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peachesofteal · 10 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

You're early.

Your little knock on the door sends him into a spiral of panic, brain splitting in half, trying to figure out if he can hide his mortifying failure from you and still save dinner.

You knock again.

"Hey, sorry, I know we're early but-" You peel off with a sniff, nose wrinkling slightly, lips tucking together. You're wearing a lip stick, or a lip gloss, or something? And your hair is done. "Is something burning?"

"No!" He blurts. "No, uh. I'm just... cooking. Come in, come in."

He did actually, burn dinner. He burnt it so bad he had to order delivery, Thai on the fly, much to your excitement, and he files the knowledge of one of your favorite foods away for the future. The two of you eat together, little bits and pieces being given to Emmaline from your finger, and by the time you're finished, he's nearly worked up the nerve to start talking.

"So..." your voice trails, awkwardly, and you glance at him before looking away, finding a spot on the wall to study. Here goes nothing.

"I ah, wanted to explain, my behavior... from the other night." He starts, rubbing the nape of his neck. You watch him expectantly, Emmaline on your lap, and when he falters, you give him an encouraging nod.

"I'm listening."

"How I reacted, how I spoke to you was... unfair. It was cruel and I never want to make you upset, like that." You nod. "What I do- my job- it's... it can be dangerous. Stressful. Our last mission was difficult and I... operate in a different headspace at work. It's what keeps me alive. Makes me good at what I do." Skip the killing part, LT, Soap's voice reminds him, and he pushes on. "I was still decompressing, when you came to the door and I didn't want you to see me... like that."

"With your war paint." You quip, and he pauses, head cocked. "You had black stuff, around your eyes?"

"Yes, with my war paint. I didn't want you to..." He loses it for a second, flailing in the wind, mind scrambling as he tries to put the words together. Just say it. Tell the truth. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I don't think I could stand it. It's no excuse but, I guess, I thought you deserved an explanation."

"You're right." You say slowly. "It's not an excuse." You sigh, twirling a fork through the last of your noodles. "I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I just... it's hard you know. To put yourself out there, when you're a single mom. And a widow. I thought, maybe... you didn't-"

"I do." He cuts you off. "I... you and Emmaline, you're the best things that have happened in a long time. I-"

"Oh my god!" you gasp, and he instinctually startles, muscles going stiff as he surveys the flat.

"What?"

"It's snowing! Sorry, just uh..." You're already standing, hand half reaching towards him, excited smile on your face. "Emmaline's never seen snow before, can we... this is her first winter." You explain, and then move towards the balcony, fidgeting with his door lock, huffing in frustration when you can't figure it out.

"I got it." He says, not mentioning that it's custom, and slides it free, pushing the door wide so you can go outside. You're vibrating with joy, smile wide and big, and even Emmaline feels it, watching her mum, little face lit up the same as yours.

"Look, baby. Look!" You point, and then cup your palm, letting fat white flakes fall into your hand, tilting to show Emma, and she cackles with excitement, pudgy hand slapping against yours, bringing the melting snow to her mouth. You laugh with her, staring back up at the sky before glancing over to where he stands in the doorway, enraptured. The snow is caught in your hair, on your nose, in your eyelashes, the same as the baby, both of you glowing on his fucking balcony like angels on earth, sent to him from someone up there who might love him.

"Thanks, mum." he whispers to himself, to her, ducking inside to grab the blanket from the couch so he can wrap the two of you up in it to keep you at least a little warm and protected from the elements. "I wish you could have met them."

When he reappears, you're still catching flakes, this time with your tongue, hardly paying attention until he's settling the blanket on your shoulders and stepping back to watch, content to try to memorize every single second.

"Come here." You call, extending a hand, wiggling your fingers. "Try to catch one on your tongue." But he can't move.... he's too stunned, standing there before you, staring, and it gives you pause. "Simon." You whisper, head tipped back. The balcony lamp reflects in your eyes, snowflakes and yellow shine glowing back at him, the entire world lit up inside them, and his hand finds your cheek, cupping it with his bare palm, thumb stroking across the velvet that is your skin.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry." His voice sounds thick, fractured, and you smile, leaning into him, Emmaline's warm weight between your bodies.

"I know... I... I understand now." You look away, for a second, taking a deep breath before blinking rapidly, tears just barely there on your waterline. "I can't... losing Emma's dad, before she was even born I- I can't... I don't want to go through anything like that again, Simon. I'm scared." It's a confession, horrifying and real, terrified and heartbreaking. All he can do is tell you the truth. Tell you what he feels. What he knows.

"You don't have to be scared." He murmurs, low and soft, other hand coming to gently support Emmaline's back. "Not with me. I promise you." What is he doing, what is he doing, what is he- what is he promising? To live forever? To never hurt you? To never let either of you be hurt? To claw his way back to you, even in death?

He looks down at you, at Emma, and the world freezes. He sees everything so clearly, the image of his future, of yours- a little house with a yard, another baby. Emmaline a big sister, so proud and excited. All of you tucked away somewhere secret and safe.

He takes a deep breath, exhale crystalizing in the air, water vapor falling like a halo around you, and his confession comes unbidden, so easily given to you. "I want to kiss you."

"Okay." You answer, and then he moves, closing the gap, slowly pressing his lips to the warmth of yours, blood pooling beneath his skin, heat flowing between your bodies. You taste like heaven, mouth sweet and easy for him, parting with a tiny gasp, and it overpowers him to the point where he thinks his knees might give out. He can't help but hold your closer, arm tightening around your back, finger stroking down the length of your spine-

Emma cries. It's not really a cry, more like a little shout, and you pull away abruptly, giggly expression on your face.

"What's wrong baby girl." He hums, patting her back, tucking the blanket tighter around your arm and her body.

"I think she's upset she's going to have to share you. You're her favorite nowadays, you know." You tease, and his grin is so heavy on his face, but so light at the same time, something completely foreign and wild, the breadth of happiness something he hasn't felt in so many years. "And she's probably cold."

"Should we go inside?" He motions, somewhat relieved to get both of you out of the cold, and when you nod, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"We should."

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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loserboysandlithium · 2 months

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Let’s Play Pretend: ex boyfriend Eddie one shot

Minors dni, angst, I haven’t done any angst in a while so I’m sorry if this is shit 😂 I needed a good practice run and hopefully someone will enjoy it 🖤🖤🖤

*******

Okay, I can do this. Just breathe.

Thanksgiving. Your mom expected Eddie to be there. He’s been there by your side for the past three years. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her about the breakup. It was too hard. You still couldn’t truly wrap your head around it. How did we end up here?

Eddie pulls uncomfortably at the collar of his sweater, borrowed from the one and only Steve Harrington, as you both stand at the door of your mom’s house.

“You didn’t have to wear that.. she knows you Eddie.” you speak for the first time since he picked you up.

“Just wanted to look nice, ya know? Not like the asshole who broke your heart…” Eddie’s voice trails off as his gaze falls to his feet. His big black combat boots a stark contrast to his cream colored sweater. How does he manage to pull even this off?

“We said we weren’t gonna talk about it, Eddie. You promis-”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I’m sorry. I just- this is weird okay?” he mumbles.

He’d agreed, semi reluctantly, to play pretend for one night. Put on a happy face for your mom. Just one night. One dinner. Surely you could make it through, right?

You hear footsteps behind the door and take a deep breath as you reach over, sliding your hand into Eddie’s. The simple gesture making your heart ache. His calloused fingers, the chill of his rings, so familiar to you once. You hear the top lock click just as Eddie’s brown eyes meet yours.

He gives you a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ready, pumpkin?” he whispers, his old nickname for you suddenly sending you into a spiral. Fuck, pull it together. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

The door swings open, revealing your mother and you smile big, probably too big in an attempt to hide your true emotions. Your mind is swirling, flashbacks of you and Eddie filling your thoughts as you try to push them away.

“Are y’all ready to eat?” Your mother’s sweet southern accent easing your racing thoughts just a bit. You nod, releasing Eddie’s hand to embrace your mother.

“I know my boy is ready, and I made your favorite.” your mom smiles warmly as she takes Eddie in her arms next. You watch as he hugs her, squeezing tight. He’s always loved your mom. Always felt right at home. Soaking up the attention she gave him every time he was over.

“Thanks, Ma.” he answers softly, clinging just a little tighter than usual before pulling away. His eyes look glossy. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He swallows hard, glancing your way once more before he excuses himself to the bathroom, the tear falling down his cheek only spotted by you.

Your mom ushers you into the kitchen as you begin to grab the dishes, carrying them to the large wooden table in the dining room. She’s rambling as usual, “I’ve missed you, baby.” “How are things?” “Eddie looks handsome as ever.” “Is that Steven’s sweater?” “Anything new?” Her last question hits hard as she wiggles her ring finger playfully.

You give her a small smile and a fake giggle as you shake your head no. “Mom, stop.” you groan.

“It’s gonna happen, baby. I just know it.” she reassures, leaning down to kiss your cheek. There was a time where that was all you wanted. You thought about it constantly. What ring would he get? How would he propose? The fantasies had run rampant in your mind. He was the one. He was supposed to be the one.

“Everything looks incredible.” Eddie’s voice appears suddenly from behind you shaking you from your thoughts. Then you feel his touch. His hand resting on your lower back as he pulls you into him slightly.

It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend.

He’s so close. You can smell his cheap cologne mixed with cigarettes and weed. Your favorite combo. You allow yourself to lean in a little closer, your eyes shutting softly as you brush against his chest.

His heart is fucking pounding.

The oven beeps and your mom claps her hands excitedly as she announces that the turkey is done. She disappears into the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“You doing okay?” he whispers, gently titling your head to look up at him.

No.

“M’ fine.” you reply instead. You can’t look away. His eyes drawing you in as always. His pretty lips. His brow furrowed slightly. He’s so fucking close.

“I’m not, if it makes you feel any better.” he says bluntly, his eyes still on yours.

“Eddie..”

“Okay kiddos. Time to eat.” your mom sings, placing the small turkey on the table as you all take your seats.

****

You spend the night playing along. Eddie making his usual jokes, your mom smiling and laughing, talking about memories of the past few years. Eddie’s hand rests on your thigh under the table, making your body tingle.

“God, I remember that.” Eddie chuckles, his genuine laugh something you haven’t heard in so long. Now when you talk, it’s always a fight. Screaming and crying. Or just another hate fuck. But it was never just that. And you both knew it.

You look over at his pretty smile, his eyes look light, his body relaxed. Everything felt almost normal again. But it isn’t real. None of it is real anymore.

After dinner, you hug your mom goodbye. Eddie kissing her cheek softly as he promises to see her soon.

Then you’re in his van. The light atmosphere fading back into your bleak reality as he drives you home. He tries to make small talk. Even tries to keep the earlier conversations going. Memories of your good times. They were the best times. But you have to stay strong.

He pulls into your drive, shutting of the van, landing you in a uncomfortable silence. “I should go.” you say quickly before he takes you off guard, leaning down to kiss you. You shove him off, doing your best to control your emotions.

“I just thought maybe we could..”

“I can’t, Eddie. Not tonight. I’m sorry.” you mumble, grabbing your bag from the floorboard of his van.

“Yeah.. yeah okay. Only when you want some dick, right?” he grumbles, his response making all of your feelings from the night explode out of you.

“Did tonight mean nothing to you? Did you not feel it? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Of course I fucking felt it! My heart feels like it’s being ripped in two. Do you think that was fun for me? Playing pretend? A happy fucking family? I miss you. I miss us. You know that!” Eddie shouts, running his fingers through his dark curls.

“That isn’t fair.” you grit your teeth, begging for the tears to stay in place but it’s too late. They stream down your face in little rivers, blurring your vision as you try to compose yourself but it’s no use.

“I know I fucked up…” he starts and you just shake your head.

“I can’t do this Eddie. Please don’t do this.” you beg, your heart already shattering into a thousand pieces.

His firm hands cup your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. Those pretty eyes. His face matches yours, heartbroken, tears falling onto his chest, silently begging you to give in. To take him back. To forgive and forget.

You close the gap in between you, pressing your lips to his, tasting the salt from his tears as you kiss him gently.

He was supposed to be the one.

You pull back, resting your forehead against his for just a moment before wiping your tears.

“I can’t, Eddie. I’m sorry.”

#eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson blurb #exboyfriend!eddie #Eddie Munson x you

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pastryfication · 30 days

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Heyy I loved your cochlear implant story! I was hoping you could do something similar where reader has really bad eyesight if she's not got her glasses on? It's a big fear of mine bc I can hardly recognize different faces without my glasses 😊🤞

the thick lenses help you navigate a world that would otherwise be a blur of shapes and colors, and you rely on them more than anything, so you’ve always been very careful with your glasses. that’s why, when you hear the sound of them hitting the floor and that awful crack that follows, your heart sinks.

you stare down at the bathroom floor, but it’s just a hazy blur of light and shadows. the outlines of your broken glasses are barely visible, and the realization that you can’t see them clearly makes your chest tighten with fear. you sink to your knees, fumbling to pick up the pieces, but your hands are shaking so badly that you can’t even grasp them.

“no, no, no…” you whisper, your voice trembling as panic starts to build. you know how dependent you are on your glasses, how lost you feel without them, and now you’re faced with that terrifying reality.

“oscar!” you call out, your voice cracking with desperation. you feel a wave of helplessness crash over you, the room spinning as you struggle to keep your breathing under control.

oscar’s footsteps echo in the hallway, and within seconds, he’s at your side, his expression shifting from concern to alarm when he sees you on the floor, your hands clutching at the broken glasses. “hey, what happened?” he asks, his voice full of worry as he kneels down beside you.

“they broke,” you manage to say, your voice trembling. “i don’t have a spare… i can’t… i can’t see anything, oscar.” the words come out in a rush, your panic spiking as you try to explain just how bad it is, how everything around you is just a terrifying blur. “i don’t know what to do. what if something happens, and i can’t—”

oscar cuts you off with a comforting hand on your shoulder, and immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice fighting hard to stay steady and calm, though you can hear the underlying worry. “i’m here. you’re going to be okay. i’ll help you.”

you clutch onto his shirt, your knuckles white with the force of your grip. you’re trying to breathe, but the fear is overwhelming, making it hard to focus on anything other than the fact that you can’t see, that you’re completely vulnerable. “i’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “i just feel so helpless.”

oscar tightens his hold on you, his hand gently stroking your hair in a comforting rhythm. “i know,” he says softly. “but i’m not going to let anything happen to you. we’ll get through this together, okay? we’ll get you new glasses as quickly as possible.”

you nod, but the panic is still there, making your heart race and your thoughts spiral. “but how… how can i do anything without my glasses? i can’t see, i can’t…” your words are choked off by a sob, and you press your face against oscar’s chest, trying to hide how scared you really are. it may be an overreaction, you’re well aware of that, but the thought of being completely dependent on someone else, the thought of not being able to do anything, is making your heart beat faster, feeling like it’s pushing hardly against your rib cage in an attempt to get out.

“hey, it’s alright,” oscar says gently, pulling back just enough to be able to study your expression. “you’re not alone in this. i’m going to guide you through the whole day, and we’re going to take it one step at a time. you don’t have to worry about anything. i’ll be your eyes until we get new glasses, okay?”

you nod again, feeling a small flicker of relief at his words, though the fear still lingers. “okay,” you whisper, leaning into his touch as he cups your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that have started to fall.

“let’s start with breakfast,” oscar suggests, his voice gentle as he helps you up from the floor. “i’ll guide you, and we’ll take it slow.”

your grip on his arm is tight as he leads you out of the bathroom, every step feeling uncertain without being able to see anything.

oscar’s presence is a lifeline, his calm, steady voice reassuring you as he carefully guides you through the apartment. “there’s a step here,” he says softly, pausing to make sure you’re steady before continuing. “and here’s the table—i’ve got you.”

he helps you into a chair, then places a plate in front of you, gently guiding your hand to it. “scrambled eggs,” he says with a smile in his voice. “your favorite.”

you manage a small smile, though your hands are still shaking slightly as you reach for the fork. oscar doesn’t leave your side, watching closely to make sure you’re okay, his presence a constant source of comfort.

the rest of the day is a blur of anxiety and dependence, but oscar is there for every moment, helping you navigate the world that has suddenly become so much more daunting. whether it’s walking you around the apartment or helping you find your way to the couch, he’s right there, his hand steady on yours, his voice a calming presence in the midst of your panic.

at one point, he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “you’re doing great,” he murmurs into your hair, his lips brushing against your temple. “i know it’s scary, but you’re handling it so well.”

“i don’t feel like i’m handling it well,” you admit, your voice small as you cling to him, your fear still simmering just beneath the surface.

“you are,” oscar insists, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “you’re being so strong, and i’m really proud of you. just remember, you don’t have to go through this alone. i’m here, always.”

you nod, burying your face in his chest again, taking comfort in his warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. you’re still scared, still feeling vulnerable and lost without your glasses, but with oscar holding you, guiding you, you know you’ll make it through the day. he’s your anchor, your calm in the storm, and you know that as long as he’s with you, you’ll always be okay.

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throneofsapphics · 5 days

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infinitesimal

batboys x reader

summary: upset at your partners forgetting an important date, you run to one of your old haunts.

warnings: angst, injuries, off-screen violence

word count: 2596

a/n: based on this request!

You closed the door behind you, head tilted up to the stars to keep the tears from falling. A full arrangement coated the night sky, constellations and galaxies beyond anything you could feasibly imagine. It made you feel small, infinitesimally small and unimportant in the scheme of everything, but nothing, nothing had ever made you feel as small as the conversation you’d just had.

Perhaps you hadn’t been together quite that long, just a few decades, perhaps they’d had a lot on their mind, but if it was important to you shouldn’t it be important to them? Maybe it wasn’t fair of you to put your problems on them like this, but with all of the emotions running through and heating your blood, fair was the last thing on your mind.

They couldn’t figure out why you’d shown up in tears, had acted as if your emotions were a burden.

Tears glistened at the corners of your eyes as you pushed the door open to the study, where the three of them sat looking various degrees of stressed and tense. Perhaps trouble somewhere in Illyria, that’s what it usually was these days.

“What is it?” Rhys asked as you studied the table in front of them, snicking the door shut behind you. It wouldn’t stay closed long.

Your mouth parted, but no words came out. You couldn't. Just the near-unbearable pressure on your chest, threatening to cave you in and suffocate you, bury you alive.

“Why are you crying?” Cassian, you know he didn’t mean to, probably, sounded irritated. You hadn’t known you were crying.

Azriel’s head snapped up, so did Rhys’s. A quick scan of their faces showed none of the understanding you’d hoped for, instead showed varying levels of irritation, so you did what was easiest - you left, not bothering to let the door shut gently. Soft voices, but no footsteps, followed you.

You stormed out through the front gate. You knew how to release some energy, and how to do it in a way they would despise. A way they’d convinced you to quit because it was ‘legally dubiousl’ and ‘dangerous.’ You didn’t care right now. Later, you might look back and think you were an idiot but in this moment it seemed like nothing mattered.

If your feelings didn’t matter to them, theirs certainly shouldn’t matter to you, but in the back of your mind ... the very back where you shoved them away, they still did. Still haunted you, mocked you, whispered make-believe insults and disparaging comments. Your mind could be a prison, and you were well aware of that. So were they. Were you just some kind of pet for them to fix up and ready to enter society? If that was the case, you'd make sure it was one of the damn hardest jobs they’d ever receive.

Well aware you were spiraling, you did nothing to stop it and instead let that anger build and ready itself for the next few hours. The timing and date was impeccable, as if this was meant to be. Perhaps it was, and perhaps you shouldn’t have had to give up something you love for them, no matter how bad it was for you.

“Giving her time to cool off feels wrong,” Cassian said. There wasn't any other way he could describe it other than it didn’t seem right and usually his gut instinct was correct.

“I can practically still feel her anger,” Rhys reminded him.

‘All the more reason to go after her,’ he thought, but didn’t voice aloud. Maybe he should’ve

Azriel was pensive in a corner, looking like he’d forgotten something important, or like he was brooding. Perhaps a mixture of both. Asking him what was wrong had only gotten him a non-answer. He didn’t ask again. When Azriel wanted to tell him something, he would. You were the only one who could get away with pushing.

“So how long do we wait?” He asked Rhys instead, who pinched the bridge of his nose. They were all on edge. Unrest in Illyria always put them in a rather sour mood.

“A few hours or the night,” Rhys’s answer made Cassian scowl, and he saw Az’s shadows flicker from the corner of his eye, “but she may very well come back before then.”

“She’s not a child throwing a tantrum,” Azriel said quietly. “There’s something we’re missing.”

Yes, and it was quite obviously driving him up the wall. Cassian racked his brain for anything there could be, but only drew up blanks.

He didn’t want to, but he’d listen to Rhys this time because when it came to you, the male was usually right, and knew the correct thing to do. He only hoped that still applied today. Otherwise ... he didn’t want to think about what could go wrong. Right now, all he needed to think about was the fucking papers in front of him.

He’d read the reports, he always did, but he was really a male made for battlefields. You weren’t a battlefield. Lovely and soft and everything kind and good in this world, he’d move mountains to preserve the sweet spot you brought to his life, and would do near anything in return to sweeten yours.

Before you he would, internally, mocked the doe-eyed males willing to do anything for their partners before but now ... he loved to say he understood it.

Drifting, his thoughts were drifting.

Cassian tapped the pen on the paper in front of him, a habit he knew irritated his brothers but he didn’t care. If it helped him focus now, he'd take their scorn. It kept him from launching into the night sky after you. Surprisingly, they didn’t say a word.

“I don’t have a good feeling about her leaving like that,” Azriel broke the silence of the last few hours.

Cassian’s head snapped up. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” He nearly snarled. Rhys fixed him with a look he pointedly ignored.

Azriel’s mouth pressed into a tight line and Cassian read the apology in his eyes, one he wouldn’t voice. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t the one owed an apology.

The next words set his heart into an irregular beat, his throat tightening, his palms sweating, and every nerve standing at ready. Adrenaline. He knew it all too well.

“My shadows can’t find her.”

His heart jumped to his throat.

You knew it was stupid to come here, but you came anyway. Still, as you stalked through the smoky space, you thought it was stupid because it would disappoint them, not necessarily because you were putting yourself in danger.

Right now, your own life meant little to nothing to you, and no amount of positive self talk seemed capable of changing that. You’d set yourself on the small course in front of you, and you’d see it to the end.

You didn’t take into account that others might have a bone to pick with your partners.

With just enough energy left to leave with your dignity, you emerged from the ring bloodied and bruised but somehow a victor. With the state you were in, it didn’t quite feel like a victory. It took everything for you to keep moving. At least there was enough honor amongst this crowd you were safe enough to leave with a pocket full of jingling gold.

You’d walked here to clear your mind, but would you have enough energy to winnow home? Fat chance you’d reach out to Rhys to get help. It was winnow or walk.

The choice was made for you as you exited, spotting someone you weren’t particularly thrilled to see, especially not in your current state. Licking your dry lips, you tried to come up with something anything to say as piercing hazel eyes ripped right through you.

“Hello,” you said, quite lamely.

He didn’t reply. Fair enough.

You shook your head, you didn’t owe him anything. If anything ... well, you wouldn’t go there now.

“I’m going home,” you said, and stepped into the light, wincing as you realized the shadows covering your face were gone now, and he could see your injuries and embarrassment. The worst part was, this time it didn’t look worse than it was. In fact, it was probably worse than it looked.

“I'll take you home,” he grunted, concern and anger warring for space in his features. Well, fighting to break through that neutral mask of his. Maybe you were projecting and he actually didn’t give a damn. That was more likely, you told yourself. Life taught you that if you assumed someone would hurt you it lessened the sting when they eventually did.

“To my apartment,” you insisted, but this time you weren’t feeling too proud to turn down a hand.

His hand landed on your shoulder, grip just tight enough, like you were some disgusting piece of trash he could hardly stand to touch. Maybe you were nothing more than that to him. The thought tore you into a thousand tiny pieces, the one movement more degrading than them forgetting the entire meaning of this day.

You never thought one tiny gesture could break you like that, you’d never thought you’d be so weak as to let it, but you let that pain inside, let it swirl inside of you and envelop every bit, let it sting more than the physical pain you were in, more than any physical pain possibly could as shadows swirled around you, whirling you deep into his night and to where or whomever their master desired, you doubted he would actually obey your wishes.

Azriel touched you so delicately because he couldn’t bear to see you in any more pain than you already were, even if it was pain of your own making. He knew the fights were ‘legal,’ although barely sanctioned and hardly tolerated, but he still wanted to find whoever your opponent was that night and rip them limb from limb. Male or female, he didn’t give a fuck. A dark beauty of his job was he treated each gender equally, in his eyes an enemy was an enemy, gender aside.

He winnowed you directly to your shared home, having already sent word to Rhys the moment you showed yourself. He knew where you’d be, mainly because the fighting rings had clever wards to keep shadow singers out. One of a few places in Velaris that did, and they only popped up when Rhys was gone. His High Lord hadn’t bothered with them yet, but maybe it was time to ask him to do a bit of tampering. For public safety, of course.

You shoved away from him the moment you landed. His amusement was easily hid at the effect - you stumbling back, him staying perfectly in place. He could’ve teased you, asked where your fighting skills were now, but he knew from reputation and watching that you had a mean right hook and after the words left his lips he’d probably feel inclined to let you punch him. Your next words sobered and cured any amusement lingering in his system.

“Do you have such little respect for me?” You were genuinely affronted. His mouth pressed into a tight line, any answer he could give felt like a trap. With a scoff, you stalked - no, limped - away and Azriel was left with the sinking realization that he should’ve said something. You were still in earshot however, hadn’t quite reached the corner.

“I respect you.” Were three measly words really all he could manage? Speeches and platitudes were more Rhys’s forte.

“Obviously you don’t,” you swirled around on your heel, swaying. He was there in an instant, eyes scanning you head to toe, searching for more signs of anything amiss. He’d only spotted surface injuries earlier, but it's entirely possible he missed something. Even he could admit that.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to push him away again, but this time he held on. He wouldn’t let you go - not like this.

“I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth, and shoved again. He took a few steps back.

He wanted to bite back at you, to say ‘obviously not,’ but didn’t bother. A shadow curled around his ear, whispering your lies. Lies you knew.

“No you’re not. Do you want me to get Madja or Rhys?”

Something ached inside of him when you hesitated. Yesterday, he could’ve sworn you would say Rhys without hesitation.

Turns out, they didn’t need to make the decision as a brief whoosh announced the arrival of the male in question.

Rhys observed you, his hands flexed once before he shoved them into his pockets and closed the distance. Azriel felt himself tense, especially as you stood a little straighter, stance widening like you were prepared for a fight. Having felt Rhys’s wave of emotion when he told him where you’d gone off to, you weren’t ready for this fight. Not one bit. Especially not as he heard Cassian land on the balcony. It was easy enough to set his priorities straight.

“You need healing,” he said, well aware both of the other males could hear, and that it would bite into their anger. Worry for you would always override anger, for any of them.

“I. Said. I’m. Fine.”

‘Hurt’ a shadow danced around his ear, whispering, ‘bad.’

Bad.

His shadows never lied. Looking closer at you, he saw the pallor of your skin, the light sheet of sweat he’d originally mistaken as being from your earlier fights.

“You’re going to pass out,” he said as Cassian strode through the doorway.

Your eyelashes fluttered. Rhys disappeared, reappearing behind you within the second, arms looping under yours.

Mouth parted, words trying to form, but you couldn’t get them out. “Don’t you dare say fine,” Rhys still hissed in your ear, before hoisting you up into his arms bridal style.

Like dogs to a bone, he and Cassian followed you both back to your shared room.

Azriel scanned the room, eyes stopping on the side table. A glass of water. A necklace. A book, with a … portrait peeking out.

Carefully letting a shadow mark its place, he slipped it from the papers.

His stomach dropped.

Two males, twins, who were obviously close relations to you. Brothers.

You’d lost both of your brothers to a sickness that had swept through your small village.

“Rhys,” he murmured and he straightened from where he hovered over you. Night-sky magic monitored your pulse and breathing, and he knew Rhys would be alerted at the smallest change. It wasn't the first time they’d taken care of you like this, it had just been a few decades.

He silently handed the portrait over, Cassian crossing to take a look at it too.

“Today was ...” Cassian trailed off.

“The anniversary of their deaths,” Azriel finished for him.

And they’d let you run off instead of chasing after you. Azriel crossed the room to stand next to your side, brushing his hand over the soft skin of your cheek. You looked so peaceful, despite the lack of color in your skin. He needed you to wake up, so he could tell you he was fucking sorry and that if you wanted him to he’d chase you to the end of this world and into the next one.

Still, he couldn’t regret bringing you here instead of to your apartment. The last thing you needed right now was to be alone.

‘Who are you to know what she needs,’ a nasty voice, not unlike those of his own biological brothers, taunted.

Nobody. Right now, Azriel was a nobody.

#batboys x reader #batboys x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction

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imfoive · 1 month

Text

Little Picasso

Chan x Reader (fem.) Genre: Dad! Chan, Established Relationship, Fluff, Slice-of-life Warnings: none! (mention of word “sh*t”), somewhat proofread WC: 3.8k A/N: I had so much fun writing this! Might make a series of dad!skz. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

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He had assured her.

The night before, the morning of.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“Go have fun with your friends. You haven’t seen them in forever.”

It was true. After Mimi was born, Y/N had been so preoccupied with the new chapter of motherhood that her outings had become sporadic, sometimes happening just once a month.

Her husband would urge her, “Babe, please go have some fun with your friends.”

Sure, they had date nights. Chan and she would frequently make time for each other while leaving their daughter in the care of either his parents or hers. Even though her mind would often wander back to thoughts of their toddler, Chan managed to keep her focused on their evening together, allowing them to enjoy each other’s company.

But when it was just her, when she managed to escape to do something she’d always enjoyed, things that didn’t involve errands, lists, or a child on her hip, all Y/N could think about was Mimi.

She wouldn’t say she was a helicopter mom. She wasn’t always trailing behind Mimi. But with their almost four-year-old inheriting her father’s chaotic nature whenever she got a bit too hyper, she couldn’t help but worry. When Mimi got excited, she would spiral out of control, often taking hours to calm down from her sugarless high.

Her husband was different. Bang Chan was always an anchor, level-headed and approaching things in his own orderly but calm fashion, making sure nothing bad would happen at all times. So, while some might think he would handle fatherhood similarly, he was different in that regard. Although he’d always keep a sharp eye out for dangerous situations, he wouldn’t always rush to the rescue as soon as Mimi cried. Instead, he would observe, waiting to see if she was truly hurt or if it was just a reaction to shock. Chan was the type to let Mimi try things that might result in her crashing to the ground or things around her crashing to the ground.

“It’s all life lessons. She’ll learn from them and approach things with more caution next time.”

While it was true that Mimi would tackle her failures with a more gentle approach, the worry never left Y/N.

But still, here she was, rethinking her decision about attending a brunch her best friend from college was hosting to kick off her wedding events. She already knew she was going to be included in her friend’s bridal party and would be honored to be a bridesmaid. Yet, on the morning of the event, she stood in front of her closet, staring at the dress she had set out the night before, filled with doubt.

“Maybe I should tell her I can’t make it?” She questioned, turning to find Chan in the middle of getting dressed.

“Babe, you can’t flake on her. You promised you’d be there.” He shook his head, reminding her of her best friend’s stern phone call warning that she’d better show up.

She sighed, hands resting on her hips, knowing she wouldn’t be able to actually not show without a guilty conscience. Chan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder.

“We talked about this. Everything will be okay here in your absence.”

She turned in his arms, meeting his soft gaze.

“I know, but I can’t help but worry. Every time I’m out alone, all I can think about is Mimi. I know she’s safe with you or our parents, but she’s become such a handful lately. I worry sometimes.”

Chan couldn’t disagree. Mimi was becoming a walking disaster, and even he felt anxious from time to time. But he was more concerned that if she continued to overthink, she might become overbearing and overprotective, which wouldn’t be good for either Mimi or herself in the long run.

“It’s part of growing up. She’ll get hurt, she’ll break things. But, even though she’s a little reckless, she’s such a good girl.” There was a proud glint in his eyes, and both his words and gaze convinced her for now.

“I should start getting ready then.” She sighed.

“Can I watch?” Chan mused, stepping back and eyeing her figure.

“Like you don’t already.” Y/N retorted with a roll of her eyes, earning a chuckle from him as he lounged back on the bed.

It was still early, and Mimi was still asleep in her room. She had well over two hours to prepare before she needed to head out, so there was no rush.

“She had too many of those snacks last night, so please don’t sneak some onto her plate.” She ordered, applying makeup while glancing at Chan through the dresser mirror.

He chuckled and nodded. “Got it.” He remained lounged back, supporting himself with his palms against the mattress.

“And the rug. I’m still worried about it… maybe we should put it—”

“Babe, relax. The rug looks great where it is. It’s been three days, and it’s still pristine.” Chan assured.

Which was true. Y/N had been contemplating for two weeks whether it was a good idea to place it out. She had been hauling it in and out of its spot for the better part of the week before Chan got tired of her indecisiveness. The rug was one of those wedding gifts she had forgotten about until she rediscovered it rolled up in storage. Still wrapped, still new and soft.

She sighed, grabbing her blush compact.

He was right. She was probably overthinking. Mimi understood when she told her to be careful on the rug. She even started tiptoeing on it to avoid ruining it.

Truth be told, Y/N was probably more nervous about seeing her group of college friends she hadn’t seen in forever. Besides her best friend, many of the group were much like herself. Married, with children, busy with their jobs and life. It had become harder for all of them to connect frequently. Her best friend’s celebration was a great excuse to bring everyone back together and have some time for themselves, which they hadn’t had in what felt like forever.

Chan noticed the unconscious smile that spread across her face as she thought about brunch. He was glad. She had been jittery since last night, planning her absence as if she were leaving for a vacation and not just a few hours.

“Which color?” Y/N asked, turning in her seat to hold up lipsticks for him to choose between.

He pondered for a moment before pointing at the right one, only for her to use the other. It still made him laugh, a cute habit of hers that she had ever since the two of them began dating. He still made a choice every time, knowing 9 out of 10 times she was always going to choose for herself anyways.

“That one is too pink.” She muttered, smacking her lips together, satisfied with her choice.

The sound of footsteps running across the floorboards growing closer made them both turn to the door, where their daughter made her entrance for the day, bedhead and all. Mimi ran into her father’s awaiting arms, still sleepy-eyed.

“Morning miss Mimo.” Chan chuckled at the sight of her, clearly pleased that she had slept well.

“Mommy looks pretty.” Mimi complimented with a groggy hum, watching her mother through the mirror, just like her dad had.

Y/N smiled, ready and all, standing up to show off her flowy dress.

“It’a green, your favorite color. Do you like it?” She asked, twirling around to reveal the cute pattern.

Mimi nodded, her eyes lighting up.

“I wanna wear a green dress too mommy!” She’s excited now.

Both Y/N and Chan laughed, and Chan patted down Mimi’s messy hair.

“Let’s take a bath and then get into our pretty dress. We do have a pretty green dress, right?” He’s looking at Y/N.

She nodded, and Chan immediately stood with arms outstretched for their three-year-old to jump into.

It isn’t until Mimi was getting into the bath, Y/N popped into the bathroom, fully ready to leave.

“I’m gonna head out now baby.” She said, her hand gently brushing Mimi’s cheek before she turned to Chan.

“Call me if anything happens. And remember—“

Chan leaned in and pecked her lips, cutting off the barrage of instructions she had been about to give.

“We’ll be good.” He said with a reassuring smile, turning to look down at their daughter, who was already distracted by the bubbles in her bath.

“We’ll be good, right Mimo?” Chan asked, and she responded with an enthusiastic “yes!”

Her loud “bye, Mommy!” echoed several times as she splashed in the water. Y/N walked out, calling back a “bye” before finally heading out the door.

As she stepped outside and the morning sun hit her, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her.

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“Okay Mimo what should we do today?” Chan leaned against the counter, having just cleaned his daughter’s face from the remnants of their breakfast.

“Snackies!” Mimi wriggled in her seat, pointing towards the cabinet where her mother usually kept the snacks, out of her reach.

The father chuckled, dropping his head. If he stared at her face any longer, he might cave and actually give her the snacks, which he was specifically instructed not to.

“You just ate baby. Let’s do something else, hmm?” He ignored her slight pout, picking her up under one arm and hauling her into the living room like a purse. Her fit of giggles was immediate, a distraction that worked like a charm.

The first hour of their morning was spent watching one of those random cartoons Mimi had stumbled upon one day and had become obsessed with since. Chan watched intently, trying to make sense of the random storyline and wondering why his three-year-old wasn’t confused by what was going on.

By the second hour, Mimi had moved on to clattering her toy tea set loudly in the living room. Chan glanced up every few minutes from his place at the dining table, busy with some work on his laptop but keeping an eye on his daughter. When the clattering stopped, he looked up to find Mimi staring at the TV, almost hypnotized.

“Daddy! Paint!” The child shouted, running to him and tugging at his hands to bring him to the television.

He looked at the bright screen, trying to understand what had his daughter so excited. Mimi was jumping at his side, tugging on his hand. Chan placed his phone down on the coffee table and turned his full attention to the television, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

A puppet dressed as a painter stood in front of a canvas with “Picasso’s Corner” messily painted on it.

Great.

Chan wondered how he was going to distract her this time. He knew she was even more excited about painting because she had recently been given a paint set from one of his close friends, which she hadn’t had a chance to use yet.

Stupid Hyunjin, Chan thought.

But as he glanced down at Mimi’s pleading puppy eyes, he immediately caved. He couldn’t blame himself. He was already heartbroken from the first time he had ignored her request for snacks. How could he deny her this fun activity that she was so excited about?

So, Chan cleared the dining table, spreading newspaper across it to protect the wood from any potential spills, which were bound to happen, even if the paints were labeled as washable. Mimi was beaming in her seat, wriggling with excitement and holding brushes in both hands. Chan chuckled at her enthusiasm, handing her one of the mini canvases that came with the kit.

“You excited Little Picasso?” He laughed, tearing away the plastic and packaging from the bottles of paint.

Another nickname added to Chan’s list of endless, adorable things he called his daughter. Even Mimo came from their game of hide-and-seek, which was strictly called “Finding Mimo” in their household.

“Yes! So excited!” Mimi’s eyes were wide, and her grin was the biggest Chan had seen in a long time, melting his heart with her adorable expression.

True to her new nickname, Little Picasso dove right in, her brush creating blobs and streaks of green, red, and yellow on the blank canvas. Of course, the paint quickly spread to her fingers, the newspaper, and even her face. Chan noticed the splatter on her dress and quickly checked the label on the paint bottle to confirm it was indeed washable. He sighed in relief when he saw that it was.

“Daddy, blue please!” Mimi handed him an unopened bottle still covered in its film.

As Chan began to unwrap it, twisting open the cap and removing the silver foil inside, his cell phone rang loudly across the room. He strided over to the coffee table, setting the opened paint bottle that he unconsciously brought with him, down and quickly picked up his phone.

It was a call from his friend, and Chan was already distracted, walking away from the table, and the paint bottle, and the white rug underneath it all. His eyes were fixed on the television, which continued to play in the background while he and Mimi had started their painting activity at the dining area.

Mimi’s eyes widened as she watched the blue paint bottle tip over from the wind of Chan’s swift turn, spilling its contents into a bright pool beneath it. The vivid color began to trickle down onto the rug, leaving a streak of blue that spread across the white and seeped into the fur.

The toddler gasped, sitting up in her chair.

“Daddy!” Mimi’s voice rang out, her paint-smeared fingers covering her mouth in surprise.

Her shout made Chan look at her, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of her paint-splattered face. But quickly masked in confusion, as he followed her gaze and was shocked to see the blue puddle spreading across the rug he swore wouldn’t get ruined anytime soon.

“I’ll call you back.” He muttered into the phone.

Chan rushed to the table, grabbing the blue bottle, now slippery with paint. His frantic hands tried to contain the spill that was freely flowing over the edge of the coffee table.

“Shit.” He grumbled.

“Shit—Mimo, pass me a paper towel, please!” He shouted over his shoulder, watching as the toddler scrambled to get out of her seat.

But as Mimi climbed out of her seat, the paper plate that Chan had used as a makeshift paint palette fell to the ground with a splat.

“Oops.” The child muttered, glancing up to look at her father, who bit back.

“It’s okay baby” Chan said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the growing chaos. “Just bring Daddy the paper towels, please.”

He wasn’t sure what he was trying to salvage at this point. The bottle had already emptied its contents onto the table and the carpet. All he was really doing now was playing in the mess, his hands and forearms smeared with blue paint.

Mimi handed him the paint-stained paper towels, finger-prints from her own messy hands. The toddler eyes filled with curiosity as she watched him dab at the remaining blue pool.

“Mommy’s carpet is messy.” She stated the obvious, her feet squishing against the blue liquid on the furry rug as she played in it.

“I’ll clean over there!” She announced, grabbing some paper towels and running toward the mess she had made back there.

“Mimi wait—”

But of course, she didn’t stop. Her blue footprints marked every step she took. Chan could only watch in dismay as the mess spread and his daughter, now resembling a walking paintbrush, continued her impromptu cleanup.

He inhaled deeply, trying to keep himself calm.

“I’m freaking screwed.” He muttered to himself.

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She hummed on her way back, feeling light and refreshed after a delightful morning with friends and the emotional moment of being asked to be her best friend’s bridesmaid. Y/N was glad she hadn’t canceled, as it had been a much-needed breath of fresh air. Plus, she had learned a surprising lesson about motherhood that morning.

But when she entered the house, which was eerily quiet except for the distant animated voice from the television, she narrowed her brows in confusion.

“I’m home!” She announced, trading her shoes for house slippers.

Before she could even make it past the threshold, Chan slid to a stop in front of her, arms extended to block her path. Y/N stared at her husband in surprise. Parts of his face was smeared in blue, his fingers stained with what used to be paint.

“Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” He pleaded, a guilty expression all over his face.

The stunned wife slowly narrowed her gaze, nudging past him. “What happened—”

And she didn’t get to finish her sentence. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight. Blue splashes covered the rug, vibrant against its white fur. There were blue footprints and red and yellow handprints on the dining table, the chairs, and even the tissue roll holder. Streaks of spillage marked the dark floorboards, cleaned haphazardly.

“It’s my fault. I put the paint on the table and got distracted, Mimo didn’t do anything.”

Mimi, who had been sent to another room and instructed to count to one hundred, decided she had counted enough. Although she struggled to recall numbers beyond thirteen, she had given up trying to continue. After hearing the mention of her name, she stepped into the living room, observing the quiet, tense atmosphere with big eyes.

“Is daddy in trouble?” She asked, her small voice full of concern, even though most of the mess was unintentionally her doing.

Y/N turned to find her daughter, now more of a mess than when she had left her. It was clear Chan had tried to clean her up, but she was still stained with paint.

Washable my ass. Chan had muttered, once he had realized the paint wasn’t coming off easily.

Chan thinned his lips, attempting a smile at the toddler, but his eyes stayed anxiously fixed on Y/N.

It wasn’t until Y/N laughed, fingers covering her mouth to stifle her loud cackle at the ridiculousness of the situation, that Chan stood there dumbfounded.

He swore she had finally snapped, that her patience had broken. That she had finally lost it.

“Oh baby, look at you!” Y/N crouched down, arms outstretched for her three-year-old to come into.

Mimi ran into her mother’s arms, mirroring her laughter.

“Are…you not upset?” Chan questioned, still not fully convinced.

Y/N glanced back at the rug, then back at her husband.

“Should I be? I mean, it already happened. There’s not much we can do about it now, can we?” She smiled at the child in her arms, lifting Mimi’s jaw to take in her paint-streaked face up close.

And she was laughing again.

Her words echoed Chan’s usual calm demeanor, but coming from her, they made him nervous. He stood silent, unsure of what to make of her reaction.

Sensing his continued worry, Y/N stood and walked over to him, examining him as she had Mimi.

“You two look like smurfs.” She said, stifling another laugh as she took his stained fingers, drawing his knuckles closer.

He sighed, gripping her hand gently.

“You’re really not upset? I know you were really worried about that rug.” He seemed disappointed in himself, upset that he couldn’t prevent the mess.

Y/N shook her head, smiling as she looked back at the ruined rug.

“Not upset, I promise.”

Chan wondered what had brought this sudden change in her demeanor. He was sure she would have berated him with “I told you so’s” or remained silent until her disappointment simmered down. That she would have regret ever leaving.

“I learned something at brunch today.” Y/N said as she returned to Mimi’s side, starting to undo the buttons of her dress for a proper cleanup.

“All my other friends were telling me about their children and the havoc they caused. I was surprised that our Mimi was an angel compared to the tales I heard.” The mother laughed.

“Then thinking back to the disasters our daughter caused, I realized our Mimi isn’t reckless, she’s just a little clumsy.” She looked up at Chan, who raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for so long.” Chan said, though he sounded slightly bemused.

Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, I wasn’t fully convinced.”

Chan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, still smiling.

“But you better clean all of this up.” She added, her brows furrowing with the stern expression Chan had expected much earlier.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll leave this place spotless.” Chan nodded.

While the parents talked, the toddler got closer to the painted rug, crouching down to see if the blue had dried, much like the smudges and streaks on her face and her dress. But it hadn’t, and she stared at it on her finger.

“Shit!” She exclaimed loudly.

Both parents snapped their heads toward Mimi. Chan, who had momentarily forgotten in his earlier state of frenzy, of how impressionable his daughter was, gulped nervously. He could feel the hot glare his wife was shooting him, too scared to meet her angry gaze.

“I-it was the creepy Picasso puppet.” Chan attempted to lie, though it was obvious it wouldn’t work.

Her raised brow and crossed arms were clear indication of it.

“Hey, at least she used it in the right context.” Chan continued, trying to lighten the mood, his wife only stared at him in disbelief.

“Clean. Now.” Y/N ordered, walking over to pick up her Little Picasso for her second bath, with the tell-tale signs of another cheesy grin on her face.

Seeing which Chan also broke into a grin.

“Wash me next!” He couldn’t help but laugh, rushing after the mother-daughter duo, his wife playfully pushing him away with a nudge of her arm.

And even though Mimi’s painting skills were what her father liked to call “abstract,” the little canvas of her red, yellow, and green blobs was definitely a family portrait according to Chan, was hung proudly in her parents’ room.

“A colorful disaster that captured the essence of our family. Our Little Picasso is a genius!”

Again, a proud father’s words we might have to fact check. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

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angel-sweets666 · 2 months

Text

Stuck together

Barbarian prince! bakugo katsuki x princess! Reader(fem)

Your parents arranged you to the brash and rude prince of the barbarians to save their own skin. warnings and stuff inside of the story: talks of virginity, talks of a virginity check (its accurate to the time period ok?) a/n should I make this a series? I think it’d be fun but idk ur rich btw so just like there’s rich stuff. Btw if I do make this a series(this is a sneak peak) it’ll be a slow burn

full version here

AGED UP

Mitsuki leaned back, her piercing gaze fixed on your parents. "So, what do you say? You give us your daughter, and we'll form an alliance," she proposed, pausing for their response. "It would offer protection from the Todoroki kingdom Flamoria, no?" The blonde woman smiled at your father, trying to sway him.

Your mother hesitated. "I mean, I dunno…"

"We'll do it," he interrupted, cutting off your mother.

"Huh?!" Your mother turned to him, shock evident on her face.

"Perfect. Sign here," Mitsuki said smoothly, handing them a piece of paper. It was a betrothal agreement, arranging the marriage between you and her hot-tempered son, Bakugo.

Your father reached for the pen, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. "This will secure our safety and ensure a powerful ally," he murmured, almost convincing himself as much as anyone else.

"But our daughter…" your mother started, her voice filled with concern and disbelief. She looked at Mitsuki, then back at your father, torn between the political necessity and the love for her child.

"We don't have a choice," your father replied firmly, signing the paper. "This alliance is crucial for our kingdom's survival. The Empyrean empire is strong.”

Mitsuki's smile widened as she took the signed document. "Excellent. You won't regret this. Bakugo will make a fine husband, many heirs will come from this, she is a virgin right?” The blonde asks “we can get her checked for it, *name* was very sheltered growing up so we can assure you she’s a virgin.” Your father explains, leaning back in his own chair. His gaze turns to your mother, who seems distraught about marrying off her child to the barbarian prince. Someone famous for being a violent person.

at 17 years old bakugo had brought back the head of a powerful tribe leader and put it on a stick for everyone to see, at 18 years old he had gathered a small army of men and defeated the midoriya kingdom and had a bloody cloak from the one of the dead soilders to prove it. Then at 20 years old bakugo had forced izuku, the Feywood king to surrender his crown. Which put feywood in the empyrean empire. No one knows where izuku midoriya currently is, all the people know is that he was last scene getting dragged by his green locks by bakugo and was never seen again.

Later on

“YOU ARRANGED ME TO WHO!?” You screamed, staring at your parents in complete horror. How could they do this to you? You make one wrong move and your own husband would order your death! “Look it’s not so bad..” “NOT SO BAD? HES KILLED HUNDREDS! THOUSANDS EVEN” “He won’t kill you though!” Your father exclaimed, An attempt to calm you. “Look, bakugo may seem like a man killing war machine of a prince but his parents assured us that he’s very gentle with women.” You scoffed, leaning your weight to one hip “bullshit. He’s gonna kill me.”

Over the next few weeks, you tried everything to call off the arrangement. You attempted to run away before the virginity check, feigned illness, and concocted elaborate excuses. Nothing seemed to work. Your parents were resolute, insisting that you marry Katsuki Bakugo for the strength of their own kingdom.

Lying in bed, you tossed and turned, unable to escape the looming dread of marrying the great, scary barbarian prince, soon to be barbarian king. What if he rips your head off just because you refuse to give him a kiss? The thought made your heart race with fear.

Suddenly, a knock on the door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. A maid entered, her eyes downcast. "Your Highness? Tomorrow we will wake you early to help you begin packing for the travel to the Empyrean Kingdom," she said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to avoid any kind of trouble.

You groaned and turned your head toward her. "When am I being sent to them?" you asked

"U-uh, most likely the day after tomorrow," the maid stammered, clearly uneasy with your distress.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of your impending fate settle even heavier on your shoulders. "I see… thank you," you muttered.

You looked back at the red headed maid “How far is the journey?” You asked her softly, she fidgeted with her fingers “a-about two days, they live f-far from our kingdom your highness” she stammered. You smiled to the red head and dismissed her.

As she left you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. The thought of being married off to someone you had never met, someone with a terrifying reputation, filled you with a sense of dread and hopelessness. Your parents decision felt like a betrayal, a sacrifice of your happiness for the supposed greater good of the kingdom

You stood in the corner of your large room, watching as numerous servants took gowns, corsets, shoes, and other clothing items, placing them into bags. "U-uh, don’t barbarians wear less formal clothes? Shouldn’t I bring less?" you asked the maids. All of them turned to look at you, a hint of surprise on their faces.

"Her Highness makes a point," the same red-headed maid from the night before whispered to an older maid. The older maid, seemingly more experienced, turned toward you with a thoughtful expression.

"You're right, Your Royal Highness. They would probably end up burning these clothes or turning them into barbarian-styled garments," she conceded.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping in resignation. "What do barbarian women wear?" you asked the older maid, hoping for some clarity.

"Hm… flowy skirts, I’ve seen a few wear headdresses," she replied, as some of the gowns were hung back up in the closet. The maids began to sift through your belongings, selecting items that might be more appropriate for your new life.

As you watched the process, you couldn’t help but glance out the window. Your mother and father were walking in the garden, deep in conversation. They seemed so in love, so perfectly matched, yet they were throwing you into a marriage that promised nothing but misery. The contrast between their happiness and your dread was almost unbearable.

"Your Highness, we’ll pack lighter, more practical clothing for your journey," the older maid reassured.

"Thank you," you murmured, though your heart wasn't in it. The thought of being dressed in unfamiliar clothes, adapting to an unknown culture, and being wed to a man you feared only added to your anxiety.

As the servants continued their work, you wandered over to your bed, sinking down onto the edge. The weight of your impending departure pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had grown up surrounded by luxury and love, and now you were being sent away, to marry probably the most violent man you’ve ever heard of

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about the future that awaited you. Would you ever find happiness in the Empyrean Kingdom? Would Katsuki Bakugo, the fierce and terrifying prince, ever come to care for you, or would you be nothing more than a means to an end?

"Your Highness, is there anything else you would like us to pack?" one of the younger maids asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, wiping away a stray tear. "No, just… make sure to leave out a few comfortable things for me to wear until we leave."

"Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her expression sympathetic.

As the maids continued their preparations, you lay back on your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You tried to find comfort in the familiar surroundings, knowing that soon you would be leaving them behind.

"So, what's the barbarian kingdom like?" you asked, looking over to the maids. The older maid once again turned her head to look at you.

"Most of the people live in either big wooden houses with all sorts of weapons around or in these hut-like tent things. Either way, they have all these symbols painted on them," she described, clearly having been to the Empyrean Kingdom before.

"And what about the Bakugos? Where do they live? You asked

"They live in a stone castle with intricate paintings on it, and there's a lot of security. The last time I was there, they had spikes on the bridge leading to the castle, with people's heads mounted on them," the old maid replied,

"How long ago were you there?" you asked, feeling a chill run down your spine at the gruesome detail.

"When the young prince was about fifteen, so around five years ago," she said, placing one last corset into a bag.

You glanced at the six bags of items packed for your journey, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. It was a smaller amount than you had anticipated, yet it seemed to signify the end of one life and the beginning of another.

"Did you meet the prince?" you asked, trying to glean any information that might help you understand the man you were to marry.

"Briefly," she replied, her expression softening. "He was intense, even as a teenager. Always training, always pushing himself. But there was a sadness in his eyes, a loneliness."

You sighed, trying to reconcile the image of the fierce, terrifying prince with the glimpses of vulnerability the maid described. "And the people there? How are they?"

"Fierce, proud, and loyal," the older maid said. "They value strength above all else, but they also have a deep sense of honor and community. If you earn their respect, they'll defend you with their lives."

The more you learned, the more daunting your future seemed. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing that the barbarian kingdom, despite its harsh exterior, had its own codes and values.

As the maids continued their work, you tried to imagine what life in the Empyrean Kingdom would be like

"Is there anything else I should know?" you asked, your voice softer, almost hesitant.

The older maid paused, considering your question. "Just remember, Your Highness, that if you respect them and they’ll respect you."

Her words resonated with you, giving you a small but vital sense of empowerment. You nodded “alright, seems easy enough..”

The day that you needed to travel to the empyrean kingdom came, your parents watched you walk from

The ride to the Empyrean Kingdom was grueling. As the carriage rattled over uneven roads, you gazed out the window, the lush greenery of your homeland gradually giving way to the rugged, bushy landscape of the barbarian territory. The closer you got, the more your anxiety grew, each kilometre bringing you closer to the empyrean land

When you finally arrived at the castle, you were struck by its threatening look. The stone walls were decorated with weird red painted symbols, and the spiked bridge, as described by the maid, loomed menacingly ahead. Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the carriage, taking in the harsh surroundings.

A group of stern-faced and very attractive guards escorted you inside. The castle's interior was as intimidating as its exterior—dimly lit, with weapons and trophies of past battles displayed prominently on the walls. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you were led through the cold halls

Finally, you were brought to a large chamber where a tall, muscular figure stood with his back to you. His spiky blonde hair was unmistakable. As he slowly turned to face you, his piercing red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away.

he was tall and about 6ft with messy blonde hair, scars all over his body and face, and peircing

"So, you're the princess they sent," Katsuki said, his voice dripping with disdain. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression one of barely concealed annoyance.

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you could muster. "I am," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bakugo scoffed, looking you up and down as if to check if you were just a weak small baby or strong enough to be a wife and a queen “Great. Another weakling to babysit," he muttered under his breath.

Anger formed within you at his dismissive attitude. "I am not a weakling," you snapped. "And I am certainly not here to be babysat."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see about that," he said, turning away from you. "Follow me. There's no point in wasting time."

You clenched your fists, biting back a come back to insult him with as you followed him through the castle. Every step echoed in the vast, cold corridors.

Bakugo led you to a large hall where a group of people—presumably his advisors and some of the castle staff—were gathered. He introduced you curtly, barely sparing you a glance as he did so. The looks you received ranged from curiosity to outright hostility, they clearly didn’t want you here. Just like the old maid back had home had warned, these people hated the weak.

After the introductions, Bakugo dismissed everyone, including you. "You'll be shown to your chambers. Don't get in my way," he said, the blonde clearly trying to end the conversation between you two before he could get sucked into some conversation he didn’t waht

You followed a servant to your chambers, a mix of anger and sadness within you. The room was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the rest of the castle, but it did little to lift your spirits. You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of your new reality settle over you.

Over the next few days, you tried to find your place in the castle. The people were distant and wary, their lack of trust clear in their every interaction with you. And Bakugo… he was even worse than most . He ignored you most of the time, and when he did speak to you, it was with a cold, dismissive tone that made your blood boil. He always had a tone of sass, trying to get under your skin constantly.

as the days grew closer and closer to your wedding date he seemed to just get more and more annoying, constantly having some tone of sass. Never wanting to talk to you and constantly flirting with your maids

oh you are so done with his bullshit

503 notes · View notes

ham1lton · 5 months

Text

i’m with the band.

pairing(s): lando norris x singer!reader

warnings: v slightly angsty? but happy ending.

summary: pop band CHANGE! has just released their anticipated third album; however, fans notice that the songs seem to tell an unsavoury story….

author's note: i didn’t know whether u wanted me to do a happy song or sad but i like drama. i refer to y/n’s bandmates by their roles. so guitarist, bassist and drummer so you can add their names in! also this album is loosely based on SAWAYAMA and 5sos’s album youngblood. listen to them both if u haven’t!! incredible albums. if you can name all these songs that have been mentioned then MWAH!!! 😍

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liked by harrystyles, landonorris and 3,388,728 others.

changeband: thank you so much to the best, coolest and awesomest fans in the fucking planet. shoutout to everyone who showed up to our listening party in philly last week! you were metal as hell and we loved meeting everyone of you. no more fomo for the rest of you all now that our newest album is now out! please stream and buy and recommend to your friends and family and colleagues and even that annoying neighbour that everyone hates. we love you and we love this album!! here are some behind the scenes pics of us making and brainstorming this baby!

view all 288,938 comments

user1: this album is sooo good!

user2: ooh y/n got her masters in cuntology with a concentration in motherlogical studies from the university of servington… that NOTE in dynasty??? oh goddddd.

-> user4: DYNAAAASSSSTTTTYYYY 🗣️🔊

user3: the casual photo dump like they haven’t released the album of the CENTURY?

user8: you guys have come such a far way from working minimum wage and having to pool money for a recording booth omg. i’m so proud of you guys 🥺

*liked by changeband.*

user5: the way guitarist is eating this album. whoever greenlit her guitar solos i want to kiss them on the mouth.

user28: bad friend is my fav! both the acoustic vers and the normal vers!! PUT UR HANDS UP IF UR NOT GOOD AT THIS STUFF!!!! 😍😍

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liked by messyass1, messyass2 and 278,727 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: girl band CHANGE! have released their new album ‘babylon’ and it has sent twitter in flames after the first tweet (pictured above) went viral. especially after the songs ‘lie to me’ and ‘want u back’ both contain lyrics that have sent fans of the power couple lando norris and y/n l/n spiralling. what do you all think of the drama ham1ltons?

view all 20,783 comments

user1: i do think it’s slightly suspicious… not necessarily a break up confirmation but it’s interesting. especially as she didn’t even bother to confirm or deny whether or not they’re still together on jimmy fallon….

user2: why do we speculate into these celebs lives? if they broke up, who cares and if they’re together… who cares?

hater1: who gives a fuck. she can’t even sing.

-> user3: you clearly gaf if you’re commenting under y/n related posts???

loveislanduk: don’t worry y/n! if need be, you can always find a new man on the island!

-> user98: messy asf 😭

user6: is tkl supposed to be y/n talking about how lando was super adored and that although he could have any girl, she’d be the only one who really loved him?

-> user4: tokyo love hotel is a homage to drummer’s japanese heritage not a lando worship song?? also it’s a metaphor for their heritages as three of them are women of colour who grew up in the west and saw their cultures exoticised.

-> user6: ‘yeah your fascination is my world’. that could be interpreted as her saying ‘your obsession is my boyfriend’.

-> user4: girl yeah but that’d be a lazy one would it not? lando ain’t that special 😭 i think that it’s reductionist to make everything she writes about a man and not her.

user44: calling the album babylon after the bible story? maybe they started with the idea of creating this amazing relationship and then grew apart? they stopped speaking each other’s language?

-> user56: maybe you need to put this energy into analysing your resume and figuring out why you’re still unemployed….

user65: idc if she broke up with that troll because that’d mean drummery/n will thrive!!

-> user9: um… u mean guitaristy/n??

-> user34: both wrong. bassisty/n is the best version!!!

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CHANGE’S INTERVIEW W/ JIMMY FALLON (transcript)

JIMMY FALLON: welcome, everyone! we have a special treat for you tonight. please give it up for the current leaders of the world charts, the incredible band CHANGE!"

(audience applause as the girls take their seats)

FALLON: alright, alright! now, there have been some rumours swirling around about your latest album and its connection to some personal matters. especially in regards to y/n. care to shed some light on that?

Y/N: well, jimmy, first of all, thank you for having us. i’m aware that there have been some rumours, but you know how it is. people love to speculate. our music is definitely personal, and yeah, it does reflect some of what's been going on in my life but i want to set the record straight. the songs on our album are inspired by a variety of our experiences, including relationships, but they're not always directly about any specific individuals. sometimes i’m inspired by other forms of media or my loved ones’ experiences. that’s the joy of making art, it can be whatever you want it to be.

DRUMMER: yeah, and y/n is such a talented songwriter. she has this incredible ability to channel her emotions into our music and make you feel whatever she wants.

BASSIST: exactly. we're just here to make music that connects with people, and if our songs happen to resonate with someone going through a breakup? then we've done our job. that doesn’t mean we’ve necessarily gone through that.

FALLON: is it true that you’re performing two songs for us tonight? can you confirm which ones?

GUITARIST: yes! we’re performing ‘want u back’ and ‘frankenstein’. both of our newest singles from babylon.

FALLON: well, you heard them, folks! get ready for an amazing performance from CHANGE!

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liked by bassist, guitarist and 1,272,973 others.

yourusername: we’re fine y’all perfectly fine please don’t call paw patrol.

view all 68,928 comments

user1: OH THANK GOD.

landonorris: she’s lying. i’m in my lemonade era…🍋

-> user23: you wish you could be that iconic. you’re in your dogwater era.

-> landonorris: UNPROVOKED???

user3: we needed this confirmation.

user8: PARENTS AREN’T DIVORCED WE WON 🙌

landonorris: now can you release the bonus tracks please please please 🙏🏼 ‼️😩

-> bassist: no :)

-> guitarist: yes :)

-> drummer: one of them is lying… guess who and i’ll send the whole album plus excluded tracks.

-> landonorris: … um 😅 guitarist?

-> drummer: WRONG ‼️ but i’m scared you’re gonna complain to y/n so i’ll send them over to you 🙄

user27: at least we’re back to having lando being CHANGE!’s biggest fans. what did he think of ‘exile’?

-> yourusername: he cried so hard he threw up.

-> user27: real shit.

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taglist: @cuteskz @molten-m122 @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @booksandflowrs @mxdi0 @k1arsworld @alexmarie29 @luckyladycreator2 @23victoria (let me know via ask if you’d like to be removed).

wanna get tagged in any future works? sign up for my taglist!

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mirrology · 4 months

Note

Can I ask a boothill with an adopted child/teen reader that's hps (hyper sensitive) and also has parental trauma

(You don't have to do this if you feel uncomfortable 🐧)

��star .ᐟ ʚɞ

୨୧ No matter that love's gone, We just see it shining. We've traveled very far, I'll keep a leftover light burning. So you can keep looking up, Isn't that worth holding on? — star, mitski.

boothill & gender neutral reader. platonic | wc: 1.6k

tags/warnings: decided to go with hc's for this one since I didn't know how to write it in fic format T_T. teen reader, reader is a galaxy ranger and really well versed in technology. they can fight pretty well, reader also hates the ipc. boothill is a bad influence. mentioned child abuse, child neglect, reader has a "mom" and acts a little like blade when near her, erm character death (not reader or boothill)

notes: aaaa sorry that this is so late! Hopefully, this is what you meant by "hypersensitive." If not, then just let me know, and I'll change it, ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH

— The two of you met when you were beating up some IPC goons on a planet that they had recently wanted to take over. You had been there gathering materials to set sail to your next destination, you were on the hunt for a certain IPC employee. One who you once knew.

— You couldn't just stand back and watch those IPC scum send that planet into spiraling chaos. So, of course, you beat them up without breaking a sweat. That's where Boothill had found you, he was impressed that someone so young had such skill in combat.

↳ You huffed as the remaining IPC personnel ran away with their tails between their legs. A slow sound of applause came from behind you, causing you to turn around, a deadpan evident on your face. You were met with a man with dual colored hair and what seemed to be a metal body, “I'm not gonna lie, you've got skills, kid.” He had said, a smirk on his face.

— Once the both of you got to talking, he found out you were also a galaxy ranger and that you also absolutely hated the IPC, you both really had many things in common. You had asked him for help in getting to your destination and he agreed pretty easily, claiming that he had “some time to spare”

— Although you had spent little time together, you felt comfortable around him, he never pushed your boundaries or forced you to do things you didn't want to. Boothill’s vocabulary surprised you, instead of cursing normally his words were censored. You would have offered to try to fix his synesthesia beacon, but just the thought of touching someone made your skin crawl. The ghostly touches of people who you once considered family etched onto your skin.

— Once it came to part ways, you didn't want to do so. You shyly admitted to Boothill that the thought of not seeing him scared you a tad bit. He looked surprised but then gave you a bright smile and told you that you could join him on his adventures, and so a strong bond between the both of you was born.

— When Boothill infiltrated the IPC headquarters you're the one who hacked into their system. With your experience, it was relatively easy, although Boothill would not let you go inside with him. He couldn't risk putting you in danger, even though he knows you can put up a fight.

— When the both of you escaped the headquarters after causing absolute chaos, Boothill brought his hand up to your head as he tried to ruffle your hair. He was surprised and slightly hurt when you tensed up and quickly moved out of the way.

— Boothill thought he had made you scared of him somehow, even though you had no reason to be afraid. You noticed his downcast expression and you quickly told him that he did nothing wrong, it was just…

↳ Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands were sweating. You reached up and gripped a strand of your hair in your hand as a sheepish expression painted your face. “I'm not the best with physical touch,” You blurted out, albeit bluntly. “Whenever someone touches me — even if it's just a brush of their fingers, it feels like needles are being stuck into my skin” You huffed, clenching your fist and your eyes downcast. Boothill's expression softened, his once frown lifting into an understanding smile. “Thanks for telling me, bud.” He nodded, his fingers twitching at his side, as if wanting to reach out to you. Yet he respected your space and refrained from doing so.

— Now that Boothill knew about your hypersensitivity he made no attempts to touch you, preferring to give you gifts instead. Whenever you do something that makes him proud as a father would a child; he takes you out to get your favorite food as a treat. Of course verbal encouragement is also a thing he does, giving you a “I'm proud of ya’ kid!” and a pointy grin.

— It's canon Boothill is pretty wealthy from all of those bounties that he hunts and he doesn't exactly know what to do with it. So he definitely spoils you at every chance he gets. Want a nice Keychain you saw in a shop? He's handing it to you right now. How about a nice piece of clothing or a cultural food from the planet that you're visiting? He's got the clothing in a bag and is urging you to try the food.

— Even though you both have your moments of happiness, the both of you still have purposes you stick to. You had gotten a lead on where that person was and you were going to do everything to catch up to them and make them get what they deserved.

↳ “You.” You hissed walking towards the woman in an IPC uniform, kicking another unconscious employee away. You gripped your weapon tightly in your hand, the woman widened her eyes in terror at your sudden appearance, she fell on her bottom, scooting away from you as you approached her. As she backed away she didn't go far, her back hitting a wall not too long after. Your unhurried footsteps resonated through her ears, making her breath pick up as she clutched the dirt underneath her in an attempt to ground herself.

You stopped in front of her, eyes full of unbridled anger. “(N-name)?!” She squeaked, putting a hand out infront of her to reach out to you. “What are.. how are you-” She was cut off as the back of your weapon slapped her intruding hand away. “You don't get to say my name.” You glared at her, your tone icy cold and unforgiving. She tried to speak once more but was once again cut off, “You left me to die! If it wasn't for my quick thinking, I would have been dead by now!” You said in a firm tone and pointed your weapon straight at her, leaving her no room to move or else you would attack.

The woman tensed up and a bead of sweat ran down the side of her cheek, “Honey… I had no choice! You would only weigh me down, you have to understand!” She had the gall to call you “honey” this woman no longer had the honor of doing so. The words stung, even though you no longer felt any affection for her… they brought back memories that you would rather forget. You clenched your teeth and watched as she rambled on and on about how “it was for your own good” and that “you should try to understand her situation” before she would get another word out, you sound your weapon, officially slicing her throat.

The blood splattered onto your stoic face, you watch as she choked on her own blood, eyes wide and filled with panic as if her life was flashing before her eyes… you hope it hurts.

A set of footsteps came from behind you, judging by the jingling of metal and their heavy footsteps you could tell who it was. You reluctantly turned around to meet Boothill's concerned gaze, “Er.. ya’ okay kiddo?” He scratched the side of his face as he pointed out the tears that prickled at the corner of your eyes. You stared at the ground and slowly nodded “I don't entirely hate her, but she didn't deserve to know that… even in her last moment” You muttered as more salty tears filled your vision.

— You and Boothill headed back to your ship, all while you were still occasionally shedding tears. Boothill, seeing the state you were in, offered you a warm, fluffy blanket and a warm drink; hot chocolate.

↳ You sniffled and held the blanket that was over your shoulders to your chest. You were sat on a cushion on the floor of yours and Boothill’s ship, knees tucked towards your chest in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. “Heya kiddo, I got ya’ some hot chocolate…” Boohill plopped down next to you on a matching cushion and held out the mug that was in his robotic hand. His hand was placed below the mug so when you reached to get it, you both wouldn't accidentally brush fingers.

The both of you sat in a pregnant silence and you occasionally sipping on the warm drink provided to you. Boothill stared at you from the corner of his eye, your gaze was focused on the window, giving you the view of the vast space. “She was my mother, you know” You suddenly broke the silence with your blunt words, Boothill’s eyes widened a significant amount, yet you continued.

“Even though she claimed to love me, her actions hurt and her words even more.” You put your mug down beside you and snuggled further into the blanket. The cyborg's face softened into something different, almost sad, distraught. His teeth clenched in anger at the thought of you being hurt by that woman, something ugly bloomed in his mechanical chest.

“But now she's gone,” Boothill started, making you turn your head to look at him with a surprised expression. “She can't hurt you anymore nor anyone, not when I'm around” He grinned, his shark-like teeth out on display. Something in your chest felt warm, it was different but not unpleasant. You offered Boothill a small smile then took a deep breath and raised your pinky up, “Pinky promise?” your voice a bit shaky, but your eyes were filled with determination.

Boothill slowly brought his pinky up, gently intertwining it with yours. They were barely touching but it was progress, “Promise.” The cyborg nodded firmly.

Tears pricked at you eyes, not in sadness nor anger, but relief.

“Thank you.”

#honkai star rail #platonic relationships #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr platonic #hsr x reader #hsr x reader platonic #hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill hsr #platonic hsr #platonic hsr x reader #boothill x y/n #platonic boothill #honkai star rail x reader

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barcaatthemoon · 6 months

Text

changes || mapi leon x reader ||

the natural changes in your relationship with mapi.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

mapi could tell that something was up. the locker room was a weird mix of tense and seemingly excited. there were rumors of new signees, but mapi hadn't had time to look at them. however, when she arrived at her locker to see a jersey sitting next to it with your last name on it, she realized what was going on.

"are you fucking kidding me?" mapi turned to alexia, as if the woman had personally sought you out to sign. alexia tried to ignore mapi, but the brunette's glare was too much to ignore. "her?"

"she's good, and we could use the extra help on the field with jenni leaving," alexia reasoned. mapi huffed as she hurriedly changed into her kit to get out onto the field. the less time that she had to see you, the better. if mapi was ever to have an enemy, it would have been you.

she knew that there wasn't really a good reason for the two of you to hate each other, but it had been that way for years. whether it be through playing internationally or in your clubs, you and mapi had always clashed on the field together. she knew that alexia was hoping that things would be different with the two of you on the same team, but mapi knew better.

"what is the deal with her?" ona asked as she glanced over to where mapi was glaring at you. everybody knew about you, but they didn't really know you personally. this was a brand new club to you, and you were going to keep your distance because surely these girls were all already mapi's friends.

you didn't understand the rivalry between the two of you. it had started back in international youth teams, and spiraled since then. emotions had run high for you back then, and in the year since, you had mellowed out a bit. many girls who you had once played against were now your friends, with the exception of maria.

maria seemed to hold onto the resentment from your youth. for you, it all stemmed in a single game. it was your chance to show how good you really were, and mapi had shut every single one of your attempts down. you knew how that it was just her having you marked, and that it wasn't personal, but back then it felt personal.

"go away ona, i don't want to talk about it," mapi practically growled. she was much closer to snapping with you around, and it was something that ona realized they'd all have to get used to. ona just hoped that it wasn't going to be a permanent change in attitude.

…

"fuck, come on!" you shouted as you rubbed your thigh. you thought that you were alone in the training room, so when you heard footsteps, you jumped. you looked around the room, surprised to see mapi limping around with an ice pack on her knee. "oh, it's you."

"don't sound too happy," mapi muttered. your face fell, unsure of why she was still being so mean to you. the two of you barely ever interacted during practice, but today had been put on the same team for the 5-v-5. mapi had played things a little high for a couple of the drills, which meant she had gotten you some great passes. if it wasn't for the bad blood between the two of you, there would be a lot of potential for a team up.

"what's wrong with your knee?" you can't help but ask. it's not that difficult to tell yourself that it's just because you're teammates. there was no way that you cared about mapi outside of the pitch. it wasn't like you had been catching yourself thinking of her randomly throughout the day or anything.

"pina, she jumped on my back and my knee buckled. it's no big deal. what's wrong with you?" mapi didn't hide the concern in her voice. you had hobbled away early during practice, and mapi knew you better than to think it was just to get out of drills. they had been ready to start your favorite one of practice when you left.

"it's an old injury that acts up sometimes. i'm good though, barcelona didn't waste their money signing me," you reassured her. mapi's face fell, wondering if that was how you thought she felt about you. truthfully, she hadn't been happy to learn that you came all the way here, but she respected you as a player. mapi knew firsthand how good you were, more often than not having been a thorn in her side when the opportunity arose.

"do you need ice or something?" mapi asked. you shook your head. icing your leg hadn't helped it at all. the tapes would help for a bit, but you needed something more. mapi tilted her head as she watched you try to rub your discomfort out. it was risky, but she stood up and stood in front of you.

"what are you doing?" you asked as you watched mapi move your hand away. hers replaced yours, working through the knots much better than you had been able to. "mapi-,"

"don't mention it, please," mapi said quietly. you nodded and closed your eyes as you leaned back against the bench. mapi was grateful for your eyes being squeezed shut because it allowed for her eyes to roam over your body. things seemed to be just fine between the two of you until her fingers pressed a little higher up than she meant to, pulling a very breathy sigh from your lips. "lo siento."

"don't mention it," you told her. mapi noticed the way that your voice shook like you were barely holding it together. it wasn't the first time that you had crossed her mind, but it definitely was the first time that she had ever really thought about putting her hands on you like this.

…

there's a definite shift in your relationship with mapi over the next couple of weeks. the two of you aren't exactly clambering to spend time together outside of training, but everybody could tell that something had changed. you opened up more to your teammates, no longer afraid that they'd all follow maria's lead and decide to hate you.

"hola maria," you greeted happily as you sat down across from the woman. she furrowed her brows as she looked at you, a slight pout on her lips. "it's rude not to say it back."

"don't call me maria, it makes me feel like i'm in trouble," she said.

"that's your name though," you said. she got up and stood in front of you, encroaching on your personal space. "what am i supposed to call you then?"

"mapi." she grabbed onto your chin and tilted your head up so that you were looking at her. there had been a weird bit of tension building up between the two of you that everybody was waiting to come to head. alexia seemed to watch the two of you with a particular closeness, occasionally with a look of disbelief on her face.

"fine. hola, mapi," you corrected. mapi smiled down at you, leaning in almost close enough to kiss you.

"hola, (y/n). are you coming out tonight? the girls want to go dancing." the invitation had been extended to you in the parking lot, but you hadn't accepted it just yet. you knew that tomorrow was a recovery day, but you also knew that meant twice the amount of drinks as normal. the spanish girls could handle their liqour a lot better than you could, having spent most of your adult life not drinking much.

"promise to keep an eye on me and make sure i don't drink too much?" you asked her. mapi nodded, smiling as she let go of your head. the two of you paired up for some of the drills during practice, something that had become fairly normal. after practice, mapi walked you out to your car, promising to pick you up whenever it was time to go out.

…

the club was absolutely packed, and you hated it. somehow, the entire team had been talked into going, which meant you knew a good amount of the people there, but it was still far too crowded for your liking. that was why you had sat down in a booth across from alexia and refused to move no matter what.

"are the two of you having fun?" you and alexia both glanced over to jenni, who looked disappointed. mapi and leila were right next to her, both of them looking at the two of you expectantly. "come on, it won't kill you to dance with us."

"it might, you don't know that it won't," alexia shot back quickly. you smirked as you watched jenni's face harden a bit. there wasn't a doubt in your mind that alexia would be in for it whenever they got home. jenni didn't like to brag about the things that she got up to with alexia in their bedroom, but the two of you had a habit of chatting in the gym.

"well, if you die, i'll just give you cpr," jenni said as she tugged alexia out of her seat. leila followed the two of them, trailing close behind jenni. that left you and mapi to stand there and stare at each other.

"come on, if ale can get up, so can you," mapi said. she was much more gentle in getting you onto your feet. she also seemed to be content to wait until a slower song started to get you out there.

you didn't fight with mapi as the two of you swayed to the beat of the music. her hands fell onto your hips as she pressed herself up against you. you welcomed the warmth of her body, not having realized how long it had been since someone touched you like this. your mind quickly went elsewhere, but when you felt the press of mapi's lips against the side of your neck, you realized that maybe she wanted this too.

"kiss me," you said as you turned around. you knew that mapi couldn't hear you, but she could read your lips well enough to know what you wanted. and even if she couldn't, you weren't being subtle at all. your eyes hadn't left her lips, not until she was leaning in. excitedly, you surged forward and closed the gap between the two of you.

mapi's lips were soft, a contrast to the way that her teeth nipped at your lip. you let out a little yelp, one that had mapi laughing as she held you in her arms. you swallowed as you looked at her before nodding towards the door. she nodded, and the two of you left the club wordlessly.

"my place or yours?" you asked mapi. she got into the passenger's seat of her own car, having given you her keys after her second drink. you were pretty sure that she hadn't drank much more after that, but in your mind, it was always better safe than sorry.

"yours. i have never been there before," mapi answered. you started her car, jumping a little as the engine roared to life. mapi laughed at that, placing her hand on your thigh to calm you down a bit. she knew that her car could be a bit much for someone driving it for the first time, but she trusted you. you had proven yourself to be one of the very responsible members of the team, especially tonight when everybody else had chosen to get nearly blackout drunk with a few expections.

mapi seemed surprised to see where your apartment was. you had truly gotten a good location, extremely close to the training grounds and nearby several restaurants and stores. mapi was a bit jealous, even if she did like her apartment. it was close by alexia and jenni's, so she could always go annoy them whenever she felt like it.

"it's a bit messy. i had a hard time finding something to wear tonight," you warned her. mapi didn't seem to care. her eyes dropped down to your outfit, appreciatively checking you out once again. it had been hard to keep her eyes off of you earlier in the night, and she was beyond relieved whenever you hadn't pushed her away on the dance floor.

"with how good you look, we'll be lucky to make it to your bedroom," mapi told you. you clenched your thighs together as you unlocked your door. once the two of you were inside, mapi pulled you in for another kiss. this one was firm without being rough. mapi established her control very early on, but you had expected as much.

you kicked your heels off before jumping up into mapi's arms. she carried you down the little hallway, stopping momentarily to press you against the wall to kiss you a little harder. you moaned into that kiss, grinding your hips against her just a little. mapi could already feel the heat coming off of your core, and she realized that she couldn't wait to have you.

"bedroom?" mapi asked. you pointed at the door at the end of the hallway. mapi pulled you away from the wall and walked you right over there. she set you down just long enough to let you move the dresses and clothes scattered about on your bed. you turned around to see her half-naked in front of you. "like what you see?"

"fuck yes," you breathed out. mapi smirked as she moved towards you. your hands immediately flew down to touch her stomach, fingers running along the taunt and toned muscle of her abdomen. mapi's head dropped down to rest on your shoulder, breathing heavily as your hands moved along her body.

"touch me." mapi guided your hands down between her legs. you were surprised, having assumed that she wouldn't have let you in so quickly. you had heard the way mapi talked about having sex with the girls she had picked up before, and it had all sounded very one-sided. although, you supposed that her letting you touch you like this was even more exciting because you did't expect it.

your fingers were met with skin made slick from arousal. mapi was panting in your ear as your fingers teasingly stroked between her lips. mapi bucked her hips forward as your fingers approached her clit. mapi's hands grabbed onto your shoulders for support as she tilted her hips just enough for your fingers to wind up at her entrance.

"one at a time," mapi told you. she sounded desperate, so you let one of your fingers slip inside of her. mapi hiked her leg up as she bucked her hips to try and ride your finger. you quickly lifted her with your other arm, pulling both of you back onto the mattress.

mapi stayed on top of you, riding your finger as you tried to comfortably adjust yourself beneath her. you could tell whenever the one finger wasn't quite enough for mapi, and slowly added a second. once again, you were patient as mapi set the pace that she wanted. you matched her thrust for thrust, not daring to go faster than what she was.

"please, i need more. i'm so close," mapi begged you. she was a lot more prone to whining than you had originally thought, but it didn't bother you one bit. you liked the vulnerability that mapi was willing to show to you, especially considering how volatile your relationship had been in the beginning.

"do you want another finger?" you asked. mapi shook her head, and suddenly, you realized what she needed. you dropped your other hand from her hip down between her legs, allowing for your fingers to brush against her clit. you felt a surge of wetness along with the first spasm of her cunt around your fingers. the next few came in controlled little waves, matching the rhythm set by the fingers against her clit. there was only so long that she could hold off on cumming, and once she had let you, you felt her body tense up around you.

mapi lifted herself off of your fingers before settling down in between your legs. she placed her hands on your waist and bunched them around your dress. you lifted your hips up off of the bed, allowing for the bottom of your dress to move up around your waist. mapi licked her lips as she looked straight ahead to be met with the sight of your definitely ruined underwear.

"i can't wait to taste you," mapi said as she leaned in. your breath hitched as you felt hers ghost across the insides of your thighs. it wasn't fair to see her so composed immediately after an orgasm. you felt like a wreck, turned on and no longer distracted with something interesting to focus on. you were left to lay there and think about how uncomfortable the now-sticky fabric of your underwear felt.

"please hurry," you whined. mapi hooked her fingers around your underwear and pulled them down slowly. she gave a quick teasing little lick between your lips, moaning in pleasure at the taste of you.

"so sweet, i could spend all night licking up every drop." the thickness of mapi's accent made you want to clench your thighs, but her hands kept them apart. she kept you spread open as she took her time to admire you. it was touching her that had gotten you so worked up, and once the two of you were finished, mapi planned on being insufferable about it.

"just please, i want to cum so badly." you looked at mapi with a pout. she bit her lip as she pushed her finger against your entrance. "two, not just one. i need to be fucked, mapi, fucked."

she gave you a quick nod and pushed another finger inside of you without hesitation. her fingers moved at a quick pace, nearly fucking the breath out of you. you threaded your fingers in her hair and pulled her head forward, directing her so that her mouth was on your clit. mapi didn't need instruction past that.

her tongue worked magic on your clit, moving with fluidity and precision. your hips were bucking wildly as you ground yourself against mapi's face. she let you push yourself closer and closer towards an orgasm until you were on the edge of it. that was when she wrapped both of her arms around your hips, keeping you still so that she could truly control when you came.

you hadn't meant to scream her name out at the top of your lungs, but it had still happened. mapi relished in the sound of it echoing off of your bedroom walls. your neighbors would be pissed, but you'd apologize later on, if you could even face them again. mapi liked the sound of her name spilling from your lips that she didn't stop there. you were physically pushing her off of your body to get her to give you a break, and even then, she was looking at you as she "patiently" waited for another turn.

"in the morning," you promised. mapi pouted as she settled in the bed next to you.

"that is so far away," mapi whined. you rolled your eyes at her as you pulled her in for a kiss. "just one more?"

"no, it's late, and i'd like to actually get some rest now. god, you're so needy, maria," you teased. mapi's brows furrowed as she stared at you, obviously not happy with the use of her full name.

"well, now you owe me one in the morning," mapi told you. you laughed it off, already having planned on having sex with her again in the morning. you knew that the two of you had opened up a can of worms, one that you'd be exploring for at least a couple more weeks. you hoped that it would blossom into more, but you didn't want to push mapi for anything too serious when you'd only recently become friends.

#minors do not interact #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Follow You Anywhere 10

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back to work but still hurting.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re grateful only for the reprieve of Sy’s shower. He spends at least an hour in the bathroom but it’s not nearly enough time to figure this out. He’s not going anywhere and you have no way of changing that. And with how things are going, it won’t be long before you’re entirely trapped with him.

The helplessness suffocates you. You slowly get up, needing to do something, anything to keep your thoughts from spiralling further. Or him.

You go to the kitchen and pull out some chicken. Even with your recent shop, what you have won’t last. Not with two people. You marinate the tender breast as you pull out the jasmine rice and your mini rice cooker. Everything you have is built for one, it’s another reminder that he’s invaded your life.

The bathroom door opens and you stay hidden in the kitchen. It’s only as he calls your name that you poke your head out. You don’t want him to think you’ve tried to escape again. Imagine that, escaping your own life.

“Here,” you squeak and your mouth hangs open. He stands in only a towel. It’s low enough that the trail of hair along his stomach grows thicker just above the knot. Your lashes flick and you cough, “just starting dinner. Jerk chicken and... and rice.”

“Sounds delicious,” he grins and runs his fingers through his beard. “Much better than field rations, eh, Aika?”

He whistles at the dog and she perks her ears up. Sy sighs and drops his arms, smiling at you dreamily. Your eyes wander to the scars all over his body; a thick raised one along his ribs and smaller ones flecked along his shoulder and a line on his lower stomach.

“I’ll get dressed,” he rubs his hands together, “can’t be eatin’ in my towel, huh?”

“Sure, uh, I... I’ll be in here.”

You go back into the kitchen and stare at the rice maker. You see the reflection of his scarred mind in his body. Again you can’t help the rent in your heart. That sympathy that underlines your fear. He’s a tortured soul but not one you can soothe. You don't know where to begin.

You put the chicken in the oven and set the rice to cook. Next you look for a veggie. Broccoli. Standard. You’ll add a bit of seasoning. You’re not very hungry, even as the aromas rise in the air.

“God, it’s hot in here,” Sy growls as he appears in the doorway that opens to the dining space.

“It’s the oven,” you say as rinse the head of broccoli, “sorry.”

“Ah, you know, it’s not half so bad as the desert,” he chuckles, “Aika knows. The way the sand gets all in your mouth and—and everywhere else.”

“I can’t imagine,” you murmur, “wouldn’t be a day at the beach, I’m sure.”

“Mm, no,” he agrees as he leans on the wall, “not a bad idea. I could take ya down for a beach day. We could get some good pictures. A few videos.”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” you focus on your task. You put the broccoli on the cutting board and pull out a knife.

“You want me to get that, sweetie? Don’t wanna cut yourself now,” he pushes away from the wall.

“No, I got it,” you line up the knife and chop the head in half. He winces.

“It’s dangerous, you got a smaller one?”

“Really, Sy, I’m fine,” you insist as he looms closer, “let me just get dinner ready and you can sit--” you hiss as you pull your finger back at the sudden slip.

“I told ya,” he accuses as he grabs your hand and examines it. His grip is iron and you don’t resist. There’s no blood.

“It was just my nail,” you wiggle the top of your finger, “please--”

“Let me do it,” he insists and reaches for your other hand, “give me the knife, sweetie.”

You hesitate but hand it over. You’re not sure why he’s so nervous about it. Still, there’s no sense fighting over sharp objects.

“We gotta work together, don’t we?” He says as he chops.

“Sure,” you agree thinly.

You turn to get a sheet pan for the broccoli. You’ll dress in oil and some spices, maybe a bit of lemon juice. As you lay parchment paper over it, he drops the knife in the sink.

He remains, crowding you as he watches you work. You spread out the little branches and drizzle them over. You put them in beside the chicken and rinse off your hands. You dry off and glance over at Sy. He's watching you.

“You really don’t have to stay out here,” you say.

“I like being around you,” he grins, “still can’t believe it’s real.”

Me neither, you think.

“Well, all that’s left is the waiting,” you set a timer, “so...”

“Ah, well, s’pose we can do that on the couch.”

“Oh, well, I was gonna get the laundry together,” you say, the excuse popping up spontaneously.

“Why don’t you wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“Right, uh, I wanted to get it done. I need to get back to my commissions tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “you work too hard.”

You withhold a mean thought. He hasn’t mentioned work since he showed up. What about that desk he was talking about? You know better than to challenge him. You’ll keep the peace as long as you have to. Get through dinner then worry about the real test; bedtime.

“Alright, let’s sit,” you relent and reach for his large hand.

It’s not an affectionate gesture, merely appeasing. You can still hear his voice booming and the thump his skull made on the wall. Not to mention the state of his face and the dent in your wall. You can’t forget what he’s capable of. You can’t deny that you’re lucky he only hurt himself.

He lets you guide him out of the kitchen and you try not to show your reticence. You won’t think of what happened on the couch last time. Besides, you can’t leave the food to burn.

💗

You eat at the table. It’s an excuse for some space. As you waited for the timer to save you, you were trapped in his embrace. His constant touching and cooing. You should be flattered when someone tells you you’re pretty and perfect but he just makes you want to combust.

You can hardly stay still. You clear the table and tidy up what mess is left in the kitchen. You can hear him prowling in the other room. You wipe down the table and peek up as he stops to watch you.

“Almost done?” He asks.

“Sure, uh, I’ll finish and get washed up for the night.”

“Washed up?” He echoes.

“Brush my teeth, wash my face, all that,” you explain.

“Oh, yeah, makes sense.”

“What about Aika? She need to go out?”

He stops and looks at the dog, still laying at the door.

“She should,” he intones grimly, “I’ll take her then.”

He disappears into the bedroom as you let out a breath. It’s not much. You know you’re just putting off the inevitable. He reemerges with the jangle of keys and you see your phone case peeking out of a pocket in his cargo shorts. He might seem scattered but there’s something about him that assures you he’s just as calculated.

“I’ll be back,” he assures and stops just by the door, “sure you don’t wanna come with us?”

You rinse off the cloth and shake it out.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You should come...” he mumbles.

“Sy,” you go to the doorway parallel to the apartment door, “I promise, I won’t go anywhere.”

You have nowhere to go.

He stares at you. His looks pale and drawn. He cracks his neck as he tilts his head one way then the other. He lets out a long exhale as he sets his head straight and he steps closer. Aika stands, her paws scuffing on the hardwood. You gulp as he makes himself bigger and glares down at you.

“I know you won’t,” he says quietly, “because you know I’ll follow you anywhere, don’t you, sweetie?”

You bat your lashes and gulp. You nod, “yes, captain.”

His lips curve and he reaches to grab you, cradling the back of your head as he pulls you close and kisses your forehead, “good girl. Get nice and fresh for me.”

He lets you go with a growl and you stand frozen between the counters. Aika watches him with her doleful eyes as he steps into his boots. He opens the door and points her out, not bothering to take the leash with him. She looks at you, wiggling her nose, before she goes.

The door snaps shut behind Sy and jolt you. You can’t shake the grit in his voice. The subliminal threats laced into his proclamation of devotion. He found you and he’ll find you again, so why bother trying to run?

You shut off the kitchen light and flit into the bedroom. You gather up a set of pajamas. A white tee and short pairing with little sliced oranges stamped into the fabric. You lock yourself in the bathroom and face yourself in the mirror. You look just as afraid as you feel.

You lay out the pajamas to one side of the sink and put on the fluffy headband that keeps your hair out of the way. You start your usual routine, the familiarity the only comfort you have left. Brushing flossing, exfoliating, moisturizing, and toning. It’s the little things you started to make yourself feel better but they just aren’t working this time.

You hear him return as you button up the pajama top. You stare at the door with dread and gather up your shirt and skirt, along with your panties and bra. You teeter on the balls of your feet, trying to find whatever you might call courage. He gets there first.

The knock makes you jump. You quickly go to the door and flip back the lock. He opens the door from the other side before you can.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” you answer dumbly as you hug your armful of clothes.

“Oh, you look... nice. Refreshed.”

“Um, yeah,” you say as you waver. There’s no room to get around him.

He steps back and waves you out. You carry the clothing into the bedroom to dump in the hamper and turn to find him looming in the doorway. Great.

“You smell good,” he purrs as he peels off his shirt.

“Did you lock the door?” You ask.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. You got me here to take care of ya,” he scoffs and hurls the shirt so it just barely clings to the side of the hamper. “Those are some cute jammies.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you look down and pinch the sides of the shorts.

“Long day,” he stretches and drops his arms, unbuttoning his shorts shamelessly.

“Yep,” you agree, “be nice to sleep.”

You go to the edge of the bed and slip beneath the duvet. You tuck your chin down as you hug yourself beneath the fluffy cover and keep your back to him. He flips the light off and you nearly whimper. The bed dips behind you and cool air flows under the blanket as he climbs in behind you.

You’re not surprised when he swathes you in his thick arm. He pulls you against him, his furry chest flush to you as he purrs. You grasp his forearm and squirm as his heat surrounds you. He nuzzles your hair and plumes hot breath over your scalp.

“Ain’t this nice? I could spend every night like this,” he growls as he keeps you curled up in one arm as his other hand trails down your side. “Never slept much over in the s—over there.”

You squeak and stare into the static darkness. You tremble and force out a yawn. Maybe he’ll get the hint. For once.

“I’m tired too, sweetie,” he toys with the bottom button on your shirt, “I know I’ll sleep all nice and cozy with you.”

His fingers tickle your lower stomach and crawl beneath the cotton. You go rigid as he creeps up your soft flesh and you latch onto him as you try to stop him. He presses his lips to your crown.

“Don’t be bad,” he warns in a gristle.

You let him go with a babble. He brings his hand to cover one side of your chest. He squeezes and lets out a raspy groan. He rolls his hips and you feel he’s in need again. You close your eyes and brace yourself. It’s worse than the couch. You’ve laid yourself down in his trap.

“You’re so soft, sweetie,” he fondles you, swirling his rough fingertips around your nipple, “so warm...” he inhales your scent and snarls, “you got me hurtin’ so bad.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #follow you anywhere #sand castle

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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Both Ways at Once Part 3

wc: 1565, Masterpost

Danny wanted to pace. He wanted to work out the energy and anger burning under his skin by moving. But he couldn’t— he wouldn’t. Red Hood still had a grip on his sleeve and Danny wouldn’t take that grounding point from the other, not when it seemed to help the man so much. Not when Danny knew how bad the separation from one’s haunt hurt.

The touch was also grounding him, Danny could admit that much. He knew that his powers were getting away from him. He knew they were seeping in that way that they did these days, bleeding out and warping pieces of the reality around him. It was more than he wanted to show the Justice League, but he couldn’t keep it all inside. He was spiraling.

Danny took a deep breath and tried to focus.

“It’s alright, Red Hood. You don’t need to stand guard in front of me. They won’t hurt me,” Danny said. At least he hoped they wouldn’t try.

“You are a threat to them.”

Danny shook his head. He could be, of course, but he wouldn’t be. “I’m not.”

Red Hood turned his head, just slightly. Even without seeing the other’s eyes, Danny felt he was being watched. “You didn’t do things their way. That means you’re a threat. They eliminate threats.”

Danny bristled. Not at being called a threat, but because of the picture that painted about Red Hood’s captivity.

“Perhaps we should all have a seat,” Wonder Woman suggested as she took a seat sat the table herself.

Everyone else hesitated a moment, but Danny nudged Red Hood towards a seat and took one across the table from the heroes himself. He held back a sigh as Red Hood chose to stand behind him instead, one gloved hand rested on Danny’s shoulder. It was an improvement, at least.

Batman took the seat to the right of Wonder Woman, and Superman the right of him. They clearly framed the man. John very clearly put himself in the middle of the two groups— both literally and figuratively. Uneven odds, but Danny had faced worse.

“I need the whole story, Constantine,” Danny said, not waiting for one of the others to take charge. His hands were gripped white knuckled together where they rested on the table. He couldn’t keep the thread of anger out of his tone, but he reigned it in as best as possible. “Because from my point of view, I walked in on you all torturing Red Hood in a way that could very well kill him.”

“We don’t kill,” Superman said, puffing up with his pointed words.

Danny stared at him for a long moment before he glanced up at Red Hood. “Is that the way of theirs you went against? The one that made you a threat?”

The hand on his shoulder tightened subtly.

“He’s a murderer,” Superman said, leaning forward as if imparting something important. “He beheaded people to make a point.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, crinkling his brows up purposefully in confusion. “Did I ask you anything?”

While Superman looked like he’d sucked on a lemon, Danny turned to Constantine. He knew the shadows were growing around him, lengthening, and he let them this time. “I need the whole story. Now, John.”

John glanced from Danny to the others, cigarette turning restlessly in his fingers. Whatever he saw in the big three, it was enough and he slumped heavily back into is seat. The sigh he heaved was full bodied and he just looked weary suddenly. “Justice League asked me to check something out in Gotham. Which is…”

Danny nodded and motioned for him to go on. Gotham was a cursed city of pretty notorious reputation in the magical community. In general, people of any real power stayed away unless they were up to something very dark. The only ways to operate in Gotham as a proper magic user was to be supported by Gotham’s curses or be supported by Gotham herself, and her favor was rare to earn.

“So I recruited the vigilante known as Red Hood. Not… exactly the one behind you,” John said, motioning with his cigarette. “And by recruited I mean badgered him until I promised to play errand boy for a few things.”

“…and yet you claim you didn’t know he’s a protector spirit?” Danny asked sharply, the words almost hissing with his rage.

“Pomp,” John leaned forward, spreading his hands over the table top. The cigarette barely stayed between his fingers. “I swear to you, in full weight, that I didn’t. Other Red Hood was alive. He reeked of death, but all the Bats do. You do. I went to him since he uses magic, abet dubiously, and is…” John shot a glance at Batman before grimacing. He continued anyways. “He’s a sodding Son of Gotham, alright? His presence at my side let me work in the city.”

Danny sucked in a breath through his teeth. Well fuck.

“How angry is Gotham?”

John shrugged. “That’s… complicated, Pomp. Let me finish the damn story?”

Double fuck. Danny leaned back in his chair and tried to unclench his hands.

“So we go and find the problem,” John continued. “Which of course…”

“Cult.”

“Cult. What else in Gotham, right mate? We fight, Red Hood comes in handy, but then the head fucker shows some serious skills— or paid for some serious skills at least. They go on this rant about undoing what made one what they are today, motioning with this staff. I can only think that it was meant to get rid of how I got my powers, but Red Hood shoves me out of the way and takes the blast to the chest instead. There’s a cloud of magic because the whole cult is showy bastards and when it clears, there’s this Red Hood standing there and also his civilian ID, or at least a version of him. Looks a might bit smaller, mind you.”

“Okay, sure, right,” Danny said. He could feel the headache coming on. “So we’ve got the vigilante and then… who he would have been if he’d never been a vigilante?”

Danny swore Batman shifted at that.

Batman never shifted.

Danny was about to call him out when Wonder Woman cleared her throat and leaned forward. She rested a deceptively delicate hand on Batman’s arm. “No, before he was Red Hood, he was a Robin.”

“What it changed,” Red Hood explained, voice rough even for the modulation, “Is if we died. I still did. I feel it. I’m the Robin that died.”

Even Batman didn’t manage to hide his flinch at that.

Triple fuck.

-----

AN: Surprisingly, Danny hasn't gone off yet! And we're starting to get more answers! Kinda? Somewhat. Now I wonder what that other version is doing...

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the Masterpost instead to be notified!

#dp x dc #dead on main #dead on main street #both ways at once

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bluebasie · 28 days

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Giyuu Tomioka's kindness deserves some more recognition!!

Am I the only one who hates when people interpret Giyuu Tomioka from KNY as some kind of unfeeling and mean person with the personality of a rock when so many scenes with him clearly show how much of a thoughtful, kind, and empathetic character he is??

His introduction scene is already an example of this when he (a person who has been slaying demons for 8 years and has a deep hatred for them) decides to spare a demon just because he saw Tanjiro and Nezuko’s bond and decided to give them a chance. I’m sure most everyone in the KNY fandom recognizes this, but I don’t think some people REALLY understand the implications of this action. The moment he decides to spare Nezuko he essentially becomes a traitor to the demon slayer corps which, by the rules or the corps, qualifies him for execution. Tomioka quite literally gave up his life and pride to spare a pair of siblings he didn't know just to give them a fair chance in a world that is clearly unfair. There's also the fact that after knocking Nezuko out in the first episode, even though he didn't have to, he put Nezuko’s robe back on to keep her warm, wiped the blood off of her face, and gave her a muzzle. Keep in mind though that demons can't get sick from the cold or anything and the cut would have healed itself. Tomioka put the robe on and wiped the blood purely for her comfort.

Going back to the fact that Tomioka put his whole life on the line for these siblings, It’s not like he just abandoned them when they got caught. He fully stood with them when the Kamado siblings were brought before the hashira. Again this moment was actually HUGE even though his status as a ‘traitor’ lasted only two episodes. In the moment of the trial he essentially knew there was a good chance he would be executed but also, he knew that his pride/reputation was gone from his peers. (Pride was very important in Japan during this time period) One could argue that Tomioka already wasn't regarded well among the hashira but at least he was at least a little respected, but, as a traitor, you lose ALL respect. One could also argue that Tomioka didn't really care about his life and honestly, I could agree to that statement but there is one thing that overrules both of these points. His loyalty towards Ubuyashiki. It's well known that the Master is well regarded among the hashira and even the master being disappointed in one of them would be terrible for them. Imagine how bad it must be for one of the Hashira if Ubuyashiki had a full on disdain towards one of them. Tomioka was fully ready to take the chance of being deemed a traitor by Ubuyashiki by coming to the Hashira meeting to vouch for Tanjiro instead of running away or something.

Then there is how Tomioka acted as a child. There isn't much shown about how he was before spiraling into a more isolated lifestyle after sabito’s death but from what we can see, His parents died when he was really young and he grew up with his older sister, Tsukato. His sister hid him from a demon when they were attacked to spare him and overcome by guilt, he blamed himself for her death and believed he should have died. This is one of the first examples of his self-deprecating thoughts after losing a person close to him and we can see them again when Sabito dies and also when Tanjirou ‘dies’. This shows how hard losses hit him to the point of causing himself to devoid himself of emotion because of the sheer amount of sadness his relationship's deaths brought him. The fact that he still wears Sabito and Tsukato’s haoris together as a memento for 8 years just solidifies it for me

There's also a few scenes post war that i’d like to mention such as the scene where Tomioka openly cries over Tanjiros death and exclaims that he’s failed him before apologizing to Nezuko. This scene also shows his tendency to put burdens unto himself in order to let others be happy. He also rejects help from the kakushi to sit beside Tanjiro and only after he confirms Tanjiro is alright does he allow himself to relax. Then there is the mention from the fan book that while Giyuu was in a coma after the war Nezuko fixed Tomioka’s haori that was previously shred to pieces during the war because she knew his haori meant a lot to him. Once he woke up and found out that she had fixed his haori and visited him every night, he was so moved that he sent a large multitude of gifts to her. It is also shown that after the war he allows himself to be happier and smile more. He is VERY clearly not emotionless.

The last thing I want to mention is his relationships over the manga with his fellow hashira. His friendship with shinobu may seem one-sided, Tomioka definitely cares for her wellbeing which can be seen when he asks Tanjiro about her during the Soba scene and in the fanbook where the hashira opinions of each other shows that he notices her fake smile. Tomioka knew shinobu’s sister Kanae so I’m sure he relates to shinobu about their common grief towards their deceased older sisters. Then There is the Uzui family which befriended Tomioka after the war and after Uzui’s first child was born, Giyuu was allowed to hold them. This could mean that after the war Tomioka opened up more, so the Uzui’s were able to notice Tomioka’s thoughtfulness. Then of course there are the Shinazugawa scenes. The infamous ohagi scene, where Giyuu gets so happy that he knows Sanemi’s favorite food so then he can like him rather than hate him that he flashes one of the three smiles he ever shows in the manga. There’s also the small speech he gives Kiriya at the final pillar meeting where he talks about how his father would be proud of him and how grateful they are to the Ubuyashiki family which ended up bringing Kiriya to tears before sharing another smile with Sanemi.

It is very clear that Giyuu Tomioka cares heavily for Justice and for those he is close to the point where his main character story is about his guilt to those he failed and about his feelings and connections with others so please please please stop portraying him as insensitive, mean, and emotionless!!!

Tanjiro, Nezuko, and Giyuu are Siblings fr

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :)

Had to add this pic lol

#giyuu tomioka #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tanjiro kamado #nezuko kamado #sanemi shinaguzawa #shinobu kocho #tengen uzui #kagaya ubuyashiki #sabito #kny #character analysis #character study

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throneofsapphics · 10 months

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Hi I was wondering if I could request either a feysand or rowaelin x reader? About how the reader is insecure and a really nice person and is like friends with everyone. And theres this one toxic friend of hers that like makes her believe that Rowaelin or feysand don't care about her because they don't spend eough time with her. Because feysand or rowaelin are really busy with their duties they don't have time for the reader and are really stresses about something so when the reader asks if they could take a bit of time off to spend time with the reader they snap at her? And you could maybe continue of from their if that okay? Could it have like a fluffy ending?

Sorry if thats too long and I really love your writing by the way !

how long will I bleed

Feysand x Reader

Summary: Tired of being ignored, reader finally reaches her limit.

Warnings: anxiety

A/N: ahh thank you! and please don't be sorry! I haven’t written feysand in a while so I apologize if it's a bit off, thank you for the request :)

“How often do you actually see them?”

“Every day,” you frowned, not sure where she was going with this.

“I know, I know. You sleep in their bed.” Their bed? As far as you were concerned, it belonged to all three of you. “How often do they spend time with you, besides what they’re obligated to?”

Obligated. That didn’t sit right with you, and whether she meant it or not - your friend was striking a deep insecurity, tucked away in your subconscious.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” she patted a hand on your shoulder, you fought the urge to flinch. Absolutely she meant it that way. “Just something to think about.” Right now, it’s the very last thing you want to think about now. Thankfully, she prattled on about something else.

For a while, you only watched. Observed. After some time passed, you subtly tried to nudge towards spending more time together. But, they were always busy, always tired, always had an obligation.

Obligations that ranged from formal events in hewn city, to gatherings with some of their friends either here or from other courts. Gatherings you didn’t attend, mainly because you couldn’t tell if you were invited. There was never an explicit, come with us, or we want you there. It started to feel like they didn’t care.

Actually see them. Obligated. Their bed. The words from your friend echoed like an ugly melody. Each week, she’d bring it up again. Each time, you brushed it off or shut it down. Reducing the time you spent with her would be the smart thing to do, but you couldn’t find it in you to cut her off like that. Even with the subtle digs and harsh comments, she’d been with you since before your relationship with the High Lord and Lady, and ending your friendship felt like breaking away from the past too much.

It took you a few months to accept that if you wanted it to change, you needed to tell them.

“Do you think we could spend some time together?” you asked over breakfast, pointedly keeping your eyes on your plate.

“That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?” Rhys sounded vaguely amused. Briefly flicking your eyes to him, the angle of his head told you he was already glancing at the clock.

“Maybe … maybe we could take a day off together?” You couldn’t remember the last time you spent an entire day together, just the three of you.

Feyre’s mouth pressed into a tight line, “I don’t think we’ll be able to.”

“I can work around your schedule,” it would be easy enough for you to get time off from work.

“We don’t have time to spare,” she snapped. Spare. Feyre didn’t mean it, but it felt like she was calling you a spare. Their second choice, always coming behind compared to the two of them. A small tear welled in the corner of your eye. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, a tad more gently. Rhys glanced at the clock again, then back to Feyre, eyes glazing.

Lost enough in your own spiral, you didn’t care that they were having a silent conversation in front of you. After a few minutes, they finally deigned to speak aloud.

“We have to leave for Court business. We’ll be back in a week.”

“Oh.” How long have they known about this trip? You didn’t want to ask. “Alright,” you finally said, throat bobbing. “When do you go?”

“In the next few minutes,” Rhys looked distracted.

Fine, that was fine. At least they told you before they left.

“I’ll miss you,” you tried. It was like your words floated right over them, only getting a gentle smile from Feyre, your words echoed with little sincerity. Rhys offered you a half-smile, and a gentle caress against your mind. They each kissed you before they left, winnowing on the spot to … they hadn’t even told you where they were going. Maybe your friend was right. If they cared, they would’ve made time for you.

Nice, you were always nice. That’s how everyone described you - kind, nice, gentle, a variety of synonyms. At this point, nice started to feel another word for pushover. You threw your heart out, only from them to stomp over it, not recognizing the trail of blood in their wake. The worst is, they weren’t doing it on purpose. Crushing you was an unintentional, careless, and passive habit. It was their default.

This time, they’d pushed you right to the edge, to a place they’d actually have to try to drag you back from.

A week was more than enough time to move out and crash with your cousin. She didn’t ask too many prying questions, only offered up her home and spare room.

Rhys was excited to see you. He did feel a bit guilty at how they shot down your idea, how they had to leave you with such little notice. Time, that’s all you’d asked for, and they could manage that. If not this month, then the next. Stress had gotten the best of both of them recently, what felt like a thousand different negotiations to go through, a plethora of contracts and trade negotiations to review, left little time to spend with you, beyond the brief moment over breakfast occasionally, or before bed. Until you’d mentioned it, until he had some spare moments to reflect, Rhys didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten.

He knew something was wrong as soon as they entered the Riverhouse. Your scent was … stale, and faint. Like you hadn’t been here in a week. Maybe you’d gone to stay with your cousin or a friend, a big house can be lonely by yourself. That’s what he probably would’ve done. Rhys tried to extend a mental bridge, to reach your mind, but was greeted with a wall of stone. A wall he’d taught you, designed to keep him out.

“Can you reach her?” He asked Feyre.

A few seconds pause. She shook her head.

Walking through the house, he carefully looked for any signs of distress. Could someone have broken in here and taken you? His mind went to the worst case scenario, heart beginning to race.

A note, pinned under the salt shaker on their breakfast table.

I’m tired of being pushed aside.

Sorry to leave like this, but it’s for the best.

Two lines, not even your name signed at the bottom. A small spot smudged the last word, like a tear had dropped onto it. Hurt, anger, betrayal, fear, and regret flooded him at once.

It was the worst and best week of your life. Worst, because you missed them more than you wanted to, and they kept showing up in your dreams - uninvited. Best, because you finally felt free. With the pressure of a falling relationship gone, you could breathe again.

Anticipation filled you as the week came to the end. Would they try to find you? Would they care enough to? The question you really needed to ask yourself, is if you’d take them back. After their return, you’d learn just how much you meant to them. You’d learn if you truly were the spare.

Eight days after you left, you dragged yourself out of bed for an early shift, regretting the extra glass of wine you indulged in last night.

Slipping through the alley, around the back door, you didn’t notice him at first. Fumbling with your keys, you finally managed to slide it into the lock when you heard your name. The voice that had haunted your dreams for the last week.

A squeak, and keys clattered down on the cobblestone, the sound echoing. Bracing your hand on the door, you took deep breaths to slow your heart, before turning to face him.

Rhys stood there, looking like he hadn’t slept at all, blue-purple half moons under his eyes, messy hair like he’d been running his hands through it. He raised one hand, a small piece of paper balanced between two fingers. Your note. It was quite brief, but you’d been angry at the time and couldn’t find it in yourself to come up with flowery words.

“For the best,” he quoted. “Do you really believe that?”

Oh, that put you right on the defensive. “I said it, didn’t I?”

The paper vanished, and he tucked his hands into his pockets. “I don’t want it to end like this.”

It. One tiny word to sum up three years. “But you want it to end?” your voice came out small.

“No,” he said harshly, closing the space between the two of you. “I don’t.” You didn’t reply. You didn’t know what to say. “When do you get off?” He finally asked. Gentle claws poked at your mind, but you slammed your shields back up.

“Two,” then your coworker would come take over.

“We’ll be here,” he reached out, running his thumb over your cheek. It took all of your self control not to lean into the touch. Taking a step back, he winnowed.

That entire morning and afternoon, you were … off, to say the least. But, work helped relieve some of your anxiety, falling into the monotonous tasks you’d done for years.

We’ll be here. What did he expect to happen? What did you want to happen?

By the time two came around, your coworker arrived a few minutes early, you were a ball of anxiety, your entire body tense, heart beating fast, mind swirling.

“There’s two someones waiting out there for you,” she nudged your shoulder, tilting her chin towards the alley. Giving her a tight smile, you gathered up the rest of your things, to take a few breaths. In and out. You could do this.

Feyre’s eyes lit up as you swung the door open, excitement tinged with a bit of melancholy. You chose to focus on the excitement.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and even with the lingering hint of resentment you felt more loved than you had in months. Part of you recognized that might be a red flag, that even a few hours of attention could have that effect on you, but it was easily brushed aside.

You were nestled between the two of them, on a bench overlooking the Sidra. Rhys’s hand ran lazy strokes up and down your thigh, Feyre’s arm curled over your shoulders as you leaned into her. Gentle currents rolled back and forth, bouncing off of the stone walls caging in the river, music floating through the streets. Loud enough to hear clearly, but not so loud that it could drown out any conversation.

“Come home with us,” she said softly.

A moment of hesitation, but you knew you couldn’t resist.

“I will.”

#feysand x reader #feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x reader #acotar drabble #rhysand x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x reader #feyre archeron x y/n #rhys x reader #rhys x y/n #acotar imagine

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