#centric he ends up ALONE hurts me more than words can say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unsolvedjarin · 1 year

Text

just you wait sunshine.

pairing: (sebastian vettel x driver! reader)

summary: sebastian’s retirement has led him to reminisce his past life and mistakes, including you. little does he know, the universe is about to give him a second chance via a small bookstore in switzerland.

note: this went on WAYYY longer than i wanted it to be and it didn’t really go the direction i wanted either, but we move

content warning: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, more sebastian centric than reader centric tbh (sorry i just love him so much)

word count: 3.7k

Retirement had been good to Sebastian.

He’d finally been able to spend time in his farm house, plant some trees, grow a garden, and along with all that, still have time to drive cars whenever an event needed him to. It was like his entire life schedule magically cleared up in front of him.

He missed racing of course, he won’t pretend that he didn’t. After all, he spent 15 years in the sport, it was his pride and joy for quite a long time. But that time of his life is over, he’s accepted that. He wanted to enjoy the other things in life instead, be able to see and experience things that the busy life of being a driver didn’t let him experience.

Sitting on a chair in his porch watching the sun set, he reflects on what he could have done differently. Who he could have treated differently. And when only one name enters his mind, the same one that’s haunted him for the past 5 years, he sighs reluctantly and heads back inside to prepare his dinner.

—

2012

“What do you wanna do when you grow up?”

The question takes you by surprise as you take another swig of your beer. The moon shone brightly on the porch of whatever airbnb your team had set you up at, and the stars were sparkling like they had never before.

“What kind of question is that, Sebby?” you giggle. “Isn’t this what we’re gonna do for eternity? Racing?”

Sebastian shrugs, looking up at the sky on his foldable chair that you had brought on the trip. “Yeah but after that, you know? I’ve always thought about what my life will be like after retirement.”

“Okay old man, because you’re sooo close to retiring,” you tease. He gives you a playful light shove for that, smiling as he does. The air feels freer and lighter than it ever has before.

“But seriously,” Sebastian chuckled. “Have you ever thought about it?”

You ponder for a second before replying, “No, not really. I mean my career’s just starting, I haven’t really thought about the end. But when I do retire, I think I’d like to be a writer.”

“Like those egotistical types to make a biographical book about themselves?” Sebastian asks, earning a laugh from you. The sound made him feel things that he’d only ever felt before with you.

“God no,” you laugh out. “I don’t wanna be like those old blokes who get obsessed with themselves after they retire. I just wanna write fictional books, maybe under a pen name. Just a simple life; me, my theoretical dog, and my theoretical book.”

Sebastian nods with an understanding look in his eye. He wants that life too. A simple one, away from the public. Even now at his young age, the paparazzis and press were getting annoying quickly.

“I want to live in a house far away from the city,” he says. “Maybe the suburbs— no that’s too near…a farm! I’ll live in a farmhouse.”

You smile at the thought of Sebastian Vettel, two time Formula 1 world champion, just lounging about in a farm tending to his animals and crops.

“Wouldn’t it get boring? Or lonely? Milking your cows alone?”

He answers you with no delay, “Well I’d want you to be with me of course.”

You thanked whatever higher power was listening at that time that he couldn’t see how your blush formed over the darkness of the night. Regaining your sense of self, you reply, “What makes you think I’d want to go with you?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks genuinely. “You could write your books inside while I…I don’t know what type of farm I’ll make, exactly. But I’ll be tending to that and you can write your books with your theoretical dog.”

“It’ll be our theoretical dog, then.”

Sebastian replied with a soft smile, “Ours, then.”

—

He had settled on bees. Having a bee farmhouse. It wasn’t easy work, it was definitely more complicated than milking a cow like you had said, but it made him happy, and it made him content.

Well, as content as he could be.

You had your first kiss that night, Sebastian recalled. He remembers because even though you didn’t think it, he could see the red blush dusted lightly on your cheeks, a sign he made the right choice leaning in and making his move.

Preparing his dinner for one in his cozy yet lonely farm house, he realizes he could have had this all with you. If he had just been more kind and if you had forgiven him, you could have had all of this together. A life that both of you had always wanted.

—

2018

“Sebastian, I’m not asking you to retire or something, I’m just asking you to take a break, please,” you beg. He remembers your exasperated voice as clear as day.

“I can’t take a break, Y/N, you don't understand. If I don’t get at least podium in this race, that's it, my career is basically over.”

Scoffing, you replied, “Your career isn’t over just like that, you’ve still got another year with Ferrari for christ’s sake.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he mumbled, opting to turn away from you and put on his racing gear instead.

He’d been distant the whole season, the tension between the two of you increasing and increasing that finally it just snapped this race weekend. He’d been icing you out, acting like you didn’t exist because he was ‘practicing for the races ahead.’

At first you understood, you were a driver too. You recognized the difficulty of always losing race after race, how after a while it took a toll on your mental wellbeing. So you gave him space.

Then, when that didn’t work, you tried reaching out, helping him. It was the worst mistake of your life. Every time you tried to talk to him, to ask him what was wrong so you could help, he kept pushing you further and further away, acting like you were getting in the way of his work, sometimes even getting angry.

That went on for the whole season, until finally today, on qualifying morning, you snapped and demanded he talk to you.

“What the hell do you mean ‘I wouldn’t get it’? I have the exact same job as you,” you accused. You’d been patient for months and his vagueness was starting to get on your nerves.

Whipping his head around angrily to face you he replied, “You don’t have to reach the same standard as I do. I have to constantly prove I’m the best, and you constantly prove to be a midfielder.”

Oh.

That was a low blow, even Sebastian knew that. Your relationship had been teetering on the edge for the past year, but this was a make or break moment, and he knew exactly which one of the two it was going to be.

“So it’s like that,” you decided with a tone of finality. Sebastian wanted to ask for your forgiveness right then and there, to apologize, to make up for the last few months of being an asshole, to beg you not to throw away your years together just like that.

But he knew he was in the wrong, and he was too stubborn and egotistical to apologize.

Sensing the silence from him, you nod with teary eyes you tried so desperately to stop from flowing freely. Sebastian wanted nothing more to wipe them away, to hold you in his arms, but he never could do it.

“This is how you want it to end?” You asked him. It was a genuine question. You were giving him one last choice, one last chance to make up for how he’d been treating you the past year.

He stayed silent.

“Enjoy your fucking career, Vettel.”

—

He won that race. It was his first win of the season, but he felt like he had lost the championship itself as he stood on that podium, eyes looking for you in the crowd like he usually did, finding you absolutely nowhere.

After your argument he tried to talk to you in the paddocks but you constantly avoided him, the act not being hard when he wasn’t allowed inside your team’s hospitality building nor paddock. That fight was the last sensible conversation with each other you ever had.

You retired the year after that. You moved out quietly from your shared home, and he heard you stayed with Jenson for quite a while. He couldn’t blame you, Jenson had always been kind to you— Sebastian had no place to be jealous.

Hearing the beeping of his oven, Sebastian snaps out of his trip down memory lane to grab his dinner. It was a tray of lasagna, one he was sure he would be eating again tomorrow lunch because of the size of it.

He thinks about how he wouldn’t have to place the excess in a container for tomorrow if he just had someone to share it with. If he could share it with you.

Going through his grocery list at 10 in the morning, Sebastian notices a new store out of the corner of his eye. He’s been to this street countless times to do his grocery down the road— they had a brand of milk that no other nearby grocery had— but he had never seen that store before.

It was a bookshop. A small one compared to the large shops that surrounded it, but it stood out enough to be noticed yet cozy enough to feel inviting. It was a cold morning in Switzerland, and the heater inside just invited him further in until he found himself standing at the doorway, taking in the smell of books and the absolutely gorgeous decor.

He will admit, he hasn’t seen a bookshop like this in quite a while. The second he stepped foot inside he felt the love radiate through it, as if he knew the owner personally and how they had a passion for their store.

All Sebastian could think about, however, was how much you would love this. How you would adore running your fingers through the spine of a second hand book, or how you would pick a fresh new one for him to read and he would do the same for you, just like you both did back then.

He won’t pretend that he never looked for your book when you retired. He knew you weren’t joking about publishing one, he just didn’t know what pen name you chose so he never could find it.

“Looking for something specific?” A voice makes him turn his head around to see the woman behind the register looking at him inquisitively. He realizes that he was just standing in an aisle not really reading or picking up a book.

Sebastian shakes his head, “Not really, just browsing. I was thinking about how a friend of mine would have liked to see this store, it’s right up their alley.”

“Why don’t you invite them then?” A different voice speaks.

…It can’t be.

That voice.

No, he was hallucinating, dreaming maybe. Yes, this was a dream. That would be the only explanation why from behind him he heard a voice he missed so dreadfully, one he tried imagining talk to him again some nights, one he watched old videos for, one he—

“Sebastian?”

It was you. He would recognize your voice anywhere. He turns around, and the world seems to slow down as if it suddenly focused on just the both of you. The background blurs and everything is hazy and distorted but you were there. Standing in front of him, actually real. Older than he remembers but not in a negative way, just more mature. More peaceful. More you.

Staring at you in the middle of a bookshop in Switzerland after 5 years, Sebastian couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. What would be right? Would there be words he could tell you that would make you ever forgive him?

“I-” “You-”

You both start at the same time, making you laugh at each other. It was the first time he’s seen you smile since 2016. He used to say he would burn cities to see you smile, and he’s glad he knows now that that feeling hasn’t changed.

“You first,” he says. He wants to hear what you’ll say so he can choose his words better.

“I, uh,” you laugh awkwardly. It was still a beautiful sound to Sebastian. “I was actually slightly expecting to see you here.”

Oh. Well he didn’t expect that. You…you were expecting to see him? Like purposely thinking about him? The thought boggled Sebastian.

Noticing his visible silence, you speak up again. “I co-own this bookstore,” you smile. “I knew you lived around the area so I expected I’d bump into you eventually. It’s not the main thing that I do, but my Swiss friend you just talked to behind the counter wanted to make a bookstore but was low on funds so I decided to help a friend out, you know?”

Oh he knows. You were always so kind when it came to your friends. He remembers, he used to be one of them.

“That’s really nice of you,” Sebastian says. He slaps himself internally for the dumb reply he gives. “You uh, you look great.” Way to fucking go Sebastian. What a great conversation saver.

“Not in a weird way, of course. I mean I would never try to make you feel uncomfortable by saying that. Did you feel uncomfortable? Was it weird? It probably was. I mean I haven’t seen you in so long and that’s the first thing I say it’s so stupid and I could have said something of significance but—”

You stop Sebastian before he rambles on any longer. Holding his fidgeting hand, you chuckle at the sight of the nervous German in front of you. “Relax, Seb. I’m not mad. I’ve moved on.”

Oh.

“You have?” He asks, not thinking before he speaks because he knows he hasn’t. How could he move on from the best thing that ever happened to him and the biggest mistake he ever made?

The question takes you aback, pulling your hand away from his. For a second Sebastian thinks he’s messed up all over again, but you simply reply, “I meant from racing. But I know what you think I mean.”

“Can we catch up? I’ve missed you.” Sebastian hears himself say it before he even realizes the implications of his words.

“Oh.” you say with a pause. It makes Sebastian’s heart sink. Maybe you really have moved on, but in a way that you didn’t want him in your life anymore. He gets that. It looks like you’ve built a nice life for yourself outside of racing. Even if he never gets to be in it. He’s proud of you for being able to move on. “How about we sit down for some coffee first? I know a place near here.”

Oh thank god. Sebastian wasn’t ready to be deprived of you again so quickly.

Walking to the cafe, the air was thick with the tension between the two of you. While your accidental meeting in the library had gone well, the spark of the moment had faded and the reality of the situation had settled in. This was someone Sebastian had deeply wronged, someone he still deeply loved, and there were too many words unsaid there about both.

Sitting down at the window seats— he remembers how you loved sitting there so you could watch the people outside— you flag down a waiter to take both your orders.

“I’ll take a macchiato and— Seb do you still take your coffee black?”

Nodding, he looks out the window with a light blush on his cheeks. The fact that you remembered his— albeit simple— order made him happy and he had to catch himself otherwise he would be smiling like a teenage boy again. It was truly the little things.

“So,” he speaks up, straightening up and looking at you.

“So,” you mimic. “I go first or you go first?”

“My life has been pretty televised before I retired, there’s nothing really surprising in it. You go first.”

You spend the next 30 minutes filling him in on your life, how you avoided the media for the past few years, how you live in a cozy home with your dog, how you still exchange presents with some of the older grid during Christmas (Sebastian admits he got jealous here).

But the most important part was when he heard how you finally wrote that book you always talked about.

“Really? You finally published it?” Sebastian asks. He could see how the smile on your face was genuine, unlike the many times he saw you put on a fake one for the press or the media. It made him happy.

“Yeah, I finally found time after I retired to start it. Surprisingly it’s actually much harder and less peaceful than I thought it’d be.”

“At least it’s not a biographical book,” Seb jokes. The throwback makes you giggle, but it also makes you both acknowledge the elephant in the room. There were still so many things left unsaid, you both didn’t know where to start.

“Y/N back when I said those things, you know the ones, I didn’t mean them.”

Giving him a sad smile you reply, “I know, Seb. But it doesn’t take them back. Besides, that silly argument was just the straw that broke the camel's back, we were on the edge of our relationship for so long, you knew that too.”

“I know, but that was my fault it was on the edge too. I kept pushing you away because of Ferrari and how disappointed I was in my career. I didn’t realize at the time how much it was hurting you until I finally lost you. I know it makes no sense to say it this late when all is said and done, but I am sorry.”

Sebastian’s words stunned you to silence. You knew he never meant pushing you away, despite your last fight he was never intentionally that unkind, it was just racing that pushed him to be like that back then. But hearing the words coming from him hit differently, the way he said the two words you’ve been yearning for for years. I’m Sorry.

It couldn’t make you forget, but it could make you forgive.

“I know you are, Sebby,” you say. The old nickname brings a nostalgic smile on his face. “I’ve forgiven you years ago, just after I retired. I figured I should let go of my ghosts and that’s what I did. Though I won’t lie, your ghost did put up quite a fight giving me tears at night,” you joked. Sebastian could sense the hint of sadness in it.

He wishes he could make it all go away, to fix it just like he used to be able to. But he knows it’s not that easy. Not when the years have separated you both. It’ll be hard getting your trust back to let him into your heart even just as a friend, but goddamn if he wasn’t going to try and fix it.

“Will you ever show me the book?”

The question catches you slightly off guard. “I doubt it. It’s not up your alley anway, historical fiction.”

“Anything you write is up my alley. Maybe you can come over sometime and show it to me,” he says, not realizing the underlying meaning to it.

“Careful, Sebastian,” you say. “Forgiving is easy when you’re given time, but forgetting is harder. Let’s take baby steps.”

Baby steps. He could live with that. To Sebastian it doesn’t matter if it takes days or years to get you back in his life, he’ll let you take your time. You deserve it. And if you choose in the end to walk out of his life again, well, then he deserves it.

You hug each other goodbye when you leave, the hug lasting longer than it should have. He knows he promised baby steps, but when you buried your head into the crook of his neck and tightened your grip around him softly, he couldn’t resist pulling you closer to him and holding you there for a few seconds. He misses this, the closeness of it.

He sends you his address if ever you were in the area again, and you notice how the profile picture he has for you on your number was still the one of you when you were both rookies. It made you happy.

Sebastian didn’t expect anything more to happen, he spent that night contemplating what good deed he must’ve done to bring you back into his life again. Whatever it was, he was grateful he had done it.

The next afternoon as he was reheating the Lasagna— that he ultimately forgot yesterday— in the oven for lunch, he heard his doorbell ring. Opening his door he spots a package on the floor, one that was wrapped with a cute bee themed wrapping paper. It made him chuckle. He expected that whoever or whatever was at the door was you, but this was the next best thing.

Sitting down on his porch chair, he opens the package delicately as if it were fragile. He can feel the outline already, it was a book. Moreover, it was your book. Sebastian couldn’t believe it.

There was a note attached that read, ‘Forgot to tell you yesterday. I missed you too.’

The few words were almost enough to bring him to tears, but he continued and opened the book to scan its contents. The typing Published 2020 stands out, making him realize how long he’s missed out on this.

But what truly catches his attention is the dedication. Smack right in the middle, the words to be seen by everyone, read; For my Sunshine, the amount of words left unsaid will never match the amount of love I still have for you in my heart.

He may not be able to fix his mistake just like that, but Sebastian would wait however long it took for you to love him again, as a friend or as another. As long as his sunshine was in his life again.

#sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel imagine #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #fanfic #writing #f1 fanfic #f1blr #f1 x reader #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending

2K notes · View notes

bluejaysandblackbats · 8 months

Text

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Two: One and Oh

I'd almost gotten through my first day without a hitch before I got into my first fight in months. I'd just come out of the bathroom when some genius decided it'd be funny to shove the door into me as hard as they could. The force knocked me back, and I hit my head on the tile. I could've walked away from anything else. I know I could've, but that was too much for any human being to take. I feigned laughter with him and all his friends.

The weird kid, Tim, was the only one who wasn't laughing. "Hey, Jason, are you—?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I interrupted, still forcing the same smile I'd been faking all day. He helped me up, and I thanked him before taking my crutch and swinging hard enough to hurt my shoulder and crack my assailant's skull. Then I dropped to my good knee and tried to kill him with my bare hands. Tim pulled me up and held onto me, clutching the doorknobs to one of the locked classrooms so we wouldn't topple over. "How does it feel?" I screamed as tears streamed down my cheeks. I kept screaming it until security came and took me to the office. Tim followed closely behind. I think he felt sorry for me, and I hated him because he felt bad for me.

"Jason, what you did was unacceptable—."

"He might be concussed... Besides, you didn't see what happened, that kid shoved him to the ground, and he hit his head," Tim defended me. I still hadn't stopped crying or shaking. It was the most humiliating feeling I'd ever experienced. I didn't even realize I was bleeding until the EMT came to check the wound on the back of my head. Tim spoke for me, and I realized he'd been watching me all day. I was too distraught about the fight to say anything, let alone accuse him of following me, so I stayed silent. Bruce rushed into the office soon after that as if he'd been in the area all day.

"Jason," Bruce called as he grabbed me by my shoulders and checked my face for bruises. "Are you alright?"

I finally managed a few words, but they weren't helpful. "Is Alfred mad?" I asked. Bruce sighed and shook his head. "Do you want me to go to the hospital?"

"Yes," Bruce answered, "I'll take you... Mr. Ames, I hope we can discuss this once I know Jason's okay. He's not usually—."

"Three days on-campus suspension, and that's only because of the brutality of his response. Most kids I would've suspended for a week, but Jason's had a stellar reputation at this school, and his classmate explained the whole situation," Mr. Ames replied. Bruce nodded and thanked him as he escorted me to the car. I thought Bruce would yell at me, but nothing happened. He didn't say a word.

I still hadn't stopped shaking. "You don't have to go back there—."

"But I can... I might hate being back, but I can't hide at home anymore," I interrupted, "I have to control myself better next time." I chastised myself because no one else would. Barbara would've given me an earful if she could've been there. I liked that she never pulled her punches with me. I wished everyone was more like her.

"Master Jason, what were you thinking?" Alfred asked. His voice was colored with more concern than anger.

I wanted to tell them that I wanted to beat him near death. I wanted him close enough to demise to be both relieved and disappointed. I needed him to feel how I felt every day. I didn't say that, though. "I wasn't thinking, Alfred... I'm sorry," I apologized. Bruce touched my shoulder, and I winced. I almost forgot I'd overextended it when I struck him. The adrenaline rush finally waned, leaving only feelings of exhaustion and pain in its wake.

"Is it bad?" Bruce asked. I shook my head. I wanted to sleep, but that wouldn't be allowed until after my hospital visit. The drive to the emergency room felt endless.

Maybe I would've made a joke under different circumstances. I tried to open my mouth to tell one, but it didn't feel right. The sad part was the fight wasn't enough to quiet my rage. I was a bottomless pit of anger and pain. I woke up drowning in it every day. Bruce took me in, and I explained at the front desk that I'd hit my head at school. The doctors moved me through quickly, but it all felt like an average appointment. CT scans, MRI, bandages, full-body check-up that I didn't want or ask for. It all felt routine. Bruce sat outside for most of it.

He hated taking me to the doctor. Part of me reveled in that small bitter victory. At least I wasn't the only one suffering in silence. I was cruel, but that was all I could do to keep my sanity. I had to have someone to share my pain with, even if it wasn't productive. At least he could return to his life. His lives. I was stagnant. Trapped in an endless explosion. Permanently benched. We hadn't talked about Robin, but I knew. Robin had to die so that Bruce Wayne could live with himself.

I hate to say it, but the man I thought loved me most was memorializing me since before the accident. I saw it every day before I left, and it hasn't changed. He looked through me sometimes like a mortal would look at an apparition. I wasn't supposed to be there, but my presence was a source of comfort and pain.

Before we got home, three hours passed, and Bruce allowed me to fall asleep. I attempted to skip dinner, but Alfred woke me. He let me eat in my room because I had a long day, but he warned me that I wouldn't get off that easy after school the next day. He changed the dressing for my head wound and pleaded with me, asking me to behave myself in the future. I nodded.

Dinner was dull; it wasn't that I couldn't taste it. I was too depressed to care about what it tasted like. I ate quickly and went back to bed. I didn't dream. I preferred not to dream because dreams led to nightmares.

When I woke up for school the next day, I had dried blood on my hands and under my nails. I hadn't noticed the blood on my hands and shirt until then. It must've been frightening for Bruce to see all that blood on me.

I showered, scrubbing the blood from my flesh until my skin was raw. I started shaking again, and my phone rang. I turned the water off and got dressed. "Hello?" I answered. The call dropped, and I stepped into the hall.

"Hi," Dick waved. I rolled my eyes.

"Bruce called you, didn't he?" I asked.

"A fight on your first day? Really, Jason?" Dick asked. "He wants me to babysit you today..."

"Hard pass," I replied as I pushed past Dick and hobbled down the stairs.

"Could you be any more difficult?" Dick asked. "Use the stairlift."

"Only if you use the door," I replied. Dick mocked me.

I grabbed my crutches and headed toward the kitchen. "Alfred, where's Bruce?" I asked.

"Away on business, Master Jason," Alfred answered. Away on business. That was everyone's polite way of saying he was on a case. They all knew how it made me feel. I grabbed my things and rushed to the garage. Dick followed close behind and grabbed a set of keys.

"Jason, you shouldn't bottle your feelings up... You're gonna make yourself sick," Dick whispered.

"Where'd you get your psych degree? Clown college?" I snapped.

"Jason, I'm serious," Dick whispered.

He wouldn't drive me to school until I let him win. "You want my honest feelings?" I asked.

"Yeah, Jason," Dick answered.

I took a deep breath. "I don't have any optimism left... All I can manage most days is rage. I don't wanna live, don't care if anyone else lives or dies, and I'm sick of people telling me I'm lucky to be alive," I replied, "Is that honest enough for you?"

Dick started the car. "Jason, do you ever think about hurting yourself?" Dick asked.

"I wake up in pain every day. I'd never hurt myself... But I sometimes pray for the sweet release of an aneurysm," I half-joked. Dick didn't laugh with me. "You just hate when I win."

"It's not funny, Jason," Dick replied, "You know, we're all worried about you? I get that you're mad, but you don't have to take it out on everyone that tries to be understanding-."

"You can't be understanding! You just can't! You don't know what this feels like, Dick! No one knows what this feels like! So, if I wanna crack a few jokes about wanting to die or be a complete asshole, I should be allowed to! You said you wanted my honest feelings... Well, they don't feel so good, do they?" I lashed out. I just wanted someone to punch back. "You guys don't want me to be honest with you because the truth is, I have nothing but nasty things to say."

Dick started driving in silence, and I turned to stare out the window. All it took was his silence to make me cry bitter, childish tears. Even when he didn't play the game, he won.

#Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Barbara Gordon #Sebastian Ives #Jack Drake #Janet Drake #angst with a happy ending #fic #batfam #catch and release fic

24 notes · View notes

sunwarmed-ash · 1 year

Text

Did someone order some fucking angst?

Gavin-centric, something I'm working on atm

Hankconvin ship, angst, dead dove do not eat.

“No.”

Elijah laughs, cruel and pitchy, in a way that twists an old, healed-over scar in his chest.

“I wasn’t giving you a choice Vinny.”

“I said phcking no! I ain’t going with you.”

“Is this about the Lieutenant? Or Connor?”

Gavin’s face flushed in a way that’s always been his downfall.

Elijah laughed, cruel and uncompassionate to Gavin’s pain.

“You think he’s returned to you with open arms, but he’ll leave you again. He will, because you have been lying to him. And when he does, when they both do, where will that leave you?"

“It's different this time,” gavin restates, because it is!

“How, because of Connor?”

Elijah's cruel laughter fills the hollow bedroom. “Why would Hank need you when I personally created him your replacement?”

Gavin’s deep into the dark caves of his mind when he walks back into the room where Connor’s being treated. When he enters, the conversation the two men were having stops, and Gavin just wants to disappear into the floorboards.

He tries to force a smile onto his face, because Connor is alive, Elijah saved him, that part wasn't a trick. Elijah had held up his end of the bargain, and now it was time for Gavin to hold up his. Even if it would destroy him, one cancerous blood cell at a time.

“Gavin?”

Connor’s voice is so soft and worried, it just makes all of this hurt so much worse.

“Yeah, hey.”

His own voice isn't louder than a whisper. He’s surprised he was able to make it work at all.

“What's wrong?” Connors' growing concern just twists the knife even more. Gavin has to do this. Now. Before it gets harder.

It's going to kill him. But he has to. They will be okay, they have each other. This will guarantee they stay safe. Because Elijah will leave them alone if he has Gavin. He won't come after them.

“I’m- resigning from the DPD.”

“WHAT?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

The pair explodes their confusion and anger and it triggers Gavin’s many PTSD symptons. Gavin can’t look at either of them. He can barely push the words through his throat and out.

“I have to stay here, with Elijah."

Connor’s hand finds his and squeezes it, desperate for Gavin to look at him and explain just what in the fuck is going on. But he can't. He can't because then this will be impossible. And Elijah will certainly kill Connor. Porbably right in front of the two of them. And then he will kill Hank, and leave Gavin to clean it all up.

“Why do you have to quit though. If you stay here, you could… commute,” Connor tries, desperate for anything that could keep him with them, and Gavin pulls his hand back. It hurts.

“Clean break is better,” he says, and its immediately clear in the stunned silence they're not talking about a job resignation here. “He’s- gonna need round the clock care. He’s- sick." The lie burns on his tongue like acid. He hates it. Hates everything his life has become. Always has been. Is doomed to be. Time is a flat circle. Everything that has every been or ever will be is doomed to repeat itself in a horrific, never ending cycle, forever. “Believe me, I’d do anything for it to not be this way… but it has to be. I don’t want this.”

Because that has to be clear. He phcking hates that he’s let himself feel love again, because it being ripped away from him again will be his inevitable downfall. Gavin is moments from losing it. He’s gonna have an episode. He's gotta get out of here before the panic builds so strong he suffocates in front of them. He has to go. But there's a very real chance he will never see them again. Elijah could burst in here and collect him any second. He can't leave either of them without saying how he feels.

Gavin finally looks up, because he has to to do what he intends to do, and it shatters him.

Connor is crying. Connor. The android. Is crying. And Hank is so worked up he’s refusing to look at Gavin.

Gavin starts with Connor.

“I’m so sorry.”

He moves in close until their lips are touching, and Gavin kisses Connor with every ounce of whatever the phuk is left of his heart. He hates this. He wants to go with them. But he can't. He’s trapped. He needs help. He needs saving. Save me Connor. Please.

When Gavin pulls away Connor is reeling in a shaky breath. He catches Gavin before he can move more than just a few inches away.

“Gavin please.”

Gavin pulls away, he can't-

He moves to Hank and his eyes are pissed, burning and demanding answers Gavin can't give him.

When Gavin moves closer, Hank’s hand comes up, stopping him.

“I’m not fucking saying goodbye.”

Everything left of Gavin Reed, dies with those 5 words.

Hank doesn't understand how critical of a plot point this moment is going to be in Gavin’s eventual mental downfall, but in this moment Gavin can’t blame him.

He doesn't kiss Hank goodbye. He doesn't even get to say goodbye. He can’t. He just, turns towards the door. Elijah is closing in on him. He can feel him, buzzing like a warning bell at the back of his skull. Call it telepathy or PTSD signaling, today he was grateful for the warning.

#hankconvin #hankvin800 #gavin reed angst #gavin x hank x connor #hank x connor x gavin #connor x hank x gavin #hank anderson #gavin reed #connor dbh #elijah kamski #connor rk800 #sunwarmed ash #find me on ao3

43 notes · View notes

invisible-storyteller · 11 months

Text

Home is a person

For @kirayukimuraappreciation. Day 1: You Came Back. Pairing: Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura Rating: General Words: 1628 Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Teen Wolf: The Movie (2023), Kira-centric, Kira Yukimura Returns, Derek Hale & Kira Yukimura Friendship, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Kira returns to Beacon Hills just in time to save Derek. With everyone alive and the Nogitsune gone, happy end is due, right? Well, Kira needs a bit more convincing to realize why she's come back at all. (Read it on AO3).

It doesn’t take long to understand the situation. It takes even less time to tackle Derek off the Nemeton.

She makes sure to stand guard around the tree stump with another, younger kitsune as Parrish’s arms wrap around the mutant evil spirit and they both go up in flames. The only thing left in the Nogitsune’s wake is silence and bad memories.

Then the illusion is gone and Kira can breathe again. They are all standing on a stadium field, safe, shaken and once again victorious, surrounded by friends she hasn’t seen in over a decade. It just figures that another life-and-death scenario would bring them back together.

“Dad!”

A werewolf boy barely in his teens rushes towards Derek and buries himself into his arms, and as Kira does a 360-degree turn, she notices that everyone's celebrating in varying forms of an embrace while she’s standing on the side. Alone.

A lean body sags onto hers suddenly and she startles by the unexpectedly tight hug. “You saved my dad,” The boy says against her shoulder, relief heavy in his voice. “Thank you.”

From a short distance, Derek smiles at her and walks closer to the pair. “Amazing timing,” He compliments.

Kira smiles but can’t help looking around and thinking: “Actually, I might be too late.”

Derek invites her to dinner as an expression of his gratitude and then follows up with a dozen ‘thanks yous’ throughout the evening. His son, Eli, has a million questions about the Skinwalkers and her powers and he breaks down crying halfway through. It’s a lot, but Kira still feels better on the drive home.

It’s definitely nicer than the nothing that follows.

For every single thing that hasn’t changed in Beacon Hills, there are at least three more that have. Derek, apparently, doesn’t know much about the others since most of them haven’t kept in touch after an allegedly glorious defeat against an army of hunters. Kira hasn’t been there for the war, but she supposes that the pack would have sought her out if she was truly needed.

Reuniting with Scott is awkward, seeing him hold hands with Allison is even more so. It’s not like Kira had much hope for her and Scott, but it still hurts. It doesn’t sting like a heartache but more like another proof that life went on without her.

She talks with Hikari and Liam before they leave for Japan because that’s their home now, not Beacon Hills. Kira has no idea where her home is anymore.

Half of her life has been dedicated to fighting for control with the Skinwalkers, so readjusting to the changes and modern life should be easy, and yet, Kira finds herself debating on a daily basis the idea of simply going back. What is keeping me here? - it’s a question that echoes too often in her head.

Derek is attentive, but more than that, he understands. He invites her over for more dinners and movie marathons (to help her “catch up on what she’s missed”, and he cringes right after saying it), and talks about his travels proceeding the events in Mexico. She realizes by the second-hour mark that the similarities of their experiences are overshadowed by their unbridgeable differences.

Because Derek returned when his friends were in need, but Kira didn’t.

He shows her the garage, the preserve and the school. Coach doesn’t recognize her but asks whether she’s good at lacrosse and if she would like to join, anyway. This leads to Kira practising with Eli on Mondays, since Derek claims he’s always been more gifted in basketball.

Kira knows what Derek’s doing, really, and she appreciates it. She just doesn’t know how to tell him that the issue isn’t with the place. It’s with her.

It’s 12:14 pm on a Friday when Kira walks into the auto shop. It’s been five weeks since her return and as she enters the shop (instead of waiting outside like usual), the realization hits her of how weird it is that she hasn’t talked to Malia in all that time.

“Hey,” Malia greets, like they've just spoken yesterday (they didn't, not in 14 years), kicking her feet off the counter and plucking the earbuds out of her ear.

Kira is ashamed that she can’t come up with a better reply than “Hi”, accompanied by a not-quite smile to make up for the lack of contact. Not that Malia couldn’t have reached out, Kira reminds herself, and feels a dull pang in her heart. It’s an everyday occurrence.

“What are you doing here?” Malia asks as she stands up, soft sweater bunching up at one of her sides. Derek’s been either rubbing off on her or pestering the woman into warmer clothes as the season turned chilly. It’s an adorable sight, nevertheless.

Kira looks behind herself, wondering for a moment if she should wait outside after all. Then she remembers Malia has always been confrontational and feels her nerves settle at the small glimpse of familiarity.

“Derek promised to buy me lunch,” Kira finally says, glancing around for good measure. Derek’s most likely in the back, though, immersed in grease and work.

Malia nods, looks away, pats down her jeans.

“What if I buy you lunch?”

The question catches Kira off guard and her wide eyes are probably telling since Malia immediately shoves her hands into her jeans and plunges into an explanation.

“Derek’s busy with a demanding asshole’s car and sitting here is getting seriously boring. So please? Put me out of my misery?”

Oh. Well. Kira can roll with that.

“Yeah, sure, if Derek doesn’t mind.”

“Wait here,” Malia instructs before disappearing through the backdoor. Three minutes later, Malia is back with car keys dangling from her fingers and a familiar-looking credit card in her hand. “He doesn’t mind. Now, let’s go. I’m fucking starving.”

The lunch is better than Kira expects. Malia's questions are straightforward but her answers to Kira’s inquires are equally frank. It’s refreshing to finally pour out all the feelings Kira's had bottled up for over a month now. It's also the first time she laughs honestly.

“We should meet up again,” Malia suggests while they're pulling up to Kira's home. Or, well, to her parents’ house.

“Yeah,” Kira agrees readily.

Then, she promptly forgets about wanting to leave for a full week.

“Don’t you want to have your own apartment?” Malia asks with her bare feet trudging in the shallow part of the lake.

Kira pulls her knees up to hug them closer as well as to support her chin as she shrugs noncommittally. “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“Seriously?" Malia looks flummoxed. "Didn’t you make a comment about the absurdity of sleeping in your old bedroom? Right below your One Direction poster?"

Yeah, Kira spent an entire day mourning over that particular change.

“I know, I just never thought I would need a permanent place here.”

Malia freezes in the water at once and aimes her eyes at her submerged feet. Kira can't parse the emotion on her friend's face, and it makes the anxiety that she hasn't felt around Malia yet emerge with frightening intensity.

“You want to leave.”

There's no accusation behind the words but they aren't exactly warm in nature. Kira doesn't want to lie, not to Malia, so she settles on a shrug.

“But you just got back." And now the hurt is audible in Malia's voice.

“Why should I stay here?" Kira asks, pleading for her friend to understand. "Our friends aren’t here anymore, the pack isn’t here anymore, my life isn’t here-“

Kira bites her tongue. When she got back two months ago, she was filled with exhilaration to reunite with her family. Her mother made occasional visits to the Skinwalkers, but it was nothing compared to the almost forgotten scent of his father's cooking or the sound of her mother's singing as it floated through the house. There was no happier moment in Kira's life than when her mother had called about the Nogitsune's return and the Skinwalkers bid her farewell for good. Her training was over.

But Kira didn't live in Beacon Hills for long and she didn't have childhood memories to anchor her to the town. The only thing that was ever valuable in Beacon Hills were her friends and even they had left a long time ago. Kira has no reason to stay.

“I’m here,” Malia's words break through her thoughts, and Kira meets her eyes curiously.

“Why? What holds you back?”

Malia doesn't answer. She simply walks out of the lake and sits beside her in the grass. It's an unusually sunny day.

“Parrish?” Kira chances, and her heart soars when Malia shakes her head lightly.

“I guess... I was waiting for everyone to come back.”

Kira hasn't considered it yet - what it must have felt like to be left behind by all their friends. The worst is, though, that she doesn't remember if she ever said goodbye to Malia.

They listen to the forest while soaking in the pale light of the Sun, and at one point, Malia decides to lie down on her back and just watch the vagrant clouds as they swim past the treetops. Kira hasn't known this kind of peace in... 14 years.

“I guess..." Malia suddenly speaks, quieter but somehow braver, "I was waiting for you to come back.”

Kira looks at the other woman, at the challenge and hope in her eyes. At the evident fear that she bares open for only Kira to see.

She leans onto her side until she hovers above Malia, and slowly, tentatively, takes hold of her hand.

“Will you help me look for an apartment?”

Malia beams, and just like that, Kira no longer regrets coming back.

#kiraweek2023 #kira yukimura #malira #derek & kira #original: teen wolf fanfic

12 notes · View notes

ominousposting · 2 years

Text

I Didn't Want You To Hear That Shake In My Voice (My Pain Is My Own)

Rain centric hurt/comfort. Aether does most of the comforting but Fire is there in the beginning.

TAGS AND TW : self harm , suicidal thoughts , eating disorders

1545 words

Rain is written with they/them pronouns and has a speech impediment. Swiss is mentioned once and also uses they/them.

AO3 LINK!

Rain has been wearing long sleeves again.

That by itself isn’t necessarily proof that something more damaging could be taking place. It’s winter and Rain has never had a body that was good at thermoregulation, always finding themself to be either too cold or too hot. What is concerning is that they have been wearing long sleeves in areas that aren’t cold. When cuddling beside Fire they still won’t roll up their sleeves.

That is another red flag, Rain not rolling up their sleeves at all. They're prone to getting overwhelmed by the sensation of fabric on their arms, so often any long sleeve shirt the ghoul wears eventually becomes a half sleeve shirt some time throughout the day.

Rain thought they were keeping it all under wraps. It had been about a month since their relapse into, well, just about everything, and none of their fellow ghouls had approached them about it.

Fire and Rain are both laying on the couch, Rain leaning their head against Fires chest as he brushes his fingers through their hair. It had been a while since Rain had allowed themself any physical comfort from any of the ghouls, so being held as tenderly as they were now spread a warm feeling of love throughout their entire body.

Rain moves their arms to play with Fire’s hair as well, tucking his long hair behind his ear before repeating it on the other side to even out the sensation.

Rain feels Fire suddenly flinch. A whole body reaction to…something unknown. Rain reacts as well, pulling themself up off of Fire to look at the entrance to the hallway. They see nothing there. Confused, they look back at Fire.

“What. What happened?” Rain asks. All the ghouls know that Fire can get spooked if he sees someone around when he doesn't expect them to be there.

“I-uh…saw your arm. Under your sleeve.” Rain feels the tears start to fill their eyes as they hear him say this.

“Oh. uhm…” the tears finally begin to fall as Rain rises from their place against Fire’s chest, instead moving to sit at the end of the couch. They curl in on themself when they sit back down, beginning to cry into their knees.

“I’m not able to deal with this well. Can I go get Aether?” Fire is rubbing his hands up and down his arms as he says this, a self soothing motion as well as a way to calm the feeling of pain he feels on his own arms. Memories of his own issues with this obviously coming back to haunt him.

Rain nodded in agreement to the question and watched as Fire quickly stood up and walked away, presumably to Aether’s room. Rain takes this moment of being alone to attempt to collect themself, taking a big breath in and slowly exhaling. They repeat this a few times until they hear footsteps approaching the common area, looking over at the beginning of the hallway where Aether and Fire are seen approaching from.

“Hey Rainy. Fire was pretty vague but he said you needed me?” As Aether says this, he sits on the couch beside Rain and gently grabs their face. “What’s going on sweetheart?”

Rain feels themself break completely at this

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to it…it was jus’ too much.” Rain pauses to take a shuddering breath. “I can't do it. I just can't do it. Please. I can’t keep…I can't keep doing this.” they stop to sob openly as they realize what's truly going on with them. “I don't think I wanna be alive anymore.”

The tenseness in the room could be felt by everyone. This only serves to make Rain cry even harder, falling against Aether's chest as the sobs wrack their body. Aether attempts to comfort them by running his hand through their long (greasy and matted, Rain never goes a day without brushing their hair and never more than a few days without showering. How had none of the others noticed?)

Aether thinks back on the signs all of them had missed. Rain refusing to eat with them, instead electing to “eat” in their room. Swiss had spoken to him personally about how they had caught them throwing away their food hours after lunch had passed, but they had assured both of them it was a one time thing. Holding Rain now, Aether can feel by the way their ribs are sticking out more than before that it likely was not just that one time they skipped a meal. Also, the eye bags that were always present on the ghouls face had only gotten worse as of recently. There was also a distinct lack of, well just about everything being heard from their room over the past month. No bass playing, no sound of them pacing, no other ghouls visiting, nothing. They had locked themself in there for days and days on end and well, it seems no one had noticed. And that's exactly what sent Rain spiraling.

“Okay. Okay that’s alright. We can work through that.” Aether started, still holding the smaller (so much smaller, how had nobody noticed the weight loss?) ghoul against his chest as they continued to open mouth sob. “Can I give you my magic? I don't want to overwhelm you and think this talk would be better if you were calm.”

“Go f…for it. Not sure how c…calm you’re gonna get me though.” Rain gave a self depreciative giggle as they say this. They sigh as they feel the quintessence magic enter their body through the place Aether rests his hands against their shoulder blades. The calmness feels weird at first, it always does when the person experiencing it is having a breakdown of this magnitude. After a while, Rain finds themself no longer sobbing and instead breathing deeply from the place they rest their head against Aether’s chest.

“You feeling calmer?” Aether asks, continuing his questioning when he feels Rain nod. “Okay. First of all, do I need to clean your arms or legs? I’m assuming if you’re… cutting your arms again that your thighs are already pretty bad. No need for an infection when I’m okay with cleaning you up.”

“No they’re… They’re cleaned up. M…my thighs are mostly just. Scabbed up right now.” Rain explains, the mention of their thighs reminds them of how itchy they had been earlier this morning.

“I’m sorry. I think I need to leave the room. Before this gets more in detail about…other things” Fire states. Aether and Rain both nod in agreement as they watch their partner walk away from the couch.

“Okay. I love you. Go hang out with someone else for a while. Please.” Aether says. He knows that Fire being by himself after realizing that one of his lovers has relapsed in multiple ways is not safe, both because of the mental breakdown that is sure to ensue and also in case Fire himself relapses as well. Fire nods at Aether in acknowledgement.

While Fire is still looking their way, Rain quickly signs “I love you” to him. Fire smiles and signs it back to both of them, nodding at Aether as he walks away.

Aether waits to make sure Fire is out of earshot before he continues his questioning. “How long have you been…not eating again?”

“Uhm…maybe a week or two? That part…that part’s pretty recent.”

“Can I get you something to eat after we’re done talking? You can even choose what it is.” Aether watches Rain grimace at this statement. “Or not. Whatever you think would make it easier for you”

“Probably be easier if you choose. Just. Just nothing too big? I don't…don't wanna get set off by it. Don't let me think too much about it.” Rain is still making a somewhat disgusted face at this plan, despite knowing it’s for the best

“I can do that. Is it okay if I take a closer look at your arms?” Rain nods at this and raises their arms as an offering to the other ghoul. Aether quickly looks over both arms before pulling the sleeves of their shirt down again. “Okay, I think you cleaned them well but I would prefer to put some bandage wrap on them later just in case. Do you want me to look at your thighs or do you think they’re okay?”

“I think th…they’re fine. They’re mostly scabs.”

Aether nodded as he pulls Rain to be held against his chest again. He gives them a kiss on the top of their head, electing to rest his mouth there instead of moving it away afterward.

“I’m sorry you feel so horrible Rain. I hope you know that all of us are here for you and want to help you in any way we can. We love you and love having you around.” Aether speaks into Rain’s curly hair.

“I…I love you guys too. I’m… sure I’ll be okay in the end.” Rain sighs after saying this, the pure exhaustion from the past month seemingly hitting them all at once.

“You've gotten through this before. I know you're strong enough to get through it again.”

#rain ghoul #aether ghoul #fire ghoul #nameless ghouls #if theres any spelling mistakes no theres not.#rivers lore

71 notes · View notes

lake-archive · 10 months

Text

Lab Cat

CATZ Discography - AO3 Link

Content Warnings ahead!

Hurt (& Comfort)

Implied Animal Abuse (nothing explicit but heavily implied)

Angst

If you have a hard time handling these topics or they just make you uncomfortable, I advise you to not proceed!

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Ann Wolff (OC), Ole (OC), Ramuda Amemura

Synposis: Being a cat is said to be easy... However, not with the life Ole has lived until recently. Beccause if it had not been for them... Who knows where he would be now.

Tags: Original Character(s), Origin Story, Backstory, Cats, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Animals, POV Animal, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Original Character-centric, Dark Amemura Ramuda, Mentioned Amemura Ramuda

Words: 2,822

AO3 Link

It has been a good year ever since that day but to Ole it felt as if it had just taken place yesterday. Then again, the moment where he felt the sweet embrace of freedom was something he did not expect to long for. After all, ever since little he knew nothing but a cage.

He had been one of eight siblings, not to mention he was the youngest. Back then he was a very naive and childish cat, just wanting to pounce and play around. However, those days would end, given his first owner. Said owner was a scientist, obsessed with one thing and one alone… Overthrowing a government. Not for a great cause nor anything noble, not as far as he knew, but for selfish reasons. Jealousy, nothing more, and being power hungry. She enjoyed control, he learnt that during his first few years. And yet, back then he thought this was normal… That his sisters would all be thrown out and only he remained. And why is that? Well, to quote her directly: “Finally, everything seems to be in place. I found the perfect one to modify. And it only took me five attempts too. You stay boy, the rest can go to hell for all I care. I just need you and no one else.”

A normal life? The one of a cat? He had never gotten it. The details were something he wanted to forget and usually did. But it would creep up in his dreams once in a while. Her wide grin, how she opened the cage and just grabbed the young cat, putting him through whatever she had in mind next. He would get enough food and water to survive but there was not much else he could do. The wide grin terrified him, it always did and will. There was no ounce of humanity left inside her body. She was moving like a machine, speaking in such a monotone voice usually yet got some twisted joy out of it. And yet, that was his life. He lasted longer than expected, though maybe she had something to do with it, so that he may live longer. Ole couldn’t tell and honestly, he didn’t even want to know. In fact, only from the windows was he able to tell for a long time when this all would end. He feared the sun rising yet would be at ease when it settles down, the only moments where he was able to rest and sleep in peace. The life of a young kitten… He doesn’t know it. He will never know in fact. He missed out, all because of the circumstances. All he knew back then was fear and terror, even when he got older. Sure, he got something out of it. He was more aware of his surroundings over the years and eventually was fully able to comprehend human language. In fact, he seemed to have reached a level of intelligence thanks to the experiments that he was able to withstand and even use a hypnosis mic. But was that worth it in the end? No, he wouldn’t say that. Given that he was only pushed and pushed for one purpose alone…

He tried to disobey before yet that would do nothing. She did not react to scratches or bites, this scientist didn’t care. She was cold through and through, conducting her experiments as she pleased. He wondered for a while… Why him? Why a cat? Why did it have to be him? The answer was eventually simple – No one would suspect a cat infiltrating, snatching a Hypnosis Microphone which was the real deal and mastering it. At least that was her intention. How did she gain this intel? She was part of the Chuohku for some time, only to spy on them and rat them out for her own purposes. Hence why she even had her hands on one of those microphones to begin with and was studying them… All while making sure to adjust Ole’s tests so that he would learn how to use one, communicate with one in fact. It succeeded in the end but… He would trade this life.

Maybe others would be fascinated, admiring it even.

Perhaps some cats on the streets would admire him for it but it was torture in its own right. He could never lay down and just enjoy a nice nap or his food in peace. No, he was plagued with so many thoughts… His sole purpose even. He was an old man by now and honestly, he may as well have lived his life. He was about to throw the towel even, not having the energy to keep up with this insane woman. He just wanted this to end so badly… It was hell, he wanted to scream. Back then he wanted to survive but he was probably four or five years older than his expected life span by then. If he was to give in now he would not even raise any suspicion… And if it had not been for them, this may as well have become his fate.

It was about to be like any other day and honestly, Ole was already halfway there. The scientist had grumbled and yelled at him all morning, acting up because he still did not touch his food. He didn’t listen though, only turning around and getting himself somewhat comfortable in this tiny space. She could yell all she wanted, he would not listen and take even a bite. No more, this was it! He has had enough! It will be better this way any—

“Halt! Stay where you are!” A loud voice would silence everything, making even this cat perk up his ears and wag them curiously. What was going on? Who was there!? Actually, he thought other people were just a myth! He never had seen anyone else! And yet, when he took a turn and looked past the back of the scientist he saw… Two people, two figures.

One of them was taller than the other. In fact, the taller one had a similar build to Ole’s owner which made him cautious for a moment, almost wanting to hide. And yet, this figure’s attention was not on him. He did not see any colors, how could he, yet he could make out shapes. Long, somewhat messy hair, one eye covered up and the mouth having even a mask over it. A hat, jacket, shirt (maybe, it was hard to tell for Ole) and a skirt.

Next to her was a figure with a build he had never seen before. It looked so different from what this cat’s eyes were used to, he didn’t know what to make of it at first. It was confusing. No assets whatsoever, may as well be a board. And yet, he stood there with an off putting smile, all while something was in his mouth. The clothes were also unlike anything Ole had seen. He later learned it was some oversized hoodie, a shirt and jeans. Oh, and the bowtie as well, do not forget that. That didn’t change the unusual presence this guy had given off, making Ole all the more curious for a moment.

Regardless, the conversation continued, with him just being in the cage and watching it going down, listening to it even.

“Hah!? What the— The Executioner!? How did you find this base!?” The scientist asked, trying to sound innocent yet the frustration had been written all in her voice. “A… And even bringing one of those cute clones~ A present?”

“Please stop joking around. Which sane individual would give you anything?” The so called ‘Executioner’ sighed, shaking her head.

“Oh, you think I’m cute? Thank you Onee–San~” The other figure said awfully cheery, which only earned him a glare in return from the taller figure.

“Amemura, this is not the time.”

“Eh? You’re cold y’know!” He pouted. “Are you a party pooper or are you just jealous? Be–”

“I don’t have time for your shit.” She interrupted in an awfully harsh tone, making just about anyone flinch. Even Ole did for a moment, ready to turn to stone at any moment.

However, the other figure only stared at her for a few moments before shifting his own gaze, becoming colder from one moment to the next. “You’re a real pain in the ass to work with, you know.” He responded, the voice having suddenly gone deeper, way deeper. Yeah, this cat knew something was up here. This didn’t feel right… “Why the hell am I even supposed to be here? Ah wait, I know why. So they don’t dispose of their precious weapon. Gimme a fucking break.”

Instead of responding The Executioner just decided to ignore that remark and turn back to the scientist, facing her yet again. Just when she was going to try to make a run for it. “It wasn’t that difficult to locate your whereabouts. Eager to return to your secret base in Osaka, aren’t you?” She even scoffed while stepping inside closer, the other figure following her close behind. “Huh, talk ‘bout the amount of toys you have.”

“T… Toys? That–” Ole’s owner was trying to counter yet Executioner didn’t give her the time to begin with.

“I don’t really care. I just want this job to be done with. You’ll come with us, whether you like it or not.”

“Hah!? Over my dead body! You can’t make me!”

“Heh, bet we can.” The third said, the grin becoming even more evident as he was grabbing into the inside of his jacket. However, before he could pull anything out he was suddenly grabbed by one of the shoulders by the taller figure and shoved to the side, almost crashing into something. It had caught him off guard, his own eyes widening for a short moment. “What the— Hey, this isn’t–”

“Just stay back, we’re not gonna need this thing.”

“Hah!? The hell are you—”

“Just stay the fuck back. I handle this my way.” Before anyone could even say a thing The Executioner pulled out a microphone of her own, it being obvious what microphone it was. A Hypnosis Microphone, what else would it be?

The next moments would be a spectacle of their own, the cat memorizing it clearly. He didn’t remember each word, he didn’t need to though. It was something else. The moment the woman’s words would echo through this microphone he had to roll his ears together so that he would not feel any pain coming from it. All while the scientist was wobbling on her knees quickly before falling right onto them, screaming in pain from the top of her very own lungs. She looked as if she was begging and yet there would be no mercy. One verse after the other seemed to bring her pain, so much so that she was in utter agony. It was visible and anyone would feel at least a shred of sympathy… If it had not been for years being stuck with her this cat would but it was too late now, he was not feeling the slightest bit of pity for this woman and he never will at this rate.

It was only a short lived moment to be honest yet a sight Ole will never forget. It was almost as if she had it coming to be honest and he couldn’t be happier… Though perhaps this was twisted to think. She was soon knocked out on the floor, The Executioner not paying the other woman any other mind. She may as well have been an insect at this point. She even sighed while mumbling to herself. “If you wanna trick the Chuohku, you gotta do it better than this. The big bosses have seen through your facade in no time.”

All while she came… Closer? It took a bit to process but this Executioner… Came closer. It made Ole nearly back away in his tiny cage but the closer she came the… More he felt at ease? That is odd. Despite her figure looking like the scientist’s… He didn’t feel like running. In fact, The Executioner’s scent was… Not even close to that of the other woman’s. She didn’t even smell like one… Or something… Ole couldn’t put it into words but the scent threw him off for some reason and made him stay oddly calm. Should that even be possible? As she got closer however she and the other person in the room talked.

“What was that for? I was supposed to–” He wanted to say but got interrupted.

“So what? They may as well save their resources and not waste it on some piece of garbage.”

“Someone’s got a big mouth I see… I don’t get it. Why the hell would you not let me do my thing? Anyone else would’ve.”

“Amemura, is my name ‘Anyone Else’?”

“Tch, that answer. Classic.” A quick click from his tongue, he seemed agitated, to the point he put something out of the inner pocket, this time with success. It was some package of— Wait, Ole saw it before. Those sticks which stink like hell. He had to endure it with this scientist before. And yet his nose would not be saved, smelling the smoke even from the distance they were in and spotting the guy inhaling and then exhaling, as if taking a deep breath.

“Can’t you do that outside?” The Executioner asked, slightly annoyed.

“Who cares? No one else is here.”

“I am.”

“So what?”

“Hah, nevermind.”

“You still didn’t answer my question… Why did you stop me? If it’s for this so called ‘my sake’ then–”

“No, not really. It was less for your sake and more for my own.” She interrupted, having stepped as close as possible towards Ole now and reaching her hand out. He was confused if he should yet he tapped closer eventually, even if slowly, sniffing her hand to remember her scent.

“Hah? The hell does that mean?”

“I know what I said.”

As they spoke he kept on sniffing. Ole didn’t dislike the scent, came to like it fairly quickly in fact. Was this it? Was he saved? Was she responsible for that? He eyed her for a moment, though not being able to make much out of her face. And yet he felt at ease. Was she smiling beneath that mask perhaps? It was hard to say. He hoped so at least. She was anything but hostile after all. Even when she had opened the cage and picked him up, it was more as if he was embraced. It felt warm yet unusual, something he didn’t expect nor had ever felt. But… He didn’t hate it. Not at all. It was a nice feeling, making the cat nuzzle slightly against the person. He felt… Safe. As if the worst was over now.

“I think that thing should stay there.”

“I’m not going to leave a cat in that small space. Who knows for how long he’s been in there.”

“Ugh… You care too much y’know. It’s kinda annoying.”

“Don’t worry, I will request to never go on a mission with ‘Amemura 001’ again.”

“You…”

“Besides, not like they’ll let me handle one of you on my own ever again after this.”

“Tch, so you’re aware…”

“But that’s fine. The others are even more of a pain to deal with.”

“Tch, whatever…”

That was the day Ole had seen her for the first time… No… Them. That was when he and Ann met, though the cat did not know it at first. If it had not been for them, he would probably not even be here. They saved him, this old man of a cat. He quickly learnt what had been going down in this family, how their mother did a sudden 180 and is no longer herself… Their Dad being kicked out and the climate becoming more and more strained… To the point even Ann was thrown out. Ole had seen the pain, or at least parts of it. So, if he can put his cursed skills to use, he will. For their sake, to repay them. After all, he owed them for freeing him, didn’t he?

Yeah. So until this has been resolved he will not pass on. He will make sure of it!

And besides, he soon had two youngsters to take care off. And he cannot leave them. At least not until their mission has been completed. CATZ needs Ole and it is the only reason he will use his cursed existence for the better. Just hold out a little longer… He can make it until then at least. For their sake… Ann’s and Eli’s. Yeah, their sake, and no one else's. He will make sure they succeed, grow and will be in good hands. Then he might be able to move on peacefully.

#Deep Waters #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #oneshot #one shot #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic oc #ramuda amemura #amemura ramuda #hypmic ramuda #tw implied animal abuse #cw implied animal abuse

4 notes · View notes

ladytauria · 6 months

Text

find the word tag

tagged by @paprikadotmp4 thank you so much <333

my words are cold, wonder, wrist, and try!

cold -> jaytalia, trans!jay + public sex

Finally, her hand moves. It slips from him, leaving him cold where she had touched. He can’t find it in himself to complain, though, when her fingers finally pull the back of his long, open skirt up, to tuck it out of the way.

It leaves him bare. Exposed. Talia had instructed him to forgo underwear this morning. Anyone behind him has the perfect view of bottom half. He’s already wet; his folds glistening between his thighs. His arousal has been building for the entire meeting—since this morning, actually, when Talia got him ready for the day.

She’d started with his collar. There were other, subtler was that Jason wore his submission to her, with the collar coming out only when they were alone, or on special occasions. The click of it settling around his throat had been the first thing to stir him.

The second had been the plug she’d held up.

It’s your favorite color, pet, Talia had said, a sly smile on her mouth as she worked it into him. I expect a proper thank you.

wonder -> jason-centric, jason & personal gratification over the years

Thing is… lately, Jason’s been curious. About… about what it might feel like. If he were to—take care of it more…. traditionally.

It’s not that he’s never wondered before, mind. It’s just… everything else—the same, the fear, the anxiety, the… almost disgust—had always eclipsed his curiosity.

Tonight is different.

Tonight… Jason feels like maybe… Maybe he could.

And luckily, it seems like things have aligned to ensure that he has the time and space as well. He doesn’t patrol tonight. His homework is finished. Alfred is down in the cave, running comms for Bruce, Babs, and Dick. He, for all intents and purposes, has the Manor to himself until patrol ends.

Jason still locks his door. It’s… weird. He hasn’t bothered locking his door in… a while. But… he doesn’t want to be caught with his pants down.

Literally.

Jason dawdles a few extra minutes, making sure he’s got everything he needs. Towel? Check. Lube? Check. Books, just in case this goes bad and he needs a distraction? Check. He takes a deep breath.

Holds it.

Exhales.

It’ll be fine. People do this all the time.

wrist -> jaysteph meet cute, written for a prompt!

It won’t hurt to treat herself, would it? Sure would make her a lot happier than her textbooks have recently.

Tim doesn’t show up again until she’s leaving the store, a bag dangling from her fingertips. He spots it immediately, tilting his head. “I didn’t know you were buying lingerie today.”

“The store doesn’t just sell lingerie, Tim,” Steph sniffs. “Maybe I bought sweats.”

“You called them overpriced and tacky the other day,” Tim says flatly.

“A woman is allowed to change her mind,” she says. Tim’s face remains unmoved. “Where were you, anyway?” she asks, knocking him in the shoulder. “I turned around to talk to you, and you were just gone!”

He winces, rubbing his arm. “Ah… Got distracted texting the group chat and ended up following the wrong purple shirt?”

Steph snorts. “Of course you did. I swear I’m gonna get one of those wrist leashes. For you and Cass.” She tosses her hair again, half-wishing she’d worn it up today instead. “Now, you promised me a giant pretzel, and I intend to collect!”

She can tell him about Jason while they eat.

try -> jaytim, aob mating run

If Tim is out here, though… the door might be unlocked. If Jason can get inside, he might be able to lock himself in a room where Tim can’t get to him.

His best plan? No.

But it’s a better plan than running himself ragged throughout the city, until Tim just takes him wherever he drops.

His cunt tightens at the thought. No, fuck, that’s not hot! That’s mortifying.

His body isn’t listening, though. Instead, he feels slick soak into his underwear and shame makes his cheeks flood with heat. He ignores it—and that Tim can probably smell it, fuck.

Jason risks a few precious seconds to try the front door, and thanks a god he’s not sure he still believes in when it’s unlocked. He wrenches it open, and then throws it shut behind him, dashing toward the stairs.

All he needs is one room with a locking door. Just one.

Tim’s study, that’s a safe bet.

no pressure tagging... @zeroducks-2 ; @ragnarokhound ; @anawrites3 ; @n1ightw1ng ; & @disniq <33

and i give you: warm, dark, shiver, and hand!

#tauriawritesfanfic #tauriawritessmut #tag gaming #nsft

5 notes · View notes

pandoraimperatrix · 2 years

Text

Wandering Worlds

DickKory | Core Four Centric | Cannon Divergence | Longfic

Summary:

The story begins with the death of Dick Grayson. His life taken by his own brother, Jason. Consumed by grief, Rachel gives in to despair, losing control, a portal opens, but from it no destroyer of words come through. Instead a man who looks just like him, how can he be? The Titans, and especially Kory has to mourn their fallen leader and deal with this stranger with a lot of issues of his own. After that, when everything seem to be settling, Kory is forced to return to Tamaran, but she wasn't as alone in her destiny as she thought, neither her family of choice was willing to let her go that easily. But politics in Tamaran can be as complicated as travelling across universes.

————————————–

Part Four – Voyagers

Chapter Twenty-tree – I will not tolerate a world emptied of you

She nuzzled her face against the curve of his neck, Dick sighed, his hand reaching behind them for her waist, to pull her just a little closer, his fingers found warm flesh and once again he felt blessed by her superior alien physique and fashion sense, that, combined, always gave him such amazing opportunities for touching. Even then, he wished he couldn’t remember how it felt, the despair, the starvation for love, but he did. He did too well, and it was because of that, that he didn’t care if people saw, if the children whistled and teased them from the upper sits of the Ferris Wheel, trying to throw popcorn on their heads an missing every time. They needed more training...

Life, he thought at the time, didn’t get better than this. His children safe and thriving, the hand of woman of his dreams, whom he thought he had lost forever, holding his tight, around them a fortitude of promises of a shared future, of finally settling, of following the path they fought so hard to have the pleasure of taking, together, despite fate or logic or even the universe.

Fools rush in, an although he couldn’t say he had rushed into anything, he has been a fool nonetheless to think that was real. People like him didn’t get perfection, only glimpses that shone as brightly as they cut deep.

“I hate this place, I hate this place, I hat-“

“Gar, can you shut up?”

Dick massaged his temples and tried to ignore the two bickering siblings, he had let his mind float to the past again. It would be always like this for him, wouldn’t it?

Starting, knowing in his marrow how his story always ended where love was regarded was the rock he would be always pushing up the proverbial hill. The number of promising futures he had were the same as of the tragic pasts.

And still...

Here he was again.

“Yes I can, but I won’t. The only thing I can do over this whole mess is complain and I will keep doing it, thank you very much.”

The plane landed and Dick gritted his teeth. Bruce had seen on television, the battle, the way Starfire had abandoned her team after murdering Blackfire. It was a mess. The Titans had lost a lot of the approval and some instigators were using the whole situation to justify attacks against the legitimacy of superheroes, masked vigilantes and alien immigrants. And, although confirmation was yet to arrive, Dick had no illusion of escaping some sort of penalty by the Justice League. Justice League that he wasn’t sure if they were fully informed of his own sort of alien status...

READ MORE ON AO3

“Well, since we are doing things we can despite them being useful or even charitable to other people I can, for example, make your mouth disappear.”

Gar snorted obnoxiously.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Try me.”

“Nobody,” Dick started on a firm tone, “is making anyone’s mouth disappear. And Gar I have a massive headache and I’d really appreciate if you’d shut the hell up.”

He almost regretted his words when he saw Rachel supress a hurt look.

“Fine,” said Gar, relenting with a heavy exhale, “I still hate this place, though.”

“Noted,” ended Dick between tight teeth.

After all, annoyed as he was, it was a feeling he definitely could understand.

Sometimes Dick felt so old, the thread of his life pulled too far, abnormality so. What relation had the man he was now to the circus boy? And Robin? And the man he was before the apocalypse? The man he was after...

Gotham, had been home to a Dick Grayson once. His place of birth, in another world. In this one... it felt like a graveyard.

“Why did he ask us to come, anyway? He couldn’t just send the ship.”

“Nothing is “just” with Bruce. Listen the both of you, I need the best behaviour if we want to make him cooperate. No stupid fights, no using powers for nonsense. But also, do not get too close and don’t indulge his questions if you can’t see his intentions. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” they said in uneven unison after exchanging a look. Dick envied them a little, never haven had the opportunity to grow up with a sibling, he had a similar bond with Donna but was not the same. Donna had more sisters than he could name, Gar and Rachel only had each other, and there was strength in that.

He had no hopes of this trip to Gotham going too well, any trip to Gotham really, but he knew something was wrong as soon as they stepped off the plane and found Bruce alone at the hangar. He was holding Alfred’s cane tightly, chin glued to his chest and the stared at them over his thick eyebrows.

No sign of Selina anywhere.

Fuck.

But to Dick’s surprise and terror, the old man approached them, and held Dick in an awkward one armed hug before acknowledging the children and telling them to follow.

Never before the Wayne Manor had looked so much like a crypt, with dust and cobwebs. He half expected the eyes of the paintings to move as they walked across the long dark corridors or to find a massive wedding cake rotting on the diner table Dickens style.

“I believe you can find the rooms you used the last time.”

Behind him, Dick could feel Gar and Rachel loud internal conversation although they were, finally, silent.

“Bruce-“

“You must be tired from the trip,” and for a moment Dick noticed how fragile the man in front of him looked, the bluish veins, and thin paper skin, the ever-present bags under his eyes deeper than pits, “we talk tomorrow, in the cave.”

His first instinct before Bruce turns his back at him was to call Donna. She was already heading to San Francisco when he told her over the phone that they were boarding the plane to go to Gotham and, after a string of insults, – which were unfair since she had not told him she was coming despite her allegations that he was stupid and ridiculous and of course she was coming who the hell he thought she were yadda yadda.

He loved Donna, to his bones, but Jesus fucking Christ sometimes the way she showed love drove him out of his wits, and he didn’t think he had that many wits left to spare.

He had been happily surprised to find Selina’s number on Koriand'r’s contacts after his legs drove him automatically to the room that had never been really his.

It went straight to voicemail.

He let a sardonic bitter laugh after that. It was just so like her, to make a lot of promises and then take off the moment things get hard and Bruce say or do something she doesn’t like, which he always does, because he’s Bruce. Rinse and repeat over and over again.

Dick haven’t enabled himself to miss Alfred in decades. When losses piles up, it’s easy to forget how far away from the ground one stands. He indulges himself now. He wishes he could run down the stairs and pour his heart over a cuppa, even if at the end all he would get for comfort was an encouragement to keep a stiff upper lip and, more rarely, an awkward pat on the head.

The next morning Dick intends to make breakfast but find the Wayne pantry, that has space to feed a standard size army, completely barren.

Maybe, he thought looking through the fogged window of the kitchen, that let him discern the contours of the gravestones far into the once perfectly manicured garden. Coming to this place, so full of heartbreak had been a mistake.

That feeling was confirmed as he descended down through the Grandfather Clock secret passage into the Batcave.

It looked as it always did, but instead of the strange comforting feeling he had as a kid when he entered the place, all Dick felt was uncanniness. On his right he found the body of the woman he loved frozen and lifeless. On his left, he stomped to death the only father he really met for killing her, and further down, taking the corner to the med bay, was the place he was held bound in pain and confusion while de corpse of a luckier version of himself laid dead.

Dick tasted bile, and swallowed hard.

“Bruce,” he called, and just like a dramatic supervillain in a cartoon, Batman turned his chair around. Dick frowned.

“Put your mask, we will be in a videoconference with the League in a few minutes.”

“With the League? Why?”

Even through the mask, Dick could feel the unmistakable steel cold batglare he was receiving.

“What you mean why? Do you have any idea of how that showdown in San Francisco costed us in PR? Diana is doing her best to keep the government and the UN at bay but not even her is that wonderful.”

Incredulity took over Dick’s whole body as if someone had physically shoved him, hard.

“PR?” he asked, his voice rising an octave. “That was really what is concerning you? After everything you saw that happened?” He swallowed, finding himself panting although he had barely moved his feet. “You know, I thought I was angry at Selina for always leaving you, but I think her real problem is that she keeps coming back.”

“What comes between me and Selina is none of your concern.”

“I wish, or no, maybe you’re right. This conversation, this whole ridiculous situation doesn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m stupid for believing in anything you said to me in Metropolis-“

“I stand by each and every single word I said to you in Metropolis. You are my son. Why do you think I’m going through all this work to shield you from the repercussions of what happened? The things I had to do to keep your real identity a secret? Do you know what I have been doing to protect you? To keep you safe?”

Dick felt his entire body sag in defeat, it was a wonder that he didn’t fall on the floor like a sack of bones, so old and tired of having the same argument across time, space and now, realities.

“I can’t take care of myself, I don’t need you to protect me-“

“You died!” Bruce shouted.

“I didn’t!” Dick replied, and for a moment they remained in silence. The Dick took a few calming, bitter breaths. “You are trying to somehow correct your mistakes, what you think, at least, that were your mistakes with your son. Listen, I tried to do something similar and... There’s no going back. He is gone, like my world is also gone…” He sighed. “I thought, after all you said in Metropolis, that you had that figured out, somehow. I always think you know everything… I came here for help, I came here because I thought you’d understand. I was wrong.”

“Even if the situation wasn’t as hopeless it is. Even if get you, Mr Logan and Miss Roth on some spaceship to the Vegan System wasn’t a stupid idea, I’d not do it. I’d not help it. And I’d do everything in my power to stop it.” Was he even listening? It felt, not for the first time, that Bruce was replying to an entire different argument than the one Dick was having with him. “I wouldn’t and will not risk your and your kids life by aiding you in this pursuit of some alien woman. You are far too precious. Either way, the message is clear, son, she doesn't want you."

Some alien woman...

Too precious...

He couldn’t fathom the absurdities one after another. Such was his dissonance of emotions that Dick was overcome with the maniac urge to laugh. And so he did, his sad dark laughter echoing through the cave’s humid walls, bothering the bats, he laughed in spite of Bruce’s perplexed look and the annoying beeping sound the Batcomputer was doing to get the call started.

When he finally, got himself together, wiping roughly the tears away from his face, he stared down at Bruce’s small figure and saw him, maybe for the first time, as what he really was. Powerless. All money, all advantages, all brilliancy in the world wouldn’t change that. He wanted to pity that man, but right now, same as in that nightmare night an entire reality apart, all he could urge himself to do was stomp him down.

“You have to be joking. And since when you care about my kids? Did you ever have a real conversation with them?” Without waiting for a response, Dick turned around and started walking away. “God you are pathetic all over the multiverse,” he glance behind to say that, pointing at Bruce who looked even weaker as he struggled to follow Dick’s large strides, Alfred’s cane making a horrible scratching sound against the rock flooring, “call that consistency of character if you want. I just find it hilariously sad.”

“Dick, come back, Dick!”

“Fuck you, Bruce,” he muttered as the elevator doors slid open.

"THE ALIEN DOESN'T WANT YOU! ANY OF YOU! I DO. WE CAN BE A FAMILY!"

Dick turned again at that, now, finally, he could feel some sort of pity for that man.

“We are a family. Me and my kids, and their mother. You are the one who was never part of it. I'm not 12 anymore Bruce, I don't need you to want me anymore."

And with those last words, he took his tired looking and famished kids out that overbuilt mausoleum of a house with no intention of ever coming back.

“Why we are leaving already?” asked Rachel scratching her eye, head pillowing on Gar’s shoulder as Dick signed at them to buckle up.

“Did you get the spaceship?” the boy asked.

“No. We’ll find another way.”

He turned back from the wheel of the car he stole from oversupplied Wayne garage and held a firm look at his children.

Gar was frowning, Rachel biting her bottom lip. No more words were exchanged and somehow, Dick knew they understood.

And as long as they continued choosing each other, they always would.

Much later, at a motel room, Dick heard a knock on his door.

Lying on his bed, fully clothed in the dark, Dick covered his eyes with the heels of his hands. He just couldn’t handle with the obviously underage reception girl hitting on him right now.

“Dick, it’s me,” Rachel’s sweet voice announced beyond the cheap door of his room.

He let his breath float out of his body, the migraine making his eyes ache more insistently than his heart.

“Come on in,” his voice cracked like wet wood in the fire.

He felt her move in the dark, any other person would have asked about the absence of light, many would have turned it on without a single care. Not Rachel.

She sat beside him.

Dick covered his eyes with his forearm to free one hand to reach out for her. Rachel took it, holding it firmly with both of her smaller and so much more powerful hands.

“I’m sorry things did go well with Bruce.”

Dick snorted.

“I’m sorry I ever thought it would.”

He heard her sigh.

“Dick...”

“We’ll find another way, Rach.” He kept repeating that as if to make himself believe.

“About that...”

“Hmm?”

“Gar and I have been talking and you know... When I went to Themyscira...”

Dick took his arm off his face and squinted to see her in the penumbra.

“No.”

“Yeah, of course. It was the other... Well, I had gone there to try to bring Donna back, but... My point is, I didn’t accomplished that, right? Donna came back on her on, what I did do, and even though it was after, I think the training I got at Themyscira might have something to do with it, was bringing you to us.”

“Rach, I’m not following.”

“I couldn’t bring him back. I couldn’t bring Donna back, but… Dick, what if we don’t need a spaceship after all? What if, I can take us to Kory or bring her back?”

He let her word sink in and then, sat up.

“You think you can really do that?”

“I mean, it’s great that I can sometimes heal people and control dark matter, but when you think of it, my purpose was to open a portal to bring Trigon to this world, right? And when you really, really think of it… that’s how you are here.”

He considered her words, and before he could help himself something started growing in his pit of his chest. Something small, yet strong, something that thrived even all he wanted was to get rid of it for once, but it wouldn’t let go. And thank God for that.

“But that and what you did to me was dimension travel, the Vegan System is in this dimension.”

“Shouldn’t it be easier then?”

“I suppose so, but-“

“Dick…”

He stared at her eyes so full of hope and despair. Not for the first time, Dick wished there was a way to shield her from harm forever, he understood now, why in fairy tales, princesses and treasures were hid away in high towers and protected by dragons. But Rachel would hate to be locked in a Tower and the closest to a dragon they had was Gar if he could turn into a very big lizard.

“Rach…” He breathed in, trying to say in a way that wouldn’t hurt as much, but failing. “What if... What if she doesn’t want to come back?”

Even with his eyes hurting and the darkness he could see her lip trembling. She crushed his hand between hers.

“We have to try.”

“And how does she plans to accomplish that?” asked Donna over the phone when he finally picked one of her calls the next morning. He felt raw all over, and the blinding glare of the white morning wasn’t really helping although his headache was not even close to the torment from when he left Gotham, that time, he swore, forever.

“I’m not sure… You know magic isn’t exactly my forte, and Rachel’s powers are still mostly a mystery… We’ll need help.”

“Don’t you always?” but her tone was far from accusatory, Dick could even see the little smirk through her words. “You want to send her to Themyscira again? Mother might not object, but Diana called me, and lemme just tell you, I’m not on her best side right now…”

Dick cringed, the fight with Bruce coming back and making his head ache.

“No, not that. But I was thinking, do you know where Lilith is?”

There was a long silence, and started to rain, Dick, ducked under the roof of the motel. He had come outside to see if the fresh air did him some good.

“The Talmud?” She finally answered in a small uncertain voice.

“What?”

He heard an annoyed ruff.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Dick.”

He frowned.

“Red hair, a bit dramatic, daughter of an actual Titan, kinda like your sister is half-goddess?”

“The only dramatic ginger I know is Roy, and I don’t think he knows anything about opening portals.”

Oh no…

“Damn. There’s no Lilith in this world,” of course, of fucking course, he wanted to crush something with his own hands.

“I didn’t say that,” said Donna after a while. “I said I don’t know any Lilith. You know, this different universes shit is complicated. But… we could look for her. And if she doesn’t exist, we’ll find another witch to help Rach, hell, she might not even need anyone to guide her.”

“Donna, have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“What? Sorry, I didn’t hear you, you need to repeat it, louder.”

And for the first time in days, Dick felt a spark of joy. What would he do without Donna?

“Don’t tell Rachel, I don’t want to give her any false hopes.”

“I think the lot of you need any hope you can get. One more thing, when you see your Koriand’r again, tell her, I’m gonna kick her ass.”

Once again I say: I wrote the script for this story WAY before season 3 was done, nevermind season 4, so, if some coincidences occur like, talking about teleportation, it is the HBO Max probing into my head LMAO. Now, seriously, Raven teleports all the time in the comics and the cartoon I’m not inventing the wheel here. I'm just making a complicated wheel for fun and laughs.

Nobody is more sorry than me for how long this story is taking to get finished, I just have been adulting a lot. And been meh in the head. And the thing about writing switching POVs is that my brain wants to continue telling the story from the last person I was writing instead of going to the other and that makes getting in the mood hard. Dick and Kory are very different people and now they are in literal different planets, it’s… Hard. But it’s also a labour of love. I want to tell this story till the end, and I will, if I don’t like, die tomorrow getting distracted by a kitten crossing the street or something.

PLEASE leave a comment and reblog, I’m fucking begging you to, because I have no shame.

Bye.

#dickkory #Dick Grayson #Koriand'r #Nightwing #Starfire #Kory Anders #Richard Grayson #WW #Wandering Worlds #my fic

26 notes · View notes

awanderingmuse-ficrec · 1 year

Text

To Build a Home (Series)

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender

Author: orphan_account

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, Strong Language, Abuse

Word Count: 14,652

Characters: Zuko, Iroh, Ursa, Fire Nation Citizen(s), Aang, Katara, Toph Beifong, Sokka, Suki, Ozai

Tags: Firelord Zuko, Post-Canon, Post-War, Politics, Agni Kai, Ozai Being a Terrible Parent, Assassination Attempt(s), Hurt No Comfort, hand waving canon because fuck it, no beta we die like jet, Zuko is trying his best, I wrote this instead of sleeping and I'm sorry, Can be read as a stand alone, Iroh is a Good Uncle, he just keeps making questionable decisions, Fire Nation Politics, look I tried to write a hurt no comfort fic and then it made me sad so here, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Crying, let zuko sleep 2k21, I wrote this and now it's your problem, Zuko-centric, Hurt Zuko, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, pls be nice to me I’ve forgotten how to write, Ozai is an Asshole, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Zuko Needs Therapy, but he does get a hug! and that's a start, Vomiting, Medical Inaccuracies, bc I’m fun like that ;), my dual love affair with italics AND parenthesis, Angst with a Happy Ending, Regent Firelord Iroh, POV Iroh, iroh loves his nephew. that's it, thats the fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, handwaving canon bc fuck it, Protective Iroh, Iroh Loves Tea, he makes so much tea in this fic whoops, Zuko Needs a Hug, I wrote this and now it’s your problem, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, well post canon divergence lmao

Turn to Dust

Never mind that he won’t be of age for another year-and-then-some. Never mind that he’s sixteen with bandages still wrapped around his chest and a more intimate knowledge of war than these men will ever have. He wasn’t old enough for his first Agni Kai. He isn’t old enough for the crown. No one batted an eye then, they don’t now. The prayer shawl is a familiar weight on his shoulders.

(Youth is no excuse, the generals hiss to one another.

You will learn respect, a palm of flames says.)

House of Stones

Somehow, he survives his first month on the throne, assassination attempts, and Agni Kais be damned. And then he survives the second. By the start of the third, Zuko thinks, I might make it to seventeen.

(Somewhere, the spirits are laughing at him.)

To Build a Home

Iroh steps up as regent. He takes the five-pronged flame crown from his nephew’s head and says with his heart breaking in two, you need to live.

He does not say, I am too selfish to lose you too, and Iroh does not say, I cannot grieve for another son.

He should have done it sooner, he thinks, seeing his nephew look so small in the palace infirmary with bandages around his shoulder and bags under his eyes. He should have done it sooner, he thinks, holding his nephew in his arms as he shatters.

(Iroh has not always been a good man, and he has not always been a good uncle. This, he thinks, is the first step towards being better.)

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla:post canon #atla: canon divergence #zuko #atla: ozai parenting #atla:angst #complete #10to20k #mature #fic rec

1 note · View note

xviruserrorx · 1 year

Text

Title: "The Rain Before The Rainbow"

Chapter 6/7: "Hurt And Grief But Don't Suffer Alone Engage With The Pain As A Motive" (DRAFT)

(Prev Chap-Edited) (Next Chap-Edited) • (Prev Chap-Non Edited)(Next Chap-Non Edited) • (Edited Chapter) • (Story Masterlist)

This fic was originally written around late 2019-early 2020 ish, but was abandoned for reasons and now I'm gonna re-write it to but I have a no-delete rule so I'm posting all the original drafts here for anyone who still wants to see them. "But Virus these are terribly written" you may say and, yeah I know, this story was one of the first things I had written after a 5-6 year writing hiatus... But here they are terrible Grammer and all!

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (Tv & Comics)

Relationship(s): Five | The Boy & Everyone

Character(s): Five | The Boy, Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves, Vanya | Viktor Hargreeves, OC - Ymir Cyprus

Important Tag(s): Alternative Universe - No Sparrow Academy, Comic Book Elements, Time Traveling, Five-Centric

Rating: Teen and Up

Warning(s): Major Character Death, Cannon Character Death

Word Count: 7,008/41,006

The Hargreeves return from 1963 and find they have averted the initial Apocalypse. The siblings return to life as it once was but now together and not expecting impending doom. Five begins to adjust to life with his siblings how it used to be but knows something is missing. By something, he means someone. What happens when Five decides to jump back in time and try to save Ben. Is he successful? Or will he face the consequences of his actions?

"The End To The Beginning, The Beginning To The End" - Tumblr | Ao3

->Next: N/A

Continue reading below or read the edited version on Ao3

(Other Works) (Request a Fic) (Navigation) (Ao3)

Five (POV)

Five started with the whole "7 superhero children who were adopted by an eccentric billionaire and raised together for the purpose to save the world."

Ymir stayed quiet the whole time mostly just focused on getting his wound to stop bleeding as he explained the unimaginable.

"Just imagine me with a black and white mask and jumpsuit." Five said now feeling slightly more lightheaded than before.

"So you're one of those Umbrella kids in the newspapers?"

Five adjusted himself and pulled up his sleeve revealing his tattoo on his wrist, "We were all numbered 1 through 7 and those were our names…. Hence why my name is Five."

"But your siblings all have names and you guys also have code names?" She said to Five making sure she got it right.

Five nodded his head, "Number Four's name is Klaus but his code name is 00.04 and is known by the public as The Séance; due to him practically being a human Ouija board."

She moved her hand behind his back and helped him stand up, putting most of his weight against the wall.

"So why don't you have a normal name?"

Five adjusted his weight to his right side and leaned his arm on the wall, "I just never wanted a name really, we were always just numbers, never anything more."

She sighed and glanced down at his wound, "We can go to the cafe under the house and I have a first aid kit in the backroom to patch you up." She looked towards where the sound of the sirens was coming from.

"We can sneak through the back door so we're not seen." She turned back around to Five who nodded his head at her. Her baby during all this had fallen asleep with the explaining of his atypical life.

She led the way as Five followed closely behind leaning on any wall he could be near for support. She led him through twists and turns of the back alley that made Five with his concussed brain confused about where they were.

The already setting sun made it hard to see exactly where she was going, even with the street lights flickering on it was still hard to make out her silhouette. The distant sirens were becoming louder and louder as they continued to walk, the piercing noise making his head throb worse.

He didn't notice when Ymir stopped and was looking back at him. He looked slightly down and saw her hand extended out towards him with her palm up. He knew what she wanted him to do… yet a part of him wanted to reject her offer. The last time he held onto somebody was when he brought all his siblings back to their timeline.

Slowly he lifted his hand and laid it in her palm, she held his hand as you would with a child when crossing a busy street. Her hand was warm and held onto his smaller hand almost like she was protective of him.

He came to a sudden halt when he ran into her, not noticing she had stopped walking. She gave him a concerned glance then moved her attention back over to what she was looking at.

"That thing you did earlier…..that's your power?" She whispered to him but her attention was still drawn to around the corner.

"Those are called spatial jumps or blinking as my siblings like to call it, I can teleport anywhere I want if my powers aren't depleted…… it's also how I got here." This really was a lot of explaining to do.

"Why didn't you try to leave before?"

Five swallowed and looked down, he didn't try to leave at any point, he felt like he could trust her for some reason. She had this parental feel to her and treated him like Diego and Allison treated him, despite him constantly reminding them he isn't a child. She reminded him of his siblings and where they were that was always home, never the mansion and all the cold memories it held but the 6 other people who he called his siblings even though they were all adopted.

Five didn't answer her question but instead leaned over and saw what she was staring at. Some police officers were already at the scene checking out the front of the shophouse, some going up the spiraling staircase that connected on the outside up to the front door of the house on top. The bottom part that was the shop was gated closed and had all the doors locked and lights off along with a sign that hung from the doorknob with the word 'closed' painted on it.

"We need to get in that door at the back," she pointed towards a door encased within the black gate they had run out of earlier. Five knew he could probably blink them to the area but it was risking it with the flash of blue it would create attracting all the officers.

Five hated cops, the only exception was Diego of course and his lady cop friend that helped out Diego. Their constant scrounging in the Umbrella Academy's business always made things extra hard for them. Five looked and saw no way of both of them getting over there without getting caught.

Five heard a gasp as Ymir pushed Five against a wall as well as herself against the wall too. Five could see from the corner of his eye two beams of lights getting closer to the place as he could hear the sound of gravel crunching underneath car tires.

'Who was there?'

Five heard the slam of a car door then a man's voice asking questions to the officers. Ymir peaked over the corner of the wall before suddenly whispering, "Now."

She pulled at his hand as he ran behind her towards the black gate. He turned and saw all the officers turned away and talking to a man in a business suit standing in front of an old beat-up mustang.

'The Husband'

She let go of his hand when they reached the gate and opened it letting Five in first before quietly closing it back up. She reached into a broken lamp that was hanging on the wall outside the back door and pulled out a key, sticking it into the lock and opening the door. Once again she pushed Five in first before stepping in and locking the door behind her.

It was completely pitch black aside from a digital clock that shone out brightly. The numbers 8:05 made Five realise how much time he had left to figure all this out to save Ben.

He blinked his eyes a couple of times as the whole place was illuminated revealing what looked like a backroom. Cots with blankets and pillows along with other chairs or bean bags were shoved into one corner of the room. The other side had a collection of cardboard boxes along with what looked similar to how their kitchen looked. A small fridge with a marble counter and cupboards stood against the wall that held another door which Five guessed went out to the main restaurant area.

There was another spiral staircase in the middle of the room that led up to a pull-down door. Ymir quickly went up the staircase and clipped the lock closed that was dangling from the handle.

Five saw her move over towards a cot covered in blankets and laid the baby down. She rushed over towards a cabinet pulling out a red box with the words 'first aid' printed on the top and walking over to Five.

She patted the flat counter, "hop up here." Five moved towards the counter but realised how tall it really was as it came up to almost his shoulders.

'Stupid 13-year-old body'

He saw a small smile creep up on Ymir's face as she moved a box over for him to step on. Five stepped up on the box and slid himself onto the counter, disposing of the blood-covered shawl, and shrugged off his blazer and vest. He would have to remember to scrub the blood out of all his clothes later.

Ymir motioned for him to lay down as he unbuttoned the very bottom buttons of his shirt and pulled his (once) white undershirt up just enough.

Five immediately wanted to close his eyes as his head hit the cool counter. His head was pounding and the throbbing feeling every time he breathed reminded him of his bruised ribs. Five let his eyes close for a second too long when a burning pain on his left where the wound was made him cry out. She was cleaning off the wound and mumbling something that Five couldn't make out as everything blurred.

"....ive."

"...H…..Ive," He tried to open his eyes at hearing something but failed and let them fall closed.

"Hey…..Five," the pain had subsided a little bit as he finally opened his eyes looking in front of him.

"Hey you need to stay awake sweetheart, does your head hurt?" 'Sweetheart', the endearment word made him want to laugh at the time Diego tried to get away with calling him that, but Five grabbed the closest thing to him (which happened to be a pair of heels that either belonged to Allison or Klaus) and chucked them at Diego.

He already missed them from what little time he was already gone. He didn't know if it was because of how delirious of the amount of pain he was in or his 13-year-old emotions taking over, but he felt like crying. He missed his siblings, he missed waking up in the morning to Diego making breakfast for everyone, Klaus' antics and rambling that never stopped, Vanya and her violin playing when she stayed over at the academy, Allison and her mother henning of the siblings, and even Luther and his grouchy attitude.

The thought didn't dawn on him that, that all was gone. Everything hit him at once and he never got a chance to process it all like usual. His siblings were dead, he had Diego's knife and Klaus' lighter in his pocket, they were gone and it was his fault.

Five felt the tears well up in his eyes as he tried to blink them away, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he nodded his head at Ymir's question. Eyes peered down at him with sympathy as he tried to look away from her glare, with his tears now streaming down his face.

He saw her with a needle and thread ready in one hand, probably to stitch the wound shut but she looked hesitant as Five brought his hands up to his face to wipe away the tears.

She carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, "I don't have any anesthetic on hand so this is gonna hurt a lot…… Ready?"

A nod of his head started the familiar pain of a needle piercing his skin threading and a thread pulling through it multiple times. He grimaced and winced at the action but he knew his tears were for something more than physical pain.

Five heard a pair of shears open and snap shut as the thread was knotted off and a white bandage was set in place. He pushed himself up so he was sitting, letting his now blood-stained white undershirt fall back down. He turned his head into the upper part of his sleeve, wiping the remaining tears collected in his eyes.

Silence filled the room as he buttoned up and tucked back in his shirt, grabbing his blazer and vest slipping them back over his head. He wanted to just save Ben and go home, two simple tasks yet they proved to be the most difficult.

"Where did you learn to do this?" He asked Ymir at seeing her perfect stitching compared to his that he'd done in the past.

She sat down in a chair, "My grandmother was a war nurse back in World War 1 and the Korean war, after World War One she had my mother but shortly after when she went out into the Korean war she was shot and killed. My mother followed after her and did the same in Vietnam but couldn't handle it anymore with so many young kids dying right in front of her. When I was born she taught me everything she knew."

Five remembered Klaus talking about Vietnam before but he never really got the details or bothered to ask him, "Why didn't you do the same?"

She quickly turned towards Five and let her expression soften a bit, "I was almost finished with nursing school when I met my husband and we both adopted a little boy. I had planned to finish and go into the nursing field but I got a call one day, my mother had passed away in a plane crash. After that, I used up all my savings and opened this cafe, a couple of years passed and I was considering going back to the medical field then I got pregnant December year before last……. We were all ecstatic to have another part of the family."

She stood up from the chair, straightening out her dress, and started rummaging through some boxes, "Five months into the pregnancy we found out it was a girl, and Pascal; our little boy who actually was about your age was so excited to be a big brother."

Five stepped down on the box and got down on the floor as he looked around, now taking in the whole area of where he was at.

"A week later he went into complete lung failure due to an infection in his port and was put into a medically induced coma." Five immediately stopped in his tracks and turned towards Ymir now listening more carefully than before.

"He had Cystic Fibrosis so he never had long but we never expected that to happen at that moment. A month passed and he never woke up, we chose to take him off the ventilator. After that everything went downhill, I don't think I ever want to do anything medical again." Five heard her chuckle on the last part but could still hear how her voice wavered through it all.

He wasn't good with comfort or dealing with others emotions that he himself could barely understand. They were never raised to be compassionate people or care about others but rather just save the world and be the best. He didn't know exactly what this disease was either so he had no way of knowing what exactly she meant entirely.

"Enough about me though…… you said you and your siblings are all the same age yet, not trying to be rude, you don't particularly look or act 16." He really should have started with the whole 58-year-old in a 13-year-olds body that is supposed to be 29 but time travel just likes to fuck things up………. Oh well

"I'm actually 13- well mentally and physically 13, I have the experience and conscious of a 58-year-old." She raised her eyebrow with a confused look on her face at him.

"Um... the time travel thing I told you I could do, the actual timeline right now it's 2019 and my siblings are all 29….. I time-traveled when I was 13 back in 2002 to the future which happened to be April 1st of 2019." Five paused and leaned up against a wall.

'This made zero sense'

"That day the Apocalypse happened where I remained the next 45 years give or take," Yup just keep going at least one thing will make sense.

"Eventually I was able to time travel back to March 24 of 2019 but because of the whole time and space continuum, I ended back up in my 13-year-old self again." Should he mention the 60s? Probably not.

"We had to divert the apocalypse twice but then we were able to return back to our timeline April 2nd the day after the apocalypse." He looked up at her expecting her to think he was crazy but instead, she looked serious.

"Okay, so how did you end up here in 2006?" She questioned him.

'Ah right'

"A couple of days ago I time-traveled from 2019 back 13 years because in….," Five looked down and checked the time on his watch.

8:40

"A day and 3 hours give or take one of my brothers die and I want to prevent that."

Another minute of silence filled the air as Five readjusted his weight onto his right side off of the fresh wound and stitches. He needed a plan of some sort and he needed to act on it soon and fast. So many things were racing through his head at having about a day to save his brother and figure out exactly how to do just that.

Ymir walked over to a door with no doorknob and pushed it open. Five trailed after her to reveal the rest of the small cafe. Small tables with two chairs on each side were placed at the corners of the cafe while much bigger tables and booths were either pushed to the walls or arranged simplistically. Metals shutters covered the see-through laminated glass walls most businesses had letting small streams of light occasionally peak through. Even with nothing being made the lingering smell of coffee and baked goods tinged the air as he followed her over to what looked like the kitchen.

They both stopped in front of a rather small door almost like something out of Alice In Wonderland while he saw her pull a ring of keys off of a nearby hook. A small bronze key was pressed between her fingers as she inserted the piece of copper into the lock turning it till there was a click.

She pushed it open and stepped back, "There's a spiral staircase in there that goes up the side of the shop and the house up to the roof in case we need to get out." She hung the keys back up but kept the door unlocked letting it close so it wasn't hanging open.

'Why were there so many secret compartments in this place!?'

They both looked up as they heard heavy footsteps followed by knocking on the house above them. Ymir put her finger over her lips and pointed back over to the door that they had both just came out of. Five walked back over to the door holding it so it didn't make noise as it swung shut until Ymir walked through and did the same, softly closing it.

His powers were useless at this point; he was too weak and had no energy, he just had to rely on running and walking like normal people. He knew Ymir wouldn't let him out of her sight so he already had to find a way to escape without her noticing.

Ymir led him over to other cots and blankets and pillows that were all on one side of the room with Imogen (the baby) asleep in one.

Five sit on the edge of one of them as Ymir stared down at her baby, "That man… was he your husband?"

Her eyebrows creased at the mention of him as she pursed her lips before nodding her head at him. He knew it was her husband but saying that right out of the bat without any prior knowledge other than what she told him was sure to freak her out.

"Why didn't you go to him and let him know you're okay?" He was pushing it but he still couldn't tell her that the same man she was married to ends up killing her and her baby. Her warm smile that was present the whole time slowly disappeared as the words left his mouth.

"It's…. A lot to explain," the hold back on her words was made apparent. Five didn't question it any further as she sat down on the cot in the middle of Him and her baby.

"We can stay in here tonight… my husband never comes down here to the cafe and even then he doesn't have any of the keys to the doors." She started laying out blankets on the cot and grabbed some laying them next to Five.

He couldn't stay here, he knew that yet the still occurring thought of her situation made Five uneasy. Five scooted back on the cot, pulling his feet up and crossing them in front of him.

Finally having a moment to take everything in he realized how itchy his cheeks were probably from dried tears that he didn't wipe away. His clothes reeked of blood and sweat which smelled all too familiar. Everything was calm and these small movements made him feel and process all that had happened.

His head throbbed and so did the rest of his body, as the thought of how many injuries his body had sustained over the small period. His head felt like it had been tumbling around in the dryer for some time, while he knew for a fact his ribs probably looked like an artist pallet with blacks, blues, purples, and reds.

The room had a crisp chill to it Five never took note of before as he looked at the blankets neatly folded up next to him. The top one looked to be some sort of embroidered quilt with different flower patterns all stitched into it creating multiple bouquets on the quilt. While the other blankets piled under were plainer and of a single color.

Across the room, there was a set of four lockers pushed opposite of the small fridge and cupboards. An awning window laid on top of the lockers that looked to be unlocked. Boxes surrounded the lockers like nobody had used them for quite some time.

Five knew he would be able to fit through the small window and not make much noise to possibly escape. Compared to the other way Ymir showed him to get to the roof, he didn't know the layout of the house and for all he knew there would be no ladder up there to get down.

He had to pretend to be asleep until she herself went to sleep, from there he could get out. Five looked up at Ymir and saw her just sitting on the cot with blankets she laid out, looking over her baby. Five turned and noticed close to her was a little boy in a picture frame, it wasn't there before she must have grabbed it from the boxes when she was rummaging.

The fact that he looked about 13, maybe older, and his jet black hair and eyes all made it apparent that this was the little boy she was talking about. Five wanted to question why something like that was shoved into a cardboard box to be forgotten.

The boy had pink highlights on the tips of his hair mostly on the bangs that curled up and hung down over the right side of his face. In the picture, he had his thumb up while holding a device of some sort in his mouth. A purple bulky looking vest was strapped around him like if he was going to go swim out in the sea. The only thing Five recognized was a nasal cannula that sat on the boy's face while the tubing wrapped in front of him off the frame of the picture.

"Is that your son," Five gestured over to the picture frame as he bent down to pull his shoes off, leaving him in his black knee-highs.

"Pascal, yeah that's him." He saw a smile return onto her face at the mention of him. She moved over and reached for the frame looking at it in her hands for a couple of seconds before offering it to Five.

Five took it in his hand and got a closer look at it. In the vest, some tubes came out and connected to a machine, while so were the other two things he was holding or connected to. The piece in his mouth had a clear tube going to a smaller machine that laid on the table in front of him. The oxygen was connected to a large blue machine in the background of the photo, while there was something else hanging out from over the vest with a clamp of some sort on it.

With all the tubes wrapped around him, he was still smiling into the camera of whoever had taken the photo.

"All the wires and tubes and everything is just his treatments to keep his lungs clear as possible," Ymir commented as Five handed back over the frame.

"So... it's a lung condition?" He really has never heard of what he had so this was new to Five.

"You could say that, but it's a gene mutation that causes all the mucus in your body to become really thick and sticky….which causes of course the breathing problems and many other things." She set the picture frame back down next to her as she laid down on the cot.

Five shrugged off his blazer and hung it on the end of the cot, but kept his vest and other things on. If he was gonna have to make a run for it he only needed to grab his shoes and blazer and not have to get fully dressed. Ymir's back was to him from the cot a few feet as he slid off his watch and faced it towards him.

9:17

Five struggled to keep his eyes open as the night passed and turned to the next day when the time ticked 12. Five grabbed his watch in his hand and sat up slowly so as to not make any noise. Sliding his blazer on he stood up and walked over to Ymir, peeking over and making sure she was asleep which she was. Five walked back over and grabbed his shoes and opted to just carry them as they would probably make noise.

He began making his way over to the boxes and lockers to climb up on to get to the window. Reaching up on his tippy-toes he slid his shoes on the top of the lockers and jumped on the first box looking back over making sure Ymir was still asleep. Crawling up on the next two boxes Five reached up and pulled himself up on top of the metal lockers. He grabbed his shoes and unhooked the latch from the bottom of the window pushing it open as far as it would go.

Five turned around where Ymir and her baby still laid asleep completely unaware of what was going on.

"I'm sorry," Five whispered to no one but himself as he put his feet first through the window and climbed through it.

Five tumbled to the ground outside the cafe, immediately remembering the stitches he had in his side as he hit the floor. He groaned as he pushed himself up trying not to make noise as the window was still opened. Slipping his shoes back on he looked around the area finally assessing it all.

He had no time or direction as to where the people who are planning to cause trouble for his siblings or to find them. He needed to get back to the academy and his only choice was to prevent them from ever leaving. Yes, it would mean waiting around for something to happen which method he wasn't very fond of. But if it allowed him to save Ben that's what he was willing to do.

Five found his way through the back alleys that he had gone through when he had gotten shot which originally started at the academy. He had to go the same way he got here, the same way back and it allowed him to stay out of sight.

Using the walls for support he made his way through all the twists and turns until he once again stood across from the Academy. The normal residence of the Umbrella Academy stood in front of him yet something unfamiliar stuck out to Five.

Diego was outside probably on patrol duty which Five definitely remembered often having to do double shifts if he or the others misbehaved. What caught his attention was who came out the front doors of the Academy as they were almost unrecognizable. With a duffle bag slung over their shoulder and what looked to be a guitar case of some sort in hand, they walked over to Diego.

Five quickly scrambled behind a post box that was nearby hoping the two didn't see him as he continued to peak over.

The short black hair and black leather outfit made Five immediately think it was Klaus but found the height and frame for the person too petite for it to be their lengthy brother. They stopped in front of Diego and brought a hand up to remove the pair of sunglasses they had on despite it being night.

"You are gonna ditch patrol right?" The voice shocked Five as it was the same one he had heard when inside the Academy a few days ago.

Vanya?!

The short jet-black hair had completely slipped past Five when he first saw her. Having mostly just caught glimpses of it more than actually looking at it long enough to process.

The makeup and outfit made her almost unrecognizable to Five compared to the academy pyjamas he saw her in previously.

"I already told you, I'll meet you downtown at Spider's, then we take the cash and leave this place behind in the dust." The way Diego referred to the Academy and talked, Five once again didn't understand what he was talking about.

"Got it, don't be late this time hot-head." The nickname for Diego made Five snicker to himself a bit as Vanya started walking down the street away from the Academy. Five was curious about what they were both doing but knowing Diego was gonna be there later on, Five started to follow Vanya.

She quickly walked down the road and caught a taxi, throwing her luggage in first before hopping in the car. Five curled his hands into fists letting the familiar blue aura surround them as he blinked into a nearby taxi. Five fell lopsided in the back seat rather than in the passenger seat which he was aiming for, as that assured him not to use his powers anymore.

The guy freaked out and started rummaging through his glove compartment before Five reached into his pocket and pulled out his switchblade on him.

Pressing it to his the guy stopped moving, "follow that car or you'd be wishing you took the day shift." He placed his hands on the wheel as he began to follow closely behind the taxi Vanya was in.

Five glanced down at his watch as both cars came to a stop across from what looked like a nightclub. Five flicked the blade closed as he stepped out of the car and smiled at the man, "pleasure doing business with you."

The car quickly sped away while he turned his attention back towards where Vanya had just gone. He kept his distance behind her until she entered the club, Five wouldn't be able to get in there. Rounding the building Five caught sight of multiple people all with instruments or dressed up in a certain way. Vanya came out of a door as she met up with what looked like a chimp almost like Pogo. She quickly unpacked the instrument and started tuning it up while the other chimp drummed out a beat on the nearby wall with his drumsticks.

"Where's that brother of yours?" The chimp asked Vanya while Five tried to get closer to hear what they were saying over the loud music in the club.

"Don't worry, Body he'll be here." As Vanya said that a roar of cheering was heard inside followed by 4 guys coming through the door drenched in sweat and covered in black makeup head to toe.

A tall well-built guy walked through the door and approached the two Five was watching, "Prime 8's you guys are up in 30, get your gear on stage while the crowd is still hyped."

'Prime 8's?'

Both of them began grabbing wrapped up cables, amps, and Vanya grabbed her guitar as they went through the door everyone was coming in and out of.

'Vanya and Diego were in a band together?'

Five knew Diego was the one who did ever treat Vanya like she wasn't one of Klaus' ghosts but rather their sister….. But no one ever told him they were in a band together. Five couldn't even remember if he read this in Vanya's book either as it seemed this whole part she skipped over mostly cutting to the chase of Ben's death.

Five continued to watch as they both finished setting up and continued to wait in this backstage area. Vanya started to pace the area as she kept frantically checking the clock that was on the wall.

'Prime 8's!!!'

Five could hear the chanting of the crowd getting louder as the 30 minutes came and went. The same guy from before walked over to both of them looking quite frustrated, "You guys are on, where's The Kraken?"

"He'll be here I promise, Spider just give him a couple of minutes," Vanya pleaded to who Five now knew was 'Spider'.

"You got 10 minutes for him to show up till I throw The Azmatics on stage." Five had a hunch that Diego wasn't coming but he didn't understand why as it seemed he actually meant what he said to Vanya.

He saw Vanya walk over to a payphone on the wall and dialed a series of numbers into it. She tapped her foot for a while before taking the phone away from her ear and slamming it back down on the receiver. Her pacing and the way she held herself definitely reminded Five that this was the same Vanya from when they were 13 and currently 29.

A minute ticked by as she reached into her pocket, popped the top of a small colored bottle, and swallow the pills dry. He wanted to reach out and tell her to stop popping what she thought was anxiety medication like candy. The rest of the minutes flew by as the crowd got louder, most likely getting impatient and some of the other bands started complaining. Yet there still was no sign of Diego as the tall man, Spider marched out the door towards Vanya.

"You and your band are lucky I even gave you a chance, now go get your gear off my stage before I let it get trashed, you're wasting my time."

"Most of the people in there bought those tickets because we were performing, not because they wanted to see any of these other opening bands," Vanya yelled at the very much taller and buff guy in front of her.

"After what happened last week with your psycho brother, you probably both don't belong here." The buff man snarled at Vanya as he turned back around to the doors.

Vanya turned around and faced the chimp whose name was Body, "5 minutes Body, he probably just got caught up in something." The next band up started collecting their stuff running past Vanya as the chimp began to pull on a jacket.

"He might be right Vanya, you're good on that guitar you can find others to play with. But that hot-headed brother of yours can't even show up for a gig on time…… I'm sorry Vanya but the Prime-8's are through." He walked out the door, to get to the stage and collect the items. Vanya hurriedly collected her guitar and duffle bag before starting to walk away from the club.

'Shit!'

Five ran around the corner and hid in the crowd of people as Vanya started to walk down the street both things in tow. Taking random turns and twists it seemed she was just wasting time rather than going somewhere. Vanya reached into her pocket taking out a cigarette and lighting it she leaned up against a store window with the news broadcasting. Five stayed behind a far distance but close enough to hear what was going on.

"The Horror and The Sèance of The Umbrella Academy are injured in an encounter with a gang in their hideout. Then The Rumour and Spaceboy were subdued….all hope was lost until The Kraken came to the rescue saving everyone and knocking out the leader of the gang…"

'They were called on a mission'

Five almost questioned whether he should have stayed at the Academy to see what exactly happened. He heard a scoff from Vanya as she threw the cigarette on the ground, putting it out before walking off down the road. She stopped at a crosswalk and hailed a taxi.

Five got closer as the taxi came to a stop and she threw her belongings into the back seat, "To the airport please, if you step on it there's 40 bucks in it for you."

'Vanya was...leaving?'

She was leaving the day before their brother died. Why was none of this in her book, why had no one told him any of this!?

Vanya slammed the taxi door closed and it sped away from where Five stood, confused, still injured, and feeling things he wasn't completely sure what they were.

He looked down at his watch and it told him it was already 2:40 in the morning. The streets had begun to die down as the time got closer to 3 leaving Five still standing where Vanya had just left. It was technically already the last day before everything was bound to happen.

He had screwed up too many times to count already from leaving his own timeline in the first place to getting caught in a trap set just for him. He was lost in his head, and with tears already had been shed he wanted everything to just be a bad dream.

A night terror he would be screaming bloody murder from, completely unaware of his siblings' attempts to comfort him until he fell back asleep and didn't remember any of it in the morning.

Asleep in his bed, clothed in his academy pyjamas probably with Diego or Allison sitting at the edge of his bed with worry painted on their face. Then breakfast would be made as all 5 other siblings clomped down the stairs with Diego already in the kitchen being very much motherly (although would never admit it) and making the siblings whatever they desired.

Yet here he was standing, wasting time and being absolutely useless. He was mocked by Klaus for having an obsession with the apocalypse, but maybe he was just addicted to making sure his family wasn't hurt or even injured. Every time someone almost died or did die he reversed time and prevented it in one way or another never allowing them to pass away…….to leave him.

In a way, he was being selfish, yet he was given powers to manipulate time as he chose. He wasn't even sure if he would be able to properly cope with any of their deaths without being tempted to fuck with the timeline.

Five began to walk in a familiar direction but not the Academy. The stitches pulled every step he took causing him more pain as he was sure they would break open again if he didn't stop running around aggravating the wound. His unreasonable anger distracted him from the pain as he pushed himself to walk faster away from the area the taxi had sped away from moments ago.

He didn't understand why he was angry, he knew all the events surrounding everything with Ben's death were kept under lock and keep by his siblings. But he didn't know so many things happened that even the world didn't from what Vanya wrote so many years later that tore the siblings even farther apart.

Reading that stupid book was all Five had of a memory of his siblings when every living thing was dead and humanity was wiped out. He thought he had a piece of his childhood back from that book after missing 16 years of it. But apparently, he couldn't even have that as most of it seemed to be based on a lie like Allison's rumours.

Five didn't notice his nails digging into the fleshy part of his palm until he kicked a nearby trash can, running his hands over his face. He needed to be saving Ben not worrying about everything else, yet it seemed like everything was hopeless. He started to walk which quickly progressed into a full-on sprint. Every inch of his body screamed at his actions yet his mind felt it was just right.

He could feel blisters starting to form on the soles of his feet as they rubbed up against dress shoes which were not made for running. Yet he continued to run as every breath grew harder to take. The deep breaths quickly turned to sobs as he kept running, choking on his tears. He knew not to fuck with the timeline yet here he was in 2006 alone and finding out secrets he now knew why his family hid from him. All his emotions were getting tangled up like earbuds forgotten in someone's pocket or backpack.

He ran and ran and ran till he couldn't anymore. His watch eventually struck 4 then 5 then 6 and so on and so forth. The birds chirped as the moon switched with the sun as life bounced back to the streets. Yet somewhere tucked behind an old building The smallest Hargreeves laid there passed out, lifeless and unconscious…..

#virusfanfic

0 notes

hawnks · 3 years

Text

Eggshells and Dynamite pt. ii

shigaraki tomura x reader

r18

word count: 8,090

[soulmate AU, soft yandere, shigaraki-centric, obsessive shigaraki, food as a love language, mentions of panic attacks, explicit content, intimacy kink, mild foot kink don't look at me]

Everything hurts. Some things get better, sometimes.

His self control wanes, after the incident with your panties. Incident, he thinks of it, like an inevitable. Like he’s not just some kind of horrible pervert.

He’s accepted it, the moniker. Pervert. He would probably let himself be anything, no matter how disgusting, so long as he could get some relief.

It must be biological, soulmate related. He can’t imagine this is normal, the way he wants you. Like he’s starved, like a single touch would make him bust on the spot. He’s had to schedule alone time every night just to keep himself from going off the deep end. He’s still half-hard most of the time.

Most nights he wakes in the small hours, throbbing and drenched in sweat. He rushes to the bathroom to rub one out, praying, fearing, meeting you on the way. The sight of you so precious and terrible, it makes him want to fall to his knees and beat the ground.

He thinks he’s starting to believe in karma; you’re a divine punishment.

And god — are you divine.

Everything about you is a constant tease. The curve of your thighs and the hip-sway of your gait. The space where your ear curls into your throat. The sound of your voice. The pat of your footsteps.

You’re going to kill him.

Maybe he wouldn’t care, if you did. Anything, he’ll take anything from you, and lick the bowl clean.

Just fucking — look at him.

Even that has become pearl-rare. You avert your gaze so quickly he's afraid you might get whiplash some days. And, yes, he thinks vindictively. He’s not much to look at, but he’s yours. Your own punishment, the whole of your relationship sick and balanced.

You deserve each other. Maybe. Somehow.

He doesn’t know.

Doesn’t know how this is supposed to work. How you could have done anything to deserve this, him. Whatever strange and unfortunate life he can give you. Whatever strange and unfortunate life he’s desperate to give you.

He’s started wearing gloves, all the time. Just in case. For what, he doesn’t know, but the idea that he could —

He’s changed his schedule. Wants to be around more when you’re awake. Wants to make sure you’re sleeping well, at the right times. That you don’t go hungry.

He shadows you constantly, aware that you’re aware of him. Unable to stop himself.

And one night he does catch you. In the hallway, on your way back from the kitchen.

He’s sticky all over, from sweat and his own slick, his lust not even spent yet but so incredibly messy. You look so small compared to him, in that moment. And he knows he could have you, he could back you up against the wall, breathe you in, listen to your murmured denials, rut against the soft fat of your stomach until he finally cums. He’s so much bigger, stronger than you. He could simply take.

That’s what sensei would have told him to do. That’s what’s in his nature. Villain.

But he doesn’t. Instead he’s swamped with the urge to keep you safe, make you happy. More than anything, he wants you to want it, too.

He looks at you, looking at him, the both of you caught up in the spiderweb tension of this. He looks at you, looking at the damp curl of his hair, the clinging fabric of his shirt, the tent in his pants.

Your fault, he doesn’t say. All you.

Your lips are parted slightly, the surprise of it all making it hard to mask your feelings.

You’ve just eaten something — isn’t it too late for dinner? won’t you make yourself sick? — and the smell is all mixed together. Oil and the musky fragrance of your skin. The soap you wash your hands with, a different soap for your face. And him, layered over everything, the inescapable scent of unspent sex smothering it all.

He passes you without a word, breathing deeply as you go by, trying to keep you in his lungs until he can get a hand around his cock. Ease his suffering, just a little.

…

To your surprise, after your first week, there were no more episodes. No more crawling into yourself, afraid of being ripped apart by your own pounding heart. You’re almost— calm, in this place. At peace in a strange, noxious way.

Is this a beacon of healthy adult living? Of course not. But none of the self help books you’ve read have ever brought you even close to this level of stability. At least you’re not having breakdowns in the storeroom every other day. At least you don’t have to worry about your life slipping through your fingers at the slightest provocation.

Shigaraki seems to know this. Instinctively, maybe. Or maybe because he’s always watching you. And you know he is. Like a bird of prey, circling, a distinct sharpness to his gaze that makes you doubt his every action.

What does he want?

What do you want?

Some deep dark part of you —

Likes this. The situation, the push and pull of it, everything natural, instinctive. The power of it. You understand it in a way you couldn’t understand your old life, seem to know all the rules here, all the stakes.

Which is why you know you can mouth off to one of the most dangerous men in the world without repercussion.

The food he brings gets progressively harder to eat. Not that it’s overly complicated or intricate, just that it’s so healthy and tasteless you can’t stomach it.

The night he brings you a cut of unseasoned tofu you glance at it once before shoving it back at him. “No thanks.”

“You’re gonna starve to death,” he snaps, staring down at the plate. He’s hovering over you as you sit on the cot, the plate gripped between both hands. He’s scowling.

You just shrug, in response, which seems to ignite something in him. His gaze goes steely and hot, fingers flexing.

“This is why,” he murmurs.

“Huh?”

“This is why you need me.” He gestures to you, your sunken eyes and cheeks. You look fragile. Like your bones are hollow as a birds. “You’ll starve yourself.”

You resist the urge to hiss back at him. There’s something pulled taut in him today, like he’s a moment from snapping.

And besides, you wouldn’t starve. Kurogiri looks out for you, keeps the kitchen stocked with snack food for grazing. You don’t eat meals, but you’re not constantly empty. It’s enough.

Enough to have you turning your nose up at the plate Shigaraki has begun to inch toward you again.

“No thanks,” you say again. The same cadence as fuck off.

His upper lip twitches, like he’s about to bite you. You just sit there, waiting for his retaliation. Waiting for him to hurt you.

You see it in his eyes, the tension around his hands. His biceps bulge with restraint. Right where his soulmark would be.

He wants to come to you, to pounce on you. Smother you with his whole body weight. Bury his face against your throat. The image is so clear in your mind you can feel it.

When was the last time you were touched without the intent to harm? When was the last time you were touched at all? The thought makes you want to dig your claws into your own skin, to take any sensation you can. You want to stop feeling anything at all, or maybe to drown it out with overwhelming sensation. You want him to stop looking at you.

You want — control.

“I used to feed myself, if you can remember,” you say. “I wasn’t always your pet.”

The word ‘pet’ seems to take him by surprise, sap him of some of his ire. You watch raptly as a blush darkens his cheeks. “It’s good for you,” he mutters.

Clearly he hasn’t been thinking of you as a kept creature, but then what are you in his mind? You say, “It doesn’t taste good.”

“It will make you stronger,” he returns, then quickly amends, “It will keep you healthy.”

You shake your head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Shigaraki clicks his tongue. His expression has gone neutral, darkly inquisitive.

You say, “What’s the point of just living?”

He leaves the plate on the floor by your feet.

…

The next night he enters your room like he’s storming it. He doesn’t have something freshly cooked for you, but a convenience store bag, the yellow smiley staring at you vacantly.

“I’m tired of watching you starve yourself,” he says.

Your patience is a dry well. You stand, intending to cow him, back him right out the door. Or maybe you just want to argue, want some release from this constant tension eating at you. “Would you fucking stop with this?” you snap. “Belittling me, condescending to me. I’m so sick of it—“

“I care about you.” It’s no less startling for how softly it’s spoken. He seems to know it will have that effect on you, because he says, “I care about you and I’m asking you to sit down,” and you comply instantly.

He’s still hovering

”I want things to be easier for you,” he says finally. It’s spoken with the soft assurity of a leader. Someone who’s heard without raising his voice. “That’s it.”

He’s holding onto the bag. A part of you wants to tell him to hand it over so you can throw it back in his face. Get this over with. Get him away.

But doesn’t let go of the handles, the plastic dimpling in his iron grip. He’s looking at where his fingers curl, pinky left safely out, despite the gloves. Must be hard to break a habit when the consequence is so dire.

“There’s something out of the ordinary in you. Maybe you were born with it. Maybe it got dropped at your feet like a dead bird. But it’s inside you and there’s no getting rid of it.”

The words echo through you, barely touching down.

You wonder, absently, what he’s brought you. It was probably hard to pick out something tasteless and wholesome from the pre-made meal selection. You think about the wall of sandwiches in your old place of work. You think about the owner, arriving back to his store in ruins.

“Life seems to fold around you, doesn’t it?” he says. “Like everyone else is pointed in some direction, at some thing, but you’ll never be able to reach it. You’ve always known that.”

You’re hungry. You haven’t let yourself think about it, too swept up in righteous indignation. But you’re hungry.

You wish he’d stop talking.

“And you’ve always known that you’re not that different from everyone else. So why? Why did you get the short stick? Why is everything so hard for you?” he says. “You’re angry, but you won’t admit it. Not at me. Not at yourself. At the world. The people who outpaced you just because you’re not the same.”

You wish you could just eat.

“It’s okay to be mad. Furious, even,” he tells you. “It’s okay to not be grateful for scraps.”

He’s looking at you now, waiting for something.

You don’t know what he wants from you, how you’re supposed to respond. You guess his words aren’t really sinking in, floating at the edge of your consciousness. Were you even listening?

All you can think about is how hungry you are. Starving. You’d probably take anything he gave you, at this point.

You point at the bag he’s clutching. “What did you bring me?”

He blinks at you for a moment. Then he opens it, shakes it out onto the bed before you. The items fall with a plastic crinkle. It’s all junk food. Chips and sweet bread. An oily entree. It was the kind of meal you would have bought yourself as a child, indulgent and bad for you.

You pull a bag of konpeito sugar candy from the stack. They’re shaped like tiny stars, assorted pastel pinks and yellows.

“I used to eat these all the time when I was little,” you say. You tear open the bag, a few of the candies tumbling out and onto the bed, between your knees. “I used to hold them in my mouth and wait for them to dissolve.”

You crook a finger at him, beckoning him closer. He’s slow to comply, the look in his eyes almost dreamlike as he leans down. You tap a finger to his lip, he opens, obediently. Gently, you place one of the candies on his tongue, sakura pink, the color of his blush.

His mouth hangs open for a moment even after you pull away. His eyes don’t leave yours when he finally closes it, tonguing at the morsel like he’s imagining something else.

“Good boy,” you whisper to him.

He stands abruptly, scowling, flushed. He leaves.

…

You make pancakes for breakfast. The rest of the LOV members are out on a mission this morning, so it’s just you and Dabi at the table.

He grills you about Shigaraki as you cook. “How big is it,” is the first question on his roster, before you threaten to dump the batter on his head.

“Whoa, easy there,” he returns, grinning, “Curiosity ain’t a crime.”

You go back to your mixing, muttering about how you wouldn’t know anyway, which he catches, to your horror and his delight.

Dabi thinks the whole situation is hilarious, of course. That Shigaraki was actually interested in someone at all was somewhat of a shock to the league members, let alone that he seems to be whipped right out the gate.

“He seems like an incel, right?” Dabi notes, taking the steaming plate you offer him. “But he never cared about that shit. Getting laid, or whatever. If it wasn’t for the world class hentai collection I would have thought he was a monk.”

He pours a generous helping of syrup over his stack, then reaches across the table and does the same for yours. “But he’s got other things to focus on, I guess. No time for mud fights and body shots when there’s a society to change.”

“Do monks always plot world domination?” you ask.

Dabi gives you a precursory glance. “If he hasn’t laid hands on you yet, there must be something wrong with him.”

You should be skeeved out by the comment, but it just makes you laugh. This place must be getting to you. “Didn’t your boss almost kill you the last time you tried something.”

He shrugs. “No problem with looking.”

“I think some people would disagree.”

“Yeah,” Dabi says, his tone strangely placid, almost pleasant. “He might really kill me next time.”

“I’d stop him,” you say, thinking of the day Shigaraki tackled on him, threatening murder.

He smirks. “I’m not sure even you could at this point, babe.”

The table grows quiet after that, the both of you focused on eating. Dabi snags your plate when you’re finished, dumping it in the sink.

“I don’t think he knows what to do with you,” he says, on the way out the door. “I don’t think you know what to do with each other.”

Despite your better judgment, curiosity wins out. You sneak into Shigaraki’s room after that. You don’t find the hentai, or anything of the sort.

His room is less bachelor pad and more mad scientist, papers scattered everywhere, sticky notes on all the walls. His desk is cluttered with cups (all the ones you use, you notice) and a PC set up. Tucked into the corner of his monitor is a picture.

A candid of you, one that Toga took a while ago. No filter, but little sloppily drawn hearts adorn all the edges. It’s soft to the touch, like it’s been held and held.

You wonder where he got it, if he had to ask, or if someone just knew he would want it.

You wonder why he cares.

You wonder how long that will last.

…

You’re watching the news on Shigaraki’s PC, barely paying attention to the stories that roll by. You’re thinking about your nails, how you might finally be able to paint them. You’ve almost nixed your habit of tearing at them, and they’re longer now than they’ve probably ever been. Absently, you wonder what color Shigaraki would like you in, if he’d have any preference at all.

And then— a still frame crosses the screen. The empty lot where your workplace used to be. No one had bothered to clean the mess, it was too expensive and no contractor would want to build there anyway. What’s left is all dust. The remnants of your old life.

In an instant your throat is cinched tight, your chest can’t expand to take in any air. You can’t peel your eyes off the screen.

That used to be your life— and now there’s nothing to go back to. It’s all gone. You’re gone.

And now you’re dying, too. Your heartbeat like gunshots in your chest, under oxygenated, over excited. Maybe you really will bite it this time. Maybe this is how you go, unrecognized, life lost in all ways.

You don’t have the mental space to think about why or how Shigaraki is here. Coincidence? Maybe he just felt your distress, soulmate bond or whatever.

But he’s there at your side staring at you as you gasp, hesitating, wincing. He makes a move to grab you several times, but keeps coming up short. He doesn’t know what to do.

He asks questions you’re not able to answer, too occupied with the crushing sensation beneath your ribs, the sight of everything you used to be turned to ash on the screen.

Finally he reaches around you, shuts off the monitor with a small sound of displeasure. He doesn’t back off, after, stays curved around your back, over the chair. He wraps an arm around your chest, his wrist against the bare skin at the base of your throat.

You feel him, then. In increments, surrounding you. The heat and the pressure. The whisper of his breath. The soft pulse of his own heartbeat, pushing up against yours. Fighting it down. Smoothing it out.

He holds onto you for what feels like an eternity. Time is always strange when you come down, your exhaustion warping everything.

“You should go to bed,” Shigaraki says finally, like he can read your thoughts. Still, he doesn’t move.

You reach a hand up to cup his wrist. Your fingers find the prominent vein there, feel the blood moving through him. You’re gripping too tight, but he says nothing. Just lets you dig into him.

The position is slightly awkward. The high back of the chair is still between you, and he has to snake around it to maintain his hold. But he’s so warm. And you’re so tired.

You’re almost woozy now, barely conscious. You sigh, as close to content as you could be, all bundled up and held tight.

“Who even am I, anymore?” you say.

He pauses, for the briefest second. “Whoever you want to be,” he rasps, his arm tightening infinitesimally against your chest.

But you can feel it as surely as if he’d said it. Mine.

…

You wake in his bed, the lights all dimmed, his monitor unplugged completely. He’s left you a note. He’d probably left it on the pillow next to you, but you’d turned in your sleep and it’s stuck to your arm now, slightly crumpled.

Anything, it says, a reminder, the scrawl identical to the words running across your chest.

…

The day is average. You chat with Kurogiri, ignore Dabi’s slightly off-colored jokes.

Shigaraki gets back late. So late it’s not anymore, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table watching the door as he slumps through it.

His eyes catch you immediately. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You almost laugh. “Shouldn’t you?”

The truth is, you’re not sure why you’ve waited up. Part of you wants to explain it away, you’re just not tired, you’re bored, antsy being cooped up in here all the time.

But the truth is you’re curious. About him. About the both of you.

He grunts. He glances at the stairs, where his room is, just around the bend.

“Where is everyone else?” you ask.

He glances at you, wary. Like you’re about to pull some nasty trick. “Someplace safe, at their discretion. They’re staying out of trouble for a few days.”

You peer at him in the dark. He’s covered in grime, streaks of something— blood?— matting his clothes, his hair. He looks exhausted. “You did something bad today, didn’t you,” you say.

“That’s objective.”

He edged closer. Just a step. He looks at your hands where they’re folded on the table, at your face, masked by the dark. “Are you going to bed soon?” he asks. For once it doesn’t sound like an admonishment. Softer, less imperious.

“Shigaraki,” you murmur. Have you ever said his name before? At the sound of it he grows restless, antsy. “Let’s go upstairs.”

He follows you obediently, and you direct him to the shower, “You’re all…gross.” Retreat to your own room. Lay on the bed and look at the ceiling. Lose track of time.

You wonder if he’s hurt. That must be a byproduct of fighting constantly. There’s no way to walk away unscathed every time, even if he’s the biggest, baddest villain on this side of the equator.

Who heals him? Kurogiri must have some part in it; he’d bandaged your own wounds a few times since you came to the hideout. You're sure Shigaraki would do that for you too, if you asked. But — would you want him to? Could you let yourself be hurt in his presence? Would it destroy you?

You think you’d like to be the one to clean Shigaraki’s wounds from now on. You think you can make it hurt less.

The door opens with the quietest click. He’s standing before you in an instance, at your bedside, peering at you in the half-light of encroaching dawn.

“You look like a drowned cat,” you whisper.

He says nothing. Just stares down at you, hair still wet, damp patches on his loose shirt where he didn’t pay dry well enough. He smells, disconcertingly, of lavender. It's your own shampoo, the scent you requested Toga grab for you. The thought of him standing wearily under the spray, using your things to get clean— makes your throat sting.

“What do you want?” you ask, quietly. Too quietly.

The air goes stagnant for a minute. There’s a grim look to him right now, like maybe you’ve found the line, how far you can push him before he becomes to you who he is to everyone else. Before he’s the villain here, too.

But then, finally, he says, “Just let me touch you.”

The answering pounding in your chest is hot, wild. You feel high with it, the quiet shudder of his voice, the way he’s looking up at you through his bangs so petulantly.

Your mind is swamped with thoughts of him, and your lavender shampoo. Of wanting so desperately, even the sight of the other person feels like salvation, feels like a buoy in an endless sea.

“You want it?” you ask. He nods. You say, “You really want it?”

Another nod. His hands twitch at his sides, like he’s imagining it, like he’s barely holding himself back.

And isn’t this what you’ve been craving? You see him wanting to the point of despair and it fills something in you, dark, decadent. Awful.

You say, “Then beg.”

He looks at you then, something like hurt flashing across his features before his expression goes blank, closed off. He’d do it, for you. He’d do anything.

“Please—“

The word barely makes it into the room before you’re throwing yourself against him, slapping a hand over his mouth, cutting him off.

“No,” you say, filled with a sudden bevy of horror. Almost— guilt. “Dont.”

Part of you teeters on an apology, but what would that do? Because another part of you still wants to hurt him, still wants him on his knees. Craves the power of that.

He looks at you, fish-eyed. He lets out a long, humid breath against fingers. You think he might lick them, can see the thought churning in his head. But he doesn’t.

He pulls away, and you let him. His chest is rising in big, heavy inhales, exhales.

“Can I see it?” His voice is quiet. You can barely hear it.

He’s all hunched in on himself, shoulders slumped, chin tucked. He hardly looks like a villain at all, right now. More like a man waiting to be rejected.

You know what he wants, he doesn’t have to elaborate. Your soulmark seems to throb under your shirt, like it’s calling out for him, like it wants the same thing.

Your hands hover between you like little birds, ready to push or pull at a moments notice. You say, “Sit down.”

You stand as he does so, reversing your positions. You tap your knee against his, opening up his legs, biting down a mean grin when you see him tense, shocked and unsure.

Your fingers pluck at the hem of your shirt — one you’d stolen from him — hesitating for just a moment. Then you’re stripping out of it, letting it flutter silently to the floor.

You stand there in your bra and sweatpants, arms loose at your sides. Strangely, you don’t feel any shame, any self-loathing. Maybe it’s because you can sense how thirsty he is for the sight, any blemishes or imperfections falling by the wayside with how much he wants you.

He’s so still as he stares at you, like he’s made of glass, like one wrong move would shatter him completely.

“I always knew it would be a bad guy,” you say, after a moment of stillness. “I never had any delusions about my future.”

You look at the mark yourself. It’s stark, prominent. Growing up the words had been wine colored, but they had darkened into a coal black in the last few years. The deepest shade you’ve ever seen a soulmark, save for Shigaraki’s. Most considered the meaning of coloration superstition. None of it had been confirmed, of course, but the going myth is that the darker your mark the more intense the bond.

If you believed it, yours might be heavy enough to sink you both.

You trail your fingertips across the scratchy scrawl of it. It’s not pretty, but interesting to look at. Art, almost, in the way it spiders across your skin.

You glance at him; he’s waiting, shaking.

Slowly, you reach a hand out, barely grazing his forearm. He flinches like your touch burned him.

You take his wrist anyway, drawing it in, closer. You turn his hand so his middle knuckle brushes against your skin, right at the out end of your mark. His hands are chapped and the touch of them raises gooseflesh all over your body, the delicate rasp heady and strange.

He’d taken his gloves off to shower, forgot to put them back on. His flesh is bare against yours.

Shigaraki is panting now, open mouth, chest rising in big, desperate gulps. Muscle jumps beneath your grip, like he can’t decide whether to pull away or not. But he lets you move him, lets you trace over the breadth of your soulmark, back and forth, like he’s rubbing it in.

His hand is fisted, white knuckled. Some of the drier skin begins to crack under the tension, the slightest bit of blood welling there. You want to lick it off, shocking yourself with the thought.

He’s moving by himself now, testing the weight and pressure of his touch against your skin, what makes you gasp, or shudder. What ways he can affect you.

You’re so sensitive in that spot, it must be rubbed raw. But you don’t stop him, and he doesn’t offer, tracing over and over the letters. All the while his gaze doesn’t stray, not even to the cleavage just a few centimeters lower. His attention is caught by those words, obsession and cat-like interest in his eyes.

“I didn’t believe you existed,” he says.

And you feel the afterthought in your gut. I thought I was alone.

You step away from him, breaking the contact. Reality floods you both. Like the moment is suspended in a flash of lightning.

You slink out of the room without looking back, bare skin growing frigid as you rush into the bathroom. You take a shower so hot it burns.

You think about how you’ll look at him the next time you see him, if everything or nothing has changed with this one instance.

It doesn’t matter, in the end.

…

“Where did he go?”

You finally rack up the nerve to ask Kurogiri on the fourth day of Shigaraki’s absence. He’s shining a cup at the counter, his ghostly face gazing back at you.

Shigaraki comes and goes, just like everyone else. Sometimes he’s gone for long periods, but this is the longest yet.

“Did he not tell you?” Kurogiri asks. At the shake of your head, he turns away. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

You want to reach out for him, pull him back, so you can look at him head on. “Is he—“

Okay?

It gets caught in your throat. Are you allowed to ask? Are you allowed to care?

“I’m sure he’ll be back shortly,” Kurogiri says. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t look at you again until you’re halfway out the door, heading back to your room.

…

Shigaraki is gone for four weeks.

The fucker.

…

Your curiosity turns to rage in short order.

How dare he. How dare he leave you. How dare he make you care. He dragged you here, turned your world inside out, and —

Abandoned.

The word rests in the back of your throat, always, as heavy as an iron nail.

It’s been a companion to you as long as you can remember, navigating the world distinctly alone, as only the truly fucked up can.

Like he said — there’s something out of the ordinary in you. Broken, he meant.

Wasn’t he the one who’s supposed to fix it?

But that never seemed to be his end goal, watching over you, not like a god, but a supplicant. Taking everything, everything, as it is.

The notion makes you seethe.

You’ve snooped through all of his belongings, save for what’s locked away. You find pieces of your life hidden throughout. Articles of your clothing, doodles you’ve made on napkins, books you’ve read. All of it integrated so seamlessly into the mess, like they’re his own, like they’ve always belonged to him.

You’ve taken to sleeping in his room. Curling up under the covers, piling more on so they weigh you down. The sheets have stopped smelling like him and started smelling like you. You think that makes you angrier than anything.

You smother yourself with his pillows, douse yourself with the few hoodies he’s left behind. It doesn’t make up for the ache.

You hate him.

You miss him.

…

There’s only so much seething you can do. Eventually, you grow bored. So you leave.

You tuck your hair into a cap, don a full outfit of Shigaraki’s clothes that sags on your body, obscures your shape.

You can’t remember the last time you actually left the hideout. Sometimes you loitered just outside, talking to whoever was having a smoke. But mostly, you were an indoor soulmate.

You’re still not quite sure where you are – no one ever bothered to tell you. But the further you go, the more you recognize, until finally you’re back where this all started. The convenience store. What remains of it, anyway.

You waddle through the mess, thinking about the last time you’d seen it, how it had set you off. Now you just feel a vague longing, and not even for the right thing.

Very little is left. Shigaraki’s quirk had decimated almost everything, and the rubble had been picked clean in the following days. You see bits of the counter, the shelves. Wrappers from food the shop didn’t even sell. A crimped wire that must have belonged to the old radio that hung in the corner.

It was mostly useless. It was off most days, so you and your cohorts could ‘focus on what’s important’ (your manager’s words). When it was on, it was auto-locked on a public-access channel. Through the day it would shuffle through smooth jazz hours to concise news soundbites to features about anything and everything.

There’s one you remember, distinctly. A piece about a planet. It was discovered years and years ago. That day was the anniversary, though, and the segment was talking about its discovery, the fuss it kicked up in the science community.

You don’t remember the name of it, but you remember the year it was discovered. You remembering caring a lot about it, at the time.

It’s all you can do, to head straight for the library, begin your investigation.

The planet’s name is Kepler-16b, and it’s a frigid giant made from half-rock, half-gas. Roughly the size of Saturn. The first of its class. A circumbinary planet, one that orbits two stars, which orbit each other.

The thought soothes something in you. The mere existence of this thing some kind of balm. You imagine a place with dual sunsets, the sky twice as bright. Strange and beautiful.

You learn that because of their position, there’s a particular and fantastic phenomenon circumbinary planets experience. One sun, eclipsing the other. A constant cycle of light overtaking light, burning bright enough to smother its twin.

You fall down the rabbit hole. For hours, you read about stars. Their life cycles and their anatomy. Their weight and presence. You read about planets too, bizarre and far-off. Impossible and wonderful.

It consumes you until the lights go out, and the librarian kicks you out, promising that you can return tomorrow, everything would be waiting for you still.

So you come back the next. And you keep coming back.

Anything, you think, must be this.

…

You feel it, when he returns, finally. You rise up from your nest in his bed, waiting until he appears in the doorway, his body a shadow, lit from the back.

He looks —tired.

You want to bundle him in close, brush the hair from his eyes. You want to – god help you – feed him something good for him, tell him to go to bed as soon as he’s done.

But you can’t.

Because you’re still furious.

“Where did you go?” you demand.

He doesn’t answer, watching you, gaze wolfish, strange. “I missed you.”

“You left me,” you hiss, edging toward him, expecting him to yield, like always. But he doesn’t. He lets you pull in close, chest brushing, breaths hot and mingled.

“I missed you so goddamn much,” he whispers.

“Are you an idiot?” you snap, nearly hysterical. “What if you died? What if you’d gotten killed?”

His expression hasn’t changed. Still doggedly intent. Still trained on only you. “I wouldn’t.”

“But what if you did?” You’re not making sense. Desperate with no outlet, no safe harbor. You feel the panic welling, dread shortening your breath, making your chest vice-tight. “What if you’d left me alone?”

He comes toward you, settles beside you on the bed. His expression is tender, fierce. It nearly chokes you.

You ask, “What if you didn’t come back?”

There’s a moment of nothing. Just you, together, in silence. You think he might just not reply at all, but then—

“What if I didn’t?” he says. Breathes the word like he has no voice left to say it.

Tears well before you even know what’s happening. They stream down your face, fat and ugly. You’re not a pretty crier, and this is worse than usual, your breaths turning to gasps immediately.

He opens his arms to you and you go, crawl into his embrace like a wounded animal, bury your face against the worn material of his shirt. He doesn’t smell like lavender, today.

The balls of his fists rest against your upper back and your waist. Your knees are slightly bent where they lay— you weren’t thinking about comfort when you came to him. But the thought of letting an inch of space between you to adjust fills you with dread.

You can feel the satisfaction rolling off him in waves. Clutching you like this. Like he’s always wanted. If you cared to pull back and look, you think he might be grinning.

And, maybe, in some ways you have conceded something.

But you don’t feel like you’ve been tricked, and nothing about the way he’s rocking you so gently could be devious.

The hideout is silent, save for the two of you. Your sobs tapering as he continues to soothe you. He’s murmuring something against your scalp, but it’s too low for you to hear.

You never realized just how big, how strong he is. His body is firm under your own, well muscled and powerful. You feel— safe.

He makes you feel safe. Somehow. Somehow.

“I would be alone,” you whisper, against his throat.

His arms tighten around you. “I instructed Kurogiri to watch over you, while I was gone.”

You shake your head. “Not the same.”

And it’s not, of course. You can’t think of anyone else on Earth who could drag you this low, break you down this completely. You can’t think of anyone else you’d want wrapped around you like this, the steady throb of his heartbeat, the deep, rasping breaths threaded through your hair.

“It was always meant to be different,” he says. “The two of us.”

His voice is hazy, far away. You’re starting to drift off in his arms, exhausted from crying.

“I never wanted to be different,” you tell him.

“I know,” he returns. Distantly, through the first layer of sleep, you feel the brush of his lips against your temple. It’s open-mouthed, just a little too soft. Like he doesn’t know how to kiss someone, like he’s never done it before. Like he’s never had a reason to. “I know.”

…

You wake and he’s wrapped around you. You’re half-sprawled on his chest, one arm cinched in a death-grip around your waist, the other raised to tangle a hand in your hair. He’s wearing the gloves you realize, two fingers, the kind artists use. You wonder if he had the foresight to know this was coming, or if he was thinking about you, too, while he was away.

He’s awake when you peek up at him. “Good morning,” he whispers, softly, almost cautiously.

Something about the morning light softens him. All the deep rivulets of his skin, more mosaic than painful. His eyes are pink-ish against the blanket of sunlight.

“I read, when you were gone,” you say, just as soft.

He hums, a leading sound.

“About stars, and planets. Everything.” You raise one hand, brush your fingers through his hair. It’s full of knots, and you’re patient as you ply through them, detangling. “The universe is mostly empty space, you know. Existence is an anomaly. Every single thing in the world is miraculous – isn’t that nice?”

He’s closing his eyes now, basking in your touch, the sound of your voice.

You say, “I think that’s what I want to do. Just learn things. As much as possible.”

“You can,” he rumbles. You feel it in your own chest. “I’ll help you.”

You lean up to brush your nose against his. He cracks his eyes open to watch you. He’s not quite smiling, but his face has lost the tension it usually holds. Peaceful. He says, “I really did miss you.”

And suddenly nothing matters. Not him leaving. Not what came before it. Just you, and him. This. This this this.

You kiss him, then, clumsily, feeling like a soulmate for the first time in your life. He opens his mouth to you instantly, turns things wet and slick, drags his tongue against yours, against the back of your teeth, your gums, the inside of your cheek.

He pulls you tighter, closer. Further up his body, tugging your full weight on top of him, groaning when you finally relinquish it and settle against him.

You pull away, evading as he tries to follow you, tries to kiss you again. You squirm in your shirt, tugging at his simultaneously until he finally reaches up and rids you both of them.

Then you’re half naked in his lap, staring at him as he’s staring at you. He’s looking at the space below your clavicle, where his words sit heavy as a stone. He’s leaning in, as close as he can, his tangled hair brushing against your skin, his nose pressing against the thin skin of your throat.

You can feel his shuddering breath, leeching across your shoulder as he crowds you. Then you feel – his tongue. Tracing the ink-dark spot. Dragging so slowly over your skin.

He falls into you. Hands grabbing, teeth clashing. It’s messy, and all at once. You have trouble keeping up with him, only know that he’s surprisingly dexterous in the onslaught. He’s good at getting you to writhe.

“Mine,” he says, teeth pressing against your throat. Not quite biting, just letting you feel the pressure of them there, the promise. “You’re mine.”

He fists a hand in your hair, tilts your head back until he’s cradling it. He tongues at the place where your ear meets your jaw, gnaws gently on the fat of your cheek.

“Say it,” he murmurs, wet and hot. His eyes so close and boring into yours.

You could. You are. To your marrow. In your blood.

But a part —the part he’s cultivated, maybe—wants to push.

You catch his lips, the faintest pressure against them. “Make me,” you whisper into his mouth.

You expect him to grab you, push you down or drag you against him. You’re braced for it, your legs stiff, arms poised to grab back.

But he climbs off you. Sinks to his knees. Yanks you by your hips to the edge of the bed.

You can’t help your gasp as he drags down your shorts and panties in one motion, or the next one, as he buries his face directly in your cunt. Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of build up, you think, some rise? But you're wet already and he knows it, taking long, deep breaths, filling his lungs with you. He lingers for a moment before nuzzling his face down your thigh, leaving drooling, open mouth kisses along the way.

He meaders down your legs, pausing to nibble, or lick. He holds you so tightly the flesh dimples in his grip. His lips are dry, the skin severely cracked. They catch on the stubble of your legs every so often, and you can’t imagine the prickliness could feel good to him. But he keeps going, brow lowered over steely eyes, rapt, drunk.

He reaches your ankle, bent all the way over, chest against the floor just to keep his mouth on you. Indelicately, he takes your heel in his hand, and the sudden disrupt of balance sends you tumbling back into the sheets.

He licks you there, too, from the rounded edge of your foot to your toes, pausing to tease his teeth over the tips, to suck each one into his mouth, lathe them dripping and hot. He does the same with the other, humming around your toes, making you feel strangely giddy.

You look at him, on his knees, at your feet.

You want to eat him alive.

Eventually he makes his way back up, and up, and up. Back to your cunt, tacky with slick, glistening at he thumbs it open. He’s panting on it, as he closes in, mouth open to take in as much of you as possible, tonguing your hole, shallowly, first, then deep, deep.

He gives your clit a firm lick and you jolt. He wraps his lips around it, nursing it in a way that makes it hard to pin down the sensation, to parse out what you’re feeling. It’s all so much, too much.

And your heart is racing in a way you’re familiar with, that scares you.

You push at his head, twisting away. “Slower, slower.”

He complies without pause, moving down from your folds to mouth at your thighs, nibbling, leaving a long string of hickies on both sides. He raises a hand to pet your belly in gentle circles, holding you down, soothing you.

Your heart settles as you trace his temple, his cheek where his jaw is moving beneath the skin. You hitch your legs wider, wanting, and he seems to understand instinctively, gravitating back to your pussy.

The feeling kindles in you again, heart racing, blood rushing in your ears. But you’re ready for it. You understand it now. It feels good. This is good.

He’s messy as he eats you out. You feel something dripping down you, onto the bed. Your slick or his spit, maybe both. It’s surprisingly loud, the sound of him tonguing you and his groans, the combination making your skin heat, making you buck.

Your peak is a full bodied thing, startling, electric. You curl up and around him, grinding against his face, fists in his hair probably painful, but he just moans into you, licking you still, guiding you through it until you’re pulling at him.

You drag him back up your body. He comes easily, readily, stopping to kiss you again wherever you give him slack, dark eyes continually drawn to yours.

His hips are aligned with the cradle of yours before he even thinks to take off his underwear, tossing it negligibly behind him, drawn back to you, as close as possible, as if being apart physically pains him.

He kisses you, and the taste is musky, yours. “Wanna be inside you,” he slurs into your mouth.

Spit pools in your mouth, a bead of it rolling down your chin, leisurely as honey, as you say back, “Want you inside me, too.”

The pressure of him entering you feels immense, like you’re discovering a whole new part of yourself that only opens for him. He goes slow, stroking your belly again, humming to you, a gentle praising sound. When he’s finally bottomed out he pauses, curls over you to bury his face against your chest, against your soulmark.

His cheeks are damp, sticky against your skin. From sweat, tears, you're not sure. You kiss him everywhere you can reach, infirm, fluttering brushes of your lips. Gentle as you can be.

“Gotcha,” you say. “I’ve gotcha.”

Then he’s moving, still nosing at the words on your skin, breathing hard against you with every roll of his hips. He reaches a hand up, meeting your eye as he presses two gloved fingers in your mouth, stroking your tongue for a moment before dropping them to your clit.

You’re still sensitive from earlier, and the touch makes you clench around him, squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until he’s coming undone inside you, warmth spreading through you like dawning light. He doesn’t stop stroking you, his orgasm making his fingers twitch intermittently, against you, makes him wince with the overwhelming pleasure, but still determined to get you off. And you do, rocking up into the cradle of him as he kisses you, as warmth climbs through you again, staticky, bright, and he finally has to pull out as you tighten around him again, so good and soft and sweet it’s become painful.

He doesn’t go far, collapsing beside you, taking you with him.

“Mine,” he says again, holding onto you like nothing could ever hurt you, here in his arms.

“Mine,” he says. Like a promise.

The afterglow blankets you both. A come-down that isn’t really a come-down, more elation than tapering off. You didn’t know you could feel this way with another person, or at all. You didn’t know you’d been craving this kind of all-consuming warmth your whole life. This, too, feels miraculous. Every kiss like you’re inventing it, like it’s the first and last that will ever exist. Anomalous stars, dotting an infinite void.

He traces your features, a single pinky mapping out your eyes, your nose, your warm, swollen lips. And you know him. Maybe you always have.

“I forgive you, you know,” you tell him.

He kisses away your dreamy smile, like he can’t help himself. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” you say, honestly, but knowing, somehow, it needs to be said. Knowing that he needs to hear it, maybe since always. “Everything. Anything.”

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #bnha x reader #BOY HOWDY here she is #4am time to post another fic #this fic is dedicated to strei for letting me out of the isolation jar thank u strei

777 notes · View notes

formidxble · 3 years

Text

▸ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the 2 times bang chan tried to confess and the 1 time he almost did.

▸ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bang chan x female reader

▸ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff and humor || CEO x Secretary AU

▸ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.8k

▸ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @meow-minho @bxngchxn @fairy-of-shampoos @hyunsluvv @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @poutypoutybin @fizzydrink698 @minniehohos @the7thcrow @vanishingboots @qtieskz @arohabangtan @willwriteforhugs @mbbykh @helpsplease @freckledquokka @jisungcherry @crazyoverghosts @changlix-mp4 @asweeetdisposition @lixesque

▸finally !! this took so long, but this takes place before the events of “my house” ! you don’t have to read this in order to understand “my house” and vice versa. i’d also like to say that chan in this fic is 28 years old !!!

▸ before i forget, thank you for 900 followers! crazy how i posted “my house” as a gift for 500 followers, but now we’re here!! ahh, thank you! i hope you enjoy this, dear reader!

masterlist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ my house

bang chan’s sure that he doesn’t believe in the concept of falling in love.

it’s not because of the bitterness that surrounded the concept itself, but he assumes it’s because of the position he’s in. while many think that being a CEO of the company entails many benefits, such as mansions, multiple cars, private jets, and tons and tons of women, he knows it’s actually the complete opposite.

maybe it’s because of his work-mindset that deters him from making meaningful relationships or maybe because he’s detached himself from everyone to guard whatever self-worth he still has. whatever the reason may be, he lays in his king-sized bed, alone, in a mansion that barely felt like home.

bang chan’s sure that he doesn’t believe in the concept of falling in love, but for some reason, as he stares at you from his office window, he’s sure he’s proved himself wrong.

he admits that he may have expected a firework or two or a grand celebration, but as he watches you tuck a hair strand behind your ear, he finally understands why people decide to throw themselves in the name of love with no plan, with no questions of how’s and why’s. the question is, is he ready to grab the opportunity, specifically the one that’s right outside his office?

his eyes follow you as you lean back on your office chair, huffing as you cross your arms in front of your chest before your eyebrows scrunch. chan chuckles softly and it’s got him wondering, for the nth time today, how he never noticed how your skin glowed despite being confined in a busy workplace. he’s never observed how pretty your fingers were when you grab a pen from the holder on your desk. and, maybe he was just blind all this time, but when has your hair looked this healthy and vibrant?

his stare is broken by the arrival of an employee who rests her elbows on your desk. chan watches how your eyes light up and how your lips curl up into a smile. he takes in a deep breath as his heart starts to beat faster. thoughts of work disappear and the image of you makes a home inside his mind. suddenly, his day’s a little bit brighter now, he’s not stressed anymore, and with your smile, he feels as if he can accomplish anything. now, he wants you to be the one to fill his days, afternoons, and nights.

and it’s probably the cheesiest thought that’s ever popped up in his business-centric mind, but that’s how love goes, he can only assume. the worst part is that he’s letting it take over him and he can’t find anything in him that’s saying no, that he shouldn’t push through with it, that it’s probably his loneliness playing tricks on him again. but, for the first time in his life, he’s able to say that yes, he’s ready to grab that opportunity, that chance for love, even if it’s uncertain, even if it hurts him somewhere along the way.

chan laughs.

it’s the mundanity of everything that intrigues him and chan wonders how a woman has managed to capture his heart in this manner. would it be selfish to ask for more when he supposedly has everything he could ever need? nevertheless, he rolls his chair back, a soft blush on his cheeks, before standing up and making his way to your desk.

no plan.

no questions of how’s and why’s.

you immediately stand up from your chair to bow and greet him and the female employee does the same, bowing with a small smile etched on her lips. chan grins and he’d be stupid to ignore the way his hands start sweating when you give him one back.

“come eat lunch with me,” he hums, putting his hands in his pockets. you tilt your head, eyebrows scrunching in response. chan chuckles as his head mimics yours. “unless, you have plans?”

you shake your head in response. chan catches the way you give your colleague a look and in his peripheral, he sees her scrambling away, a soft giggle leaving her lips. both of your eyes lock once more and you grin.

“let me get my stuff, then we can go, sir.”

in chan’s position, it’s always calculated— the probabilities of securing a sale, the percentage of the stock they’ll be able to acquire, and all that business stuff he’d grown accustomed to.

but now, he’s forced to think of all the possible outcomes in a scenario where nothing is certain.

there are many variables that come and interfere with the process of falling in love. feelings and emotions are built up over time and he can’t help but reminisce as the two of you make your way to the cafe. images of him getting angry flash in front of him, partnered with many different instances where the both of you argued in his office. he also remembers the way your eyes turn glossy during said arguments and the way you storm out when it gets too heated.

but, apart from memories like those, chan recalls the soft moments he’s shared with you over the course of the 8 years you’ve been together. the knowing stares, the smiles you share from across the room, the blushes that form on both of your cheeks, and the way the both of your hands absentmindedly reach out for each other when you think no one’s looking.

it’s become a secret language that none of you have consciously created.

and as chan pushes the cafe door open for you, he’s reminded that the line between your work relationship and friendship has been blurred for a long time. the both of you have grown closer to each other ever since you started spending more nights with him in his office. though it’s complicated, he knows that you’re not just his secretary anymore, but you’re someone he can confide in and someone he can trust.

with these, the outcomes that can arise from this conversation with you become hazier than when he started thinking of them.

the phone in his pocket is tempting, but he decides not to call changbin up for this one. he doesn’t know when and how to start, but at the end of the day, there are no rules to falling in love.

before you could fall in line, chan puts a hand on your shoulder. you turn to him as you raise an eyebrow.

“go,” chan tilts his head in the direction of a free table, “i’ll order for us.”

you blink. “but—“

“i insist,” chan chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “we don’t usually go out for lunch, so”—he grabs his wallet, holding it up for you to see—“it’s my treat.”

you step in closer, voice hushed only for him to hear, “you don’t have to, chan.”

formalities dropped, like what he’s used to with you in private, but it feels different now, hearing his name out in public. it rolls off of your tongue so easily and he can’t help but feel like he’s on a date.

“i want to,” he responds after a short while, watching as your cheeks turn bright red. “plus, it’s no big deal. we can always eat lunch together in the future if you’re up for it.” mentally, chan exhales shakily as the words leave his mouth.

you clear your throat as you nod and turn away, walking over to the table with no protests.

chan exhales through his nose as he finds his lips quirking up into a fond smile. his eyes follow you as you take a seat. he forces himself to look away before you could catch him staring, but at the side of his eye, he knows you already knew.

one thought pops up in his mind as he walks over to the table after ordering and paying, how was he supposed to go about this?

it brings him back to the talk about probabilities and being secure in your decision despite the uncertainty that comes with it. there’s a huge probability of him not getting the response he desperately wants to hear. is it enough, the moments you’ve shared, good and bad, for your feelings to grow as much as his did? and did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

he hopes the answer to both questions is affirmative.

chan’s hands start sweating as he grips the chair, pulling it away from the table. he takes a seat, your eyes locking with his as he makes himself comfortable. he had to admit that he has no plan and he has no idea what he’d end up saying, but as he’d come to know just earlier, love is about free falling and trusting the other that they’ll catch you. and one part of him knows, deep down, that your arms are open and ready.

at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

“miss y/l/n,” chan starts, clasping his hands on the table, “i brought you here to—“

your eyebrows shoot up as your mouth opens. “wow,” you chuckle shakily. “so formal. is this serious?”

for chan, it is.

his face heats up as he unclasps his hands, subtly wiping them on his pants. he flashes you a sheepish smile. “i just wanted to talk to you about something.”

you tilt your head, eyes not leaving his. chan’s heart starts beating faster as his lips part, but only a shaky sigh leaves it.

chan prides himself in his public speaking skills. he wouldn’t be called the industry’s Wolf if he didn’t do his job well. he’s spoken to a full stadium, presented in front of the world’s most prominent businessmen, and he’s travelled around the world giving seminars to people who aspire to be like him. but for some reason, he’s in front of a woman and he’s suddenly tongue-tied.

but, it’s not just any woman. it’s the woman he’s in love with. the thought makes him reel. saying it to himself has just proven that he’s madly in love with his secretary, you, y/n y/l/n. the woman who’s been with him ever since the beginning of this god-forsaken journey, the woman who’s seen him at his most vulnerable, the woman who’s stood by him after all these years.

“i—“

“is this about the schedule for this week?” your voice cuts through his thoughts and it scrambles them. chan feels like a teenager at this moment as his shoulders tense up, mind going blank at the melody of your voice.

“no, y/n—“

“i actually wanted to bring it up with you, as well. i’ve noticed that there are some inconsistencies with the schedule at the office and the schedule we prepared,” you grab a folder from your bag, laying it on the table, and opening it. chan blinks and swallows.

his eyes scan the paper in front of him, the surface littered with messy writing with a variety of colours adorning them. it’s hard to read if the both of you settled for this as the official schedule, but somehow, it doesn’t annoy him anymore. instead, his heart aches at the sight of your handwriting, the strokes completely unique to you and the design, if one could call it that, screams your name.

“unless,” you hum, “this isn’t what you wanted to talk about?”

as much as humanly possible, chan wasn’t here to talk about anything work-related. if only you knew the reasons behind his invitation, you wouldn’t be whipping out the damned folder. nevertheless, even as his shoulders fall to his sides, he leans over on the table, trying his best to focus on whatever it is you have brought to his attention.

“it’s fine,” he starts. “tell me about the problems, instead.”

“chan—“

“no,” he dismisses. “it’s nothing important. it can wait.”

this is what he gets for not having a plan in the first place. falling in love is all about falling into the depths of what is essentially the unknown, but it doesn’t mean that he has to dive in head first with no helmet. he groans internally as you flatten the paper on the desk, his confession thrown out of the window that’s beside the two of you.

suppose, it’s not the right time nor is it the right place. if chan was looking for fireworks and a grand celebration for his realization earlier, then maybe he can be the one to give that to the both of you once he actually gathers the courage to tell you how he feels. despite his defeat today, he forces himself to sit in front of you, and listening as you get into the nitty-gritty of the schedule in the office and the schedule you have on-hand.

truthfully, chan’s seen the inconsistencies before you could, but he lets you tell him, the sweet melody of your voice wrapping itself around and in him as he rests his cheek on his palm, eyes not leaving you.

“chan?”

your voice snaps him out of his trance and he raises an eyebrow.

“before i go on,” you giggle, “i’m paying the next time we go out, okay?”

chan cracks a smile, heart bursting at the thought of getting to be with you like this again. he hopes it’ll be a more relaxed setting. no more talk of work. just you and him, like he’d envisioned it to be.

“alright.”

hopefully, he’ll get to tell you next time. he’ll hold onto that.

the fateful next time comes rather quickly, just three days after the first one.

it comes in the form of a successful contract, with the client agreeing to it almost immediately. chan could sit back and say that it’s all his doing, that it’s with his charisma and wit that charmed the client, but truth be told, he couldn’t have done it without you.

first, without you, he wouldn’t have known about the company. sue him for not being interested in smaller companies as business partners, but it’s with your exceptional ability to get him to listen that’s made him understand the appeal. second, without you, the process wouldn’t have been as smooth as it was. papers arrived on time, meetings were set without a hitch, and the relationship with the client was amenable enough that it made transactions easier.

of course, all of the things you’ve done are considered to be the behind the scenes of a successful company, but for chan, you’re front and center. and though the success is connected to his name, it’s always also going to be your success.

as chan offers polite goodbyes to the businessmen who were exiting, his eyes drift to the other end of the room and it lands on you, glowing, with a wide smile that’s taking over your lips. your hair’s a bit disheveled, blouse not neatly tucked in, and the bags under your eyes are now more prominent than the last time he’s seen them, but to him, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the room. it’s multiplied tenfold when he sees you speaking to the client, the two of you laughing because of something you whispered.

chan’s heart aches and he knew it was the right time.

this is why he finds himself leading you up to the company rooftop.

chan’s an incredibly simple man when it comes to life’s pleasures. if he wants something, he’ll ask and he’ll get it, as simple as that. but, this is different. if chan wants to get something—get you, he knows he has to exert effort, even if it was as cheesy as confessing while the sun is setting in the horizon.

he has a plan now, a script to follow, and a solution to every outcome that may arise, but why are his hands still sweating in his pockets and why is he feeling light-headed?

chan pushes the rooftop door open, motioning for you to step outside first. he fights the urge to smile fondly when you narrow your eyes toward him. you step out nevertheless and he hears you gasp when you look out to the city’s skyline. he steps out himself, the door closing softly behind him.

the building is positioned perfectly toward the sunset and the light outlines your features. you’re glowing and it’s brighter than the brightest star responsible for this view right in front of him. chan puts his hands inside of his pockets as he stands next to you, watching the way the air ruffles your clothes and your hair from the corner of his eye. how he wishes he could be the wind softly grazing your skin as you looked out to the horizon.

chan lets out a soft chuckle as he shakes his head.

standing beside you, he understands why people say that love brings out the worst in you. chan’s never been the one to open up. used to guarding himself, he was taught to always be strong and to never show vulnerability, especially in public. he had an image to protect, a family legacy to keep going, and being weak won’t help him at all.

but, maybe, you can help him with that. make his worst into his best. chan sighs shakily.

“you did well,” chan starts as he taps his foot. you turn to him with a grin.

“thank you, sir. i couldn’t have done it without you.”

you cough softly as the words leave your lips. both of your cheeks heat up and chan uses this opportunity to move closer to you, the warm, afternoon air flowing around the both of you. just like the first time, the confession he’s prepared in his head is scrambled and he didn’t know when or where to start.

come to think of it, changbin did mention cue cards. chan smacks himself internally.

“yes, well,” his voice cracks slightly, “i didn’t bring you up here just to praise you.” you raise an eyebrow. “you and i both know of your abilities, so i won’t inflate your ego any further.”

“inflate my non-existent ego?” you joke, earning a giggle from chan.

chan turns to face you, wiping his palms on the side of his pants. you mimic him as you cross your arms in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side. your eyes lock and chan’s mouth grows dry. you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and he wonders why he’s never pieced it together before.

chan takes a step forward before taking your hand into his. he feels you hesitate for a moment, your hand threatening to pull itself away from his touch, but after a while, your fingers relax into his palm, as do your shoulders. your eyes scan his face and chan prepares himself to dive into the depths of love, hopelessly.

“y/n,” he starts. “we’ve been working together for a long time now and—“ chan rubs his thumb on the back of your hand—“i can say that you’re one of the most extraordinary women i’ve ever had the opportunity to be with.” your eyes widen. “and it’s not just about our professional relationship, but it’s also about our relationship outside of it.”

“you’re not just my secretary,” chan pauses to look at you—your eyebrows are scrunched and your mouth is slightly open. “you are my friend, someone i can talk to when i’m alone, someone i can confide to, but y/n…” chan taps his foot gently on the floor as he looks out to the horizon once more, wetting his lips. he hangs his head briefly before letting your eyes meet.

“y/n, i want to be more than that for you. i want to be more than just frie—“

a familiar tune plays in the rooftop and chan recognizes it almost immediately. your ringtone. what amazing timing this has been.

chan blinks as the warmth on his hand disappears. his heart is ringing in his ears, yet he catches your quick apology as you fish your phone out of your pocket. before you could say anything else, chan nods, shoving his hand inside his pocket again. you shoot him an apologetic look before you make your way out of earshot.

chan steps forward to grip the roof railing enough to make his knuckles turn white. he hunches over it as his stomach starts to hurt. he feels as if his blood has been drained from his body and his head becomes light, a stark contrast to the way his chest feels in the moment. he gags softly when the air blows on his face.

he was so close to the edge, both literally and figuratively, but the ringtone had to pull him back to square one. if he thought that his mind was a pain in the ass earlier, it was worse now.

one thing is clear, though. the confession has been eating him up the past few days and if he wanted to feel like himself again, he had to tell you, even if it meant getting rejected and making things awkward around the office.

he could always continue once you come back, right?

but, he learns now that the universe has a funny way of fucking with him. he can’t continue anymore because how could he when you returned to him out of breath, eyes bloodshot, and hands shaky?

“y/n?” chan questions, pitch higher than intended. he puts his hands on your arms to grip them gently as he scans your face. he tries to ignore the panic that’s brewing in his stomach. another thing to add to the list of the things happening in his body.

“did something happen? is there an emergency?”

“my—my sister—“ you stutter, tears flowing down your cheeks. chan prepares himself for the worst.

“y/n, i—“

“she passed her dream university!” you exclaim before bursting out crying again. chan slightly deflates, his shoulders falling to his sides and his chest becoming lighter. he rubs your arms awkwardly before pulling away with a nervous laugh.

“i thought it was—“

“no, chan! you don’t understand how serious this is!” you scream. “we’ve been talking about it ever since she was a kid, now, she’s on her way to college. and not just any college! it’s her dream uni! sure, it’s expensive, but you know, we can make it work! we always do!” you run your hand through your now disheveled hair, a huge smile forming on your lips. “you know that one time i was telling you about my sister taking the exam? this was for that university! the—“

chan sighs internally. if he confessed now, he would be stealing such a monumental moment from you. it wasn’t about him or your relationship anymore, but it’s about your family and your personal life. instead, he lets you ramble as he rests his arm on the railing, watching and listening to you and your stories. chan tilts his head gently, a fond smile on his lips.

next time.

he’ll get to tell you next time.

lucky for chan, the next time comes exactly the next day during the company’s big blowout party for him.

he finds himself waiting for you in the car and the both of you were running behind schedule, but he knows why. you’ve always wanted to take your time dressing up during formal events such as this. of course, he’d always offered a professional stylist to make sure the schedules don’t suffer from your tardiness, but time and time again, you would decline. the memory makes chan scoff in the backseat, letting out a soft huff after.

“late again, sir?” his driver teases.

chan puts his arm on the arm rest as he replies, “as usual.”

when the front door of your house opens, chan’s reminded of the reason why he’s never pushed the professional stylist offer.

you’ve done your hair in a manner chan hasn’t seen before, but it suited you. your make up’s bold, but elegant, and your dress hugs your body perfectly, leaving nothing to the imagination. he gulps. you’ve always upstaged your looks and tonight’s no different. chan knows you’re definitely going to outshine him in the party later, but you deserved to be seen the way he sees you—not just as his secretary, but as a professional who commands respect in the rooms she walks in.

as chan sharply inhales at the sight of you, his driver chuckles quietly.

he knows deep down that he had to say something tonight, but as usual, he’s ready with the cheesy speech—the ‘you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me’, the ‘i want to be yours’, but he’s just not sure when to tell you. would it be a good idea to steal you away in the middle of a company event or would it be better if he waited until the both of you were alone?

another day, another dilemma it seems. however, this particular dilemma has no right answer. no matter what he thinks of, there’s always a negative outcome.

before he could delve deeper, he sees the car door open through his peripheral. “we’re late again.”

you hum nonchalantly as you make yourself comfortable in the backseat. “good evening to you too, sir.”

“are we good to go now or are we still on your schedule, miss y/l/n?”

“there’s nothing wrong with being fashionably late, right mr. bang?”

but, as most things in chan’s world, there is something wrong with being “fashionably late”. you and chan are ushered out of the car as soon as you arrive at the company. the staff are muttering something about the crowd waiting for the two of you—for the grand entrance as the others have labelled before.

despite being part of the industry for a long time, chan could only roll his eyes at the formality of it all. it wouldn’t hurt to let loose, but he lets the staff guide the both of you to where you needed to be.

on the way to the event hall, chan unbuttons his black formal polo. he tells himself that it’s for show, but really it’s to let out the heat that has formed throughout his body as the thought of potentially being able to tell you about his feelings takes over his mind, alongside his thoughts of feeling like a teenager again. nevertheless, he tries his best not to look in your direction as you walked beside him.

once you arrive, the staff tell the both of you to wait as they prepare the hall for the grand entrance. chan thanks them as they disappear from sight, leaving the two of you alone. he shuffles awkwardly as he waits before hearing a soft ‘tsk’ leave your lips. he turns his head toward you, but before he could ask, your hands are on his chest.

chan freezes, but he finds it in himself to choke out your name, mouth drying up as he feels the heat from your fingertips through the fabric of his polo.

“buttons,” you mutter, your fingers finding their way to the buttons he unbuttoned only moments before. “you have to look presentable, chan. there are a lot of eyes in there.”

his eyes travel from your hands to your face. your eyebrows are furrowed as you focused on the task at hand and he almost forgets to breathe the whole time you’re on him. your perfume takes over his senses and for a moment, he thinks he’ll float because of the cheesy happiness that has started to bubble in his chest, but he doesn’t. instead, when you raise your eyes to meet his and he sees that sparkle that he’s grown to love, he’s brought back to reality.

and that’s when he realizes, after years of denying it to himself, that it’s not a feeling anymore. chan’s sure that you make him human. around you, he’s not bang christopher chan, the country’s youngest and most successful CEO, instead, he’s chan, the 28-year-old man who’s hopelessly searching for genuine connection in an industry that offers none of the sort.

chan’s on top, constantly, and the others that have come before you have made sure to keep him there, but you’ve grounded him in reality every time the both of you were together. may it be as simple as you answering back to him or as deep as listening to him rambling about god knows what during quiet nights in the office, you’ve always offered him a time and a place to feel human—be human, even for just a few minutes.

chan mumbles your name once more, but you don’t seem to hear as you lightly pat his now-buttoned chest with a smile on your lips.

“there,” you hum. “keep them buttoned for the rest of the night, okay?”

“i—“

“imagine all the articles when you come in there with your chest in full view,” you giggle as you start stepping back to your previous position beside him.

“y/n—“

you playfully cross your arms in front of your chest as you continue, “you have to thank me someday, you kno—“

“y/n,” he cuts you off. “can you please listen to me?” you stop in your tracks as you turn your head, eyebrows raised.

you blink in his direction, lips parting, “i’m listening, sir.” you tilt your head. “what’s wrong?”

chan moves in closer to you as you turn your body towards him, arms falling to your sides. “on the rooftop…”

“yes?”

“i didn’t get to finish my, um…”

your eyes widen. “yes, of course!” you exclaim. “i remember, yes.”

the two of you stand in silence for a moment as chan tries to collect himself, mind a complete and utter mess like the first time he’s faced with this exact same situation. he looks up at the ceiling as he tries to think of a word, a phrase, a sentence, anything else he can say to free himself of the shackles he voluntary put on himself.

your voice cuts through his thoughts as you ask, “did you want to tell me now?” you look at the door in front of you. “we’re due to enter soon.”

“i’m aware,” chan mumbles as he steps in closer to you once more, “but, this won’t take long.”

you nod, eyes scanning his face as your eyes meet. chan inhales, letting out, “how can i—okay. shit.”

this is already a disaster. where’s his cue cards? “i’ll just—“

“chan?” you question, moving in closer to him as well, concern clouding the sparkle in your eyes.

“you’re amazing,” chan blurts out, albeit a little muddled. nothing like the present, yes?

“i—“

“you amaze me,” chan continues. “and you continue to do so after years of us working together and i sometimes wonder”—he grabs a hold of your hand as his starts to shake—“how you do it.” your lips part and chan notices how your chest has stopped moving.

“you’re so charming and just—“ chan lets go of your hand abruptly as he turns away from you, his hand finding its way to his forehead before hanging his head and groaning to himself. he turns back to you, your whole body frozen in place.

“i guess what i’m trying to say is that i l—“

“mr. bang? ms. y/l/n?” one of staff interrupts. you and chan jump away from each other, both awkwardly looking around the hall as blushes form on your cheeks. chan forces himself to make eye contact with the staff member as he rubs the back of his neck. he gives the woman a half hearted smile as he raises an eyebrow.

“we’re ready for you.”

you and chan’s eyes meet as the sentence echoes throughout the hall. he swears under his breath as his shoulders fall, eyes closing as he releases a huff.

“chan,” you mutter, a hint of worry in your voice. he inhales sharply before shaking his head and putting on his best smile for the lady that’s decided to ruin the moment. he nods before closes his fist as he turns toward the door, his jaw clenched. he feels you tug on his sleeve, but he ignores it, heart thumping in his chest as he offers his arm out for you.

“we have to focus now,” chan replies after a short silence. “it’s…it’s not important.”

you don’t say anything else as the atmosphere in the room turns heavy.

for chan, at least.

as the crew finishes up the final preparations around the both of you, you snake your arm around his and chan tries his best not to dampen the mood any further. he straightens his posture, his lips fall in a straight line, and his jaw relaxes as he exhales. and as much as he would hate to admit it, it’s in defeat. yet again.

before he could wallow in his own despair, you ask, “are we dancing tonight, sir?”

it takes a second for him to respond. “unfortunately not, miss y/l/n.”

“not in the mood to show off tonight?”

chan scoffs softly and he hears you giggle. his chest tightens at the sound, yet he appreciates the effort in making the whole situation less awkward than it is. picking up from where the both of you left off, like he wasn’t just about to pour his heart and soul to you.

“i don’t think we need to,” chan plays along. “this party’s for us.”

“us?” you exclaim with a small smile. chan merely nods.

despite the playful banter, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself. why was it so hard to just…say what he needed to say? he can have a ton of scripts at his disposal, but why is it that when he’s in front of you he’s tongue tied? he felt like an idiot, a love-stricken idiot who couldn’t say it straight no matter how much he plans it out.

one question pops up in his slew of thoughts. “if not tonight, then when?”

he may never know the answer to that question. but, one thing is clear to him.

he started this week with some form of optimism that he’ll end up with an actual connection, but now, he feels as if he’s three steps back from his starting position. he sighs internally as he fixes his posture once more. no rest for the weary because the door to the event hall slowly opens and he squints at the light shining right at the two of you. he feels you squeeze his arm gently and he gives you a reassuring look in response.

chan tunes out his thoughts of his failed confessions and his inner voice saying, “next time.” he puts on another smile for the crowd as the both of you start walking in the event hall, the thunderous applause becoming deafening.

here we go again.

#kim tries to write #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #skz fluff #stray kids #skz #bang chan fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #bang chan fanfic

479 notes · View notes

scott-mccall-the-hot-girl · 3 years

Text

my ultimate guide to thiam fic !!

( as a new teen wolf stan )

the classic post war, long ass (multi chapter) fic !!with great development that genuinely made me laugh out loud, they have the best friendship in this & i love it very much. ( like theo teaches liam to drive and i just *happy sobs* ) a fundamental in thiam fanfiction !! all stans have probably already read it but if you haven’t this is in fact a threat ,, go show this vv iconic story some love !!

Airplanes - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: After the Anuk-ite and the hunters are dealt with Liam needs a break. Cue Theo and a road trip that Liam should know better than to think will be peaceful.

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, 43/43 Chapters, Words: 236,875 (236k)

okay okay so this one is also post 6B !! but ,, now we introduce fighting monroe & the hunters again ,, so we get the boys & a new mission !! so if you like an intresting plot 11/10 would recommend !! just to be clear this ISN’T complete ,, if that turns you off i understand but definitely give this one a read !! it litterally have theo doing crossword puzzles & fighting zombies

Vacancy Signs - LovelyLittleGrim

Summary: Theo and Liam are in Manhattan negotiating a pack allyship when the zombie apocalypse breaks out. Now, the two of them have to find their way back to Beacon Hills without getting eaten by zombies or killing one another.

Rated: Explicit, Graphic Description of Violence, Not Completed, 15/17 Chapters, Words: 89,605 (89k)

Royalty AU !! I REPEAT ROYALTY AU !! a fantastic au where i stan their moms more than i stan them !! genuinely so good at the childhood rivals to lovers trope !! i’m genuinely obsessed with this one. has made me cry more than once ,, hurts in a good way <3 the ending is just *chefs kiss* also one of the tags is genuinely: # theo and liam make bad choices for over 130k straight !! if that doesn’t sound appealing i don’t know what does !!

Artificial Love - songbvrd

Summary: Prince Theo and Prince Liam are forced to spend every Summer together from age five onwards. They hate each other, and usually find ways to make each other miserable as much as possible in their six weeks together. But when they're reunited because of intended unions as adults, things change. They're both supposed to be married to noble women, but neither of them is as interested in anyone else as they are with their childhood rival.

Rated: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, Chapters: 32/32, Words: 172,935 (172k)

so if you are in the mood for a crack fic that’s not explicitally a crack fic this is for you !! okay so i’m really hit or miss with AU’s ,, sometimes i feel like they don’t quite capture the characters right but this story have the BEST dramatic liam i have ever seen in my life !! basically they all live in the same apartment building & it’s fantastic !! i saw this one floating around a lot but the summary didn’t really unrest me until i have it a shot !! so go read it rn !! also nolan & brett are genuinely fantastic and make me wheeze ,, LIKE ACTUALLY VERBALLY LAUGHING !! all i’m gonna say is that my fav characters are scott & the beetles but that won’t make actual sense until you read it !!

The Neighbors Song - TheodoreR

Summary: “I always hear you singing on your balcony every morning, but suddenly you’ve stopped?”

Or the one where Theo annoys Liam every morning with his awful singing until he doesn’t anymore and Liam is even more annoyed. Liam hates every single thing about his mornings -the fact that they happen in the morning alone is enough. The thing Liam hates the most about his mornings though is the terrible voice of the guy who lives below him. He can’t sing for shit and Liam tried to politely let him understand that by throwing flour and water on his balcony, and also by shouting it to him, you can’t sing for shit!, and then by writing it into a note he proceeded to attach to his door, but this Raeken guy just keeps doing it, every single morning, like a fucking rooster. Liam did nothing to deserve this. He probably didn’t do anything to deserve better either to be fair, he doesn’t expect to open his window and be welcomed by some angelic voice singing him good morning, he’d just be happy with nothing. Silence. That’s something Liam can appreciate in mornings. Just some bark from his dog and the sound of his misery and that’s it. But no, god forbid the new guy lets him have that.

Rated: Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Wanrings, Completed, 8/8 Chapters, Words: 42,814 (42k)

me: i’m not a big fan of AU’s ,, proceeds to talk about ANOTHER au… OKAY BUT THIS ONE !! it’s not complete but the author has been updating regularly ,, vv slow burn !! but in a REALLY intresting way !! i lOVE LIAM IN THIS SO MUCH ,, he is such a diaster of a person and it’s wonderful !! they have a great dynamic & i’m sucker for general puppy pack content ( and erica reyes being a badass ) !! also theo plays lacrosse in this & i really like it ahhhhh ,, also liam is just being an artic monkeys stan the whole time & theo is like *que confused repressed gay noises*

Inglorious Roommates - honeyscape

Summary: A roommate is defined as “a person with whom one shares a room.”

Theo would say a roommate was more along the lines of, “The person who's the bane of his existence. The weirdo that sleeps for days. The spaz that exercises at 3am. The guy with a revolving door of annoying friends. An insufferable human being that Theo has no control over living in his room.”

Example: Theo hates his roommate Liam.

okay okay i hate myself but i have another WIP for y’all !! this one is jUST FANTASTIC. i’m genuinely so upset it’s most likely not going to updated again *incoherent screaming ensues*. for this story ,, it’s very theo-centric bUT thats bc it ends right before liam becomes a concrete member of the story !! ANYWAY: basic plot = theo & acquiring not one but two children ,, so #dad theo but he is still crusty & homeless and i love him very much. it’s just so GOOD !! just read if you want to experience my fav theo coming out story & him etching high school musical

Look who's talking - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: Theo had been labeled many things in his life. Evil, failure, monster. He'd never thought Father would be one of those things but as he looked across the table to a six year old with blue smears of bubble gum icecream across her face trying to coax the first words out of her sister. Finger jabbing towards Theo's face as she repeated 'Daddy' again and again he couldn't bring himself to dispute the label.

(Theo accidentally adopts two young werewolves)

Not Rated, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Not Completed, Chapters: 16/?, Words: 48740 ( 48k )

so here me out: post-canon ( poetry like angst ) summer get away !! just the boys doing cute little domestic things together whilst pining !! theo’s guilt in this is just so powerful & aGjffkgkkfkvkdlv !! i think it’s so interesting to see how they interact in this one, it’s just very heart warming !! and it features one of my favorite niche teen wolf tropes of theo being great with like seven year old girls- it’s just so good ,, very much a wonderful little one shot that just makes your heart happy.

(next time i see you you'll show me) a hundred different ways to say the same things - cherrysprite

Summary: “...You deserve good things,” Liam says eventually. He makes sure not to look at Theo even though he can feel his eyes turn on him. Somehow he can already tell that Theo doesn’t believe him.

Liam instantly makes that the goal of this summer - making Theo believe him.

Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 28875 ( 28k )

okay so this next section of fic recs is a bit different !!

two of my favorite authors !! and a compilation of fics i’ve read by them both !!

for context: these two have written some genuinely gorgeous fics, like pure poetry, they explore the real gritty & scary side of our boys relationship in such a wonderful way. they’ve both used some of my favorite tropes & i love them very much !!

whenever i need something soothing but so genuinely intresting & enticing these are my go to !! ( also they both write a lot of good nolan angst & some vv good fics with hayden )

go check out:

eneiryu

as well as fallingforboys

here are some of my favorite fics by them ~

darling i want you here in my arms (kiss the pain away, i know you can) - fallingforboys

even before you touched me, i belonged to you (all you had to do was look at me) - fallingforboys

memories linger like tattoo scars (but your touch on my skin is just as permanent) - fallingforboys

skin, bones, a stolen heart, and an ugly creature lurking underneath -fallingforboys

i don't know how to breathe in the place i called home - fallingforboys

whisper your gossamer truths into the shadow, maybe you'll find the answers you're searching for - fallingforboys

between the mountains and the valley we built a monument to our regret - eneiryu

cracked the hinges of the cage and waited for you - eneiryu

okay and finally: since i am a self centered whore

my own fic: an rendition of the # elevator scene

it’s basically my version of post canon if we did get the kiss in the elevator. we got a classic liam pov in which he is has 12/10 for extreme bi diaster energy even whilst being shot at !! so go him ig…

Fuck Off, Fuck This & Fuck It! - nefelibata_peach

Summary: Liam thought to himself heart rate climbing, they were bound to be dead by morning. So he thought with everything but his brain and he kissed him.

Where Liam Dunbar is very confused, slightly traumatized, and just a bit scared but hey, aren't they all! Bad decisions ensue as two boys fight in a war they never did sign up for.

Rating: Teen and Up, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 3558 ( 3k )

#this took me so long #please go read these or i’ll cry #fan fiction #fan fic recs #teen wolf fic recs #thiam fanfiction #thiam fic recs #thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #theo x liam #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf gay #teen wolf #ao3 #fuck you fuck this & fuck it #thiam fanfic rec #thiam fanfic #thiam is endgame

336 notes · View notes

klixxy · 3 years

Text

Genshin Fic Recs

so... i ventured into the vast world of Google looking for some good GI fic recs... only to find such a pitiful amount that i was promptly devastated. therefore, the solution is to make my own! :D

keep in mind most of these will be ChiLi or XingYun, and yes, i will try not to include smut unless it was one i really really liked. if anyone wants a separate list for just smut (though that will most likely be shorter) i can try to make one later.`

ft. my bookmark comments :)

CHILI

wrapped up in pure gold by beyondwinter

(chili; accidental marriage; chili/childe-centric; 22k words; ongoing)

"Do you understand its meaning, Childe?" He finally asks. There's a hard glint in his eyes, like he's trying to steel himself for his answer.

"Yeah." Loyalty and devotion, right? Between business partners? "I do. It's traditional, isn't it?"

Zhongli's eyes glow a warm amber in the near darkness, reflecting the soft shine of the lanterns. He studies his face with a strange intensity, as though Childe were a piece of high quality Nocticulous Jade being sold for suspiciously small sum and he's trying to find the blemishes that would explain the price. The weight of his gaze should be uncomfortable, boring into him like he can see into the very depths of his abyss-tainted soul, but Childe finds himself preening under the attention instead.

Childe accidentally proposes to Zhongli. Zhongli accepts.

The World is Water by Millereflets

(chili; smut; hurt/comfort; chili-centric; 7k words; oneshot)

Childe doesn't visit Zhongli until it's almost too late.

(my bookmarks: HOW DO YOU MAKE A SMUT SCENE SO POETIC HOLY SHITTTTT)

Set in Stone by seredemia

(chili; fake dating au; angst; some smut?; chili/chiilde-centric; 55k words; ongoing)

What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you're not only dating each other, but that you're also engaged?

In Childe's case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family's stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they'll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever.

Contract accepted. A fool-proof plan set in stone. Right?

Private Ledger of the Eleventh Harbinger by JuHuaTai

(chili; humor; getting together; chili/ekaterina-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

“So guess what I did next?”

Ekaterina contemplated not answering, but Harbinger Tartaglia was just… grinning and waiting. It’s honestly rather creepy the longer time passed.

In the end, she gave a long suffering sigh that seems lost on him, “You bought him the Erhu—“

“I bought him the antique, cor lapis based Erhu,”

When she first left her homeland for the unknown nation of Liyue, Ekaterina was ready to be many things: To be a soldier, to fell Tsaritsa’s enemies in her name, to bring glory to Snezhnaya and her leader.

Being a receptionist in a cozy bank wasn’t so bad in comparison, but she absolutely can do without the front row seat to Harbinger Tartaglia’s (expensive) love life.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

(chili; humor; fluff; chili-centric; 12k words; ongoing)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly." Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-" Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?" Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

CHILIVEN

Crumbling Stone by avtorSola

(chiliven; ANGST; PAIN; mind control; zhongli-centric; 74k words; ongoing)

When Morax unleashes his plan to test the Liyue Qixing and his adepti, he does not take into account the stirring of the Abyss Order in the north and the corruption of Dvalin - for why would he fear an organization that works in such shadows? He is secure in his power, after all, unlike his flighty ex, the absentee archon of Mondstadt who rises only when his people are in danger.

But, somehow, the Abyss Order discovers his plan. Somehow, they capitalize on it. And he, the God of Stone who cannot sicken, is struck down - taken by an order bent on destroying all of humanity as Liyue crumbles around him. For even Archons aren't immune to Durin's blood, and Morax is no exception. But then the question becomes - if even Archons may fall to the agony of this corrupting burn - how is their traveling friend Aether immune?

The answer comes from beyond the stars - an ancient malice that knows no kindness or mercy. A malice whose legacy the Abyss Order now bears, seeking to topple all the Archons and their people into the void of utter destruction. And they have begun in Liyue.

Fortunately, it takes a long time to erode stone.

(my bookmarks: IM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

PLATONIC ZHONGVEN

left-behind city by trixstar

(platonic zhongven; angst; ANGST; venti-centric; 1k words; oneshot)

"An associate of mine has just informed me that Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon has been assassinated."

Venti blinks.

Or: Venti and how he copes with finding out he is all that remains.

i circle ten thousand years long; and i still do not know if i am a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song by birdsofpassage

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 4k words; oneshot)

Venti and Zhongli, and the vignettes of a much-needed vacation around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: ; - ; ; - ; )

oh ye with little faith by air_fried_air

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

Two former archons do a little tour around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: why are all genshin angst fics so melancholy.... i feel so empty)

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

(platonic zhongven; humor; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 21k words; finished)

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

(my bookmarks: venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship-)

XINGYUN

the art of exorcism by Agried

(xingyun; ghost au; hurt/comfort; chongyun-centric; 9k words; oneshot)

On the road back from one of his jobs, Chongyun runs into Xingqiu, the wandering swordsman. And then they keep meeting, over and over again. or, alternately; how a ghost and an exorcist learn how to love, one step at a time.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

(xingyun; humor; romance; chongyun-centric; 24k words; hiatus)

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

[On indefinite hiatus due to burnout; sorry!]

kiss me slowly (so i don't forget) by xiwangmu

(xingyun; humor; romance; light angst; xingqiu-centric; 8k words; oneshot)

Wangshu Inn Bulletin Board

Guest Message: My best friend whom I harbor affections for kissed me last night, but due to his special condition he does not recall a single moment of it. I am quite conflicted about whether to disclose these events to him or not, because that would most certainly require me to confess my feelings as well. If anyone has experience in romancing boys with excessive positive energy, this one humbly asks you to share some advice.

Reply: Our greatest apologies—although we would like to offer some words in response, we simply cannot decipher your handwriting. Perhaps you may return with a neater message next time?

time trials by idlestars

(xingyun/many ships; humor; modern au; xingyun-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

A modern social media AU.

Xingqiu Teases Demons. Chongyun Almost Cries. [The clip shows Xingqiu, lit by the sickly green of night vision, as he stares bored into a dark room. He’s alone - Chongyun left to see if Xingqiu could lure out the ghosts. Xingqiu glances at the camera, smirks, and then opens his mouth.

“Hey demons, it’s me, yah boy.”]

OTHER/GEN

woe be the wallet of the god of wealth by glassdrachma

(gen; humor; identity reveal; keqing/zhongli-centric; 12k words; finished)

Or, the story of how the Yuheng of the Qixing came to idolize, befriend, and discover the identity of the God of Geo, in that order.

(personal comments: hilarious, made me burst out into laughter multiple times, and was just a masterful piece of writing)

to dream of dust by miao_x

(guili/gen; ANGST; hurt/no comfort; zhongli-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

Some nights, Zhongli dreams.

He dreams of soft light, golden song, and a gentle breeze whispering tales of millennia past. It is warm, familiar, and comforting.

It feels like home.

And then he opens his eyes, and awakes to reality.

(my bookmarks: oh zhongli... made me cry)

To drown in your own tears by C_rin_nyan

(guili/gen; ANGST; TEARS; PAIN; zhongli-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

As Rex Lapis, he had never shed a tear, even as he slaughtered hundreds, destruction following his every step. As Zhongli, he had shed much more than he would like to admit, however.

Or, “Zhongli’s soul gave its last scream long ago, yet even now, the echo of said sound was still strong enough to reach Rex Lapis.”

#fic rec #fic recs #fanfic #fanfic recs #genshin #genshin impact #ao3 #chili #tartali #zhongchi #xingyun #childe #zhongli #xingqiu #chongyun #venti #zhongven #guili #guizhong #angst

303 notes · View notes

testingcheats0n · 3 years

Text

Massive Dream SMP Fic Rec!!

Hey- Hi, I just feel like there are a ton of fanfiction that's really underrated in this fandom- so I'm going to dump it on your dash!!! Most of it is going to be Tommy-centric or SBI-centric, but they are very good!

Source: Me

Finished Fanfics:

Multi-chaptered Fanfics:

that's, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade

Hard-hitting, but has a happy ending, though I recommend reading the prequel (in the same series) first, otherwise, it's lowkey depressing.

MORE RECOMMENDATIONS BELOW THE CUT!!

you’ll rise above (crowned by an overture bold and beyond) by azvremoon

Tommy is not sixteen. He has faced too many open wounds, dripping ichor onto blood-stained warzones, to be just a child. He is Blood and War and needless Death, an all-in-one special of everything that can ruin reality.

(Tommy is the blood god. No one should know, but this server can't stop pushing him over the edge.)

+2 more Works that were Inspired by this one

Tommy is a BAMF and Dream, Technblade, and Phil get fucked it is what it is.

Responsible Forever by SilverWing15

“You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” /////

“So,” Techoblade says, slow and deliberate, his face shows clearly just how unbelievable he finds all of this, “you saw a boy last night, in the middle of the night, living with raccoons and eating our garbage?”

“I know how insane it sounds,” Phil says, “but I know what I saw. We need to help him, who knows how long he’s been out here?”

“Okay,” Wilbur interrupts, “let’s say that raccoon-boy is real. What is it you want us to do? We can’t go searching the woods for specific bunch of raccoons, I don’t know if you’ve noticed Phil but there are a lot of them out there.”

“Going out and hunting him isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Techno says, “we have to let the raccoon-boy come to us. He’s already come once, you know how tenacious raccoons are. If they came to the garbage pit once, they’ll come again. We just have to set a trap.”

“Those raccoons aren’t gonna know what fucking hit them,” Wilbur mutters.

Or: RaccoonInnit taken well beyond its logical conclusion

Tommyinnit is a Raccoon boi that lives with other Raccoons

Protecting the Traumatised Youth by spookyserpent

Sam blinks. “What?”

Even behind the mask, Sam has the distinct impression that Dream is grinning at him. “A week and he was begging for my attention, even after I stole and burnt his armour, even after the beatings. He couldn’t stand me leaving him because I was the only one to show up, to pay him attention. It was hilarious.”

Sam is going to be sick.

Or, Sam decides to ask Dream about his intentions and ends up becoming a big brother to Tommy and Tubbo. All the while, Dream and George fight, Niki and Jack plan child murder and Ranboo is slowly getting adopted into the SBI.

Awesamdad written back when it was possible... ahhh

Chaos In a Bottle by Lovetribable

After a realization, Tommy leaves the pillar, but instead of going to Techno. He just disappears, leaving everyone to think he's gone.

It takes a war to bring him back.

+2 Sequels and an Alternative Ending

Dadinnit!! + A Sympathetic Dream

Absolutely Anything For Them by Numanum

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, Tubbo,” Dream sighs, meeting his eyes cooly. Tubbo, back against a tree, shudders at his tone, at the look on his face.

The sword at his neck skims across his skin as Dream shifts his grip on it, and he flinches back into the rough bark behind him. Dream smiles at his reaction, seeming pleased- like the cat that’s been toying with a mouse that always tries to run no matter how many times it’s caught. And, despite this being his first encounter alone with the man, he thinks that the comparison is fairly accurate; Tubbo has never felt smaller than he does now. There’s supposed to be a buddy system to prevent things like this- he shouldn’t be alone here, stuck in this situation.

Or: Tubbo becomes a traitor to save everyone and has to struggle with his choices

Traitor Tubbo, but it has the happiest ending possible since it follows the rest of the story.

Where Did You Come From, Kit? by KadeAK (zacixn)

Hybrids are an ancient species of humans crossed with animals, blessed with the favour of nature. They used to live in peace on the SMP’s land, but ever since the dawn of humanity’s modern culture, they have become ostracised and hunted by their once-brethren. Now, the once-thriving subspecies of hybrids have been reduced to ashes, the majority of their peoples struggling to survive in a city capital that can't stand their presence.

To the members of L’Manburg, General Wilbur Soot is just another mildly prejudiced human being, stuck with a hybrid fox kit for an adopted child. However, that assumption could not be farther from the truth. As it turns out, there's a reason why he is the man he is today.

This fic is entirely pre-L’Manburg.

Part of a series, very good.

Take It Easy by sweet_magnolias

Five times Techno scared Michael, one time Michael scared him, and the resolution of those fears.

AKA - Techno learns how to be an uncle.

Technoblade's POV, so expect some Tubbo bashing on the margins of all that Michael fluff.

I suppose it’s never my time to die, is it? by Birb_Whale

The first time it happens, he barely remembers. The second time is when he realized. The third... Twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern

“It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy”

Messed up, but not unrealistic. Purely for the Hurt/Comfort lovers.

This Wasn't Planned, But It'll Work Out by Anonymous

Dream isn't sure what to think when he finds a kid on his doorstep, but he can't just leave him there, now can he?

(He doesn't know what he's getting into, or what he's gotten the kid into, either)

Long, and angsty, with a bittersweet ending Imo.

let's play a game by Aria_Cinabun

Tommy was once a slave. That's gone now - shoved in his past with the memories of blood and gore and death. He wants to forget who he was; what he has to do to survive. Of course, the Elementalists will always come back to haunt him. They aren't the ones who killed his mother, but they're close enough. And now he and his brother have been dragged into the mess, as Elementalists with their own, separate covens, to find the Pit - the place where he'd lived and killed and hurt for the first twelve years of his life. His coven can't know. Can't know who he really is, what he can really do. Can't know anything about his past. He doesn't want a coven full of Elementalists who don't trust him; one of whom he's pretty sure despises him. He doesn't want that life. He wants the life of a pickpocket, on the streets, because nobody questions street kids, and nobody comes asking about his past and pushes him to tell his secrets that he holds closest inside. Tubbo tries to tell him to trust people. But trust is how you die.

Good fantasy AU, has SBI, and is thus fluffy.

Turn of the Tide by SilverWing15

Tommy’s fins twitch at the mention of Dream’s ancestors. Dream talks about them a lot, how they made their fortune hunting down mer pods, how they were cruel and greedy. Nothing like Dream is. They’ve both overcome their roots he says.

Tommy is nothing like the wild mer out in the ocean, who spend their lives scraping by just to survive, who kicked him out of the pod when he was a baby because he was too small. He’s also better than the pit mer, who can’t overcome their wild instincts and know nothing but fighting.

He’s different from them, he’s better than them. He’s Dream’s. //// OR: Change is like the tide, when it comes, you can only sink or swim. You would think that a mer would be better at keeping afloat.

Mermaid AU Pooog. Part of a series.

One-Shots:

Snapped by AmberRunnel

“You don’t know what I went through in that prison cell.”

Jack burst out laughing, blinded with rage and the overwhelming urge to hurt Tommy, to give him everything he deserved. “Oh, is the poor child traumatized? You want pity now?” He twisted his blade, and Tommy’s axe was sent clattering to the ground.

“If the prison was so awful, why don’t I send you back there?”

-|-

Jack doesn't handle Tommy's revival well. There's a simple solution, though. Kill Tommy, and Dream revives him right back into that cell. Problem solved, kid dealt with.

It takes a few confrontations for Jack to realize he's an asshole.

It's fucked up, but god does it hurt in a good way.

the sky is coming down blue by salinesolution

An imagining of New Milo's perspective throughout the Skyblock Randomizer adventure. What did he think of the world he found himself in, and how did Wilbur's feelings and actions change things for him? Here's my way of answering those questions.

He made the fish think, funniest shit I've seen.

You told me to be a hero (so let me die like one) by spiromachia

"You told me to die like a hero," the blond interrupted, spinning on his heel to face the others, holding his arms wide open, "So why not fulfil the ending that was always meant to be."

Across the battle field, through the chaos and destruction, a tree burned.

Even the sound of explosions and cries and bloodshed felt distant enough for the world to become silent for a few moments, each individual slowly coming to the same conclusion, each of their bodies tensing.

Tommy's face broke out into a grin as he lowered his head, glowering at the people around him, and Philza's face flashed with recognition.

"Kill me."

Or... In the middle of Doomsday, Tommy decides to ask Technoblade to be the Lycomedes to his Theseus.

Heavy and dark, but at least Dream gets it.

tomorrow night by meridies

Tommy is desperately searching for his missing brother. Techno is the reluctant psychic who unfortunately got dragged along.

or, two people, more alike than different, learn what it is to have a family at their side.

It's cute what can I say :]

maple syrup by itisjosh

"We could run," Tubbo stares at the sun. "We've got everything we've ever wanted right here. We could run."

"Yeah," Tommy agrees, feeling his head swim. "We could."

(or, tommy and tubbo run away together)

Children get away from toxic adults :)

Why’d it have to be so sunny? (The sun shouldn’t shine without you.) by AToZRainToBe

‘A realisation hits Phil in the face like a truck. “Wi- Ghostbur,” Phil says, turning to his grey-scale, translucent, actually-dead son. “You definitely told Tubbo that Tommy’s alive, right?”’

To get away from Dream, Tommy agrees to fake his death, going with the cover story that he jumped from the pillar in Logstedshire. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell Tubbo.

Misunderstandings are one of my favorite tropes.

sugar and ice by princedemeter for Aenqa

“He is my son,” Philza says. “Mortal or not, I would see him grow strong.”

Technoblade looks down on earth, at the tiny, angry bundle of cloth and pinking, wrinkled skin. This mortal child, he thinks, lungs filled with breath from the king of gods himself, will not grow strong.

It's mostly centered around Technoblade and Wilbur with Phil being a shitty dad. Pog Gods AU.

a matter of time by meridies

Tommy is twelve years old when his wings first appear, and he is twelve years old when Phil tells him, "All it takes is time and patience, Tommy, and soon you'll be flying even better than me."

or, Tommy grows up feeling like a failure, and it takes him a while to figure out where he's happiest.

Tommy is just finding his place in the world. Powers AU.

That Time a Baby Decided to Raise a Baby by Scitrust

Tubbo wasn't good at making excuses, so when Schlatt asked him why he was leaving in the night, he made something up on the spot. That had been months ago.

At least he sort of had an alibi for that, now.

Or, in which Tubbo finds a baby in the woods on his way to see Tommy, and promptly adopts it.

Part of a collection!! Read it all.

spider lily by blue000jay

Wilbur has a body.

The freckle on the base of his left pinky finger (shared with Techno). The scar on his chin from when he was twelve and over ambitious, diving into too-shallow water. The scar on his throat from the final control room, and the puckered skin on his shoulder from the poisoned arrow that killed him next. Various other nicks and things that litter his skin from years of rebellion and living wild, a kid thrown into a vicious world with too little self-preservation.

(Resurrection AU, for when/if Wilbur comes back.)

The author knows how it's like to live with chronic pain, and it shows :(

Hands tied loose by rabiddog

"Let's run away, Tubbo." Tommy breathed; a wide grin split across his face as his hope grew. "Let's get out of here – far away. We can go anywhere, can't we? Let's just go, you and me right here, right now."

Tommy needs to leave. He has to get out of L'Manburg, he has to leave the Dream SMP for his own sanity, and he wants Tubbo to come with him.

But Tubbo has a family now, a better life - something that he can't give up... not even for his best friend.

Unhappy ending :(

The serpent underneath by rabiddog

Tommy and Techno sit at the memory-filled bench and talk. Technoblade reminisces, he talks, he admits his pent-up feelings, he cries. And Tommy? Tommy listens. (That's all he can do.)

“I’m sorry for everything, you know? For all of it. I’m so sorry about... about the first war, about the withers and the fighting, about...” Technoblade's fingers began to curl around Tommy’s blonde locks. “About Wilbur and everything after. I'm so, so sorry.”

:((((((((

Damning choices by rabiddog

Ranboo would have never expected to find himself in a horrifying situation such as that one - quite literally sandwiched between a rock and a hard place, with three lives dangling over his head and the answer on the tip of his tongue.

Tubbo, Michael, Tommy.

It's his choice. He chooses who lives, and who dies. His new family, or his first friend. But Ranboo... Ranboo already knows.

"Ranboo," He hissed out, voice cracking and somewhat staticky, "It's not your fault. It's not. You had no other choice; I know that, okay? I- I know that- I know- I know..."

:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Jealousy is a disease by rabiddog

Tommyinnit isn't new to the idea of jealousy. He understands it completely. He understands the way it runs rampage through his body each time he catches even a glimpse of Tubbo and Ranboo's new relationship, he understands that the emotion makes his heart clench uncomfortably from time to time. He sees it, feels it, and yet he doesn't care.

He doesn't care at all.

"You took Tubbo away from me. You took him away. You took my best friend, and now he's- now he's not my best friend anymore, and I-!"

Word of Honour by rabiddog

Tommy could only stand and stare as Technoblade agreed to hand him over to Dream - as his brother traded him off like he was nothing. Like Tommy wasn't important.

Technoblade was a man of honour. He was a man of pride and sticking to his word. He knew that he owed Dream a favour, and no matter what that favour might be, he'd be compliant with it. Nothing would change his mind. (Not even Tommy.)

Almost canon. F.

Sweet Repentance by rabiddog

Perhaps Tommy should have told Phil about his arguably life-threatening injury the minute his father had opened the door. But of course, Tommy being Tommy, did not.

Dying seemed like a nice enough option as long as he was with his family.

Tommy just wanted acceptance, forgiveness, and peace. He wanted to close his eyes for the last time and finally be able to let go.

Tommy dies painfully.

A White Tulip by astervoid

He picked the white tulip from the bottom of the stem, standing up carefully as he held it pinched between his fingers. It would die now, inevitably, but Tommy relented and held the flower to his chest. What a silly, stupid thing to ground him. He almost hated that it made his breaths come easier and his steps feel lighter. Almost.

Tommy & Ranbooo chill on the bench.

lying to the authorities (again) by touchgrass

"Please tell me that my right-hand-man, my soon-to-be vice president, one of the people I trust the most on this godforsaken server, did not lie straight to my face and tell me he was twenty-fucking-years-old.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but then closes it shut at the furious look on Wilbur's face. Oops.

It is the day of the elections and Wilbur Soot could not have chosen a worser time to realize that half his staff is underage.

The ONLY fic with this premise I've seen on Ao3.

Dear Theseus by rabiddog

Tommy had thought that they'd won - thought that they'd finally beaten Dream, and that everything would be okay. As it turns out, however, apparently Dream had called in that favour from Technoblade after all.

“Please,” Tommy whispered after a beat, quivering hands edged upwards to hesitantly press against the tip of the sword striking through his chest. Why, why, why? Why him? Why now?

Tommy almost wins.

A Shifting World by AplusIsRoman

How was Wilbur supposed to know it would end like this?

The smoke hung in the air and soot clung to his skin. His brother - adopted, but older by two minutes - stood back-to-back with him. The chilling cries of people and the calls of the withers rang through the air above the chasm that was once his home.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

How could he have known this would happen?

Sequel to A Child's World

Age-swap AU. Has a prequel.

heart of the sea by RyDyKG

Here is the secret that he barely thinks about, a secret that he shoves deep and far down in himself:

Wilbur Soot is a siren, and he’s not exactly proud of that fact.

Wilbur-centric. Urban Fantasy AU.

He knows, ok? by Ralli

By some means, Techno has given his raccoon younger brother some cotton candy. It doesn’t end as well as either of them would like.

Very, very cute :)

that's it, it's split (it won't recover) by Jk_Kat

Tommy has always been the fighter.

He has never been the fought for, and he knows it, with every whisper Tubbo directs at Ranboo, with every glance thrown his way- Tommy knows, the way he wishes he didn't, that they think he's dead.

If they're so convinced he's still dead, maybe the one good thing left he can do for them is die.

---

Or, Tommy gets addicted to being dead and thinks that nobody cares about him. The people who very much do try to pull him back from the brink before Dream can't resurrect him anymore.

Messed up, but with a happy ending.

Hugs 'n PTSD by rabiddog

Ranboo knew from the start that the recovery process would be hard - that moving on from quite literally being beat to death would be something hugely difficult to step away from, and that's if Tommy could even manage it at all.

He knew that it would be stressful and arduous, demanding and tough... he just hadn't expected to be holding Tommy through a PTSD-induced panic attack only days after his release from Pandora's Vault.

Ranboo isn't typically an overbearingly protective person. But for Tommy? He just might be.

I love this author if you can't tell.

Big Men don't cry by Shiny22Snivy

The room is small and warm, almost stifling compared to the cool openness of the ravine. It’s cosy and candlelit, and a chest sits open in the corner, full of what looks to be burnt rags of a former smart suit. And sitting in rumpled blankets on a bed, cradling a mug of something steaming, sits Tubbo.

At first, Tommy forgets all about Niki’s vague warning. He’s just so happy to see his best friend again, alive and well and all in one piece. Tubbo’s okay. Tubbo’s okay, and in front of him, and suddenly everything bad in the world is gone, if only for just a moment.

“Tommy?”

And then Tubbo turns to look at him.

Clingyduo fluff.

sins of the father (i broke all my bones that day i found you) by ryter

The thing that hurt Wilbur most was when he saw Fundy tear down the walls of L'Manburg. After all, those walls had gone up to protect his son. But in this world, Fundy trusts his father just a little bit more, and it ruins him.

Or: there's only one way Wilbur never becomes the villain. It's unclear whether this was the better path.

SOME VIOLENCE WARNINGS/BLOOD MENTION. CHARACTER DEATH. SO MUCH ANGST.

Sad, but cathartic.

REVIVED TOMMY HEADCANNONS AHAHAHAHA by racooninnit

i’m dropping ALL the fucking revived tommy headcannons on you guys today get ready for some ANGST

this is different from what i usually post but it was fun

i don’t think there’s a lot i need to put warnings for, obviously there are mentions of the way tommy died and the aftermath of that (i.e. injuries and trauma), but if there’s anything that needs a warning please tell me!

What it says on the tin- not really a fic.

Unfinished Stories:

Ongoing (Less than a month since the last update):

Over the River Styx by CorpseArt

I feel like we should name him.

There’s a scuffle at the back of his mind as he rolls up, curling tight with a shiver despite the heat of the flames licking up his back.

I mean, he’s like – us, but like a worse version clearly because oh man, this is just weirdness. There’s a flare of a tangle of emotions, complicated and fearful, resentful and livid with anger. I can’t believe this is what I’ve been reduced to, stuck in the mind of this- this child.

He’s like your age, Tommy. Are you calling yourself a child?

I mean, I am one so fucking duh. Child murderer.

Or: trauma bonding in the most unconventional of senses.

Just- Read it. Show the writer your support, it's unique, it's amazing and there needs to be more of it.

If history is dead and gone by iregretallmydecisions

“Don’t come any fucking closer,” Tommy shouted, startling Phil into stepping back. Tommy was still looking around wildly, like a trapped animal “Don’t fucking do it.” ---- In which Tommy finds himself faced with his splintered family, while it was still mostly whole. The past is not an easy place to be when the future was not kind. His family is forced to deal with the fall out.

It's better than Rewind, but you didn't hear that from me.

Wilbur Soot's Redemption (OR Ghostbur's Retry) by luckykitty0523

Wilbur had many regrets in his life, being lost in his madness and the urge for revenge drowned leaving a shell of who he once was. It was only in his dying moments that he regained himself but it was already too late for him leaving him drowning in wishes and regrets. However waking up in another different universe where wilbur was never born and family soulmates exist, so when wilbur said he wanted to fix the mistakes he never expected this turn of events.

In one world wilbur dies and he would return as a ghost missing his memory and trying to fix what he did in life but in this one wilbur dies and wakes up in another world where soulmates exist and the wilbur of that world was never born so wilbur/ghostbur takes his place and tries to make up his mistakes to the other version of his friends.

Wilbur adopts SBI + Fundy + Dream.

A Talk Long Overdue by penink

Tommy has his first therapy session with Puffy.

Tommy gets therapy.

Into the Night by Interjection

“Don’t touch me,” Tommy hisses, leaning against the railing. “I will - I will-”

They’re a hundred stories up. Wind lashes against Phil’s face. Next to him, Sam makes choked noise.

“But why?”

Tommy looks up to meet Phil’s eyes, terror struck so deep in those pale blue irises Phil thinks they must hold all the world’s fears within them.

“You’ll die,” he whispers. “And then I’ll die. But I’ll come back.”

“And I don’t want to come back.”

Others have the freedom to live. Tommy doesn’t even have the freedom to die.

But maybe they can teach him that living doesn’t have to be so bad.

---

(Superpowers AU where whenever someone touches Tommy, they both die. But Tommy will always come back to life eventually. He just wants it to end - but instead, he’s on the run, terrified of how his power will be exploited if he’s caught.

A few people reluctantly team up to save him.)

Funky SBI dynamics + a Sam that cares. Also a lot of angst.

#dream smp #dream smp fic rec #fic rec #sbi #wilbur soot #tommyinnit

316 notes · View notes