work of a mortician having no idea as to their unholiness of their work.

Long blonde hair laid smoothly over the vampyr's shoulders, well combed and perfectly clean. Tight leather clothing and strange piercings gave the body a look far too human for Flint's taste. From his limited experience, he prefered vampyrs dressed in burial shrouds fit for the dead.

He didn't bother looking in the ebony casket. Whatever was laid to rest inside could wait until its brethren had been dealt with.

The sharpened hawthorn stake and stone headed hammer fit well in Flint's hand.

Placing the point directly over the vampyr's heart and bracing the hammer over the spike came naturally to him.

This was in spite of the unnatural being of the vampyr, a demon formed of human flesh, feeding on human blood to retain its eternal, ethereal youth.

An unholy mockery to all things faithful.

The killing of a vampyr was a disgusting act. The horrid crack of breaking ribs, great spurts of crimson blood coating both the vampyr and its hunter, and the terrible screams all combined to create an act more gruesome than the murder of a human could be.

Flint hadn't expected screaming on his first hunt, and the sound had made his blood run rancid. The only comforting aspect of the following decapitation had been the noise ceasing.

Flint braced himself.

One heavy blow of the hammer sent the spike through the vampyr's rib cage.

Flint's grasp nearly slipped from the blood slicked stake and hammer, but he tightened his grip and continued.

Another blow drove it into the thing's slowly beating heart.

The shrieking proved worse than Flint's memories had forewarned him, perhaps due to the closed quarters. Nothing earthly could compare. Not the anguish of any battlefield, nor the screams forged by tortured prisoners.

One final blow nailed the vampyr to the earth of its casket, despite its agonized thrashing.

Flint swiftly riffled through his bag for his silver dagger, loudly cursing himself for forgetting to pull it out prior to the attempted slaying.

The lid of the ebony casket openen, its owner awakened by the sound of its companion's pain.

Flint dropped his bag and made his break for the door. Despite his overconfidence in matters of vampyr hunting, he wasn't owned by the folly necessary to face a conscious vampyr.

The awakened vampyr ignored its prey in favor of aiding its companion. Flint accepted this as miraculous and slammed the wood door closed behind him.

The screaming suddenly cut off as the vampyr freed the stake and its companion.

Flint sprinted down the corridor, desperately trying to remember the path to the front door. He turned sharply at a fork, choked by a cloud of dust kicked up by his frantic pace.

The daylight outside would be his salvation, if he could only make it through the front door.

A cold hand gripped the back of his neck, as though a mother cat seizing her kit.

"And where do you think you're going?" a low voice hissed in his ear.

"Let go of me," Flint ordered shrilly.

He kicked backward at the vampyr, twisting to escape its grasp.

When this proved fruitless, he pulled his legs up in an attempt to force the vampyr to drop him, thrashing wildly.

His efforts were met with harsh laughter and sharp nails gripping his throat.

He put his feet firmly back on the ground, as not to seem so pathetic.

"What do you want?" Flint asked, knowing damn well what the answer would be.

"Depends what Ambrose thinks of your little stunt when he awakens tonight. He's recovering now, hence why I was the one to catch you."

"I've killed your kind before. I'm not fucking afraid of you." Flint's voice in its terrible high pitch betrayed his lie.

The vampyr laughed again, out of some sadistic sense of amusement.

Inspiration struck Flint. He pulled the crucifix from under his shirt collar in a desperate attempt to ward off the demon intent on preying on his life blood.

The vampyr swiftly took ahold of the silver chain, yanking it from Flint's neck with a snap of metal.

It hissed at the burns blooming on its hand, and cast the weapon aside, where it hit the wall and feel limply to the ground.

"I really don't appreciate that," the vampyr said, in a mocking tone meant to conceal its pain.

It dragged Flint down the hall, its claws digging into his neck.

A warm trickle of blood ran under Flint's collar.

Flint tried to support his own weight as he was pulled down a stone staircase, but stumbled trying to match the vampyr's pace.

The vampyr gave its prey's struggling no heed, other than a few sighs of annoyance, which were perhaps invented by Flint's own mind.

"Where are you taking me?" Flint demanded.

His captor ignored his useless questioning, instead yanking a door open. It shoved Flint inside, knocking him the ground with remarkable ease.

"We will deal with you when Ambrose has recovered," it said. "Try to escape, and see where it gets you."

It stormed out and slammed the door, before locking it with a key kept in the pocket of its cloak.

Flint rose to his feet, seething. How could he have been so stupid?

Of course that was the point of the screaming, to attract any vampyric allies. There simply hadn't been anyone to answer the call of the first vampyr he had slain, and he had a folly riddled habit of not questioning things which did not pique his interest.

He was trapped in a vampyr's stronghold, destined to meet some gorey fate at the hands of his would-be victims.

Faced with the actual possibility of it occurring, Flint no longer found the prospect of an honorable heroic death at the clawed hands of a vampyr anywhere near as desirable.

Heroism always seemed that way. Perfectly beautiful from an outside perspective, but bloody and impractical from the inside.

Flint leaned against the wall, trying not to breathe in any dust. The filthy rats and creeping bugs were hard to ignore, but Flint wasn't going to show his squeamishness. Not when his captor could be listening.

If he could make it through tonight, he would escape come the following dawn. He had nothing to do but wait.

@elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @mx-arsenic @anomalys-taxonomy @devourerofcheesecake

If anyone want to be added or removed from the tag list, tell me. ♡♡♡

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auraee · 2 years

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- 𝕀𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕥, 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖. -

ꕤ 𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖 - So this came from an idea I had a few days ago. I only had thought of the ending and not so much of the 'what led up to it', so I created this! Also I'd like to warn that there is specific she/her pronouns used in this, so if you're not alright with that then please request a version with blank pronouns for you to fill in. There's a little bit of angst towards the third act but, it's pretty much all fluff. If you're alright with that then -

ꕤ 𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ꕤ

Reblogs are appreciated - likes are too, as they help get my work further out there.

ꕤ 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕩𝕥.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝔽𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕝 - The tradition of the Sumidagawa Fireworks Festival can be traced back to the Kyōhō famine in 1732, when fireworks were launched as part of festivals for the dead. These were mourning observances for the dead, as well as celebrations of life, and entertainment for the poverty-stricken masses. The festival fireworks occur during the last Saturday of every July.

𝕐𝕦𝕟𝕠𝕞𝕚 - This refers to a tea cup.

𝔸𝕔𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 - 𝔸 𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕥

A cool summer breeze swept my frame, giving me momentary relief from the lingering heat from a few hours ago. Now that it's coming towards the end of July the heat is stifling. Sweltering, even. My uniform that I’ve been wearing clung tight to my figure, vaguely depicting the curves that hid underneath. Few stars hung in the sky tonight - odd since that would've been more of a normal occurrence in the winter. Still those few shimmered in the dark, casting a soft ethereal glow on the earthy vastness below it. The moon was the other giant ornament decorating the sky, gleaming with pride besides its tiny fluttering friends.

The night woodland creatures crept up from their burrows and dens, wandering around and mingling with their own. Paying no mind to me and the man that I had been travelling with.

Heaving out another tired sigh I removed my haori, exposing more of my bare skin to the wind and alleviating my body further from the weather’s onslaught. Tonight, much like other night’s, went well. Though, it began with the flame hashira paying a visit to the sound hashira and I while I was training and developing my breathing style.

Despite pretensions, Tengen was a wonderful teacher. A little flirty - yes, but he wouldn’t push past my comfortability. He respected and appreciated that I wanted to take on a new breathing style. Especially as it was derived from his own (he’d gloat a lot about that to the other hashira) and supported me on my journey to create and master it. I befriended his wives, they were all really kind and encouraging too. I appreciated their friendship and wished them the best of luck on their reconnaissance mission that they were going to go on in a few days. Earlier that day, while I was practising my seventh form at the Uzui estate when Kyojuro walked onto the training grounds, requesting to speak with us both.

Taking the lead into his home, Tengen slid open the doors to let himself, myself and his other fellow comrade in. Taking up space on the tatami mat flooring Tengen promptly lay on his side, our previous jovial conversations glowing dimly now that the conversation topic had changed.

Surprised, Tengen raised his brow at Kyojuro’s request, wondering why Kyojuro’s asked to take his tsuguko with him on another mission.

“You’re capable of tracking the demons on your own, Rengoku.” Tengen stated, reaching for his tea-filled yunomi*, “But I am curious for your reason this time. It’s not the first time that you’ve asked to take my tsuguko.”

Kyojuro sat opposite Tengen; his signature bright smile plastered on his face, “The reason for my request was because the master suggested I do it. So I think _____ will do perfectly. I know that she is capable.”

My ears pricked with indistinguishable, bashful heat. I had been trying to listen to the important parts of the conversation while being there, but this caught me off guard.

I gave my clasped hands on my lap a brief squeeze, nodding briefly and politely to the man who complimented me, “Thank you, Kyojuro.”

“You are welcome!” He answered before returning his attention to the lying man in front of him. “I am waiting for your answer, Uzui.”

Tengen, on the other hand, twirled the flavoured steaming beverage in his cup. Magenta hues eyed the flame hashira, tinted with intrigued suspicion. “And what about that trio that you took under your wing? Where are they?”

“I’ve sent them to the east.” Kyojuro responded, gesturing to the red point of his regional map. “Based on their letters relayed, they’ll be arriving there in two days. Once there, they’ll be dealing with the cluster of demon attacks in the village at its centre and one more just off the coast. As for the remaining swordsmen, I’ve sent them here.” Swiftly, Kyojuro then pointed to the west and southern provinces of his map. “To watch over the land that I cleared two weeks ago and let me know if anything has risen there without my knowledge. Which only leaves…”

“The North east.” Interjected Tengen, taking a final sip of his tea before setting it down.

“Yes.”

“Do you think we can clear it?” I finally piped up to ask Kyojuro.

Rigour in Kyojuro’s voice dissipated, replacing it with a much softer tone, “I know so.” he said, with an even softer smile. “You haven’t failed me yet, _____! Your skill and mastery have improved vastly thanks to your will and Tengen’s teachings.”

My plump lips puckered up into an appreciative smile, ignoring the pestering bubbling heat on my features, “Thanks, Kyojuro. It’s nice to hear you think that.”

“I feel as though you are not telling us the whole truth, Rengoku.” Tengen smirked, pointing two fingers to the blonde in the room, “And that’s not very flamboyant, now is it Kyojuro? Please be honest with _____ here. ”

I wasn't quite sure what Tengen was implying considering that there wouldn’t be much reason why Kyojuro would have come here. While —yes, he’d come over and train with us, conversations would spontaneously sprout, but again this didn’t seem too out of the ordinary. It was never unwelcomed. I enjoyed being accompanied by Kyojuro wherever I went, I thought we had gotten closer because it.

This time, Kyojuro was the one to interject, “Yes, and that is what I’ve been intending to do, Uzui.” Kyojuro paused for a moment, a set of marigold eyes altering their perspective onto me. “Actually, yes, let me ask the person in question. _____!”

…And that’s how I ended up here.

𝔸𝕔𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 - 𝔸 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕

“Are you alright, _____?” asked Kyojuro, concern staining his features, making his fuzzy brows knit together.

The heat was apparently too much of the flame hashira too, because he had removed his own haori and tucked it under his arm, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoned most of his uniform.

“If I were being honest, I’m hot and tired and my feet ache,” I answered, taking another laboured breath, “but other than that, I’m alright�� I think.”

Kyojuro, amused by my frustration, chuckled softly, apologetically placing a hand on my bare shoulder, “I know that the heat is trying, but it is nothing we can’t get through! Focus on your breathing and look ahead! Just a little further and we’ll rest for a moment by the bridge!”

I nodded begrudgingly, swiping more sweat from my brow, “Okay...”

Kyojuro suddenly halted his movements to face me, “You mentioned your feet aching! Would you like me to carry you?” he said, raising his hands to his hips standing a good foot away from me.

Stopping mid stride, I waved my hands in front of me, “Oh no, no it’s fine really. Don’t worry about it I’m-”

“But you just said that your feet hurt, did you not?” he persisted, now taking several steps to close distance. With a gaze so vehement and fierce that it made me take a step backwards.

“Y-yes,” I began, still trying to make my point, “but I really should just walk it off. What kind of swordswoman would I be if I couldn’t withstand sore feet?”

“But you have someone here that is offering you aid! I must insist,_____! If you’ll allow it, I will carry you!”

“And my breathing?”

“You can focus on that while I hold you in my arms! Now, come!” In that ribbon of words, Kyojuro took hands from his hips and folded them over his chest, letting out a cheerful laugh. “I’d be happy to help someone so dear to me!”

My breath hitched at that comment, averting my gaze to hush the pitter patter of my own rampant heart. It’s that my feet did hurt, not just from running around tracking and slaying demons, but from walking such long distances. I’m surprised that my sandals haven’t worn away, but then again that’s thanks to the workers at the swordsmith village.

“Kyojuro?”

“Hm, what is it?”

“Okay.”

“Okay what? -- Oh! To me carrying you!”

Another breeze passed by us, stealing a pleased hum as I lent my weight to a nearby tree. I covered my mouth to stifle a laughing fit, “Have you already forgotten?”

Kyojuro’s gaze lingered on my features, honeyed cheeks blossoming to a sweet pink, “My apologies,_____!” he declared, voice octaves louder in a meek attempt to hide his embarrassment. “Now, if you’ll hold on to my haori while we travel, I will carry you.”

I nodded and took Kyojuro’s haori. In a swift step Kyojuro took a stance behind me, lowering himself slightly, while simultaneously letting me know exactly what he was going to do. “Please put your arm around my neck and I will do the rest, _____.”

Doing as I was told , I wrapped my arm around the flame hashira’s neck; yelping at the sudden jolt from being heaved up so effortlessly by a set of strong arms despite my weight. Kyojuro’s broad chest and biceps cushioned and cradled my side and portion of my back while the other arm had a generously firm grip from under my legs.

Kyojuro took another glance at me, “Are you comfortable?”

“I am.” I told him, adjusting myself somewhat in Kyojuro’s hold.

Kyojuro’s features softened at my response, giggling before he attempted to open his mouth, but he was interrupted by the call of a crow.

The bird dove down from the empty vastness, stopping to flap gracefully and land on Kyojuro’s shoulder. It confirmed that we had cleared the area for the time being and to rest while we could before setting off again in search of more.

“That is good news.” Kyojuro stated, giving the crow a brief nod. “I appreciate your assistance, my crow. But please keep looking for any other remaining demons. I want there to be none lurking around under my watch. We know that they are getting smarter and working more cohesively in groups. I do not want any more civilians getting hurt if we can prevent it.”

The crow then turned to me, tilting its head. Probably wondering why I was being held in such a position by the flame hashira.

My ears scorched at the thought of the crow even possibly interpreting this oddly. Kyojuro wanted to help, so I let him! I definitely wasn’t thinking about how easily he lifted me and held me so tenderly that at any moment I’d start swinging my feet, or how his radiating warmth was surprisingly comforting despite the unbearable the other lingering heat, or how I liked the feeling of his-

“Um…precisely. What he said…I agree with.” I announced, slowly swallowing the looming carboned air down my throat.

Promptly, at its master’s words the crow dismissed itself before taking off into the night. Its inky feathers camouflaging perfectly with the skyline - nothing’ll catch it.

I heaved out a sigh of relief.

“Now then, let us be on our way!” said Kyojuro, positioning himself, “Please hold on tight!”

With that Kyojuro then lunged forward, a whirlwind of flames left in his wake as we took off into the night.

𝔸𝕔𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 - 𝕋𝕠 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

My eyes had a rough time keeping up with the landscape as we zipped by. Kyojuro carefully leveraged our collective weight, quickly and concisely leaping from and over durable tree branches, briefly launching us over the treetops and giving us a breath-taking view of everything above it.

Once Kyojuro set foot on the ground, he contorted his body according to obstacles that he faced on the way, before leaping another great distance, the cycle repeating itself until we reached our destination.

It wasn’t long before we arrived at the foot of the bridge. It was wider than I imagined it, spanning over into the oncoming horizon with dozens of little boats (I’m sure they were much larger if we got close) bobbing along its waters to lands unknown. Kyojuro’s pace had slowed to a walk, the drumming of his heart seemed calm despite the trek. Although, considering his meticulous training, that wasn’t surprising. Faint celebratory music floated in the air from a town just over the horizon, along with laughter and a lot of shouting. A temporary sense of peace washed over me; watching the clouds form one by one and embed themselves in a twin mountain-like cluster just below the moon; making me think if I just got out far enough, I might even be able to walk on them.

“Ah! I forgot about that!” said a boisterous voice, suddenly carving its way through the silence, “Today is the last Saturday of July! Which means that today is the Sumidagawa Fireworks Festival!*”

I looked up at the owner of the voice, “What is that?”

“You don’t know– well, I suppose if you’re asking it would imply that you didn’t know about the festival!” Another spirited laugh followed that sentence, the sound filtering into the night. Once Kyojuro’s laughter settled he began to make his way onto the bridge.

I wiggled in Kyojuro’s grasp, clearing my throat after realising how comfortable I had gotten in it. “Um, perhaps you should put me down. I’m alright to walk, Kyojuro.” I said, patting Kyojuro’s chest.

“Ah! Apologies! I didn’t mean to hold you for so long.” Kyojuro chuckled, “I accidentally got used to the feeling of you in my arms. I barely noticed I was still carrying you!”

Warmth roused my features, but I quickly squelched it, “Ah, um…well, thank you for taking me here.”

“You’re welcome!”

A smile tugged at my lips as I was set down and returned the flame hashira’s haori. I accompanied Kyojuro on his walk up to the middle of the bridge, listening to what he had to say.

“Well, you see, to put it simply” he began, “the purpose of the festival, the fireworks specifically – was to honour those who had passed long ago due to famine! But over the years the tradition became a means to not only honour those who have passed during that era, but also the loved ones that came and passed after that! People also see it as a celebration of life and new beginnings. The festival prior is dedicated to sharing warmth and happiness to its visitors!”

“I see.” I nodded respectfully, “And…what are fireworks?”

Kyojuro stopped to hold my gaze, studying it for hints of mischief, his eyes eventually widening in surprise after realising that I was being serious.

“Well, fireworks are like pretty decorations for the sky! They shoot up from the ground,” Kyojuro explained eagerly, shooting his arm up to mimic the spectacle, “and then they explode into pretty shapes of different colours!”

“They explode? Isn’t that dangerous?” I queried, tilting my head.

“Yes, but it’s done at a safe distance!”

“And what kind of shapes do they take?”

“Oh, hm – let’s see…” Kyojuro hummed, taking a moment to rub his chin and think, “Well there are flowers. Really pretty big, bright ones. And sometimes there are ones of mythic creatures like dragons!”

I listened to Kyojuro ramble about the fireworks and how they lit up the night sky like nothing else. I laughed watching Kyojuro mimicking the sounds of the fireworks and telling me of the times when he visited the festival with his family. Not to mention the stern talking to’s he’d get from taking food from the stalls and eating them without asking.

Hearing all this made me even more curious about the fireworks and festival. Coming from a foreign land – all of these things were new to me, but I wanted to experience the traditions of this land as well. After re-adjusting my uniform, I rested my chin in my hand on the wooden beam, watching the skyline for the fireworks to appear. Kyojuro did the same, standing beside me in his usual stance now with a fully buttoned uniform.

“Hm…”

“Be patient, _____!” Kyojuro remarked, giving me a brief nod, “They will be here in no time.”

In that moment, a distant hissing sound erupted from over the partying town that sat over the horizon. That hissing then became much, much louder. Something remnant of a shooting star hurtled it way into the air. Higher and higher it went, barrelling past the clouds, arching over the crescent moon only to explode into a cacophony of bangs and iridescent colours, vastly contrasting the navy blue sky. The noises up to that moment were a little overwhelming on my sensitive ears; thanks to training with the sound hashira. “Are you alright?” Kyojuro asked, approaching me, his amber eyes once again riddled with worry despite the ever lingering smile on his face.

“I’m fine.” I chuckled awkwardly, “I just wasn’t really sure what to expect. I suppose I didn’t really expect it to be so loud.”

I watched Kyojuro’s face shift away from generous concern. His larynx bobbled in his throat as he held me by the shoulders, his marigold eyes twinkled under the sparks of light. “Is being loud…bad?”

Why did he sound…apprehensive?

Kyojuro Rengoku, the boisterous and mighty flame pillar. The man with exceptional physical strength, swordsmanship, technique, whose leadership abilities rivalled only by the master— right now sounded unsure of himself? It was almost as if he was waiting for my approval at that moment. A non-threatening intensity clung to the space between us, the fireworks show sounding far more distant now that Kyojuro’s big puppy-like eyes hovered over me, his gaze travelling to my lips for my answer.

I momentarily averted my gaze, mentally waving away the clouds in my mind, “Oh, no I don’t think so. I was just surprised. I’ll be prepared for it next time. Thank you for checking on me Kyojuro.”

“I see! Well I’m glad then!” And just like that he was his normal self again, rewarding me with a closed eyed grin.

Not a moment had passed when Kyojuro called for me again. The warmth radiating from his body spread across my back,

“Hm?”

“Would you like me to cover your ears?” He finally asked.

He paused for a moment, “If it’ll help, of course.”

I smiled briefly and nodded. “I’d like that.”

Being mindful of my textured hair, Kyojuro placed hands over my ears, cupping them softly. Underneath the red and orange ribbons of light that sparked and crackled and danced across the sky, unkempt feelings began to blossom and grow. I nervously fiddled with the olive strands of my haori’s embroidery, doing my best not to melt under Kyojuro’s touch.

The light show continued, both of us in awe of the portraits that painted the sky. “Sunflowers! Just as you said, Kyojuro!” I giggled, tip-toeing against the wooden beam, “They’re so beautiful! How’s any of this even possible!”

Kyojuro hummed, chuckling at my giddiness, “They are, yes. Beautiful, in every single way.”

“Thank you, by the way,” I said, gesturing to my ears “for this.”

“Of course!”

There was a brief pause.

“_____?”

“Mm?”

“I’d like to pursue you romantically.”

My heart thundered viciously in the cage of my chest. I zipped around to face Kyojuro and found him rosy cheeked with his eyes fixated down on me.

“W-what did you say?”

Kyojuro’s breath staggered, pressing his lips together as he brought his hands down to his sides. “I like you, _____.” Kyojuro began, his voice oozing with sincerity, “With every time we meet, I always find myself losing myself in you. Your smile, your laugh — I’ve always found your nature mesmerising.”

I stared back at him in shock. I never thought that he’d ever…

“You are precious — the most precious to me. I know that our jobs as slayers have us apart sometimes, but I truly treasure the time that we get to spend together. Whenever I get a chance to pull you in an embrace, or make you laugh, those moments mean the most to me.”

My mouth remained slightly ajar, wanting to speak and confess too but shyness held me back.

Kyojuro’s bashfulness had now spread onto his ears as he rambled. The tips mimicking the red tips of his ardent hair. “I know that life is unpredictable and the paths that we choose to take are just as much. We leverage living peaceful lives to our duties to those who can’t protect themselves, a cause that I believe in with all my heart, but I’d like to do something selfish for once.”

Under the dancing lights, my heart was filled with so much happiness I thought it might burst. I smiled softly, “And what is that?

At that, Kyojuro reached to cup my cheek, his thumb delicately grazing it as he brought down his forehead to rest on my coily bangs, “To allow my feelings for you to blossom, if you allow it, of course.”

- 𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 -

❀ 𝔸𝕟 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 ⚘ ꕤ 𝕀𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 ⚘ ❁ 𝕊𝕠𝕞��𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟

#kyojuro rengoku x black!reader #kyojuro x you #black female reader #kyojuro x black reader #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojurou #demon slayer kyojuro #fanfic #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer

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halfstack-smp · 2 years

Text

The Lion's Share

It’s a man, or something like one. A small tengu in dark wings and a darker coat that gives its body a round, soft shape. Pipe smoke rolls out in sparks of color, the sunset fade of its clothes and hat-tassels stark against the encroaching night.

TW- Child abandonment, implied human trafficking, past child neglect, non-graphic violence.

Content- Hurt comfort, slice of life, nonbinary child pov, the horror of being stuck in a farmer's market with a chinese grandpa AND a mexican grandpa

Screen reader's note: Contains passages in Hokkien english, Spanish. Use of gender neutral it/they pronouns.

You're at the beginning.

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Kelpies don't deal in children.

Too tender. Too bony. Too small. Such pitiful meat for all too much effort that would be better spared on a full sized drowned. Besides, children- and their parents- make for very sore losers.

It's just bad sport.

But this particular kelpie, it seems, doesn't care much for sport. Not enough to keep refusing Lynel's request to substitute their mother's life with their own after she wagered too much to walk away from.

That’s how it always starts. A wager- a wager of a waterhorse, and whatever dumb motherfucker is desperate enough to bet their own living meat for coin.

(Like Mother did.)

It’s- it’s a fair trade, is what it is. One life for another. Their little brothers still need Mother to come back home tomorrow, and she'll have one less mouth to feed. It's not like Lynel really regrets the whole thing. They just hope they'll at least get to go to bed first. Or have some food. Dead people are supposed to get last meals, or something like that.

(Lynel isn’t counting on it.)

It's nightfall now, and it seems like this kelpie isn’t interested in making an easy meal out of the night creatures that’ll be crawling out of the woodwork soon. Lynel supposes that’s fair. If they had a choice between eating zombies and literally anything else, they’d go for the latter. Besides, the kelpie had been kicking up that big fuss earlier about not wanting to get their nice clothes ruined. They’re barely even willing to touch Lynel at all. In the growing darkness, their presence is reduced to nothing but a clawed hand digging into Lynel’s shirt.

The kelpie’s grip spasms. They turn around, an irritated snarl pulling against their too-long lips as they pull Lynel closer. “Business is closed. There are no more refunds.”

“Na?” A figure steps out into the fading light. “What refund do y’ think I might be de-mandin’? That’s no child o’ mine.”

The kelpie snorts disdainfully. “There’s always some bleeding heart that wants to beg for my debtors.” Their clawed hand clenches down on Lynel’s shoulder. “This whole night has been a waste of time. Let me pass before the locals think I have a taste for bad meat.”

The tengu’s smile turns sharp, flat. “Oh, I don’t plan to beg, le. I’ll trade you fair and square.”

The tengu takes off its coat, arms rolling with the movement of its wings as it shrugs the fabric off its body. But the soft bright hues of its shirt does fuck all to hide its full chest, broad shoulders, and powerful arms- there’s a lithe, practiced ease to its movements, and the stark black feathers around its wings and face glint like copper and gold, the warm tones singing with a soft richness of magic.

The kelpie’s defensive sneer shifts with perked ears and a sickeningly curious head tilt. The disdainful curl of their mouth warps into this leering softness, frightening and hungry, and for some reason, it feels like that's exactly what the tengu wants.

“Shuai ge, here’s what’s gonna happen.” The tengu’s head jerks to the dock. “We’re takin' that last ride outta town, and you an’ I are gonna play an ea-sy game o’ cards. Hao le ma?”

“In exchange for the child, I imagine,” the kelpie teases.

The tengu lets out a coy hum. “I think you wouldn’t mind too terr-i-bly if we let ‘em go either way.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Lynel hears the click of the tengu’s cane as they walk up to the incoming ship. It’s an odd thing to have. The tengu sounds… not young, really, but not quite old enough to be needing a cane, especially with that all too literal skip in its bouncing step.

It's hard to keep track of the details after that. Lynel never really had time to play those kind of games, and it's not like they can see what the two are playing anyways.

What's so special about kelpie games, anyway? The only two endings are getting a boatload of money or just dying. Why did Mother even need money so bad in the first place? Everything was fine before she got so paranoid. But no, she'd packed off while all Lynel's little brothers were out for school, and Lynel had been stupid enough to follow her.

Stupid enough to take her place. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If only they'd been a little less tired, a little less hungry. What was even the last thing Lynel ate? A corn chip. Their last meal on this godforsaken earth is a corn chip. That's what they'll be dying for, a single corn chip-

“Oh, you thieving little MAGPIE-”

Lynel barely has time to flinch as the kelpie surges across the table, clawed arms lunging forward to pin the tengu against the wall. But it’s the kelpie that looks threatened, not the tengu- the kelpie’s fine suit is disheveled with rage, while the tengu limply leans against the wooden surface with a languid smile and laughs. The motion pulls against the red markings on the edge of its eyes like a delighted, blood-tinged squint.

Sightmarks. The tengu’s an honest-to-Ortet diviner.

“Y’ really didn’t see what was on my face from the be-ginning?” The tengu tilts its shadowed head, letting out a coy sound. “Ke ai, le.”

“Most people who want to try their luck know better than to cheat,” the kelpie growls.

“I said it’d be easy,” the tengu laboriously articulates. “I didn’t say it’d be easy for you.” Its eyes flick back to Lynel, the first hint of nervousness it’s dared to show this entire round. “An’ I know you ain’t fixin’ t’ keep the child an-y-ways. Y’know what happens to kelpies that start puttin’ young meat on their ledgers.”

The kelpie relinquishes their hold, like the touch of the tengu’s body burns. “Bloody fucking fortune tellers.”

The kelpie starts to leave the room. Lynel shakily gets up to their feet. “Wait, wait-” They trail after the kelpie uneasily, following them onto the deck. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“What do I care?” the kelpie rhetorically asks as they walk off the edge of the boat. “Have a life, human child.”

“But-”

The water splashes. Lynel and the tengu watch the damp shadow of the kelpie disappear.

After a moment, the tengu lets out a loud wheezing sound, chest suddenly heaving with clicking, rattling breaths.

“Aiyo.” A sturdy, red-taloned arm braces across its chest. “Kiasi le.” It looks down at Lynel with a worn smile. “Good t’ see that one leave, eh? Big man with their big words.”

“Why are you acting so scared all the sudden?” Lynel sputters. “I’m the one that was gonna get eaten!”

The tengu frowns. “Gin na, I don’t want you to be eaten le. Wo hui ben si le, ma? Whole time, I’m tryin’ to get that one away from you. Why else d’ya reckon I’d get so close to a water horse?”

Lynel can barely understand half the words coming out of the tengu’s mouth, and maybe it shows, because the tengu freezes in place a little bit and slows its next words. It’s a nice thought, probably, but it really just points out that the guy is barely moving its mouth when it talks, and it’s kind of creepy.

“You gave yourself away, yes?” the tengu slowly asks. Lynel nods, and the tengu mirrors the motion. “That okay, le. You are not in trou-ble. Too young. Is there someone I can give you back to?”

“My- my mother brought me here,” Lynel haltingly answers.

The tengu closes its eyes and takes a deep breath. “If I take you t’ your mother, she wants you back?”

“Of course she does!” Lynel shouts. “It weren’t her fault!”

The tengu raises its hands. “Okay le! Okay. Then I take you home, okay?”

Lynel nods. It’ll be fine. They’ll go home and be done with it and be fine.

=[]=

It was not, in fact, fine.

Things were so not-fine, in fact, that Lynel ended up never really going home at all. Because they didn’t want to go home anymore, ever again.

That’s how not-fine it is.

Fadir Ravenslove perches on the train seat next to Lynel. Fadir Ravenslove- this is the name of the tengu that saved Lynel’s life, and Lynel’s starting to think that maybe it’s not quite a tengu at all. Not with that shadow over its face and the odd lilt of its sentences, like speech was some kind of novelty it doesn’t quite understand.

They’re sitting close enough to touch. Neither of them do.

Lynel looks up to find the larger… raven… thing staring directly into their eyes. Lynel startles, just a bit, and Fadir draws back slightly, eyes turning away.

“Paisei,” Fadir mutters. “Paisei.” It clicks to itself. “Ah- ni- ni hui-”

It stumbles and stutters over its words, mouth opening and closing out of sync with its odd little sounds.

“D’you want t’ talk about it?” it finally manages.

“No,” Lynel lies. “Why did you give my mother all that money?” they ask instead.

“She don’t deserve t’ go hungry on ac-count of coins,” Fadir easily answers. “An’ she has kids to feed, besides.”

“You need to eat, too,” Lynel quietly insists.

Fadir chuckles. “I don’t need money t’ do that. Besides, I can just get more, le.”

A silence passes.

“It’s cus she stopped,” Lynel suddenly says. “She- she waited- she-”

“Hes-i-tate.”

“That. You showed up in that house with me and a bunch of coins spillin’ out your sleeves like broken jug, and she- she hesitated.” Lynel’s voice turns small. “Like she wasn’t sure she wanted me back, even if you paid her for it.”

Fadir tilts its head. “I think she is very stressed all the time. Only her in that house to take care o’ y’all.” It gestures with its fingers. “Y’leave anybody alone like that too long, their brains get cruel, le. Makes ‘em think things they don’t want to. It ain’t her fault.”

“I don’t care.” Lynel curls up against themself in the seat. “She still thought it. I just- how am I supposed to back home, if I’m always gonna know she did that?”

Fadir’s smile gains a sad tilt.

“I don’t care if she didn’t mean it,” Lynel shakily whispers. “I don’t care if she loves me. It wasn’t enough.” Their eyes start to flood with tears. “I wasn’t enough.”

Fadir stares at Lynel for a bit and lets out a sigh. “I’m not tellin’ you t’ go back home for anything, am I?”

“I’m not going,” Lynel insists. “I don’t care where you put me, just not there.”

“Okay, le.” A taloned hand hesitantly rests in Lynel’s hair. “I know somewhere you can stay.”

“Just for a little bit,” Lynel promises. “And then I’ll- I’ll leave. I promise.”

(And they never did.)

=[]=

There’s a routine falling into place at Ravenslove Tower, and it goes something like this.

Lynel wakes up in a room they don’t share with anyone else, in a clean bed with a blanket that doesn’t have holes in it. The window does have holes, but they’re like… on purpose holes. Lattice? Something.

There’s also a full staircase of chests and drawers that Fadir said they could use. A full staircase! It doesn’t have a lot of stuff in it, but Fadir said they could work on that. Lynel’s… almost counting on that, actually.

(Almost.)

They go down their staircase, past the workroom and towards the hearth. Fadir passes a quick bowl of fruit towards them across the table and asks them to check if the chickens have any eggs.

“Alright, just this once,” Lynel allows. “You can’t make me do it again.”

And it never did. (It never does.) Fadir never really gives Lynel chores, just… things to do if they have the time. There’s a lot of things to do around the house. Fetch the eggs, fill the trough, turn the chickens out, check the garden hasn’t done anything odd, see if the sniffer’s brought anything in for the pantry.

Fadir absolutely doesn’t ask Lynel to do much more in the house than keep their own room clean or wash up their dishes if they aren’t busy. In fact, Fadir seems pretty insistent on Lynel not fussing around with anything inside, especially not the work room.

(Lynel doesn’t know what’s inside the work room and they’re too scared to ask.)

There’s also the… guy(?) who lives in the walls. A fluffy haired imp in a crop top that swaggers around outdoors in a leather jacket, chaps, and tiny white boots, judging Lynel’s chicken related ventures with a scrutinizing black gaze. His name is Kibble. (Allegedly.) He doesn’t seem to do much more than bother chickens, bother Fadir, and steal deli meat from the ice box.

He also shows up when Fadir goes shopping, so there’s that. Shopping is…

…it’s gotta be one of the events of all time.

“Zhe ge, ne?” Fadir’s knobbly hands lift a papaya out of a cardboard box. “Gei ni hui kan.”

“Fuckin’ uhhhh-” Kibble squints at the fruit’s freckled surface. “It looks a little too green. There’s definitely some better ones in the box.”

Fadir lets out a short hum and puts the fruit back, hand hovering over the pile. Kibble hops off its shoulder, bouncing off the wood of the stall to disappear into a nearby barrel, only visible by the remnants of his long tail.

“You go pick something out,” Fadir offers suddenly. “Anythin'. I pay for you.”

Lynel points questioningly to themself.

“They’ve got nearly everythin’ ‘round here,” Fadir insists. “Bound t’ have somethin’ you like.”

Lynel ducks their head between their shoulders. “Can’t you pick it out with your…” They gesture vaguely at the black shadow covering up Fadir’s face.

Fadir’s expression seems to freeze for a moment. A statue held in place. And then its eyes stutter back into motion, and the moment is gone.

“I want t’ see what you choose.” Its hand briefly taps at Lynel’s knuckles. “What you choose. Ne?”

Anything, it said. Anything at all? That’s, uh- that’s sure a lot of thing. Lynel’s not really sure what to do with that. But… Fadir didn’t say they had to pick something out right now. (Right?) So- Lynel’s just going to look around a little bit. They don’t want to go too far away.

Just a little off to the side, there’s a candy stand, its boxes piled high with every sort of sugary thing it could manage. Candied flowers, rose jams, pumpkin slices, even candied meats. And right in the corner, nestled between some candied nuts and colorful chocolates, was a little box of marshmallows.

Lynel was never allowed to have marshmallows before. Mother bought plenty of candied fruits and meats when she could (it lasted longer than anything fresh), but never marshmallows. Large, fluffy, and devoid of substance. Fadir would never let them eat something like that, not while it fusses over how thin it thinks Lynel is. Surely not.

And yet, and yet, and yet. Lynel’s hands still end up wrapping around a little box of frog shaped marshmallows.

“Wa!” Fadir sidles up behind Lynel to stare at the candy cart. “Powder sugar le! I can sugar my basil flowers.”

“You candy your flowers?” Lynel asks. “I guess it makes them easier to sell…”

“Sometimes, le,” Fadir concedes before its smile gains a coy squint. “But! They are just good t’ have, ne? Not very good, but-” It lets out a sharp chirp. “Y’ don’t need everythin’ t’ be all well n’ good all the time-”

Its body suddenly stiffens, feathers puffing out like an angry cat’s hackles. Lynel follows its gaze to find…

…Kibble. Just standing there. Holding a single avocado and the smuggest possible grin on its face.

“No,” Fadir tersely says.

“It’s on sale, señor,” Kibble teases.

“No sale,” Fadir denies. “Only death.”

“It is in season!” Kibble insists, pushing the avocado closer. “You deny Ortet’s bounty?”

Fadir clutches its cane and hisses. “I de-ny you want to kill me! Poi-son me!”

Kibble hoists the avocado over his head. “The power of Ortet compels you!”

Fadir lightly bats Kibble away. Instead of just dropping the avocado like a normal person, Kibble decides to fly backwards into the supporting wall of the stall and ricochet directly into Fadir’s face, allowing the offending fruit to drop directly into Fadir’s hand.

A single weary golden eye looks down at Lynel as Kibble scrabbles for purchase on its hat.

“Every day I wake up,” the raventhing ominously mutters.

Lynel wheezes out a loud laugh.

“Aiiiyi, wo tai lao le,” Fadir sarcastically despairs. “No face. Children laugh at me.” It offers the avocado to Lynel. “You want my poison? Human fruit, good for you.”

Lynel simply offers up their marshmallow box like a meager shield. “Can I just have this instead?”

Instead of saying yes or no, Fadir places another marshmallow box on top of Lynel’s.

“So you don’t run out,” it offers.

“I’m not even gonna stay that long,” Lynel mutters. “I probably won’t even be here by next week.”

“And then you won’t run out while you’re gone,” Fadir simply says.

“R-right. Until it runs out.”

(And it never did.)

#ravenslove #fadir ravenslove #lynel ravenslove #kibble maravilla-ravenslove #tengu #imp #kelpie #human #halfstack public transportation #ravenslove tower #halfstack snake-alley #halfstack stories #halfstack smp #aenor-llelo

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slayingqueenchal · 2 years

Text

Why? | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings : angst, female pronouns, first person pov, edmunds an asshole, I summed up some of narnia

"Ed, what if we don't.. We don't see each other anymore? " I said.

"We will, we have to" He hugged me. Then we kissed our, might be our last kiss.

"Y/n, Edmund has to go now" Said aslan and i nodded.

I went to my brother Caspian, who was sobbing too.

Then, one by one, they went in, until we cant see them anymore.

Aslan nodded, and the people understand, they all slowly started to go back to their own houses.

After that, without even saying 'I'm going to go' or 'I'm sorry I have to go' to Aslan, I instead ran to my room, and shut the door.

I sobbed, why?

Why did I have to go through this?, was he even real?

I stood up, took everything that is from the Pevensies, and put them in a wooden box.

I took everything, from the drawings I made with Lucy, Susans hair tie, the cloth of Peters clothes when he accidentally hit me with the sword when we all first met, and Edmunds 'confession' letter.

I closed the box, then, I locked it.

I put the key on my table.

I went to the door. But then, the feeling of 'loosing' someone you loved hits hard. From that day on, you and caspian, became.. Somewhat depressed.

After two years, there was less crying, yes, crying maybe once in awhile but, we were stable.

Caspian was in meetings, sometimes too busy to tell me.

"Y/n, pack your things, were going to search for the Lord's" Said caspian

What?

"What? " I said in pure confusion. It was at the middle of the night

"Seriously, Caspian, it's midnight" I said.

"Come onnn, wake up" He said and I got up, and he helped me pack my stuffs.

"Oh yeah, I can pack with my own now, thanks for helping though" I said and he got out.

I walked to mu wardrobe, took a dusty wooden box. I cleaned the dust off. I took the key, tossed them and I closed the bag. I sighed.

I got out, went on the voyage and sat there. The moon was beautiful. It was shining.

But, as I sat there, I started to get sleepy so, I went to my room. It was not as big as my original room back there, but it's nice. There's a window, I can see the sea, reflecting the moons brightness, it was perfect.

I went to the bed, and tried to sleep. And I did, the next morning I woke up early, cause I was starving.

I took some bread and ate it, it was good. I watched the sunrise, it was beautiful too. Though, it reminded me of someone that was more beautiful than the sun or the moon, but he is in the past.

I 𝙐𝙨𝙚𝙙 to love that man, but our relationship was.. Complicated, but that's alright, I've moved on. I should've moved on.

I went to the desk that is in my room, opened my diary.

"Dear diary

It's day 1096 since he last came here, sad, I know

But, life has been good, I'm grateful anyways. After all, I cannot let a man be my whole entire life, can't I?

Life is better now, caspians happier, the kingdoms peaceful. But I always feel like there's.. Emptyness sometimes, couldn't see lucy laughing faces, susans overprotectiveness over Lucy, Peters funny little dance. But all that matters was edmund, the boy I loved.'

I sighed and closed the book. The book cover was brown and there was only a few pages left.

I looked up to the window, its daytime now, and I should probably go up. And so I did. "Lucy? Edmund? " I gasped

"Y/n" Said lucy and she ran and hugged me. "Lucy" I said and hugged her. After we let go, Edmund didn't move a muscle. He was just... There. I tried to not think of it.

Maybe he's just shocked.

we went down to discuss how they might be here.

"We didn't call you" I said

"Okay, so you want us to come back? " Said Edmund. He definitely changed, quite alot.

"No.. I didn't mean it that way.. " I said

"But how did we get here? " Said lucy

"I don't know, maybe we just need help of something we don't even know we need help of. Does that make sense? " I said

"No" Said Edmund, but at the same time Caspian and Lucy said yes.

When did he became, this? Sure he matured but, what?

"Uh, uhm that's alright" I said

Caspian explained why we're in this voyage at the first place but I can't help but overthink why and when Edmund became such an.. An asshole.

They all went out and so did I, though I was just following.

"Lucy, how many years has it been? " I asked

"Oh, only three" Said Lucy

"Oh, thats good, how is peter and susan?" I said

"They're fine, though we have to live with our, pain in the ass cousin, eustace" She sighed

"I don't know, seems like Edmund changed, a lot" I said

"He seems rude, I know, but he tried to move on from the whole 'narnia' thing, just like Susan, but deep down I know he still wants to be here" He said

"Wait, why does susan want to move on from narnia? " I asked, with pure confusion.

"Shes 'maturing' now, all she cares is boys, parties, lipstick, its honestly killing me" She said

"Oh, but what about pete-" I tried to say, but there was people shouting, probably the crew.

Caspian, saw an island, of course we couldn't go there by this big voyage, so we took small boats.

I sat next to edmund. I was quite nervous but, it's as if I didn't even know who he was, anymore.

"Ed, how are you? " I said

"Why do you care? " He said.

"Oh, I was just-" I said, but I paused "never mind"

We docked and we went off. I stood there, next to caspian. We followed caspian, and edmund told his cousin, Eustace, to guard.

As we went in, there was a book, though I didn't read it. There was a sudden,.

BANG!!

A man started to walk in, with Eustace being held.

He screamed, he freaked out.

They took caspian and edmund, and took Lucy, Eustace and I, to another place.

But before that, we witnessed a weird thing. A boat went in into this green fog. Then it disappeared.

I was scared, but then again, I couldn't do anything.

"This pretty little lady.. Who wants to buy her! " Said the man, grabbing Lucy.

Some guy, bought her.

Then, another guy bought eustace.

Then, me.

!!! Writing part 2 !!!

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jules-hoard-of-stuff · 2 years

Text

You know what?

Transitioning into a queer form of self that is not binary or what people expect is fundamentally different from binary transition, and that is something I don't think is talked about enough.

Now, binary transition itself HAS challenges. It's tough, from what I have seen/experienced having thought I was a binary trans man for a long time. And that's valid. This post is not about "binary transition NOT AS BAD" you know? Ok? It's about something else. This post is no longer about binary transition. We've gotten that out of the way, and we're not gonna talk about that. Long post under the cut. This is more me being fuckin. Angy. so don't mind me.

As someone transitioning into a queer form of self that, as I'm discovering, does not fit any linear path that gender roles set out for you, it's. It's got its unique challenges.

Internalized transphobia goes further than forcing yourself into the closet. It can be forcing yourself into the binary. I STILL do it, and I have trouble with it.

The very specific idea of what nonbinary looks like to society is so specific that it cuts out 99% of the queer community.

Our language, identities, presentation, and rights to ourselves are scrutinized even within the community. Some people think we shouldn't get the word Queer. It's one of the only words that works, after 10 years of trying to 'just figure it out'(said by both people inside and outside of the community). But I'm told I am not allowed to use it, as if there aren't other descriptors that have been used as slurs in the past. I'm told I'm an embarrassment to the queer community because I just. Don't want to lean one side or the other.

I'm constantly told everything about me is wrong. No WONDER I'm questioning everything, the cishet allos keep telling me I'm wrong and cis, the LGBTQ community keeps telling me I'm wrong and binary trans, and I'm.

I'm tired of it. ngl. I just wanna look like a cartoon character and live my life.

I like cute things. I like earrings and kandi bracelets and jewelry. I like bright colors and florals. I like plushies. I use they/he. I eventually wanna use xe/xem pronouns but am getting comfy with that and its taking a hot second. I take testosterone. My aesthetics are all jumbled. I like looking pretty. I like looking handsome. I love making things with my hands. I want to work out and be buff and strong. I sing in both high and low ranges. I want long hair. I want to be androgynous. I like boy things, girl things, in between things, and honestly?

It's a lot of contradiction. And I think that should be MY business whether that's right for me or not. I don't want anyone else's input on it anymore. They can make comments but it's none of their fucking business anymore.

I'm so tired of being poked and prodded at. I just want people to go "Oh! Okay!" And then respect me. Is that so hard to ask for?

#queer #do not tag as q slur I swear to fuck #rant #tired #I'm just so angry right now #I realized just now how much of it is bullshit that I'm constantly policing myself on being queer enough or binary enough #Just to make strangers happy #Like what the fuck me

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booksandwords · 1 year

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Dancing Lessons by R. Cooper

Read time: 1 Day Rating: 4.5/5 Stars

The Quote: “There are a lot of misconceptions about what it means to lead, where the man leads and the lady—or whoever—must follow.” Rafael stepped forward, flashing another smile when Chico immediately responded by stepping back and then to the side. “But that forgets that no one has to follow. It’s always the partner’s choice to keep dancing. If the person leading steps on your toes, steers you into the wall, turns you when you don’t want to be turned, then you can stop.” — Rafael Winters

Warnings: mentions of past emotional abuse

Dancing Lessons is the charming story of Rafael Winters and Francisco 'Chico "Nobody calls me Francisco but my mother and bill collectors."' Silva. Chico is pronounced in the way that shows his Portuguese heritage, Sheeco. The story is told entirely through Chico's eyes in varying degrees of flawed narration. As sometimes happens in R. Cooper's works there are some gorgeous life messages, advice and analogies. In this case that is obviously in the dances and ballet used. To be honest, there is a moment in Dancing Lessons that is going to haunt me. It shouldn't but it's a sign of exactly how emotionally invested I got in this novella. For me this is a 4.5-star book that I'm rounding up to 5, there are some concerns with pronouns for Davi. The female support cast is strong and fierce though only one is intimidating (as becomes her former career)

Chico Silva is new to the small largely holiday town of Brandywine. He is living with his cousin Davi, using it as a place to be himself again after a fairly shattering relationship and break-up. Honestly, he spent a large part of the story slowly breaking my heart. At 34 he is an emotionally broken man who just needs to heal. His touch starvation which I picked from the earliest pages was near devastating to read. R.Cooper may have used Chico as a slightly unreliable narrator but that allowed for the creation of deception leading to a moment I entirely didn't see coming in the middle somewhere that might haunt me. Also, Chico's unreliability is fully backed by his history and experiences. I think you can see the markers in the support cast.

Rafael Winters is exceptionally charming, attractive and endearing. His patience with both students and the emotionally wounded Chico is perfect. His love of teaching dance and dedication to his students shines. There is a revelation with him at one point that sounds like a joke but really isn't. The dance elements are so well intertwined. As a couple, I adore Chico and Raf. They have a style and chemistry to them that doesn't appear every day. Though the chemistry between Rafael and Chico is so sizzling it feels more like it belongs in the Latin ballroom rather than the slightly more structured waltz. The waltz still has the perfect meaning for them. The performance put on but the kids is a fantastic choice with its metaphor for their relationship. If the source material is real I will be reading it (I can't find it sadly).

The support cast is impressive. We never meet the dick, John aka, the gaslighting bastard, aka Chico's ex only hear about the damage he caused. Davi is the adorable trans cousin. Unfortunately, their pronouns are a tad inconsistent I think. They are fun though Chicos greatest cheerleader supporter and the biggest tattletale. The kids gave their own messages to send. Crushes, confidence and being overlooked. The maternal characters are both impeccably strong and fierce though only one is intimidating (as becomes her former career). Ruthie is fantastic for the little we see her, she reminds me of the librarian-type characters that Cooper often includes. There are two badass old queers, Ethal and Alonzo that help Chico build his confidence and see the light "“You’re not very bright, are you, sugarpuss?” Alonzo said as he petted the back of Chico’s hand. “You could make a man do anything.”" (Alonzo). But the strongest and most intimidating character is Elisabet Winters, Rafael's mother. She is a retired dancer and exceptionally fierce and demanding of her dancers. Most people run from her when she enters a room. But she loves her son, just wants him to be happy and she knows talent when she sees it. She acknowledges and encourages Chico's talent for delicate sewing. I really like her. More than expected.

Have some quotes

extended his hand in a graceful movement reminiscent of a Disney prince. — R. Cooper shows that way with words I know and love. That is such a brilliantly visual description. (Chico)

Chico was and always had been a small and fragile creature. He caught a glimpse of his wrist and wondered how it had felt when the dance instructor had held it to carefully pull Chico’s hand to his skin. No one should be that gentle in real life unless they were handling a newborn or trying to catch a ladybug. — Oh... That's pretty. And self-deprecating which just works for him. This is less that 10% of the way in, we know that there is something not quite... whole (💔😢) about Chico but it is hard to tell to what amount. (Chico)

“Davi hasn’t said anything except in response to what I asked after you arrived in town.” He put his hand out reassuringly when Chico froze. “Davi and I talk a lot. We’re neighbors. And Davi likes to say small town queers have to stick together.” — Yas Davi! 🌈 Davi is right. I like Davi's role in this relationship. Just stay out of it and be happy when your friend and cousin get their s**t together. (Rafael)

“I promise not to show you off in front of everyone again, cross my heart. Not unless you want me to.” “Oh God.” — Chico. You totally want that. And god your chemistry is made for dance. Given the first time they meet Chico is almost unwillingly used as a dance mannequin. But the gentle human contact to someone who is touchstarved is absolutely someone he wants. (Rafael and Chico)

“Especially your partner. Complementing them is about matching your movements to theirs, which means knowing them, noticing what their bodies are telling you about their mood and their intentions and their feelings. When you don’t do that, you’ll not only have a stiff, awkward dance, but you could actually cause damage. Don’t force anything. Just pay attention and try to make each other better. And for God’s sake, no showing off. You know who I’m talking to." — This is Raf talking to his teenage dance class. But you know what this could easily be an analogy for. Do I have a slightly dirty mind? Maybe. But this is R. Cooper and they write in such away that it leads you to think. (Rafael)

“I'm seriously considering ‘accidentally’ sticking you with a pin,” Chico told him as meanly as he knew how, which only meant Travis rolled his eyes again. “Doesn’t everyone, when dealing with Travis?” Rafael inquired from outside the door. Chico had partially closed the door to give Travis some privacy, although he hadn’t really gotten undressed. Travis calmly flipped his teacher off and seemed amused when he got the bird in return through the crack in the door. Rafael inquired from outside the door. Chico had partially closed the door to give Travis some privacy, although he hadn’t really gotten undressed. Travis calmly flipped his teacher off and seemed amused when he got the bird in return through the crack in the door. — This is just a moment. Travis is one of Raf's older students he has an atitude but really suits the role he's dancing. This is just fun Raf's dynamic with his students and Chico slipping so easily into an unextepect role. Coming out of that shell. (Chico and Rafael)

That’s not what I meant. I’m thinking about you. I’m anxious, and I’ll miss you; that’s what I’m trying to say. Someone ought to kick your ex in the balls. — This is a gem of a line. It is Raf speaking for the audience, most of whom had likely already decided John needed something unpleasant to happen to him. So... can we all please form an orderly queue to kick the ex-boyfriend in the junk? Preferably with steel caps on. (Rafael)

#r. cooper #dancing lessons #book review #ktreviews #read 2022 #tw domestic violence #spoilers on goodreads #booklr

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 3 years

Text

Signed, Childe

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Blood, minor injuries, painful memories, disassociation Idea and inspiration from @kirby-dalziel

~ * ~

You weren’t home that day. Errands had piled up, alongside your regular work. Technically it was one of your days off, but life went seemingly faster and faster in the past weeks. You had left Childe with a smile and a promise, a promise to be back later tonight with food and shopping. And he, so happy and thankful for all you’ve done, had nodded and purred as you went. And so he was alone, in your silent, empty house. He found ways to entertain himself- whether it be poking around curiously or sleeping the hours away. Most rooms were spacious, plenty large enough for him to nap comfortably, but your belongings also drew his attention and held it fast. Childe pokes his head into another room, one he hadn’t been in before. It had been a few months since you took him in, but he preferred to follow you when he could and leave the exploring to days you left the house. Shelves line the walls, packed to the brim with books of all sort, only breaking in line for a mirror propped up in a corner- a mirror that you had received as a gift and reluctantly hauled back home, with much muttering and questioning as to where you would put it. Evidently, you had shoved it in here and forgotten about it. Childe gingerly slips himself into the room, the carpet soft on his feet as his gaze traces the room, from the ceiling back down to the fluffy flooring. There was an open book laying there, perhaps in the middle of being repaired. Several pictures are pasted inside- a photo album, made possible by the kamera device recently brought from Fontaine. One lonely picture lays outside the book, waiting to be sealed within the pages. Childe, ever curious, gently picks up the delicate photograph, and blinks. It’s you. You and a man, smiling and laughing as he ruffles your hair. You look happy, joyful even as you pull on the man’s scarf as revenge. The picture is crisp and new, with only a few bends in the corners, yet you look years younger without the unseen weight you carry on your shoulders. Childe tilts his head, confused. It’s you, but who is he? The man is tall and dressed in clothes of red and gray, with a spot of bright blue that signifies a Hydro Vision. His fluffy ginger hair sticks up in all directions, accented by a barely noticeable streak of white. He looks so familiar, yet Childe has never seen him in the city before. Something presses at the back of Childe’s mind, but vanishes as soon as he tries to grasp it. Confusion steadily mounting, he flips the photo over and is met with a messy, cheerful scrawl. It’s addressed to you, cheekily giving you the picture as a gift and promising to get food once he sees you again. Signed, Childe. Childe? But the man isn’t Childe, he is Childe! That’s what you call him, apart from affectionate nicknames- Childe. Although you both knew he had three names- Childe, Tartaglia, and Ajax- and good things come in groups of three, you always tell him. But the more he looks at the photograph, the more he doubts. The man’s hair, it reminds Childe of his own. And the scarf resembles the one he wears, only smaller. He was cheeky once, he thinks, just as the man smiles and writes his note to you. The photo album has more, more pictures of you, surrounded by friends. And the mysterious, oh-so-familiar man, giving a closed eyed smile as Childe flips the pages. The book falls open to a photo, one with you accompanied by the man and his eyes open, as blue as the deepest sea. But lacking of any light. Childe’s hand pauses and hovers over the photograph. Lightless eyes, ocean blue… like the Abyss and its false starlight… Those are his eyes. Or they used to be, at least, he’s sure of it. He remembers laughing with you and teasing you, and how you first ignored it in favor of work but slowly warmed up to him and became a dear friend. More memories start to trickle in like sand, and he remembers. He remembers being human. He remembers the Fatui, the missions and bloodshed. He remembers the unlikely companions he made, and how he had to betray them. And as he remembers, he questions. Three names he was given, three names he has, different but all unmistakably him. Childe, the Fatui member. Tartaglia, the Harbinger. Ajax, the older brother. He had so many names. Had. But now, now. He was none of them, not even human. Who was he, the version of the man that had been corrupted by the Abyss and crawled out to trouble you? He had seen how problems weighed on you, how your happy, carefree smiles had become expressions of worry and concern. You fell asleep quickly, if only for the exhaustion you constantly felt. A teardrop falls on the photo in his trembling hands as the answer clears. He was a monster. A creature crafted from vengeful stars and darkness, like everything that came from the Abyss. A glint in the corner catches his eye, and he sees his horned, winged reflection in the mirror. With a desperate swipe of his claws it shatters, and he hisses in pain as glass embeds itself into his palms, leaking a dark, sticky liquid. His blood wasn’t even red anymore. The broken shards of mirror cast dancing light across the room, mocking him as his facade was reflected back again, only multiple times. The photo falls from his grasp as the glass crumbles more and more beneath him, settling as sharp bits of glittering dust. And he presses himself into the corner, head buried in his knees to muffle his sobs. Distorted, garbled sobs. The voice of a monster, someone who was not Childe, Tartaglia, or Ajax, but just a horrible legacy, corrupted and fouled by the Abyssal waves. The cuts on his hands sting but he simply curls them tighter, feeling the blood drip onto the stardust-covered carpet below. And the dim light of the room, interspersed by tiny pinpricks of light, also feels horribly familiar. The picture is long forgotten, a snapshot of time that he wishes so deeply that he could return to. An Abyss of his own making surrounds everything, and in the darkness, a monster cries.

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vampiredecay · 3 years

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Hey dear, i have a weird request but could you do a Lost boys X reader or Marko x reader Where all the boys (Marko Dwayne David paul Micheal all of them or just marko Dwayne David paul) see the reader re put bandages on his scar but the scars would be like carls in the walking dead and they see the scar ( i wonder how they would react to it?)

thank you so much for the request, sorry it took me a hot second to post! its longer than my other stories on here so far, so i hope that makes up for it. i also hope that you like what i did with it!! its angsty in the beginning but it gets fluffier <3

Scar Tissue

rating: teen

word count: 2,908

tags/warnings: swearing, mentions of being in pain, mentions of scars, mentions of being in the hospital, harassment, fluff, the boys being sweet, the lost boys x male!reader, male pronouns used, poly!lost boys

You could have never predicted how your life had gone so sideways. Not in a million years- before the accident, you were pretty much an average joe. Decent family, decent friends, decent existence. Nothing was ever really exciting, but you were okay with that. Life didn’t need to be crazy or unpredictable to be fulfilling.

But, you supposed, the price of being a living being on this Earth was that life could never truly be predictable at all. It couldn’t be, with the events that followed you losing your eye, and pretty much all normalcy you grew to live with.

It was extremely painful at first, physically and emotionally. You had lost a vital part of your body, and you could never get it back. It was disorienting, and uncomfortable, like an itch you could never scratch. The skin around your eye was incredibly sensitive, the lightest movement or touch sending shockwaves of burning pain through your nerves. Tears were always on the brink of spilling over anytime you or a doctor had to replace medicine and bandages to keep the wound clean.

In the end, the pain wasn’t the worst part about it. No, you could deal with the pain. The people in your life, however, suddenly changing and disappearing was way, way worse.

Friends slowly stop coming to visit you at the hospital, calls go unanswered, gazes averted. Your parents supported you, of course. They still loved you, and you knew nothing could change that. But sometimes even they got this look in their eyes, something a little too close to pity.

It was an incredibly lonely first couple of months.

But the loneliness and the heartache slowly healed, along with your eye. The scarring lightened and stopped bleeding, and your skin no longer felt as if it was on fire every time you turned your head. You still had to keep it under wraps, to keep out infection, and to keep other people from seeing how bad it was. You knew that people seeing the bandages would cause looks and questions, but it was better than people actually seeing the wound, which would surely cause reactions that you didn’t have the patience to deal with.

As you were healing, you were also relearning how to do things in your daily life. Your sight and depth perception drastically changed, so things like walking and doing simple tasks had to be practiced all over again. You had to take things slow, which you hated, you couldn’t leave the house very often until you got used to walking without bumping into things.

The first place you wanted to go once you were able to was the boardwalk. It was one of your favorite places in the world, so loud and full of life and happiness. It was absolutely what you needed after all of the hardship you had to deal with lately.

So one night, when it got late and your parents turned in for the night, you went out and caught a bus to the nearest stop to the boardwalk. From there you walked until you saw the bright lights and heard loud screaming and chatter and laughter. You smiled as you took in the sight of the people and the games and the rides, it felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

The first thing you did was buy a big thing of cotton candy and a soda, roaming the boardwalk and consuming sugary goodness. As you walked, you noticed that some people were giving you looks, but you ignored them, focused on just having a good time and living your best life.

Walking around for long periods of time still gave you a bit of trouble, you were starting to get a little dizzy, so after a bit you sat down on a bench to give your brain time to catch up with the rest of your body. This was nice too, you got to relax and just watch people for a bit. There were all sorts of people out tonight, families and tourists and couples, teenagers and surf nazis and locals, all in one spot, the heart of Santa Carla, enjoying the wonders it had to offer.

There was a group of guys that caught your eye, though. You didn’t mean to stare at them; in fact, you knew not to, you’ve seen them around the boardwalk in the past, and heard the rumors surrounding them. But, in your defense, it has been a while since you’ve been there, and you forgot how magnetic they can be.

They were milling near their motorbikes, smoking and talking and lightly harassing anyone that happened to walk by. Three blondes and two brunettes- had there always been five of them? You could have sworn there was only four- all dressed in black and leather, looking dangerous and infuriatingly hot. You would have noticed more, but by accident you make eye contact with one of the guys and you rip your attention away from them.

Shit, god damnit, you’ve been spotted now. There’s only one thing to do, and it’s to walk quickly away and hope you don’t run into them later.

You get up too quickly though, and you stumble straight into a man walking with who you assume to be his girlfriend.

“Hey! Watch it-” He starts to say, pissed off that someone ran into him, but then he takes a good look at you and lets out a laugh. “Oh, I guess you really can’t, huh?”

The girlfriend lets out a giggle, smirking behind a hand over her lips. You mumble out an apology and try to go around them, but the man blocks your path. “What was that? C’mon man I can’t hear you, you mute too or something?”

You look up at him and scoff, anger building inside you. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Without thinking, you say “Yeah, real funny and original. Bet lines like that really score you in bed.”

There’s some laughter around you, making you realize that a crowd has been drawn. The man’s face turned bright red, his mouth curved downward into a frown and he got up in your space. “Oh, so you’re a tough guy now, huh?” He pushed you in the chest, making you stumble back. You get dizzy and almost fall, but you don’t hit the ground. Instead, your back hits someone's chest. You freeze, then slowly turn your head, to see a guy with spiky platinum blond hair staring at the man who pushed you. The four other guys with him were also there, glaring at the crowd of people just watching.

You turned to look back at the man who pushed you, all the color was drained from his face. His girlfriend was clutching his arm, trying to pull the man away but his feet were glued in place. The blond behind you smirked.

“There a problem here?”

The silence that swept over was deafening and unnatural, it was like all of the boardwalk was holding its breath waiting for an answer. The man swallowed, eyes gliding over the gang behind you, not focusing on one spot. “N-No, man. No problem.”

You let out a breath as you watch the man and his girlfriend back up, and the crowd starts to disperse. The man behind you gives a shark-like grin and chuckles deep. “Wonderful.” He says, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away. You can hear your heart thundering in your chest as you walk away with them, listening as they laugh and push each other.

“N-No m-man, n-no p-problem!” One of the blonds says in a mocking wavering tone, “What a fuckin pussy!” The gang starts laughing again, it feels like the ground underneath your feet is rumbling from the force of it. After a little more walking, they stop in front of a different bench and gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a load off, little man!” You snorted as you sat down, grinning despite the slight lightheadedness. Two of the blonds sat next to you, one with a wild mane of hair and a smile to match swinging an arm behind you. You look at all of them, nodding your head a little bit. “Thank you,” You said softly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The spiky blond shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said, and he nodded. “I’m David. This is Dwayne, Michael,” He gestured to the two brunettes, one with curly hair and sunglasses hanging off his shirt, the other with longer straight hair and not wearing a shirt at all. “And that’s Paul and Marko.” The two blonds next to you do little waves, the one that wasn’t right next to you has curly hair and a jacket so cluttered with patches it must be heavy.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N!” Paul says, nudging his knee against yours, making you smile more. “It’s good to meet you guys, too.”

After the introductions were out of the way, David offered for you to hang out with them, but you declined, saying you needed to get home. At that David offered a ride instead. You hesitated, but accepted in the end. Riding behind him on his bike was terrifying and exhilarating, you clutched his middle tightly the whole way home, but the blond didn’t seem to mind.

“You should come to the boardwalk more often,” David said as you got off his bike, now at your house. He smiled at you like he was letting you in on a secret, “We’re there all night.”

From that point on, you couldn’t ignore the boy's siren call. The next couple days you would take the bus over, wander until you found them, and then do stupid shit with them all night. A lot of it consisted of them terrorizing people who even looked at them funny, but you didn’t find it scary anymore. You found it powerful. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It wasn’t long, though, until the questions started. You supposed you should have seen it coming, but hanging out with them honestly made you forget.

“So Y/N,” Paul said one night, it was just you and him and Marko. You were leaning against the railing in front of the carousel, waiting for the others to get back from getting food. When you looked over at Paul, he asked “What’s up with the eye?”

Marko punched Paul's shoulder, giving him a look, and Paul threw his hands up dramatically. “What? I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious.”

You sighed a little bit, mulling over what to say. You weren’t mad that he asked, you just hated talking about it. “There’s nothing much to say.” You said after a couple seconds of silence. “I was in an accident. Got fucked up. End of story.” Paul and Marko both nodded, taking the hint not to ask anymore. The taller blond wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head. A silent apology. You smiled a little and leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

After that, David, Dwayne and Michael arrived back with food, and once everyone settled down at a nearby table to eat, David proposed that they go back to their place after eating. You were nervous to accept, but they were cool guys so far, so you didn’t see the harm in it.

Before you could voice your opinion, however, a sudden cold, wet substance suddenly splashed all over your face. You yelped and got up, trying to shake off whatever the fuck it was, when you heard laughter getting distant. Suddenly, the boys were all getting up and shouting, someone was holding onto your shoulders, and when you wiped at your eye you could see it was Dwayne. He looked absolutely livid.

“What the fuck just happened?” You asked, looking down at yourself, disgusted to find that your clothes were soaked now too. The brunette gripped your shoulders a little tighter, not enough to hurt but the pressure was there, “Some people have a death wish.”

You would have asked him to elaborate, but then something dawned on you. “Oh shit!” You exclaim, hand going up to your bandaged eye. “Fuck, I have to get home, I have to change this, fuck!” Dwayne's eyes widened a little, and he nodded, calling attention to the other boys, who were all talking angrily to each other. They all looked over, and when they heard that you needed to change your bandage, they all hurried over. “Our place is closer. Michael, take Y/N to get the supplies he needs. We’ll meet back up at the hotel.” David all but commanded, and everyone seemed to be in agreement. The rest of the boys took off on their bikes while Michael steered you in the direction of a small convenience store on the edge of the boardwalk.

“You okay?” Michael asked, worry written all over his face. You nodded at him, though in reality you were feeling gross, sticky and anxious as hell. You thought it was so nice of them to help you out, really, but you knew this meant that they would probably end up seeing your eye. Seeing your scars. The thought alone was enough to make you slightly nauseous. The brunette could tell that something more was going on with you, so he gently took your hand as you approached the shop. You looked at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your hand gently. You gave a light smile back and looked away.

After buying the necessary wrap, tape and some bottles of water, you both get on Michaels bike and ride off to their place. You were just thinking about it now, David had said the word “hotel”. Did they stay at an actual hotel?

It didn’t take you long to figure out. When you arrived at the hotel, that was really more of a cave, you were in absolute awe of the place. It was massive and beautiful, you couldn’t believe these guys actually lived here. You had so many questions, but now that you were here, they would have to come after.

Michael led you over to a slightly dusty couch and you sat down, holding the items in your hands nervously. Everyone was sitting around you, you had a very attentive audience that you didn’t really want.

“Is there, uh, a private place I could do this?” You asked, and your heart sank when they shook their heads. “Most of the rooms collapsed when the earthquake hit. There’s not much left, and the parts that remain are too dangerous to go into.” Marko explained, and you sighed. You supposed there was no getting around it.

“Okay, well. Just, don’t say anything, okay?” You got out the bandage wrap from its packaging and took a deep breath. Slowly, you unwrapped the dirty bandage from around your face, revealing your eye to the boys.

All of their facial expressions changed, some more surprised than others. David looked the least shocked, eyes of steel trained on your face, just looking. Dwayne and Michael looked a little more concerned, Michael especially, but otherwise they tried to keep their expressions neutral. Paul and Marko looked intrigued, if anything. Like they wanted to ask questions but were reigning themselves in.

Overall, they kept quiet, and they didn’t shy away from your appearance, so you counted your blessings as you cleaned and dressed your eye as quickly as possible. When you were all finished, Marko and Paul launched themselves at you, sitting next to you with wide smiles on their faces.

“Dude! You’re so badass!” Paul shouted, and Marko was quick to agree. “You should get an eyepatch or something. Crank up the badass factor.”

You laughed at their antics, blushing a bit at their words. You could tell that they really thought you were actually cool. It warmed your chest and you smiled as they went on about eyepatch ideas.

Eventually, David dragged the two away, saying it's getting late and they should probably take you home now. You nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. You didn’t realize just how tired you were.

Dwayne was the one who ended up taking you home, the ride was a lot gentler and smoother than it usually was, which you were grateful for. When you arrived at your house, and you got off his bike, Dwayne pulled on your arm before you could leave. You looked at him, confused, but then he got off his bike, and he stood in front of you, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You froze, heart pounding. Dwayne pulled away and let go, giving you a small smile. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard as he got back on his bike. “Yeah- you too.” You stumbled out, making him chuckle. He then rode back off into the night, and you were left stunned on your front lawn.

You didn’t know what would happen now, you had absolutely no clue when it came to the gang of bikers. But you found yourself at peace with it.

Life could never be predictable anymore. And you were more than okay with that.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #david x reader #dwayne x reader #marko x reader #paul x reader #male!reader #poly!lostboys #lost boys fics #decay fic tag #requested

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Ch. 3

18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Shigaraki x Dabi (just this part), Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader (very brief and vague reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut and feels, it's literally just smut, blow jobs, friends(?) with benefits, blow jobs, anal fingering, light degradation (both for shigs and reader), could maybe be interpreted as slight dubcon, dirty talk, slutty dabi, dabi is an asshole, so is tomura, reader has gender neutral pronouns, I'm keeping it fem cause Shigs hates women and calls them that

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which the boys share in some good ole roommate bonding activities and Tomura has a blow job induced epiphany.

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged and make sure to check my rules!)

Dabi’s mouth was wet and so fucking warm as he swallowed around Tomura’s dick.

“Oh fuck…” he groaned as Dabi hummed around his length and did that thing where he flicked the ball of his tongue ring over Tomura’s slit.

Bright blue eyes stared up through deceptively long lashes, smirking at the way Tomura drooled as he got his soul sucked out the tip of dick. The mattress underneath him creaked despite the negligible weight of both their bodies. Dabi settled on his stomach between Tomura’s pale thighs leaving fingerprint bruises in soft flesh.

They did this sometimes, though he wasn’t quite sure when exactly it started. Dabi had been his randomly assigned roommate freshman year and he grew so used to living with him that the two of them had just silently, yet mutually agreed not to fuck something up that wasn’t broken. They both berated each other for their strange and somewhat disgusting habits—Dabi would say that Tomura was a gross shut-in creep who needed a fucking shower and Tomura called Dabi out on his slutty pastimes and obsession with piercing the hell out of every available inch of skin.

And sometimes they sucked each other off.

It was overall not a terrible arrangement—Dabi got his fill of dick and Tomura could no longer be made fun of for being completely inexperienced. Plus, as much as he was loathe to admit, Dabi was really fucking good at oral. Like, demonically good. He’d been going down on Tomura for so long now too that he’d learned all the things that had him spilling onto that pierced tongue in minutes.

Tomura jerked from his thoughts when two, lube slicked fingers prodding at his ass.

“Dabi, what the fuck are you—” he protested, wiggling his scrawny hips up the bed and inadvertently letting his cock slip out of the inviting heat between his roommate’s lips.

He couldn’t see much other than the shaking mop of black hair and pale hands with chipped black nail polish digging into his legs, yanking him back.

“Shut up freak,” Dabi slurred, words slick with spit and Tomura’s precum. Dabi said it tasted like battery acid, but it never stopped him from guzzling it like he did with cheap whiskey and cigarettes on the weekends. “I know you like it.”

He did like it, but Tomura wasn’t about to contribute to the fucking evil grin Dabi was giving him as he circled the tight ring of muscle, slipping in a finger to the first knuckle.

Tomura’s head flopped back on the pillows as he bit back a low moan, “Fuck off.”

“If you say so,” Dabi shoved his finger in roughly, squeezing a second in behind it and letting Tomura bask in the burn of being stretched too quickly before ripping his hands away.

“No!” Tomura wailed pretty fucking shamelessly and grabbed the retreating wrist, placing Dabi’s tatted hand back on his dick that throbbed and leaked painfully.

“Dude, what’s gotten the fuck into you?” his roommate asked, smirking still, but pumping Tomura's cock loosely nonetheless. “Our walls are thin as hell, you know I can hear you jerkin' it in here every night, and now you’re practically begging for me to suck you off. Usually I gotta come to you.”

He was infuriatingly right again.

Tomura had indeed asked for him to do this, which was definitely out of character for him. Most of the time when they ended up in this position, it was because Dabi spent hours hounding him about it or just fucking dropped to his knees and whipped Tomura’s cock out in the middle of a movie night or snuck into his room while Tomura was gaming and swallowed him whole just to laugh at the way his online friends reacted to the noises.

He’s just been so pent up lately, and you insisting on fucking touching his arm or sitting on the floor between his feet at League meetings was really not helping it.

“I don’t know,” Tomura lied, both to Dabi and himself in the hopes that the head of black hair would just go back to bobbing on his dick like he so desperately needed it to.

“Bro, I have fucked with enough people to know when they’re wishing I was someone else,” Dabi scoffed and ran a blessedly hot tongue from base to tip and suckled softly at the blush pink head before pulling back with a wet pop. “So who is it?”

“I’m not fucking thinking about anyone,” Tomura hissed, fisting Dabi’s spiky, black locks and thrusting into his mouth till he felt the contractions of Dabi gagging around his length. “Usually you're jumping at the chance to get dick in your mouth, so why does it matter?”

Dabi pulled back, wiping the silvery string of spit leaking past his lips away and scowling as his fingers ghosted over Tomura’s balls and sank back into his pliant ass.

“Seriously creep, I’m five seconds away from ghosting and you can fuck your hand like the sad little bitch you are. So tell me their name or I’m walking right now.”

Tomura huffed as he felt Dabi’s long, rough fingers pulled from him again and the heat of his mouth growing farther away.

“Ugh fine, it’s that bitch I’ve been working on the English thing with.”

Dabi made a face like his brain was buffering.

“Seriously?” he asked, mouth gaping in a way that had Tomura even more furious his dick wasn’t buried in it.

“Yes!” he shouted and grabbed Dabi’s cheeks in both hands, sinking past his waiting lips and practically purring when he felt them close around the base as his long tongue massaged the shaft. “Oh god yes…”

Dabi rolled his eyes, managing to look smug even with a cock stretching his lips taught against the piercings. He used to try and tease Tomura about how small his dick was, but it was hard to believe him. Especially with how he choked sometimes when Tomura got rough with him despite his boasts of lacking a gag reflex. Not to mention how he looked now, jaw probably aching with the stretch and loving every second of it.

Tomura lazily bucked his hips up and whined high when the fingers in his ass curled and thrust against that fucking spot he hadn’t known was there until Dabi found it for him.

The pleased sound he made tapered off into a growl though, when his roommate with questionable benefits pulled off again to run his slutty fucking mouth.

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled, kitten licking at Tomura’s cock and running the ball of his piercing through the slit again. Tomura gulped when he pulled it back into his mouth to swallow the bead of precum he’d collected. “I’ve seen your fucking paramour around before, pretty serious about school though. And kinda out of your league too, not gonna lie. So, what would you do if your cute little partner was here instead?”

Tomura bristled at the insult but couldn’t keep his pissed off look when Dabi went back to sucking his cock like a pro and curling those fucking fingers against his prostate. When he did speak, he blushed hard at the way his voice cracked and sounded like he was crying.

“I don’t fucking—holy shit—know,” he gasped and Dabi hummed both to egg him on and to get a whole new wave of precum gushing out of Tomura’s dick.

“C’mon man,” Dabi groaned, and Tomura distinctly heard the sound of a pants zipper and felt Dabi’s hips canting against the sheets.

That fucking masochistic whore. He would get off to Tomura dirty talking about someone else while he sucked his dick.

He considered stopping the whole thing right there, but then Dabi was sinking a third finger into his ass and thrusting hard while he hallowed his cheeks around Tomura’s cock and sucked—

“Tits!” Tomura cried and covered his burning, red cheeks with his hands. “I want to put my fucking face in them and taste them in my mouth. Sometimes I can see the outline of their nipples when we’re working and the air conditioning comes on and I want to suck on them so fucking bad I can’t think about anything else the whole night.”

Once he got started, Tomura found the words just spilled from him like a dam had burst. Dabi, the depraved bastard, groaned loud and ground his pierced dick harder against the mattress as he continued to deepthroat Tomura’s cock and fuck his ass at that perfect angle.

“Sometimes when they drag me to their stupid club I lose the rounds cause I—oh god, oh fuck—just imagine them in my lap, sitting on my cock and fucking writhing and squeezing me while we face off. Such a fucking—Dabi more!—stereotypical try-hard, bitch but I want to be inside them so fucking bad,” he felt actual tears stinging the raw corners of his eyes when Dabi sped up on his dick.

Tomura scrapped his nails against Dabi’s scalp, holding on for dear life as his breathing became even more ragged than usual. His friend’s cruelty streak reared its ugly head as Dabi sensed the tensing of Tomura’s balls and the clench of his tight ass and slowed down a fraction, keeping him teetering on the edge of an explosively pleasurable release.

“Fucking asshole,” he growled, but didn’t dare try to fuck Dabi’s face lest he make good on his threat to leave Tomura high and dry. “I just—shit, ah, don’t stop—they talk to me sometimes and I just wanna suck their tongue into my mouth so they shut up and I need to hear them fucking falling apart or using that stupid, stuck up teacher voice on me and fucking my ass—Dabi Fuck—is that what you wanted to hear?”

Dabi, because he got off on being a little shit, gave him one last delicious swallow before pulling back and fisting Tomura’s sopping wet cock. The fingers had stopped thrusting and were now pressed hard against his prostate, sending shocks through his body and making him twitch violently as his blood rushed with endorphins. He never stopped grinding his own dick against Tomura’s cotton sheets the whole time.

“You got it bad huh, don’t ya creep,” he mused, letting a fat glob of spit fall from his lips and keep his palm slick. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about fucking anything, much less another actual person.”

“No I fucking don’t, “ Tomura writhed against the pillows, giving in to the undeniable urge to simultaneously fuck up into Dabi’s hand and ride his fingers.

“Who knew you were such a desperate whore, falling for the first person to show you a modicum of attention,” Dabi jeered and squeezed the tip of his dick hard, listening to Tomura let out a choked sob. “I’m actually kinda proud of you, bro. My little incel baby’s growing up.”

Dabi cooed at Tomura, sinking sharp teeth deep into the meat of his thigh and sucking a bruise into the flesh.

“You’re the one—nghh—getting off on it,” Tomura clapped back but didn’t bother denying it again.

There was a sense of dread growing in his gut alongside the mounting pleasure of his orgasm that Dabi was currently holding hostage. Dabi may have had a dickish personality just as massive as the actual dick that was currently painting his comforter in stains, but he knew Tomura.

And he did, admittedly have much more experience with these types of things.

“Fuck yeah I am,” Dabi grunted. “Last time I let you return the favor you bit my fucking cock. I gotta get off somehow.”

“Don’t say rude shit to me and I won’t bite you.”

“Watch it, Tomura,” Dabi huffed and nipped at his thigh again. “You should be thanking me for my services.”

“Not if you’re gonna keep running your mouth instead of sucking me off,” he tried to sound intimidating but he was well and truly wrecked and couldn’t find the energy to give his words an edge.

“You should ask them out,” Dabi continued, ignoring the failed attempts at banter. “Bring ‘em over or some shit. Maybe then if I lock down that blonde piece of ass I’ve been talking to, we’ll both have much more interesting things to go down on.”

“Your whore ass is the one always jumping me, don’t act like it’s a fucking chore,” Tomura groaned as Dabi started licking at his cock again, pressing sloppy, half kisses on the tip as he jerked it in his fist.

“Not my fault I get bored sometimes,” he replied and closed his eyes as Tomura clenched particularly hard around Dabi’s relentless fingers. “But seriously, you should go for it. I’d kill to find out if you’re just as bad at eating pussy as you are sucking dick.”

“Fuck y—” Tomura started to say when Dabi reared up till they were chest to chest and their foreheads knocked together.

“I fucking will if you don’t shut up, creep, and I think it’d be so much better if you handed your fucking virginity to that pretty little partner bitch instead,” he said and stunned Tomura into silence when he licked into his mouth.

Dabi had kissed him before, but Tomura could count the number of occasions on one hand and almost all had been when his punk ass roommate was drunk as hell and in his feels about some tortured past. But Dabi’s eyes were bright and lucid now, blinking down at Tomura as he dragged their tongues together, flooding his mouth with the faint taste of cigarettes and jizz.

Their cocks brushed together too, the stimulation making Tomura whine into Dabi’s lips, who dropped a merciful hand down, taking them both in his fist and began pumping.

He didn’t stop as he pulled back, grinning down at Tomura like a fucking maniac—all shitty tattoos and silver piercings. The little barbels that stuck through Dabi’s nipples brushed against his own and made him moan at the cool metal and hot skin on his sensitive chest. Tomura was fucking sensitive everywhere, as Dabi had helped him discover, probably from a lifetime of being touched more by cheap sweatshirts than human hands.

“Now,” Dabi grunted as he thrust loosely against Tomura’s cock and his own fist before pulling away to settle back between his legs. “Shut up and cum down my throat—gotta give your virgin ass a refresher on mind shattering orgasms, so you know if that bitch is any good or not.”

Tomura’s tongue was halfway around a witty comeback when Dabi swallowed him to the hilt once again and started working his ass even harder. He really fucked hoped the neighbors were not home to hear him get his shit rocked at 2pm on a fucking Tuesday, cause Dabi might have been flunking out of his classes but he’d get a goddamn A plus for sucking dick.

The hand on his thigh, spreading him open, migrated to his hip so that Tomura could snap his legs shut hard around Dabi’s ring littered ears as he guided Tomura to grind down on his hand. The pressure in his gut built up exponentially higher now that Dabi wasn’t trying to hold him on the edge of climax. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to acquiesce to Dabi’s request, as he tightened up in a full body clench before gripping Dabi’s hair and spilling rope after rope of hot, sticky release straight onto his roommate’s tongue.

Dabi, the fucking slut, made a show of swallowing every drop that spilled from Tomura’s abused cock, milking his prostate the whole time and only letting Tomura slip from his mouth when he was soft and finally spent.

The fingers in his ass remained though, still for the most part and slowly dipping in and out every so often. Tomura whimpered and clenched but was somewhat thankful for the remaining feeling of fullness.

“So, did you really mean all that?” Dabi asked with his signature smirk. “You really want your group project partner to cockwarm you and fuck your tight little ass?”

“Fuck off,” Tomura scowled and smacked Dabi hard across the face with an errant pillow.

Dabi yanked it from his grasp and tossed his ammunition onto the floor. “Hey, it’s not actually too bad in here,” he wiggled his fingers for emphasis which elicited an embarrassingly high gasp from Tomura, “give ‘em my number if you need a reference for asshole tightness.”

“Get the fuck out of my ass and my room,” Tomura kicked at Dabi’s back as it shook with laughter that lacked it’s usual jeering bite.

“What? Saving the cuddles for your new S/O?” he shot back, nuzzling his cum and spit covered face into Tomura’s neck.

With their chests pressed together, Tomura could feel the cooling, sticky remnants of Dabi’s own release coating his stomach. He squirmed against the sensation and pushed at the offending chest until his friend flopped down onto the scant space left between the mattress and the wall.

“Ew,” Tomura ran a finger through the mess Dabi had left smeared on him. “I’m taking a fucking shower.”

“God, finally!” Dabi exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and producing a cigarette from god knows where. He let the paper rest between his lips unlit. “I should have thought about getting you fucked out on the reg earlier, creep, if it’ll stop you smelling like ass.”

Tomura launched the discarded pillow which hit it’s mark with a dull thump.

“You better be fucking gone when I get back,” he hissed and stumbled naked, on shaking legs into the hall and to their shared bathroom.

Dabi’s cackling followed him until the door shut and the lock clicked behind him.

Tomura turned the water on quickly, letting steam cloud the mirror before he jumped under the spray. The only products on the shelves were Dabi’s for the most part with the exception of a store brand bar of soap and some 3 in one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

Tomura knew he should clean himself more often, but his skin was so fucking raw all the time it hurt to do, so he mostly avoided it unless the smell got really unbearable—or Dabi was painting him in jizz whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He tried to get in and out as quickly as possible so he didn’t have the opportunity to think too hard about the admission his fuck buddy roommate had pulled from him mid blow job. Because if he did—in his post nut, clingy state—he’d most certainly imagine you were with him, tits pressed against his back and your soft, insistent tongue dipping past his lips, tasting like fruit gum and expensive cafe drinks instead of nicotine and cum.

And he really couldn’t handle that. Cause Dabi was right, he had something fucking bad for you and the thought of another rejection loomed large.

When he did towel himself off and shuffle, still naked back into his bedroom Dabi was nowhere to be seen. Tomura’s phone however, was left sitting right next to the jizz stain on his sheets. He frowned at the open balcony door where Dabi was no doubt smoking and snatched the device before tumbling onto the pillows.

He powered it on and scrolled through his notifs before one caught his eyes. You and Dabi were really the only people that ever texted him, but the contact name above this one had changed.

bitch (endearing)

— hey, starting an impromptu round of Smash soon if you’re interested <3

The stupid text heart made his chest throb and he stared at Dabi’s new nickname for you, not even noticing the fucking grin that tugged at his cheeks.

He bit his lip to stop the twitching when it pulled too hard at the chapped skin and scrambled for his clothes before shooting a quick confirmation text back. Tomura opted for his only pair of black jeans this time instead of sweats and the least stained sweatshirt he owned.

Dabi peaked around the corner when he heard the clink of Tomura’s keys. The bastard was smoking in just a pair of underwear that left half his ass on display for all the whole fucking street. He smirked, quirking his eyebrows and bringing his hands up to slip his index finger through the circle he made on the other hand in a silent, vulgar gesture.

“Screw off,” Tomura shouted over his shoulder and made for the door.

“Wrap it before you tap it, bro!” Dabi called after him, cut off by the subsequent slamming.

Tomura took the stairs two at a time, pulling out his phone and tucking the hood over his damp hair, this time to hide the growing smile playing at his lips.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x dabi #shigaraki x dabi #shigadabi #bee.writes

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echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Number 22 off the prompt list with echo or fives with he/him pronouns 😳😳 pls and thank you 🙏🏽

Missing You

Ahh this would be so cute with Echo. May or may not be biased because— I love him with all my heart, but since you offered you get Echo. You are a medic in this because, uh yeah I am SO creative. But anyways, Echo calls you Doc because I dunno how to use cooler nicknames.

Echo x Male!Reader: “I remember practicing to ask you out in the mirror.”

Warnings: It is a little sad because I am kind of in my feels rn. It has its fair share of happy stuff though, don’t worry.

You were a medic, that often worked along side Kix in the Medbay. The first time you and Echo met he was in with a blaster shot to the leg. It wasn’t anything that you couldn’t help in healing, though. Taking over for Kix as he tended to one of his other brothers.

You were calm and collected. Starting conversation with the man to distract him from the pain as you disinfected and then patched up his wounds. Eyes flickering up to look to him when he would wince and tense up. Though he gave you a look that said, ‘I’m fine, keep going.’ So you did.

Echo always requested to have you helping him. Claiming that you were more gentle than his brother was. Which you were, in some ways, but honestly he just wanted an excuse to hear your voice. To be near you. After a few visits, he would start looking for you when he knew you weren’t working. Go out of his way to walk with you to your quarters, or to the mess. Or to wherever you were going. It made your day. You absolutely loved it. He was so kind, and thoughtful. He listened to you, let you talk, and even shared stories with you on the days that you weren’t really in the mood to hold a solid conversation.

But now? Now that was all gone. Now you wouldn’t be seeing him in the medbay, or the mess, or bump into him in the halls. You wouldn’t be able to sit in your quarters with him and eat some of the snacks you snuck in for him from the last mission that you were needed out on the field. He wasn’t able to bring you trinkets from the planets that he visited. None of that was able to happen again. All you had was your memories.

Your damned memories that seemed to be slowly fading after months went by without him. You were beginning to forget how he laughed. Sure his brothers shared the same laugh, but something about his was unique. You were beginning to forget little details, and it upset you more than anything. The others in the 501st could tell, too. They all knew you and Echo were close. Even Fives could see that the two of you wanted to be more than friends. It wasn’t rocket science. So, the moment Rex found out that Echo could be alive. He made it his mission to not only save him for Echo, but for you as well.

Echo wasn’t the only trooper that loved your smile and your kind heart. So he hoped if he got him back for you. Even the closure of his body, then it would finally put you at ease.

You weren’t told about any of this. Not until you heard troopers talking about how they found a POW. You were curious, to say the least. Finding one of the shines that was talking about it with his brothers. “Who was the prisoner?” You asked with a brow raised. You had lost so many men, so many friends after Echo, that you never believed it would be him. Though a piece of you, deep down. Screamed and shouted in hopes that they would say his name or number.

“An Arc Trooper, sir, went by the name of Echo. They’re bringing him back here with Clone Force 99.” The shiny informed you, and you felt your heart stop. Your eyes were darting around. Breathing picking up a bit, this was a joke, wasn’t it? It had to be. Rushing off past the men to find someone to fill you in on what in stars name was happening.

You sooner or later ended up getting a hold of General Skywalker. He could tell you were distressed. “What sort of sick joke is this?” You spat, starting in before Anakin could even get a word in. “The shinies are talking about how Echo is alive? That’s impossible. I was there when the explosion happened, he’s not, why are they saying this?” You were on the verge of tears as you paced your quarters. Running your hands through your hair. “Oh, he’s alive alright. Why don’t you come outside?” He spoke with a smirk. Anakin knew about your feelings for Echo, and you knew he didn’t mind. He was supportive, even. Anakin always treated you like the little brother he never had, and told you to go for it a number of times. Though you never did, and you greatly regret it.

“Y/n, just come outside and see for yourself.” You were brought back to the conversation. Biting your bottom lip and hanging up on the general. Rushing out the door and down the hall. Until you were exiting the hanger and finding a group of people gathered around.

Your stomach was turning. Heart pounding in your chest. Then the world felt like it froze when you saw him. He was talking with a group that you knew had to be Clone Force 99. You knew it had to be Echo, his armor didn’t match theirs. He looked like a clone, at least. If it was, he looked horrible. But not in a way that you still didn’t want him just as bad as you did nearly a year ago.

You were stuck in place, waiting for him to turn, and when he did. His eyes fell on you. His expression dropped, and he froze up as well. “Cyare..” You watched his lips mouth. Your eyes tearing up, it was him. It was Echo. Your Echo.

You started with a fast walk, and then a jog over to the other. Him moving towards you nearly just as fast. The two of you extending your arms and then engulfing one another in a hug. Something the two of you missed more than you could both remember. “Echo, I- Are you okay? oh my force I’ve missed you so much-“ You sobbed as you burried your face in his neck and he rested his forehead on your shoulder. “I’ve missed you so much, too, Doc, not a day went by I didn’t think about you.” He murmured, and that made the dam break. Tears falling from your eyes in streams.

You were at a loss for words, the two of you holding onto one another for what felt like forever, but honestly it wasn’t long enough. “You’ve changed your hair?” He muttered, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair with his good hand. It was longer than the last time the two of you saw each other. “You changed yours, too.” You murmured. Reaching up and running your fingers over the top of his head. Causing the two of you to snicker a bit.

You both parted slightly so Echo could rest his forehead on your own. His eyes, unlike his skin. Were still bright and had some life in them. Your hand falling to cup his face with a small smile. “Y/n?” You raised your brows a bit. His voice was soft, and stars you missed him saying your name. You missed his voice in general. “Yeah?” You spoke in a near whisper. Shuddering a bit as his hand ran to cup the back of your neck.

He looked nervous. Eyes darting to the side and then back to yours. Gulping, even. “Echo, what is it?” You asked again, and he sighed. “I know, I just got back, but I don’t wanna waste my chance, not now, not ever. Never again,” You stared at him, creasing your brows. What was he saying? “I want to take you on a date, just the two of us, I don’t know where, but.. Kriff, Y/n I like you, and I have since the first time I met you. I maybe even love you, you were what kept me going, you kept me fighting. Because I knew you would be there when I got back. Even if you got into a relationship with someone else, you would be there for me, like old times.”

You were tearing up again, and you could see the panic in his eyes when another tear drop rolled down your cheek. “You do-“ You couldn’t speak, for you knew you would just break down. Which would scare him more. So you reached up and cupped his face with both hands now. Pulling him in for a kiss. Interrupting whatever he was about to say.

The kiss was soft, Echos hand stiffening, then relaxing. Along with his lips. Both your guys’ eyes falling shut as he moved his arms down to wrap around your torso. This was when you felt the metal of his other arm. Making you even more angry and upset. They hurt him so bad, but that didn’t change how you felt about him.

The two of you parting after some time. Huffing out breaths as you both tried to steady your breathing and racing hearts. Even though you were both on cloud nine. “I remember practicing to ask you out in the mirror.” Echo blurted. You looking to him with a shocked expression. “You did?” You asked, and he smiled shyly. Looking down towards the ground. “Yeah.. I did, Fives was tired of hearing me talk about you all day, so he told me to take it like a real one and ask you on a date, so I would talk to myself in the mirror.” He spoke, catching your eyes again.

Your gaze softened on him, and the mention of Fives pained you. You were going to have to tell him about what happened, it was the right thing to do, but it wouldn’t be now. That was a conversation for another time. “Yeah? Well, it paid off in the end.” You hummed, and he tittered. Kissing your forehead with a sigh as you leant agains him. “Yeah, yeah it did.”

#star wars #echo deserves the world #bad batch x reader #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #clone x reader #echo x reader #echo x male!reader #clone x male!reader #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper echo

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

Reminiscing // Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: In a rare moment of peace, you find yourself thinking back over the centuries shared with the one you love.

A/N: I AM A FOOL FOR ELIJAH MIKAELSON. My taglist is open for The Originals - if you would like to be added, let me know!!

Warnings: fluff, history, established relationship, vampires, mentions of blood and death, mourning and grief, female pronouns, use of ‘wife’, dialogue heavy.

Word count: 1.8k

The house was quiet.

A rare occurrence in the Mikaelson household, but for first time in the months, the house was quiet. There was so furious shouting from Klaus, there was no attempts at mediation from Elijah. It was all quiet, and it was all peaceful.

When such a thing happened, it was very much the time to take hold of the rarity with both hands, gripping onto it for dear life in the hopes that the peace and quiet does not end too soon.

You sit in the library; finally put back together after one of Klaus’ anger fits. The books line the shelves in the correct order; a painstaking task you had completed after Klaus had apologised to you, knowing how much you cared for the almanacs and folios hidden away in the priceless Mikaelson collection.

The chair you had chosen to sit in was one that had come with you from the continent when the family had first settled in New Orleans. You had found it at a markets, immediately buying it and having it brought home with you that very day. Elijah had said nothing, indulging you with a roll of his eyes and a kiss to your lips. He very rarely argued with you, knowing that more often than not, you would have been right to make such a purchase.

The photo album remains open on your lap as you stare down at the images stuck to the pages. Time had aged the album; the pages becoming worn at the corners and browning further with each passing year.

This was the first album you had picked up; knowing it had the most pictures of the family in it. In particular, this album was home to perhaps your favourite photograph of yourself and Elijah. It had been taken spontaneously; unaware that a photographer even stood close by. Your bodies are angled towards each other as if each other’s true north. Elijah’s expression is soft as he glances down at you; the beginnings of a smile poking at the corners of his mouth as he readies himself to laugh at whatever you might have been saying in that moment. His hand rests delicately on your waist as your face is turned upwards; your eyes shining brightly as your hands gesture wildly, punctuating your story.

Footsteps sounding bring you out of your reminiscing. Instead, you greet the subject of the photo, smiling widely at your husband as he enters the library, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored shirt.

“I knew I would find you here,” Elijah comments, a hand brushing over your shoulder and the back of your neck as he walks past you.

“I’m making sure Klaus doesn’t take out his anger on anymore of the family collection.”

Elijah chuckles, “I don’t think that will happen again. He’s too scared of your reaction.”

“As he should be,” You declare, puffin out your chest proudly at the fact that the hybrid would be too scared to even touch the precious books and histories housed in this very room.

“The Great War?” Elijah asks, pointing to the album in your lap, not expecting an answer. He reaches for the photo album, beginning to flick through the pages as he wanders around the room. “My dear, whatever brought this on?”

“It’s been so peaceful recently. I wanted to take a moment to remember.”

“To remember?”

“Our past, my love. We have been together for over a thousand years, married for just short of that. I wanted to remember the peace.”

Elijah doesn’t answer. He simply watches you, watches the emotions flit over your face as you communicate your feelings. The last few months haven’t been easy on anyone in the Mikaelson family; the permanent target on your backs making it hard to live everyday life. Klaus continuing to make enemies left, right and centre didn’t help the matter either.

A thousand years. A thousand years he has loved you; has never loved anyone but you. His life prior to being a vampire flashes before him; a strong man, destined for great and noble things and completely in love with you – kind and caring. The relationship happened quickly, but the both of you knew that your eternities were intertwined. The curse put on him by his mother perhaps made him more selfish of all; turning you to ensure your eternities would always remain intertwined.

“Why the Great War?” He finally asks after a moment of silence.

“It was the first time we got our hands on a camera. We had seen them before, in France, but this was the first time we had owned one.”

“Rebekah loved it. She was forever posing in some ostentatious dress.”

You chuckle, your body warming at the obvious fondness in Elijah’s voice. He would berate her fashion sense, but he would never speak ill of his beloved little sister.

“Do you remember the summer we spent in England? It had to have been 1812 or 1813?”

“And you let Rebekah promenade for the season?” You start to giggle, “She had so many suitors! I have never seen Klaus so mad!”

“It wasn’t just Niklaus,” Elijah recalls, “I had so many angry missives from mothers who wanted to marry their daughters off that season but couldn’t because of Rebekah.”

You snort, remembering the empire waists of those months spent in London. The weather had been particularly wonderful that year; the sun continuing to shine for days on end. More time had been dedicated to walks in the park than they had been to being cooped up inside. Whilst the fashion of the time could be debatable, the company of your husband was very much desired.

“You were the diamond of that season, my love,” Elijah comments, bringing you back to the present.

You roll your eyes at the love of your eternal life, “You have to say that. I’m your wife.”

“What would you have me say?” Elijah asks, eyes bright with happiness, “As I recall Lady Earnshaw was particularly handsome that year too.”

“Lady Earnshaw!” You gasp.

“She loved me,” Elijah defends, holding a hand to his chest as if wounded by your words.

“Of course she did! You flirted with her every chance you got.”

“Jealous, my love?”

“Never,” You snort, remembering the aged face of the stubborn matriarch, “Lady Earnshaw was a day over eighty if I ever remember her.”

Silence descends over the both of you; memories of a past once thought long forgotten now washing over you. There was much to think of when one has lived for over a thousand years. The first few months after your transition were blurry; the pangs of hunger making your thirst practically insatiable – unable to think of anything but feeding. Yet, as you aged and found your place in society on Elijah’s arm and in his heart, your memories become refined – punctuated with moments of joy and pangs of heartbreak.

It had not been an easy existence. Family’s often fallout and Klaus had no qualms about punishing his siblings. However, in and amongst those dreaded recollections were rare moments of peace. Moments that were sought after and savoured; relished by every member of the Mikaelson family.

“Do you remember the sixteenth century?” You ask, mind faraway in the past.

Tudor England had been where you were happiest. You loved New Orleans, adored the culture and the people that came along with it, but Tudor England had its charms as well. For the millennia that you had been walking the earth, you had always found home in Elijah, knowing that he would be with you for an eternity and more. Yet, Tudor England had a hold on you. Having to leave the court of Henry and not return until Elizabeth had been crowned; it had been the longest decade of your immortal life.

“How could I forget?” Elijah laughs, “You have our miniatures in your bedside table.”

“Nicholas Hilliard was a dear friend,” You admonish thinking of the artist with great fondness.

“Queen Elizabeth I was never my biggest fan, was she?”

“You did take her sugared violets away from her,” You remind him, a smile in your voice as you remember the anger in the monarch’s voice once she realised who had in fact stolen her precious sweets.

“Her teeth had rotted away completely!” Elijah protests, throwing his arms wide as he defends his actions from centuries ago.

“So what would more sugar do? She had already lost her teeth, love. As I recall, her breath wasn’t all too pleasant.”

Elijah grins, remembering your pinched expression every time the monarch sought your attention, “You were her favourite.”

You shrug effortlessly, lifting a single shoulder. “I can’t help that she had good taste.”

“You wound me, love,” Elijah moans, smiling widely. His playful side came out rarely, but when it did, it was a treat for those nearby.

“You also refused to call her Elizabeth,” You continue, ignoring Elijah’s noise of protest, “You would call her ‘Betty’.”

“She didn’t mind the name when I was in her father’s court. I still argue to this day that I didn’t deserve her shoe being thrown in my face when I let her nickname slip out of fondness.” Elijah argues, crossing his arms as he thinks back to the small redheaded child he had first encountered almost five hundred years ago.

“She wasn’t the Queen then, darling. She was five years old and in need of a mother.”

“You were wonderful as her closest confidant. She thought of you as her mother.” Elijah comments quietly; his mind still on the small child of five – bright red hair combined with a wide smile. Elizabeth had become attached to both you and Elijah; finding adoptive parents in both of you when you showed her the smallest of attentions. It was hard to say no to such a child.

“It broke my heart to leave her,” You reply, your non-beating heart lurching at the memory of not only the tearful teenager, beginning to question why you hadn’t aged, but also of the weary monarch. Elizabeth had been very ill at the end, and you had refused to leave her. Ignoring the wishes of your husband and your family, staying with her until the end.

“I know it did,” Elijah murmurs, his hand seeking yours as he sits down next to you. “You were solemn for months, nothing I did could bring you round.”

“I had to mourn, Elijah.”

Elijah brings your hand to his lips where he kisses the back of it before kissing your knuckles. He keeps your hand close to his mouth as he whispers, “I know.”

You sigh, “It has been a life of mourning, hasn’t it? Time passes and yet I remember every death.”

“You’re not alone, my love.”

You turn to him, a soft smile gracing your lips. “I know. I have you for it all, don’t I?”

“Always and forever,” Elijah quotes, pressing your hand to his chest, holding it above the heart that would never again beat but continues to love you just as fiercely as it had when it beat its familiar rhythm.

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