wonderstruckdance

[wonderstruckdance]

hi!! i took a break due to medical concerns but i’m slowly transitioning back into writing. i have LOZ one request in development as long with a few BSD one-shots that are almost ready. i apologize for any inconvenience i may have caused ♥️

[wonderstruckdance]

“Those poor boys”

“She deserves to be punished too.”

“I’m not saying I support rape, but-”

“Sorry to say - she deserved it.”

“She put herself in harm’s way”

“But if she was fingered, then that’s not rape.”

“She ruined their lives.”

[wonderstruckdance]

BACK WHEN I WAS LIVING FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

quick note because this is really important: SALT AIR AND THE RUST ON YOUR DOOR I NEVER NEEDED ANYTHING MOREEEEEEEEEE

botw! link x reader

pt.1

100 years can do a number on someone.

The fragments of Link’s past came to him in shards of broken glass. Each one jagged, sharp, and cutting deeper than the last.

After carefully curating what he believed the most important parts of his past were, he was relieved to believe that he was done with unfamiliar nostalgia. However, that small hilltop house in Hateno said something different.

Upon purchasing the house, a rather impulsive and tragic move for his wallet to face, Link was forced to confront familiarity once again. He had grown somewhat used to it- like when he had journeyed to the spring of power and remembered the princess’s own journey, or the divine beast once wielded by a certain healing warrior. But this feeling was different.

This wasn’t a memory Impa had advised him to uncover. This wasn’t something he needed in order to rescue the princess. So why was he desperately searching each nook and cranny for something that could transport him back in time?

Link jumped at the feeling on something sharp grasping his fingertips. His hand had wandered into a broken floorboard, his fingers subtly clutching a circular object. He pulled up, the golden sight unlocking something deep within him.

A diamond circlet. He was familiar with the garment. But what made this one so special? What about this crown made him feel as though the cosmos were kissing him on his head?

A flash of white overtook his vision, lifting his feet after the ground and flinging him back through the tears of his former life. The old hill house and the diamond circlet stood unwavered, with one key difference that is.

Link was sure Goddess Hylia sat before him on the floor, milk and honey dripping from her lush rose lips as she explained how diamonds can harness the power of light. He watched, mesmerized by each movement as the girl took the crown in her grasp and placed it on his forehead. He was sure that his heart surrendered itself when he felt you reach forward, pulling out the golden strands of hair from underneath the crown. Her hands felt like flowers on skin, beautiful. Delicate. Something he should protect.

Thats when it truly settled upon his tongue. The woman vanished from his sight. Whoever she was, whoever she could have been, was lost. He was too late.

[wonderstruckdance]

HOW’D WE END UP ON THE FLOOR ANYWAY?

touya todoroki x f! reader

sexual themes are present

He clutched your hand to his chest, right above his heart. Thats where you guessed- based on the feeling of it speaking whispers of love only to be heard by you. Your lips connected with a fervent incandescence, the glow dancing on bare skin with delight.

Touya has this infatuation with skin. You had never seen anyone who worshipped the organ with such nicety, but each wave of joy pulsating through your body had your mind and soul desperately wrapped around one thing.

Maybe, its because of his own marred skin. Maybe the ragged, purple edges made him appreciate what he once owned for himself. Maybe, its because you worship his body the same. Maybe its the fire you light in his chest each time you kiss the staples across his chest, or clutch his much larger hands on your body. Maybe, just maybe, its because you love him. And he loves you.

Touya was utterly convinced that you are a cosmic being. That the stars in the universe worked together to craft your being into his arms. He believes that, by some miracle in the world, you were especially crafted to love him. Because who else would?

He believes your body and soul were crafted just for him, that you were destined to be wrapped around his cock as you make love. “Doll.” He stutters. Truthfully, he was at a loss for words. What could he say? He would challenge anyone to submit anything to you that wasn’t an astonished gasp at the sight of your celestial existence. He wasn’t even sure himself that you were real. That someone this perfect was in his bed, in his arms, and in his heart. Scratch that. Someone who rightfully owned his heart.

“You- Fuck. You feel so good.” Touya muttered to you, taking note of how his hands intertwined with yours. Touya could start cerulean blue sparks from his finger tips. He could burn Dabi or Endeavour into nothing but ash with the flick of a finger. He could the buildings in the city and the bridges of his past, but only you could make him melt. Only you could start the blaze to keep him warm at night.

Your mind couldn’t make out how you got here. Only that Touya was responsible for the desperate screams escaping your mouth, filling the room with the scent of pure lust. He pulled his cock in and out of you at an agonizingly pleasurable pace, your glow mesmerizing the flame in his eyes. If his heart was a fire, you were the fire starter.

You made a mental note of that cheap ass rosé he seemed to like so much.

[wonderstruckdance]

TUMBLR DONT SAVE MY DRAFTS AGAIN I DARE TOU 😭

[wonderstruckdance]

hi hello! i randomly stumbled across your writing and like. Wow. it is Stunning. it’s so pretty and it makes me feel all gwahhh! thank you so much for sharing it with us!!

this made my day ♥️  i'm so glad you're enjoying my pieces so far, i'll be sure to have a lot more in the future!! love you non

[wonderstruckdance]

STARS BY THE POCKETFUL

atsushi nakajima x reader:

quick note: midnights is an entire masterpiece thank you lord swift. sexual themes are present

Skin against skin, stars aligning one by one.

Your hands were placed firmly on his shoulders. You could feel him fully accept the fact that his entire soul rested in your lap. Everything he has, everything he hoped of being. Everything was yours.

His insecurities threatened to burst from the seems. He shouldn’t be doing this. He’s not good enough for this. He couldn’t possibly please you, right? Wrong. Atsushi watched, awe stricken gaze meeting yours as his name rolls of your tongue and into the room. He recites yours in his own mantra, his way of worshiping your existence under his arms.

He was used to the pain. He had long before accepted the phantom stings that pulled screams from his mouth and tears from his eyes. So feeling milk and honey drip from your mouths as you kiss was all too new. He was sure roses bloomed from his chest as you caress his neck, pulling him in for more.

“You feel s-so good, [Y/N].” Atsushi’s mouth finally gave into holding him captive, allowing for the poor boy to jab at some piss-poor attempt at describing his everlasting devotion to you. He’s was so in love. Every love song was about you. Every star in the sky was one he wished he could take in his hands and bring to you. He was hopelessly, irretrievably, in love with you.

The feeling is mutual, of course.

[wonderstruckdance]

I ONCE BELIEVED LOVE WOULD BE BURNING RED

shouto todoroki x reader

Shouto Todoroki does not know how to love.

At least, he’s unaware.

The only thing Shouto knew for sure he could do with his heart was freeze it. To him it was amour. A shield. Something that would keep him from being burned once more.

While that armour did shield him from the shattered fragments of his childhood, they also deflected the pure, molten honey that tried incredibly to break through the walls every time someone would show care for him.

Shouto lived his days on, blissfully unaware of how melted ice dripped from his very finger tips, and pooled in the hands and hearts of those he dared to hold close to him. Very few, but they were there.

Natsuo and Fuyumi, for instance. He knows they care for him. He knows it in the way Natsuo takes his head in his much larger arms and reminds him that he’s still in fact their baby brother. He sees the way Fuyumi goes out of her way to call Shouto some kind of reminder- Have you eaten yet? Or Rest well! He knows it should be routine, but perhaps he forces himself to forget. Perhaps he convinces himself he’d be better off not getting used to these things. Not used to the comfort.

He knows his mother loved him- or at least he hopes. He pretends not notice the wince of guilt in his mothers eyes when her gaze meets his scar. He wishes he had zero ties to his father, to burn every photo, every memory, every reminder- anything that still clutched all the pain he caused. Maybe then he wouldn’t doubt his own mothers love.

He has fond memories of Touya. Shouto was forevermore lost in his imagination of who his eldest brother was. He was stuck dreaming up this image of him, only to remember that his father got to Touya before Shouto could truly meet him. Shouto was taught how to fight and how to mourn, never how to heal. Maybe he learned it not from his father, but his brother. His brother who might have lived through the same hell he did. He could only imagine being embraced by someone who truly understood his pain, someone who could find the boy inside him and tell him he’d be okay. Shouto could imagine.

Shouto is clueless when it comes to you, however.

He knows the way you make him feel, but putting a word to match the beating of his heart was its own labor.

He’s able to recognize the longing for his body to be overgrown with wisteria next to yours. He knows he feels his soul collide with yours when your lips of sun press their light on his face. He knows he can feel roses bloom between you and the sheets the night you fall asleep next to him. He knows how he wishes to eulogize the tip of your nose to the depths of your soul when he presses his body against yours.

Crack!

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Shouto feels the ice struggle when he tells you he loves you. He feels it finally surrender when he hears you say it back, instead replacing itself with the liquid sun that finally infiltrated inside.

It didn’t burn him at all.

[wonderstruckdance]

I DIDNT HAVE IT IN MYSELF TO GO WITH GRACE

chuuya nakahara x reader

My love,

Before you read anything, I need you to understand that this brings me no joy. I am so in love with you and our daughter. Though you have yet to bring her into this world, the tribulations you have faced in both carrying and mothering her are ones I could never dream of understanding. My love, you are a eulogy beyond my words.

My love, you are not my woman. You aren’t anybody’s women. You’re you. Your beauty is that of a celestial body. You carry the world on your back and you do it without flaw. Everyday I wake up next to you in my sheets is a day I am reminded of just how lucky I got. And though I know that luck is slipping through my fingers with each word I write, nothing will change my gratitude for everything you have given me.

I am forever indebted to you. You took the time to craft me into the man I am today, and not for the money or glory. You did it out of the love you carry in your heart. Of all the shattered people in the world, you saw me and permanently collided my soul with yours. You consume me. My heart, my actions, my every waking thought. You are the true love of my life.

And thats why I have to say goodbye.

You are in danger with me. The things I have done and am going to do would put you at great risk. I could never live with myself if anything happened to you or our sweet daughter. It kills every fibre of my existence to leave you, because with you I had found true peace. My love, I know of so many things that could hurt you. I beg of you, don’t let me be one of them.

I know you will take care of our daughter. All the love you have given to me will go to her as well, I’m sure.

[Y/N], I love you. And I’m so sorry.

[wonderstruckdance]

TIME MOVED TOO FAST, YOU PLAYED IT BACK

touya todoroki x reader

Touya came to you a broken man, he often thought.

He thinks of his first encounter with you when the sapphires on his face gaze out the window, his gnarled hands holding you close to his form for warmth. When the day god opens her chest wide, allowing for her sacred incandescence to ravage the darkness of the night, he makes a mental note of how powerfully breathtaking you look bathed in her gold. How even more breathtaking you look wrapped in his embrace.

Touya thinks of how he comes to you when his skin refuses to hold on to one another, like two brothers who were taught everything about how to mourn but never how to heal. He thinks of how desperately you clutch his large body like broken glass slicing through your hands. He thinks of how he can feel your love seething from your soul and dripping onto his bones while you tell him that he’s going to be okay. He doesn’t deserve this. He knows that. But how could anyone resist the touch of a god?

Touya thinks of how your lips transform his being into liquid sun, annihilating any traces of malice still lingering in the dark. He pleads on his hands, screams erupting from his champers as he begs whatever deity out there that thought it’d be fun to play this game with him. Touya thinks of how desperately he needed to know which god was drunk of their ass enough to think he possibly deserved to be sent a being down from the cosmos.

Touya thinks of making love with you for the first time, the entire universe coming to a halt as he desperately presses his lips to the skin of your neck. The way you moan his name, his real name, as he pushes himself deep inside of you has every ounce of love left in his body flee his soul and surrender itself to you. He thinks of how flowers must have bloomed where his body was connected to yours as he plants his cum deep inside of you.

Touya thinks of how your hands and heart captured lightning in a bottle. How your light grasped Dabi in its hands, and found the scared, at sea boy who was never good enough for anyone but you. He thinks of how that same light unraveled Dabi’s ice and brought Touya back to the surface. He didn’t know that was possible.

By some cosmic miracle, you stole what was left of his heart.

Touya smiles as he watched your eyes flutter open from your slumber. He knows that its yours for good.

[wonderstruckdance]

Ricochet

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick. God. Damn. Tick.

The sound of a clock really shouldn’t be as screamingly blaring as it is now.

Cain had never been more fixated on what was once mere background noise. The man before him had once proclaimed that only few aspects of his life were truly worthy of his attention— but that was then and this now, and all his mind could manage to scrap together was how the stupid ticks of that stupid time-teller brought along one more step down the staircase of insanity. Tick tick tick. It was almost comforting, the only true constant in his life. Even if that constant was a dust submerged clock that was older than the hills. Some may call him lucky that the ticking wasn’t the only noise in the room, however.

“When’s the last time you showered? And this room! It's an absolute pigsty. My God, I always have to take care of you.” Those words erupted in phantom stings.

It took every single muscle fiber in Cain’s tattered body to lift his head up, practically dismembering itself at the sight of his brother. Seated on the floor in shambles, he was met with the gaze of the one person he couldn’t possibly bear to see. Abel looked at him, the mercurial disdain swirling around in those green eyes of his, burning holes into his chest. Those same green eyes that resembled his own too closely for his liking. Cain’s mind forced him to recall the moment he first gazed into his brother's eyes that night, the remnants of his spirit fleeing the vessel. Seeing Abel was basically gazing deep into a mirror- though it wasn’t a crystal clear reflection. In fact, the only thing he could see crystal clear was everything he could have been, had he not lost his life in the bottom of a bottle.

“Just leave me alone, Abe.” Cain’s voice was hardly audible, but both brothers knew that the words from his tongue were nothing short of an exasperated beg.

“How many bottles this time? You’re so pathetic, Cainy.” Abel mocked his older brother. Each syllable out of his brother's mouth made him wish more and more that he had never pulled that trigger. Cain felt his weight shift, sliding onto his feet. The muscles in his back cried out in pain at the sudden change in position, but Cain’s care for his body was lost in a world of guilt. It was like relearning how to walk again, though he was sure his 2 year old self was a much faster learner. Cain felt eyes on him through his struggle, but no words were to fall from his younger brother’s lips. Just shame communicated through stares. He was sure of it.

Cain sat himself on top of the counter, his eyes barely persevering through the black. He snatched the already opened bottle of wine, unable to give a single fuck about his sobriety any longer. All his progress, those 118 days of not having a single drop, now just washed down his throat. The deep, red liquid reached his mouth, acting as the beaten man’s saving grace and worst sin simultaneously. This wasn’t his regular “hush” he could tell his mind when he needed it silenced; this was a threat. Cain needed to muzzle his mind, to punish it for making him relieve all those awful memories. The alcohol was a comfort to no one. Maybe one person, if you count the man sitting next to Cain.

“What have you done this time?” He felt his stomach contort, as if physically rejecting the words he had just heard.

Maybe he should have poured a glass for him.

His father placed a hand on his back, sliding up and down. Cain shivered, the feeling was anything but comforting.

“I messed up, Pa.” Cain’s confession could hardly be made out through his cries, as if the wine coated his tongue with the truth. There was no sympathy in his fathers eyes like he had hoped. Instead, what took their place was two brewing cauldrons, bubbling up with anger.

“Look at what you’ve become. Just an– I don’t know– a shell of a man. It’s sad. You did this to yourself, you know.” He spoke daggers, further brutalizing Cain. Something putrid entered Cain’s nostrils. Something so condensed, so colossal, you could almost call it a taste. The wine wasn’t going to wash this one down.

A flash of sporadic reds and yellows came down like thunder. Anyone else may have missed it, but Cain knew that it was there. It had to have been there. Of course it was there. He gasped, the cool air rushing toward his lungs transporting him back in time. That smell. The fire. Son of a bitch.

Cain turned his head, feeling his thoat run dry as a thick, black fog filled his lungs. A scream erupted from the chamber of his chords, almost definitely alerting any sane souls nearby- but that was the least of the sniper’s worries. The only thing that he knew in his bones was he was 10 again, watching the burning flesh make a piss-poor attempt to cling onto the bone’s of his father’s body. Blood and whiskey were splayed across the already rotten floorboards, as if his dear old man was trying to take him and Abel down with him.

Cain gulped, his eyes slowly adjusting to what he could only hope was reality. The smell and fire had vanished, but what he saw was arguably worse than the burning corpse of the man who raised you.

“ I didn’t know that it was Abe, Pa.” Cain pleaded with fury stitched in his tongue, desperately searching for any signs of sympathy from his father. Seeing his fathers eye’s of disdain made his blood boil. By some cosmic miracle, he was here next to his firstborn son, and his first instinct was to fucking scold him?

His father scoffed, seeing how angry his son was. Maybe Cain deserved some reprimanding. After all, only someone born from fiery depths would ever do such a thing. Cain knew he was wrestling with the guilt, but being haunted like this felt like he was being sentenced to death himself.

“You can hate me for the rest of your life, but I want you to know.” The man started, picking up a bottle of opened irish whiskey and smashing it into the floor. “You’re me! You turned out to be exactly like me, Cain O’Sullivan. You. Are. Me.”

His father could have said anything else. How inhuman he was for pulling the trigger, how he was going to burn the moment he looked into Abel’s eyes. Cain knew that. He knew it was unforgivable. But gaining a glimpse into the idea that he had become his father? That was too much.

Cain was pretty damn sure that whatever managed to escape his eyes wasn’t tears. Alcohol, maybe. That was the only thing he consumed lately. It’s only right.

The worst part though? Cain found it in himself to agree with his dear old dad.

The remnants of his childhood appeared into his hands as shattered glass. Each jagged, broken, and cut deeper than the last. He could just barely remember life before his mother became sick, because that would imply a time where his family was happy. He laughed at the idea, knowing that he was whole galaxies away from that reality.

The night his mother died was the night he first saw his father drink. He didn’t shed a tear, quiver a lip, but he did find some kind of foul spiritual awakening through that damn bottle of scotch. He finished that bottle the same night.

Seeing him drunk was so surreal. If there was ever a man who ever loved his kids and his wife, he was nowhere to be found. He probably drowned in the rising blood alcohol levels. Because from that day onward, he was no man. No man would wreck that level of havoc on his kids. The words he heard from his father were laced with malice. Not a day went by where he wasn’t reminded of how inconvenient it was having him around the house, how ashamed he was that he of all people had to be the one to carry on his bloodline. It was almost funny, his old man could have at least be creative with the way he tortured his kids.

Cain hid his face in hands. He had lost all shreds of sanity to grasp onto to no avail.

In some way, Cain understood his father. It wasn’t the alcohol that changed him, it was the grief. Every drop of substance only served as the ignition. “That’s not true.” Cain spoke under his breath. He winced as soon as the words lept from his mouth, trying to recall the moment he became such a coward.

“Oh please! The bottles, the shame, the guilt? Couldn’t have been original, Cainy?” The malevolence in his words stretched for infinity. Words of defense sat upon Cain’s tongue, threatening to leave but faltering in the agony. His next words came like a lion’s roar but took everything inside him to push it out of his mouth:

“You know, you were a monster growing up. Yeah, after Ma left you were just gone.” Cain stuck his finger into his fathers chest, a sense of pride filling him because he knew he wasn’t the only one to be blamed. The pride came underserved and he knew it, but his lips spoke faster than his brain. “You couldn’t go a day without reminding me and Abe how much you loathed us. All you needed was that stupid bottle of jameson to get you by, forget the fact you ever had your own kin to look after!”

His father only shook his head, picking up the long forgotten bottle of wine and enjoying himself a deep, lingering gulp. It was as if it were coating his tongue, preparing his words for their next attack. “Abel needed you growing up, you know. But you were so far gone.”

“We needed you! We needed you when you were in the bottom of a bottle!” Cain shouted at the top of his lungs, the words echoing within the confines of the kitchen. He was livid with what he was hearing. Hypocrite.

“Don’t try to blame me for this!” His father retorted.

“This is your fault!” Cain screamed louder than what he knew has capable of. The look on his fathers face. Priceless. He was almost relieved just a moment ago when he saw him burn to ashes, though that did continue to blur the lines of his sanity.

“Fine.” There was a sense of defeat in his fathers voice, something he was eerily unfamiliar with. “I was a bad father. But you were just as bad.”

Just when Cain had thought he won the battle. He relapsed.

Cain remained silent, unable to find the right words inside of him any more. He waited for his father to finish him off, to point the gun to his head and walk away with the victory of the war on his shoulders.

“Poor boy. If your mom were here she’d have it so, so much worse for you, you know that Cain. She’s looking down at you with nothing but shame.”

His eyes blurred with tears once again, an almost sober sensation. He looked around his barren kitchen, the confusion setting in once he noted that his father was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he should have been relieved.

He stumbled off of the counter, his legs still struggling to do their damn job while he staggered his way to the living room. The revelations of his past still clung to him like leeches, but if there was one thing he knew best, it was to shut it out through all means necessary.

He sat on the couch, wincing at the sight of the two things in front of him.

Abel stood in front of him, his look yet to be determined by Cain. In his hands, he clutched a sickeningly familiar rifle.

“Do you ever think about Ma and Pa?” In a clear juxtaposition to the recent altercation with his father, there seemed to be exactly zero malice in his voice. Just sheer innocence you’d expect from a younger brother. Cain hated it. He hated how he wasn’t being attacked because it only made his muscles shatter with fear. expecting something so much worse.

The fragments of the past came crashing down onto Cain once more, right after he proudly managed to sweep them under the rug. He remembered how Abel reacted to their mother's passing, how he cried so much he couldn’t stand. Cain remembered watching his meek form lay curled up in his lap, clutching his shirt. It was as if he were trying to emulate the feeling of being a newborn, just brought into this world and crying in his mothers lap.

He also remembered holding his hair back while Abel retched his insides out, the smell of smoke lingering around the house when Cain discovered what was left of their father. He knew he had to take care of Abel, but how could he do that when he wasn’t sure of what to do with what was left inside him?

All these memories felt like fever dreams. He was sure that they happened, but only one glass seemed to be clear enough to fully see through: The night he first drank.

Everything after that was a kaleidoscope of burning blurs, but he knew if he thought about it any longer, he’d come to the realization that he really was their father, no doubt. He had left Abel in the dark the same way that he was left in the dark.

“It doesn’t matter.” Cain tried convincing Abel, but mostly himself. He’d be lying if he claimed that this was the only time he realized just what kind of a brother he had been, but what was the point in doing something about it when he could shut his brain up with a drink instead?

“They’re gone. They’ve been gone for 20. Damn. Years Abe!” Cain shouted, his voice cracking at the seams. He wasn’t going to make it. He could never become sober after this.

“What matters is that they would never take you back after this. But they're dead and so am I, so I guess you're right about something for once.” Abel mocked. There it was. The malice that Cain knew all too well. The malice he expected from his younger brother.

“I didn’t mean it, Abe! I didn’t mean anything I ever did to you.” Cain was ashamed of what he was saying, but at least for once he was telling the truth. If there was one night more important than the first night he witnessed his father drunk, it was the night he first got drunk. And the night after that. And after that.

Abel looked at him, his face contorting into what can only be described as pure, enraged shame. Abel assumed his position as the victim in his case. The victim in a story where he extracts his revenge on the one that hurt him most, having the audience cheering his name while he strikes the final blow on the villain.

“You didn’t mean it? Yes Cain, kill your brother and lay next to his body while you hide. Coward. You were probably drunk, knowing you.” Sometimes actions couldn’t compare to how loud words could be. Cain would have much preferred if Abel lunged forward, wrapping his arms around his neck and watching his face flush a sickly blue. He wished Abel had the opportunity to watch life run from his eyes, the same way Cain had to that night.

“I didn’t know it was you.'' Cain choked on his words, like his body rejecting the idea of telling the truth. But he did. He hated the truth but he knew that it was the truth. “If I did… I swear to you If I didn’t pull that stupid trigger…”

“Cain, you left me.” Abel motioned towards the bottles lying on the ground. Cain was literally drowning in them. “I hope you know you left me after they died.” He watched as his brother breathed in, letting the oxygen reach every part of his body before saying his next words. “And for what?! You’re next fix!? Why did you do this to me!?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Cain whispered. Both brothers released a bittersweet laugh at his remark, as if both knew that the question was rhetorical. Both knew what the answer was.

“I loved you Abe. I did.” That phrase spilled from Cain’s lips like honey and lava at the same time. Abel sat down next to him on the couch, the rifle remained still in his firm grip. Cain had never seen his brother grasp a gun like that. He didn’t even know that Abel knew how. How many worlds away had Abel been from him?

“You know what? I loved you too, Cain. And I really believed in you. My brother, Cain O'Sullivan! The strong young man who lost both his parents. He takes such good care of his lass brother, forget the fact that you were a monster'! If only they knew the truth Cain. What would happen then?” Cain thought of an answer to that question. No one actually knew what life was like for the two brothers behind closed doors. The trauma tied to that home lingered in each crack and crevice, filling their lungs and minds with its presence. Even on rare days where they tried to be happy, the feeling remains unwavered. It stood like a statue in a barren wasteland.

Cain wasn’t sure of how long he was going to last. He could inform Abel of his ponderance, but his brother already had the answer.

Abel reached out for Cain’s hands, the feeling skin against skin being otherworldly for the two to experience. As the rifle was placed in his grasp, Cain noted the sight just outside the window. The sun peered her head through the window, perhaps taking pity on the cold shell that was his home. Has something new really begun? Was it worth seeing this time? Was it ever?

“You don’t need me to tell you what’s next, right?” Cain heard Abel, but his presence vanished within the sun’s molten gaze. Maybe he could meet his brother in a different way. To make amends for his actions. If that was ever a glimmer of possibility for Cain, he’d have to start with this.

He placed the bore to his chin, breathing in one last breath of the world’s devout presence before–

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

[wonderstruckdance]

original works ♥️

ricochet

[wonderstruckdance]

fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood masterlist 🫂

coming soon!

[wonderstruckdance]

the legend of zelda masterlist 🦋

note: i write mostly for link’s reincarnations in botw and tp, as well as the champions/champion descendants fron botw. excited to see what totk will bring :)

BACK WHEN I WAS LIVING FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL 1

botw! link x reader, slight angst, multi part

[wonderstruckdance]

my hero academia masterlist 💐

note: this is predominantly for the tdrk brothers and shinso, though if requested i’ll write for other characters

TIME MOVED TOO FAST, YOU PLAYED IT BACK

touya todoroki x reader, slight nsfw

I ONCE BELIEVED LOVE WOULD BE BURNING RED

shouto todoroki x reader, angst, rushed 😭

HOW’D WE END UP ON THE FLOOR ANYWAY?

touya todoroki x reader, slightly more nsfw

[wonderstruckdance]

bungou stray dogs masterlist🥂

I DIDNT HAVE IT IN MYSELF TO GO WITH GRACE

chuuya nakahara x reader, slight angst

STARS BY THE POCKETFUL

atsushi nakajima x reader, sexual themes

[wonderstruckdance]

masterlists ♥️

bar lupin (bsd)

the yearbook (bnha)

petals of the princess (tloz)

a brothers tale (fmab)

making a lark of the misery

i do take requests but the content, such as nsfw, will vary dependent on the character. i hope you enjoy!