#like. its not one of those things where i can shake off that anger/disgust.

[youredreamingofroo]

I hate how I can sit there, get all sappy and cry and then moments later, just. wipe the tears away and then get,,, mad at myself for feeling like that, or disgusted. why do I do this :T

[shinsouscatpisssmell]

Chapter 1

Masterlist

"That's it? I got the good ending but why do I feel so unsatisfied with it?"

The city streets are bustling with noises from cars and trucks honking horns and screeching their tires to the clacking of people's shoes and idle chatter.

One of those people being you, (Y/N) (L/N), currently waiting at the cross walk for it to turn green so you can get back to work since its been up for a good 5 minutes since your lunch break ended.

"I only played it for the villianess anyways but in the end she died." mumbling to yourself and in truth that was truly the only reason you got hooked on the game after a Co-worker showed you the character , Sasha Evermore, who looked and acted exactly like you minus the master manipulator part. She was part of a otome game called “to catch a prince”, a game that popped out of nowhere and instantly became a hit amongst the crowd that includes you.

The weird part was as you started the game the parts with sasha would pang your heart with sadness,disgust, and anger but always written it off as indigestion or heartburn. You pitied her for some odd reason but others look at you crazy when you express this notation to them. Writing it off as just another one of your favs getters killed off to further write the protagonist’s narrative.

Sighing and holding the app down you press the tiny 'X' next to it and clicked the "delete app".

Only,it didn't delete. You repeated the same steps and still nothing. You hold it down and move it to ensure you're not crazy. that it was there. Trying one more time to do it; you never noticed how you were planted in the middle of the crosswalk. So into your own world you never heard the screams of the people who sat on the sidelines or the horn of the truck coming full speed and unable to hit the the brakes in time.

It was when you registered what was happening that is was to late. Your phone flee in the air and landed next to you with a cracked screen and fighting to stay on. Mangled body twitching in its last moment as people gather to gaze upon you like an animal in the zoo. Some calling the police and the trucker sputtering out apologizes. No one saw your eyes flicker to your screen that miraculously light up with a single message and angelic voice to accompany it " @яε ¥ꪮʊ яε@∂¥ ⊥ꪮ εҳ⊥я@ḉ⊥ ¥ꪮʊя яεṽεηɠε, ʟꪮ⊥⊥ʟε ꪮηε?"

Your brain bloated and swollen from impact that you couldn't recognize the familiar warm voice. It was in a instant your phone began to shake and shoot out a beam of white light that sucks you in as you succumb to darkness.

ꕥꕥꕥꕥ

"He...llo? Hello~?"

Groaning in response and holding your head trying to register what is happening. Slowly blinking trying to adjust to the light in the room.

"You're finally up?" the soft voice next to you speaks sweetly to you as the clanking of cups and bowls hit eachother until they meet a bedside table.

Sitting up and looking over you are met with the sight of a long blue haired that framed a round brown woman. Her eyes are the darkest purple that had literal stars in place of pupils and her smile she stares at you with is the brightest stunning white. She stands in some sort of white sheer dress showing off her cleavage while she tilts forward to hand you the bowl of food.

You take it hesitantly and look from the bowl back up to the large woman a few times waiting for her to tell you that you're in heaven but nothing was said. The only thing you saw was her child like innocent aura as she stays seated close to the large bed you laid upon watching as she's aswaits for you're approval.

"I'm sorry but who are you… Where am I? Wasn't I...dead?" You push the ceramic bowl away and the feel of the deflation of the atmosphere around the woman's.

"oh? I um—I am sorry," she pokes her pointer fingers together and puffs out her cheeks, " I got caught up with meeting my favorite person and I didn't bother to introduce myself. My name is Hesitia . I am the entity that brought you back to life...twice. Kind of hurt that my idol doesn't remember me." She snaps her fingers making the bowl disappear.

"Brought back? Died twice?" You could see her nod her head to confirm your mini question, " what do you mean by idol? No wait, How did I die twice?"

"That's a lot to explain. Come,let me show you." She stands at her full height of 7'2 while pushing her hair behind her ears while extending a hand out to you.

Taking it without hesitation. Being determined to find out anwsers as you get pulled to your feet. Not expecting to be wearing the same sheer white gown as the large woman but more tailored to your size.

She brings you to an open space that has tall and pristine pillars surrounding the large area. She pulls you into her side and drape her arm over your shoulder.

"You have no sense of personal space ,huh?" you ask peeking up at her.

"nope," she giggles and pops her 'p'," now shush and watch." Waving her hand the area goes pitch black except two large orbs that held two human beings wrapped up in themselves. Hesitia and yourself walk up to them your steps illumanting one by one all the way.

You put your hand against the one you couldn’t recognize with such care and stare at it with awe, " is that...me?" You look back at the brown skinned deity with stars in your eyes.

"Yes,those are both versions of yourself. Right now your soul is preserved in this room I created when you first died," she puts a hand on your  shoulder as if she knew the next question, " like I've stated before this isn't your first time being dead, my little one. The first you had met a unfair end. To make is simplier, Have you ever heard of the woman Sasha evermore?"

"You mean the villainess from how to capture a prince?"

"precisely,lovely.  Except sasha is actually you. I made the game for you not to forget where you started. But I guess now that I say it out loud, its confusing and complicated. I'm still new to the whole resurrection plot. I was just so excited to meet my idol." She scratches her cheek in embarrassment.

"how can there be two of me? And how am I your idol?"

" well I've been assigned to watch over you since I came out of goddess training ,hehe. You were so powerful and demanding in everything you did since you were born. It made me become quite a fangirl," she giggles," how there is two of you is like what I stated before. Your first life you had died by your one true ,love. So in love you had choose to walk down the road of being naive and oblivious to his actions.Personally,He was not my cup of tea but sadly I can’t interfere. That’s a Different department and lots of paperwork I don’t wanna do. But to sum up the rest you were put to death after being framed and I as your personal goddess and guardian chose to strike a deal with you."

" Can I ask what deal former me made?"

" of course!" She claps her hands together and pulling them apart as a golden contract is constructed in the space," when I brought your soul here the first time. You told me you wanted revenge on those who wronged you. Your heart was tainted black and as the rules state I needed you to have a pure and clean one in order to make that happen.  But since you are my #1 I slightly bent the rules with some help, “she leans in to whisper yell , between you and me I owe favors to a lot of my older sisters.” She squished the golden paper making it disappear.

"So am I officially dead now?"

"No you aren't dead, silly. What would happen to the story! I just had to wipe your memories and put you in your once current timeline to make your heart pure again. Sorry about the truck. I couldn’t think of another way,but now what I can finally do," she gathers you in a hug and squeezes you letting your feet dangle off the ground, " is send you back to before you met your unfortunate demise by that vile woman."

"Vile woman?"

"Tut tut. I can't give away to much information or I'd get in trouble with the big guy upstairs." the dark space disappear and restore the room to its originality as she carries you back to the bed.

"I'm going to put you back to sleep because I can’t keep you here for long but when you awake you should be back in your past self’s body and you should retain memories from your modern self and this conversation. As I can not interfere I can only allow you to have a few memories of your previous life. The rest you will have to discover over time. Now you might feel a bit dizzy it’s a side effect of gaining your past memories,” she places a kiss on your forehead, “Please remember I'll be with you, (y/n) and will check in on you."

It was her final words to you before putting you back in a state of slumber.memories from a being you couldn't remember come back to you like a train hitting you.

"lady (y/n), you are to ne the betroth to prince izuku Midoriya." You at a young age are holding hands with a green haired boy that looks to be of the same age.

"She pushed me down, Zuku" the green haired boy is now holding a brown haired girl closely to him as you’re on the ground. In a crowded place.

"Disgusting vile woman. Such a title for an orphan" this time you’re in a col dripping wet cell. Chains bounding your legs and hands together as a older man shoos away the knight that was guarding it.

Your eyes shoot open to light shining from a large window at the side of the bed. Blinking the sleep away as you look around the decorated room. Your first instinct was to look into the mirror that is across from your bed and you remember the opening scene of the game. The pajamas where the same as the villainess in the game. You try to move from the bed to gain a closer look but a hit of wooziness and a turning stomach hits you like a bat and you fall over. You try to grab onto the bed for footing but you miss it by a inch thus making you hit your head and passing out on the ground.

Taglist(o´ω`o)ﾉ🔖: (send in an ask, comment, or dm)

Previous//masterlist//next

[astoldbyaja]

The Pink Blossom-Ch.7

The food was better than what I used to being fed before meeting Nathan. I got the leftovers of whatever my old masters didn’t want to eat. We were eating in silence, and right now I didn’t mind.

"May I ask question?" he asked, and I looked up at him before nodding.

"Yes." I answered a bit too quickly, and he nodded.

"Are you still…a slave to the American?" he asked with a hint of disgust in his tone. I was swallowing some of the rice I had in my mouth before slowly shaking my head.

"No. I am a free woman." I said, and his eyebrows pushed together in confusion.

"Then why follow that dog?" he asked roughly motioning his head toward the door. I blinked some before looking down some and then back up. I couldn’t help but look at him with mild anger.

"Because he keeps me out of chains. I am not married, and I have no ownership. Anyone can see my skin and could easily imprison me and take away my freedom. Nathan bought me for his wife and child and when they passed, he set me free. But my family are still slaves on the plantation I was born on. If I went off on my own, my survival would be in danger. That is why I follow him, because he treats me like a human being and not like a dog. Because in my world, I am not a human." I explained before looking back down at the bowl rice I was eating. "It's one thing to be a white woman but being an African slave, oh you can do anything to us, and we suffer in silence."

Ujio just stared at me with deep eyes as he was entranced in my story, and I just shook my head.

"I along with a few other young girls were called 'mounting horses' by my master. When I was only fifteen, he broke me, and I let him so I wouldn't be killed." I said shaking my head my body shaking at the thoughts of the past. "So that's why I follow the American dog, because to him, I have a name and it’s Grace."

Ujio just stared at me, and I could see the mixed emotions in his eyes as if he was trying so hard not to care. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“Gomen'nasai.” he said lowly, and I tilted my head.

“What?” I asked lightly.

“I am sorry, for what you have endured and for me bringing up those memories for you.” he said lowly. I could tell he seemed to really not used to apologizing, because he looked like he was struggling.

I just shook my head wanting to forget about this conversation and keep eating.

Once when we finished eating, I asked Ujio if he would allow me to clean up with him.

“It is customary for the host to clean.” he said. I shrugged some.

“Well, you did take the time to prepare this, the least I could do is help clean up, if you would show me.” I replied. He looked me over as if unsure before nodding.

“Hai. Yes.” he replied. I smiled and nodded before gathering the bowls of food with him and following him to the back of the lodge. We discarded the food, and he showed me a small stream where he collected water in a wooden pale and then we sat on the wooden porch behind his lodge and began to clean the bowls. It was a quiet task one I would usually sing or hum during, so I did. I hummed softly, and Ujio seemed shocked by this. I glanced at him and grinned as I kept singing and cleaning. After a while of just gazing at me, I noticed Ujio’s eyes drifted to my head.

“How is it that you get your hair that way?” he asked. I looked at him and then upward.

“I don’t. It curls this way because my people were made this way.” I replied.

“All African hair twirls like that?” he asked. I grinned.

“Some yes. I don’t know how it is in Africa, but I can imagine it is the same.” I replied. He nodded slowly.

“Have you ever been to Africa?” he asked. My hand cleaning of the pan with the brush slowed in its movement.

“No. Many Africans have never seen the land our ancestors are from due to slavery.” I replied. He winced and then frowned.

“A barbaric people.” he said. I sighed.

“Slaves have been made upon many. It is the nature of man to own and kill.” I replied. Ujio shook his head.

“Maybe the American nature, but not our way, not the samurai.” I replied. I nodded facing him some.

“I don’t know the way of the samurai let alone Japan’s ways, why is Katsumoto and your people rebelling against the emperor?” I asked curiously. Ujio eyed me some and I tilted my head curiously.

“Because the emperor wants to completely erase our heritage due to his mind being poisoned by American greed. I believe Japan should move forward- progress, but not in this way where many will suffer.” he replied strongly. I nodded slowly and looked out to the people slowly moving into their homes.

“This place, Japan it is beautiful. I think it's beautiful you know your ancestry- where you come from. I was robbed of that life in Africa. I hope wherever my journey takes me, the land will be safe for those who look like me. I can marry and have a family.” I replied. Ujio watched me as I spoke and grunted slowly.

“The gods will bring you to the place you are meant to be.” he said. Gods? He believes in more gods. I looked at him curiously.

“Gods? You believe there is more than one God?” I asked. He chuckled now.

“Of course. There are many spiritual deities. How many do Americans believe in?” he asked. I grinned.

“The majority believe there is only one God.” I replied. Now he barked out a laugh, something I didn’t think the tough samurai was able to do. The booming laughter surprised.

“One? Americans, I will never understand them.” he said. I only smiled watching him for a moment. His genuine laughter was almost pleasant to hear. “Tell me, do you think those born in Africa believed in one God?”

I looked at him and then looked up in thought.

“Now that I think about it, I do not know. They probably believe in many Gods too.” I replied. He nodded.

“One God cannot handle the stress of this place alone.” he said. I nodded slowly in thought. I have only been raised to believe Jesus is the one and only. But then again, Christianity was beaten into me. I never imagined thinking of another God.

After we finished cleaning, I thanked him once more for the meal before turning in for the night. But there would be no sleeping for me. Speaking the truths about my past have opened up nightmares I tried to block away forever. I was on my back staring up at the ceiling in a black kimono and I just stared into space. I turned my head to look at my wrist and immediately I heard screaming in my head. I remember my wrists being restrained and I was screaming and crying as they laughed above me.

They ripped my clothes off and would take turns one by one. I wanted to roll on my back, but the pain from that position haunted me as well, and I felt I could no longer be on the ground. I was panting hard when I sat up and just stood up unable to be alone. I needed to see Nathan, and I needed to see him now. Without thought of my safety, I swung the door open and just moved down the hall looking for the door that would lead me outside. There were some lamps I could see through windows, and I just followed them trying to remember if I was going in the right direction. I then found a door opening, so I quietly began to open it. I didn't want Ujio to hear me, so I held my breath and took my time sliding it open and I was met with mild light and for a split second my mind told me I was free.

But when I had the door open, I saw I was not outside but in another room with more cots and blankets and weapons. I noticed how warm it was from the open windows and it smelled nicer in here, but then looking down at the blankets, I could see Ujio beneath them and he was still and breathing evenly and silently.

His shoulders were bare above the covers so I had to assume he was not wearing anything. I blinked watching him roll on his side, his back facing me. I paused for a moment observing the curves of his body, the muscles rippled even in his sleep. His hair was down and flowing and even when asleep he looked so primal- so feral. I should have closed the door and left, but seeing his back, I could see scars that looked faded, but all I could think about were whips hitting smooth skin. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the sound of whips cracking against flesh. What had he endured?

I felt a bit drawn to the sight of him now and I didn't know why. I slowly stepped inside the room and wondered what the story was behind his scars. I stepped further inside, no longer caring about being quiet. If he wakes up, then he wakes up and I wouldn't care. I felt he would have to do; he would have to give me comfort with my nightmares in Nathan's place. He always knew how to soothe me when I had my nightmares as I would soothe him when he had his.

I knew where Nathan was and I knew there was no way I would get to him alive. Anyone who saw me outside would think I was trying to escape and may have attacked their military leader. I didn't care right now; I needed the touch of someone who wouldn't hurt me. Nathan wouldn't, and I had to tell myself Ujio wouldn't either.

By now I was standing right beside Ujio, staring down at his face. My body has blocked the moon's rays from his face and I could see his eyes shutting tighter as if noticing this. He must have been use to the lights of outside because now he was starting to stir. His eyes opened and they were glazed until he looked up, and immediately I found my legs being swept up from under me, and I was dragged beneath Ujio's body, a sharp blade pressing against my throat causing me to panic. He shouted something above me, and I just stared at him unable to understand.

"What are you doing, Grasuh! Trying kill me!" he shouted.

"Do you see a weapon in my hand?" I asked. He growled, his body heat radiating off of mine.

"Do not be coy! What are you doing in my room?" he asked now raising the blade back as if preparing to strike me. I opened my mouth some, but his hand gripped my throat causing me to gasp sharply, but my airway was not closed.

"SPEAK!" I choked out now and looked at him.

"I was going to see, Nathan! The American!" I cried out. He growled, his eyes showing the familiar anger and hatred I had seen when I first met him.

"Trying to escape with the insolent dog!" he asked raising the knife even higher as if not planning to wait for a response.

"No to seek comfort!" I yelled out, and he paused now staring down at me as if confused. I finally realized how strong the silent samurai was. He body was heavy above mine, and I could fully see and feel that he was naked above me. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and I just stared up at him as he observed my face. Slowly he leaned back from me, but his gaze was still cautious.

"Grasuh… I thought you would have understood, if only a little, that I do not intend to hurt you." he said, his tone thick. I shook my head, eyes weakening as I felt my face grow warmth with the oncoming tears.

"Don't you see you already did." I said, and now he looked utterly confused as if I had spoken another language. "You brought back memories of my past at dinner time… memories that make me wish I was dead and only Nathan could make me feel better, make me feel safe- protected. I needed to see him, because he knew what to do."

I felt tears slide down the sides of my eyes and into my hair. Ujio just stared down at me for a moment with dark eyes. I could tell he did not trust me, or my words and I just shook my head.

"I don't expect you to understand. How could you?" He gave a mild frown before sighing heavily and sitting up and standing up pulling me up to my feet.

"Take off kimono. I want to make sure you're not hiding any weapons." he said seriously as he moved back from me, and I was utterly still and shocked, but knew not to test him since he had the blade. I began to undo the kimono to the point that I could just open it and slowly I did expose myself to him. His eyes dropped down to my body looking it over with… fascination. But doing this was nothing new. I knew that look all too well, and decided maybe this was my doing, for coming in here to him hoping to find comfort. I brought this on myself.

 I dropped the kimono completely and Ujio's eyes widened as I did this.

"If you're going to do it then do it." I said lowly, and Ujio just shook his head staring at myself.

"That would bring dishonor to my family's name." he said and moved to grab my kimono and wrapped it around my shoulders now, and I stared up at him in shock and he just looked down at me. "That would dishonor me as a man."

I stared at him heavily confused on why he rejected me.

“Is it because I am a negress? Am I that hideous to look at?” I asked. I wanted honesty and I knew Ujio would give that to me. He had no reason to spare my feelings. Maybe hearing him think I was ugly would give me comfort that maybe no man in this village would ever take advantage of me in that way.

I didn’t realize I let my eyes wander to the side as to not keep eye contact. Ujio suddenly grabbed his blanket and quickly wrapped it around his waist. I looked at him waiting for his answer.

“You are not hideous, Grasuh. You are far from it. But just because I think you are beautiful; does not mean I would ever hurt you in this way.” he said. I stared at him completely stunned. He called me beautiful and finally he realized what he had said too. He looked almost embarrassed and quickly turned from me.

“Go back to your room! It is too late to see the American dog!” he snapped.

I winced at the sharpness in his voice, but I knew one thing, I was exhausted, and I wanted to sleep but not alone. I shook my head.

"I don't want to sleep alone." I pled softly. Ujio was quiet and still, and I was unsure if he truly heard me.

“I sleep bare.” he said as if trying to dissuade me. I looked at his back still taking note of the scars and I nodded.

“I have self-control, I won’t try and force myself on you.” I said. Immediately I heard a low groan escape him which I assumed was a growl of anger. As if I could overpower him let alone try and assault him in that way or even injure him. I planned to beg him, but before I could get a word out, he spoke.

"Just tonight." he said roughly before opening his hand toward the other blanket on the ground.

I looked down at them before looking at him, and he just grunted and motioned for me to lie down. I placed the kimono back on and slowly lied down beneath the blankets feeling nothing but nervousness. He wasn't Nathan and Nathan would never take advantage of me. He had the right to, but he never did. Ujio has the power to and is still my captor. I lied on my side and now he joined me, and he lied on his side, his back to me, yet his thick manly musk washed over me.

It was silent and I felt too nervous to glance at him, but I was still wide awake.

“Your scars, how did you get them?” I asked rolling on my side to face his back. Ujio didn’t answer me at first, and I felt that was a sign to not say anything again.

“I was taken prisoner by a group of American businessmen long ago. They felt they could use me as entertainment.” he said coldly. I winced knowing all too well about entertaining businessmen. I knew this probably added to his hatred. I looked at the scars gently raising my hand, letting my fingertips slowly press to his flesh. When he didn’t react, I took it as permission to feel. His skin was dry and calloused as well.

“I’m sorry they hurt you.” I replied.

“I got my revenge.” he replied. I continued to run my fingers along his skin, trailing off the path of his scars and moving to gently touch his hair. “Your fingers are warm, and your skin is soft. It is… comforting.”

By now the fear and rush from earlier was gone and I was comfortable in this moment. His body heat moved onto me.

“You are warm as well.” I replied gently. I decided to let him sleep.  I had kept him up enough and I moved to roll back on my side and get comfortable under my side of the blanket.

"What does he do?" I heard him ask. I lifted my head some in confusion.

"What?" I asked.

"The dog, what does he do… to make you feel…protected?" he asked. I was not expecting his question. Maybe he wanted to make small talk before falling asleep, as if he liked to talk. I shrugged lightly finding no reason to lie.

"Mostly, we hold each other when we were hurting or in pain from the past. He'd rub my body gently soothing me, and we would talk about both light and dark subjects. On rare occasions, we would sleep together. He would make love to me and we both took solace in the fact that we had someone to care about us. " I said, and he made a low grunt. I didn't even know how to take it, so I just remained quiet on my side. I felt him shifting a bit and I knew he had faced me, because I could feel his knees and everything else grazing against the back of my body. I said nothing though because I didn't want to disturb him anymore than I had tonight.

But after feeling movement from him, I could feel his hand airlessly moving over my right leg and slowly he began to just cautiously slide his palm up and down my leg. It was awkward, but I could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric of my kimono, and I just looked down a bit with my eyes to see if I could see anything. He definitely had warm hands and even for being so calloused and rough from killing, they had a softness to them. I…liked this touch from him. It caused a light shiver to move up my body, and I ended up giving a light gasp which made him suddenly stop and move his hand muttering a low apology.

However, I quickly grabbed his hand and moved it right over my leg and I parted my legs just a bit and just placed his hand between my legs. I braced myself for him to rip away and scold me for taking advantage of his kindness to not hurt me, but instead, I felt two of his fingers find their way to my entrance and enter me. I gasped out in shock of my tightness only to have his other hand turn me around so that his lips could crash into mine.

[blithesrps]

Have some OCxCanon smut, courtesy of Damien and his co-workers-with-benefits-but-also-im-in-love-with-you relationship with Jamil. Set a couple decades post NRC.

NSFW/MDNI

It was storming. 

The rain was violent, pelting aggressively against the windows as if demanding entry. Winds rattled the glass in their casings, closed so rarely here on the coast of the Scalding Sands, and howled down the halls of the normally open air breezeways. 

Jamil was texting his daughter, standing in his kitchen and drinking a glass of wine before embarking on making dinner. It was rare he had the evening to himself, though less rare these days thanks to Copper’s greater presence at home with Kalim. Even almost two decades after the two had married, Jamil still had a hard time relaxing when he was too far from his ward. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Copper, of course, more that his body had spent so long attuned to Kalim it was still alien to set those concerns aside.

The wine helped. He’d spent so many years anxiously sober, determined to be a level headed voice of reason, that these days he found himself indulging perhaps a little too often. But whatever. He’d earned it, surely.

There are usually empty dorms right by the entrance, Jamil text his daughter, who was charmingly distressed over the lack of quiet time in Scarabia. It seems that Kalim’s culture of party and merrymaking had persisted to Asmina’s freshman year, Students want more private spaces. As a result its usually pretty quiet-

A sudden pounding on his door made Jamil jump, and he cursed as wine splashed over his hand. Irritated, he grabbed a towel, setting down the beverage and wiping himself off on his way through his hall to the front door. 

“Damien?” he said in surprise, taking in the man in front of him. He…looked like shit. Soaked to the bone and pale, with a moodiness in his eyes that didn’t reconcile with his usual easy going demeanor, “What are you-” 

Damien kissed him before he could finish, ice cold hand cupping Jamil’s jaw and pulling him in, his burning hot tongue a startling contrast. Another hand pulled at his waist, pressing their bodies tightly together. Jamil inhaled sharply, pressing his palms to Damien’s chest, swept up for a moment before sense prevailed and he shoved the man roughly off him. 

“What are you doing?” he snapped, irritated as he wiped his mouth, “You’re drunk.” 

“So are you,” Damien countered, his voice a low rumble that made Jamil’s stomach flip. He tried to grab for Jamil again but he stepped aside, giving a click of disgust with his tongue. 

“Not today, Damien,” he huffed, turning away from the man, “You should know better than to show up and-” 

Damien slammed his fist on the door, the bang startling Jamil into a silent stare. 

“Dammit, Jamil!” Damien barked, “So you’re the only one who can come to me drunk and lonely? I have to sit around waiting for you to feel like a quick fuck? I-” 

He cut himself off suddenly, his expression shifting as if finally seeing the look on Jamil’s face. A hand dragged over his face, taking with it the expression of anger and replacing it with a weariness. He gave a laugh, forced and without mirth. 

“Forget it. Sorry I troubled you, sir,” he said dryly, then turned and stormed out as suddenly as he’d blown in, slamming the door behind him. 

For a long time Jamil just stood there, stunned. Had he ever even heard Damien raise his voice before, let alone lose his temper in such a way? He reached for his glass of wine and saw his hand was shaking. Then, slowly with more purpose, he did what he always did when things didn’t make sense. He cooked. 

–

An hour later and the rain had briefly abated to a drizzle, Jamil walking through it with a hood pulled over his hair and an umbrella in his hand for good measure. It wasn’t far to The Gull’s Nest, and Jamil knew the path well. He found the door locked, but the spare key hidden in its usual place, and let himself in the empty bar. 

Well, nearly empty. Damien was right where Jamil had predicted he’d be, sitting with his muddy feet propped on one of the tables and a bottle of amber liquor in his hands. He looked up when Jamil entered, but didn’t speak, shifting his gaze back to the windows that overlooked the sea. 

Jamil locked the door behind him and approached, setting down the tupperware of hot kabsa down on the table. 

“Eat,” he ordered. Damien exhaled, and tossed him a sullen glance. 

“You’re drunk,” Jamil repeated himself, then again, softer this time, “Eat, Damien.” When the man still didn’t move, Jamil sighed. What was it about him that seemed to attract difficult men? 

He moved closer, pressing a hand on Damien’s shoulder until he could slip to straddle his lap. Silken hair fell like a curtain as he dipped to meet his mouth, kissing him slow and deep. Damien’s body tried to remain tense, to hold on to his anger, but it was a losing battle. With a ragged exhale that bordered on a moan, he softened under Jamil’s weight, wrapping his arms around the man and pulling him more tightly against his own body. 

Jamil kissed him until he felt pliable, until he knew Damien would obey his orders, no magic needed. He could feel he was hard, his thick shafting pressing up against his ass, and Jamil’s body was responding in kind, so there was a sense that he needed to act before things totally devolved. He pulled away, laughing to himself at the whining noise Damien made. 

Taking the man’s hand, Jamil led him up the stairs to his living quarters above the bar and into his bathroom. Mollified, Damien leaned against the sink and closed his eyes while Jamil started the shower, returning to strip the man of his wet clothing.

“You’re going to get sick,” he huffed, pressing his hands to Damien’s chest and feeling how cold it was. Damien took his hand and lifted it to his face instead, pressing his nose into Jamil’s palm with brows knit against a sudden threat of tears. 

“For goodness sake,” Jamil sighed, voice tender despite his scolding, and pulled Damien back down for another round of pacifying kisses. 

He allowed Damien to undress him, using his lust to draw him into the shower, where he sat the man down on his stool and returned to his lap. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jamil warned pertly, rewarded with a quiet laugh in his ear as Damien’s hands roamed over Jamil’s strong thighs, smooth ass, up his waist to flutter across his shoulder blades. Jamil meanwhile reached for Damien’s shampoo (a wretchedly cheap brand, he made a note to pick up some proper products later), and began working it through the man’s hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Damien murmured, his eyes closed in bliss as Jamil’s nails worked over his scalp. 

“Shut up,” Jamil muttered, tilting his head back and reaching for the shaving cream and razor that was kept on the shower shelf. He shaved Damien carefully, focused on his task and not on the man’s thick cock burning hot against his thigh. Damien’s own lust was revealed only in the occasional heavy swallow, the trailing thumb that slowly traced up Jamil’s shaft, fingers twisting in his long hair now heavy with water. 

“It’s the storm,” Damien rasped as Jamil washed him free of soap and shampoo, careful to avoid his eyes.

“I know,” Jamil replied, and this time when Damien leaned again for a kiss, Jamil let him. When he wrapped his arms around Jamil and stood, lifting him in his arms and wrapping his legs around his waist, he let him do that too. But when they tumbled into Damien’s bed, Jamil took control once more, pushing the man onto his back and returning to his straddle. 

Jamil slid down his body, appreciating the form that had given him a hard fucking any time he’d needed it. Damien choked out a strangled sound as Jamil’s lips pressed against the base of his shaft, dark eyes flicking up to meet Damien’s as he drew his tongue slowly up. The man choked out something that might have been Jamil’s name, might have been a prayer, might have been a curse, and he took his cock into his mouth. Quivering fingers gently brushed Jamil’s hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears as his muscles twitched with the effort of keeping from bucking deeper into his throat. 

This was not something Jamil had done often for Damien, certainly never sober, and he surprised himself with how much he enjoyed it. The feeling of flexing against his tongue, the hitched breaths, and the clear headedness on his part that allowed him to revel in every weak abandonment to pleasure he inflicted on Damien. Perhaps, Jamil admitted to himself as he took Damien to the base and listened to the resulting cry of pleasure, he should do this more often. 

But for now he sensed Damien’s patience was at its end, and if Jamil were honest with himself so was his own. He pulled off with a slurp that would have mortified him had it been before anyone else, and moved to reach for the oils he knew were kept at Damien’s bedside. The man took the opportunity to grab Jamil and kiss his throat, teeth tracing down his shoulder and hot tongue lapping across his nipples.

“Impatient…” Jamil panted, slicking oils over Damien’s shaft. Damien mumbled something against Jamil’s ear, and he laughed despite himself at the incoherence. Damien Steeltongue resorted to delirious mumblings at his hands. 

“Very well, since you behaved,” he teased, and at last eased his hips down to take Damien inside of him. 

“Gods,” Damien groaned, squeezing Jamil’s hips and pressing up with his own, watching Jamil’s lashes flutter at the sudden full feeling. Suddenly he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, rolling them with a flex and nearly knocking the breath from Jamil with a fresh thrust into him.

“Dami-” Jamil tried to protest but was cut off by a rough gasp of pleasure, nails digging into Damien’s shoulder as the man ground down into him. He tried to say ‘stop’ but what came out was, “Harder.”

Damien kissed him and obeyed, moaning against Jamil’s tongue as he rutted into him like a man possessed. Jamil suddenly felt like the drunk one, pleasure racking through his core and leaving him panting lewdly into Damien’s mouth. A strong hand had pinned one thigh to the bed, and Jamil could see with every thrust how Damien stretched and filled him. He swore, pulling on Damien’s hair, biting at his shoulder, meeting his mouth in another starved kiss. Damien was breathlessly chanting his worship, a confused smattering of adoration in an array of languages barely audible over the slapping of flesh. A palm rough with calluses wrapped around Jamil’s shaft and squeezed, and he gave in, closing his eyes and crying out until Damien milked him to orgasm. 

Jamil’s ears were still ringing when Damien came himself, a snarl in his ear and a final thrust almost painful in its force as he emptied himself inside him. Damien shuddered, breathing heavily where his face was pressed into Jamil’s neck. Senses slowly returning, Jamil trailed a hand up to run through his hair there, squeezing his knees around Damien’s hips until he felt the man slowly relax his weight on top of him. 

“...Jamil…” Damien rasped, but Jamil interrupted him with a shush. He swallowed but obeyed, kissing Jamil’s shoulder softly, until his breath deepened and Jamil felt him drift into sleep. He lay awake, tracing his nails across the man’s spine, counting scars and wondering if, maybe, it might not be so terrible to have Damien call on him more often.

Outside, the storm began to rage once more. 

[thedysphoriadiaries]

Entry 5A - Mare Incontra Il Cielo (Sea Meets Sky) - 18 February 2023, 6:44pm

I was late.

Again.

...

I take after my mother. Truly.

Anyway, none of that matters. The past few hours are a blur. Words smear into drones, into acoustic fog. Expressions devolve into pink noise - the constant ringing I hear, when everything goes quiet (my birds made my hearing take a little bit of a beating).

There's only one thing I remember, and that's how I feel.

...

For as long as I remember, I have been swimming. I'm not alone. Others swim too, beside me. Others fly. Others, well, walk, for a lack of a better term.

The seas have been rough, but it doesn't stop me from looking up.

I've heard the stories, about those who would choose to forsake their wings. About those who'd choose to fly. But, I've never given them much thought.

I look up, as I have done countless times before. Up at those who fly. I look back down, to the sea, again. I'm not going to make the same mistake again, like last time.

...

A wave catches me by surprise. I go under. I gulp, expecting air. Water fills my lungs. I float, stationary, until someone pulls me out. I look up at their faceless body. Somehow, I feel their gaze bore into me, almost as if seeing something within me, that I didn't see. They swim off, and I watch the wake they leave behind, tasting disappointment.

...

I shake my head, dispelling the thought. I hate the water; it's far too salty. It smarts my eyes. It nicks and nips at my skin. I don't know how they do it. The air on my head feels sweet. What if...

What if I could fly?

I dive. As deep as I can go. I feel the water sting against my skin. I feel it lacerate my pores, but I keep going. I stop. The water slashes my every pore. It threatens to crush me in its grip. It hurts.

But I ignore it. I race to the surface, while the water burns me with its saline rage. While my joints scream.

The surface is close.

I burst out of the water. The others nearby look up at me. I taste the same disgust. The same worry. The anger.

But I don't care.

The air is sweet; welcoming. A reprieve from the constant assault of saline fury against my pores. Yet, I taste disgust. Fear. This time, it's not from my fellow swimmers.

I don't care. I take gulps, expecting it to burn, but, it doesn't. It lullays the burning. My gills burn, awakening from their slumber as they take in the air.

My fellow swimmers hated the air. It burned their gills, just as it did mine. The air is too sweet, but, not to them.

I wish I could stay up there forever. The cold splashing brings me back to reality.

...

The water burns more now, even though the sea is calm. It almost seems angry at me.

I stare, longingly, once more, at the sky. At the people who fly. I wish I could be like them.

Will it ever... come to pass?

...

Dove il mare incontra il cielo?

Where does the sea meet the sky?

When will I finally get the courage to grow my wings, and fly?

...

Note: I got this metaphor from a reddit post, only that the original poster referred to their experience as being unable to fly effortlessly, with others like them.

PS: This was kinda inspired by a song that describes how I feel, you can listen to it here:

[poppy-metal]

"The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.”

A/N: im placing this before the sexual side of their relationship begins. A prelude of sorts, if you will.

Cw: voyeurism, smut, dekus secretly dirty mouth.

All things considered izuku’s room was...not as gross as you expected a staple college aged guys dorm room to be. It was cluttered but not disgusting, posters of comics and figurines and manga and some clothes strewn about, everything kind of frenzied and haphazard. It was so incredibly deku, a secret smile pulled at your lips, even though your reasons for being here were less than innocent

He’s wearing fucking pink. Because of course he is, of course izuku is humble and comfortable in his masculinity enough to pull off a bright pink t-shirt. It hugs his chest too, and you have to wonder if literally any of his clothes fit him and the tits he decided to grow in college. His image is so utterly imposing, his smile so bright, and laugh so airy, it sends butterflies flipping through your stomach at just the sight of him and that makes you want to vomit. Your lips curl in a sneer and you’re walking towards him and the group of friends he’s talking to as if on reflex. 

Stupid, lovely deku. You knock your shoulder into his as you pass, hard enough that his books clatter and fall to the floor, scattering. And then those green eyes are on you, giving you his attention and your body feels alive, your blood cells buzzing under your skin even as he frowns. The dimples on his freckled face fall as he takes you in. Yes, you think, look at me, see me, want me. 

Out loud you say. “Watch where you’re going, stupid deku” and you’re looking at him like he’s the dirt under your shoe. He’s not. He’s the center of your universe. Your world tilts around his axis. “Pink isn’t your fucking color by the way”. it is. 

Izuku huffs. He’s past the point where he used to turn as red as a tomato and duck his head whenever you stood in front of him, but he’s still deku at the end of the day. An easy target. “If looking at me bothers you so much you could just ignore me.” He crouches down to pick up his things. His words make you itch, if you could ignore him, you wouldn’t fucking be here. Its because he exists too much, that you want to push him down so much. 

You step your manicured foot onto his notebook right as he’s about to grab it. He tugs at it, you dont budge, and he looks up at you, exasperated. “Can i have my notebook, please?” 

Why is he so fucking pretty? God, you want to throw up. You dig your heel in further, covering the flutter you feel in your chest with a practiced sneer. “I like the way you say please, deku.” You lean down a little, “Say ‘your highness’ and i’ll move” 

It’s a thrill, seeing the way his jaw sets, his brow furrows, his eyes go annoyed. Sweet, sweet, friendly izuku. You’re the only one he looks at like this, like he wants to throttle you. But he won’t. You see his adams apple bob, his cheeks dust pink, even as he glares. “No” 

You pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten snippy with you, but the conviction behind it is new. You feel something in your stomach give a jump, your blood thrumming in your ears. You jerk your foot towards you, sliding his notebook out from his hands and standing completely on top of it with both your feet now. Your sticky lips, glossy and plump, spread into a mocking grin, “No? Do i need to slam you into some lockers and take you lunch money?” You feel a thousand feet tall, towering above him still kneeling, you on the high ground, looking down at him below you, where he can’t reach you. Can’t ever see the truth. “C’mon pansy, you’re already on your knees anyway” 

But he isn’t anymore. He jerks to a stand, and now he’s taller than you, but you puff your chest out, not letting that affect you. It always affects you. Not that he knows or ever notices. Your eyes are widening when he steps forward so you’re practically nose to nose and chest to chest. “I don’t have time for you” he snaps, irritated. And then he’s stepping away as suddenly as he stepped up, the rest of his things gathered in his arms, he shakes his head at you, a tendril of that mossy mousey hair falling into his eyes. “I gotta get to class” 

And then he’s gone, brushing by you, disengaging. You stand there, your breath stuck in your chest, not moving. ‘I dont have time for you’ over and over again rings through your head like a mantra. You step off his notebook robotically and kick it across the floor. It bangs against a wall and you feel your fists clench, nail beds digging into your palms harshly. ‘I dont have time for you’ 

You turn on your heel, away from the direction of your class, fury blinding you. Anger in place of humiliation, vindication in place of being humbled. You don’t know what crawled up his ass and made him think he was above you all the sudden, but you weren’t having it, not the fuck at all. 

And that’s how you found yourself snooping through izukus dorm, with the intention of finding some kind of dirt, or something to hold over his stupid head. He didn’t have time for you? How dare he act like he was better than you, like he had things more important to do than to indulge you. You were still so mad you wanted to throw a tantrum, kick and scream and claw his eyes out. Straddle his stupid broad waist and shake him until all he saw was you, you, you. 

You really hated him. Hated that because of him you were basically a bully because any attention from him was attention you thrived and lived under. Maybe if you weren’t so prideful, so disgusted by the weakness of your own gooey emotions for him, you would have tried to be the center of his attention in a nicer way, but as it was you were in too deep. This was the sick game you played, and losing wasn’t an option. 

You hated how much that made you similar to bakugou in a way. You didn’t like that guy, and even weirdly so, you wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for the way he treated and talked to izuku. Was it jealousy or possesivness that drove you to want to be the only one who could rile izuku? You wondered, sometimes, if bakugou felt the same way about you. 

It was the loss of control, for you. Better yet, it was the way you liked the loss of that control. You had always prided yourself on being strong willed and a perfectionist. But whenever your eyes so much as grazed izukus, all your emotions went rattling around your stomach in sick twisted ways, giving you goosebumps, making you...nervous. It was a crush that had turned into an obsession, wasn’t it? And you wanted to make izuku suffer not only for invoking those messy feelings, but for not seeming to return them as well. If he couldn’t love you or want you romantically or sexually, you’d force yourself onto his radar and into his head until thinking about anyone else was impossible. Until you squirmed under his skin as much as he squirmed under yours. 

Acting like you didnt exist was unacceptable. Obviously you’d slacked off on your taunts and actions, if he could just brush past you so easily, not taking your bait. You needed to even the playing field again, and by even you meant you needed to be towering above him again. 

Towering over him so you dont have the time to think about how much you want to be under him, your mind whispers at you as you pick through his room, trying to find anything incripting. Someone like izuku would probably have something utterly embarrassing like a diary or some weird porn magazines, shameless, helpless guy that he was. 

You huff as you open his drawer next to his bedside, nearly slamming it back shut in shock at what you see there. 

You’re not stupid. You’re a healthy, young woman with an active sexual imagination and access to the world wide web, to porn. 

Izuku has a fleshlight in his drawer. Izuku has a sexytoy. Izuku. And its green. 

Izuku has a sex toy that he probably uses. That he probably sticks his cock into and moves- 

An absurd laugh barks out of you, shocked and helpless. Because while in your head you knew izuku had to be some kind pervert, what other explanation was there for the way he blushed and darted his gaze around like a ping pong ball whenever you leaned forward and get caught a glimpse under your blouse, this is...unexpected. Imagining izuku in explicit scenarios, doing lewd things, it was something you didn’t allow your mind to wonder to often over. You didn’t like the way you got all squirmy and meek whenever you thought too long about izuku without clothes. 

You feel kind of squirmy now, hot and uncomfortable as you shift around and try to gather your wits back about you. Revenge, that’s what you’re here for. 

With a shaky exhale you turn away from his dresser, your thoughts flitting around your head like annoying gnats. What, who, does he think about when he…? What does he look like? What does his...c- You shake your head, slap your cheeks, trying to center yourself from the images floating around, flustering you and distracting you. 

You’re in the middle of lifting the covers on his bed to peek under it, see if there’s anything there, when you hear the handle on his door jiggle. You freeze, every muscle in your body locked frozen like a deer in headlights as the knob twists, and then catches. Right. You’d picked the lock with one of your hair clips and then made sure to lock it again behind you just in case something like this happened. And by the, “Ugh” on the other side of the door, yep that’s definitely izuku. You’re shoved out of your shocked state, and bolting for his closet door as you hear the jingle of his keys twist in the lock, trying your best to close the door as quietly as possible behind you, it swishing shut barely a second before the door to his dorm opens and you hear him step in. 

Class must have let out early or something, you think huffily, gently rearranging yourself into a comfortable position on a pile of his clothes as he shuffles around his room. You hear the thumb of him dropping his books, the shuffle of his feet, the clutter of him taking off his shoes and the squeak of his mattress as he plops down on it. 

You tuck your knees to your chest and roll your eyes, picking at your leggings as you wonder how long you’ll have to hide before he goes to the bathroom or something so you can leave. It’s fucking stuffy in his closet already, the air hot. Your hand touches the soft fabric beneath you, realizing you’re sitting on one of his hoodies. Its too dark to see which one it is, but you imagine it as your favorite red one. Maybe you’d steal it as compensation for him making you sit and wait in his dumb closet while he probably stared at the ceiling with no thoughts in his dumb brain.

You hear him sigh, loud and dramatic, and then a muffled scream/groan into his pillow. Your lips twitch, he’s such a fucking drama queen. 

Your little smile drops off your face when you hear the sound of his drawer opening.  

Oh god. Oh no. 

Your face feels like there are embers burning under it as you hear the unmistakable sound of clothes being shucked, a zipper and and then flop, and then….a slick wet sound and a sigh of relief. 

Your eyes feel like they are bugging out of your head. Izuku is really about to fuck his fleshlight with you hiding in his closet with him none the wiser. You feel suddenly embarrassed and hot all over, hiding your face in your knees as you hear him let out a moan. A loud one. 

You’re on fire, every part of you. You don’t think you can take this, don’t think you can sit through this and listen to this, think you should just burst out of his closet and use your bravado to somehow flip the situation and make him feel humiliated for getting off in the privacy of his own room, like he’s in the wrong even though you had violated so many boundaries for even being here right now. 

You could do it too, you know. You’re good at twisting things, at powering through the complicated mess of flustered feelings izuku makes you feel and making it his fault, making him back down and cower. You could do it...you’re uncurling your legs and pushing your hands under you in the middle of getting up to do so when- 

“Fuck. ___” Your name. You freeze, for an unholy, goldy second you think you’ve been caught, that he has acquired x-ray vision and has spotted you but no. His voice isn’t surprised or upset its...breathless, airy. He moaned it. 

The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.

Heat immediately shoots between your legs, your core throbbing unbidden in reflex to the sound, helpless to stop it, to have any other reaction. Your ass plops right back down. You turn slightly towards the door, pressing your side against it, your ear smooshed against the cool wood as you listen, as if drawn under a spell. 

“You’re such…” You hear izuku pant, his voice deeper and more rough then you’ve ever heard it before. “A fucking brat” 

Wet between your legs, seeping through your panties at his words, seemingly ripped out of him. God, he sounds pissed, wrecked. He cursed. You’ve never heard izuku curse before, never, even when you’d pushed him too far. Something really was different about today. 

The slick sounds are more frequent now, steady and...and sounding like real sex you’d heard from porn before. Wet, sloppy, and slapping. Your knees knock together as you lean forward even more. There’s an invisible string pulling, tugging you forward, you want to see…

“Fucking slut” He grunts, and there’s a heavy slap, your breath catching in your fucking throat as you realize that...that must be the clap of his balls hitting the back of his fleshlight everytime he thrusts into it. “Always running your fucking mouth, looking down at me, so mean, you’re so fucking mean to me…uh..” 

The sounds of sex fill the room and you can’t take it anymore, you’re burning, burning, burning, fuck the consequnces. You hesitantly and slowly turn the handle of the closet door, letting it slide open just a crack, enough for you to peek through, to get a glimpse.

His lean muscular back is the first thing you see, he’s facing directly away from his closet, thank god but oh god, that means you see..so much. The flex of his shoulder blades under his tan skin, the smattering of freckles over his shoulder, the long slender slope of his spine as it curves down his broad back, the dimbles at the bottom of his spine, flexing as he fucks his toy. His ass, because of course izuku would have a perfect round bubble butt. There are freckles there too. 

Your eyes skate down, hungry to his large and heavy balls, low hanging and full, currently smacked right up against the base of the little pocket pussy he’s practically straddling on his bed. 

It hits you again than, that deku is imagining that toy is you, he’s imagining fucking you in this position on his bed right now, imagining its your cunt hes pounding into, and your face he’s spitting those filthy words at. 

Your hand is really moving without your permission when it slips under the band of your leggings into your panties, fingers immediately dipping between the slick folds of your pussy, silky and wet. 

“-Wet” Izuku grunts, as you dip a finger just barely inside. “Fuck, i knew you’d be so fucking soft and good inside. Such a bratty girl would have a sweet cunt attached to her, huh?” 

Fuck, where and when did izuku start speaking like this? His soft voice curling around such crude words is making you gush all over your fingers. You wish you could see the kind of face he was making when he said them. 

“Yeah, you like taking my cock don’t you, baby?” He croons and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine he’s speaking directly into your ear, behind you. His thrusts get heavier, rougher, he lifts his leg up on the bed and you see a flash of the little green toy being fucked on his cock, big and angry looking. He’s being so brutal, hammering the thing down on his dick as he hips rut to meet every downward tug. “Milk it. Milk my fucking cock you whore. Wanna- fuck, wanna hear you say my name when you cum, want you to know who’s pouding that little pussy. The loser you fucking hate, yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

Yes, you whimper in your head in answer to him, your fingers curling deep, deep, inside, fucking yourself on them in earnest. He’s so big and you only caught a glimpse, but it was enough. Enough to know he’d fucking cleave you apart if he tried to fit that monster between his legs inside your tight little pussy. But you want it, god you fucking want it. You wanna feel him splitting you open, making you cream around him, making you beg for it. Making you bleed. 

“One of these day” he says, his voice breathless but steady, even as it cracks. You know he’s close. “I’m gonna fucking snap. Im going to make you look me in the fucking eye and apologize for making me want you, and then im going to split that pussy open- fuck, im coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. Do you understand, b-bitch? Gonna fucking make you mine, yeah, take it, take your senpais cock you dirty fucking girl, ah!” 

He slumps forward, hips humping into the toy and balls spasming as he pumps it full of his cum, shuddering deeply with little aborted whimpers. “Good girl, good girl” he pants, trailing off, giving one last little jerk of his hips before stilling. 

You bite your lip so hard you draw blood to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. You pull your sticky fingers out of your cunt and shuffle back into the dark of the closet, curling in on yourself as izuku lays there, panting heavily for a few moments before moving. 

You stay stock still as you hear him get up and shuffle around, his footsteps padding into the bathroom where you hear the door click softly shut. You spring up to your feet and don’t care if you make noise as you dart out of his room and into the hallway, sprinting like a bat out of hell as you make you way to the girls dorms.

You’ll think about how to reevaluate and recoup later. Right now you just really need to get to your bed so you can rut pathetically onto your own fingers and imagine izukus fat dick breaking you open. Never in a million years did you think he had those kinds of feelings for you, and you know it changes the whole game, is a whole other level of playing field where you now know he wants you on a physical level. 

You feel powerless and lie you’re slipping again, don’t know how you’re going to point your finger at him and laugh when you know for every insult you throw his way, is another way hes fucking his toy at night, adding it as another thing to get you back for. If he ever snaps. 

If. you want it to be a when, so bad, not an if. 

You’ll make it a when. You’ll push him off the metaphorical cliff he’s teetering on to make it so. 

. 

[acapelladitty]

can we get a lil something where Crane genuinely comforts his WG during a moment of sadness? ...even just a couple of sentences... ... pretty please🥹🖤

Only cause you caught me in a good mood 😉

Eyes scanning through the email with a frantic darting motion, the words 'regret to inform you' fall heavily into your chest as your phone shakes within a trembling hand.

"Rejected! They rejected my paper!" Cringing as you hear the risen octave of your voice, you drop it once again to quote directly from the offending email. "For 'displaying a lack of relevant field data'.".

"Some kind of mistake?" A crease forming in his brow, Crane turns from his costume mannequin to give you his attention. "Your data was both well presented and relevent to your hypothesis."

"The only thing I lack is being loose. This is my punishment for slapping one of the board members hands away after he got a little too touchy at an event years ago." Recalling the incident, disgust is quick to join the anger in your chest as you cuss him out. "The bastard. I knew he would be like this. Petty old bastard."

Frustration, all-consuming in its inferno, rages within your chest and the burn extends to your eyes as your vision quickly becomes suspiciously watery. Bringing the knuckles of your thumbs to your eyes, you wipe away the wetness there as a thick lump obscures your speech.

Six months.

Six months of work.

Gone in an instant.

Watching you, Crane sniffs in distaste.

"And you would give them the satisfaction of an emotional response?"

"Well, I wasnt expecting this and I can't really do much else. What would you d-"

Cutting yourself off as the stupidity of such a question caught up with your thoughts, instead you maintain a stubborn silence as you stretch your neck up to meet his gaze through your blurred vision.

His expression is more curious than anything as he moves to stand before you and he dips to his haunches in a surprisingly fluid movement to bring himself to your eye level.

"Academia often fails to celebrate those who are most deserving. They are too enshrouded in their limited worldviews to accept much else."

"That almost sounds like a compliment." You offer blearily, the disappointment in your stomach roiling and leaving a pit in its wake.

"Hmm, maybe it is."

"You only say that because you offered insight into my work."

"I only offered insight into your work because I saw potential." Crane counters smoothly. "I do not waste my time on fools or frivolity."

His hand comes to rest on your knee, giving the joint a slight squeeze as his other hand secures itself behind your neck in a familiar embrace.

"When my endeavours went punished for their brilliance, rather than accept it, I strived to rise above their petty morality to achieve something greater. I was not to be stopped and I harmed them in kind."

"Would me wanting to hurt them surprise you?" Slipping free, the question could not be taken back now.

"No. Your fleeting aptitude for violence is one of my favourite little sparks of yours, witty girl. Almost like a kitten who wants to scratch the hand that controls her but fears that her claws will wound too deeply and she will be punished."

Distracted by the analogy, you lean your head into his wrist and enjoy the unusual physical comfort he is offering.

"Would you punish me for clawing you?"

"Of course. Spare the rod, spoil the little mouse. However, I do not object to that resilience being targeted towards more suitable candidates."

Sighing but feeling considerably more settled by the unexpected show of support, your hand comes to settle atop his as it remains on your knee.

"Don't tempt me." You mutter darkly.

[spicy-tomato]

“this sword has the blood of kings on it, look at how much of a slut you are getting off on something so evil. just a whore for me aren’t you princess? just gonna take whatever i give you even if it’s a fucking sword that’s killed hundreds. bet you love this? is my princess gonna cum around my sword? so dirty getting off from this.” and not going easy on you and just fucking you roughly with the end and rubbing your clit and making you cum over and over on it until it’s soaked and starting to run down to the blade- tomato in gg's discord.

my request is simple. FINISH IT IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEEsBRO

okay okay okay, i mixed it up a little with this one but i will do a part two if you guys want it.

pt two

You had to admit, this was an embarrassing thing to think about, but watching your boyfriend techno practice with his sword was more than turning you on. Just thinking about all the people hes killed with it, how much blood that sword has spilt was just to much for you. For a while you had imagined a good few not so clean thoughts about him and that sword, him holding it to your throat and ruining you, him fucking you with the hilt, him cutting your clothes off with it and much more. Of course, youd never tell him about these thoughts, he would laugh at you or look at you with disgust, so you held these little fantasies in your mind, saying one day you would confront him about it even though deep down you knew you never would.

“What are you thinking about, my aphrodite?” techno says as he walks back in from practicing, covered in sweat and holding his sword. You blush and look down, trying to come up with a quick excuse but drawing a blank with such a sight in front of you. He chuckles and sets his sword on the counter, your eyes dashing over to it quickly with a deep blush. “oh , are you thinking of my sword princess?” you glup and nod at his softly voiced question.

“Y-you just looked so good training….i couldnt help but watch.” you hope that would cover the glance to the sword you knew he saw you look at. He chuckles darkly and picks the sword back up, running his hand over the blade carefully, causing you to shiver as your thoughts start to carry you further from where you stand. His hand on your hip brings you back, not realizing how close he had gotten and how the sword was inches from your hand.

“Do you want me to teach you how to fight, my queen?” he takes your hand with his free one. Hes never offered to train you even when you asked in the past. You nod and he sets the hilt of the sword in your hand, still holding it as he led you outside. He leads you over to the training area before he lets go of your hand, setting up some hay bales for you to practice on. Hesitantly, you lift the sword with both hands.

“this sword has the blood of kings on it, look at how much of a slut you are getting off on something so evil. just a whore for me aren’t you princess? just gonna take whatever i give you even if it’s a fucking sword that’s killed hundreds. bet you love this? is my princess gonna cum around my sword? so dirty getting off from this.”

You practically hear those words drip from technos mouth as you look down at the sword. You drop it and cover your face quickly out of embarrassment.

“Are you okay princess?” techno says as he rushes over, his tone laced with concern. You nod, not uncovering your face until he takes your wrists in his hands carefully.

He has your hands pinned above you, only needing to use one with how small you are compared to him. He carefully moves the hilt between your legs for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Youre a fucked out and drooling mess, your cum dripping down the hilt and onto the blade of this god killer.

You can barely make eye contact with him as he carefully pulls your hands from your face, looking over it to make sure you didnt get cut. When your eyes meet his he let out a sigh of relief as he sees nothing happened to you. He picks up the sword before hugging you, the hilt of it pressed to your back as he pulls you close to his chest.

“Such a cute little whore, getting off on this until you scream. Look at how much of a mess youve made on the blade of this thing. Gonna think of you every time i take a life with it. Think of how pretty you look when it fills you up.”

You stumble back from the hug, you face blood red before you rush back into your shared house and up to the bedroom, locking the door behind you quickly. You get in the bed and curl up, covering your face from just how embarrassed you were. Techno rushes in, leaving the sword thrown on the kitchen counter as he makes his way to the room.

“You just love this dont you? Maybe this should be how i get my blade clean from now on, huh? Fuck you with it until its covered with your cum and mixed with the blood of the people ive killed? Maybe ill let phil watch, let him see how much of a whore you are even for my blade?”

“My aphroditie, please open the door. Did i do something? Please let me come in.” you shake as you unlock the door, rushing back to the bed and hiding under the blankets. “Did i do something my dearest?” he lifts the blanket to look at you.

He looks so big above you, holding you down like you were just another one of his victims. His sword in his hand as he looks at you with dark eyes. Not dark with hate or with anger, dark with lust. He looked over you like he would kill you as he undressed you with his eyes, taking his sword and--

“Princess, please tell me whats wrong.” he looked concerned and you sit up. Nows as good a time as ever....guess you might as well tell him.

[moonctzeny]

Can I request WayV reaction to you suddenly avoiding skinship/intimacy because you don't feel attractive anymore after they rejected you once? (they were tired or just not in the mood at that time)

WayV reaction - you avoid intimacy out of insecurity after they rejected your skinship

warnings: WinWin's gets a tiny bit suggestive, alcohol consumption

▪️Kun

He looked so good when he cooked. You couldn’t stop your eyes from following the veins on his arms as he cut the various vegetables in the smallest of pieces. Your fingers ached to run across their length so you let them, stroking the little hairs in the opposite direction from their growth in the meantime.

“Y/n, not now”, he whines with a strictness in his voice that has you withering away from him.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the cooking, watching Kun in silence until he finally put the dish in the oven to cook. He walks over to your seat on the countertop, fitting himself between your legs. His hands find their place on each of your shoulders, making their way down to your elbows lovingly, yet you go rigid at the feeling and back away from his touch.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“Do I annoy you sometimes?”

Kun’s eyebrows shoot up at your question, dropping his hands immediately to wrap them around your wrists instead.

“Never. What makes you think that?”

“You seemed pretty annoyed at me when you were cooking earlier”

His face stays frozen for a second, trying to figure out what exactly you were talking about. You’re taken aback when he starts to laugh light-heartedly, planting a kiss on your pouty lips.

“I didn’t tell you to stop because I didn’t like you touching me, baby. I needed you to stop because I liked it too much”

▪️Ten

You avoided his kisses like the plague. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into you, usually your nights visiting his dorm consisted of the both of you cuddling each other to death, napping in sheets that smelled of him and inviting the cats that snuggled between you. However now, the more he tried to approach you, the more you scooted away from him, and your excuses were starting to run out.

“Are you avoiding me or something?”

You shake your head negatively, avoiding eye contact so that he doesn’t see through you. But Ten is intuitive, especially when it comes to you, so he repeats the question again until he gets a sigh as an answer.

“You told me off pretty badly when I tried to kiss you an hour ago you know…”

“When I was drawing? You pushed my hand on accident and I missed like, half of my work!”

When he sees you continuing to be visibly upset at him, despite his light and teasing tone, he lifts your hand from your lap to his lips, kissing your wrist, then your palm, then your ring finger.

“I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t”, he leans over to peck your lips mid-sentence, and his voice is too soothing for you to resist him, “You know how much I love to kiss you.”

As if to prove his point he brings you closer again, and he smiles into the kiss when he feels you deepening it.

“I could taste your lips forever”

▪️WinWin

▪️WinWin

Your boyfriend was never big on skinship and you knew. You understood his paranoia of holding hands in public, even with sunglasses and a big mask covering half of his handsome face. Being a celebrity isn’t easy and you had come to terms with that, but you didn’t know he would react so coldly to you in this private party with his members being the only ones invited.

You were a little tipsy, holding on to Sicheng’s arm for stability, and admittedly you just wanted a little love from your boyfriend. Pulling his hair out of his eyes, you pucker your lips at him, waiting for a kiss that never came.

“What is up with you today? You’re all over me!”

The drive home was quiet, your whole body facing away from him, eyes staring outside the window or anywhere else but him. You weren’t angry, just sad if anything else, and Sicheng felt he had enough when you started to storm off to your shared bedroom without him. A hand on your wrist stops you abruptly.

“Why are you like this? You’ve been quiet ever since we left the party”

“Do you not find me attractive anymore?”

The filter between your brain and mouth had vanished from the alcohol, shocking Sicheng with your candor.

“What on earth makes you think that?”

“You never kiss me in front of your friends. It’s like you're embarrassed of being seen with me…”

Your boyfriend’s eyebrows furrow, almost meeting on the base of his forehead before he pushes you up against the entrance door. The kiss he initiates is full of passion and something animalistic that you’ve always thought looks good on him. It isn't long before the hands that you so desperately needed on your body before formed bruises on the skin over your hipbones.

“The reason why I don’t kiss you in public is because I won’t be able to stop, not when you always look so pretty. And then I will make you look needy and breathless and messy, just like you do right now. I don’t want anyone else to see you like this. You’re too damn beautiful. You’re mine.”

▪️Lucas

Skinship and Lucas were synonyms when it came to your relationship. He loved getting to touch you at all times, whether it was a big, suffocating hug or just his large hands on the small of your back. You were barely awake when your boyfriend came back to your apartment, his busy schedule with SuperM keeping his side of the bed colder than you’d like. He didn’t even bother to wash up, just took his clothes off and covered himself up with your shared duvet and his chest facing your own. Satisfied with his mere presence, you scoot over, and lay one arm over his waist, bringing yourself closer. It was a shock to you when he turned to the other side, unwrapping your arm in the process and letting it fall in the space between you.

You decided not to address the incident that left a sting to your heart the next morning, spending the whole day with Lucas since it was rare for him to be free of any schedules. It was absolutely lovely, from the movie you watched to the homemade food you prepared for the both of you. Until the sun set again.

“Are you going back to your dorm now?”, you ask him while doing the dishes, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe you prefer sleeping in your own bed. Alone.”

Your back is facing him but you can sense the pout forming on his handsome features. You feel his body heat as he comes closer to you and wraps his arms around you, only for you to squirm away from his hold and pat your hands dry, leaving the sink.

“What’s wrong?”, Lucas asks quietly, his eyes doubling in size.

“It’s just that last night when I tried to cuddle you to sleep you avoided me… It’s okay if you don’t want to crash here you know-”

“Babe, babe”, he starts, taking your hands in his, “I was dirty and sweaty last night. I didn’t have the energy to shower and I felt gross. I would never reject a night with you”

“Really?”

“Really. Now how about we go to bed and I give you those cuddles that I owe you?”

▪️Xiaojun

It was rare to see Xiaojun be so frustrated with anything. He’d been sitting on that same spot of the bed for hours now, guitar propped up on his lap and a blank sheet of paper in front of him. You tried to relieve his stress anyway you could, massaging his shoulders, kissing his cheek every time he sighed. And while your boyfriend accepted them at first, soon you saw him bend away from your acts of affection, so much so that you were worried about whether you have angered him.

An icky feeling weighed you down when he kept ignoring you as time went by, realizing that today was not the day you’d get the quality time you craved from your boyfriend. Quiet so as not to bother him, you start to collect your things and pack them back into your bag, the sound of the zipper finally catching Xiaojun’s attention.

“Where are you going?”

“You seem busy. I’ll come by another day”

“No no no!”, he exclaims, swiftly pulling his guitar aside, “I was looking forward to seeing you”

“Well you don’t seem to want any love from me right now. We can reschedule our date night for another time”

You didn’t expect him to jump up on his feet so quickly, neither to pull you into a hug as tight. His words come out muffled from your hair that is covering his mouth as he kisses it.

“Don’t leave, please. I’m sorry I was ignoring you”

“No, I’m sorry if I overstepped your personal space”

You soothe out the wrinkles that have formed between his pretty eyebrows with your thumb, taking a moment to appreciate his warm smile before he brings you into a long kiss.

“I’m stuck on this song that I’m writing. Maybe I just need inspiration”

▪️Hendery

“Why are you looking in the mirror so much?”

In the span of the last hour you managed to feel insecure over your hair, your skin, your choice of clothing. You thought you were being subtle when checking out yourself, the reflection only making you wanna shrink even more with every quick glance.

“Do you still find me as attractive as you did when we first met? Like do you ever get butterflies on your stomach anymore?”

“Why are you asking me this all of a sudden?”

You sigh, rubbing your face in embarrassment. Being content in yourself was a challenge on its own, even more so when your boyfriend looked like that.

“When we first started dating we were all over each other. I wouldn’t even make it past your bedroom door before you kissed me everywhere. Ten called us disgusting all the time.”

“And?”

“And now it’s been an hour since I came here and you haven’t even touched me...”

Hendery sighs, and runs his fingers through his hair defeatedly. With a soft hand motion he encourages you to come lie next to him on his bed, cupping your face before leaving a kiss on your lips.

“When we first started dating I couldn’t believe you were mine. I had this urgency in me like I had to taste as much of you as I could. Like you would slip away from my fingers, but-”

“But?”

Hendery takes your hand in his, and starts a trail of shiver-inducing kisses from your wrist up to your shoulder, so slow that you thought he’d never finish his sentence.

“But I realized that it wasn’t fair to you. I want to love you like we have a lifetime ahead, not like our time is running out. I want to love you like you deserve, and I want to take my time”

▪️Yangyang

He was playing that damn video game again. Yangyang always looked so cute when he was concentrating so heavily, lips pursed in a pout and eyes following the different players on the screen. Desperate to feel the softness of his hoodie and comfort on his embrace you come closer to him, attempting to sit on his lap.

“He’s behind you! Shoot! Shoot!” You jump up from your seat along with him, wrapping your hands around his neck to keep your balance. “Babe not now! You made me miss the screen!”

Hurt by his sharp tone and volume of his voice you start to get up, hating the burning feeling of the fresh tears that begged to escape the corners of your eyes.

Yangyang’s grip on your elbow stops you before you leave his lap, a worried look painted on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

“You know sometimes you get so into your games that you yell at me over nothing…”

His pretty face falls into a frown, whole body rigid and focused on your sad expression.

“Baby, come here”

Throwing one leg over his lap, Yangyang turns you around in his hold so that you’re facing him. His fingers pet your hair until you close your eyes in bliss, your breath slowing down until it matches his.

“You’re right. I’m so, so sorry if I said something that hurt you. Will you please stay here? You’re my lucky charm. My beautiful, lucky charm that fits right into my lap”

You smile at his sweet words, letting your head rest against his neck and enjoying the little backrubs he gave you until he felt you were fully relaxed. You easily fell asleep in his arms, your sweet dreams interrupted only from the kisses he left on your temples.

[e-vasong]

I’ve already talked about a Leverage crossover where the Hargreeves are conmen but I'm. losing it thinking about. a Leverage AU where the Leverage team sees these kids on tv, and they just go.  oh shit, that’s just fucking wrong.  (I know the timelines don’t match up but let’s pretend the umbrella kids were born a little later, or that Leverage takes place a little earlier, or something like that.  I don’t know.)

But these fucking umbrella kids show up on TV, and at first none of them are paying much attention. Not right away.  They’re busy running cons, and none of them except Hardison watch TV for fun very often.

So they’ve all heard bits and pieces about this Umbrella thing, and aren’t quite sure what to make of it.  Superhumans, huh? Eliot mutters at one point. Whatever. Our lives are already so goddamn weird.

But eventually they catch a broadcast while they’re home in between cases.  it’s playing in the background while they’re enjoying a meal together at the brewery.

The Umbrella Academy saves the day yet again! the broadcaster declares cheerily. We go now to a statement at the Louvre from their leader, Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

It’s just novel enough to catch their attention--being who they are, they all perk up at the word Louvre--and it gets them half-watching as they chat over breakfast.

It’s Parker that sees it first.  She’s Parker, so what catches her attention is actually not the fact that one of them is covered in blood, nor is it the fact that their father is calling them by numbers instead of names.  It’s the way that they stand, tense and upright.  It’s the way that the one covered in blood is trembling minutely, so fine that it’s almost imperceptible. But she notices. And she notices the way that the one to the bloodied boy’s left--the fifth one in line--leans over ever-so-subtly when their father is looking away. Whispers something with the barest movement of his lips. And then, after a moment of hesitation, he links hands with his shaking brother, twining their fingers together.  Parker knows that whisper, knows what this is. She used to do that with her brother.  Used to hold Nick’s hand, just like that, when their fosters were scaring him, trying to provide comfort even despite the fear of being caught.

It’s not long before the others follow her gaze. She’s stopped engaging in the conversation entirely, is just staring at the television with a death glare, nose wrinkled.

“Parker, baby,” Hardison says.  “That’s your angry face.”

“I’m angry,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate.

“Got it,” Hardison takes it in stride, as he always does.

Eliot’s frowning at the TV.  Unlike Parker, his eye does jump to the most obvious thing first.  To the boy, no older than eleven or twelve probably, drenched head to toe with blood.  There’s no rips in his clothing; Eliot’s pretty sure the blood isn’t his. He’s standing up straight, but his shoulders are slightly hunched.  Like he’s injured.  Broken ribs, maybe?  And he’s been taught to hide them too. He’s also not the only one with that too-stiff posture. These kids aren’t standing up straight. They’re standing at attention.  Number One, their father calls one of them, and what are those? Fucking callsigns?  

Sophie and Nate are watching too.  Their faces are carefully blank.  They aren’t happy, Parker’s pretty sure, but they’re trying not to react.

“What the hell?” Hardison says slowly.  He’s the last one to catch on, though only by a very narrow margin.  He lacks Sophie and Nate’s cynicism, and the years of personal experience Parker and Eliot have, but he’s still too smart to not figure it out almost immediately.  And he is first one to abandon the stunned stillness that’s fallen over the rest of them, pulling his laptop out of his bag, already quickly tapping away at the keys.

“This ain’t right,” Eliot says, voice a growl in his chest.  “This is--this is--it’s televised child abuse.”

Sophie makes a quiet noise of agreement then. “It is,” she says, quietly disgusted. “Those poor children.”

Nate is still staring at the screen, lips pressed flat.

“This Reginald guy looks rich,” Parker says.  Then: “Can we kill him?”

Eliot chokes on his drink.

“How is this even legal?” Sophie asks.  She sounds curious, though not particularly surprised by the grievous violation of child protection laws before her. “It’s so...blatant.”

“Sir Reginald Hargreeves,” Hardison says, no longer typing.  “He is--oh shit.” And the typing resumes, faster and a little more panicked than before.

“Hardison?” Nate prods after a moment, giving Hardison a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good,” Hardison says.  “The INTERPOL files on this guy are locked up tight though.  Almost tripped their security system there.  I didn’t, of course, but--”

“You couldn’t get in?” Eliot says, smirking.

“Yet,” Hardison says.  “Dammit, man, it’s been less than five minutes.  Give me a couple hours and that thing is mincemeat.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.  But I do see what’s going on here and,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment.  “Y’all, this is hinky.”

“Yes, I think we got that,” Nate says.  The corner of his lip twitches up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hardison says.  “This guy has got friends everywhere.  No one knows how he got the kids, but it looks like he technically bought them--”

“He what?” Sophie sounds like she’s been suckerpunched.  Parker can’t think of the last time she heard Sophie sound so shocked.

“Oh yeah.  You think that’s bad?  The numbers aren’t code names  The numbers are their name names.  Like, legally.  I just found an article that said he ordered them by how useful he thinks they are, but judging by the adoption papers it was actually in the order he, uh,” Hardison coughs, “acquired them.”

Eliot is swaying where he stands.  “Common tactic.  He’s pitting them against one another so they’ll be easier to control.  It undermines the self worth of the ones lower on the scale and makes the ones that are higher up feel obligated to do what he wants.  Son of a bitch.”

“...And it looks like he leveraged their powers as excuse to gain exemptions from child protection laws,” Hardison continues like he hasn’t been interrupted.  “Claimed their abilities meant they don’t need the same safeguards.”

“That’s bullshit!” Eliot sounds thunderous.

“I know, buddy,” Hardison reaches over blindly, waving his hand around vaguely until he finds Eliot’s shoulder.  He gives it a comforting squeeze.  “I didn’t write it.”

Eliot heaves in a shuddering breath.  “That’s just--”

“Evil,” Sophie finishes.  

“I’m inclined to agree,” Nate says.  He’s not watching the TV anymore.  He’s staring off into the middle distance, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh!” Parker perks up.  All the grief and distress that had been brewing on her face vanishes like storm clouds parting for the sun.  “Nate! Nate, are you scheming?  You look like you’re scheming.”

Nate makes a noncommittal grunt.  “It would be dangerous.”

“They’re in danger,” Sophie says softly, jerking her head in the television’s direction.

Eliot’s long-since gotten to his feet.  He’s pacing, and that’s how Parker knows he’s furious.  When Eliot is too angry to stand it, he has to move, has to find some way to handle the rage roiling under his skin.  Usually he cooks, chopping vegetables with furious aplomb.  And when he can’t cook, he paces.  

“They’re fucking child soldiers,” he says.  “I can’t--” he cuts himself off with a furious shake of the head.  I can’t believe, he was about to say, Parker thinks, but he had to stop because that’s not true.  Eliot knows better than anyone what the government--what the world does to people they find useful, whether its skill or power that makes them so.

“Y’all are behind,” Hardison says in sing-song.  “I’m already trying to burn this motherfucker down.”

“Hardison, do not tip our hand,” Nate says, snapping into his leader-voice automatically.  Parker grins.  He’s already got a plan, then.  She knew all that reluctance was just for show.  Sophie laughs, as clear and bright as the ringing of a bell, and even Eliot perks up.  

Hardison grumbles, closing his laptop and stuffing it back in his messenger bag.  

Nate is grinning a little too, though it’s that angry smile he gets sometimes when Parker knows he’s thinking about hurting bad people.  She understands.  She's wearing hers too right now.  Nate glances them all over, and for all the malice dripping off the knife’s edge of that smile, his eyes are soft.  Maybe even a little proud.

“Fine. Fine. You guys win,” Nate says, lifting his hands in defeat.  He’s putting on a show of being beleaguered, but Parker can hear the sparking anger in his voice, and oh, how could she have forgotten?  Sophie is so gently righteous, Hardison so achingly distressed, and Eliot so full of fire and fury that she almost didn’t notice Nate’s seething wrath, nearly forgot that Nate looks at every injured child in need of help and thinks of Sam.  “Everyone, get your things.  Hardison, get us some plane tickets.  Let’s go steal some children.”

“Okay, okay.  I ain’t complaining cause, like, fuck that guy,” Hardison says, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  “But stealing children?  Could you have made us sound anymore like kidnappers?”

“Hardison!”

“I’m just saying.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

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

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[book-boys-are-my-guilty-pleasure]

A Stark and her Soldier ~ Part 1

Imagine: Reuniting with Bucky when you end up helping Sam with the Flag Smashers.

Warnings: TFATWS SPOILERS! This takes place during the first two episodes of the show.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’M BACK (with a new header lol)!!! AHHHHHHHH! It’s been nearly two years but here I am… posting this makes me SO nervous, so feedback would be highly appreciated! More parts and some information about what I’m planning with this blog to follow soon! 

“You held us together – do it for them,” he paused before adding, “Promise me you’ll do it for them.”

You blinked away the tears, knowing what was coming, “I can’t promise that...”

“Y/N please,” the way he begged you with that shaking voice was nearly enough to push you over the edge.

“I-I promise.” He squeezed your hand before letting you leave.

“You’ve reached James Barnes, sorry I couldn’t take your call, please –” you hung up before the recorded message could continue, face burning with frustration. This was the 9th time you had tried calling him this week, not to mention the countless text messages.

You scoffed thinking of Steve’s last words to you, how were you supposed to hold them together when you barely held yourself together on a good day? It doesn’t make it any easier when the person you’re supposed to be holding together is so keen on letting himself fall apart.  

Every time you tried calling him, you ended up feeling furious, miserable, or like an absolute failure – usually all three. You promised Steve, you promised, and you failed. You groaned and chucked your phone across your bed.

The last time you had seen him, Steve had still been around, and you hadn’t even spoken to him since Tony’s funeral.

 You and Pepper had walked to the lake, each holding one of Morgan’s hands, and you had sat at the dock watching the arc reactor – his heart – float away, the people behind you forgotten in your grief. The weight on your heart was unbelievable, you had already lost your best friend, Natasha, and now your brother was gone.

You promised him that you wouldn’t cry at his funeral – he always knew it was inevitable – and so you sat there, sending him away with a pained smile.

You had no idea how long you had just sat there, staring at the horizon across the lake, trying to make this last moment with your brother last forever.

“Y/N?” You felt a hand squeezing your shoulder, “You should come back inside.”

“What happens now, Steve?” Your voice was softer than he had ever heard before.

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out together,” he paused for a moment before gesturing to Bucky, waiting outside the house behind him, “He wants to talk to you.”

You gave Bucky a small smile, “Hey.”

He walked over and dropped down next to you, Steve leaving the two of you to chat, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” You nodded solemnly.

He added, “For everything, Y/N… he probably wouldn’t even have wanted me here, but –”

You shook your head and took his hand, heart fluttering at the contact. You had always been attracted to him, and it had only grown with every interaction. “That wasn’t you.”

You knew your brother never blamed Bucky, you all knew how it felt to have people mess with your heads and Bucky had had the worst of it. He was furious at Steve for years, but never at Bucky – you could never bring yourself to be angry with either of them, not after the stories you grew up with. Your father had adored the soldiers and you had been one of their biggest fans, and later one of Steve’s closest friends.

There had come a point after the battle between Tony and Steve when you had become sick of all the back and forth. You were lucky enough to find an escape when T’Challa got in touch with you, offering you a chance to come to Wakanda and learn about their technology – you weren’t ashamed to admit that you were the one who contacted him to beg for it. You hadn’t known that Bucky was already there. Slowly but surely, the two of you found comfort in one another and became good friends.  

He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You should head inside, it’s getting late – I’ll see you again soon.”

He stayed true to that statement, the two of you stood with Sam and Bruce, waiting for Steve to come back after returning the stones – only to have him shatter your hearts.

You only saw Bucky in passing after that, occasionally visiting Steve at the same time – you never said a word to him, beyond a smile or a wave, and then you stopped seeing him all together. You tried, for the sake of your promise to Steve, but he never answered your calls or texts.

“We’ll figure it out together, right, thanks a lot Steve,” You muttered.

You jumped at the sound of your phone ringing, and your shoulders sank a bit when you saw Sam’s name flashing across the screen, “Hey.”

“He’s doing an interview,” You knew exactly who Sam was talking about, “Good Morning America.”

Your stomach turned, “That’s the last thing I want to see.”

“I know, I just thought I’d share my joy with someone,” Sam chuckled, “Any luck with Bucky?”

“I’m just wasting my time at this point,” You could feel the tears returning to your eyes as you said it.

“Hey, come on now, he’ll come around, he just needs some time.”

“Right…”

“Listen, I called because we have a lead, wanna join?”

“Please.”

“I hate it, his stupid face plastered on every wall, it feels like he’s mocking us.”

“Don’t you start, Y/N.”

“Seriously Sam, I get that he’s the new Cap – the fake Cap, but don’t you think that this,” You gestured to the posters around you, “is excessive?”

“It-”

“Shouldn’t have given up the shield.” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice and your face heated up with anger, you hadn’t realized it was possible to feel such contrasting emotions at the same time, but here you were. You noted that his voice was a bit hoarse and wondered if he had been sick.

“Good to see you too, Buck.”

“This is wrong.”

“So is pushing away everyone who cares about you.” He finally looked at you and you saw shame glistening in those steel blue eyes.

He said nothing before turning back to Sam, “You didn’t know that was gonna happen?”

Wow, ignoring your calls was one thing, but outright ignoring you while you stood in front of him, that caused a different kind of hurt.

You stood in silence as Sam explained where the two of you were headed, trying to push away the pounding in your head, and suddenly, you found yourself in a jet sitting next to Bucky.

“You could have answered, even once. Could’ve at least let me know that you were still alive.”

“I know,” Was all he said.

“We were friends once,” Nothing, “and I still care for you.”

“I know.”

“Four months, a full four months and I didn’t hear a single word from you, I’m going to need more than ‘I know’.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry.”

You could tell that he meant it and didn’t know what more to say, so you got up and headed towards the open door of the plane, “I’ll catch you boys on the ground.”

You watched Sam follow, and considered helping Bucky as he fell through the trees, but you decided against it. He hurt your feelings and now you could call it even.

Super soldiers? How on earth were there more super soldiers?! You didn’t have much time to ponder on the thought as you got kicked in the face by one of them and fell off the semi – definitely should have let Tony make you a helmet like he insisted.

You flew back up only to see him dropping out of a helicopter, Fake Cap, fuck.

“Looks like you guys could use some help,” Your blood boiled at the sight of his cocky grin.

You weren’t winning, and you weren’t stupid enough to continue trying, let Steve’s knock-off take care of it.

You flew off just in time to see Bucky lying on top of Sam, the latter groaned in displeasure.

“Hey, can you gentlemen save the PDA for later?” You joked, earning a glare from both of them.

With the adrenaline slowly draining from your system, the pain from the blows you took started to set in, making you dread the trek in front of you. As if on cue, you heard a horn honking and Fake Cap pulled up next to you, “It’s 20 miles to the airport, you guys need a ride.”

“I think we’re good,” You simply stated.

“You won’t make it with that limp.”

You gave him a crude smile, “I’d rather crawl.”  

They stopped and opened the door, you exchanged a look with Sam and Bucky, silently deciding to join them.

You sat between Bucky and Sam, and felt the anger and disgust radiating off of both of them with every word that was exchanged.

“Y/N Stark,” You despised the way he said your last name, like he wanted to devour you, “You are one of the original seven, I trust you know the importance of having a strong team. I’d suggest giving a word or two of advice to your friends here.”

“Did you really just compare being on a team with you two, to being on a team with the Avengers?” You glowered at him, “A word of advice Walker, you’re not Steve, you might be holding that shield, but you will never be half the Captain America that he was. So quit fucking pretending.”  

“I didn’t realize Stark’s sister had such a mouth on her,” He smirked, he knew exactly what he was doing and as much as you hated to admit it, it was working, “Vicious.”

“Go to hell.”

The ride didn’t last very long after that, and you had no complaints when Bucky demanded them to stop the car.

You opened your eyes and rolled over to see Sam still asleep on the seats across from you, and Bucky was sitting on the large crate in the middle of the jet, “Not tired?”

“Nah,” He shook his head.

You pushed yourself to your feet and hopped up next to him, “You’d think they’d make those seats a bit more comfortable considering the amount of time we spend on these things.”

He chuckled and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. After a considerable pause he turned to you, “Y/N, I meant what I said earlier, I’m sorry.”

The dark bags under his eyes were a stark contrast from the beautiful blue that you were looking into, which you noted which had lost its luster. You noticed that his voice still had a bit of that hoarseness from earlier in the day, and the dots connected. You remembered how hoarse your voice used to get when you’d wake up screaming from the nightmares after particularly rough missions. You understood why he was awake, he didn’t want you and Sam to see him like that.

You nodded, “I know, I just wish – I was worried sick about you. I know it hasn’t been easy for you Buck, but we were good friends once and I miss you.”

“I wanted to call, it’s just been tough,” He admitted, and you reached over to take his hand, only to quickly pull away as Sam woke up.

“You two okay?”

“Yeah,” You both said. You wondered if Bucky’s super soldier ability allowed him to hear the way your heartbeat picked up from that brief touch.

Your mind was racing a million miles a minute, you had barely kept the tears in listening to Isaiah’s story, both out of anger and sadness. How? How did this happen? How was this man tortured, then brushed under the rug? How did no one know about it? Why the hell did Bucky keep this from you?

Sam mirrored your pained expression, but something darker lurked beneath his eyes, you couldn’t even imagine the rage he felt. The sound of a police siren pulled you out of your thoughts.

Your anger only grew at the argument that ensued, “I am calm, what do you want? We’re just standing here talking.”

“Just give him your ID,” You glared at Bucky as the words left his mouth.

“Why the hell should he? He didn’t do anything wrong!” You growled, at the same time Sam said, “I’m not giving him shit, we were just talking.”

“Hey, hey, look, is this guy bothering you?” The officer asked you and Bucky. Your eyes widened, he can’t be serious right now.

“No, he’s not bothering us, do you know who this is?!”

You couldn’t even stand to look at the guy as his jaw dropped in shock upon realizing who Sam was, you felt your body shake with anger, and you didn’t even want to think what would have happened if Sam hadn’t been an Avenger.

The officer returned from his vehicle and turned the tables, announcing that there was a warrant out for Bucky’s arrest.

Watching him being handcuffed and put into the car shattered your heart, if the events of the day hadn’t already left you feeling nauseous, you knew this would be the nail in the coffin. All you could see was Bucky on his knees with a gun to his head nearly seven year ago when Steve barely prevented T’Challa from killing him and the four of you had been arrested – Tony had been furious with you, but it was the shame in Bucky’s eyes that had hurt you the most, and here you were, witnessing it again.

You reached over a grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed as hard as you could, desperate for a lifeline to keep you from sinking into those painful memories.

You maintained that same grip on the poor man’s hand as you sat at the police station waiting for Bucky to be bailed out, “Sam, Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about you two, I’m Dr. Raynor, I’m James’ therapist.”

The two of you shook her hand and Sam thanked her for getting Bucky out.

“That was not me –”

“Christina!” You’d recognize that voice anywhere from the way it made your skin crawl, fuck, “Good to see you again.”

You clenched your jaw to keep yourself from punching the stupid grin off of his face as he pointed to himself when Dr. Raynor asked him who authorized Bucky’s release. You knew you had a problem with constantly wanting to punch people in the face, it was a trait that ran in the family, but Walker’s face was definitely one of the most punchable ones you had seen – a good ol’ pop in the jaw wouldn’t hurt, right? Just one?

“He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up –”

That was it, that was all you were willing to hear, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting in his face and hissing, “Call him that again, and I swear to god Walker, I –”

Sam put his arm around you, hand pressed to your stomach and pulled you back, “Y/N.”

Walker simply smirked and turned back to Raynor, “Do what you have to do and send him off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I, you too Wilson, and bring your guard dog with you.”

It took everything in your power to keep from snarling at him.  

“James, condition of your release, session now,” The doctor ordered, “You two as well.”

“I’m good, I’ve been to enough therapy,” You shook your head, at the same time Sam said, “That’s okay, I’ll be out here with –”

“That wasn’t a request,” You couldn’t help but chuckle, and decided that you liked this woman.

You and Sam sat on either side of Bucky, facing Dr. Raynor as she got started. You couldn’t help but notice the way Bucky’s eyes shifted and jaw clenched as Sam tried to weasel his way out of the session, and your chest tightened. He looked so tired, and not just the ‘hasn’t slept in a few days’ tired, but more like he was tired of trying – he looked broken.

You decided in that moment that you would try, and not just for Steve, but for the man next to you who had held a piece of your heart before he even knew you, and managed steal that piece away when you had met him years later.

You realized how hard you’d have try when Bucky answered Dr. Raynor’s question with, “In my miracle, he would talk less.”

“Exactly what I was gonna say, isn’t that ironic?” You sighed, so hard.

She turned to you, mimicking the expression on your face, “Y/N, can I trust you to give me a proper answer?”

Try, Y/N, try. You saw a glimmer of hope in Raynor’s eyes as they met yours, but you simply shrugged and looked away, unable to bring yourself to open up, and she let her shoulders fall slightly.

“You guys are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul-gazing exercise. Y/N, you can sit this one out, you get along with both of them well enough.”

You rolled your eyes at the reactions from the boys, this’ll be good. You couldn’t help but chuckle as they got closer to one another, maybe I should have taken part in this exercise. They made eye contact and continued to hold it, you realized what they were doing moments before the doctor did and let out a genuine laugh – earning a glare from Raynor, don’t encourage them she seemed to say.

“James, why does Sam aggravate you? And don’t say something childish.” Your head filled with a hundred different ideas about what stupid things Bucky would come up with, only to have them fizzle away at his cheeky grin towards the doctor, followed by the lick of his lip. It left your throat dry. Snap out of it, Y/N, what’s gotten into you?

He paused for a moment, his expression changing, and turned back to Sam, “Why’d you give of that shield?”

You held your breath, you knew this was going to come up, but weren’t expecting it here. You couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky, noticing every change in his face, it becoming more pained with every word that left his mouth, and your chest tightening alongside it, until finally, “So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.”

The break in his voice cracked your heart into a million pieces. You looked up, trying to keep the tears swimming in your eyes from falling. You turned your attention towards Sam and noticed the emotion behind his glassy eyes – it was different than anything you had seen in him before, it was almost as though you could see the burden he was carrying on his shoulders, the pressure that was pushing him in every direction.

I have to fix this, you told yourself, you couldn’t stand to see them like this, I have to try.  

Your mind was roaring with thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed that Sam and Bucky had left until Raynor asked, “What would be in your miracle, Y/N?”

You snapped your head towards her, then to the door, you weighed your options and headed towards the latter. You grabbed the handle and stopped, without turning towards her you whispered, “I’d find a home again, and they’d find some happiness.”

You pulled the door open, “Y/N, I don’t think those two things have to be separate.”

Her words swam in your head until you found Bucky and Sam walking outside, Walker and Hoskins storming off in the other direction.

“What’s that all about?”

“Walker being Walker,” Sam shrugged.

“So, what now?”

“Bucky wants to talk to Zemo,” Every memory that you spent years trying to forget came flooding back: Zemo using those words to turn Bucky into the Winter Soldier, who then proceeded to trash the compound and nearly kill you and your friends; watching your family fight each other at the airport and being forced to pick a side; watching the footage of your parents dying; desperately begging your brother and the man who had become your brother not to kill one another.

“You what?!” You gasped.

“Y/N –”

You stepped between the two of them, close enough to Bucky that you had to tilt your head up to look into his eyes, and whispered, “Bucky, no.”

“This might be our only lead, Y/N,” You stared up at him, silently pleading him, he reflected the same in his own, “Please Y/N.”

He took your hand and you instantly melted, “I – fine, but promise me you will be careful.”

“I promise.”

End. 

Read Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 and Part 6

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[dreaminginvelaris]

A Response to a Feyre Anti

I made a post recently explaining the dread of having to watch Feyre be abused by her sisters and father, in the Tv adaption. And a Feyre anti made a response, to something that should not be criticized at all considering what I said was just the truth? Feyre was abused. Not only that but they went on and completely twisted the narrative to fit their own ideas and in the process made Feyre out to be cruel and Nesta a saint. complete bull.

I will not be tagging the anti bc they have me blocked (shocker), but also I do not want anyone to go after them, if you come across the post, I don't want it to be through me. it's as much respect I can give to them.

I usually do not respond to those who have something to say with a post of mine or are blatantly talking about me on their blog, unless they're just spreading absolute lies about me or what i "said", it's usually a waste of time to do so. but this post attacked Feyre with outrageous lies and a complete backward interpretation of what actually happened in acotar, so as respectful as I can be, I will be analyzing the anti-response and what truly happened in acotar.

"the audience will only see two sisters fighting-not abuse" "it’s not Nesta you need to worry about. It’s audiences calling Feyre a big dumbass and a bitch" -from anti

if the audience has basic human compassion and empathy for humans IRL or fictional, they will see what's obvious from the start. Feyres abuse. how is it going to look, when they see Feyre walking through the woods, shaking from the cold, starving from hunger, and struggling to find food for her family? only to later see Nesta's treatment of Feyre?"

in the anti's post, they said Feyre was just as "heinous" to Nesta.

is Feyre the one calling Nesta a pig? a smelly pig? ordering her to take her clothes off?

no, it's not, it's dear Nesta. the text goes as "I took my time, swallowing the words I wanted to bark at her" oh yes... how cruel of Feyre. how heinous of Feyre to...stay quiet... at the verbal abuse.

in the same image we see Feyre ask Nesta to do something (kindly might I add) and then inquire why she didn't chop wood like she needs to.

what does Nesta do? acts like a brat and insults Feyre...once again.

considering I'm going off by the story and not the actual screenplay, and assuming they stay true to the story; will the audience not be disgusted by Nesta's behavior? I mean they just saw Feyre struggle to find food and they expect Feyre to go home to a family happy and appreciative of Feyre but instead, they get this familial abuse.

the anti said Feyre basically tells Nesta this:

"If you keep bitching at everyone like this no one will want to be around you or you can’t marry this guy because you’re a waste of space to me"

but what do we see?

"Believe me... the day you want to marry someone worthy, I'll march up to his house and hand you over. But you're not going to marry Tomas."

the word worthy, did that not catch your eye? Feyre said Nesta will have to marry someone worthy, someone, who will treat Nesta kindly and give her the life Feyre thinks her sisters deserve. bc Feyre does think that IDK why anti feyres think Feyre despised Nesta so much, Feyre loved her sisters.

what the anti fails to realize here is that Nesta marrying Tomas would have been actually pretty great for Feyre. in the sense that, Feyre would no longer carry the burden of her sister. Feyre would not have to worry about feeding one more mouth. or worrying about Nesta's constant stealing of Feyre's money. Feyre does not think Nesta is a "waste of space" to her, if she did, it would have been easy for Feyre to discard Nesta, and allow her to marry Tomas. the anti has that twisted.

but that is not even the worst part of the scene. did you see the shameless slut-shaming that came out of Nesta's mouth? how will the audience take to that? do you think most of the younger generation will take it lightly to see a sister slut-shame a sister? a woman putting down another woman? in this social climate? where the feminism movement is alive and flourishing. will they be okay with it? will they still blame Feyre and be mad at her the way the anti says they will be? I hope not otherwise I'm losing faith in humanity.

Lovely words Nesta spews at Feyre. I admit Feyre should have told her then and there that Tomas is abusive. but let's think: Feyre is 19 years old, the youngest, has never had any raising by a parental figure, has been neglected by her whole family, where would Feyre learn to calmly talk to an overgrown brat like Nesta? Feyre telling Nesta who Tomas truly is the duty of a parent, not a sister. I will not condemn Feyre for not knowing that was the perfect time to tell Nesta who Tomas is. especially when Feyre is being tormented and verbally/emotionally abused, its kinda hard to think about something else while you're being told all these horrible words. to us its easy to see where Feyre went wrong but unless you're in the exact position Feyre was in. no one has any room to talk. and even then, every person is different in situations like these.

this part was me analyzing the interactions between Feyre and Nesta since anti had reasons to believe Feyre was just as bad to Nesta and that the audience would see that and hate Feyre. I am now going to respond to the second part of the Feyre Anti's response.

"How will an audience of non-fans react to her not reaching out to her family to tell them she was okay after the reconciliation between her and Nesta? Or not inviting them to the wedding?"- from anti

moving onto acomaf now.

Idk maybe the audience will see Feyre, a depressed, lonely, individual in an abusive relationship while being manipulated by other individuals she called friends, and understand and empathize with her. all throughout the beginning and half of acomaf, Feyre is in critical depression. she wholeheartedly believes she should not be alive. that she is not worthy. she doesn't eat, all she does is sleep, self-care is not important to her or others so why would letting a family know she's okay, a family who BARELY ever cared about her, be a priority? it doesn't seem like Nesta or elain or her father was really fazed by Feyre's lack of communication. her father left on a trip, elain got engaged and Nesta, well we didn't see a tearful welcoming to Feyre on Nesta's part did we?

anti, where is the outcry of her "family" not even really caring if Feyre was safe or not, of what happened to her? it's not like they thought she had died, otherwise, where was the mourning or funeral? no, they just didn't care.

see this is where I know when anti is just full of bullshit. why, WHY, would Feyre invite her family to wedding full of fae? the creatures elain and Nesta fear and hate? for all the talk many anti's spew about Feyre being inconsiderate to Nesta, to her family, you would think Feyre maybe just knows a fae wedding would be the last thing they would want? even then, does Feyre owe them an invitation to her wedding? does she owe them an update on her life? nope. Feyre owed them nothing.

"How about her shit-talking Nesta to a bunch of strangers then having the audacity to ask her to get involved in a war. Oh! This is after she comes into her house and insults their hospitality." - from anti

I hardly think Feyre confiding in individuals who she learned to care about and laying out all the trauma Feyre endured with her family is "shit-talking" but for argument's sake, let's say it is. I still don't see what's wrong? after years of pent-up anger and hurt, would you not let go of everything you withheld inside and explain what was done to you? how you felt? Feyre telling the IC her life story, which contains Nesta's abuse and her family's neglect, was a form of therapy for Feyre. I never read a line where Feyre calls Nesta a "cold-hearted bitch" or called elain "a lazy ditz" she just said the truth. no added embellishments. Cassian was the one who shit-talked Nesta during the dinner scene, never Feyre.

I still don't understand why antis are so against Feyre asking her sisters for help? like the war didn't involve them? they're humans, and you know what the war was about? Hybern wanting to take control of the human lands like they once did and turn them into slaves. those humans included Nesta and elain.

"They could have left the continent" correct, except elain was engaged and refused to leave Grayson. which meant Nesta refused to leave elain. but even so, isn't it the duty of humans to band together and work to overthrow a race of people who want to torture and keep them as slaves? the queens certainly weren't doing their jobs. Feyre asked to use "their" house to meet the queens bc where else would they do it? the queens trust the fae less than Nesta or elain did. but even so, Feyre asking to use their house was a courtesy, that house is rightfully Feyre's. she is the one who sacrificed herself to leave with Tamlin. she did it bravely, courageously, and they got that house thanks to her. they owed Feyre everything. and the only one who acknowledged that was Elain.

that war involved elain and Nesta whether they or Feyre or the anti's liked it or not. not even considering that Nesta and elain are Feyre Archerons sisters, yeah, their family name alone puts a target on their back.

How did Feyre or the court insult Elain's and Nesta's hospitality? You mean when Feyre realized human food differed from fae food? something she did not know about bc she's barely been turned to fae and only had eaten fae dishes? Feyre's grimace towards the human food was an involuntary reaction to someone who is still learning their new body. or was it when Cassian called out Nesta for her cold treatment towards Feyre? if that's the case then fuck decency, I would call out a fake bitch in my presence from minute one. you cant call what Nesta did "hospitality" when all she did was insult Feyre when she didn't even care that Feyre had died, or lost her love bc of abuse, or that her body was changed against her will.

hospitality: the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.

did y'all read something different bc this for sure was nothing Nesta gave to her guests?

----

the rest of the anti post moves towards Rhysand and his actions UTM which I won't go into because I'm mainly just addressing the false interpretations this anti had to say about Feyre and her family.

I'm not sure how to sign off now lol, but I guess just that I hope this was enough to show how this anti's arguments were completely ludicrous and have absolutely no compassion for Feyre, and instead all the compassion for Feyre's abusers. This anti had a real spin on what the actual story was, and I hope the evidence I provided was enough to show that. Anyways yeah my brain is fried, and I'm done arguing with Feyre anti's for a while now, I need to go praise my queen Feyre so I can receive some semblance of peace.

anyways, stan Feyre for clear skin xx

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

I Need You

A/N: This was found on Pinterest, so if you're the owner, let me know so I can give you the credits.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2 K

Requested by anons: 1- I'm like super in love with a certain Daryl Dixon and I was wondering if you could write about them getting into a big argument and they like avoid eachother for a while (super angsty if you care lol) and then Carol and Rick just kinda make yall talk and it ends fluffy? 2 - Can i request a daryl x reader where the reader’s been with the group since atlanta, maybe set during when they’re at the prison?? daryl realizes he has a crush on the reader and just p a n i c s ? and just really sweet fluff????

Summary: After you almost get bit, Daryl loses his mind and lashes out on you. Tired of the constant arguments, the group finds a way to out you two together to try and fix things up.

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

×

“Yer almost got bit!” Daryl shouts, voice echoing through the prison. “Yer too damn stubborn, yer not goin’ on runs anymore.” He has his back at you as you follow him, struggling to keep his pace.

“I had everything under control.” You complain, ignoring Carol's questioning stare.

You, Daryl, and Maggie went on a run earlier today. Not too far, just to get some more formula for Judith. A walker fell from the roof, and it happened to be on a specific place Daryl told you not to go. The thing's teeth got a little too close to your arm, and Daryl shot an arrow through its head.

“Ya sure did!” He stops, turning around and pointing a finger at you. “If I weren't near ya, I'd be carryin’ ya back here with a freakin’ bite.” His voice gets louder, and you never saw Daryl so... Angry. So pissed. He's scaring you. “Or would ya have me cut her damn arm off? How does that sound?”

“Stop yelling at me!” You burst out, giving his chest a push.

“I'll stop yellin’ when ya understand how stupid and dangerous that was!” He steps forward, towering over you and you never felt so small.

“We needed those antibiotics!”

“Well, I freakin’ need ya. I need ya alive! Alive and well and breathin’.” Daryl shouts, right at your face. But the moment the words come out, he stops, stepping back. He seems confused, taken aback by something. “Screw that, I need a break from savin’ yer ass.” And then, he leaves, walking fast.

Huffing, you turn around, going to your cell.

You take the longest shower you can, washing the sweat and all the disgusting things the dead left on your skin. But most of the time, you were already done, dressed, and dried. You just wanted to be away from everyone. But eventually, you have to walk out. And of course, Carol finds you on your way back to your cell.

“(Y/N), I–”

“Daryl is such an asshole.” You say cutting her off and dropping on bed. “Did you see that? Did you see how he yelled at me? As if he has the right to do so.” Getting back up you pace around.

“I just think–”

“You know what? He can go to hell.” Throwing both hands in the air, you complain. “He and his crossbow, and-and his super hot stare and the stupid angel wings vest. And the bike too. All it. Straight to hell!”

“Aren't you just–”

“Uhg! Damn it.” Crossing your arms, you sigh. “Did you hear him forbidding me to go on runs?” With your hands now on your hips, you stare at Carol. “As if! Who the hell does he think he is? My boyfriend? To hell with him.”

“Will you let me talk?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Shrugging your shoulders, you nod.

But she doesn't say anything, she just takes a deep breath and shakes her head lightly. “Look, why don't you calm down first, and then we talk.” Carol gestured at the bed and you sit down, sighing. “Good... Try to relax and deal with it after a good night's sleep.”

“I could sleep a thousand years and I'd still be mad at Daryl.” You mutter as she leaves, lying on your back with your eyes closed.

You don't know where all this anger comes from, but it's always there, waiting to flow out. You do care about him, maybe too much, but it doesn't mean he gets to yell and boss you around like that. “Asshole!” You shout one last time, arms crossing as you drown in anger.

“I saw it,” Daryl exclaims, pacing around the guard tower, breathing and talking fast. “I saw her dyin’. I saw that thing bitin’ her, tearin’ her flesh.”

“She's fine, Daryl. You don't have to keep thinking about it.” Rick tries to calm him down, both hands raised at the archer.

“No, ya don't understand.” It's useless though. Daryl is a mess. He got into the shower as soon as (Y/N) got out, rubbing the walker's blood out of his skin. But after that, he went straight to Rick because he needs to vent. He needs to yell and understand why he feels so damn scared.

Why he feels like a switch was turned on, lighting up something that was there all along, but only now was brought to light.

Losing anyone from his group, from his family would hurt bad.

But he just found out that losing her would be far worse.

“I her dyin’, man.” He slows down, both hands on his head. “I saw her dyin’ and–”

“You love her.”

“What the hell, Rick?” He snaps, a hand violently gesturing at his friend.

“You might not want to admit it, but it's true. You know it.” Rick nods, a hand casually resenting on his holster. “We all know it since Atlanta. She loves you too.”

Daryl grunts, turning his back at Rick. “Yer crazy. And so is she.”

“You should sit and talk like civilized people.”

“I ain't gonna talk to her. Crazy chick.” He mutters, grabbing his crossbow a bit tighter. “She ain't goin’ on runs anymore. At least not without me.”

“Daryl–”

“Gotta go.” The archer cuts him off, leaving the guard tower at a fast pace.

He didn't like the ideas Rick put in his head.

“Rick wants to make a room for Carl and Judith on the second floor,” Carol says as you climb the stairs next to her. “So we're cleaning up the cells.”

“Alright.” You don't really want to help. Not today at least. The nap you took didn't help much with the last issue, and you're considering going out tomorrow, just to clear your head a bit. “What do you need me to do?”

“We're just setting things up.”

“Mmm.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair as you follow her pace. Carol takes you to the very back of the corridor, to a pretty isolated cell. “You gonna put the kids here? This cell sucks. It's too–” You stop talking when you see Daryl inside, eyes-rolling. “Look, I won't help if he helps.” It sounds childish, but you don't care. You're far too pissed at the man to be near him.

“Look, I don't care if you guys argued.” Rick walks over you, friendly touching your arm. “You two just have to get your shkt together.” And you're suddenly pushed, almost stumbling inside the cell.

“What the hell?” You shout, but the moment you move, Rick pulls the bars close locking you inside. “Rick, drop it. I'm not joking.” Holding the bars, you shoot him and Carol an angry stare. “Open up.”

“There are blankets and dinner will be brought to you,” Carol says, arms crossed. “We did that because it's the only way to force you guys to talk.”

“Yeah. You'll have the whole night to figure out whatever has you both always at each other's throat.” Rick adds, sliding the key into his pocket. “Have a nice time.”

And like that, both jerks leave, talking something you can't hear. Sighing, you lay your forehead on the cold metal bars, not wanting to look at your company for the night.

“Yer can take the bed.” He says after a while.

“Obviously.” You're quick to snap. “It's your fault we're here in the first place.”

“How's that?”

“If you didn't come back from the run making a hell of a show about something that didn't even happen, we wouldn't be locked up in here.” Turning around, with both hands on your hips, you stare at him.

“If ya had listened to me, ya wouldn't have–”

“And why in the hell do I have to listen to you, Dixon? I know my way out there as well as you do.”

“ ‘Cause I jus’ wanna keep ya safe.” He's yelling again, stepping forward.

“Stop acting like I mean anything to you!” With a finger on his face, you move closer to him. You wish you could look intimidating, but being so small, that's very difficult.

“Maybe ya do mean somethin’ ta’ me! How could ya know that if ya never ask!”

“Well, I–” The answer is cut short when your furious brain processes what he just said. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you shrug your shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“Daryl, what do you mean?” Raising your voice again, you follow him as he moves further into the cell. “What would you answer if I ask?”

“I ain't gonna answer.”

“Daryl–”

“I ain't gonna answer!” He shouts again, turning around to look at you.

Taking a deep breath, you sit on the edge of the bed, folding a leg under you. “Do you hate me?”

“What?”

“Do you hate me, Daryl?” Your voice is lower now because you do want to know.

He remains silent for a while, those blue eyes locked on yours. “No.”

“Then why–”

“I can't lose ya.” He bursts out, eyes now looking at the floor. “At that moment back there, I... I saw it happenin’. I saw ya dyin’, and I... I can't lose ya. I can't see ya gettin’ hurt.”

His voice is so low you can barely hear it. You've never seen Daryl so... Scared. Vulnerable. “You can't protect me all the time, Daryl. Accidents happen.”

“I can. I can keep ya safe if ya listen to me.” You're about to protest when Daryl comes to sit next to you, eyes on the wall across the cell. “I know ya can survive out there. But my mind works in a thousand different ways ta’ get stuff done without anyone gettin’ hurt. I need ya ta’ trust me. Ta’ believe I can keep ya safe.”

“But I need you to believe me too. To believe I can do this.” Turning your body towards him, you friendly touches his arm. “Daryl, I... I like you... A lot. And I admire you, I trust you. You taught me so much and I need you to trust me. I promise I'll be more careful, but I need you to–”

“Don't go out there without me.” He suddenly says, voice heavy. “I trust ya. Yer brave and strong. But if ya go out there and I can't keep my eyes on ya... I'll lose my damn mind.”

“Alright.” Nodding, you sigh, smiling a little. “Just don't yell at me again, Daryl Dixon.”

“Yer almost died and I... Damn it, (Y/N), –”

“I like you too, Dixon.” Standing up to your feet, you smile, looking down at him. “You don't have to say if you don't want to, just... Let's get this over with. The world is a freaking mess and if you like me and I like you we should be together.” You can't believe you're saying this, after so long. But it feels good. You feel good, secure. “Just let me know what you want.”

“Ya.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blue eyes locked on yours.

“Alright.” Mirroring his head movement, you clear your throat, cheeks burning. After a few seconds of silence, you walk to the bars. “RICK! CAROL! Daryl and I are dating now, can we go?” You yell, and the low chattering downstairs goes silent.

“Would it be so bad ta' stay locked in here with me for a night?” Daryl asks, and you turn around, biting your lip to hold back a smile.

“Absolutely not.” Shrugging your shoulders, you slowly move to the bed, climbing on and lying down. “I'm actually sleepy and it's cold so it'll be nice to have someone to warm me up at night.”

“Don't push it.”

“I'm not.” Giggling, you feel as he lies down, close enough so his shoulder is touching your back. “Night, D. It was good to sort things out with you.”

“Good night, pretty girl.” He mutters and you smile, eyes closing and sleep easily overcoming you, thanks to the amazing feeling of having Daryl lying next to you.

[aminiatureworld]

Injury

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,657

Warnings: Blood, injury, slight violence, minor villain death 

 Premise: Sometimes the pain of others can hurt even more than one’s own. In which the reader is injured. 

Author’s Note: Week 3 of keeping up my writing schedule let’s go! This week is a bit angsty, my forte (I think?) As usual part one – with Albedo, Childe, and Diluc – will be posted tonight and part two – Kaeya, Xiao and Zhongli – tomorrow.

At first this was going to be both your injury and your recovery but then the first character hit over 1.5k words so I guess this is going to be a pseudo-series. I really don’t know the definition of concise lol.

In the first part of my last fic I realize I gendered a word. I’m super sorry about that, and I promise to fix it and tag properly next time. Childe gets to go into the stone forest cause I say he can. I’m not sure if waypoints are diegetic or nondiegetic. I decided to make them so. Also the first hospital in China was opened in the early 1800s, and I know hospitals aren’t very “fantasy” but Teyvat has good medical science in my book.

Albedo

Throughout his life the one thing that Albedo never truly understood was peoples’ obsession with modesty, even when it was false.

There was a lot that Albedo was proud of in regards to himself; his intellect for one, his curiosity, his abilities as an alchemist, the fact that he feared little in the world. Above all perhaps was the pride he held in carrying himself without falling into hysteria, his grip on his emotions was impeccable and whenever he was unfortunate enough to see others gripped with a heavy emotion he was always left with a sour feeling in his mouth – a disgust for someone who had so little sense they couldn’t even control themselves.

This was a pride that left him quickly enough upon seeing you injured.

It wasn’t meant to be a dangerous expedition. It’d merely been a check of the vast network of caves and tunnels that could be found in Dragonspine. A route affair, mundane even in how simple it supposedly was. There was nothing to be afraid of. Albedo had told you that back at home and you’d smiled in agreement. Yes, there was nothing to be worried of, a few hilichurls at most and a temperature that could be easily kept in check with the right preparation. You’d be there and back in less than a day, no problem.

Everything, however, had gone horribly wrong. The cave that you two intended to explore turned out to be a vast network, full of tight tunnels and half submerged under freezing water. You two had managed that well enough, although once Albedo had almost slipped and fallen into the underground river, the whole outlook of the expedition was looking drearier and drearier.

Eventually you’d reached what had seemed to be the heart of the cave, floor after floor of ice with a hole in the middle, all lit up by crystal and scarlet quartz. It was an impressive sight to be sure and you’d stood a little ways away from the edge, observing the way the light refracted off the ice coated walls, waiting for Albedo to be finished with his sampling, enjoying the awesome sight in front of you.

Albedo had just finished when you’d let out a yelp. Whirling around he saw what had captured your attention – a wild snowboar who’d managed to wander in. The two of you watched the very confused creature in awe, only staring as it stomped the ground and charged right into the wall.

That was a mistake.

All of the sudden the cavern started shaking violently. Cursing the boar for its terrible – or maybe impeccable – aim the two of you sprinted towards the exit. You’d managed to gain the lead, not bogged down by Albedo’s extensive equipment, and had turned around near the beginning of the tunnel in order to help him. Just as you were heading back one of the many icicles that lined the roof of the cave came undone, landing with a sickening thud right where your collarbone met your spine.

You’d dropped like a rock, and Albedo felt his stomach to turn water and his mind turn to static, as suddenly all logic seemed to leave him, instead replaced by dread so overpowering he seemed to lose track of his surroundings, chained to the ground by something greater than himself.

You groaned and time seemed to unfreeze itself, instead accelerating at a breakneck pace. Leaping into action Albedo immediately dropped all of his equipment, the sound of glass vials shattering muffled by the cases that held them and the panic that was gripping him. Hauling you over his back he ran through the tunnels, wincing every time you made a sound and biting his tongue every time he shimmied through a particularly tight spot and it seemed it might not let the two of you pass as you were.

He could feel the blood seeping through his gloves. Your blood. Only a few minutes ago he wasn’t even sure that icicles could make one bleed. Now he wished he’d never found out, wished that he’d never asked to explore the caves of Dragonspine, wished that you’d never agreed to it. How could he have been so foolish, so blind to the dangers that waited in vast caverns of ice and snow, where the slightest wrong movement could spell your death.

Albedo could’ve cried when he sighted the camp. Indeed he might’ve, realizing that there were frozen tears on his cheeks only after you’d been taking to the medical tent. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t noticed anything really in those terrifying moments between when you’d gotten hurt and when he’d made it to the camp. It all seemed not to exist in his mind, washed away by the emotions that had wracked his mind and body. Even now he couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the tide of emotions that was crashing into him like a wave, utterly helpless as he was thrown this way and that.

The pride that he’d clung to was in tatters, and Albedo looked upon it now in disgust. He’d been so innocent, so foolish, perhaps mercifully so. But all that was gone, and his certainty had gone with it. There was nothing left of him almost; nothing except fear and anger and worry, and Albedo wondered when he might ever feel sure of everything again.

It was cloudy when you were released, arm in a sling, brace around your shoulders. Albedo wasn’t sure how much time had passed, it had seemed like an eternity. The urge to run up to you and wrap you in the tightest hug imaginable was intense, but the sight of the brace held him back. Instead he brought you hand up to his face, kissing your palm before holding it against his cheek. You smiled at that, but there was fatigue in your eyes and you said nothing. Albedo couldn’t blame you. He moved to let go and turn towards the path, somehow feeling unworthy of holding your hand after being the cause of your predicament, but you quickly grasped his hand once more. He smiled a slightly shocked smile, but made no move to let go.

As you two walked back to Mondstadt Albedo felt himself once more flooded by negative thoughts. Lowering his gaze so he was looking at the ground he paused for a moment.

“I’m sorry.”

Albedo found his voice cracking, tears welling his eyes even as he chastised himself for how stupid he must’ve looked. You were safe, you were going to be alright, the head of the clinic had said so himself. Why then did he still feel like he might crumble any minute? Shaking his head he moved to cover his face with his hand.

“Hey.” There was still fatigue in your voice, but there was also an urgency in it. You squeezed the hand you were holding, moving so you were facing him. “Hey, is it okay if you look at me?”

Albedo moved his head up slowly. He was truly crying by now, having given up all efforts to do so otherwise. You smiled softly as his eyes met yours.

“I’m alright, okay? And you shouldn’t blame yourself for this. I doubt that even the drunkest man in Monstadt could’ve guessed a wild boar would wander in a cavern and start a cave in. You can’t control fate you know.”

“I know.” Albedo forced the words out, although more and more it seemed impossible, his throat was too constricted to be anything more than barely coherent. “Still. I should’ve known. And I should’ve kept it together. I, why am I crying? Why wasn’t I in control? Why, why am I still not in control?”

“Because you’re human Albedo.” You replied, shaking your head slightly. “You’re the most wonderful human alive, but you’re still human. You mustn’t beat yourself up for what you are. I’d rather you cry anyways. There’s nothing noble in hiding your emotions, they must come out one way or another. So please, please cry all you want, long and hard. And tomorrow you can start your penance, alright?”

“Penance?” Albedo mumbled, still crying. You nodded, smile still nothing but fondness and understanding.

“Well someone’s going to have to help me for the next two months. And I know you’re too much a gentleman to make me stumble along myself.”

“Of course.” Albedo’s answer came fast and sure. He paused then, realizing that, by distracting him with the weeks to come, you’d managed to give him a pocket of time to calm himself, to feel himself once more firmly planted on the ground. Love mixed with anger and sadness in his mind, and for a moment he could only marvel at you.

Albedo leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. He’d do whatever he could to help you, this he promised himself. And this too he promised himself; you’d never ever be hurt on his watch again.

Childe

If there was anything that Childe hated it was a lack of control. The feeling of everything slipping through his fingers was something he’d felt often as a child, and that feeling had haunted him. When he’d signed up as a member of the Fatui he’d promised himself that he’d never feel that way again. He’d protect those he loved and he’d keep his life from falling apart. It was a promise he was determined to keep, no matter what.

You two had decided to go hiking. Or rather it was less of a hike and more of a rock climb. Childe had long bragged that the Huaguang Stone Forest was the most beautiful place to watch the sunset, and you’d finally gotten a free weekend. Waypointing your way there initially, your partner had taken an almost childlike joy from choosing which mountain was the highest.

“Childe have you decided yet? The sun is almost at the horizon.” You called out at the Harbinger. Childe was, much to your dismay, the stronger climber, and had taken to scouting ahead of time to see if the spot you were climbing to was any good. Now he glanced down at you, mischief written all over his face, his smirk flashier than usual. He put his hand on his chin and looked outward once more.

“Hmm… I don’t know…”

“Childe!” You exclaimed, your arms slightly killing you. You really wish that you’d convinced Childe to bring a roped and belay. Unfortunately that request had been met with a whine and an accusation of “that’s cheating!” You’d laughed it off at the time, but now you were starting to regret your partner’s recklessness. As much as you were enjoying your time – being alone with Childe always felt intensely special and you cherished every moment of it – you were also impatient to actually watch the sunset, and in your hurry you wondered if it might not be faster to climb back down and watch from the bridge.

“I do believe that we’ve found the tallest one!”

“Thank the Seven.” You groaned, hurrying to get to the top. Childe chuckled, watching you scale up the mountain.

“Oh come now, I had to make sure it was perfect! Besides you looked so comfortable perched there, it almost hurt to disrupt you.”

“When I get up there I’m killing you.” You shot back, reaching towards the ledge. Still laughing Childe stuck out his hand and you moved to grab it, pushing off with your feet as much as possible, determined to make it up the mountain in the next move.

The laughter died from Childe’s lips the moment your hand missed. Instead it was replaced by fear, cold and sharp as a knife, plunging straight through his heart. Time seemed to slow down, but you were falling so fast, falling, falling, falling. Catapulting himself off the top of the mountain Childe reached out for you. In his mind he was screaming. Glide. Oh please, for the love of the Seven glide. Please, don’t fall, it’s so high up. I couldn’t bear it. Please.

Still the words were stuck in his mouth, and his throat only constricted more when you hit the bridge with a sickening thud. Releasing his own wings at the last moment he landed on the bridge too, only a few meters away from where you were now crumpled up. Running over he scooped you up. You’d managed to right yourself at the last moment in the air so that you were landing feet first, but though you’d managed to protect your head your legs dragged limply, and one was bent at an awkward angle. Looking at your mangled form, listening to you as you screamed and whimpered in pain, Child felt overwhelmed by his vast helplessness. There was nothing he could do. Burying his head in your neck he sobbed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The journey to Liyue was excruciating, both for you and for Childe. Although there was no external bleeding the initial adrenaline of falling had no worn off and you felt every jolt and movement as Childe slung you on his back, wrapping his arms around your thighs and carrying you to the nearest waypoint and then to the Liyue doctor. Even when Childe was standing still you thought you might die from the sheer pain. So intense it was that sometimes you gave up, blacking out only to wake up feeling like you were drowning, the burning air around you almost too hot and too heavy to breathe.

Childe willed himself to numbness throughout the journey, only allowing him to collapse once you’d reached the hospital, practically ramming into the nearest chair in the waiting room, the situation washing over him.

How could he have let this happen? Hadn’t he made a promise? A promise that he’d protect those he’d love, that he’d never lose control of a situation again, that he’d never let those he cared about suffer? Where was that promise now? His whole world seemed to collapse in on itself now. He hadn’t been able to protect you. Despite his training, his reflexes, his vision, his everything. You’d still fallen. And as powerful as Childe liked to think he was, he still couldn’t turn back time and stop your suffering.

Finally the doctor opened the door and Childe was let in to see you. After informing him that you were on painkillers the doctor left you two alone. Faced with you laying on the hospital bed Childe sank into the nearest chair. Lacing his fingers through yours he drew circles on your hand over and over. For a moment you two said nothing, then Childe let his head rest on your hands. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice raw.

“I know.” You replied, mind a bit hazy from the painkillers, the magic infused herbs luring you to sleep. Still you pushed forward, needing to say something before Childe let himself be carried away. “I know, but it’s not your fault. And it’s not irreversible. The doctor says in 8 weeks I’ll be fine. Until then, we’ll just have to improvise.”

“But what about your adventuring? Your commissions? How can you do those if you can’t –”

“I’ll figure it out. Adventuring isn’t just monster slaying you know. And there’s no catastrophe in being in a wheelchair or on crutches.” You shook your head. Childe was still crying, and you could feel his tears running down your linked hands.

“Ajax.” Childe’s head shot up, surprised. He loved when you called him by his true name, it always seemed like a song falling from your lips. And now that song was filled with understanding, if not a bit of sadness. “I want you to not blame yourself.” You continued. “I know it’ll be hard, I know that these feelings won’t go away. And I’m not blaming you for them. I’m not happy about this either, of course I’m not, I just went through a world of pain. But I won’t be able to stand watching you beat yourself up for 8 weeks, I won’t be able to stand that look in your eyes every time you look at me. So please, please stop. If not for yourself then for me.”

Childe stared at your for a while. You waited, not wanting to rush his thought process. Eventually though he shook his head, a small smile finally breaking his expression.

“You’re too good for me you know. Alright. I promise to try. It’s the least I could do.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. Childe smiled back. He didn’t know how you managed to do it, how you managed to take his fears and look them in the face. All he knew at that moment was that he loved you. And for now, that was enough.

 Diluc

Diluc stared in horror as the Fatui Bracer aimed a Geo projectile right at you, his horror multiplying into rage and terror as the concentrated energy flew through the air and landed right at the base of your ribcage. You crumpled at the impact, wheezing heavily, apparently stunned from the power and speed of the attack.

How could this have happened? Diluc knew that the Fatui were gathering in Mondstadt, something that the winery owner turned Darknight Hero couldn’t stand. But never did he think to see Fatui skirmishers right outside the walls of Monstadt, strolling along the beach of Cider Lake as if it were Snezhnaya. Never did he think he’d have to see another loved one felled by a member of the Fatui, and never did he think that he could bear the emotions coursing through him now.

He made quick work of the Bracer, hacking and swinging without rhyme or reason, barely able to comprehend what was going on. Everything felt oddly separated from him, as if he were watching through someone else’s eyes, watching as he burned through the Bracer’s shields as easily as if it were made of wax, leaving the man groaning and screaming in pain before silencing him altogether.

The feeling of separation only grew more powerful as he ran over to you. You seemed to be conscious, but your breathing was shallow and ragged, and the place where the Fatui’s attack had hit seemed mangled, one of your ribs having seemingly been broken. You were screaming, though it was hoarse and low and tired. Still if you were screaming you were alive, and at least Diluc could hold onto that.

Carrying you in his arms Diluc winced as you let out another shriek of pain. You two weren’t far from the gates of Monstadt, but every step seemed to be a thousand steps and what was surely only a few hundred meters instead felt like tens of thousands of miles.

You were going to be alright. At least the doctor had said you were going to be alright. Surely Diluc could be grateful for that? But he didn’t feel grateful, instead he felt anger and hatred welling up inside of him. He’d told himself it was no good to be an angry or hateful person, that doing so would only push you away, would only destroy the fragile bonds he’d managed to build between you and a selection of others. But still the anger and the hatred lingered, refusing to be quelled or stuffed away.

He wanted revenge. Revenge on the Fatui, on the Tsaritsa, on the uncaring world that let him be so tormented, and that so tormented the ones he loved. How could this have happened to you? You who were made of goodness, more goodness than he’d found in the world beforehand. How was this a fitting reward?

It was decided that you could stay at the Winery during the 6 grueling weeks that was to be your convalescence. Diluc said nothing on the way there. He was afraid what would happened if he opened his mouth. Already he knew his face was betraying the feelings welling within him. He didn’t need to make it worse, not now.

Arriving at the Winery Diluc carried you to his room, the nicest room there was. Up to this point you’d said nothing, and Diluc wondered if you weren’t too groggy to do so. However when you spoke up there was an urgency in your voice, one he simply couldn’t ignore.

“You’re angry. You’re trying to hide it but I know it.”

“I’m not the one in pain right now.” Came a curt reply. Diluc was looking at you with what others might’ve mistaken as a glare. Perhaps it was even that, but there was something beneath it, and you knew it ultimately wasn’t directed at you.

“I am. And I’m upset too. But I’ve accepted it. You need to accept that you’re angry too. Burying it won’t help, it’ll only make it worse you know. You have to acknowledge your emotions. You don’t have to hide them. At least not in front of me.”

The expression on Diluc’s face finally broke. The anger there was raw and palapable, but there was also something else, something he’d also buried.

“I was… terrified.” Diluc finally let out. “I was so terrified it frightened me. I… I thought I was going to lose you.”

“And you shouldn’t have to hide that either.” You prodded softly. “But I’ll be alright, I promise. So please, just be open with me and then we’ll go from there.”

Diluc nodded, finding himself unable to speak. Walking over to where you were laying down he peppered kisses all over your face, light and ethereal as butterflies.

He’d do right by you. That’s what he promised himself, after all the hiding and the pain. He’d do right by you. But he’d also not forgive the Fatui for what they’d done, and tonight when Monstadt was asleep the Darknight would be watching. And for any Snezhnayan roaming the streets and lurking in the shadows, there’d be no forgiveness.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

I don't know if this counts as a comfort request, can you do a Chuuya and Dazai comfort request of them comforting/saving the reader from a abusive parent?

Yes, this is, of course, a comfort request, if it helps you feel better, than it counts. I’m sorry if this doesn't live up to expectations though, abuse is one of the few things I struggle with writing for personal reasons (don’t worry, it’s nothing physical, just a lot of mental strain loves), so it won’t be detailed or thoroughly explained, more hinted/briefly mentioned. Since the request was vague, I was unsure what kind you needed, so I went with what I’m more comfortable writing. With that out of the way, here are 2 small drabbles.

Saved from an abusive household (comfort fic) |Dazai, Chuuya x Reader|

Warning: Emotional and (maybe some hints to physical) abuse

Words- 1141 (combining both characters totals).

Dazai-

590 words

To say he was angry was an understatement. He never understood why his emotions were so, so uncontrolled when it came to you. He was hardly in terms that he may actually love you. With the wind blowing over your face, whipping through your hair, he couldn’t help it. Noticing every mark, the tears, everything. He noticed it despite how you acted like everything was fine. The hoarseness of your tone was too great a signal that, well, you had been crying longer than he had been standing here. Dazai wanted to know, no, he needed to know who had made you so upset. He felt, odd as it may sound, protective. He would never strike out against you or raise his voice. He’d never hurt you, not in any way. So the flinch you made when all he wanted was to cup your face, to whisper that he loved you, it hurt. He couldn’t keep his face from showing the shock. His eyes darting around for any other signs. Clearly, he’d noticed before, but you always rode it off.

Standing within the brutal rain, you watched Dazai with a clouded mind. There are… many ways that often go unnoticed to the public. While cuts are difficult to hide, the scars on the mind… are impossible to see. What is not shown on the surface is never seen. Anxiety, depression, social awkwardness, the flinch brought on by a loud noise or voice, the shaky trembles of hands when being scolded. Signs that go unnoticed, so as Dazai looked at you with eyes full of anger and pain, he waited until you flew to his chest and broke down. His hands never once left your back. His voice a mere whisper as he ran fingers and told you the best news of your life. “You can live with me. It isn’t much, but its, it’s better than going back there.” His voice held so much anger, disgust, and pain you thought he may drop you in bed, then run to kill the two who told you over and over how much they loved you, only to contradict themselves. 

He did something along the lines of that. When you were asleep in an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants far too long for your legs, he sipped from the agency-provided room, and well, he went straight to the place he knew you lived. It happened to be on your file in the agency. He didn’t bother knocking, but instead picked the front door lock with skilled ease, and underneath the clap of thunder and flash of white light, he slid inside. Dragging water into the room where two older adults lay. As if they didn't notice their child's absence. So pulling out his gun, he shot at a perfect angle. A direct middle between heads. He watched them scramble awake, only to see he was already gone within shadows. He played the part of a demon for you tonight. Raising their paranoia as far as he could, before appearing with a dramatic flash of lighting having calculated the right timing. He warns them if they ever tried to make themselves the victims, or if they set a pinky on your skin, he’d make their lives a living hell. After all, he was once Dazai Osamu, the demon prodigy, the youngest mafia executive. It wasn't a title he liked anymore, but he would admit returning to such a mentality for a bit would be alright, if it meant protecting you from pain.

Chuuya-

551 words

Beneath the rays of moonlight showering through a ginger held you tightly in his arms. Tonight he played the part of the big spoon, cuddling you close to keep you safe. It was always like this in storms. His arms wrapped around you, running down your arms. His lips on top of your in passionate breaks here and there. The two shared wine and laughed away the storm. Every time you jumped, he dropped to kiss your shoulders and between your neck. He kept trying to comfort you with all he could. He never felt it was enough. Especially after the ones that were within seconds of another. The louder the tremble, the more you shook, so when four or five repeated in a row he worried. Sure, it was normal to be scared of storms, but you were scared of the noise in general. It was an issue he had hated because, well, we all know Chuuya likes to yell a lot. He never realized till he was actually angry with a coworker, the flinch you make is an expectation, like your bracing for something. That’s how he found out. The next morning, how you claimed to be too sick to go home. The way you wanted to stay with him on your week off. How you'd rather just keep working.

“I’ll kill them.” It wasn’t anger directed at you, and he kept his tone soft, despite how difficult it was. Behind his clenched teeth, dagger-like glare, and the snarl, he was positive he’d frightened you accidentally. “Let me kill ‘em.” He grumbled, shoving his gloves into pockets as he tried to reel in his temper. He doesn't give two shits if they are your parents. So telling him no is frustrating. Clearly, if they did this, if they could be cruel enough to make their child afraid, then they didn’t deserve somebody so forgiving and kind like you.

He let you stay the day with him. There was no way he’d make you go home. Not when he’d seen how terrified you were when he tried pushing you out the door. He’d cuddled and spoiled you rotten with gifts all day. And when you finally crashed, his lips tapped your forehead, and he was gone. Searching through records till he found the address. He was straight to the point, breaking a window with a nice kick. His feet heavy with gravity as he grabbed the collars of those two blind bastards. Yes, he knew he could make it worse. However, that would only happen if they were not afraid of him. An overprotective guard dog. Trust me, this is one loyal bastard you never want to cross. He couldn’t kill them, but he could hurt them. He could yell at the top of his lungs and shout in their ears. Send them in walls, maybe break a finger, or two. On his way out, when the couple stood shaking with fear, his head tilted back just enough to see the scene he’d made. “Hurt them again, and I won’t listen. You’re really lucky, my baby has a golden heart that forgives so easily." He half-expected them to call the cops, but he guessed that meant angering the mafia more. What could he say, he was a pretty well-known man.

Tags (if you wish to be added send an ask) : @jadegreenimmortality