#i do think that this pit of anger was eventually covered and soothed by the ponds

[greencarnation]

eleven is fascinating to me because he came right off the back of tens horrible traumatic breakdown after he lost everything and he immediately tried to establish himself as the opposite of that. he is funny and goofy and almost childlike, and he bulldozes on in his adventures with amy like nothing happened at all. but then something happens and his masks slips and it's like oh! the core of this man is still anger. he is so so angry all of the time and this façade is the only thing stopping him from being consumed by it. he isn't over any of it and he hasn't moved on. he is wearing a fez and laughing but under that all that exists is age old anger and grief and it is going to consume him

[sky-berrie]

How would the batboys react to a female SO with Paranoid Personality Disorder?

Hi there!

Thanks so much for the ask. I hope this is okay :)

-Sky

Bruce

As a person living with paranoid personality disorder, you might be terrified that people are out to harm you. Your place of residence, Gotham city, does nothing but exacerbate your paranoid thought patterns, since criminals run rampant through the streets. It’s hard to distinguish between paranoid thoughts and substantiated concerns. Is that sketchy person with the full face covering one of Black Mask’s False Face Society members sent to abduct you, or are they just a conscientious citizen taking extra precautions to avoid contracting or transmitting the COVID virus? Being in a state of constant fear prevents you from living your life to the fullest. Luckily, your S/O happens to be Batman in his free time.

Bruce eases your mind just with his presence. He’s probably the smartest, strongest, and most resourceful person you know and being with him makes you feel safe. Bruce is the kind of person who you’d blindly listen to during an emergency – if he told you to jump out of a burning plane, you’d do it without a second thought because he’s never let you down in the past and you’re confident that he never will in the future. If you’re feeling fearful in public, Bruce will grab your hand or put an arm around you securely and soothingly whisper in your ear that he’s right here and there’s nothing to worry about. Having paranoid thoughts means that it’s difficult to reason with you, so you probably aren’t convinced that there is no threat, but you do experience some relief from his soft touch and gentle words. He’ll ask if you want to leave and he’ll take you to your safe space. If you’re feeling fearful in private, Bruce will hold you close and rub your back to reduce your anxiety. If you’re by yourself and start to have those racing, panicked paranoid thoughts, you can always call Bruce. He’ll drop whatever he is doing and come take care of you.

Bruce will teach you self defense to help you feel more comfortable around people. He won’t arm you with any dangerous weapons because he doesn’t want an innocent person to get hurt if you get spooked. Bruce will ask if you want to move into the manor since it has strong security and comes with several vigilantes. If you would rather stay at your own place, Bruce will install a variety of safety systems to make you feel protected. He’ll even spend most nights at your place so you can sleep peacefully. Overall, Bruce is like your lifeline. He’ll know just what to do to help you through your difficult thoughts.

Dick

Dick is a social butterfly who’s had his fair share of romantic partners in the past so it’s natural for you to feel jealous when he spends time with other people. Dick will adamantly declare that he’s with you and only you. At first you might try to ignore the prickly feeling of jealousy because you don’t want to come off as a possessive S/O, but the clues accumulate and suggest that he’s cheating on you. For example, he’ll rarely spend the night with you. You’ll catch him sneaking into bed at ungodly hours of the morning. When confronted, he’ll make up an excuse that he just went to get a drink of water or use the bathroom. You’ll spot bruises scattered over his chest knowing you definitely did not leave those there. He’ll play it off as a gym injury.

When you raise your suspicions, Dick is hesitant to explain. You take this as confirmation of infidelity and you’re ready to walk out. At that point, he has no choice but to come clean about his secret identity as Nightwing. That sounds farfetched and you likely think he’s a pathological liar. Finally, Dick proves it to you and explains that he didn’t want you to be dragged into his dangerous nightlife. While you accept that as the truth, you’ll always wonder if he’s hiding more secrets. Furthermore, you’re probably pissed that he was gaslighting you. Dick will do everything he can to make it up to you. He’ll apologize profusely and in extravagant ways, be more transparent, and shower you with excessive love and affection. It might take a long time, but eventually Dick will worm his way back into your good graces.

It doesn’t take long for the green-eyed monster to rear its’ ugly head again. Now that you’re in the know, you’re hyperaware of the attractive vigilantes that Dick works with and it’s emotionally draining to be jealous all the time. You don’t want to be the type of person who tries to control their partner’s life, but when the suffering becomes too much to bear, you might ask him to stop seeing certain people. Dick will calmly assure you that there isn’t anything going on with any of his vigilante friends. If that doesn’t appease you, he’ll suggest that you hang out with the team and get to know them. He hopes that you’ll see that there aren’t any romantic feelings between them. Whatever you do, please don’t force him to choose between you and his hero life. It will tear him apart.

Jason

Trust is very important to Jason. He doesn’t trust many people as it is and needs a S/O who he can trust wholeheartedly and who will trust him in return. He believes that this relationship will fail if you don’t have confidence in each other. He’ll take it personally if you distrust him. Jason will get defensive and frustrated if you accuse him of being unfaithful, especially if you don’t have a shred of evidence to support your claims. He’ll be offended and deeply hurt that you think so negatively of him but once he’s had some time to cool off, he’ll be able to process everything more objectively. He’ll accept that you can’t control the way you feel. You’d explained it to him once that you do trust him, but there’s a separate voice in your head that tells you otherwise. Jason won’t give up on you though. He’ll come up with a proposition - he’ll agree to install a tracking app on his phone so you can monitor his whereabouts if you’ll promise to work on learning to trust him, whether it be via professional psychotherapy or reading self-help books.

On the other hand, if Jason is one of the only people you trust, he’ll be elated to know that you two have built such a strong connection. It’ll be easy to confide in him because he’ll gladly listen to your worried thoughts with no judgement. At first, he’ll reassure you that nothing bad is going to happen to you – he’s Red Hood and nobody is going to pull anything on you if they value their life. Eventually he’ll realize that trying to reason with you isn’t helpful so he’ll stick to active listening when you’re experiencing paranoid thoughts.

However, if Jason is fresh out of the pit and emotionally unstable, you two will probably bond over your mutual distrust and cynicism about the world. Although you and Jason will get along exceptionally well, it’s possible that your irrational thoughts may feed each other’s paranoia and exacerbate the feelings of mistrust and suspicion. If you find yourself unable to let things go, feel free to vent away when you’re with Jason. He is the king of holding grudges, so he’ll probably support you and even join in on trash talking that person with you when you’re angry. Learning to forgive and forget is something you and Jason can work on together. In a way, it brings you two closer together since you understand each other on a level that others can’t begin to comprehend.

Tim

Tim very compassionate and patient; however, he’s afraid of triggering you so he’s often walking on eggshells around you. He just wants to be the perfect supportive S/O for you and doesn’t want to mess up the relationship. His worst offense (in your eyes) is using ambiguous language that lends to multiple interpretations. For example, he might innocently compliment your clothes/hair/makeup and you might assume that he only likes you for your appearance or that he’s implying that you’re vain for wanting to look nice. The moment you shoot him daggers, he’s realized his mistake and starts to furiously backpedal. He tries to explain himself, but he usually ends up digging himself a deeper hole. Eventually, he gets better at expressing his thoughts carefully so that they can’t be misconstrued.

Tim diligently tries to learn your other triggers and how to help. When you’re stuck in a cycle of paranoid thoughts, Tim will get you to focus on what’s real instead of trying to make you see sense. He’ll help you relax by walking you through breathing exercises, playing soothing music, or whatever strategies you find helpful.

Tim isn’t proud of this, but he’s resorted to deceiving you when necessary. For instance, if you’re experiencing paranoid thought patterns and want to be alone, Tim will hesitantly leave, but he’ll probably secretly monitor you only because he’s worried about your safety. If you’re afraid that others are reading your mind, he might pretend that he invented an anti-mindreading helmet to ease your suspicions. He knows you would feel betrayed if you ever found out about his dishonesty, but he reasons that your safety and comfort are more important in the moment.

Damian

Arguments with Damian are brutal. No matter how insignificant the disagreement is, Damian refuses to back down when he believes he’s right. Paired with your own stubbornness and contentiousness, these quarrels generally result in an impasse. Eventually your anger subsides and the depression sinks in. You might assume that Damian doesn’t love you anymore and that fight was the end of your relationship. Maybe you start packing your belongings to move out right away. Damian comes up behind you and asks what you’re doing. When you tell him that you’re leaving because he doesn’t want you anymore, he’s instantly remorseful. He takes your bags out of your hands and proceeds to pull you in close as he tells you how much he loves you. He assures you that two people can disagree and still love each other.

Damian doesn’t want to argue with you and he certainly doesn’t want to see you upset so he’ll always excuse himself before the argument becomes too heated. He hopes that some time apart will allow you both to calm down and come to a compromise, but it’s never that simple. Most of the time, you’ll need a third-party mediator, like a therapist, to resolve your dispute. The act of seeking out a therapist will be a huge accomplishment for your relationship. Damian likes his privacy and doesn’t want someone else in his business and you might be afraid to share intimate information with a stranger in fear that it will be used against you. Nevertheless, you both want to make this relationship work, so you’ll continue to seek help.

Damian has a habit of being blunt. He doesn’t mean to criticize or insult you – in his mind, he is only stating the facts or his opinion for the purpose of helping you improve. Despite his goodhearted intentions, it’s easy for you to take his comments the wrong way and perceive it as a personal attack. If he sees that his remarks have upset you, he’ll acknowledge all the positive aspects of your performance. Still, you might cling to the disparaging comments and ignore the praise. Going forward, Damian will try to be more encouraging and constructive and will only express feedback if you invite him to do so.

[aonesteddybear]

According To Him

akaashi keji x  female reader

warnings: cheating, soft angst, body worship oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 5001

notes: this is for the nsfw hq server collab, which the prompt was " I wonder what he would do if he knew you were with me right now ” akaashi was one of two of the pieces i wrote for this collab so be sure to keep an eye out for terushima which will be posted later in the day. be sure to check out the masterlist here and see all the other great writings and artwork done!

thanks for the beta @daishou-s​

Hot tears slipped down your cheeks in frustration as the door slammed. The apartment was eerily quiet. The only noise filling your ears was the occasional soft sniffle as you furiously rubbed at your eyes, willing yourself to stop crying despite the very real reason behind them. 

The sheets puddled in your lap, and despite the soft chill covering your skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to cover yourself- your bed no longer brought you the comfort you sought. Yet again, your fiancé had left you to go practice volleyball with his team post-sex despite having agreed to dinner with you. He had kissed you, apologizing as he got ready despite your pleas, but Bokuto Koutaro really only had one love that claimed his heart, and it was always glaringly obvious it wasn’t you. 

You could beg him all you wanted, but at the end of the day, he would choose his sport over you. It didn't always bother you. In fact, you had encouraged it for the longest time, even as he skipped out on dates or outings for practice. However, leaving you for the others had long since grown old, especially when you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and be held. 

He always would promise to make it up to you, showering you in gifts and lavish trips and soft words, but it didn’t change the fact he really only seemed to be at ease on the court and between your legs. 

Still, there was one person you knew you could always turn to. As long as you have known Bokuto, Akaashi Keiji has known him longer. The former setter had always dealt with Bokuto’s tantrums and emotional mood swings, and he didn’t seem to mind when, even now, you turned to him for help.

You always assumed it was because Akaashi favored Bokuto, the two of the remaining close friends and meeting frequently even though they had graduated and had no actual ties holding them together. After seeing him around for so long, you had also warmed up to him, and now, you also sought him out for comfort, despite the soft whisper of it being inappropriate, which you often forced down. 

Still, you found yourself reaching for your phone and clicking the familiar contact. After a few moments of it ringing, the phone clicked as the other side picked up. 

“Hello?” Akaashi’s voice carried through the phone, and you sniffled pathetically again. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.” God, even your voice sounded pathetic. “Can you come over?” You found yourself whispering before you considered the words.

Akaashi was silent for a moment, and you found yourself wondering if he would agree to the proposition before he spoke. “Sure.” The sound of keys jingling made you swallow, because of course your boyfriend's friend would come over to see you when your boyfriend wouldn’t even stay. “What’s wrong?” 

You rubbed at your eyes again. “It’s Kou again. He is...infuriating, sometimes. We were supposed to have dinner, but someone texted him, and of course he agreed. We’ve been planning this for the last week.” You found yourself babbling, the words spilling before you could stop it even as silent tears rolled down your face in humiliation. 

“Okay, okay. It’s okay, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be there in a few okay? I’ll tell you when I get there.” His words were soothing, and you mumbled an agreement. As he hung up, you forced yourself to wipe your tears once more. 

You looked down at your chest and the splattering of hickeys Bokuto had left on them, and you touched them lightly before your hand fell. You could feel the soreness between your legs, left over from his energetic thrusts, and you didn’t want to think of the mess he had left there either.

Still, Akaashi was on his way, so you forced yourself to stand, moving from the bed and grabbing an old, oversized shirt and a pair of panties from the drawer as you made your way to the bathroom. As you cleaned yourself up, taking care of the new bruises and fluids left from your actions earlier, you didn’t fight the tears or the pit in your stomach.

You tried washing your face, patting cold water on your eyes to remove the puffiness that was there, but eventually, you ignored it, simply wiping it on the shirt. Akaashi had seen you worse than this. 

As if on cue, a knock on your apartment door had you jumping. You walked out, dragging your feet as you went before you opened it without looking. Akaashi stood outside the door, his fist raised if he was about to knock again before you had opened it. 

Upon seeing you, his features softened, and he stepped into your space, pulling you into a hug as you sniffled into his shirt. His hand was gentle on the back of your head, petting your hair lightly as he soothed you, the door shutting behind him. “It’s okay. I promise. It’ll be ok.”

You clung to his words, replaying them in your head in hopes that he was right, because at this point you were ready to leave. You were so sick and tired of Bokuto’s antics and not appreciating you.

As if Akaashi could sense your train of thought, he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “He loves you, a lot.” At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to convince, because Bokuto clearly wasn’t here showing it. “I’m sorry he’s doing this to you.” 

You hum in response, enjoying the contact with Akaashi, but even you realized how wrong it was for you to be seeking comfort in your fiance’s best friend's arms. Which is exactly why you pulled back, and Akaashi reluctantly let you.

“Do you want a drink?” you questioned, and Akaashi smiled so softly, his eyes just as sad as yours were. 

“I know where everything is. Go sit down.” He coaxed gently, and you nodded. 

You could hear him as he rustled through your kitchen, finding your cups and the water you kept chilled in the fridge. When he brought it out to you, you were already sitting on the couch, a blanket drawn up over you as he handed you a cup, which you took, swirling it gently in your hands as Akaashi sat next to you, his body angled towards you as he watched you.

“Drink.” His words were a soft command. You obeyed, lifting the glass to your lips as you sipped it lightly. “Now, tell me, what happened.”

Your words spilled out then, rushing out your mouth as quickly as your tears did as you told him exactly what happened earlier. How he had come home late, barely talked to you before he was ushering you to bed. Then, he had just left after, despite your anger and the fact you had plans together. “It’s like he doesn’t even care about me, Keiji. He just wants me for sex.”

Your final words tumbled out as you finished breaking down, soft sobs shaking your shoulders as you sobbed. Akaashi hummed, taking your cup from you as it threatened to spill as he sat both of your cups down on the coffee table. 

He once again pulled you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest as you cried, and he resumed his head-petting, just as you liked. “It’s okay.” he promised, his words comforting even as he buried his own face into your hair.

He knew he should feel guilty about it, how he was holding you so selfishly and breathing your scent, which would fuel his late night thoughts despite your genuine heartache. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to push you away, and not let you clutch him so desperately and use him either. 

“I’m sorry he’s doing this. He should realize how blessed he is to have you.” Akaashi’s words were whispered into your hair, but you couldn’t help the soft noise of confusion as you pulled back to stare up at him. 

“What do you mean?” You questioned attempting to pull away from his chest, unsure if you liked where this conversation was going, but his grip was tight and prevented you from pulling away from him. 

“I mean, he is being selfish. It’s what he does. You’re amazing, and he should worship you like you deserve.” His words were gentle as his thumb ran over your cheek, wiping off the tear tracks there, and he looked so very sad as you flinched away from it. 

“Keiji, I don’t know-” You started, and he shushed you gently, his finger brushing against your lips. 

“It’s true. I would treat you better. I should have never given into him.” His words were soft, musing, as if he didn’t mean to speak them, and before you could question further he was leaning forward, his face suddenly too close. “Can I?”

You swallowed. “Can you do what, Keiji?” you questioned, and he smiled softly.

“Can I show you how I would treat you if you were mine?” His words were gentle, filling you with a lull of soft security, and before you knew what you were doing, you found yourself nodding even as he was leaning even further forward.

His lips pressed against yours, fitting securely against your lips as you sucked in a sharp breath. He was gentle- much more than Bokuto ever was- his lips moving against yours, and after a moment, you found yourself responding to them in turn.

Hands touching your neck made you jump even as he pressed further into you, holding you securely to his body so you couldn’t escape from him. As your lips parted to object, his tongue brushed against them before sliding into your mouth.

The whimper you let out was eagerly swallowed as he licked into your mouth, pushing his tongue against yours and enticing you to play with him, which you found yourself reluctantly doing. Your tongues molded against one another, slid against one another, before he was pulling away, gasping in breaths of air even as you leaned forward, chasing after him.

His forehead pressed against yours, his fingers tightening on your neck, feeling the drumming of your pulse against his hand. “Please,” his whisper was low, deep, and needy, and you found yourself leaning forward into it.

“Please what, Keiji?” you questioned, and he let out a soft whine in response, a noise that made your thighs clench together and all reason fly out of your head. 

“Please….” he hesitated, pondering his next words, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was about to ask. “Please let me touch you. Touch you properly.”

You swallowed again, and for a moment, your eyes met his, and the thought of what you were about to do crossed your mind, but rather than focus on it, you pushed it from your thoughts. You couldn’t mull over it, not yet. “Okay.”  

The word was all the permission he needed, a sharp whimper escaping his lips as he pushed back into you. His other hand attached to your hip, sliding first up over your shirt before he was dipping down, and pushing at the shirt. 

As his skin connected with yours, you let out a sharp hiss, which he eagerly caught, his tongue pressing against your lips yet again as you opened for him. As his hands traced up your body, his hands connecting with your breast, he tensed, as if he realized what he was doing also.

He pulled back ever so gently, his eyes searching yours as his lips parted, but any words he was about to say disappeared in his throat just as quickly as you licked your lips. His lips connected with yours once more, desperate, as his hand opted to grope at your breast, squeezing the tender flesh before he pulled back to pinch at the nipple lightly. 

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” His words were whispered into your mouth as you gasped into him, back arching up into his touch as he pulled at the bud. “He’s so stupid.” 

You let out a soft noise at that in objection, but he didn’t give you the chance to speak as he nipped at your lips eagerly instead. After a moment, his head dipped from you, his hands moving down to push at your shirt until he was able to wiggle it up past your breasts. 

The sharp exhale was audible to you as he stared at your chest for a moment before his head dipped to kiss at the valley between them. He pulled back just far enough to shift where his head was before he latched on to your nipple, sucking it gently into his mouth as his tongue pushed over it in excitement. 

His pace was gentle, soothing, and relaxed as he sucks at tender flesh. His teeth grazed the bud just for a moment before he soothed it with his tongue. “You’re so perfect.” The words were whispered into your flesh as he nuzzled at it, his other hand palming softly at your other breast as his eyes flicked up to your face.

As your eyes met, his name fell from your lips in a soft sigh, a mournful sound, and he smiled gently. His lips released your nipple, moving to the other side to suck on it as your hands came to grip his hair. 

He hummed in response as you tugged lightly in the soft curls of his hair that were beginning to form from the length. His lips wrapped around the new bud, sucking it into his mouth as you whimpered his name out again. 

“Keiji, please.” The words were whispered, but his ears caught it anyways, so very attentive on your body’s response to his actions. His mouth released from your chest as he turned to look up at you, and there was no mistaking the dark glint in his eye from anything other than lust for you.

He pressed another kiss to your skin. “What is it, darling?” his words were gentle, covering you in comfort as his hands rubbed tenderly into your skin. Yet as your lips fell open, no words came out. You didn’t know what to ask him for.

The idea of what you were doing was finally beginning to set in, a warm bubbly feeling masking the terror of being caught later on. Yet at the end, it wasn’t you who spoke.

“Can I take you to bed?” His words were sweet, much nicer than the given implications of what would occur if you said yes. He was taking charge of the situation and guiding you to comfort like he always did. 

Your hands moved on their own to cup his face, pulling him up into yours as you lent forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, your foreheads pressing together gently as you held him to your body. The hum he let out filled you with warmth, your toes curling in an excitement you hadn’t felt in a while as he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose.

“Yes,” the word fell from your lips without much thought. The idea of telling him no, pushing him away from you, left you with even more anxiety than holding him did. 

“Come, little one.” His instructions had you moving even before he pulled away, clutching to his body as he helped you to your feet and ushered you in front of him towards the bedroom. As you crossed the threshold of the room, you swallowed, feet pausing as you gazed at your bed, which was still tousled from earlier. 

Sensing your hesitation, Akaashi’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his hand coming up to force you to stare up into his eyes. “If you don’t want to, we can stop.” He assured, pressing his face gently against yours once more, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips as you pressed further into his. 

“No. I want to.”

You knew he was giving you an out, promising to stop at any point should you want it, but it didn’t change the fact of how desperately you craved wanting to be wanted. So you angeled your head up, kissing first his jawline and moving to the corner of his lips. 

“Please, Keiji,” you whispered, and this time you both knew exactly what you were asking for, and who was Akaashi to deny either of you?

His hands moved, shifting to spin you around to face him further as his hands came up to tangle roughly in your hair, and his other hand slotted against your hips as he carefully walked you backwards until your knees hit the bed.  

Before you could collapse onto it, his hands were moving to push at your shirt once more, removing his lips from yours just long enough to tug your shirt over your arms and head before he was throwing it to the floor and pressing back further into you relishing how your body felt flush against him.

He could feel your nipples pressed against his body, even through the skin as you whimpered in frustration. Your hands reached out, tugging at his shirt, and he laughed lightly against your lips as he pulled back. His hands fumbled with his shirt for a moment, undoing the buttons by his head, before he was tugging his own shirt off and discarding it. 

As his body pressed against yours, with only bottoms separating the two of you, he let out a sharp sigh into your lips. Your hands smoothed over his skin, running over muscles and skin you had never experienced before. 

Yet, just as quickly as he started the kiss, he pulled away. His hands nudged your hips further back on the bed as his head dipped down to kiss at your neck. You hummed in response, fingers lazily running over his back as you rolled your hips up into him.

“Easy,” he breathed out into your skin, moving to kiss at your collarbone, and then back down your chest. “I want to take my time, show you properly how much you mean to me. Is that okay?” 

You nodded, licking at your lips as you watched him move further down your body, stopping only to kiss at spots randomly, just to hear and feel the responses you gave to him. When he reached the band of your panties, he hesitated, pressing a kiss right against the line. His eyes flicked up at you as his fingers ran over the band carefully.

“Are you sure?” His words were gentle, but clouded with desire. You let out an annoyed whimper, tired of his hesitation.

“Keiji, please.” You found yourself repeating even as he frowned, pulling back slightly, and you lifted your hips to chase after it as his hands pushed down, effectively holding you in place.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

You let out a whine, licking at your lips as you reached out for him. “Yes, I’m sure. I want you, Keiji.” 

Akaashi hums then, a delighted glint showing in his eyes as he mulls over your words in his head. “You sound so beautiful when you say that.”

His hands tugged at the band of your underwear, pulling it down your legs, and you feel your legs closing at his intense scrutiny, suddenly shy.

“Shhh,” he soothed, his thumb running over your mons. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He promised, and you let out a soft whimper in response to his words.  

His hands nudged your legs open as he pushes his way in between them. His eyes were level with your cunt, and you couldn’t help the warm flush that spread up your body as you covered your face with your hands shyly, and his fingers gently pushed open your lips to stare at your core. 

“Perfect.” he repeated, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of your slit before you could object. Just as quickly, his tongue slid out, licking up your slit as you let out a sharp gasp of his name. 

Before you could try and wiggle away, his hands connected with your hips, grabbing them tightly as he held you still, his eyes connecting with yours as he pressed his face into your core. His tongue slid out to lick sloppily at your hole as you feel him push into you.

“Keiji!” His name was slurred, your mind hazy at the stimulation he was giving you. He was so different from how Kotarou usually ate you out. Akaashi was much more neat, his tongue pushing in and out of you repeatedly even as you squirmed underneath his grip, desperate for more. 

Yet, as your eyes flicked down to look at him, his attention was focused solely on you. Blue eyes knocked your breath away as they locked with yours, and you couldn’t help the whine that slid out as you attempted to arch your hips up into his mouth. 

“Please.” 

Akaashi hummed in response, a satisfied noise that had you blushing from the vibrations as his tongue pulled away from your hole, licking up your slit slowly yet again until it flicked over your clit.

The grin that spread across his face was shameless as you jumped, hands flying down to fist in his hair at oversensitivity as you let out a squeal of his name. He repeated the action, enjoying how you flinched and cried at the pleasure as he continued to repeat the assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves smugly. 

“It’s too much.” You whispered, but ever-attentive, he caught it. He let out a hum in response even as you whined at the vibrations, but rather than back off, his lips wrapped around the bud as he sucked harshly on it.

Your back arched up off the bed as your fingers tightened in his hair. “Fuck, Keiji!” you cried out, hips jerking under his hands as they pushed you down. Even as your eyes squeezed shut, you could feel his eyes on you, watching your face closely as he memorized your movements, ingraining them into his mind, and he held your hips flush to his face even as you squirmed against his grip.

As the ball in your stomach exploded. His name was all that fell from your lips in a chant as you came around him. His fingers worked you steadily through your orgasm, your body trembling around him as you crashed down. As his movements caught up with your body, you let out a cry, pushing at his head desperately as you attempted to push him away. 

“‘s too much!” You repeated, words slurred and heavy in your mouth as your body jerked with overstimulation.

The man finally gave in, pulling away to kiss his way up your body as you grabbed at his face, kissing him eagerly as you pushed at his remaining clothes. 

“Please?” The word was asked against his lips, barely audible as you gasped into his mouth. He nodded in response, his lips never leaving yours as his hands fumbled with his boxers, pushing them down his legs.

As you reached down, wrapping a fist blindly around his cock, his hips canted forward, a sharp groan escaping his lips against yours as you curiously stroked it. He was heavy in your hand, solid and warm. You could feel the precum leaking down from his tip, wetting your hand as you ran a thumb curiously over it.

As you tried to pull away, his hands caught you, holding you against him even as you let a soft squeak in protest, wanting to taste him in your mouth as well. “It’s fine,” he breathed out against your lips as if he could hear your thoughts. 

“This is about you.”

His hands nudged you back, pinching at your skin playfully as you wiggled backwards further up the bed. He stopped you, pushing you flat back onto the bed so he could loom over you.

He pulled back, panting heavily against your lips as his eyes scanned your face once more, and you couldn’t help but acknowledge just how pretty he was, the light illuminating his head behind a shadow of black hair. 

You reached up for him, trying to pull him back down against you, but he gently knocked your hand away as he looked down at you, eyes soft. 

“I don’t have a condom.” He sounded apologetic, unsure of his words, as he examined you and your reaction to his statement. 

You hummed in response, gently rubbing a thumb against his cheekbone as he turned his head into the pressure. 

“It’s okay,” you promised softly. Koutarou never wore a condom with you, prefering to fill you up, which you didn’t mind, but it helped that you were on birth control already. You also trusted Akaashi, and if he said he was safe, you had no reason to doubt him.

“I can pull out?” he offered, voice raising at the end of his words in question as he proposed the solution, and you nodded softly. 

“That’s fine with me.” You approved, and this time it was him who hummed in approval as he shifted upwards close towards your hip. As he pulled back to rub a thumb over his own head, and you felt your mouth dry at just how pretty his cock was. 

He didn’t give you long to look, gently gripping your hip with one hand as he held his cock with the other. He ran the tip of it along your folds, smiling softly as you jumped at the sensation of it bumping into your clit. 

As soon as he deemed it slick enough with your own juices, he angled his hips to push it lightly against your opening. He teased you just for a moment, gently pressing against the hole without pushing into it until you whined out his name. It was a pitiful sound that had him pushing his hips forward and entering you with a soft exhale.

You felt your body tense up around him at the new sensation. He was a bit smaller than Bokuto, not stretching your walls to the same level, but it still left your toes curling at the new sensation of Akaashi inside of you. 

Your sharp whimper filled his ears, your hips arching up into him as he bottomed out within you. You reached up, grabbing at his shoulders as you pulled him into you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling his face into yours as you kissed at him. 

“Fuck,” You breathed. “Can you move please?” 

He hummed in response, nipping at your lip softly. “Yes, of course.”

His hips rolled into you gently, testing your response, and you let out a whine in pleasure as you tugged at his hair. He was slow, testing out your responses as you squirmed underneath him. 

His name fell from your lips as you angeled your hips slightly higher, urging him to speed up. 

“Shhh,” he hushed gently, kissing you as his hands moved to push your hips down. “You have to be patient.” 

You frowned, grabbing at his back as you whimpered in frustration. “I don’t want to be patient, Keiji.”  

He pressed a finger against your lips, leaning forward to kiss you as he pulled his finger away. You let another huff as he shifted, grabbing your hips and jerking them upwards so he could move his hips easier into you.

As he thrusted into you at this new angle, you let out a sharp yelp. Your hands scrambled at his arms as he hit the spongy spot inside your walls. A soft sob escaped your lips as he repeatedly began to hit your g-spot. 

“Please, please, please.” You chanted out, back arching up into him in time with his thrusts. “Just like that.” 

He smirked, leaning forward to cup your face in his hands. “You’re so gorgeous,” he purred, leaning down to kiss you tenderly.

Your tongue ran along his lips, eagerly pushing into his mouth as he opened for you. As your tongues pressed together, Akaashi’s hand slid in between your bodies to rub at your clit. As his fingers connected with your body, you jerked away from him at the sensation. 

He let out an amused noise as he held you steady, pushing his fingers against you as he rubbed at your clit in time with his thrusts, and you jerked in pleasure. 

As your body spasmed around his cock, he tensed as you milked him perfectly. “You’re so perfect, darling- you deserve to be worshipped,” 

His other palm spread across your body, rubbing at your breasts softly as he pinched at your nipple lightly watching as you flinched, squirming under his attention. 

“You should be treated like the goddess you are, and if he won’t do it, I will.” He promised, his thumb increasing in speed on your clit as your muscles spasmed. “I wonder what Bokutou would do if he knew you were with me right now.” he crooned out softly as he watched you cum around him. 

As you grabbed at him, you buried your head into his shoulder, and your cunt spasmed around him. 

“Keiji!” You cried out, clutching at his body desperately.

As his hips pulled back out of you, his hand left you to dip between you two yet again, except this time it was for his own pleasure. His own pleasure crested over him as he stroked himself to completion, painting your stomach white. 

However, as he relaxed into you, the sound of the door creaking open made you both jerk away from one another, and you were left staring into the inscrutable eyes of your fiancé, who took over the scene in front of him with a strange amount of calmness. 

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask me?”

[bullyhunter--69]

"She's so sweet, really."

Pairing: Izuku x fem!reader

Summary: When you and Izuku started dating, you were as happy as could be. He was beyond sweet and caring, and helped you forget about the bad in your life. But after he introduces you to his mother, Inko, and you start to be a more frequent visitor at the Midoriya household, you realize it's starting to take a bigger affect on you than you thought it would. Why can't your mother be like that?

Tw: mentions of family issues/absent family/family death, bottling up emotions and eventually breaking, a stressed Izuku, ends with soft fluff

A/N: This turned out so much longer and more angsty than planned but I'm really proud of it, tell me what you guys think! 🖤 (This is also my first ever angst written so--)

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Today was a beautiful fall day. Colorful leaves fell around you, the sky was tinged with a deep orange, and the soft grass beneath you made your time all the more comfy. You were snuggled next to Izuku beneath a huge tree on campus, who was currently going on and on about his latest quirk findings. The goal you guys originally had set was to review for the upcoming test, but the topic quickly shifted to Izukus day once your fingers intertwined with his and you inquired about it.

"-and so then once I asked Mr. Aizawa about it I found that- Hey.. are you okay (Y/N)?" You really were listening, but had found that you zoned out. Izukus concerned, soft voice brought you back to reality, and a small smile crawled it's way onto your features. "Yeah 'zuku, I'm all good.. I just was thinking about some stuff and was focusing on your voice. It always helps." You ended your reply with a squeeze of his hand, which all together resulted in his face blooming into a shade of deep red.

"Well, uh.. T-thank you, I'm happy to help!" He stuttered out as he felt butterflies all throughout his body. "Oh, also!" Izuku started, turning his body to face you more, holding your hands in his lap with a nervous look in his eyes. "(Y/N), I was wondering.. we've been together for a bit now and I.. I want my mom to meet you."

As soon as the word 'mom' reached your ears, you tensed up. It was always a sensitive topic, even if it wasn't your parental relationships in question. You knew Izuku had noticed, as the hold on your hands got tighter. "I understand if you're scared or nervous but I know She's gonna love you! She already says you're really pretty and smart just basing off what I've shown her.. she really is looking forward to it, and we don't have to stay long if you don't want to." The gentle rub of his thumb on the back of your hand and the puppy dog eyes was enough to soothe your nerves. If Izuku talked so highly of you to her, and if she was anything like him at all, you figured it wouldn't be that bad to meet her. She would be your mother-in-law someday, so you might as well get it out of the way now and not later.

When the day finally came, you were beyond nervous. The thought of meeting Izuku's mother and her not liking you made a wave of sickness and dread fill every inch of your body. Whether it was a friend, or a boyfriend, meeting mothers always gave you a bad taste in your mouth. It brought back all the feelings that you tried desperately to hide away and fight daily.

See, you were almost fully open with Izuku, but there was one thing he didn't know. Your family, to put it bluntly, was shit. Your mother always belittled you for every single little action you ever made and everything about you. Nothing was ever good enough. As a small child, it was always under-the-table, backhanded compliments with passive aggressive undertones, but after the passing of your father, it turned into raw, brutal words. She was never proud, and never actually loved you, she just used your desire to be a good daughter against you. It was cold, hard, manipulative behavior which resulted in you finally refusing to talk to her after you got accepted into U.A. The mental gymnastics you had to go through to hide all of this, especially from Izuku, was taking a toll on you. You never talked of family and never left the dorms, and had an.. unusual amount of luggage stored away in your room. It seemed like you packed your entire life up in a suitcase and ran.

Which is essentially what you did.

As bad as it sounds, you never planned on telling your love any of this. You just needed to forget all of the childhood trauma you were put through and focus on showing your mother she was wrong. Everything she said about your quirk being useless, to you being intolerable and a bad daughter, would be proved wrong. But, the biggest thing you planned to show her? Is that your father would be proud. She always used him against you, and you'd be damned if you wouldn't prove that point the most ridiculous of them all.

A soft knocking on your dorm brought you out of your deep thoughts, and your gaze slid to the door. Your hands shot to your face and you quickly dried your tears. "O-one second, I'm still changing!" You knew in the pit of your gut that it was Izuku coming to pick you up, and your thoughts were confirmed when you heard him on the other side of your locked door. "Alrighty baby, take your time!" God, he sounded so sweet.. this was hell keeping from him, but it kept him from worrying.

The night went on so much better than expected, and it genuinely surprised you. You had never met a woman as sweet as Inko was. She cooked your favorite food and had your favorite drinks, and even baked you your favorite dessert. She asked about how you were doing in school and once the topic of your quirk was brought up, she was beyond ecstatic to hear you talk about it. She even added on how she felt it would be useful in battle. The night was amazing. Nothing felt real, it all was like the fantasies you made up while lying in bed at 4am sobbing, so sleep deprived you almost can't move to get ready for your class that starts in just a few hours. It's what you've always wanted in a mom-- a beautiful, sweet woman who cares.

Why can't your mother be like that?

As the weeks went on and Izuku kept inviting you over for weekly dinner and game nights with him and Inko, you found it harder and harder to conceal exactly how much your mental health was struggling. Yes, you absolutely adored both your loving boyfriend and his equally loving mother, but it was just so fucking.. hard. Every smile she gave you, the loving, motherly twinkle in her eyes when she talked to Izuku, the amazing dinners, the endless support for both of you, the pictures she insisted on taking of you and Izuku-- it was all too much. You started to dwell on this every single night, and resent yourself for how much anger and jealousy you felt. This wasn't right, but you couldn't help it. It wasn't your fault that your mother hated you for every fiber of your being and Izuku had the best mother imaginable. He was your boyfriend, you should be happy.. right?

You didn't realize how hard you had been sobbing until there was a hushed yet firm knock on your dorm door. The tears that blurred your vision made it even harder to read the clock on your nightstand through the pitch black room you sat in, huddle up in a pile of blankets, All Might plushies and Izuku's hoodies.

9:54 p.m.

The pain that was radiating through your torso from the wreck you had become from however long you had actually been crying was torture. It felt like needles were being shoved into your lungs and your heart was being squeezed in a vice grip. Breathing felt impossible. Your throat was raw. But the thing that hurt the absolute worst, out of everything?

"(Y/N)? Baby, please let me in.." Little Izuku's voice sounded like the biggest bomb going off, the jiggle of your door knob making emergency alarms go off in your head. There wasn't any possible way to get out of this, and this might just be your biggest fear. Facing those soft emerald eyes and that sweet smile that has been open and honest with you over the entirety of your entire relationship, and even before. Telling the love of your life all the trauma you've endured, and then willingly decided to hide from him. No.. it's the disappointment that you're positive will shine through his features that's truly your biggest fear.

You don't know how long he had been listening, but one second was more than enough for you to know Izuku wasn't going to leave. He loved you endlessly and never left without making sure you had a smile on your face. So, with limbs that felt like cement, eyes that felt as if you were crying spikes, and an aching heart, you got up and made your way to unlock the door. It took a minute-- your hold on the cold knob firm and extremely hesitant.

3... 2.. 1.

Finally, Izuku had enough room to gently push your door open, and his breath was taken away when he saw you as the golden light from the dormitory hallway illuminated your entirely wrecked appearance.

Bloodshot eyes, make up filled tears streaming down both checks, snot dripping down to you mouth. The cuffs of his hoodie that covered your shaking body were soaked in black, wet mascara. Your hair was messy and tangled. You were.. broken.

After taking in every little detail of your appearance, a struggled gasp last your body when his arms were suddenly around you. The touch of his warmth around you was electrifying, and instantly brought you to your knees. As Izuku shut and locked the door behind him, still holding you in his strong arms, he sighed softly. "What's wrong?"

These are some of the only words that you really didn't want to come out of his mouth. They stung and tore through your heart like the sharpest of blades. They made you regret not opening up sooner, his tone overflowing with worry, fear, and dread. You knew not to make eye contact, but you couldn't even if you wanted to. Once those words entered your ears, soft and delicate as if you would shatter into a million pieces if he spoke too hard, another strangled sob was unleashed out of what felt to be your core.

"S-she's just so sweet.." Your voice, although strained and crackling, came out with an emotion Izuku had never heard from you before. A mixture of jealousy, rage, disappointment, and disgust is all he could pick out, but it sounded like something was hidden beneath it all. Something that you didn't know how to express, so emotions just came seeping out of you in the easiest way.

Picking you up was an easy task, as your body had long ago given up the fight to stay standing. The sweet boy made his way to your bed and sat with you cradled to his chest, your nose tucking away in the crook of his neck instantly to breath in his scent. It calmed you-- he calmed you, but you couldn't help but to shamefully pull your head away and look across the room.

"(Y/N), you have to tell me more. Who is 'she'? I want to help you.." His voice still held a delicate tone, his fingers combing through your hair with one hand and the other still holding you tightly. After what seemed like forever of Izuku just holding you and letting you cry every single ounce of emotion you held in your body out, your sobs slowly came to a stop and you took a soft, shaking sigh.

It was time to come clean.

"'Z-zuku, I'm sorry.." You started, slowly and steadily while trying to steady your breath further. The gentle back rubs from his warm hands helped sooth you, and gave you the strength to continue.

"I haven't been exactly.. truthful with you." As you took a second to find your words and sniffle, you could sense Izuku tilt his head to the side curiously. "You always ask if I'm okay-- if I'm happy-- and I always say that I am. I love you so incredibly much and you do make me feel happy and safe and welcomed and-" Your ramble was cut off with a kiss to your temple, which was a silent signal of Izukus trust and time.

"Because of how incredibly happy you make me, I dont want you thinking that this is your fault at all. Its mine.. I shut you out and bottled myself up when I should have just told you in the first place. I just.. don't know how to say it other than to say it outright."

Your shakey tone made Izukus heart race even more. He was staying calm and supportive on the outside but on the inside, he was a wreck. He was currently going over every single one of his actions, words, and notes that made what you and him were-- absolutely scraping the bottom of the barrel for anything and everything he could have done wrong. That stuff, though, was shoved deep so he could help you, because that was what was important right now.

"I don't.. Izuku, I love you and I love your mother so incredibly much. I feel at home with you guys but it's just so hard. Seeing how sweet and caring she is, how She's invested in both of our lives, how she.. s-she said she loved me.." You body was quickly starting to shake again, so Izuku pulled you in closer. "Why can't my mother be like that?"

There it was. It finally clicked in Izuku's mind. Everytime you avoided the topic of family, how you never had pictures with them, how you never had a place to go to during break, how every day after spending time with him and Inko you seemed drained the next morning as if you had stayed up all night.. it clicked as to what might be wrong, and his suspicions were confirmed when you continued.

"M-my mother hates me and she has my entire life. I have never received an ounce of love or respect from that filthy woman and it's always on my mind. Her degradation and her mocking laugh and her hideous presence. She used my dead fucking dad against me to make me feel like I'd never make it in this world and I just-- I-I want to escape the horrible memories but I can't. I just want a mother like yours.. it's what I've always wanted and I don't understand why I had to be the one stuck with a dead dad and a mockery of a mother. Seeing how absolutely amazing your mom is fills me with love and happiness and a sense of home I've never gotten before but at the end of the day, it just reminds me of how shitty my life was up until I got to U.A. I don't have a mom. I don't have a home. And its not fair that I'm upset over the fact that you having those things happens to remind me of that. I'm sorry."

Izuku was speechless. His comforting ministrations had stopped and he just looked at you. Even with the pitch black void that was your room, his emerald eyes shined bright.. and brimmed with tears.

"I.. I had no idea, baby, I'm so sorry.." Izuku was choosing his words incredibly carefully. He held nothing against you, nor was he upset or disappointed at you. He was a person that could put himself in someone else's shoes very easily and see through their eyes, and your emotional monologue was enough to paint your story for him. He just wanted to comfort you and show you everything was okay.

"I don't want you to be sorry, there isn't any need for you to be. You can't help what your mother put you through, and how horribly unfair to you that it was. Nobody can control how others actions affect them-- it's just how humans are.." Strong arms turned your body to face him, your limbs wrapped around his torso and your cheeks gently held in his hands. As tears streamed down his cheeks, he stared deep into your eyes. "You're so strong and beautiful, and I understand as much as I can. I love you so much.. Baby, to hell with her. I know it's hard, but she doesn't have to mean anything to you anymore. Me and you, and mom, can be our own family. We're your home now.."

A sob managed to choke it's way out of your throat, but this one was different. Your head fell into Izukus neck and you held him as tight as you possibly could, soaking his chest with more snot and tears. His arms held you back just as tightly as he peppered soft butterfly kisses along your hairline. This is how you stayed for the rest of the night until you calmed down and passed out on his firm build. Laying back softly, Izuku tucked you both in and kept his tight hold on you.

"Goodnight, love.. You're home."

[robinsnest2111]

The band comforting their bassist in a vulnerable moment? It's more likely than you think!

I expanded on a random vision I had, enjoy these 1k words of the scenario from Murderface's POV :P

Warning for:

Lots of swearing and self deprecating language, because Murderface. Not beta'd, so there may be mistakes.

It had been building up within him for some time now. Every little thing just added onto the pile of all the shit that happened to him. Deep down, subconsciously, he knew that it was only a matter of time before something would set him off again. Would make all the bottled up emotions break free again. But hell, if he could tell before it got to that point. It only ever occurred to him afterwards, making him hate himself even more for exploding. A vicious cycle, really.

Right now, though? He was in the process of losing it. Some remark or other must've done it; didn't really matter. But instead of the usual anger resulting in a quick outburst, he felt flooded with frustration and... sadness? 

He could feel the tears slowly clouding his vision, felt his throat constrict, the pit in his stomach. 

Huh, that was new. It took a bit for the panic to set in. This was new, this had never happened to him before? Crying in front of the others? No, no way! That would make him a weak and pathetic loser! He had to keep it together long enough to come up with an excuse to leave and leg it out of there to repress all of this in peace. Didn't matter if he cried if no one was around to see it!

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Pickles talking to him at first. He was... asking him a question? 

"Dood. Why are ya so quiet? Something wrong?" Oh shit.

At least one person was catching onto him not acting his usual self. Fuck. This was bad. Quick! Think of something, you dumbass! Say something! Do something! Anything!!!

Apparently, the only thing his body was capable of at the moment was betraying him. By making him look up in Pickles' direction and fucking whimpering instead of talking! Way to go asshole. Fuck!

"...Murderface, what the- are you… crying?" The expression on his bandmate's face turned from confusion to ...concern? That couldn't be, it was just a matter of seconds before he would make fun of him for being such a sensitive crybaby, the others probably gearing up to join in on the usual bullying.

Once again too caught up in his own mind, he didn't notice Pickles reaching for his hands until they were carefully held in the drummer's. A quiet "Hey" made him look up, Pickles' face a little closer than before, the concern and care now unmistakable. 

This was it, the last straw. The tears were flowing, as was the snot, and he let out a pathetic and pained wail. It was all so strange and too much, too much, TOO MUCH!

His hands were maneuvered into one of Pickles' while he reached out to cradle his face with the other. "Dood..."

Between his loud sobs, he noticed the absence of any kind of comment from the others. Usually he would have some choice words for them and promptly leave, the sound of his bandmates joking and laughing about his reaction drifting out of the room after him.

Not this time though. He was still there. Everything was quiet apart from the embarrassing amount of crying and wailing he was doing. Fuck!

Pickles was stroking his cheek now. Weird, but strangely soothing? What kinda magic trick was that?! Then he felt a big warm hand settle on his trembling shoulder. Could it be? No, Nathan would never! A quick glance revealed that it was indeed the singer's hand trying to give a reassuring squeeze, black nail polish and all. What the hell was going on and why the fuck couldn't he stop crying?

Eventually, he felt the hand on his cheek guide his face to rest on the drummer's shoulder. He was probably ruining Pickles' shirt with his leaking eyes and nose. How disgusting. Nathan's hand wandered to his back, going for gentle rubs which helped the ache due to the unrelenting sobs jostling his body, messing up his breathing. In the time it took for Pickles to wrap his arms around his trembling body and him to mirror the drummer, clinging to him for dear life, he felt another hand settle on his head. It's owner seemed hesitant at first, long slender fingers then burying themselves in his hair. Short well-kept nails giving him light pats and scritches. Skwisgaar. Shit, what was happening?

Only one other person missing now. Ah, there he was. Toki. Through the haze, he felt the last of his bandmates press up to his side, putting his head on his shaking shoulder, nuzzling his face into his neck. He could feel the Scandinavian's long hair settling over part of his back, slowly warming up the covered area. Damn, Toki was a furnace! He had never noticed before. And what was that? A low rumble. Was he... was Toki having a go at purring? What a nerd. It seemed to work though. On top of all of them basically forming a brutally awkward cuddle pile around him, it was indeed helping to calm him down. Slowing his racing heart, soothing the ache and evening out his breathing.

After a while, the tears stopped. He had finally calmed down. His head felt empty and full at the same time. Void of any volatile, explosive emotion while feeling like it was stuffed with a million dirty dish towels. Probably from crying so hard. Urgh, what a mental image. Then he realised that he was still surrounded by the others and that they all would have to let go eventually. His bandmates witnessed his embarrassing display of weakness and would never let him live it down! Fuck! He cringed and slowly one after the other gave him some space, removing their hands from his body. 

"Well uhh... that was-" "Now dats dat ams overs-" 

"Guysch, I-" 

Before anyone could finish their sentence, Pickles took hold of one of his hands once again, apparently the only one not quite as embarrassed by the entire situation.

"You okey now?"

He took a moment to think. Was he? He still felt strange for wailing and sobbing like a damn baby. But, he did feel... lighter somehow. Relieved? At least for the time being. He cleared his throat, gingerly wiping the tears from his cheeks and the snot from under his nose, cleaning it all off on his shorts.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think scho."

It actually felt kind of nice to have some tangible proof the others cared about him in some way, despite their official No Caring Rule. He would never admit that to anyone though, he wasn't weak like that.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Taking it Natural

Well I can never fully stick to an outline lmao. But, I did manage a lil fic involving just some simple stuff between Cormag and Artur.

Kink stuff is more on the lesser end, cause I wanted to focus a bit more on dialogue and also wanted to write something on the smaller scale of sizes. Also was just fun to write a shorter, simpler story and also one not set in Askr which I need to do more lol

"I am perfectly fine doing the dishes," Artur lightly hums to himself. He scrubs away at the bits and remnants of the day's finished meal. A few pots and pans already on the drying rack alongside the ladles, said dishes preemptively cleaned before dinner had even been eaten, he washes the clutter of used dinnerware. His back facing Cormag, his partner currently sits at the couch.

"I'll go check on Genarog then," His voice comes out strained. Completely leaning against the couch, Cormag's stomach continues its prolonged harassment towards its owner. His stomach is a cacophony of churning and gurgling noises, the overworked, stuffed gut letting it's discomfort be known. Despite his declaration of performing a chore, he simply remains seated with his head leaning back. His lips are parted as he languidly recovers enough energy to catch his breath.

"I already fed him and made sure he's comfortable in his stable," Arthur places a plate on the drying rack beside the just washed cutlery and glassware. His still soapy hands reach for the next plate to scrub at.

"Ah," Cormag's strenuous breathing remains the same. He keeps his eyes closed as a way to block out any possible external  discomfort besides his tumultuous tummy. "Then I'll…" Cormag trails off with a groan. A few extra pants and wheezes come out as his gut seems to give him an extra angry complaint. "Then I'll-"

"You can wait on the couch. I am fine, Cormag," The last plate cleaned and set aside to dry, he dries his hands on a dish towel, the damp cloth adorned with miniature wyverns. Turning around, he smiles as he gets an eyeful of Cormag's sorry stuffed state.

Cormag retiring from being a soldier, he had instead taken up woodworking once he and Artur decided to live together. His new line of work requiring a different, less intensive set of skills, the sudden change of constant routines and fighting to meticulous, long periods of time sitting while carving was a sudden change for his metabolism and appetite. The lack of much activity affecting his physique was only compounded by Artur's task of taking care of the house's chores. Cormag had already been aware of Artur's proficiency in the culinary arts through their occasional picnics back when the two had first begun a relationship, yet the latter's constant practice through cooking everyday left his prowess in the kitchen to something to truly be proud of. Cormag having a generous fill of food every meal of the day, his indulgence of Artur's cooking hadn't moved quite past an extra helping or two every go around. Although, even those generous extra helpings helped plump and widen his waistline to a body type rather past stocky and into fat guy territory.

Clothes upsized just as his body upsized, his maroon t-shirt does a sufficient job in covering Cormag’s sun kissed skin. His compact yet soft pile of squishy fat for a stomach curves outwards as it ever so gently slots itself on top of his doughy thighs. Pressed up against his shirt, the malleable tummy barely covers any of Cormag’s lap, enough space for Artur to be comfortably seated atop him still. The two fleshy legs seem even wider as he sits, the bunched up fat splaying a slightly extra amount from resting on the couch. Cormag’s pants do their best in perfectly covering the two, the waistband even widened as well to not uncomfortably squish against Cormag’s hips. The center of his gut juts out more than his squeezable love handles, Cormag’s rotundness more pronounced. The stuffed mass seems to taunt Artur, his eyes finding themselves often drifting back towards the perfectly rubbably surface. Cormag’s sizable chest makes itself comfortable on top of his stomach, the handful of breasts splaying a bit to the side from the accumulation of fat. His pronounced chest only helps make Cormag seem extra wide, Artur always feeling rather twiggish next to his plump teddy bear of a husband. Though the lightly tanned moobs are offered enough room from Cormag’s spacious shirt to not be so confined and pressed up against the fabric. Cormag’s biceps are no more, the somewhat, albeit nicely, defined biceps coated in a plush, warm layer of fat. The plump appendaged perfect for a nice, crushing yet comforting hug, Cormag’s arms had always been a secret favorite of Artur’s. Cormag rests his arms on the cushiony back pillows, the bottom heft of his arms squishing ever so slightly against the surface. His face at the very center of his arm span, Artur can only see the fleshy double chin connected to Cormag’s lovably wonderful kissable face. Though he can very much hear his love’s taxed breathing even over the angered grumbling coming from his gut.

“Oh, Artur,” Cormag’s arms wobble for a few moments; the two doughy appendages struggle as he tries to push himself up despite his body’s protests. “Give me, hah, a minute,” His rotund body expands with each great, deep breath he takes.

“No worries,” Artur sits himself beside Cormag. His lap calling to him, he’d feel like a monster causing him anymore discomfort. “I’ll wait beside you,” Artur pats Cormag’s thigh.

“Heh,” Cormag lets out a small chuckle, the only response he can give before he has to take a few more breaths to help relieve the heavy pit of pain resting in his gut. “I really ate like a pig,”

The faint warm onset of a blush on Artur’s face blossoms on his face, the healer always getting a tinge of embarrassment whenever Cormag even offhandedly mentions his size or eating habits. “Perhaps. But, I should learn to stop cooking so much. I just think of something nice for us to share and so I kinda just make it,” Artur tosses a noncommittal shrug at the end, a few awkward laughs thrown in as well as if he hadn’t confessed his unique admiration in the way Cormag’s body plumped out. A few extra pounds looking rather dashing on his tall figure which would only look more handsome if those few extra pounds swelled into a dozen or perhaps even a hundred before Cormag was resting at a sizable 300 pounder of a man.

“Maybe. Guess we both should learn some restraint,”

“Perhaps,,,” Artur nearly reaches for Cormag’s aching gut to soothe the beast before thinking better of it. “I have a salve that should help,” Without waiting for any confirmation, Artur goes to the closet full of his supplies. Herbs able to help cure maladies unlike staves, he rummages through the several jars and boxes he has. Though only Artur would consider his neat, organized setup a mess requiring rummaging, Lute always interested in his tidy organizational skill. Having fetched the ointment, he stands in front of the seated Cormag. “This has to go directly on your skin,” He tosses the lower hem of Cormag’s shirt up. Applying a dollop of the ointment on his hands, he wastes no time in getting them all over Cormag’s stomach.

“You’ve never needed an excuse to do this stuff before,” The salve immediately begins to work its magic on Cormag. His labored breathing slowly begins to take on a more natural pace and the evident discomfort on his face washes away. “You sure do know your way around there,” Cormag even shifts around on the couch, his stomach no longer threatening to self-destruct from the slightest jostle.

Artur drops his head in mirthful laughter, Cormag’s surprising silly teasing always getting to him. “I have rubbed your stomach how many times, Cormag?” His hands drift on over to Cormag’s love handles. Standing above Cormag, he grabs on to the chunky handles as he leans down for a kiss.

“Not enough, knowing you,” Cormag whispers as they part.

“Then you truly do know me,” Artur retorts. Cormag’s stomach is no longer a ticking time bomb, so he figures it’d be fine to sit in his favorite spot. He gently lowers himself down onto Cormag’s lap. His soft squishy, tummy rests comfortably against his back.

“If you had this kind of stuff laying around, why use it only now?”

“Well- I,,,” Artur considers his next words for a moment. “I felt bad with how much I stuffed you tonight. I may have gone overboard so-”

Cormag promptly cuts him off with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t force me to do anything. You’re cooking is great. I tell all my clients about your cooking. They kept hounding me about your recipe for those cookies you always make to butter them up,”

“Ah,” Artur turns bright red as he recalls the high praises from all of Cormag’s clients, a few even inadvertently referring to Cormag’s weight upon said praises. “Well, I also didn’t use this because I didn’t want you to feel like I only cared about stuffing you and getting you fatter,”

“I’m gonna have to get up for this one,” Rising up, Cormag makes sure to help Artur up first. “Look at me,” He grabs Artur’s shoulders. Artur shorter by a few inches, he feels miniscule right now. “If I ever have any problems with my weight, you are going to be the first person I tell. We’ve known each other for years before I started gaining weight,” Cormag brings Artur to him, wrapping him in a bear hug. Artur’s arms are ensnared by Cormag’s own doughy arms. Though he knows his arms wouldn’t be able to wrap around him regardless. His feet rise off a few inches from the ground as Cormag holds on to him. Cormag begins to chuckle, his heart always aflutter with Artur in his arms. The ring of laughter catches onto Artur, the two laughing together. They remain like so for a few minutes, neither speaking.

Eventually, Cormag lets Arthur back down. A hefty sigh escapes his lips from the minimal amount of activity. “And if you ever have any problems with my weight, then let me know,” Cormag holds onto Artur’s hands, rubbing the palm of them with his thumb.

“Of course. But I don’t think I could ever have a problem having such a handsome husband.”

“Unfortunately for you, my husband is more handsome than yours,” Artur snorts from Cormag’s reply. His hands find their way to Cormag’s arm for a light slap.

“I guess you win then. But, thank you. Neither of us have done this, so I wanted to make sure we’re going at a natural pace for the both of us,”

“Taking it nice and slow is my preference. Enjoying the travel is just as important as the destination or however you say it,” An idea sparking in his brain, Cormag devilishly grins, his plump cheeks dimpling. “Let’s enjoy the scenic route some more,” Cormag leans slightly down. He gently whispers in Artur’s ears before resting his lips on his partner’s.

Artur grinning, he merely murmurs in hushed agreement as Cormag kisses him, the crackle of joy feeling just as natural as their first kiss, the two ready to indeed enjoy Cormag’s current size and take things naturally, wherever it might lead.

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

PLEADING FOR MERCY

(PLEASE DON’T REBLOG!)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Iroh, Azula, Katara, Aang, Sokka (mentioned), Toph (mentioned)

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part two of “destiny is a funny thing”

A/N: Since I’ve been asked for a next part to my last Zuko fic, here it is. (tho further requests only per inbox please haha)

“(Y/N)?” You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, lightly shaking you awake. “(Y/N)!” A groan passed your lips, feeling every limb ache. “You have to wake up, we need to get out of here!”

The sudden sound of water irritated you, but one second later relief flowed through your body. The pain disappeared. Slowly you blinked your eyes open, seeing a slightly blurred version of your friend. She looked no different than the last time you’d seen her. Her braid was a bit more tousled than usual, but her ocean-blue orbs were like the calm after a storm. “Katara?” You slurred, stumbling slightly when she helped you up, but her healing powers were quick to work. She drew you into a hug, as soon as you’d gained full balance. Immediately the smell of salt and sea overcame your senses. Something you constantly associated with her. “I’m so glad you’re back. We were so worried,” She pulled away slightly, analyzing your face. “What happened?” Her voice was soothing. It felt good. Knowing that they had, indeed, thought about you. “I was-”

The tunnel above you began to rumble. You took a hold of Katara’s hand, spotting one of the earth benders against the bright sunlight. “You’ve got company,” Another one sneered, pushing their next victim down into the Crystal Catacombs. “Gaah!” He screamed as he tumbled downwards, landing on his stomach directly in front of you. It took you a second to recognize it was Lee. “Zuko!” Katara said, surprised, before her face disorted with anger. You calling out “Lee!” at the same time didn’t help the situation. His eyes widened when he saw you, but the shock was gone in a flash. You’d wanted to help him up, but upon stepping closer he turned his back on you, still sitting on the floor. Your smile disappeared. “Don’t get close to him, (Y/N). He’s dangerous,” The water bender murmured, grabbing your upper arm to hold you back.

This wasn’t a happy reunion. Instead it was all a big puddle of confusion.

Katara hadn’t even registered you calling him by the wrong name, too caught up in her rage. “Why did they throw you in here?” She asked, only to answer herself a second later. “Oh, wait. Let me guess. It’s a trap. So that when Aang shows up to help us you can finally have him in your little Fire Nation clutches!” He briefly looked over his shoulder, but stayed silent. “Katara, what are you talking about?” You asked, bewildered. “This is him, (Y/N)! This is Prince Zuko, who hunted us down countless times to capture Aang!”

You swallowed dryly. Was this supposed to be some kind of bad joke? His feelings for you. The stories you’d shared. The caring touches when he’d changed your bandages. All a lie?

Of course you hadn’t been truthful yourself, at first. And you didn’t blame him for being precautios. But you’d told him in time, when things got more serious. Didn’t you deserve the same?

Weeks were wasted with a prince, who’d hunted your friends for ages.

Now you blankly stared at the back of his head. His shoulders seemed more slumped than before, but he didn’t deny the accusations that Katara had thrown at him. Your love was lost. Lost to someone who’d probably never been honest with you. Not once. Deep regret formed in the pit of your stomach. You felt sick. Speechless.

“You’re a terrible person, you know that?” Your friend remained unimpressed by his Royal heritage, continuing to yell at him. “Always following us! Hunting the Avatar! Trying to capture the world’s last hope for peace!” She growled, pacing around like a panther in it’s cage. “But what do you care, Fire Lord’s son? Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood!” Katara spat, which eventually gained her the response she was waiting for. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” She whirled around. “I don’t? How dare you? You have no idea what this war has put me through. Me, personally!” She turned and sunk to the floor. “The Fire Nation took my mother away from me,”

You choose to interrupt, standing between both sides uncomfortably. “Maybe we should calm down...” You didn’t know how to explain that you’d spend the past weeks with the enemy. Surrounded by rocks and crystals there wasn’t much room for you to comfort her, but you choose to help her calm down before you’d attempt to talk to... Zuko. It was hard not to think of him as the ‘Lee’ you’d met him as. Wrapping your arms around her, you swayed her softly, trying to soothe her outrage. Something scraped over the stone behind you. The prince must’ve shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry about your mother. That’s something we have in common,” You pulled Katara up to stand next to you, gently wiping the tears from her face. When you lifted your gaze, Zuko stood directly in front of you.

You didn’t know what to think. Couldn’t even look at him. So you kept your eyes focused on the crystals around you. “(Y/N)...” He mumbled, but you shook your head. No more lies. You couldn’t take it anymore. “No,” Tears stinged in your eyes, but you refused to let them go. A throbbing headache soon formed, from your tightly clenched jaw. Katara looked between the two of you, sensing a new kind of tension. “But-”

“No!” You said with more force, glaring at his face. It was the first time that his eyes met yours, since you were down here. “You lied to me,” your voice wasn’t as strong as usual, shaking with emotion. “All this time was just a big lie!” You could see the big questionmark on your friends face, but you couldn’t bare to tell her what a stupid mistake you’d made. “It wasn’t! Yes i did lie about my identity, but i didn’t lie about anything else! Besides you never told me you were with the Avatar!” This was unbelievable. “Why would i? I didn’t think it would matter to our-” The walls shook around you. A part of it exploded, making stones and crystals fly everywhere. The three of you covered your faces, coughing from the whirled up dust. To your relief it revealed Aang and Iroh behind it.

“Aang!” Katara exclaimed, running up to him and embracing the Avatar in a tight hug. The man you’d formerly known as “Mushi” did the same to Zuko, while you stood in the middle. Silent. Unmoving. “Aang, i knew you would come. I found (Y/N) down here!” The water bender said. He smiled as you walked up to him and shared a hug with both. “It’s good to see you. We tried searching the city, but we couldn’t find you. Then i had a vision about Katara and you being in danger... What happened? Did they hurt you?”

You detatched yourself with a sigh. “It’s a long story,” He nodded, letting you off the hook for now. “Uncle, i don’t understand, what are you doing with the Avatar?” Zuko growled from behind you. “Saving you, that’s what,” Aang replied, still clinging to Katara. “Ugh!” The prince made a step forward, but the general held him back. “Prince Zuko, it’s time we talked. Go help your other friends!” he said to the Avatar. “We’ll catch up with you,” Aang didn’t waste any more time. He bowed to Iroh with a thankfull grin, before disappearing into the tunnel. Katara followed him without hesitation.

“(Y/N)?” At first you wanted to ignore the man. But you owed your life to him. He’d been the one to take you in, nursed you back to health, and now he seemed to help you once again. So you stopped for a second to look back at him. “I’m sorry we had to lie to you. But for what it’s worth, i’m glad to see you alive and well. I hope you can forgive us one day,” He mildly spoke, without force. You acknowledged his words with a brief nod, not sparing a glance for his nephew. Then you moved to follow the others.

The three of you took off, running deeper into the Catacombs. “We’ve got to find Sokka and Toph,” Katara called out. Suddenly a hiss rang out behind you, a wave of heat following the sound. You turned around just in time for Aang to block Azulas attack, barely escaping her flames. You’d never seen her before. Tough the resemblance to Zuko was undeniable. Knowing who he was helped to connect the dots between them more quickly. They had the same shade of umber hair. Shared some particular facial features. And nearly the same intruiging eyeshade. Just almost. You’d never known golden eyes could be so cold.

Producing a large wave Katara ran up to her, letting the water come crashing down. The princess deflected the attack with an offense of her own, transforming it all into hot mist, clouding the room. It didn’t take long for her to attack again. You redirected the fire balls with some of your own, staying in the defensive. “I see you’ve added a firebender to your little group,” She mocked, landing on a stone pillar. “How does it feel being a traitor to your own Nation?” You ignored her bribes, watching her every move.

The rock crumbled under her feet at Aangs next command. She had to jump, meeting the three of you on even ground. Minutes of deafening silence passed. No one dared to make a move.

A deep red flame interrupted the tension, landing right in the middle of the ring. Zuko had joined the field. And he was ready to fight. The question was: Which side would he choose?

You had no idea. You’d thought you knew him before. But now he was unpredictable. The boy you loved never existed in the first place. And yet you still tried to catch his eyes with yours, pleading for mercy.

He didn’t even look in your direction. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to fullfill his destiny. Wouldn’t be able to go home.

His burning hot flame shot directly at Aang.

Azula responded accordingly, sending her fire in Katara’s direction. The blue flames clashed with her water and the air sizzled, as a relentless fight erupted in the hall of the Catacombs.

In mere seconds pure chaos ensued. You tried defending Aang from the prince as best as you could, both of you working together. But as he bend a large rock to knock Zuko back, you found yourself at the ground as well. You landed on your back, directly on the wound the prince had treated. A sharp pain travelled up your spine.

Katara had Azula at her mercy, who was quickly freed by her brother while you and Aang got back to your feet. “I thought you’d changed!” Your friend yelled at him, using her water as an extension of her arms. He did the same with his flames. “I have changed,” He striked with all his might. It was a painful sight to look at. Her braid didn’t exist no longer, hair flying freely from the blow. She was knocked into a pair of green crystals, stained red around the edges one moment later.

“You’re right,” you mumbled, coming up behind him. “You really have,” For a moment his stance faltered. Nevertheless he faced his opponent. Neither of you made a move for a long time. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Azula hunting after Aang. She got the best of him as she pushed him back into the crystal wall. “Aang!” you screamed, rushing forward. Zuko stepped in your way, now producing flames, to hold you off. A rush of energy went through you, calling out to the fire within. It formed in your palms, pulsating and strong. They collided with his. Smoke rose around you, fighting tooth and nail.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Only rage. Pure and powerful anger. You shoved him back repeadiately, the despair fueling your fire. In a moment of carelessnes he managed to grab your wrists, pressing your back against the wall. The troubles of your injury caught up on you, weakening you faster than normal. You were no fool. It wasn’t a secret that he was a better fighter than you. Zuko was holding back.

Your heart clenched in your chest. This time you couldn’t hold it in. Tears spilled on your cheeks. “Please,” you gasped desperatly. You’d tried to concentrate on your hatred towards him. You really did. But your heart played a different game. “I don’t want to fight you,”

Doubts crossed his mind. It showed on his face and a tiny piece of hope flared in your chest. “You can still choose differently,” you whispered. Right now he was closer to you, than he had been in days. Once again you discovered all those tiny details in his face, that you’d loved so much. For a second you saw Lee. But before you was standing Zuko. His thumb catched one of your tears, gently wiping it from your cheek. And then he left. You weren’t worth his alliance. Weren’t even worth a fight. He left you sinking to the ground, the taste of ashes in your mouth.

All it took was one look upon the battlefield to know you’d lost. Aang’s next attack didn’t even reach the fire benders. Surrounded by Azula, Zuko and a number of Dai Lee agents, you had no chance. Katara had gotten back up, drawing a circle of water-tentacles around her. But you knew it would be of no use. There were too many. You got up despite the defeat, refusing to lose sitting down. Distanly you registered Aang producing a tent of crystals around his body to protect himself. You wondered how long it would take, before Azula burst through it. You positioned yourself in front of it regardless.

The princess smirked at you, raising her hands. Like a cat watching it’s prey.

Then the makeshift tent began to glow. From the inside. Aang floated in the air, his marks and eyes glowing brightly. He’d made it. He’d reached the Avatar-State. Everyone watched, entranced by the sight. Until a blaze of lightning striked. His body convulsed under the pressure of it’s power. And then the Avatar fell.

All you could do, was watch.

You were by his side before anybody else, still protecting his lifeless body with a circle of flames around you. Katara produced a large wave, reaching you just in time before the siblings. And to your luck, she wasn’t the only one who did.

Someone burst through the wall near the exit. “You’ve got to get out of here. I’ll hold them off as long as i can!” Iroh screamed, sending flames in every possible direction to create an opening. You took it. Carrying Aang, you and Katara ran for your lives. The waterfall of the Catacombs was your loophole, and you managed to get through, thanks to your friend producing a pillar of water.

Your eyes remained on the prince, until you were no longer able to see him.

find part three here!

tagging u beautiful ppl: @zvkonation​ @viva-la-millennia​ @randomness501​ @drheinzd​ @kaylove12​

[thalys-artcorner]

A Cause to be Bothered By.

A oneshot in which Homelander actually gived a damn with the charity event assigned.  Canon divergent that allowed to write...wait for...actual fluff. Bet you didn’t see that coming.

*Note: I don’t wanna say @kayemagistro​ made me do it, but she did provide the initiative xD Based on this post.

She wasn’t sure how much of a good idea it might be to bring Homelander along, but the powers from above had insisted, and there was only so many strings she could pull before they put her back in her place. It was a miracle already that she had managed to pick her own charity work.

But having Homelander with her? For starters, he loathed charity work. It was a waste of his precious time, devoting attention to causes he did not care for nor did he even bother to look up. He hated the idea of taking care of others, he hated the cameras following, the million questions hurting his senses, and above all, he hated weakness. And wasn’t charity all about weakness? Of helping those not strong enough to make it out on their own?

If that wasn’t enough reason, he was in one of his moods that day. One fo those unstable, volatile, violent moods in which he might even turn around and bite his own leash off just to take it out on those around him, hate them and hurt them so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of his own emotions. He’d even lashed out at her, not caring in the slightest for the fact that she loved him, forgetting that he loved back. Then again, she had been genetically manipulated so that his powers had no effect on her, just as her own had no effect on him. Not that any of that had ever stopped them from trying in the past.

But the media loved them together, probably because they got to see so little of their relationship. That was another of her personal little triumphs. She’d managed to keep Vought’s media team out of her own relationship after showing them that the public responded better to couples who weren’t flaunting their feelings about every single day. It made them more believable. What little the public got to see of Homelander as a boyfriend humanized him in their eyes (which she knew he hated, and it had taken a whole lot of convincing, fighting and angry sex to finally get it through his thick skull that they had to feed something to the masses). Hence, him coming along to the animal shelter with her, with that cold, shiny fake smile he’d been trained to put on his face like makeup whenever the cameras flashed in their direction.

At least, so far, he looked only irritated, which was a welcome cry far from the usual expression that looked like he was wondering whether if snapping some snotty brat’s arm “by accident” might wriggle him out of the event. Probably because he was not being pestered. She hadn’t chosen an animal shelter charity thinking that he would come along, but because she loved animals. Yet it was turning out to be a smart move. “At least you won’t have anyone asking you for autographs and pictures” she’d pointed out just before coming. She’d received a bad-tempered grunt in response, which was better than some snappy remark.

After the usual tedious talk with the owners of the shelter and the promise of a considerable donation and all those annoying displays that involved actual human contact and during which she was really fearing he might break the glass of water he was holding and throw a tantrum, there came the actual interaction with the actual animals. They were brought to a wide backyard in the center of the kennels, in which they were greeted by a hoard of enthusiastic puppies of all sizes and colors, that demanded pats and kisses and belly rubs. She immediately dropped to her knees and opened her arms wide, letting them jump all over her and whimper and place lots of sloppy, wet kisses on her face. She could almost here Homelander saying “I’m not coming anywhere near you covered in dog slobber”.

She looked around for him and noticed him closer to the kennels, his back leaning against one of the cages and his bad mood strong enough for the puppies to sense it and steer clear away from him, even if the humans did not. Suddenly, his nostrils flared, and he turned around, peering inside the kennel he had been leaning against moments before. She caught sight of a figure lurking on a far corner in the back, it’s beady eyes sad and resentful. She could the white of its teeth as its upper lip curled slightly in a snarl.

“Why is this one locked up?”

Homelander surprised everyone when he spoke up after being unusually quiet during the entire event. One of the caretakers of the shelter stepped forward at a prudent distance and cleared her throat “Oh, that’s one of the newbies, sir. He arrived some time ago, after they found him in a compound that raised puppies to become dog fighters in the pit. He’s been abused pretty roughly for one so young, and he’s very aggressive. We have to keep him locked for the moment, for his own safety and those of the other puppies. Sir”.

“It’s not his fault though, is it?”

“What was that, sir?”

Homelander made a gesture with his hand, brushing off the comment “Nothing”.

She hadn’t missed the whole exchange, but as it seemed he wasn’t going to add anything or elaborate, she returned her attention back to the puppies, smiling and asking questions about them, their stories, their health to the various caretakers, while the cameras buzzed around capturing the best moments of her interaction with them so that later, thousand upon thousands of celebrity sites and talk shows would replay them over and over again, sighing over the shadow heroine who took time off fighting crime to think about the well-being of the innocent creatures nobody else bothered to think about.

She was in the middle of answering a question about the animals she had had back in the farm, when there was a sudden exclamation of alarm from one of the caretakers.

“Sir, please, you can’t open that cage!”

Homelander, without anyone really noticing, had opened the door to the aggressive puppy’s cage, and was kneeling by threshold, looking inside at the snarling animal. She could see his lips moving, all though he was murmuring too softly for anyone else to hear. One of the caretakers stepped forward, and the hero immediately raised a hand in the air to stop her.

“Stay back” he ordered through gritted teeth, his jaw set, a small muscle twitching.

“But-”

“I told you to stay back”. His voice was hard and authoritarian. And it had that dangerous edge it had been carrying all day. Yet after a moment, his jaw relaxed ever so slightly, and he started murmuring to the dog inside the kennel again.

It was time to intervene.

She rose to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest “Everybody leave us for a moment, please. Take these little fellows too, if you would be so kind”.

For a second, nobody moved. She glared at the owner director of the shelter pointedly, a stare that allowed no argument and that she usually reserved for criminals. It worked, and everyone, including the camera crew, were soon hurrying out, picking up the puppies with them, until the backyard was completely clear, except for her, Homelander, and the puppy inside the kennel. Slowly, she approached them, until she was able to crouch beside him and gently rest a hand on his shoulder.

“John?” she called out now that they were alone.

He didn’t reply, still focused on the dog in front of them. It had stopped snarling, and was now standing a few steps away from them, its belly pressed to the ground as he slowly, warily, crawled towards Homelander’s extended gloved hand. Its black lips twitched from time to time, and its hair was standing on end, but he nonetheless drew closer, until his nose was only a few centimeters away from Homelander’s hand.

“Make way for him” the man whispered, as he too took a step to the side, clearing the doorway for the dog. It hesitated. And then, finally, stepped out onto the grass with unsure footsteps.

For a long moment, the puppy simply stood there, as if it could not quite believe it was outside, free, and nobody was stopping him or forcing him back to his cage. It looked like a mixed breed, something halfway between a Pitbull and a Rottweiler. How stereotypical. It blinked under the sunlight, and then, finally, sat on its hunches first, and then extended out his front legs, and laid down in the sun.

Then Homelander reached out to him. The animal immediately snapped and revealed its fangs once more, growling. Homelander pulled his hands back, an obviously outraged frown on his face. And for a moment, she feared he might cut it in half. But his expression eventually softened. He peeled off his glove, and reached out again, this time ever so slowly, making sure the puppy was catching every one of his movements and not taken by surprise. The puppy didn’t growl but stared at him warningly. Finally, it allowed the superhero to rest his hand on its back and pet him. The hair along his back stopped raising, and suddenly, its eyes weren’t glazed with anger anymore.

She released the breath that until then, she hadn’t realized she had been holding, still not quite sure what it was that she was seeing. He’d actually taken the time to coax the puppy out of its cage, and instead of lashing out when it had rejected his initial approach, changed his strategy to suit the animal’s needs. She had never seen him go to such effort for someone else, not in a long, long time; except perhaps for her.

Slowly, mimicking his actions, she reached out to the puppy, whispering soothing words to it. It allowed her to pet him too, and while Homelander scratched it behind the ears, she ran her hand along its back.

And then, as if the entire situation wasn’t already unexpected enough, the little fellow flopped onto his back and exposed is dark brown belly to them, demanding belly rubs. Belly rubs!

“John” she called at him again “What the hell are you doing exactly?”

“Aggressive my ass” he finally said, his eyes never leaving the puppy as it started to twitch one of its hind legs “He’s just tired of being locked up in a fucking cage, with people ordering him about and calling him out”.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Her eyes opened in realization, and she breathed out softly “Does he sound familiar to you?”

Homelander finally lifted his face to look at her. His blue eyes were soft, showing genuine emotion for the first time that day. It seemed like his anger had finally subdued. In his gaze, she actually saw the implicit apology for his behavior towards her earlier that day. Homelander never apologized, but she knew how to look for that feeling in his eyes. They could be almost naively transparent when he wasn’t thinking.

“Someone should have bothered to ask him what he wanted. Maybe if they stopped treating him like a potential killing machine, he wouldn’t be all growls and snaps” he shrugged.

The puppy emitted a playful yelp. It sat back up, and stepped closer to Homelander, until it rested its snout on top of his knees and looked up to him. Grateful. Trusting. Every so slightly, its short tail wiggled.

And then, without any explanation, Homelander scooped him up and rose to his feet. She rose with him, still not quite believing her eyes. “I know that look. What exactly are you planning?” she knew that determined set on his jaw when he set his mind on something.

“I think he’s seen enough of kennels to last a lifetime. I’m taking him with us. If these people won’t bother to actually treat him according to his needs, then…” suddenly he stopped, as if he had just realized what he had been about to say. His expression was almost comical as he cleared his throat “Well…he shouldn’t be here anyways”.

She cracked a grin, and took a step closed to rub the puppy’s head. It had started to doze off in Homelander’s arms. The hero, after a moment, reached out and wrapped his free arm around her waist.

“You do realize they’re going to lose their shit back at the tower with a dog running about, right?”

Homelander looked at her, his face serious. He didn’t care. He’d do as he damn well pleased. She knew that look. It said mine. Suddenly, he grinned at her, before looking down at the dozing pup in his arms. “I’d be disappointed if they didn’t. How about you, buddy?”

[kazbrekkerscrutches]

Anakin Skywalker - Older

Warnings: Death, Mention of the Dark Side [haha]

Words: 2,1k

[10 years earlier]

“FATHER!” My throat was raw as the piercing scream came out of my throat. Obi-Wan was stuck in two different pulsing electrons as we watched my father die. Tears of anger and revenge shot on my face.

As the pulsing electrons disappeared in front of me, my lightsaber shot up, the green color filing up the space around me. My legs were running before I knew it, while taking the first step to attacking the Sith. My fellow Jedi walked behind me, now attacking the Sith by two. Slashing sounds were all that could be heard through the grunts and the lightsabers hitting themselves.

My mind was racked with wrong ideas, ideas that weren’t the Jedi way, but now my father was the one to pay. Our enemy made me trip over the melting pit, but I cached a nozzle on the side before perishing into the whole. My lightsaber, that my father had helped me do it, fell into it. It was probably the only thing that I had that reminded me of him.

Obi-Wan needed to fight the Sith, but I knew that our opposant was stronger. I looked all around me to see what I could use to defend myself, as I saw my father’s lightsaber lying by him.

I’ve always been good with the Force, but when it comes to situations like these, I can barely function with the pressure. I focused my mind to help myself raise from the pit and to take my father’s belonging. I felt a boost of adrenaline run through my veins, making me lift up from the ground and catch my father’s lightsaber through the thin air.

I approached the both of them and attacked the Sith ruthlessly, slashing his body in half, and seeing him fall into the pit. I immediately rush to my father’s side, taking his hand in mine as Obi-Wan placed his head on his lap.

“Master.” Obi-Wan’s voice was filled with sadness and helplessness. Tears ran on his delicate face, making me tear up.

“It is too late...It's...” My father’s voice rang through my ears, making me regret not spending enough time with him.

“No, Father. Please don’t go.” My father looked down at me, holding his hand to my cheek, as I held his on my face, feeling his warmth for the last time.

“Y/N, my… beautiful daughter, Obi-Wan, promise me you’ll… both train…the boy.” He whispered loud enough for us to hear. I nodded my head against his hand.

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan ran his fingers on his face, admiring the only father figure he had.

“He is the chosen one...he will...bring balance...train him! Y/N… I love… you…” His hand fell from my cheek, falling on the ground. My heart was broken and a powerful heartbreak was unleashed inside of me.

“Father, NO. Please wake up, I-I-I need you.” My head fell on his chest as I felt Obi-Wan taking me away from his body.

“No, Obi-Wan, No.” I sobbed while he took me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry...” He whispered in my ear, brushing his hand by my neck, making me look up to him.

“I know it-t-t hurts, but we need to leave, now.” I nodded against my own will, but our Jedi duties were needed. I took my father’s precious lightsaber in mine and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I will always love you, father.” I stood up and Obi-Wan led me towards the real battle.

[10 years later]

“Master Y/N?” A soft voice made me snap out of my thoughts. I had heard news that two Jedi knights were coming to help protect Senator Amidala. It made me relive some odd memories about my father, and my journey along the path of light.

“Yes?” My padawan came through the doorway of my chamber. He was one of the younger children I had helped in my journey. Most of my padawan were children who were orphans and didn’t know how to control their gift.

“The Jedi Knights are arriving.” He softly spoke to me. I smiled in approval. “Thank you, dear one. You may have the day to yourself, enjoy it!” He ran through the doorway, going to join his friends in the junior training center.

I really loved to work with the children, especially with the younger ones. It reminded me of my pleasant childhood on Coruscant. I walked towards the elevator, ready to welcome the two Jedi Knights. I didn’t know who were coming, but I felt a great force coming from the two of them.

I heard the doors open and turned around. I immediately recognize their faces.

Obi-Wan and… Anakin? Perhaps.

“Y/N!” He almost ran up to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and holding me tight against him. We trained most of the time together, and eventually became best friends.

“It’s great seeing you after all this time, Obi-Wan.” I gave him a squeeze around his back as he let go of our embrace, taking a good look at the woman I became. I looked at the teenager behind him and I could recognize those blue eyes anywhere.

“Anakin? God, you’ve grown.” A smile grew on his face, I walked closer to him, smiling back at him, and embracing him into my arms. He wrapped his arms around my middle and landed his head in the crook of my neck.

His smell was always one of the things I always loved about him; he would always smell like sunshine and warm vanilla. I had no idea how much I had missed him until now. He mumbled something against my neck, making me shiver in his embrace. “I have missed you, Y/N.” His voice was much deeper and more mature, making me remind me of our last meeting ten years ago.

“I missed you too, Anakin.” I whispered by his neck, making me press my hand towards his hair, feeling his brownish hair in my fingers. We separated and just looked at each other for a few seconds.

I normally wouldn’t feel like this, but he made my heart flutter for the first time. After my father’s death, my heart couldn’t be repaired or fixed by anyone. His death had created a void in my soul, which made me loose some of my powers for a while.

Jar-Jar made his way towards the protectors and led them towards the Senator. Anakin turned his figure and smiled at me, offering me a small wink.

I smiled back and made my way towards the training center, which was below the conference floor. I had lived in Coruscant for a long time now, and it was and always will be my home.

[Time Skip]

I was training in the center with some electronics. I still had, even 10 years after, his lightsaber. I always had ease with the green lightsaber, as it offered me balance in my very core. Yes, I had my father who guided me before, but he appeared to me a few times. His Force was given to me after his perish, and I knew he would always be with me.

I used a blindfold to cover my eyes, seeing through it with my Force, my lightsaber was ignited and I took a deep breath before concentrating myself.

The electronic shot. Blocked it. It shot again, blocked it again. This sequence was repeated a long time before I took of my blindfold and decided to meditate.

As I removed it, I say Anakin standing in the doorway, eavesdropping. I closed my saber and walked closer to my training equipment.

“Hi there, pretty boy. Want to come in?” He nodded, smirking slightly. I opened the window that was facing towards the city, directly pointing at the sunset. We both walked towards the opening.

“How have you been, Y/N?” I took a deep breath and looked up at him, leaning against the railing.

“It’s been a hard couple of years, but otherwise I’ve been great, Anakin. I finished my padawan training and I’ve been on the council for about five years now. To be honest, I’ve never thought that I would be on the council someday.”

I chuckled to myself, hearing the words of my father that he used to tell me when I was younger; “When you’ll get older, I promise you that you will have a seat by my side, on the council.” This promise could’ve been fulfilled if things were different.

“And you? I imagine a lot has happened since I’ve met you on Tatooine.” He smiled and leaned too against the railing.

“Well, I’ve had loads of training sessions with Master Obi-Wan, but I do believe I would be ready for the trials.” He turned his head to me, running his hand through his hair. “I know that I should’ve started training when I was younger, but I feel it in my soul. I really do.”

“I get that Anakin, and I’m a master now, which can be helpful if you would want me to talk to the council, or even just to get you to do the trials without anyone, but me, knowing.” His feature stood up straight, as did mine.

His nose arrived at the top of my head, as I looked up to his complexion. “You wou…could do that?” I nodded as he wrapped his arms around my middle, spinning me in the air with him. A laugh came out of my throat for the first time in years.

As he put me down, still holding on to me, I wrapped my arms behind his neck, slightly running my fingertips in his soft hair. Anakin lifted his head, still looking in my Y/E/C eyes. His deep blue eyes and features were glowing against the dim daylight. They both looked down to my lips, lowering his head to meet mine.

Our lips collided together, making me stand up on my feet to reach his level. His hands travelled lower to my waist, pulling me closer into his warm embrace. His soft palm travelled all the way to the back of my head, making a chill run up down my spine.

My lips against his felt, like fire on ice. Soothing and loving in both ways. He was delicate and soft with me, just like he always was. My Anakin.

Even though I knew that “love” was forbidden in our sacred code, he and I had a different way of thinking. I had heard one of his conversation with the senator the other day, and somehow I couldn’t get it out of my head: “Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life.”

I always thought this way, because I knew that my father had a woman in his life, maybe he didn’t love her but he made sure that I knew that he loved me.

We both parted, as a smile grew on my face. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I turned ten.”

“You waited that long, huh?” A small laugh came out of his mouth.

“Yes, Master Jinn.” I kissed him again, this time his hands making their way through my hair, finding a small braid on the back of my Y/H/L Y/H/C hair.

He placed a small kiss on my nose before taking the braid in his fingers. “Is that…”

“My padawan braid, yes. I kept it, because it reminded me of you and, my father. He was the one to place the bands on it, when I was Master Windu's padawan.”

“I can never remember what the bands are supposed to mean.” His softness made me laugh.

“Well, the yellow and the red at the bottom are the ones I had when I was thirteen and sixteen, and then the white and green ones mean that I am a counselor and also a healer. Mostly healer, but I do have great skills from my previous master.”

“Oh, I do not doubt that.” I nudged him in his rib, making him chuckled a little. We both didn’t realise that the sun had gone out, when I looked to my right, seeing the stars appear.

“I believe your duties are calling, Anakin.” He nodded and gave me a last kiss, before running toward his master, a few floors higher.

“Y/N!” I turned to Anakin, seeing him stand on the doorway. “How about we train together tomorrow?” I smiled and gladly accepted. He turned around, practically jumping towards the elevator which made me smile even brighter than I was before.

[m34gs]

Since we both seem to be pretty musically oriented people, what kind of music do you think our favorite arrancar would enjoy most?💙💙 I meanwhile, Hueco Mundo is mostly probably silent, right?

What would Ichigo (or whoever) have him listen to first? How would he find out that humans sometimes just sit and listen to it and thats it? Would he like to do that? Would he come to like other musical activities?? 🎼🎼

Oooooh what a wonderful ask this is! I love it!!!

I think you're right. Hueco Mundo would be pretty silent. I mean, it's not like hollows really have a use for music.

As for what music he would listen to first...I think if he was hanging out with Ichigo, they would end up listening to some rock. Like, I really can picture them both enjoying rock music. Of course, initially, Grimmjow is hesitant because what the fuck is this kurosaki are you trying to kill me with noise???? But then he starts to warm up to it and even enjoy it. And when he finally decides to look up some on his own (maybe he steals Ichigo's computer for a day, or maybe Urahara has one he can borrow, who knows...lol) I think he would fall down the rabbit hole and end up listening to punk rock and metal. And he would love it. There is something so instinctual about the heavier sound of the music, it hits the emotions he is so familiar with: anger, grief, frustration, overthrowing an asshole...one of these is not quite like the others... Also I just love the idea of punk-rock Grimmjow (piercings and tattoos included!). Anyway, I really have a few songs I think he would listen to that fall into those song genres: (I'll include links in case you haven't heard them and want to listen) (warning for loud music/contains screaming)

- Wrong Side of Heaven - Five Finger Death Punch

- King for a Day - Pierce the Veil ft. Kellin Quinn

- Wash it All Away - Five Finger Death Punch

Now, those are the kinds of songs he likes when he and Ichigo spar or, on certain days, go to the human-world Gym. (Personally think Grimm would love the gym. He gets to show off his strength in front of strangers? Compete with Ichigo in various ways? And look at himself in floor to ceiling mirrors while lifting? Hell to the yes. Grimmjow is proud and a bit self-centered.)

But I also think that one day, he's just chilling with Orihime (because yes, they should be besties in my not so humble opinion)and she's like, "oh I'll put on some music and we can just relax". And Grimmjow is like "...relax? wtf does that mean". And he's expecting guitar and drums, because that's what he's used to. What he doesn't expect is for Orihime to put on Moonlight by Yiruma. But when he hears it, it reminds him of the solitude and serenity of staring out across the sand dunes in Hueco Mundo, during the times when he didn't have to be afraid. It's peaceful, it's soothing. And that's how Grimmjow starts to get into piano and instrumental music.

He keeps digging and digging. Listening to music like he's going deaf and wants to hear every piece in the world before he can't.

Eventually, he stumbles across Lindsey Stirling's violin cover of My Immortal. He's heard the original, even heard some good covers, but I think he would find the violin version especially pretty. There's something in the way the melody goes that really touches on the dark inner feelings of desperation, loneliness, and longing. Those are feelings I'm sure he knows and understands well, and I think the lack of words in that version connects to him even more because it's like he can put in his own words, his own thoughts. It's powerful. He likes it. He starts to listen to her other covers and original songs, and finds he enjoys the variety, particularly the dubstep stuff. It's fun but beautiful at the same time, and hearing the violin like that always brings him back to My Immortal and the emotions it made him feel.

And that, my friend, is how I think Grimmjow would end up being into dubstep violin.

As for musical activities, well I don't think Grimmjow would have the patience to take lessons on an instrument, especially as the results can take lots and lots of practice and might not be noticeable right away. He strikes me as someone who very much has to see his progress. Though, with the right motivation (impressing - I mean beating a certain substitute shinigami) I think he could do it.

I think concerts would confuse him at first, because why would humans want to stand in a crowd with other weird smelly humans and listen to music when they could do it in far less claustrophobic conditions? But his first time in a mosh pit might change his mind :)

Thank you so much for the ask, that was fun to answer! I hope I answered your question thoroughly, but let me know if you have more thoughts or want any clarification!

[harcourtholmesii]

A Turn Of Fates (Part 1)

Based on the prompts by @connor-sent-by-cyberlife, specifically the ‘Friend and Enemy’ prompt, but is going to be an ongoing story. This is not necessarily for the list, but I felt the need to upload this one in reference to it, since it was the second story inspired by the prompt. Part of why I wrote it, aside from the inspiration of the prompt itself, was the fact that, in the highway chase between Connor, Kara and Alice, I felt a little disappointed with all the different outcomes, and wanted to add one of my own, one which I felt could lead to a deviating storyline (see what I did there ^^ hehe (I’m pathetic)).

Pairings: Light HankCon / Hannor / Hank X Connor (May Be Updated In Future)

Warnings: - Android Gore - Near Unknowing, Attempted Suicide - Violence - Mentions and Implications of Abuse - Major Character Death

Words: 1770

Enjoy!

‘Do NOT go after them, Connor! That’s an order!’ Though Hank’s words pressed him to stay, clinging to the chain link fence and awaiting the inevitable, Connor felt his arms and legs beginning to move, as if on their own terms. He couldn’t let them get away; if they succeeded in crossing the highway, he would fail. If they failed to cross the highway, and were destroyed in the process, he would fail.

 ‘Connor! Goddammit!’ He would pre-construct the best explanation later, but he had to do this. He couldn’t allow the deviant, the AX400, and the YK500 to be shattered in pieces across the road. It would not aid their mission, and a small piece of Connor’s mind was hard-wired to call out. As if his words alone might halt them from crossing the road. It was a small strain, but a desperate one that pulled at the back of his head. He ignored t, drawing closer to the road.

 Before him, the AX400 had taken a few glancing blows to the body and arms, but had prevented any damage to YK500. Spatters of thirium dotted the road from where the trucks and cars had briefly collided with it. Of course, no vehicle would slow down; no android would ever just cross the road at a busy highway. Instead, the self-driving vehicles that made up the majority of the oncoming traffic, had been input with sensors to determine the presence of living creatures on the road.

 The cars would not stop for androids.

 He made it to the road, felt the wind of a passing car tear through his synthetic skin. If he had been human, perhaps it would have stung, but he barely noticed it. His HUD was an explosion of colour, detailing what paths to take, error signs blaring as every other car came just slightly too close. The wet of the rain made it hard to calculate exactly what he needed to do to avoid being damaged, every minor slip causing him to nearly lose his leg or more of his body.

 There was a rush through him, one he didn’t quite understand. Whilst his thirium pump was beating aggressively within the cavity of his chest, it wasn’t like the ‘adrenaline’ he was familiar with. It was a painful, claustrophobic feeling across his body, every time a car or truck came just that little too close for comfort.

 The deviant tripped over the second guardrail, its female face in a puddle of rainwater created by a minor pothole. It turned to the child-like android, as the little one made its way over the guard rail and attempted to help the deviant to its feet. Connor leapt over the first and raced up the thin island of grass and the only safe spot in the centre of the road.

 From how close he was now, Connor could scan the androids. The YK500 was missing its LED; a sign that, perhaps, whoever had owned it, didn’t wish to be reminded of its artificial nature. It was unlikely that the LED was removed by the AX400, as the process, whilst not painful, could trigger a reaction in the YK500 akin to ‘fear’. It was made to act like a child, after all, and most sharp tools directed to one’s own temple tended to cause a distressed reaction in most androids.

 The clothes, on both the androids, was too large for them; an adult’s clothes, but nothing tailored or overly expensive. Simply store bought from one of the many malls in Detroit.

 There were the finest traces of thirium close to the surface of the YK500’s, located just beneath the right eye. As uneven as it was, it would suggest ‘bruising’, caused by a blow to the head. Considering the AX400’s demeanour to protect the ‘child’, Connor doubted that their most recent witness to deviancy, a mister Todd Williams, was entirely telling the truth about what occurred the night he was ‘attacked’.

 Despite the strange, claustrophobic feeling in his chest, Connor also felt as if his blue blood was boiling. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t question it. Not now.

 ‘Instability; Increased.’

 He leapt over the final guard rail, and Connor was upon them in an instant. The AX400 had pushed the smaller of the two androids across the remaining stretch of concrete. The YK500 stood in the dirt and mud, watching as Connor and the deviant grappled in the middle of the highway.

 Another truck passed by far too close, and Connor felt his thirium pump seize for all of 3.06 seconds. He was managing to hold the deviant close, his strength far greater than that of the housekeeping android. Tried as it might, it couldn’t loosen his grip. He opened his mouth to speak when he heard the wind whistling past his ear and felt the sudden there-and-gone pressure of a rear-view mirror. It scraped across his chassis, ruining part of his uniform and tearing it enough that the synthetic skin had retreated from the damage.

 His own thirium spilled across the highway, and his arms opened on reflex in an attempt to cover the damaged area.

 As he released the android, there was a cry from the other side of the road; a child’s voice calling out in distress. Connor’s optical units zeroed in on the AX400’s gaze, where the head had turned as a reaction.

 ‘Watch out, Kara!’

 By then, it was too late. The deviant’s limp body was swept up by the hood of a driver-less vehicle. Her body went high into the air for all of several seconds before it fell to the road. The legs had been snapped off at the knee joint, thirium spilling out in all directions. Connor watched with that sense of claustrophobia growing, as if something was clenching tightly at his biocomponents.

 Its head had snapped around to face him when it hit the pavement, the neck joint split in four places from the landing. The equivalent of a human’s neck breaking. Connor’s eyes widened on the sight, and a heavy pit weighed down his body, optical units watching with dread as the YK500 stepped onto the road.

 ‘K-Kara…?’

 When the second screech of tires came racing down the highway, Connor didn’t hesitate this time. He raced forward, as fast as is long, impaired legs could manage. He reached out, feeling the wet coat through his fingers, as he pulled the child to him, and half-tackled them across the road. He curled his body up, and with his velocity, carried them into the safety of the mud and grime. A truck, that would have shattered its fragile body on impact, continued its route onward, undeterred by the obstruction of the body on the road, and the androids safely sat on the other side.

 Connor couldn’t tell if it was the child who was trembling, or himself. He peered at the damage on the road, watching as the next car and then the next, continued to spread what remained of the deviant across the road. He could feel the child’s small hands beginning to bat at his chest, attempting to push him away, but Connor simply held them closer.

 He could see the stress levels increasing in the child, how it had, without realising, attempted to self-destruct by running out onto the road when the deviant had been hit. To recover it from self-destruction, all Connor could do was hold it until Hank and the other officers got to their position.

 Peering up at the chain link fence he had climbed to continue the chase, he could see Hank was gone, and the sound of sirens and muted Knights of the Black Death could be heard crossing the bridge above their head.

 ‘Kara!’ The cry was muffled in his uniform, a desperate, anguished plea so akin to a wounded or upset child.

 ‘Instability; Increased.’

 Artificial, thirium based tears, had created a minor damp in his uniform by the time Hank was racing down the uneven hill. Connor watched him with wide eyes, and as the officers had begun setting up a small, blocked off space of road, so they might retrieve what they could of the deviant. Hank approached his side, and though it seemed as if he might strike Connor, the anger in his eyes softened at the sight of the trembling child. A paternal, instinctual reaction, as he raised a hand to the child’s head and attempted to soothe it.

 As Hank pressed closer to Connor, in an attempt to create a smooth transition from one person to another, expecting the RK800 to pass him the android, there was a moment of surprise from both as Connor simply hugged the child tighter. Her fists were bunched up in his clothes now, and something about letting her go failed to diminish his ‘concern’.

 Eventually, it was decided that Connor would be the one to transport the android to Hank’s car so they could return to the precinct. Connor followed Hank’s orders, holding the stressed little one tight to him and not letting them go, even when he had entered into the car. He watched through the windows as the traffic was redirected around a series of police banners and pylons, allowing the tech and investigative team to pick up the literal pieces of the chase.

 Hank seemed about as shaken as Connor felt, and took a moment to breathe deeply once he had entered into the car. His eyes turned to the child in Connor’s arms and to Connor himself, leaning over just enough to raise one hand to Connor’s face. His thumb swept across Connor’s cheeks, revealing a wetness between the tips of his thumb and fingers. Connor was ‘crying’.

 ‘I didn’t think androids could cry.’

 ‘We can’t. Not really…’ Connor returned, lowering his head to rest his cheek atop the YK500’s hair. It was soft, despite it being a simple visage. Wet from the time in the rain, and with the smell of soap from the hotel tub. He felt he couldn’t breathe, even though androids didn’t have to take in oxygen, it felt as if his breath was caught in his throat. He let out a sound he did not recognise.

 ‘Connor…’

 ‘Let’s just head back to the precinct, Hank.’ His voice was a strained kind of stern, Connor attempting to hide the strange feelings by pressing them back behind walls of coded security. The child shifted in his arms, and Connor could tell she was entering into a stressed stasis, her body attempting to recover from the emotional shock.

 ‘We finished the mission.’

 ‘Instability; Decreased.’

[writefightandflightclub]

Nightmares and daydreams

Summary: you have a nightmare centred on Poe meeting a bitter end, and so you have to see for yourself that he’s alright. Major angst, eventual fluff.

Author’s note: not super happy with how this turned out, but it’s been sat in my drafts unfinished for so long that I just need it gone. Plus, I cried a few times writing it (at the same bit each time) and I can’t take it anymore. Yikes :P

Warnings: nightmares, sweats, fear, reference of character death / war (not too graphic), crying, arguing / fighting, angst. Gendered terms WRT to reader e.g. “girl”, sexual themes but no explicit smut.

GIF by @hupperts​ (I use this GIF so much, oops.)

Word count: 2.6k

You are barrelling down the hallway in a cold sweat, tears coursing down your face. You know it doesn’t make sense -it’s not logical- but your nightmare had seemed too real. You had to get to him. You had to see for yourself that Poe was ok. You needed to shake that image of him; skin cold and bloodied, eyes vacant -as glassy and unlit as empty cockpits. You needed him in front of you, living and breathing; and so, you woke and you ran.

This was the second time you had run to him today.

It had been a typical dogfight. A typical close-call. Poe had pulled some reckless stunt and his X-Wing had taken a hit. Smoke trailing behind him and flames licking the cockpit, his stuttering engine had barely carried the battered craft home. You had landed bumpily behind him as you watched his ship thump and skitter across the runway, jumping out and tearing over towards him at full pelt as you watched him clamber out of the cockpit, swaying slightly and patting down his lightly smoking flight suit. You had been inexplicably angry with him, trembling with white hot rage as you tore into him for his actions. You had pulled your helmet off and smashed it on to the duracrete floor, had screamed at him and he had screamed back, spitting vitriol at one another until you were practically chest-to-chest in the airfield.

The ground troops had to wrangle you apart, siphoning Poe off towards the med bay -despite his very vocal protestations- and dragging you towards the command room. Still bubbling with a boiling rage in the pit of your belly, your incessant accusations of Poe’s folly hissed from your lips like irrepressible steam. The General ordered you to take a walk and cool off, and so you had looked at her as if betrayed and stormed-out of the command room, leaving a fraught scene in your wake.

You had walked into the forest surrounding base, not knowing where to, until night descended and turned the air biting cold. Until the heat has dissipated from you, figuratively and literally. Until you just felt numb. By this time, the exhaustion was hitting you, and all you wanted was to fold yourself into darkness, perhaps before any regret had a chance to take hold of you. You’d retired sullenly to your quarters, stripping off everything except your underwear and tossing it to a heap on the floor, then you had climbed under the covers, still covered in smoke and dirt and blood and not caring.

You were exhausted, so sleep came to you immediately, but it was encumbered by the residual adrenaline and stress wracking your body. The events of the day twisted and flailed in your mind like wisps of smoke which became whips, cracking at you with violent and jarring intensity. Flashbacks of actual terrors mingled with imagined terrors came as an onslaught until you were trapped in a vivid vortex of despair, the fear you held deep in your bones right at the centre, seeding the tangled vision.

Poe. Poe dead. Poe dead and gone.

You were jolted awake by your own cries and thrashing, your heart pounding and skin slick with sweat, your jagged breaths heaving in the pitch-dark. Alone in the night, you desperately tried to sift through the events of the day to understand what was real. You were sure that you had screamed at him on the runway- that he’d made it home. Hadn’t he? Even so, the nightmare had plucked at a deep-seated fear. The fear that you carried religiously with you into every mission. As sure as you would zip-up your flight suit and harness, load your munitions, and put on your helmet, your fear that Poe wouldn’t make it this time was bundled into the cockpit with you, crammed into the spare spaces. The fear always settled around you, lightly at first like wisps of smoke, clinging to your hair and skin. At moments where he came too close to harm, those wisps would become whips again, and the only way to stave off the inevitable pain was to become fierce, like a lion. To become angry.

You routinely masked your feelings with anger, but the truth is, you are terrified. Terrified you’ll lose him. Now, when you are too exhausted to muster any further defences, the whips are cutting you deep. The wounds they’re inflicting might not be physical, but the pain you are feeling is wholly real.

That was how you ended up at his door in the night, banging your closed fist against it persistently.  You didn’t care that you were half-naked and dishevelled, the thought having barely entered your head. You simply need to see him.

Poe opens the door wearily, still in his flight suit despite the late hour. He is still sweaty, still covered in blood and dirt, his hair a knot of confused curls and thick stubble sprouting over his jaw; but even this weak show of energy seems positively vital, radiant in comparison to the macabre vision in your nightmare. He registers it is you standing there, and in all the terrible situations Poe has seen you face, you’d swear he can’t have seen you this distraught before. His eyes instantly flash with concern.

“What is it, what’s happened?” Poe asks, his voice creaking under the strain like he can’t possibly take anything else horrible today. Even so, he’s looking at you like he’d run out and fight the whole galaxy for you if you could just tell him what hurt you like this. But him being in front of you is all you needed. You simply dive forward and cling to him in relief. Like you should have done when he touched down. Like you should have done in every moment you possibly could have before now.

He yields to you slowly, as if he is starved of touch, perhaps as if your affection is a shock to him after all of the times you’ve been too harsh. After all of the times you’ve stubbornly, selfishly tried to push him away. Slowly, as if you may be a cruel trick, a vision or a wisp of smoke yourself, Poe brings one arm around your waist, one hand up to wrap securely at the nape of your neck. He must find you slick with sweat, your bare flesh cloying and trembling beneath his palms, but he doesn’t recoil. He simply holds you as deliver stifled sobs of relief into his shoulder.

After a few moments like this, upon realising there is no external danger -the threat is evidently an inner turmoil- Poe shuffles you delicately into his room so the door can close behind you. “You’re ok. You’re safe.” he soothes, as your hands ball into his chest. “Do you want to tell me what’s up?” He coaxes, without pressuring you, bringing his hands to your shoulders to gently part you from him, to make you look him in his eyes. You find them still full of concern as well as weariness.

The softness of him, given without question, is almost too much for your vulnerable heart to bear and so you bite back cruelly. “You’re a stupid, preposterous man.”

Poe’s jaw tightens, and you half expect him to come at you, but instead, he lets your words bounce off him. Instead, the palm of his calloused hand comes up to your face, rough pad of his thumb gently swiping the tears off you. “I know that, but what’s new?” he teases, with a whispered voice and soft smile, though his eyes remain turbulent with worry. His other arm comes back to your waist, his broad hand warm and reassuring at your back.

You’re not equipped to counter such disarming tenderness. All you know how to do anymore is to deflect it. “I hate you sometimes.” you insist stubbornly.

This time Poe purses his lips, his eyes hardening slightly. But you’re looking hungrily between his eyes and mouth, your pupils blown out, your hands now fisting at his lapels, your breath seething in and out of you.

You’re almost chest-to-chest, as you were earlier that day, except this time, his hand is on your bare skin, his fingers drawing circles on your back, his dark eyes intent on you, infused with heat but not with anger. He continues to caress your face with his palm, and to both your surprise your mouth moves to him, your soft lips brushing over his fingers, a needy moan billowing over them. 

His own breathing becoming uneven, he cocks his head inquiringly at you. “And the rest of the time?”

The rest of the time? When you weren’t telling yourself you hated him?

Thinking about that invites buried, denied feelings to the surface. Your palms paw at his chest. An urge talking hold of you which is so strong, so irrevocable, that you feel almost powerless against it. Your hands slip down his torso in something like defeat, tugging at the flight suit at his hips, pulling him on to you. Both his hands move to your back now, his fingers tracing his touch on you like a spark running along a fuse line.

“Poe.”, you breathe. Still resisting, pawing, whimpering.

“What do you need? Tell me. Say it and it’s done.” his gruff, throaty request is like the striking of a match.

With it, you do tell him. Tears still drying on your cheeks, your lips work all of the words into him that you can’t find, the feelings that you have buried and can’t yet name. Your mouth presses to his in a crush of lips as if you are trying to pin your slippery heart safely between you. As if you will die if you ever lose this contact. Poe responds immediately, urgently; without pause, as if he’s always been ready for this. As if he’s always been expecting it, and everything else is simply an interruption - a break from the inevitability of kissing you.

He tastes like oak and spice and caramel, his tongue against yours sending a trail of fierce heat down into the pit of your stomach as if you’ve just taken an intoxicating swig of him into your mouth; a warming sensation like the burn of whisky, your body thrumming with this buzz. And it’s still not enough of him. You want to be drunk on him. He moans into your mouth. His tongue is no longer biting and bickering, but warm and supple and in agreement with yours.

It’s the kind of kiss that is both desperately sad and desperately joyous because you waited so long for it.

Poe’s thigh thrusts in between your own, his muscled leg pressing up against your core as you feel his desire growing against your hip. His hands slip up into your hair, his touch growing frenzied, more desperate, and you tip your head back to give his lips access to the column of your neck, his stubble grazing and tongue soothing the tendinous flesh there as you moan into the air for him.

Your hands can’t decide where they want to be, and you want to touch all of him at once, his body both soft and strong under your touch. You just know you need his skin on you, and so you clutch desperately at his flight suit, up against the logistics of getting him naked with all manner of belts and holsters impeding you, your haze of desire not helping you accomplish your task. 

Poe senses your urgency and groans into the junction of your neck, hating himself for the interruption he knows he has to deliver. “Wait.” he breathes, before tearing himself reluctantly away from you and stepping back a fraction. “Wait. This is happening really fast... Is this ok?”

“We have to, Poe, we have to. We can’t wait.” you plead, and something in your voice seems to have the opposite effect to what you’d hoped for.

“Baby, there’s no rush.” Poe slows, the concern returning to his eyes again, a result of the emotion and insistence in your tone.

“No! There’s not enough time!” you blurt out, voice desperate and broken and high-pitched. And there it is. The thing you have to acknowledge. That fear you hold deep in your bones is resurgent all over again, and it instantly causes tears to spring forth from you. “There’s not enough time, Poe.” You repeat weakly and in defeat, voice filled with so much pain that Poe steps imperceptibly back from you, as if he is being hurt vicariously. “I dreamed you were gone. I dreamed that you were dead.” you admit, and Poe’s eyes swim instantly with sadness. Almost with guilt. He sags as if he’s been punched in the gut.

“That’s what you were upset about?” he questions in the smallest of voices. “That’s why you’re here?”

Realising that the mood has gone and feeling sombre, you fold at the knees and sink down, perching on the end of Poe’s bed. Solemnly, he sits down next to you. He looks positively broken.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Poe. It could happen. On any single mission. It could be either one of us.” You look at him in apology, and although you can see your words are hurting him you don’t seem to have the strength left to contain your confession any longer. “I already wasted so much time trying to tell myself I hated you that... I’m scared. I’m so scared that I’m gonna run out of time to love you. Poe.”

His face twists in distress, and he’s staring wordlessly at a very particular spot on the floor, seemingly unable to lift his eyes to yours. He wants to reassure you. You can see the effort shudder through his body. You see him try and flail for words of comfort, each attempt dying in his throat. Instead, his brows knit together and his face contorts. Your heart breaks seeing the pain there, and he shakes his head as if in apology as tears begin to overflow onto his cheeks too. He knows your fear is valid and there’s little he can do to allay it. You know he feels this because when he finally looks back up at you, you recognise the very same fear in his eyes too.

When he finally speaks, his voice cracks with emotion. “I don’t want to run out of time to love you either.“ Agreement is seemingly all he can offer you. You sit there together in momentary silence, reaching out to grasp one another’s hands tightly in the space between you on the bed, becoming joined by the hands and joined by your shared fear.

Suddenly, everything seems so bleak, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake. If anger would be easier. If love is too much pain. But then, you think back to your dream, to those lifeless eyes of his, vacant and glassy and unlit as cockpits. The pain in him now stems from a living, breathing love. At least that’s something. And suddenly, it seems like everything. Poe holding you? Alive? Kissing you?

Poe is surpised when a small smile inches its way over your face. “It’s ok, Poe. It’s ok. I’m wrong. I’m tired, and I’m scared, and I’’m wrong.”

He wipes his tears away with the heel of his hand. He shakes his head in mild confusion.

When you speak again, your voice is stronger, more certain. “We haven’t wasted any time. We found each other, didn’t we? We made it this far? Maybe we don’t know if everything will be ok. How much time we have left. But we have this second and the next and then the next. And when I’m sitting here with you, this second, you’re more than enough for me.” You reach over to twine your fingers in his curls, gazing at him fondly. “How lucky am I that you came back today, and that I get to hold you? That doesn’t sound like a waste to me. If I get to hold you one more time or 1000 or a million, I want to make each one count.”

He leans into your touch, and you realise how wrecked he is. How wrecked you are. He nods, softly, another single tear coursing down his cheek. You kiss it away from him. Finally, a small smile echoes your own.

“We’ve got time?” he asks you, voice tinged barely with hope. 

“We’ve got time. We don’t have to rush. I’ll be here in the morning, and if you want me to, I’m gonna kiss every inch of you and make love to you. And I’m gonna take my sweet kriffing time with it, ok?”

He brightens ever so slightly at that. “If I want you to? Are you kidding me?”

You smile a little more broadly at him. “Can I kiss you?”

He nods, and you bend to press a feather light, chaste kiss to his mouth. He closes his eyes against it and tugs in a deep, slow breath.

“What now?” he asks tiredly. 

“I’m tired.” you state, and Poe nods in agreement. He mumbles something to you and momentarily retreats to the refresher, returning with a damp cloth.

“What are you doing?” you ask in confusion, and he stands before you, cupping your chin in his hand.

“Baby, you’re beautiful, but you’re a mess. Just let me take care of you a minute, ok?” Ever so gently, he runs the cloth over your face, your neck, your arms, your torso. He washes away the dirt and blood and sweat, and with each gentle, intimate caress he seems to wash away some of the weight of the day along with it.

Once this sweet man is done, you slowly return the favour, helping him unbuckle himself and slip out of his flight gear- a much easier prospect when your fingers are calm, your hands steady. He steps out of his clothes and even with how tired you are you can’t help but appreciate his body, your eyes running over his form before you stand to ease the cloth over his face and his tired muscles too. “How do you look good even when you look like shit, Dameron?”

He throws a small, lopsided grin at you before chucking the cloth in the direction of the refresher, the mess would be tomorrow’s problem.

“Come on. We’re gonna sleep.” he pats your thigh affectionately and encourages you into his bed, laying down beside you in turn and curling his warm, sturdy body around you. “Only sweet dreams from here on in, ok? I’ve got you, sweet girl.”

It feels so good to have him wrapped around you. Still, right now, you just want to hold him fully, want to encase him and comfort him too. “Hmm, this is all wrong, Poe.”

“Huh?” he questions, already groggy and tumbling towards sleep.

“Don’t you wanna be little spoon?”

“Yeah.”, he admits, swivelling around sleepily under the sheets so you can slot yourself around him. 

He hums in happy satisfaction and you can’t help but snicker softly into the back of his neck.”You make happy beeps too?” you ask, referencing the sweet sounds Poe’s astromech comes out with. 

“What can I say? I like it when you don’t hate me. Took you long enough to figure it out though.”, he chides, good-naturedly. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“None o’ my business.”

You smile into his hair as you pull him into you even more tightly.

You had known love could hurt, but you’d never known it could hurt so much that you would fail to recognise it as love. However, as you hold him like this, you feel something happy begin to blunt the edges of your pain. You had mistaken love for a cruel beast to keep at bay; to counter by becoming equally ferocious. But now that you had confronted your nightmare, you saw that this love could only stop hurting you if you welcomed it. This love only bared its fangs when you tried to fight it.

“Poe,” you say softly, before he drifts off. “I’m so sorry. For being so angry.”

“Me too, sweetie.”

Your heart swells and you finally close your eyes again. As you hear Poe’s breathing become softer and sleep-ridden you whisper softly into his curls as you tug him close.

“I’ve got you too, sweet boy. Sweet dreams from here on out.”

THE END

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[thriceboundhome]

Before the Bond

“Sl—slow down, Ita!”

“Walk faster then.”

The two children's squabble echoed through the trees with how loud they were shouting. They had too if they wanted the other to hear. The roar of the waterfall that Itani insisted on walking by was already drowning out the sound around them.

An inaudible jumble of words left Quinn as she kneeled down on one knee to try and catch her breath. Her lungs were burning with how she was pushing herself to keep up with her brother. She doesn't even know what got him so riled up that he's walking so fast. They were walking at a moderate speed last time she checked.

"What was that? You gonna stay there and mope?"

Almost

The stone that  flew at him made any form of pity for the girl vanish. He caught it in one hand as the other raised to point at her, a flinch from her made him pause and breathe to calm down before sighing. The boy glanced at the stone before dropping it into the stream at his feet when he felt the urge to throw the pebble back at her. Itani looked back at Quinn and gave her a thin lined smile with his eyes closed.

“Stay here. I'll go out to see if I can catch a rabbit for us to roast.”

The male said the words like an order, even knowing that Quinn didn't take the tone kindly. In her frustration, she pushed up some dirt with her hands.  She had sat down while trying to catch her breath when her legs started shaking. Her body still in panic mode from being captured and whisked away from her home.

“Why can't I go with you, huh! You don't like me or something?”

The question was asked out of anger, though she knew that whatever answer she gets might just make her cry. From the harsh way Itani was talking to her and the situation she was taken out of, it's safe to say that her mind wasn’t ready for any kind of rejection at the moment.

The boy in question stopped himself mid step and turned to face her. It was hard to balance on a smooth rock with rapid water flow pulling at his feet but he made it work. The sight he was greeted by was the elf eared girl punching the hard ground beneath her with drooping ears. Unshed tears clumping at the corner of her bright blue eyes.

Red splattered lightly on the dirt since small rocks were digging into Quinn's skin. The crunching sound made Itani's skin crawl, too familiar a sound to the crackling, burning wood that remains playing in the back of his head. A smooth stone was thrown at the girl to get her to stop, hitting her square in the middle of her forehead.. Not the best way to end the onslaught she  unknowingly caused him but it worked. Her shiny eyes filled with hurt was only a small price to pay for his mind.

“I don't like you but I don't hate you either,” he spoke his mind, ignoring the fuming girl as she quarrelled about the stone hitting her head. “I tolerate you, I don't save someone I don't like.”

The confession made her pause her ranting. A small nod to herself was done as she soaked in the information. Half of a smile came to her lips while Itani continued walking up the stream. His words made sense plus it wasn't a total rejection which made the sting in her eyes lessen. Even if it was a rejection it wasn't the same as the ones she got when she was locked in that damp...dark.. cold cell. Itani's voice broke her train of thought and brought her back to the present. 

“Stay put, you're hurt. I'll be back soon. Shout if something happens.”

With the words hanging in the air, he left the girl to her own devices. Silence filled the air save the thundering of the nearby waterfall. The girl was left with her thoughts, something she didn't allow herself to do often. The things that her mind provided her with at times like these weren't always the greatest.  A low whistle left her as she breathed out some air before puffing her cheeks. If she was going to be left alone, she certainly wasn't going to be left bored.

So with shaking limbs and nothing but the sheer will to disobey Itani, Quinn picked herself up and wandered around the waterfall and streams. Her legs still refused to work with her so she ended up having to crawl some. The girl made her way to the edge of the walk way and peered over to view the water. It was crystal clear, reflecting the bright blue sky so perfectly that it matched the sparkle in her eyes. She almost couldn't make out her eyes from the water.

She giggled out as she let her hand dip into the cool water. A content sigh left her as the cool of the water fought off the heat that came from overworking herself. Allowing her eyes to slide shut, she felt a strange peace settling over her with the sounds that surrounded her. The chirping of the birds overhead, the crittering of squirrels playing along the trunks of trees soothed her. Eventually, she ended up dozing off. The sounds of the forest calming her enough to let the adrenaline in her system wash away, allowing her rest.

All while Quinn drifted off to sleep, Itani was making his way back to her. Bow and arrow in one hand, a few skewered rabbits in the other, it took some time to track them down and get a good aim but he was satisfied with his catch.

‘Should last us about a week until I need to hunt again.’ 

He made a mental reminder to himself as he pushed away leaves that blocked his path. He was hurrying and he didn’t know why. What had him in such a twist that he was running out of breath just from walking, there were only two answers to that question and both were distasteful to him. One more than the other but it still made him scrunch up his nose in refusal at the idea. Though the answer was clear to see he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Even when he let out a breath of relief when he saw Quinn, napping.

Comfortable and unharmed. It made his chest feel lighter, like a weight was lifted. One that he didn’t know existed. He stood there looking at her for a while longer, just to make sure she wasn’t hurt in any form of the word. Well, not every form, her mind probably isn’t the safest place for her to be at the moment considering the situation he had taken her out of. He moved towards her and set down the catch and his weapon on the cloth he brought back with him. Whoever decided to leave it hanging in a tree wasn’t the brightest.

The male was startled. You'd think that being waterboarded would make you scared out of your mind at the sight of water but here Quinn was with her hand in the water dreaming away. She's a different breed of human to him for doing what she does. If Itani was in her position he would have begged to not be around this amount of water all at once.  She worries, confuses and amazes him all at once. He still freaks out at any sign of fire going out of control. The tiniest sound of wood crunching makes him sick. The boy's not too sure how to feel about it. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't long before Quinn woke up. The scent of meat sizzling made her dreams take a turn to food land and she woke up with twitching ears and growling stomach. Her back was covered and warm, it helped her blurry eyes and muffled mind to clear. The girl sat up and pulled her legs close to her chest until a satisfying pop was heard. Her ears twitched again as her hands moved to rub the sleep out of her eyes,a lazy smile evident on her lips

“Mornin’ sleepy elfy.”

That made her jump. Hands coming down to clench the cloth that sat on her lap to pull it to her chest. A small whimper of fear slipped past her lips as her shoulders shoke in her panic. Slowly, she turned her head to see Itani behind her. Green eyes watched her in confusion, hints of worry sparkled in the forest green of the boy’s eyes. She let out a heavy sigh at the familiar face. Her hands set the cloth back down and rose to pass through her knotted black hair. An 'over it' expression took over her face.

“Mornin’ spooky,” Quinn replied sarcasm dripped off of her reply,“ do you wake everyone you know like that in the morning or something?”

The question set off an unwelcomed throbbing in the boy’s chest. The implications behind the words meant that he had someone left, waiting for him. He wished. Instead of answering the girl he opted to turn over the rabbit that was over the pit of fire he had lit after he had woken up from his sleep. Bucket of water close to his side so that any moment the sound of the crackling fire got to him.  A small laugh came from the man to throw off the heavy feeling on his chest.

“ No, just lazy elfs that I come across.” Itani removed the cooked rabbit from above the fire and handed it to the girl. She had scooted closer to him as they conversed. The subjects were light, jokes and jabs were made. The two kids felt like they were in their own little bubble of the world. Like nothing could hurt them or ruin the security they felt as they soaked in the sun and allowed the  refreshing lake water to swirl around their feet.

“ Sorry for making you feel as though I hated you,” Itani started, his eyes casted to the meat in his hands, “I actually really like your company. ”

Quinn looked at him, startled. Round sky blue eyes looked at the white haired man curiously, trying to determine if he was messing with her. Her hands came up to touch his cheek. She gave him a soft smile and a simple nod of understanding. He leaned slightly into her hand and sighed, is this how Dakota felt when he comforted her? A small fortress around her keeping her safe with all it's might? He would love to get used to this.

“ No worries! I got tough skin,” a grin replaced the soft smile on the girl's face,“ you can't get rid of me with that even if you tried!”

They laughed together as they packed up and outed the fire. Onto wherever their legs take them. An adventure awaits them and they're ready.

Ready together.

[cat5313]

I have prompts!!!! Nessian: "I can't take you anywhere, you just fight everyone."

So, this isn’t proofread, so that’s fun.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

************************************

Nesta used to love bars.

Years ago, after the war, bars were her sanctuary. Liquor had been her closest confidant during that period of her life. It provided her with an easy escape from the nightmares and fear that constantly loomed over her shoulder. That fear was a constant companion, even during her waking hours, and without the alcohol and lovers whose faces she could never remember Nesta had always feared the fear would overcome her.

It almost did at first, when Feyre had sent her away. Those first few weeks had been a living hell, especially with Cassian constantly up her ass to stop feeling sorry for herself and start training. Eventually, that anger that constantly boiled just under the surface had bubbled over one day. Cassian and Nesta never talked about that day, and they never would, but after that they had a silent agreement. Nesta would train and Cassian would give her space.

As the weeks passed, Nesta threw herself into her training. After many sleepless nights plagued by nightmares, Nesta had relished in pushing herself to her limit. The burn in her muscles became a replacement for the burn of liquor running down her throat. The exhaustion she felt at the end of the day that occasionally granted her a dreamless rest became a substitute for the exhaustion she often felt after inviting a faceless lover back to her apartment.

Nesta and Cassian’s agreement grew into a mutual respect for each other as the weeks passed. It wasn’t until Cassian had found her one night, sobbing in the small cabin she’d been given that their tolerance of each other shifted. He had stopped by to drop off a new pair of boots- he’d noticed hers were wearing down, and he’d wanted to replace them before they fully gave out. He’d knocked and called her name, and upon not receiving any reply, he felt a small sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He’d entered the cabin and searched the few rooms she had, that feeling of dread growing each second he couldn’t see her.

She’d been in the washroom. When Cassian had found her, she was naked and soaked, her knees tucked to her chest. She was crying, her body shivering against the side of the old tub beside her. Her hair was wet up to her chin and her arms were marred with red, angry scratch. Nesta told him later that it was her memory of the cauldron. It happened every time she bathed- she’d try to force herself to sink deeper and deeper each time, and more often than not the memory of that all consuming, dark abyss flooded her mind, and that fear would envelope her. She’d panic, and whenever she regained control of her senses, she was always out of the bath, always covered in panicked scratches from her nails.

Cassian hadn’t said a word, and Nesta was always grateful for that. Instead, he’d scooped her up into his arms, his heart breaking at how badly she was shivering, how tightly she clung to him. He’d carried her to her bedroom and held her until she calmed down, neither daring to speak. He helped her get into her nightgown and stayed with her until she fell asleep, his hand clutched in hers.

They never talked about that night either.

As weeks blurred into months, Cassian and Nesta’s relationship began to grow and develop. They’d become friends of sorts, and it wasn’t until Feyre and Rhysand sent them a message announcing the birth of their newborn son that anything truly changed. Nesta had been more than reluctant to return to Velaris, however, she wanted to meet her nephew. She wanted to see her sisters.

Cassian remained at her side the entire time. They’d flown directly to Feyre and Rhy’s new home they’d built together, where Rhys waiting for them on the front staircase. While Cassian congratulated his brother, Nesta wandered into the front entryway as memories of her sister sending her off all those months ago flooded her mind. Cassian had been there in an instant, and together they’d followed Rhys to meet the new heir of the Nightcourt.

Nesta fell in love with the little baby- he had Feyre’s features with Rhy’s hair and eyes. Feyre had insisted they stay for a few days before returning back to the mountains, and they had agreed. The same night they had arrived, Nesta’s mind had flooded with memories as she gazed out her window at the infamous night sky of Velaris. If she tried hard enough, she could see the roof of the bar she used to go to- she could even see the top floors of her old apartment building.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but something inside her broke. The air was too stale, the city lights too bright, and her room too big. The next thing she remembered was standing before a doorway, Cassian leaning against the doorframe. He’d obviously been getting ready to go to bed, but Nesta couldn’t find the will to walk away. The denial she’d been pushing down since the war was choking her, and after the past few months of his silent, unwavering support, Nesta wanted nothing more than to be able to finally breathe. So, Cassian had taken them up to the roof, and they’d talked for hours about everything and nothing. About the mating bond they’d felt between them.

For Nesta, it had been like a dream. Of course, Cassian had needed to reassure her multiple times over the next few days that it had been real, that they had talked. From there, they’d returned to the mountains and Nesta had finished her training. Her and Cassian’s relationship had grown and evolved from there, and when they’d returned home, it had been as mates. Feyre and Elian had begged Nesta for the details, but Nesta had refused. Those few days had been precious to her, and she didn’t want to expose her heart like that, even to her sisters.

Now, a few years after their return, Nesta was the happiest she’d ever been. She still dealt with the occasional nightmare, but having Cassian beside her at night often soothed her well enough that she could sleep. The inner circle had welcomed her with open arms, and although she was still rather closed off and reserved, Nesta had to admit she enjoyed their company, especially when Rhys and Feyre brought their son along.

Unfortunately, it would’ve been a bad decision to bring their six year old along with them to a bar. It was Morrigan’s birthday and she had insisted they all go out and party together. To Nesta’s displeasure, they were at their third bar of the night. All of their friends were varying levels of drunk- all except Nesta. After she and Cassian had returned, she still had a glass of wine here and there but for the most part, she didn’t allow herself to drink a lot in fear of falling back into old habits.

And, at the moment, she was glad she wasn’t drunk.

If she was, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the women looking at Cassian like he was a slab of meat.

He had gone to dance with Mor at the birthday girl's request, and after an insistence from Nesta that she’d be fine, he’d followed Mor to the dance floor. He hadn’t been gone long when Nesta had noticed the group of women beside her eyeing the Illyrian male. At first she didn’t let it bother her, but as soon as they started speaking, Nesta felt her blood coming to a boil.

“What do you think my chances are of getting him to come home with me?” A blonde asked her friends, her eyes freely roaming Cassian’s form as he danced.

“Or me,” a redhead piped up, “Cauldron, I think I’d let him do just about anything to me.”

“He probably already has a female,” another blonde spoke up, “what about the woman he’s dancing with?”

“He hasn’t touched her once, they can’t be an item,” the redhead practically purred and slid off her barseat, “Besides, even if he does have a woman, she can’t be anything special if he’s here, right?” Fixing her hair, her eyes fully settled on Cass as she moved to approach him.

“He’d never touch you, you know.”

The redhead’s steps faltered when she heard Nesta’s voice.

When the other woman turned to look at her, Nesta raised her wineglass to her lips, her cold, steely gaze locked with the redhead’s as she took a sip.

The woman’s painted lips curved into a charming smile, her hand moving to rest on her hip.

“Oh, is that so? Well, I have say I have a much better chance than you ever would. Don’t flatter yourself, dear,” she said with a challenging gleam in her eyes.

Behind her, Nesta saw Cassian’s dancing falter for a moment.

Raising her wine to her lips again, Nesta shrugged. “Well, no offense, but I doubt a man as attractive as him would ever consider touching a woman who opens her legs so easily. Such a pretty body, ruined by no shame and no class.”

Another sip.

Cassian stopped dancing all together in the crowd as Morrigan’s laughter rang out beside him.

The redhead’s cheeks bloomed with color and her brows furrowed with fury. “Like you’d know anything about shame, you snobby whore. Get off your high horse and accept no man half as attractive as him would so much as look your way.”

Her arm moved to throw the rest of her drink in Nesta’s face, but before the amber liquid could slosh out of the glass, a tanned fist wrapped around the woman’s pale wrist.

Nesta sipped her wine.

“Nesta.”

His voice sent chills up her spine, but Nesta kept a straight face as she looked at him, her finger tracing the rim of her wine glass.

“Is this woman bothering you?”

Nesta pretended to think for a moment before releasing a sigh. Setting her empty glass on the counter, Nesta slid down from her own bar stool, her cold stare meeting the two blondes from before. They both looked away immediately, and feeling satisfied, she approached Cassian and the other woman, her face stoic.

“No, not at all. She was just going to dance, right?” Nesta asked.

The redhead stared at her and Nesta simply smiled at her. Taking the woman’s glass, Nesta shot back the remaining whiskey, her eyes never leaving the redheads. She could tell Cassian was holding back a grin as Nesta held out the glass for the redhead to take again as Cassian released the woman’s wrist. With a scowl, the woman practically shook with fury as she reached for the empty glass, only for Nesta to drop it.

The glass shattered, and Nesta swore she could see the woman’s eye twitch with rage.

“Cass, I’d like to go home. It’s getting late,” Nesta said, her eyes still locked with the redhead’s.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle and moved to wrap and arm around Nesta’s shoulders as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Nesta couldn’t help but smile as the woman openly gaped at them, her eyes wide with surprise.

Cassian called a goodbye to their friends as they left the bar, and as they walked down the sidewalk in the cool night air, Cassian laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Nesta asked, her brow raised as she looked up at her mate. Cassian simply grinned and squeezed her hand.

“I can’t take you anywhere, you just fight everyone,” he said, amusement bright in his eyes.

Nesta simply shrugged. There was no point in denying what was true.

“They were looking at you like a pack of wolves. I was simply informing that woman she had no chance,” Nesta said, her chin held high. Cassian chuckled again and pulled her to the side, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Oh? How kind of you... Are you sure you weren’t jealous, Nes?” He asked with a smirk and kissed her cheek, his lips trailing down her jaw to her neck. Nesta rolled her eyes, her hands running down his chest and settling on his waist.

“So what if I was?” She asked, her eyes fluttering shut as Cassian nipped at her ear.

“You know I’d never look at anyone else, right?”

Nesta hummed and looped her fingers into the waistband of his pants, a soft sigh escaping her.

“I think you’re going to have to bring me home and prove it.”

Nesta could feel Cassian’s grin against her neck at her teasing, and with a husky chuckle, he nodded.

“With pleasure.”

[thenovelartist]

Her White Knight

It’s been 87 years... XD

This is a Secret Santa gift for @saijspellhart ! Hope you enjoy the MariBlanc (and that I did it justice) :D

...

Marinette knew this marriage was strictly political. She knew a princess’ job was to marry for the protection or political gain for their kingdom.

Or, in the case of Princess Chloe Bourgeois, her job was trying to pull the wool over her fiancé’s eyes.

In these marriages, it did not matter if the soon-to-be husband would be twice her age, no matter how desperately uncomfortable that made said princess. It had made Chloe uncomfortable, just as it made Marinette uncomfortable. However, unlike Chloe who had the power to manipulate whoever she chose, Marinette didn’t have much of a choice than to suck it up and bear it.

After traveling for days on end, she and her entourage had finally arrived at the castle, her new home. A pit of dread formed in her gut. However, she didn’t have a choice but to smile and march forward to the castle entrance, where several servants were waiting for her but not the man she had been sent to marry.

“Princess Chloe,” one of the men said, stepping forward before bowing before her. “We are so pleased you have arrived safely. Allow us to show you about the castle.”

She agreed, following the man as he led her around the place. It was beautiful, to be sure, but it didn’t make the uneasiness in her gut go away.

Eventually, the tour did come to an end in a meeting room upstairs, where her future husband happened to be. The butler introduced her as she walked into the room, then bowed and left her alone and unchaperoned with the man in front of her.

Her heart was racing so fast with nerves, and it didn’t help that the man silently stared her down with cold eyes and a stony expression.

“I remember your father commenting how chatty you were,” he eventually said.

Had King Andre said as much about Chloe? Marinette took a deep breath, hoping to settle some of the panic rising up in her. “Only with people I know well.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Marinette thought that he knew. How, she wasn’t sure. He’d never seen Chloe before now, so he wouldn’t know what she looked like. But she felt stripped bare by that cold, calculating gaze of his. And she couldn’t help but feel that if he hadn’t figured her out already, he would soon enough.

Crash!

Marinette whipped around at the sound of the shattered window, her heart pounding in fright. But in the next moment, someone grabbed her hand, yanking her back against them and putting a knife to her throat. She gasped at the sudden touch of a blade along her neck, panic making the world already start to disappear.

“Silence or I’ll kill her.”

The roar in her ears and beating in her chest only increased at the growly voice by her ear.

“Who are you?” King Gabriel asked, seemingly unfazed by the fact a man was about to kill her right before his eyes.  

The man scoffed, squeezing her tighter to the point she couldn’t hold back a scared squeak. “Of course you don’t recognize me,” he snarled. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Let’s just say this: Lady Emilie, second daughter of a duke. Do you remember her?”

King Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.

“No words to say about the woman whose life you ruined?”

Again, no response.

“Pathetic,” he spat in disgust. “So, just like you ruined hers and destroyed mine before you even knew of my existence, I’m here to finally repay the favor.”

The king didn’t even flinch. “And just how does a pathetic, no name bastard plan to do that?”

A growl rose up in the man’s throat as he pressed the knife closer to Marinette’s neck. “Considering you made me a bastard, you know part of my name. But I won’t grace you with my Christian one. However, you’ll want a name to curse when I make your life a living hell. So, from this day forth, you may curse the day Chat Blanc ever came into your life.”

In an instant, the man covered her face with a handkerchief, making it very hard to breathe. With every breath, she inhaled something that was both sweet and sour. A vile mix that made her gut churn.

“Bit by bit, I will destroy all the things you find valuable,” her captor spat, “since I doubt you have the ability to regard anything as precious.”

Her vision was beginning to blur, and her head was beginning to get light.

“And I’ll start with her.”

She tried her best to fight it, but it was no use, she couldn’t get away. Her gut was sinking faster than a stone in water. Was she going to die?

“And you think you’ll get away with this in my castle?” King Gabriel challenged.

The last thing Marinette heard before the world turned black was the man behind her chuckling, a dark, terrifying sound. “Watch me.”

…

Back at his hideaway, Adrien pulled the unconscious girl off the saddle, cradling her carefully in his arms as he marched towards his hideaway house. Marinette. The one love of his life. He’d been on his way to deliver his warning to King Gabriel when he saw her step out of the carriage.

He’d had to do a double take because, at first, he knew that couldn’t have been her. She wasn’t a princess. Yet, the resemblance was uncanny. So, he stalked her as she was shown around the castle. And the more he saw, the more convinced he was that this was his precious Marinette. How she had ended up in that position, he had no clue, but he was bound and determined to get her out of it.

So as much as he hated to scare her as he had, holding a knife to her throat and kidnapping her, he hadn’t had much of a choice.

The small house on the corner of his late mother’s family’s property only had a single room and a single bed. He laid the still unconscious Marinette on it before starting up a fire in the fire place. Fall was in full swing, and the nights were growing colder. Adrien was fine with it being a little chilly, but he wanted Marinette to be comfortable. She never did like the cold.

Once that was complete, he pulled some blankets over her. Once that was settled, he left to put his horse away properly. Hopefully, he’d return to her side before she woke up. He’d already scared her once; he didn’t want her to awake only to panic without him there to explain everything.

…

When Marinette awoke, she felt sick to her stomach. She closed her eyes tightly, fighting against the swirling in her stomach. Her head was spinning, too, making her want to do nothing but fall back asleep.

But… hadn’t something happened? She wasn’t in her own bed at her own home. Something had smelled funny…

She tried to force herself to open her eyes, only for them to slam shut when the light was too much.

“Shh.”

Long, lazy circles were being drawn on her back soothing her, coaxing her back into sleep.

“You don’t have to force yourself up,” a calm, sweet voice said. “Rest.”

And she nearly did just that. Until her mind started putting things together. Like the fact she didn’t recognize the voice. Or that she realized that she’d been traveling to meet the man that would become her husband.

Or that she’d been kidnapped.

Groggily, she opened her eyes, blinking them several times in order to focus them. She caught sight of a person sitting beside her on the bed, rubbing her back and shoulders.

“You’re awake?” the gentle voice asked. “Don’t force yourself. Sleep if you want.”

She looked up at the man’s face, spying a mess of blonde hair and a sweet smile paired with a gentle gaze. He looked so familiar. So… familiar…

“Adrien?” Her voice was dry and raspy, but it was enough for that smile to brighten even further.

“You know, when we parted and you told me that I was welcome to abscond with you when I was able to, this was not how I pictured it going.”

Her mind processed his words, taking a moment to fully register in her head. She scoffed, though she couldn’t resist smiling. “I didn’t mean it literally.”

He chuckled, reaching for a pitcher that was on the bedside table. He poured her a cup while she struggled to sit up. He helped her the rest of the way before offering her the cup. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drug you. I know that it can leave your throat dry.”

She took the cup and drank, only getting half of it down before her stomach protested her drinking any more. She set it down on the table by the bed.

“But you couldn’t imagine my surprise when the ‘princess’ showed up,” he continued. “And all I saw… was the woman I had sworn I would marry walking up to be the king’s bride. So, if you wouldn’t mind, I’m desperate to hear an explanation.”

The soft look in his eyes had shifted, a blazing fire in them now. That smile was gone, along with any gentleness in his expression. But it didn’t worry her. After having grown up with this man, after having fallen in love with him, she knew that any anger inside him was not aimed at her. She also knew how to calm him down.

Actually, as far as she knew, she might be the only one who’s ever succeeded in calming him down. “You remember that we parted because I was one of the maids sent with your aunt when she happened to marry into the royal family of the closest kingdom.”

He nodded. “I never understood why you had to go,” he said with a snarl.

“I never did, either, but I couldn’t exactly protest.”

“You should have let me abscond with you then.”

“Adrien,” she cooed, taking his jaw in her hands. Instantly, she felt him melt into her touch. “You knew why I couldn’t let you do that. You were still in training to become a royal knight, and you did not need any distraction of me being your wife at that time.”

“I could have made it work.”

“Just because you could have didn’t mean you should have.”

“But then you wouldn’t have left!” he protested. “And you could have stayed put where I could have kept an eye on you, and you wouldn’t—”

“Adrien,” she gently interrupted, cutting off his impassioned rant. She rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs, hoping to calm him down some more. Slowly, he relaxed back into her hands. “Be reasonable.”

“I am,” he muttered.

“No, you’re not, and you know it.”

His gaze fell away as he let loose a frustrated growl.

She chuckled. “It wasn’t ideal, but us parting the way we did was better than me agreeing to your impulsive marriage proposal.”

“How is three years of torture better than­—”

“Because it would have put more stress on both of us, and you know it.”

“But—”

“Adrien.”

He pouted.

Marinette grinned, rubbing her thumbs in soothing circles on his cheeks again. “Always so impulsive,” she affectionately murmured.

He grunted but didn’t protest.

With a sigh, she continued her story. “As for why I ended up pretending to be a princess, well… it certainly wasn’t my idea.”

“Never would have guessed,” he sarcastically spat.

“I had a man I wanted to marry already,” she said, leaning her face closer to his. “I didn’t want to marry a king twice my age. But on that same note, neither did Princess Chloe. When her father told her that she was to marry King Gabriel, she refused. Then she was the one who came up with the idea to send someone as a replacement for her.”

“And that someone was you?”

Marinette cringed. “Princess Chloe hated me from the moment I came to the castle. She was probably thrilled to put this task on me.”

Adrien growled, sliding even closer to her so he could pull her into his arms.

The suddenness of his actions shocked her, but soon enough, she was melting into his embrace. And after a moment of just sitting there in his arms, she started crying, clinging to his shirt as though her life depended on it. When was the last time she’d held him? Three years? She’d been fifteen when she’d been forced to separate from him. Now, she was a fully-grown woman.

No matter how it was put, she hadn’t held him for far too long, especially considering that she’d loved him more than anything. And still did.

He clung to her, too. His own body wracking as he teared up, too. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she returned tearfully. She hadn’t realized just how much until now when she was finally back in his arms.

And he didn’t seem too keen on letting her go.

That was fine by her.

After a little while of just holding him and being held, she couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nagging her. “Adrien.”

“Hmm?”

“You… you basically kidnapped me from the castle.”

“Yes.”

“Why? I mean… I understand why you pulled me away but… couldn’t you have taken me another way? You’re a member of the royal knights, aren’t you?”

Adrien tensed in her arms, slowly pulling away.

Which only caused her to worry. “Adrien?”

“I’m not part of the royal knights any longer.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “What? What do you mean?”

Adrien sighed but didn’t speak.

Marinette’s brow furrowed in worry.

“A lot of things happened when you left,” he eventually answered. “Including me growing tired of my status as a bastard child.” When he looked to her again, his gaze was icy cold and rock hard. There was no warmth in them at all. “It never leaves you, you know. It’s like bearing the devil’s mark. Once people find out, they mark you as the lowest of the low.”

Her heart broke at his words, ones woven with anger and bitterness.

“Mother always told me to ignore them. And so did you. You… you were the only person that actually treated me like a normal human. Not like a disgrace.”

“I’ve said it once,” she said, reaching out to cradle his cheek again, and he happily leaned into her touch, “And I’ll say it again: the fact that you were born out of wedlock is not your fault. It’s not fair for you to be saddled with that derogatory title.”

His eyes softened for a moment. “I wanted to believe you when you said that you weren’t the only one who believed that, but… that was my mistake.”

Something painful clenched in her gut. “Adrien—”

“I got more injuries from my teachers and squad-mates than in training or in combat.”

It felt like she’d just been hit in the chest because the air in her lungs disappeared in an instant. “Oh, Adrien.”

“And then my father—no, the man who sired me…”

Marinette blinked. “Your father—”

“He doesn’t deserve the term!” he snapped.

“Sorry, sorry,” she appeased. “I just… I didn’t know that you learned who he was. Your mom never told you, even though it was clear she knew.”

“He wanted her as his lover, then abandoned her when she was pregnant with me.” He growled. “But what did he expect to happen?” he shouted angrily. “Sleep with a healthy woman long enough and of course she’ll bear a child! He’s not innocent here. How dare he leave my mother to fend for herself!”

Marinette knew there was no breaking into his ranting. She could only hold his cheeks in her hands, drawing him forward enough to rest her forehead on his. She felt some of the tension leave his body.

“He could have married her,” he said, voice now weak. “Should have married her. Why did he leave us?”

His broken words wrecked Marinette’s heart. “I don’t know,” she said. “Only he knows that.”

Slowly, in that moment of silence, the words he’d spat at the king before he’d kidnapped her came back to mind. “Adrien. Your father… is he—?”

“The king?” he finished. “Yes. And no one I worked for or trained with insulted me more than him.”

“So, when you said you were going to strip him of everything…?”

His eyes locked on her. “It’s not just because he was cruel to me,” he clarified. “You know the state of the kingdom. It hasn’t changed since you left.”

She frowned. Yes, she did know the state of the kingdom. It was in a rough place for the common folk.

“His harassment was just the final straw,” Adrien finished. He then pulled away and his eyes grew hard. “And you won’t stop me, Marinette. I’ve made up my mind on this. I will see it through to completion.”

As she looked into those green eyes of his, she saw the fire blazing within them. She wasn’t sure how much she should push, or even if she could. “I’m just… hesitant.”

“You’re not the one making this decision, so whether your hesitant or not doesn’t matter.”

“For your safety.”

He scoffed, his smile bitter. “I’m a knight. My safety was never guaranteed.”

“It’s worse now.”

She was glad that bitter smirk fell away. “It doesn’t matter. What has to be done has to be done.”

She bit her lip, unsure just what she could say.

He glared at her. “Marinette, I know that look in your eyes.” He then took her chin, in his hands so ensure she couldn’t turn her gaze away from his. “There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise.”

“So I’m expected to just roll over as you impulsively—”

“It’s not impulsive,” he curtly interrupted. “Not this time. I’ve thought this out. I’ve planned it. I’m just doing what has to be done. For the sake of this kingdom, and that is overthrowing the current king.”

She sighed as she listened to his impassioned rant, unsure of what to say. “And you’ll take over for him, I assume.”

There was a flash of something in Adrien’s eyes, something that left them duller than before, like he’d cut off his soul from her. And that’s when she realized, that flash had been hurt. “Don’t you dare think I’m petty enough to try to take his throne for selfish reasons.”

“Oh, no, no,” she quickly assured, realizing just how her words had been misinterpreted. “I’m not. Not for a second. That’s not like you.”

“The fact I’m related to him by blood is of no matter to me,” he continued. “I’m doing this for the betterment of the kingdom, not because I care for the throne.”

“I know,” she promised, taking hold of his hands and squeezing them tightly. “I know you. I know that you’re not like that. I’m just worried for you and all the weight you’re shouldering.”

That fiercely cold gaze of his warmed, as though an ice had thawed out. Seems she navigated the hurt she’d inadvertently given him. “Trust me, Marinette. I have to do this. For you and me and everyone else in the kingdom.”

“Okay,” she relented. “Okay.”

…

Three days, she’d been living with Adrien in this small little house. She recognized it as the house on the corner of his mother’s parents’ property. After all, he did abscond with her here once before and almost convince her to stay with him.

He’d also kissed her more heavily that night than he ever had before.

Blushing hard, she shook her head to try to rid herself of the memory. Thankfully, he wasn’t here to catch her embarrassment. He was out again at the moment. There was a pattern during the day where he left for hours at a time, always returning before dinner but never telling her what he was up to, claiming it was for her safety. He admitted to talking to friends—that she assumed meant comrades or people he was working with, at least; she severely doubted he was doing all this alone—or writing letters, but that was all he divulged.

Everything about the two of them seemed new and fresh, like she was navigating a whole different relationship as opposed to the one they were in three years ago.

But then again, they weren’t the people they were three years ago.

That didn’t mean she loved him less. Every day they spent together reminded her more and more of just why she had fallen in love with him in the first place. Now, she just loved him differently from the way she did back then. Three days was enough to prove that he was still Adrien at his core, but unfortunately, as she’d learned, he was shattered. He’d always had a wild, reckless, impulsive edge to him. It was one of the things she’d loved about him. She’d nick-named him Chat Noir because of it, because he was like a cat: curious and always getting into trouble. He’d embraced the name, but only after she agreed to be his Lucky Ladybug.

But now… Chat Blanc…

She learned he called himself that because he was ready to wipe clean the slate of this kingdom and start over. He wanted nothing more than to overthrow the corrupt king and all the black-hearted soldiers who had done nothing but harass and abuse him. Abuse that had turned him from the boy she’d once known to a man who was crafty and calculating and constantly skeptical.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she could have stopped his transformation, but she couldn’t turn back time, meaning all she could do was to be here for him. And it worked, too. She noticed that no matter what feral state he marched into the house in, a touch from her could take the edge off the wild look in his eye.

The door opened, and Marinette spun around to face him. His posture was rigid, his shoulders set square, and his mouth tugged into a frown, just as he usually was when he returned from being out all day. So, just as she usually did, she shot him a smile. “Welcome home,” she whispered as she reached out to embrace him.

Instantly, he melted into her touch, practically collapsing against her before he had the good sense to embrace her back. “I love you,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“And I love you,” she quietly returned.

This only caused him to grab on to her tighter, like she was his lifeline and he was a dying man clinging to it. It only made him worry for him more.

“Are you doing okay?” she asked, stroking his hair soothingly.

“I have you with me,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his admission.

“One day, I’ll make you a queen,” he said. “And I’ll give you the world.”

“I don’t need the world,” she countered. “I just want you.”

“But I want to give you everything,” he said, his body tensing as he stressed his point. “You deserve it.”

She scoffed. “I don’t deserve—”

“Yes, you do,” he quickly interrupted. “You very much do.”

She sighed. “Adrien, just be careful in the process. I much prefer to have you in one piece than you tearing yourself to pieces in order to give me something. You are the treasure. Not anything else.”

His arms tightened around her, but she barely noticed, not when his lips found the spot where her neck met her shoulders. She gasped in surprise as he laid a long, lingering kiss there.  “And that’s why I’ll give you everything,” he whispered against her skin, making her shiver. He then pulled away just so that he could see her face, but his embrace never loosened. “Because no one else thinks of me as highly as you do. So mark my words, I will make you a queen. All you have to do is marry me.”

Her heart was pounding at his previous action, but her mind was still lucid enough to process his words. This again. Ever since she came, he’d been begging for her to marry him. She’d always paused him with a “Are you sure this is good timing, Adrien?”, uncertain about a lot of things. They’d only just reunited and he had so much to deal with at the moment, but she could see it wasn’t stopping him from repeatedly asking for her hand. “Why are you so insistent?”

His eyes narrowed, the green orbs growing cold. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because you have a lot on your plate right now.”

He shrugged. “Marry now, marry later; what difference does it make? I severely doubt there will be a time where I think I don’t want to marry you, so why not now?”

She sighed. “You’ve always been persistent.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” he challenged. “I love you, Marinette. I always have and always will. I want to be able to come home to you as my wife. Is that too much to ask?”

After a moment of thought, she shook her head. It came as no surprise to her why he was so persistent on the marriage issue: he was born out of wedlock, after all. She remembered that first night that he’d kissed her so heavily back when they were young that she was worried about how much he wanted of her, particularly since she felt terrified to give him everything. But he had assured her that he wouldn’t. Out of respect for her, of course, but he also said he would never take the risk of making a child out of wedlock. “I’ll never saddle my own children with the derogatory title I’m damned to carry.”

“Why do you want me so badly?” she asked. “That you’re so impatient to wait.”

His eyes darkened, a look he’d only had once before as far as she remembered. Her gut spun itself into knots instantly at the raw desire swimming in them. “I want you as my wife,” he said. “That does not change. You’re my greatest treasure, and I want to protect and provide for you. I want to give you the world. But…” He leaned forward so as to press a kiss to her forehead. She felt his nose rest on the crown of her head, not pulling away. “I am a man who currently happens to be living with a very beautiful woman who I love and adore with every ounce of my being. And my self-control is weaning.”

Blood positively rushed to her face. “Uhh…” Her voice had gotten very high pitched. “You… You want… me…” She couldn’t help it. Instantly, she buried her face in his neck.

He chuckled. “I’ll always respect your boundaries,” he purred, gently stroking her hair. “Trust me that much, but I want… want to know I’m allowed to touch you and hold you and kiss you freely and unrestrained. And eventually, when you’re ready, claim you as mine.”

His words shot jitters through her. And not bad ones, either. “Adrien…”

“But, in the end—” He forced her out of her hiding spot against his chest. “—I do want you as my wife, and all that entails. Not just the physical intimacy of it.” Again, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then began a trail down her temple to her cheek. “So please, Marinette, be my wife.”

Her heart was racing wildly and her stomach was in knots she wasn’t sure would ever come untangled. He continued his ministrations, gently peppering her face with kisses.

And then when he pulled away to look her in the eye, her heart nearly shattered at his earnest expression. His eyes wide and raw, allowing her to see his soul within, past all the anger and pain he bore. One of a little boy who just wanted affection. Wanted someone to care for him. And she…

She had always wanted to be that person for him.

“Okay.”

His eyes lit up in excitement. “Is that a yes?”

She smiled, her heart thumping in her chest and butterflies flapping excitedly around in her stomach. “Yes.”

Instantly, he smashed his lips against hers, kissing them over and over and over again. Time seemed to stop as reality faded away, leaving only him and her together. Her knees were two steps from giving out on her as he stole her breath straight out of her chest time and time again.

How odd that when she was fifteen, this level of physical affection had her on edge, but now, it excited her to her very core.

Before she lost herself completely in the haze of bliss, brought on by his unending barrage of kisses to her lips and cheeks and neck, an assault that wouldn’t end even after he shoved her up against the nearest wall and began running his hands up and down her sides, she couldn’t help but think that the joy on his face that appeared the moment she’d said yes reminded her of the dorky kid she’d once known. The one she’d fallen in love with in the first place. He actually looked… happy.

I want to see you happy again, she thought as their session continued, Adrien flat out picking her up and carrying her to the bed, just like that time three years ago, only to continue pressing marks on the skin of her neck and collarbone. I want to see you as that curious Chat Noir and his bright, boisterous smile again. And if that means standing by Chat Blanc’s side for now and weathering through all the pain and suffering and anger, fighting it off with you, then I’ll gladly do it. Because more than anything,

I love you.

[morsquiesa]

five times touched for anastasia 😛

send me ‘five times touched’ for a drabble about five times my muse touched yours. 

i. “ You will get yourself killed, one of these days. ” 

Pieces of the cotton bandage scattered around the bathroom vanity, a bottle of alcohol settled next to the scissors, thin yarn and the curved needle all taken from the pharmacy two blocks down in a hurry. Dim yellow light that illuminates the small bathroom flicker, and Bianca doesn’t know if it has anything to do with Anastasia’s clenched jaw and displeased look in her eyes, hand clutching her bicep, but the blood seeps through her thin fingers. Unusually silent, but considering the situation they are in, she can hardly blame the young woman for it. She’s here for help, not for judgement, so she abandons her questions and the desperate need to reproach from a place of care, and picks up a piece of cotton, soaked in alcohol. She turns to Anastasia, but the daughter of Zeus doesn’t seem to intend on moving.

“ Let me see it,” Bianca asks, calm and steady with a tone of well-intended exhaustion to make her relent, but Anastasia sits as still as she could, gaze carefully settled on Bianca, watching her with the weight of something Bianca can’t place.

“ ‘Tasia.” She speaks slower, softer, and reaches out, her fingers remaining just an inch away from hers, gaze locked. “ Let it go, it’s gonna get infected.” 

It takes a few seconds, but her death grip eases, and Bianca replaces it with a gentler touch of hers, palm sliding beneath the bony elbow and tilting her arm to take a better look at the cut. It’s not a clean one, which makes Bianca grimace, letting the dark hair cover her expression. “ How bad is it?” Is the first thing Anastasia asks, teeth gritted through the pain she is trying to confine, and it is alone for Bianca to turn her hold into a reassuring one, thumb gently rubbing the inside of her forearm. “ Not so bad,” She hums in return, thoughtful as she studies it briefly to come up with a clearer answer. “ It needs to be cleaned up, then stitched and covered.You’ll be good after some rest and nectar.” 

 Anastasia considers, then nods slowly, which prompts Bianca to slowly start working. She proceeds to clean the wound and stitch, neither of them speak in the silence of the night except for muttered apologies with each painful gasp. 

ii. “ Do you call that an attack? How did you even survive for this long?”

“ Gods, shut up.”

Bianca gasps for air, breathless as she tumbles down to the scorching sand of the deserted arena with the foot Anastasia hooks right behind her ankle to pull, strong and combined with the swift push on her shoulders the fall becomes inevitable. She doesn’t know if the taunt she hears in Anastasia’s voice is real or if it is just an imagination of her damaged head ( with the amounts of hits she took) , but knowing the daughter of Zeus, the possibilities of being mocked is high. Especially after a defeat so easy, which paints Bianca’s face crimson with embarrassment, the effort of sparring on and off for a few hours now making it easy to dismiss, which she is thankful for.

“ Get up.” Anastasia pokes her with the tip of her blade, clearly not expecting the hard swing of Bianca’s leg, right on the pit of her knees. Anastasia joins her on the floor with a yelp, and a second later it is Bianca’s blade that rests on the hollow of her throat, one arm wrapped around her shoulders to avoid letting her turn around. “ Any better?” She asks, breathless, frustration clear in her voice after being slammed to the ground one too many that day, determined to cling to this small victory.

Maybe she’d get that satisfactory feeling, if Anastasia would’ve responded- responded in any way but the chuckle that is quick to turn into a laughter. For a second, Bianca stands there frozen, thinking if she’s missed something, if she’s made a fool of herself, but she cannot see any blank points she’s forgotten to fill when she looks back in her moves. “ If I knew a dagger in your throat would make you laugh, I’d put it there sooner.”

“ Sorry, I can’t help it,” The woman’s amused apology is more frustrating than her laughter, which Bianca responds with a roll of her eyes. “ If I knew you had such swift moves, I’d go harder on you.” Anastasia continues with selling Bianca’s words back to her, and the blade lowers with the hand that wraps around her wrist, pushing it away with no effort. “ Well done, Bianca. Let me go.” She hums nonchalantly, and Bianca doesn’t know why she lets her, and it occurs to her that she did after Anastasia steps away freely. “ Well, that was fun,” the daughter of Zeus fixes her shirt, still just as careless. “ Do you want to go another round? You need to win like nineteen times if you want to settle the debt, you gotta’ start somewhere.”

Bianca shifts her stance with exhaustion. “ You’re so hard to like sometimes.”

Anastasia smiles.

iii. “ Where have you been?”

“ Relax, I got busy-” 

“ No, where the fuck have you been?” It is rare Bianca talks to her this way, voice heavy with an anger she finds hard to contain, bright eyes burning with even brighter flames. The silence stretches between them as Anastasia probably tries to see the reason behind this unexpected greeting. “ You’ve been gone for two months,” Bianca continues, hand rubbing her face as an attempt to relieve some of the tension. “ Two months, no calls, no texts, no news, no nothing. Do you enjoy leaving me in the dark like this? Leaving me wondering if you’re okay nor not? ” 

Anastasia’s gaze softens in contrast to Bianca’s bottled up rage, and she leaves her coat in the entrance as she walks inside. “ The job in Mediterranean went south, some kids of Hermes hijacked the ship, all communication went down to the bottom of the ocean.” She sits in the arm of the couch as she carefully watches Bianca, calmly explaining the situation. “ We had no contact with anyone, we got to the land two days ago, got into the first plane we could find.” She opens her hands to the sides, a gesture Bianca thinks meant to soothe her. “ I came here straight from the airport.” 

Bianca doesn’t know if it is the straw fire of her anger that makes it easy to soothe, or if it is seeing Anastasia well after months of wondering if she had been okay, but Bianca’s shoulders eases, and she breathes shakily, burying her face in her hands and focusing on her breathing to slow down her heart. “ Okay,” She mutters, mostly to herself. “ Okay, yeah. I just...” 

 Anastasia doesn’t get up from where she is, but she doesn’t close her arms either, instead making a small gesture with a tilt of her head. “ Come here.” 

 Bianca doesn’t have the time or the patience to hesitate, so she closes the distance between them in a few wide steps, and next thing she knows her arms are thrown around Anastasia’s neck, forehead rested on her shoulder. The pair of arms that goes around her to pull her closer almost makes her fingers curl around the soft fabric of baby blue shirt. They don’t speak for a while, and Bianca lets her eyes close, Anastasia’s hands pressing to her back. “ Were you worried?” She asks eventually, and Bianca answers with a nod, mostly without thinking. “ That’s so embarrassing,” Anastasia mumbles, and Bianca responds with hitting her in the shoulder, a relieved laugh escaping her. She doesn’t have to look at Anastasia to know she’s smiling, hearing it in her voice: “ What? It’s embarrassing.” 

“ Stop talking, I’m still angry.” Bianca replies with a barely audible mutter, and Anastasia takes her time. “ There’s nothing to worry about,” She says. “ I’m back, now.” There is not a promise of it not happening again, since they both know it might, but Bianca is willing to settle for this, so she does. She rests her head on Anastasia’s shoulder, and let’s the rest of the evening go unspoken. 

iv. “ Hey, I brought you some tea.”

Bianca pads into the living room with a cup of tea, deciding to finally get out of bed after a day spent beneath the covers in her room after her last shadow travel to San Francisco, needing the sleep. Anastasia didn’t say anything when she returned, only getting her something to eat and tell her to get some rest, so they haven’t gotten a chance to speak yet, especially between Anastasia’s busy work and Bianca’s on and off drifting. But as the clock hits midnight, she’s had enough rest to get up and function, and was hoping that Anastasia would be finished with a big part of her work as she usually did by now, so she thought a cup of tea would give them some time to chat.But she realizes it is too late for that day, since Anastasia is passed out curled against the arm of the couch, disorganized paper in on the coffee table and open pens clearing stating that it hadn’t been a voluntary sleep. 

Bianca thinks if she should wake her up for a moment, then upon realizing how tired of a day she must’ve had to fall asleep like this, she decides against it. She grabs the thin covers from the armchair, and brings a pillow from her bedroom to set up the couch. “ Tasia,” She calls with a whisper in the meantime she touches the Anastasia’s shoulder, but there is no reply. Bianca sighs quietly, then carefully places an arm beneath the woman to shift her, making her lay down comfortably instead of spending the rest of the night in a half sitting position, an invitation for a never ending backache. She waits for a moment to see if Anastasia will wake up, but she doesn’t, mumbling something in her sleep as she turns to her other side instead, and Bianca slowly drapes the blanket over her. She stays there for a second, to see if there is anything else she needs to do, and eventually leaves the cup on the table, then closes the lights and gets back to her bedroom for the rest of the night. 

v. “ You’re looking at me like you don’t know me.”

Bianca doesn’t even know what prompted her to say it, especially in the midst of a such heated moment, with so many hurtful things said in ways that will never be forgotten. She can feel them on her skin, the familiar sting and burn of a thousand paper cuts, knowing exactly where they hurt but unable to show it, with no blood and no visible wound. She isn’t sure if it would make any difference to Anastasia, who has a look so cold in her eyes that makes Bianca question her very own existence, questioning if she was here at all, if the memories still vivid in the back of her head are a cruel diversions of her mind or if this is all Anastasia’s refusal to acknowledge them. Nevertheless, it hurts.

“ I don’t,” The reply burns, but Bianca shakes her head, glancing away with a bitter smile that curls the corners of her lips, vision blurring only for a moment with a sharp exhale. “ No, you’re wrong, you do. I know you do, stop lying to yourself. Pushing me away won’t make you forget me.” She turns back, and the defeat that darkens her visage with somberness is enough to make Anastasia stop for a moment, and even that moment gives Bianca a spark of hope. “ Why are you doing this?” She whispers, continuing with how confused and hurt she is, as she takes a few steps closer. “ I thought- I thought everything was fine,” Her voice cracks, and she gets it back under control with a heavy sigh that shudders in her chest. “ I don’t know where this is coming from. ” Anastasia doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at her either, gaze locked away out of the window, and Bianca finally reaches out, fingertips brushing against her knuckles as an attempt to both get her attention and soothe her. “ Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ Get out,” Is not the answer Bianca expects, but it is the one she gets alongside a few steps away from her. “ Get out, leave me alone.”

I’m not gonna cry, Bianca promises herself, and purses her lips together into a thin line to avoid letting it show in her expression. “ Didn’t you hear me? Get out! ” Anastasia repeats herself, louder this time, and Bianca knows there isn’t anything left for her to do. She turns around, grabs her jacket from the chair, and doesn’t spare another glance at the daughter of Zeus as she walks right into the shadows and let them embrace her. It is the the last time they see each other.