#let it be known that THIS is what happens when you infect and inspire my dumbass brain...

[thedreamlessnights]

Someone to shed some light - pt. 2

Astarion x gn!reader (Upcoming NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: During your honeymoon, you learn that the prince is much more than meets the eye.

Warnings: Blood drinking, brief mentions of nausea, neglected parenting. Brief, non-graphic descriptions of injuries. Insinuations of abuse.

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support on the first chapter! This idea has taken over my life and I'm so happy to see that you all feel the same way about the concept of Prince Astarion. All the comments truly made my day and inspired me so much, so thank you! Without further ado, enjoy chapter two!

You’ve been infected by this place from the very first day.

You hadn’t realized it then, standing in front of Erelin with shaking hands, swallowing down a feeling that you couldn’t quite describe. It was nothing as simple as loss, or raw as grief; not large, or sharp, or invasive. Just a small, quiet numbness that you couldn’t pinpoint the cause of. Not at the time, at least. 

You certainly hadn’t known that it would spread through you like a disease. Little pieces of aching, eating you away from the inside out until you became one big, empty thing. And yet, now that the feeling is whole, it’s become all too clear. Now, as you lay in a warm bed with a stranger at your side, you can finally place it. 

Your own life is being robbed from you. 

One by one, experiences that should be yours, that should be special, are stolen away. They’re replaced by memories that are boring, or empty, or tainted. Occasions that come without an ounce of substance. Your wedding… gods, it was meant to mean something. It was supposed to be a day shared with someone you care about, not someone you barely tolerate. 

And now, here you are, about to be dragged off for your honeymoon, and it feels more like an extended form of torture than time spent with a loved one.

Granted, none of this is Astarion’s fault. He’s lost just as much as you have from this whole affair, if not more. Still, that knowledge doesn’t stop the sensation of loss. It’s bad enough to not be in control, but it’s so much worse knowing what could have been. 

Even before the sun rises, the thought disrupts your sleep, keeps you awake in the early silence. Perhaps you should let it go, but you can’t bear to discard the pieces of your old life so easily. If you’d had your way, your wedding would have been fun. Dancing, singing, laughing - real laughing, that is. Cal would have given a toast, and you wouldn’t have had to lie about being in love. It would have been the truth. You would have just been allowed to be. You and whoever it would have been, that is.

Gods, the only time you’d really even felt anything of substance yesterday was during the kiss. And you hadn’t meant to. It had just… happened. His hand on your jaw, your hand fixed tight to his shirt. It’s not even been a day, but you already know one thing for certain: that small, sweet taste of something real is going to drive you mad for the rest of your life.

You’re almost grateful when a knock comes at the door, even though you don’t move. You’re warm and entirely comfortable, and getting up means talking and feeling used and a number of other things that you can’t quite force yourself to face yet. Then another knock comes, louder this time, and the person next to you stirs.

From his side of the bed, Astarion sits up, swearing under his breath. “Yes, we’re up!” he calls, his voice tinged with sleep.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, and despite his promise of being up, Astarion slumps right back into bed. He looks… peaceful, almost. Mussed hair. A completely relaxed face. You’d like to join him in sleeping, but you don’t dare. He may not be afraid of his mother, but you certainly are.

When you finally get to your feet, you find that the servants have left you an outfit in the nearby closet. You’re halfway through getting dressed when - from the sound of it - Astarion finally gets out of bed, letting out another round of curses. When you emerge from the curtain, he’s combing his hair, not bothering to use the mirror. 

The mirror that… isn’t there, you realize. There’s not one to be found in the entire room, not even on the vanity. Do they want you to go out looking like a mess?

Astarion doesn’t seem concerned in the least. He grabs a change of clothes, slips behind the curtain, and looks as pristine as ever when he comes out. You envy him and despise him all at once.

After a short while, another knock sounds at the door before it flies open, revealing a very tired Erelin. Dark circles rim her eyes again. She moves slowly, grimacing - as if the very act of having her eyes open brings her pain. “Good. You’re dressed,” she says. “Come along now, you’d better eat. The carriage will be here soon.”

Once you get to the kitchens, you start shoveling food in your mouth to get out in time. Astarion, meanwhile, disappears. You’re not sure where he goes, but he doesn’t return until after you’ve eaten. When he gets back, he says nothing to you, and you suppose it’s not any of your business. Which doesn’t stop you from wondering where he’d gone.

After being shoved into the carriage along with some pre-packed suitcases, you and Astarion mostly sit in silence. He looks deep in thought, and you have no idea what to talk to him about. You’re not sure if you even want to talk to him. After a while, he pulls out a book and begins reading, and you curse yourself for not thinking to bring anything to keep yourself entertained.

You haven’t the faintest clue where you’re going. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if you knew? Is Astarion in the dark just as much as you are, or has his mother been giving him the privilege of actually knowing what his life will look like? 

A sudden flare of anger tears through your chest like a heated dagger, and you have to clench your hands into fists to avoid doing something you regret. 

You hate this. All of it. How powerless you are to it, the loss of the control you’d once had. Two months ago, you were waking up in your own home, going wherever you pleased, never being told what to wear or how to act. Now you’re stuck in this world, being used, ignored, or having your skin practically scrubbed off, and for what? A selfish political move? A kingdom you’ve never even seen? 

These rebels - they’re putting their lives on the line with their displays, but can the kingdom of Calthir really represent something worth that much risk? You don’t even have a clue. Perhaps if you’d been raised with a better knowledge of it, but no, Cal had taken special measures to keep you in the dark . You’re really only certain of one thing: if the queen had wanted you to marry her only son, then she must have been scared. These can’t have been miniscule protests. There must be something larger at hand; a movement, or uprising. 

You’re curious about what these people are like, but you’re far more interested to see what they would think of you. Would you disappoint them? Do they despise you for having taken the safe route - for choosing this life over torture, or dying for a kingdom you’ve never known?

Yet… Erelin hadn’t wanted to kill you. She’d still had a use for you then. What would happen if that use suddenly went away, now that it’s been put into motion? You hadn’t considered it when you were in front of her, honestly. You’d thought only of survival, because that’s all you’ve ever really known. How to take care of yourself.

So what would happen if you were to swing open the door of the carriage and jump? To run as fast as your feet could carry you, hiding among the woods until finding shelter?

You have nothing with you but the clothes on your back - the ridiculously heavy ones. Not exactly an ideal for sprinting through the woods, and that’s not even mentioning all the other factors. No weapons, no supplies. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that it’s been set up that way. 

Still, you do know your way around plants, and you can track and hunt. You could probably pick up some meals here or there. You doubt Astarion would really care if you left. He’d probably be delighted, in fact.

But would it be enough to get by? Could you outrun her men, hide your tracks well enough to get away? Would you live a life of freedom, or would she drag you right back? And for the love of the gods, why hadn’t you thought about this before getting married? 

It’s like you’ve been sleeping for the last month. You’re finally awake, finally aware of what a full life of this will mean and just how suffocating it is. You want nothing more than to jump out and never return, but the side of you that wants you to survive rather than live is holding on by its nails.

For a long while, you consider it - adding up your skills in your mind as if they’ll reach a threshold that says, alright, jump, you’ll make it through. But the threshold doesn’t exist. There is no ‘right’ number of skills that will tell you whether or not you’ll get away, or if you’ll make it out there and find your freedom again.

“You shouldn’t do it, you know,” Astarion tells you, stirring you from your thoughts. His book has been set on his thigh, and he’s watching you intently. He couldn’t possibly know what you’re thinking. Could he?

You force your expression into something nonchalant. “Do what?” you ask.

“Run.” He tilts his head, analyzing your expression as he drums his fingers on the book’s cover. “You are thinking of it, aren’t you? She’d never let you get away.”

You don’t have to ask who he’s referring to - though, part of you wonders whether he’s trying to scare you. His loyalties surely would lie with his mother over you. He could be trying to get you to stay, knowing that your disappearance will cause her a massive headache. Or… knowing that you actually have a chance to get away.

When you say nothing, he shakes his head. “Don’t be a fool, darling. She took your blood. It’ll be used to track you, and she won’t be so polite when you get dragged back. She can’t stand when something of hers gets taken away.”

You’re so repulsed by being described as something of hers that your nails dig into your palms, stinging at the already-raw flesh. Erelin doesn’t own you. You aren’t… some trinket of hers. Gods. Can you even believe a word Astarion is saying? Your head is telling you that he’s lying for her, but… for some reason, your gut is telling you it’s the truth.

Then, a horrific thought crosses your mind.

“Will she hurt you if I go?” you ask.

He scoffs. “Her cherished heir?” he asks mockingly. “She wouldn’t dream of it. It’s you she’ll hurt, dearest, not me.”

A million questions run through your mind as you stare at him, trying desperately to decipher his motives. “Then why say anything? You don’t care what happens to me.”

He tilts his head. “How very true - I don’t! So glad we’ve gotten that out of the way.” He pauses. “That being said, this carriage ride is incredibly long, and if you jump out and run, it’ll take even longer. We’ll have to stop the carriage, the guards will have to get off and find you - oh, and they will find you, by the way. In the meantime, I’ll have to sit here, waiting even longer for your ridiculous debacle to end. So, pretty please, spare me your little escape, and just keep put, hm?”

His words sink in slowly, seeping through you like poison. Spite has never been so potent. It floods your senses, settles on your tongue with a strangely metallic aftertaste, washes over your vision in a sheen of red. Your hand places itself on the door handle of the carriage and almost, almost, tugs it open, wanting nothing more than to make him sit and wait. 

Gods, he’s intolerable. 

Still, you have the feeling that your opening to escape has come and gone. You’re not exactly keen on getting tortured, so... another time, maybe. When you have a better chance at survival. For now, you don’t dare to speak to Astarion again, lest you bite off your tongue in anger - or worse. 

When the two of you finally arrive at your destination, a guard opens the door for you. Behind him, a cool breeze floods into the stuffy carriage, and you’re more than happy to jump out and follow as long as it means getting away from Astarion. 

This place is so large you can hardly believe it exists. Thick stone pillars form the foundations of a giant building, looming in the midst of thick brush. There are trees as far as the eye can see, and birds sing in the distance. You can hear a stream somewhere near - you’ll have to take a look around, if they let you. You have to admit, this place really isn’t so bad. 

If only Astarion wasn’t here. 

The next few days pass by quickly, half decent and half miserable. The guards let you take walks as long as you’re in clear sight, and you spend most of the time in an open clearing with your feet dipped into the nearby stream, reveling in the plant life around you. You start sneaking things, too - foods that’ll keep for a while, a silver necklace, a knife from dinner. It’s not very sharp, but it’s better than nothing. 

The miserable bit comes any time you’re forced to spend with Astarion, which - unfortunately - is a large amount of time. The guards take you both into town, and the two of you walk through the shops arm in arm, pretending that you don’t hate each other. His pet names become more pointed. You often fantasize about digging an elbow into his ribs. You go to bed at an early hour to avoid speaking to him, and you ignore each other in the mornings. It’s better that way.

A few days into this schedule, something strange pulls you from your sleep. Half-awake, you just manage to register the soft, nearly imperceptible sound of Astarion slipping from the bed. You keep your eyes closed and remain silent, listening to the whisper-quiet sound of his footsteps before the door creaks open and clicks shut. 

And where are you going, Astarion? you think to yourself. It’s much too late for any remotely normal activities to be taking place out there, but you aren’t in much of a mood to move. For a few minutes, you lay in bed, waiting for him to return, but when your eyelids grow too heavy to keep open, you decide that it really isn’t that important to you. 

He’s back in the morning, and you don’t mention his absence.

The next night, though, your growing curiosity demands an experiment: staying up to see if he’ll leave again. It takes hours of waiting in silence, trying to keep your mind active so you don’t drift off. You think about everything you possibly can: Astarion, Cal, your home. Erelin, the wedding, Astarion. Damn him. If only you could wipe your mind clear of him and be done with it. 

Just as you’re about to give into sleep, he finally stirs. 

He slips out of bed like a ghost, nothing but the whisper of sheets and soft, cautious steps. Has he been doing this every night? Is it a form of strange royal ritual? You wouldn’t put it above him or Erelin to be bathing in blood to keep forever young, honestly. But when the door creaks shut behind him, you shoot up, wide awake and heart pounding like a drum.

You really shouldn’t follow him. Gods - of course you shouldn’t. Who knows what the hells he’s up to, or what he’d do if he catches you. Still… the image of him in the gardens, bloody and imperfect, hasn’t left your mind for even a moment since you’d met him. Not fully. 

The unsaid question churns like an itch in your mind, never finding any relief and never, ever waning. If what he’s doing now is any explanation for that, then you need to know. Your feet are on the floor before you know it - you’re following after him like someone possessed, gingerly shutting the door behind you. Well, if nothing else, this should be interesting.

Astarion is already much further down the hall, stepping quickly and lightly, and within moments you’re trailing him - which is not an easy task. He’s surprisingly stealthy and you have to keep a healthy distance, ducked into the shadows and desperately trying to keep quiet. The air is so cold that your teeth nearly start chattering, and all the moving around you’re doing barely helps.

What is he up to at this hour, sneaking around like this? And where in the hells are all the guards? They’d been there earlier, staring at you as if warning you not to try anything. Now, they’re all missing. Or… posted somewhere else.

When you realize he’s headed straight into the forest, your suspicions triple. You even pause a moment, frozen as you take in the dark shadows of the trees. There could be any number of things in those woods, and you’re not dressed for any of the possible occasions. Then again, neither is he, and you don’t want to have come all this way only to turn back now. 

Apparently, your self-preservation is particularly lacking tonight. You keep following.

Astarion treks through the woods with velvet tread, slipping nimbly across the branches and roots. Your feet mirror his movements as best as you can, but it really is a marvel how he moves like that. When he comes to a sudden stop, you’re forced to shield yourself behind a tree and wait it out, praying you won’t lose him. 

For a moment, there’s only the faint howling of the wind and the rustling of leaves. Then, a sharp squeal. Your hands start trembling. Your mouth goes dry.

As you finally find it in yourself to look, it takes a moment to find Astarion among the shadows, the silver veil of moonlight that streams through the leaves. When you do, you just about bite off your tongue trying not to make a noise.

Below him is a dead boar, and - well, he’s drinking from it. Or, to be more specific, drinking its blood. 

Something in you gives way. Your ears ring, and your body shudders - a dark realization churning deep in your gut. Something else, too. A strange sort of heat, coursing through your veins. You have to lean against the tree just to avoid slumping to the ground. 

As soon as you’ve gained an ounce of sense again, you hide yourself completely, press your forehead against the dry, rough bark, and try to gather your thoughts. 

Astarion. A vampire. Well… it’s one thing. But he also happens to be the prince and heir to the throne, and that’s what’s making this realization so impactful. If people got word about this - if they found out what he really was - gods, there would be… riots. An amount of protest you can’t even fathom. No wonder Erelin’s been hiding him away. No wonder the wedding was full of pompous idiots - people who wouldn’t even consider putting two and two together. 

Really, when you think about it, this answers a lot of your questions: why he never eats with you, why he’s so cold to the touch all the time. Why his shirt collars are so high and stiff on his neck, and no mirrors ever seem to be in your room. Gods. You’re pathetic. All this time you’ve been thinking about him, studying him from the sidelines, so how could you have not connected it sooner? Gods.

Still… it’s insane. Absolutely insane. And there are several things which don’t add up, frankly. For one, he’s able to stand in the sunlight without burning up. You’ve seen that with your own eyes. If he’s really a vampire, then how does that work? 

But who knows - all those tales might be myths. After all, you’ve never actually met someone who could verify their truth. Maybe… maybe you’ve got it all wrong. Or, maybe, you’re simply dreaming.

You decide to chance another glance around the tree, but when the forest comes into focus, Astarion isn’t there. The only thing that remains is the sudden, bleeding silence, the boar’s corpse, and the moonlight. 

Well, shit.

As you stare at the empty space, wondering if he’d noticed you, a strange sensation trickles down your neck - one you can only just place the feeling of. 

You’re not alone. 

Without another thought, you take off running. The wind whips past your cheeks, as stinging as ice in the forest’s chill. Adrenaline floods through you, fiery and restless in your veins, dulling down the rest of the world. The outside world and the inside of you are brutal contrasts - fire and ice, melding into your skin. You’re just thinking you’ll make it out when something locks around you from behind, knocking you off balance. 

You hit the ground hard, tumbling against the dirt and dry roots, scraping your knees and drawing a vicious sting, and immediately push yourself back up. Something in your leg twinges, but it fades. Then, a pair of hands grab you, and despite the incredible show you make of punching, kicking, and squirming, Astarion has you pinned against a tree within moments, breathing heavily. 

“Enjoying the show, were you?” he asks.

You attempt to kick him again, and quickly find your leg pinned against the tree, too. “Settle down,” he instructs.

Once it’s clear that he has you completely trapped, you relent into his grasp and try to calm yourself. “You’re a vampire,” you say breathlessly.

“Guilty as charged,” he purrs. “Any other obvious statements to make, darling?”

You struggle to get away once again and he presses harder against you, his face inches from yours. “Careful,” he murmurs, leaning toward your ear. “I bite.”

You can smell the fragrance on him. Bergamot. Rosemary. You hate him. 

“Let me go,” you demand, struggling again in vain.

He tilts his head, studying your face in the darkness. “No, I don’t think I will,” he says. “I want to know what that pretty little head of yours is up to.”

You take in a deep breath, attempting to slow your thoughts into something coherent. “Does your mother know?”

He scoffs. “Of course she does. She’s the one keeping my… ‘condition’ hidden.”

“Who else?”

“Oh, her advisor. A few servants. The guards. Why?”

“But… you can walk in sunlight. How?”

“So funny you should ask,” he says. “You see, I went to bed one night, cozy as can be, and woke up the next day unable to move and in blinding pain. Turns out, my mother had some form of magical object placed in my head. But now, I can go in the sun, cross thresholds all I please, and break all sorts of other vampire rules. Convenient, isn’t it?”

You stare at him in horror. “I thought you said she would never hurt you.”

Something flickers across his face for a moment before he’s back to scowling. “Yes, well,” he says. “That depends on your definition of hurt, doesn’t it? To her, she’s doing me a favour. Making me… ‘normal’ again.”

Anger coils in your gut, hot and dark - but for the first time, it’s not directed at him. “And to you?”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” he says. “Not to her, and not to anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” you respond.

“Of course it is. All that matters is that she gets what she wants.”

Your jaw clenches. “I… I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you run from her, then? The guards don’t follow you around like they do with me.”

“Run?” he asks incredulously. “Gods. Didn’t you hear what I was telling you earlier? She can��t stand having something of hers taken away. And I, darling, just like you, happen to be on that list.” His weight on you loosens a little. “Besides. I’ve had quite enough of running for my tastes, thank you.”

So he has run. That must have been how he knew what you were thinking about. But if he’d run, and it wasn’t from his mother… “Then who did you run from?” you ask. “And - your mother clearly isn’t a vampire. Who turned you?”

His hold on you tightens almost imperceptibly. “That,” he says, “happens to be none of your business.”

He finally releases you, analyzing you for a moment as he steps back. His exhale comes out in a sharp rush of air. “You should go back to the room,” he says. “I wouldn’t run if I were you, but… you already know that, don’t you?”

There’s a long beat as you try to decide how to answer him. 

All thoughts of running have faded to the back of your mind. You’re intrigued, horrified, and who knows what else, and with the way your mind is spinning, you barely know how to speak, much less pick yourself up and make a break for it.

“Alright,” you finally reply. You hesitate for a moment, turning to look back at him, and he doesn’t meet your eyes. “Astarion…”

“Yes?” 

“I… I’m sorry for what happened to you. Really, I am.”

He doesn’t react, even though you’re watching for it like a hawk. “The way you’re shivering, you’re going to catch something, you know,” he replies. “I’d rather not have to explain to my mother why you died of hypothermia.”

He’s right. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you’re shaking like a leaf. And… you have no idea what else to say. Without another word, you trek back to your room as if in a trance, and find yourself asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Astarion is absent the next morning when you wake, but you find him on your usual visit to the clearing, basking in the sun. His head is tilted back, his eyes are closed, and he looks, frankly, like a sleeping cat sunbathing under a patch of sunlight.

How long had he gone without feeling the sun on his skin? You can’t even imagine it. It sounds completely miserable. No promises of life-long youth or power could ever get you to sign that away - though, for some reason, you get the feeling he hadn’t had much of a choice.

“Nice place, isn’t it?” you ask, taking a seat a few feet away from him.

With a sigh, he opens his eyes and straightens up, propping his arms over his knees. “You know, my sweet, following people around is typically considered to be rude.”

“You’re in my spot, actually,” you inform him. “Ask the guards. I come here all the time.”

“Is that so?” he asks. “In that case, deepest apologies. I’ll only intrude a little longer.” 

He goes back to sunbathing, and the two of you sit in silence for a while. You take to your usual habit of dipping your feet in the stream, running your hands over the soft ferns nearby. When you glance back at Astarion, you find him watching you.

“I wondered what the hells you were doing in the gardens that night,” he muses. “Fond of nature?”

You give a light shrug. “I’m fond of anything that gets me away from that castle. I couldn’t sleep that night.” You hesitate for a moment, hands going still among the ferns. “As for here, well… it’s the same thing. I can’t stand being cooped up in there, so I come out here and sit.”

“And what a charming little spot you’ve found,” Astarion replies. “I suppose I’ll have to be faster next time around.”

You shrug. “I might consider sharing it if you behave, you know.”

He quirks a brow. “Oh? And what does this ‘behaving’ involve, exactly?”

You lean forward, gesturing loosely. “Not being a… how should I put this. Devious bastard?”

He smiles, flashing a hint of his fangs. “Darling, that happens to be my best feature.”

Have you never seen his fangs before, or had he never smiled with his teeth? You can’t quite recall, but it must be the latter. 

You huff in response, skimming your fingers along the surface of the stream. You doubt he really cares about this place, but he had looked very comfortable sunbathing. Is it something he does often? If you were in his position, you’d be in the light as much as you could.

“The first time you went in the sun again - was it strange?” you ask him. “I… can’t imagine what it must be like. Only knowing darkness.”

He tilts his head, mulling over the thought for a moment. “Well. I was rather afraid I’d be burned into a crisp at the start, but - once that’d passed, it was…” He pauses, measuring his words, and his expression softens, as if he’s reliving the feeling of it now. “It was nice. I hadn’t felt warmth on my skin in years... I could scarcely believe it. Sometimes, I still think I’m going to be burned alive.”

Something deep in your chest aches for him, locked in the dark for who knows how long. Had his mother forced him out into the sun? Had they even known if the object in his brain would actually protect him?

“Can I ask you something else?”

He gives you an amused look. “You already have, but do carry on.”

You go back to running your hands through the ferns, gently tugging the plants against your fingers. “Do you ever wish they hadn’t put that thing in your head?”

His brows rise, and that softness briefly runs over his features again. A flash of genuinity. “I…” He shakes his head. “You’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you? No. Of course I don’t. Being in the dark, having to be invited in… it was miserable. I’ve never felt better. Naturally, I wish they’d asked first.”

“Then why didn’t they? It benefits you more than them, doesn’t it?”

He fixes you with a pointed look. “Asking is not something my mother is used to.”

Before you can formulate a response, Astarion sighs, getting to his feet and dusting away stray flecks of grass and dirt on his trousers. “On that note, I suppose I’ll see you later. I’m sure they’ll be driving us into town and parading us around again.”

“Wonderful,” you reply dully. “I can’t wait.”

He smiles again. “My dear, neither can I.”

It’s only a few days later that the two of you wind up in the carriage ‘home’ again, waiting out the long journey back. Once again, you have no entertainment for yourself, but your thoughts occupy you. Astarion naps and reads, mostly.

Until the carriage comes to a sudden stop, much too early. He opens his eyes and sits up, looking out the window with sudden interest.

“Is it too much to hope that we’re already there?” you ask.

“No, we can’t be there yet. Something’s happening,” he replies. He leans closer to the glass to see, and clicks his tongue. “Well, my sweet - looks like we’re taking a detour.”

“A detour?” you echo. The view outside your window shows absolutely nothing, and you’re itching to know what’s happening. You prop yourself up to your feet, hunched over in the tiny box, and just as you lean over him, the carriage suddenly jolts - sending you tumbling straight down into Astarion’s lap.

Then, the horses start running like the gods themselves are chasing them, and everything turns into a state of sheer chaos. You’re trying to push yourself off of him, he isn’t helping you at all, and every sharp curve of the road sends you straight back where you started. 

“You know, darling, if you wanted to sit in my lap, you could have just asked,” Astarion tells you. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you tell him, grimacing with effort as you try to push off of him again. “Astarion, will you help me?” 

His hands finally grip your waist, and you can feel their chill even through the fabric of your clothes. Then, as you leverage your arm on the side of the carriage to push away from him, he lifts you off - neatly placing you on the seat. Only, the carriage tilts again, and this time you find yourself smushed into his shoulder.

Astarion curses under his breath, bracing against the carriage wall. “Really, you’d think they were trying to kill us!”

You shut your eyes, letting out a huff. “How do we know they aren’t?”

“Because if they do, my mother will most certainly kill them.”

The wheels are rattling now, bouncing along what must be cobblestone. Acid churns in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance - but, if you are determined of one thing, you will not throw up on Astarion.

“What if we got kidnapped?” you ask, swallowing hard. “What if the guards are dead?”

“Trust me,” Astarion says. “I would have smelled their blood.”

It isn’t very reassuring, but it’s something. 

It seems like hours that this goes on, but it can’t be more than a few minutes before the carriage finally slows and rolls to a stop. You fling the door open and stumble out, gasping in fresh air and trying to settle your stomach.

“Apologies for the, er, rough ride. We had a change of plans,” the guard says. “Urgent orders from the queen. We’re to keep you here until further notice.”

You only see where here is when you straighten up, looking around. This place could not be more of the opposite from where the two of you had just come from - no trees, no greenery. It’s a small stone building in the middle of a deserted alleyway. You’re somewhere in the city.

“Did she happen to say why?” Astarion asks.

The guard shrugs. “Confidential information, I’m afraid.”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “Of course. What else did I expect?”

With a sweep of the guard’s arm, the two of you are ushered inside. And so begins the worst part of your honeymoon. 

For the next several days, the two of you are locked inside with the guards. The building is hot and stuffy, and there’s no reprieve in any of the rooms. You’re not allowed to leave, not even momentarily, and there is nothing to do.

Most times, you find yourself pacing around, wanting to rip your hair out in frustration. Astarion seems to feel the same, although he keeps his distance from you. The loneliness only makes the suffocation worse.

At night, you toss and turn, aching for any amount of freedom. It’s bordering on unbearable. If the guards weren’t on such high alert, you’d make a break for it, but there’s no doubt you’d end up skewered rather than free. The only good thing about being here is that you end up adding two things to your little bag of stolen objects: another knife (a good sharp one, this time), and a small flask of whiskey for the unbearable moments.

The food they serve is bland and stale, but you’re at least being fed. Astarion, as you come to realize, is not so lucky. There’s not a living creature to be found in this place that he could feed on. Even the rats stay away. 

You only notice it a few days in - the restlessness in him, the way he can’t seem to stand being around you. The dark circles under his eyes, and his unusually quick temper. He’s starving. And, if the guards have noticed, they’ve done nothing.

Had Erelin even thought of how this would affect her son? Does she even care? What kind of a mother is she, leaving him like this, keeping him like a prisoner? The thought of her lounging around in silk robes, any food she wants at the tip of her fingers, is enough to have you scathing. 

Well, if she won’t do anything, you will. You just have to figure out how, considering that Astarion avoids you like the plague as of late. In the meantime, you’ll think of what to say.

For the next few days, you two dance around each other. You don’t want to overstep or press his boundaries, but he seamlessly spends as much time away from you as he possibly can. He even sleeps in a different room. When he is with you, it’s in front of the guards - which is most certainly not how you’d like the conversation to go. So you wait.

Until, one night, in one of the empty bedrooms, you finally manage to corner him. Or, at least, you enter it without him immediately leaving. It’s progress, at least. You shut the door behind you and try to ease the shaking of your hands.

You’d had a whole spiel planned out about how he shouldn’t be treated like this, how you would like to give his mother a piece of your mind, about how you’re happy to give him some of your blood, but the sight of him wipes it clear from your mind. What instead comes out is this: 

“Astarion, I… um. Are you hungry?” 

As soon as the words are out, you find yourself cringing. Gods, of course he’s hungry. That’s why you’re here!

Astarion turns to look at you, wearing an expression that’s incredibly unimpressed. “Why?” he asks sharply. “Planning to bake me a treat?”

You fold your arms over your chest, fighting the urge to sigh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Astarion, but I do happen to have blood.”

For a moment, he actually looks… stunned. His brows raise, and his expression softens up as he stares at you, as if he’s somehow imagined the words. “Hm? I - of course I know that.” He scowls at you, then, after a moment of hesitation, softens again. “It’s just that… well, people aren’t usually keen on me taking that blood.”

“You could have asked me,” you point out. “We are married.”

Astarion tilts his head. “Darling, I honestly didn’t think you’d agree,” he says, taking a step toward you. His gaze is inquisitive, intrigued, and most of all, slowly growing dark with hunger. “Need I remind you - you did run from me in the forest.”

Your cheeks burn, but you manage to spit out the words. “I ran because you caught me spying on you, Astarion, not because you’re a vampire.”

He tilts his head, suddenly looking incredibly smug. “Oh, so you admit it? That you were spying on me?”

Gods, this is not going well.

You bury your face in your hands for a moment and take in a deep breath, collecting yourself. “Alright. Yes, I was spying on you. I woke up when you were leaving one night, and I was curious. Are you satisfied?”

“I think I am,” Astarion answers, smirking as he looks at you - the cat who ate the canary. “You were saying?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I was saying that - that I have blood, and… gods, Astarion! You know what I was saying.”

“I do,” he replies, stepping closer again. Close enough to wonder if he can hear your heart racing. “Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he continues, his eyes lingering on your neck before moving up to your face. “Volunteering like this. But if you’re sure…?”

Despite the slight shiver that runs through you, you keep his gaze. “I’m sure.” It’s all you’ve thought about for the last few days, after all. You’d much rather go through a short little bite than watch him suffer any longer.

“Well then,” he murmurs, and his tone has turned smoother, deeper. Almost… sensual, you realize, suddenly feeling like you might melt away into nothingness. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

He motions to the bed in the corner, and you slink over to it like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. You really, really shouldn’t be affected by this. By him. Usually, this sort of thing wouldn’t work at all with you. For some reason, he’s different.

Or, just very, very good at it.

The bed is soft when you stretch out on it, trying your best to relax as the silky sheets slide against your fingers. Astarion sits next to you, leaning onto his side and propping himself over you.

Your heart starts pounding even harder.

“Don’t worry,” he says in that same sultry tone, skimming his knuckles over your jaw. “I’ll be gentle.”

As if that’s supposed to help you relax.

He leans in, and you barely have time to register the ghost of his breath against your skin before his fangs sink into your neck.

The pain is sharp, stinging, and cold - spreading through your skin like a shard of ice. It fades away after a moment, leaving nothing but the slight pull of your blood leaving your body, and - more noticeably - the feeling of Astarion over you. However intimate you’d imagined this would be, it’s a hundred times more. Every little sensation is intensified to the point that you can barely breathe.

He’s all you can think of. You’re acutely aware of the hand that lightly grips your shoulder, then slowly slides up to support the back of your head. The smell of him is everywhere now, heady and enticing as he leans further into you. And… there’s the knowledge that the taste of you is on his tongue.

Gods, you almost don’t want it to stop.

Almost.

Because beyond everything else, there’s a growing numbness that frightens you. A… coldness. Like something in you is slowly being stolen away. You’re just about to ask him to stop when a loud metallic crashing rings out just outside of the closed door and sends you flinching into his teeth. Astarion comes back to himself and gently pulls away, breathing heavily.

Slowly, he sits up. For a moment, there’s only silence, and you’re worried that - well… You’re worried about a thousand things. That something had gone wrong. That it hadn’t been enough. Or, maybe, that something is so very wrong with you that it’s seeped deep into your blood and tainted the taste. 

When you push yourself upright, a faint wave of dizziness washes over you, blurring your vision over as your head swims. The sensation passes quickly, leaving behind only a slight throbbing in your skull. You’ve felt much worse in your life. 

“Are you alright?” you ask Astarion, your gaze sweeping over him as if it might help you read his thoughts.

“Alright?” he repeats breathlessly. He swipes his thumb over the corner of his lip, letting out a light, airy laugh. “I - I’m more than alright. That was… amazing. I feel strong. Happy.” He pauses a moment, catching his breath. “Gods, I… I don’t know the last time I felt like this.”

His cheeks have the faintest bit of flush when he comes out of his euphoria, finally seeming to actually see you. You like that flush, but not as much as you like the way he’s looking at you. He regards you in a way you haven’t seen before - almost admirable, if you didn’t know better.

His head tilts, and he leans back, resting a hand on the bed to support him. “I have to admit… you’re full of surprises.”

For some reason, your cheeks turn as hot as the hells. Was this room always this stuffy? You can’t even remember. All you can recall is Astarion’s cool, soothing touch against your skin. Fingers skimming over your jaw. His teeth in your neck. 

Gods, you’re done for.

“Am I?” you manage to ask. “Good ones, I hope.”

“That,” he says teasingly, “remains to be seen.” He glances at the door, frowning, then slowly gets to his feet. “Well. I’d better go see what that noise was. We wouldn’t want our guards in danger, after all.” He hesitates for a moment, his back facing you, and when he speaks again, his tone is soft. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

And with that, he leaves the room.

It’s only about ten minutes later that you’re finally able to move.

tags: @awesomebabyyoda

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

[cactusmisslittle]

We're swimming in circles (and we're calling it love) - Waylon Jones x Reader

Summary: You notice that Waylon's skin has been causing him trouble, so you offer to help. Fluff. I didn't have a specific version of Waylon in mind writing this, though he is definitely inspired by his appearance in Batman #471: Requiem for a Killer.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: None, really. Self-esteem issues? But that's sorta par for the course with Waylon

You had known since you had met Waylon that his unusual appearance was caused by a skin disorder. Even so, it didn't occur to you that it caused him any grief outside of aesthetics. That is, of course, until you moved in with him. Immediately thereafter, you started noticing how frequently he scratched at his arms, often without even realizing it.

You worried about him, naturally, but any time you asked if he was alright, he brushed it off. You didn't believe him for a second, of course, but it's hard to force an eight foot tall criminal to take care of himself.

The last straw, though, was when you were making breakfast one morning and he hugged you from behind. You smiled up at him, leaning into his chest with a contented sigh, before the domestic bliss was suddenly cut short by a horrified squawk.

"Waylon!" you scolded, eyes widening as you saw smears of red on your shirt, "You're bleeding!"

You turned to face him, and he looked at your stained shirt with wide eyes. "Shit- I didn't know- Look, I'm real sorry, I'll clean it-"

"I'm not worried about the shirt, dummy!" You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, trying to look as intimidating as you could manage while having to look up at him. "I'm worried about you! Doesn't it hurt?!"

Waylon looked between you and his own arms dumbly, unsure of how to respond. Eventually, he managed a lame, "I done told you, I got a skin problem…"

You took a deep breath. It wasn't his fault, you reminded yourself. He's never cared about his own well-being before, and it's a learning curve.

"Look. There's nothing we can do while it's bleeding but try to keep it from getting infected. But once it's scabbed over, I'm getting you a goddamn lotion, okay?"

Waylon bristled and barked out a bitter laugh. "Oh, sweetheart… It'll take more than a lotion to fix this." He gestured to his body in thinly veiled disgust.

"Waylon, you know damn well that's not what I meant!"

Waylon hesitated, and you realized then that… maybe he didn't. Well… maybe you could kill two birds with one stone, then.

A few days passed before his elbows had healed enough for you to not worry about getting them infected. It was time.

Gently, you guided him to the couch and had him sit down, smiling encouragingly as he looked at you with an anxiously furrowed brow.

"Relax, Waylon," you said softly as you squeezed some cream into your hand, "I've got you."

You smiled and slowly began to rub the lotion into his rough skin, starting with his hands, then slowly working your way up his wrists. His muscles were still drawn up so tightly it seemed they might snap. When he was still just as tense by the time you reached his elbows, you looked up at his face and frowned. His eyes were glazed over, as though seeing right through you, and pinpoints of blood were forming on his lip under the force of sharp teeth.

"Hey…" You let go of his arms and cupped his face gingerly in your hands. "Waylon, look at me. Come back to me, okay?"

This sort of thing wasn't uncommon.. Waylon was so unused to being in a relationship, to being loved in general, that he would get stuck in his head when he didn't know how to process what was happening to him.

Slowly, his eyes focused on you once again and a sigh rumbled in his chest.

"You don't gotta do this," he said, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

You tsk at that and place a small kiss on his forehead, making him smile despite himself.

"Of course I don't. But I love you and I don't like seeing you in pain."

"I know, but…" Waylon was looking at anything but you. "I know my skin ain't too nice to touch. I don't want you… y'know…"

His voice trailed off and threw his head back with a defeated groan. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Let me guess, you think I must surely be disgusted by your skin, and touching you is an ordeal that I'm forcing myself to tolerate for your sake?"

"You gonna tell me it's not?"

"Waylon!" You lifted his face towards your gaze a little more forcefully. "Look at me. Do I look disgusted to you? Do I look like I'm putting myself through something awful?"

"Well… no, but-"

"But nothing." Your hands moved back to his arms, beginning to gently rub his bumpy skin once again. "I love every part of you."

You brought a scaly hand to your lips and pressed tender, feather-light kisses along his knuckles, between his thumb and forefinger, and followed the mount of Venus down to his wrist. His hand was trembling slightly beneath your lips, and when you looked back up at his face, he was blinking rapidly and his lips were pressed tight together. You sighed and worked your hands upwards, rubbing lotion into his upper arms and then his shoulders. You could hear slight sniffles coming from above you, but you knew better than to point them out.

"It's amazing, really," you said breathily, half to yourself as you jumped down to his knees, carefully working around the bloody cracks that had formed from lack of care, "You're so strong, you could probably snap me like a twig if you wanted, but-"

"But I don't want!" Waylon interjected, panic swelling in his chest all over again, "I'd never-"

"-but," you continued patiently, "you can be so gentle. You hold me like I'm made of glass. Always making me feel so safe…"

That did the trick. You felt Waylon's whole body shudder beneath you as he finally relaxed fully. You smiled and worked your way down his shins before deciding that was enough for now. Besides, you were pretty sure that if you went for too much longer, you'd be faced with a very different type of tension. You tucked that tidbit away for a future evening, but for now, you settled next to Waylon on the couch and rested your head on his shoulder. Half in a daze, his arms found their way around you and he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"You doing okay, baby?" you asked gently, rubbing slow circles on his back. His shoulders hitched in a tiny, silent sob before he answered.

"I'm… I'm more than okay." You could feel his smile against your skin. "Dunno what I ever did to deserve you, is all. But… now I got you, I ain't never letting go."

#batman #killer croc #waylon jones #reader insert #killer croc x reader #dc comics #waylon jones x reader

[rawrsatthetree]

Idk how people can make dedicated content for their tav. I have a new Tav every month that I focus on and make a whole story for and ultimately drop for the next Tav to infect my mind.

Anyways my current Tav of the month is a human oath of devotion Paladin with an urchin background who’s an AU version of my dark urge where they aren’t a Bhaalspawn and got to grow up with their foster family instead.

Ala'onna (An Elven name that means keeper of harmony). 26 years old.

They were adopted by their dads, a 300 year old retired paladin dwarf and a 650 year old retired ranger elf, who run a bakery on the outskirts of Riften. They always dreamed of growing up to be an adventurer like their dads, inspired by their many bedtime tales. They spent their childhood running around the lower city and exploring the sewers getting into trouble while their Vul (dwarf dad) would sell baked goods from his cart. They got mixed up with some ruff kids and learned how to swindle and steal. One day a strange pale girl with even paler eyes joined their little group of would be thieves. Everything was fun and games until this strange girl killed one of their friends, pushing him from one of the high city walls and watching with glee as he splattered on the cobblestone below. They watched in anger as flaming fists just shrugged it off and refused to even acknowledge those most in need of protection. They vowed to work hard to become a real hero that would protect everyone who was in need, even those others deem unworthy of protection.

They were on their way back to the city after an adventure to check on their Vul and Ada when they got snatched up by the mindflayers.

When the party got to Baldur’s Gate they were super excited to introduce all the companions to their fathers however they had both decided come out of retirement and went off to fight the Absolute’s army.

They don’t recognize that the pale girl from their childhood was Orin but they do admit she seems hauntingly familiar. They were a bit too young to run around in the same circle as Karlach and a little too low-class to play with Wyll. They had bumped into Astarion before, on a night they were out far later than they were supposed to be, they were dared to pick pocket him since he looked wealthy and stupid. He frightened them off flashing his fangs and glowing red eyes threatening to drain them dry if they didn’t piss off. They refused to sleep alone for the next month waking up from nightmares of a vampire trying to bite them in their sleep. Astarion doesn't remember, but they do. They don't just recognize he's a vampire that night when he tried to bite them, but specifically the vampire that haunted their nightmares as a child.

They think they tread the line of an oath breaker but, for all their grey morality, they always stand up to evil. Even if their definition of evil is a little more fluid and grey. They try not to judge creatures based on what they are or people based on their background. "Stealing is ok, the real evil is the rich that let you starve"; "maybe goblins wouldn't be like that if people treated them with kindness and respect" that sort of thing. This does make them very naive, they're open mind getting in the way when they really shouldn't trust or give people a chance. They fight with themselves to see the good in the world, for them it's a choice they make, in spite of everything. They tend to shoulder too much, when bad things happen it's their fault. They should have been stronger, they should have been quicker, they should have known better.

They actually have a really low constitution for a paladin, it's only 11. Yes they still always use compel duel, yes they go down every other fight, yes Astarion is loosing his mind over his knight in shining armor with a death wish. They also have laughably low wisdom (8) and intelligence (9).

Growing up everyone thought they were actually half dwarf because they're 5'3" and kind of stocky. They're not really self conscious or anything, they know they're muscular (18 strength) and their chubbiness is just proof of being raised in a loving home with good food and lots of bread (their Vul taught them this).

They're Ada was a little more distant from them than their Vul that dotted on them constantly. Not that he didn't love them as much, but being 660 years old will make you a little distant or so their Vul told them. They wouldn't say they have daddy issues since their Vul is also their dad, more specifically they Elf daddy issues. They are embarrassingly desperate for attention and validation from specifically Elven men. Astarion is blissfully unaware of this, of course they want his approval that's what he's manipulating them for. Halsin however knows.

They're not fluent but they can speak and understand a bit of Elvish and Dwarfish as well as some thieves chant.

Their second highest stat is charisma and they love to sing. They swear they should have been a Bard but the schooling is much more expensive than some starter armor, a sword, and an oath.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate 3 tav #my tav #tav #bg3 oc #baldurs gate 3 oc

[wanderdrops]

ALL OF US LOST ~ [DOTAE FIC]

Fic very inspired in the movie All of us strangers. Doyoung is a young writer who has been gaining recognition lately with his sad personal stories. With this, he decides to move to a new building, becoming the first to inhabit it. The second to move in is Lee Taeyong, a music producer and writer who has a somewhat messy life and heart due to a past love. Doyoung doesn't want to get to know him, but Taeyong insists on entering his life. How many times will each of them open the door?

“I knew you weren't sleeping.”

Taeyong had flushed cheeks and a smile that adorned his face. He looked at Doyoung with a joy as if they had known each other since childhood.

“Do you want some?” Taeyong offered him the beer. 

Doyoung, for some reason, accepted it. It was cold and damp. He could feel it on his long fingers. He stared at it, half in disbelief.

“You know, I rang all the buzzers to guess which one was your apartment. You can do those things when you're one of the few people living here…” Taeyong paused to take a sip from his bottle. As he swallowed, he only looked at Doyoung. “Who else would open the door for me?”

Doyoung was silent, and Taeyong's drunkenness wouldn't make him realize he was the only one talking.

The blonde boy leaned on the door frame to approach Doyoung, a gesture that caused him a certain adrenaline rush. There, he noticed he was taller than Taeyong.

“You know we're the only ones here, right?” Taeyong spoke as if he were revealing a secret.

“Yes…”

Doyoung looked at his beer again. Should he be celebrating? His eyes were fixed on the blonde, and he gripped his hand that held the door. "Taeyong is a stranger" he repeated to himself.

“Wait... you're alone, aren't you?”

Taeyong seemed concerned as their eyes met.

“Yes, just me and my computer. In fact, I was working for tomorrow and should finish soon…”

“Working? It's one in the morning, Doyoung.” Taeyong emphasized his name, flashing a mischievous smile. “You should be celebrating. We're the only ones here! How often does that happen in life?”

There it was again, Taeyong answering his thoughts for the second time that night. The blonde seemed good at fitting into his head, and it made him feel a sensation very similar to nausea.

But he also felt that Taeyong was right. The recent events of his life were just situations he couldn't control. Could this be a moment to feel a hint of sway? To remember what autonomy over his own life felt like?

He fixed his eyes on the blonde and loosened his hand that was gripping the door. He let his shoulders drop and looked at the beer.

“Go ahead, I understand.” Taeyong murmured resignedly, taking a step back with his gaze on the ground with a drunk pout in his lips. “I understand because this has always been my life. I've always drunk alone. And now I just... wanted to avoid feeling like this. But I understand that I'm... I just hope that…”

Taeyong was interrupted by the sound of the beer can opening. Eyes on Doyoung and saw a somewhat shy smile on his lips as he savored them after taking a sip. 

“You know what else you can do in an empty building?” Taeyong exclaimed eagerly. To Doyoung, he resembled a small child. His smile reaching to infect his eyes, his somewhat disheveled blonde hair. Doyoung observed it all in a split second.

“Hmm?”

“Drink on the stairs.”

Doyoung let out a small laugh. "The first one of the day," he thought. Self-awareness made him tremble a little, and he allowed himself to be fooled into thinking it was the beer's fault.

“Let's go.” Doyoung said after grabbing his keys and closing the door behind him. “I feel like you have a lot to say, and I'm a good listener.”

Doyoung said those words with compassion. "He's always alone." It was easy for him to ignore that besides pity, he also felt an interest in Taeyong. 

“How could someone like him always feel lonely?”

***

It was cold. November greeted the end of the year and Taeyong and Doyoung were sitting on the emergency exit of the building as if it were spring. The night breeze blew and the smell of whisky permeated the narrow hallway adorned with stairs connected throughout the entire structure. Doyoung couldn't help but think if he should use them to escape something at some point.

In front of them was an opening to the outdoors. Both imagined that each floor had one, and that's why there was a current of air as if they were in a park.

"I have the feeling that no one will ever inhabit this building," Taeyong said with a smile.

Doyoung shrugged and pursed his lips. He looked at his beer and suppressed the urge to drink more: he didn't want it to run out so soon.

"I wouldn't mind," he said.

Taeyong turned slightly to face him. He leaned his back against the wall with a sly smile.

"You're very lonely, aren't you?"

He shrugged again. This time Taeyong imitated him and laughed when Doyoung looked at him with a grimace.

"You have a lonely face," Taeyong said once he became serious.

Doyoung looked him in the eyes and then at his beer. He took a sip. A lonely face. Was there any lie in that?

"Yeah, now I'm very..." Doyoung pursed his lips. "I mean, yeah. I have friends. But... my face speaks for my soul."

Taeyong raised his eyebrows upon hearing this. Doyoung shut himself off in his mind. 

"That was poetic," Taeyong said.

Doyoung let out a shy laugh.

"Yeah, I exaggerated a bit."

"You should be a writer," Taeyong suggested.

Doyoung looked at him with a smile.

"I am a writer."

Taeyong's eyes widened. His lips parted slightly, and he laughed.

"Don't play with me, I'm drunk," Taeyong said with amusement, pointing to his bottle as evidence.

Doyoung was going to shrug, but he chose to smile with a hint of bitterness.

Not receiving much of a response, Taeyong leaned in a bit closer to Doyoung.

"Are you serious?"

"He’s like a little kid," Doyoung thought as he looked at him, smiling at the emotion he saw in him, which was likely exacerbated by alcohol.

"I’m pretty serious," Doyoung assured. "I've written two books. That's why I can be here."

Doyoung spoke with a timid pride that dissipated when he faced the realization that what he had said wasn't entirely true. Doyoung hadn't moved because of finding success. Doyoung moved because he had no other choice.

He glanced again at his beer and drank the last sip from his can.

"Two books... That's hot," Taeyong remarked as he finished the last sips of his whiskey bottle. He couldn't stop looking at Doyoung. "I moved because I wanted to stop living with my boyfriend."

"That's hot." "With his boyfriend." Doyoung's stomach churned, and he blamed the beer.

"And why?" Doyoung responded automatically, almost like when he had to switch to 'Best Friend Who Always Listens' mode. He fiddled with his fingers holding the empty beer can. For some reason, he felt like he couldn't hold Taeyong's gaze.

"Because he broke up with me," Taeyong said as if it were the most obvious thing on the planet, then shrugged, followed by a bitter laugh.

There was silence. Doyoung searched his eyes for a few seconds, and when they met, Taeyong took the last sip from his bottle. "So he's in love."

"But I'm fine," he affirmed with a more slurred voice than usual thanks to the whiskey. He pressed his lips together and nodded. "I'll be fine."

Doyoung smiled at him, pressing his lips together too.

"I think you just have to wait," he said to the blond boy. How many times had he said that to his friends? Their eyes met, and Doyoung smiled at him honestly. "Only time decides whether we're okay or not."

When he said that, he realized he was also telling that to himself. Doyoung also needed to feel like he would be okay. He felt lost, even in this moment of drinking on the stairs that distracted him from his meticulous plans to mend his heart.

Taeyong looked at him with sadness, and Doyoung didn't know how to respond to his eyes. He felt the urge to touch his back and stroke it to give him encouragement, but he ended up just leaving the empty beer can next to him to clasp his hands. He was forbidding himself.

"Doyoung..." Taeyong finally said.

"Uhm?"

Taeyong let out a silent laugh, quickly hiding it by bringing his fingers to his lips. Doyoung knew immediately.

"I need to throw up."

The possibility of Taeyong going to his apartment to vomit felt nil. The blond boy looked much paler than he already was, and Doyoung quickly stood up to climb a couple of steps to the door leading to the apartment hallway.

But Taeyong didn't move.

"Hey, come with me," Doyoung said with a laugh. The blond boy looked lost, disoriented. 

Taeyong climbed slowly, and Doyoung held the door open for him. Without a second thought, he grabbed his keys from his pockets to go to his apartment and open the door for Taeyong.

Who would have thought that a stranger would be the first person to visit his new place?

#i had a good time writing this #i know it's just the beginning but i love these two sm #anyways hope someone's enjoying this! #i'll be updating soon #dotae fanfic #taedo fanfic #dotae fic #taedo fic #doyoung fanfic #taeyong fanfic #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #dotae #taedo

[robert-sims]

Say Goodbye to Unwanted Chewing and Hot Spots with Bodhi Dog New Bitter 2-in-1 Spray

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A Review Of Bodhi Dog

My dog is a rescue (no real background known) and was about to be euthanized when I said I would take her. She is a 95lb pit bull who was used for breeding purposes. Ears and tail not altered. However, she has allergies that affect her in so many ways, and with a special diet, they are all under control. The one thing that I’ve not been able to fix has been the licking of her feet. I’m guessing this began as a self soothing activity in her early days due to stress and possibly the untreated allergies. She has been prescribed so many medications to treat the yeast or fungus infections between her toes that I’ve lost count. Even though the condition would be healed, the licking continued, thus causing wet feet and toes and more infection. That is until now! This spray really really works! I followed the directions and sprayed a bit into her mouth before treating her feet and legs. Wow! What a face! Once all four feet were sprayed I waited to see if the licking would happen again. Miracles or miracles it did not! The yeast infection between her toes is gone, the licking has ceased and I am so happy and relieved. There is a smell often described as kind of a Fritos smell from the infection and it would get very strong. That is also a thing of the past. This product really does work. Even though it obviously has a horrible taste, the smell is very nice. It has a fresh scent, not heavy, but very pleasant. It isn’t oily or greasy and doesn’t leave residue or stains if you get it on your floor. I apply it a couple of times a day and then at bedtime and it doesn’t take much. Just a few pumps on each foot. As for value for money, it’s an 8oz bottle which looks as though it will last quite a while. One bottle of this is less than the medications to take care of preventing yeasty feet each month, not to mention the relief both my dog and myself get from no more discomfort. Dogs lick their feet and paws for many reasons so please get a diagnosis from your vet first as to why they’re doing it.

Say goodbye to destructive chewing behavior and hot spots, and hello to a happier, healthier pet with Bodhi Dog New Bitter 2-in-1 No Chew & Hot Spot Spray. Whether you’re dealing with a teething puppy, a bored dog, or a pet with sensitive skin, this versatile spray is your go-to solution for addressing a range of common issues.

#pet care products

[stardustprompts]

the burning god -  r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   ptsd ,  addiction , death , murder , nsfw  , language 

‘do you think I’d ever let anything happen to you?’

‘you’re terrified. that’s why you’re fidgeting. you’re scared.’

‘soldiers are worth more than civilians, it’s just math.’

‘don’t cut off the head of the snake if you can tame it.’

‘none of this— our villages, our people, our freedom— will survive under their intended world order’

‘i’m the least terrible option you’ve got.’

‘I don’t mean to call you stupid, because I love you, but that plan is so stupid.’

‘i’m not sorry for this. you shouldn’t have gotten in my way.’

‘that wasn’t an insult. just being frank.’

‘they’re bullies. weakness is what they want to see.’

‘bad moral is a big weapon. don’t underestimate it.’

‘i’ve gotten you this far. trust me just a little longer.’

‘i’m not crazy right? this is clearly a trap?’

‘how do you think history will judge me if I throw away it’s fate for one person?’

‘it felt like you’d put the universe back in place. like you were balancing the scales. didn’t it?’

‘you don’t fix hurts by pretending they never happened. you treat them like infected wounds and then, maybe, you have a chance to heal.’

‘it’s not justice, it’s chaos.’

‘this is a revolution. it’s not a fucking tea party.’

‘cut me a fucking break. i’ve been fleeing for my life.’

‘I shouldn’t have counted on his virtue. but he didn’t count on my survival.’

‘they’re never gone. do you understand? they still come for you in your sleep. only this time they’re dream-wraiths, not real, and there’s no escape from them because they’re living in your own mind.’

‘your pain will always be mine.’

‘i’m not living my whole life like a beast on a leash.’

‘I should kill you. why can’t I kill you?’

‘you don’t behave rationally around her, you never do.’

‘’all right’ is not a term anyone would use to describe you.’

‘I used to hate myself for living, too. I didn’t think it was fair that I’d survived. that others had died in my place.’

‘it’s not fair. I should be in the ground with them.’

‘it doesn’t go away. It never will. but when it hurts, lean into it.’

‘this life you’ve chosen, you won’t get many moments like this again. but it’s the nights like this that keep you alive.’

‘give up, darling. trust me, this is easier. this is so much easier.’

‘you know, I think I’ve figured out where you get all that self - righteousness.’

‘their blood is on you. you killed them.’

‘I hate you. I wish we were all dead.’

‘do you think he loved you? do you think he ever loved you?’

‘this story will end. the way it was always meant to.’

‘I just want to sit for a second. in peace. can I do that?’

‘I don’t know, I thought maybe— maybe they’d realize that they need me.’

‘you are so bad at this. it’s cute.’

‘people are attracted to power, darling. they can’t help themselves. power seduces. exert it, make a show of it, and they’ll follow you.’

‘I killed him. and I don’t feel bad about it.’

‘stop pretending to care about ethics, it’s embarrassing.’

‘at some point, you’ll have to convince yourself that you’re above right and wrong. morality doesn’t apply to you.’

‘fear turns into despair, despair to panic, and then panic into utter submission. it’s incredible, the power of psychological warfare.’

‘knowing what I’ve done? yes, it hurts. unlike anything you could ever imagine.’

‘they want to erase us. they want to make us better, to improve us, by turning us into a mirror of themselves.’

‘any culture or state that diverges is necessarily inferior. we are inferior, until we speak, dress, act, and worship just like them.’

‘people pay you less attention when you don’t leave a trail of bodies in your wake.’

‘i’m just telling you what’s right in front of you. you know I’m right.’

‘you seem to have mistaken me for a dullard.’

‘it’s a tragedy we’re on different sides. you know that. we would have been so good united.’

‘he’s tried a million different things to break me. but he should have remembered he never figured out how.’

‘lost my mind for a bit. just starting to get it back now.’

‘you think we should just surrender. that we’d be better off under their rule.’

‘that’s the implication of your logic. and I won’t accept that. I can’t.’

‘i’m sure you said whatever you needed to to get them off your back. I don’t care about that.’

‘everything you do convinces them you should not exist.’

‘I did what I had to do to give him the only chance at peace he’d ever get.’

‘you are the worst thing to happen to this country. these people deserve better than you.’

‘you were only ever fighting to survive. I was fighting to win.’

‘we don’t need peace right now. we need blood.’

‘I don’t know what’s insane anymore. I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘there is no turning back. i’ve waited too long for this.’

‘I can’t take that from him. not even if he’s happier like this.’

‘there’s more, there’s something you’re not telling me, I deserve to know.’

‘let go of the man you remember. you’re never going to get him back.’

‘in times like these, you can’t let sleeping threats lie.’

‘if we ever feared him, it was because he was great, and great rulers always inspire fear in the hearts of the weak.’

‘you don’t get to forget. whatever you did, you don’t deserve to forget.’

‘she’s not a person anymore. she’s rage.’

‘it’s not just about the enemy. it’s about what the world looks like after.’

‘you’re trying to protect your people. I understand that. but I’m trying to protect mine.’

‘i’m not crawling into oblivion with a whimper, and you should have known that before you came here.’

‘I don’t care what else happens up there. but you come back to me.’

‘what’s this? finally developing a conscience?’

‘I know what you did. I know everything. and I don’t care. the past doesn’t matter. ____ is in danger now, and I need you.’

‘nature can’t be altered. only held at bay.’

‘don’t take on the burden of an entire nation. it’s too heavy. and you aren’t strong enough.’

‘you should know by now that when you leave your enemies alive, wars don’t end.’

‘she told me I’ll never be afraid again.’

‘that’s power. and you’re not giving that up. I know you. you’re me.’

‘I know how humiliation feels. keep your secrets if you want. but there’s nothing you can say that will make me think any less of you.’

‘i’m not going to survive this war.’

‘do you want me to say I’m sorry?’

‘what did I tell you? you were never meant to serve.’

‘if you try that shit, I will kill you.’

‘good luck. don’t do anything stupid.’

‘keep down. and when you get the chance, run.’

‘you never want to hurt them. but you have to. you have to put them through hell, because that’s the only way anyone else will survive.’

‘I would have spared them if I could have.’

‘I wasn’t a person to you, I was a weapon, and you needed me to work.’

‘it’ll never stop hurting.’

‘you love them like your own family, and a knife twists in your heart every time you watch one of them die.’

‘see this through to the end. that’s the least you own to the dead.’

‘I wish things had been different.’

‘I so hate when you’re right.’

‘you kill me and you accomplish nothing. your world as you know it will end.’

‘i’m not going to kill you. you don’t deserve that.’

‘why does everyone think this war is over. am I the only one with eyes?’

‘it’s hard to prioritize the enemy that you can’t see.’

‘don’t call me crazy.’

‘you are being crazy. you’re acting like a fucking maniac. shut up for a moment and face the fucking facts.’

‘they can’t do this to me. I was supposed to win.’

‘we built an entire nation. we don’t have to let it collapse.’

‘what he wants is what we all want, which is to stop killing our own people.’

‘we’re about to have the world we fought for. can’t you see it? it’s so close, it’s just over the horizon.’

‘you can come back. I’ll bring you back. we’re in this together.’

‘we’re trying to broker a peace here. let’s not start off with death threats, shall we?’

‘i’m just trying to make this less painful for everyone involved.’

‘you can’t do this for me. I won’t let you.’

‘it’s not for you. it’s not a favor. it’s the cruelest thing I could do.’

#the poppy war series prompts #the burning god prompts #the burning god sentence starters #literature prompts #literature sentence starters #rp memes #rp prompts #rp sentence starters #weeeeeee I did it <3

[naughtyneganjdm]

Parenthood

Summary: Being a parent is hard and exhausting, but being married to Joel makes it so much easier for Y/N after becoming a mother for the first time.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC)

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, etc.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31264607

Notes: Someone requested me to do a short one-shot for Joel and I know I've never written a Joel story directly, so this is my first. Technically I write a version of a character inspired by Joel for The Guest/Arcadia, BUT -- this is what I came up with. In case people didn't know Y/N means your name or you can insert any name you want. Thanks to anyone that reads it! And I also apologize for any potential errors, this was written rather fast and edited when I was really tired.

There it was again, that same incessant buzzing. Truthfully, Y/N should have been used to it by now. It had already been three months. It was the same time, every single night. Yet, when this time of night came, she never found herself ready. Drowsily, her eyes fluttered to an open. The room was still blurry while her tired eyes adjusted to the dark room around her. The only thing that lit up the room was the bright, red light from her alarm clock that she had set up. Three in the morning always came too fast.

Parenthood was the hardest thing she had ever experienced. Not that she didn’t love it. Hell, she loved every second of it, but you’re never prepared for how much work it truly takes when you have a baby. Everyone always warned her that it would kick her ass. Most of the time she thought it was a joke, but now she knew better. Then again, this wasn’t a normal world that she was living in. Maybe if things were ordinary and the world was like it used to be, things would be easier.

The fears of the infected were always lingering at the back of her mind. Not only that, but those that were trying to infiltrate the community was a repeating fear in her mind. There was never a dull moment in Jackson. The anxiety had always been there, but it just enhanced when she became a parent. Because then, you weren’t only thinking about yourself, but you were also thinking about the life of your child.

Finally mustering up enough strength, she turned her head into the pillow and let out a small groan. Sliding her palms out over the cool sheets beneath her, she pushed up with her strength and got herself into a seated position. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed caused a chill to fill her entire body. With the blankets and sheets wrapped around her on this cool fall night it had kept her nice and cozy. Without them, the briskness of the chilly Wyoming air had flooded in through the windows to her bedroom and she shuddered.

Curling her fingers around the edge of the bed, she dug them into the mattress and let out a yawn, “It’s my turn this time baby…”

Hearing nothing in return, she looked over her shoulder to see that her husband was missing from his side of the bed. Stretching out her hand toward his side of the bed, she felt the coolness of the sheets beside her showing that he had been gone for quite some time.

“Joel,” an undeniable grin tugged at the corners of her lips when she thought about her husband. There were no doubts in her mind where he was. It was where he was most nights. Even though they had set the alarm and she was always waking up, this was the same way most nights.

Getting up from the bed, she moved groggily through their dark bedroom making sure not to knock into anything until she managed to turn on the light. It may have been hard waking up at three in the morning for the feedings, but this was easily becoming her favorite time of the day. Quietly opening the bedroom door, she tip-toed through the hallway to try and stay quiet. A light filtered into the dark hallway just right outside the door of the baby’s room.

Coming to a pause, she stayed still in the hallway when she heard the faint sounds of Joel singing quietly and it made her heart full. Joel’s singing was something that had drawn her to him when she had first met him. On the outside Joel seemed like such a shy man. For him to sing, he really had to trust you at first, which of course blew her mind when she found out he wanted to be a singer when he was younger. Even though he was ridiculously charming, handsome and multi-talented, Joel had grown to become someone who was very self-conscious of himself. It was something she had been working on with him for quite some time. After helping him gain some confidence and getting him to open up to people, the walls he had worked so hard to build were slowly breaking down. Now he was giving guitar lessons to the folks in Jackson which was something Joel wouldn’t have done when she had first met him.

Dragging her feet, she stopped at the door to lean against the doorframe. The sight alone caused her heart to flutter inside of her chest. Joel was sitting in the corner of the room in the rocking chair that he had made himself. He was wearing his pajama pants with a burp cloth thrown over his shoulder. In his arms was their son. Joel’s eyes were locked on him with such love and adoration while he sang to him.

Awe flooded through her. It was a picture perfect sight. The two of her boys together reminded her all over again why she fought so hard for the life that she did. Having the two of them in her life made everything worth it.  Every day she found herself swooning over her husband in a new way. Joel made it easy to love him. On the outside he appeared to be rough and tough, but he had the biggest heart of anyone she had ever known.

A few minutes she spent just watching the two of them together until Joel’s eyes finally lifted up from their son to see that she was observing. It drew a smile to tug at the corners of his lips, but he didn’t stop singing. Once she knew that Joel was aware she was there, she moved into the bedroom and stepped beside Joel to look down at their son. The sound of Joel’s voice was calming him to the point of falling asleep again. As Joel finished the song, their son was fast asleep.

“He’s beautiful,” she reached out to place her hand over Joel’s bare shoulder, squeezing firmly at it. Joel leaned his head against her arm cherishing the warmth of her close to him. Seeing their son in his arms was beautiful. It blew her mind that together they were able to make something so pure and perfect.

“That’s because he looks like his mama,” Joel insisted and the compliment was intensified by the drawl of his Texan accent. It made her smile, but her eyes were drawn back to their son. Joel cuddled him in closer to his chest and hummed before speaking up again. “Isn’t that right Brayden?”

“Well, I think he looks like his daddy,” she corrected him, her fingers trailing up the side of Joel’s neck and toward his thick graying hair. Caressing over his scalp caused Joel’s eyes to close tightly and a worn-out sigh escaped his throat. “How long have you been in here babe?”

“A few hours,” Joel answered clearing his throat as he nodded over toward the baby bottle that was on the dresser. “I reckon I may have fed him like a half hour earlier than we were supposed to, but he was getting fussy and I figured I’d give you a break.”

“Well that’s because he knows his daddy is always going to be there to pamper him,” she continued to stroke her fingers through Joel’s hair. It was unbelievable how good of a father Joel turned out to be. Even with being as busy as he was for the people of Jackson, he always made sure to be there for Brayden. Even though parenthood was exhausting, she was thankful that Joel was the person that she got to share it with. Overall, Joel was a phenomenal father and husband. Without him, she was certain that she would have driven herself crazy. “I love you so much, you know that?”

“I love you too,” Joel lifted his head to stare up at her with exhausted, hazel eyes. When his eyes connected with hers, everything in the world seemed to fall into place for her. Joel was everything she could ever want and more. Lowering down, her lips collided with his and she delicately kissed him. The coarse hairs from his short beard tickled at her face and it made her smile against the kiss. When Joel noticed her smiling, he softly chuckled against her lips and hummed. “What?”

“You’re just…so perfect,” she declared, sliding her palm down over the side of his chiseled face. Appreciating his features, she knew that Joel was everything she could ever dream of. When she first met Joel, everyone labeled him as the handsome, grumpy, closed off brother to Tommy. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she would be married and have children with him, but here they were and she was so thankful for it.

“I think you may be a little biased,” Joel winked at her giving her another small peck against her lips before giving his attention back to their sleeping son in his arms.

“You should sleep sometimes you know. You work your ass off. What is Jackson going to do if you collapse from exhaustion?” she inquired, palming in over his muscular shoulders and over the planes of his upper back.

“If something was going to happen to me from sleep exhaustion, it would have already. In the last twenty years, it would have already happened with how much shit I’ve gone through,” Joel denied her claim with a snort. Pulling Brayden up closer to him, he pressed gentle kiss over his son’s forehead and sighed. “I think I’m actually used to not sleeping. In the past, I’d have so many nightmares that I hated sleeping. I got used to it. Now, I’m just afraid of going to sleep.”

“Why?” she frowned, lowering down to her knees beside the rocking chair and Joel looked to her with a saddened expression that made her chest hurt. Sliding her palm in over his thigh in a supportive caress, she tried to get him to open up to her in a calming way. “Joel?”

“Because everything is so…perfect,” Joel simply stated with a small shrug of his shoulders. It took him a minute to gather his thoughts. Biting at his bottom lip, he made it obvious that he was really having a hard time putting words together to make her understand. “My whole life, I’ve never had things go right, ever. I’m afraid that one day I’m going to wake up and this is all going to be a dream or something bad is going to happen to Brayden.”

“Oh honey, you can’t think like that,” she tried to hush him and Joel tilted his head to the side, his eyes tearing over as he thought about everything that had happened in his life.

“You don’t understand. Since I’ve been a teenager things have just been going wrong. You know I had Sarah as a teenager. I was a stupid kid that wasn’t thinking things out. Ya know? At the time, I knew I had to get my shit together and give the best life I could to my baby girl. Then her mother took off on me and ran away. I tried giving her the best possible life I could, but…” Joel found himself getting caught up in his emotions when he thought about his late daughter.

“You did the best with what you had,” she insisted knowing that she had many discussions with Tommy about Joel's past with his daughter. Even Ellie had opened up to her about what she knew when it came to Joel’s daughter that he had lost so long ago. Her eyes fell to the broken watch that he still wore on his wrist and it broke her heart to know that these thoughts were wearing heavy on Joel.

“But I still lost her. No matter how hard I fought for her, it wasn’t good enough,” Joel countered and a single tear slid down the side of his face. Trying to attempt to open up to her why he was feeling this way was hard because even he knew that he was complicated. “Then for the next twenty years it was just nothing, but shit. I would try, but something was always happening. It wasn’t until I got here in Jackson and I met you that it felt like for once something was going right. I wondered if I had died back in Colorado because you…you were too good to be true.”

Damn, that hit her deep. Instead of saying anything, she reached out to slide her hand in over his arm giving him a supportive grasp.

“I was a broken mess and I was pretty much an adoptive father. I figured I would come to the town; give Ellie a life here and then that would be it. I accepted that life. Then the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on suddenly has eyes for me,” Joel chuckled thinking back to when he had first arrived in Jackson. It was a few months before the two of them really had a good conversation, but their chemistry was almost immediate. “I couldn’t believe my lucky stars that someone like you was interested in someone like me.”

“You know, you were the one that asked me out first,” she teased him, poking him playfully in the ribs and he laughed. Almost immediately, he looked to make sure that their playful teasing didn’t wake Brayden up. Adjusting their son in his arms, Joel looked to her again and shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, but you made it very clear that you liked me. I just had no game. So, I didn’t know if I was stupid or not. So when I asked you out I was actually feeling like a total moron on the inside because I figured you might say no and I was wrong the whole time. From the moment you said yes, I knew that you were the one,” Joel stammered, a hint of a smile pressing in over his handsome features when he thought back to her past with him. “They say when you know, you know. Well that’s what it was like with me. The moment I made you laugh and smile, I knew that you were the one that I was meant to be with. It was like a horse’s back kick, it hit me that hard.”

“Leave it to you to come up with that kind of comparison,” she winked watching his nose wrinkling in amusement.

“I just meant I knew you were everything I wanted and more. I didn’t understand why someone like you would wanna be with a fool like me,” Joel recalled his thoughts from the past and his eyes surveyed over the ring he had been able to find when they went scavenging through a nearby city. They were just lucky that they knew someone who could make him a wedding band in the town. Getting married was a surprise. One that Joel never thought he would experience again. With his past, he closed his heart off from ever getting that close to someone again. But then everything changed when he met Y/N. “Then you said yes to marrying me and everything felt right. I had you…I had Ellie…and then this beautiful boy comes into our lives. God, I almost reckon my heart stopped on the spot when you told me that you were pregnant.”

“Tommy told me he thinks you passed out,” she informed him with a tiny laugh knowing that she had told Joel when Tommy was in their home. It kind of just fell out of her lips when she couldn’t get Joel to focus at the time. He was always so busy with everything that it was hard to make him think only about one thing. “He always teases that he had to catch you.”

“Well, I think you just almost knocked me right outta my boots,” Joel snickered, acknowledging that it did shock him. “I just never thought that it would be possible for me to have something like this. Happiness. Every night I sit here and wonder how I got so lucky to have you here in my life. The both of you. Ellie too. I worry that I don’t deserve you or any of you.”

“Joel,” she whispered, lifting up enough to palm in over the side of his face to get him to look at her. Leading him to her, she pressed a tender kiss over his lips taking her time to appreciate the chills it would give her every time she kissed the man of her dreams. “We’re lucky to have you. I can’t think of someone else I would rather share this life with. You…you’ve made me believe in second chances. You’ve made me believe in something more.”

“I just have lost anyone I have ever cared for,” Joel confessed, his eyes tearing over as he spoke and he found it hard to look at her when he admitted that. “Everyone I have ever cared for has gotten hurt or left me. That’s why I’m in here every night. I’m just so afraid…”

“And you have every right to feel the way you do. Life has been so hard, but I can tell you this. Since you walked into my life…you were the only thing that has ever felt right. You brought Ellie into my life and that kid is a pleasure to be around. Then you gave me Brayden and between the three of you I know what happiness truly is,” she explained with a quiet breath knowing that she was getting emotional as well with everything he was telling her. “I think our small little family here is going to do everything we can to take care of each other. We’ll do whatever it takes, just like we always have. I just know that every day I wake up thanking the world that I have you here in it with me.”

“I love you, so much,” Joel blurt out, his hazel eyes exceedingly serious when he nodded. “I just want to be the best father and husband that I can be. I want to give you the closest thing to a real life that I can. I want all of you happy.”

“We are happy. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but the only time that little man is happy is when he is in your arms. He knows who is daddy is and he loves you…so much,” she promised, getting up from where she was kneeling so she could lean over to press a kiss against his temple. “If you’re worried, after tonight we should move his crib into our room until he’s old enough to be alone. That way you can feel safer knowing he is with us.”

“You’d be okay with that?” Joel asked for confirmation and she nodded slowly. Of course she was okay with that. Nothing about that would bother her. Carefully, Joel pulled himself up from the rocking chair and moved over to put Brayden back in his crib. Standing at the edge of the crib, his large fingers wrapped around the sides of it while he watched his son sleep. “I worry about things because when I was a father last time, I was young. Now I’m fucking old.”

“Joel,” she laughed, moving in behind him to wrap her arms around his muscular body. Taking advantage, she managed to press a kiss over his shoulder since he was slouched down enough for her to do so.

“I’m serious,” Joel chuckled while her right hand caressed over his the center of his bare torso, teasing her fingers through the dark hairs that covered his body.  When she traced over the puckered flesh where his scar was, it made him look down at her fingers. After keeping Ellie safe and being able to have this family, all the scars on his body almost felt worth it. All that pain he went through was worth it to have the family that he now had. “I’m an old fart.”

“You are the only person I know that has the amount of energy that you do. I’m pretty sure you could outrun a lot of the kids in town here Joel. I don’t know how you do everything that you do, but your age is not a factor that I’m worried about,” she assured him, sliding in beside him and he loosely wrapped his arm around her shoulders while they stared down at their son. “Plus, I already know you’re an amazing father. That’s one thing I will never doubt.”

“I hope so,” Joel sighed pulling her in closer to him while they watched their son sleep. “I can make him another crib. I’ll go down to the basement so we’ll have two. I was carving him one of my horses, but I suppose I can stop to give us something more useful.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she knew that Joel’s workshop got moved to the basement as soon as they had their son together. This room was full of wooden sculptures before and half made acoustic guitars, but now it was their son’s bedroom. Still, some of Joel’s sculptures he had done helped lighten the room for their little boy. “Are you ready to get some sleep?”

“Just a little bit longer,” Joel sighed wanting to be with his son for a few more moments before they would go back to bed. Wrapping both of his arms around her, Joel squeezed her tight to him and kept her in his arms firmly. “You are the first person who has made feel like I’m not alone in a very long time Y/N. I hope you know that. You gave me the greatest gift of all time and that was a second chance at life. I love you and I always will.”

#Joel Miller #The Last of Us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #TLOU

[faulty-writes]

Me: sees thine holy writing: (°▽°)

Sees that you write lots for tenya: (^○^)

Me remembering that I’m a tenya simp: (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*)

Haha, something to cheer you day up ^-^

But can you write the most fluffiest fanfic for iida? Much thank

A fluffy fic you say? Well, this is what I present to you! Mainly inspired by this gif, interesting what gives you inspiration. But I hope you enjoy this, I tried to make it fluffy.

[ Tenya was normally attentive to those that needed it, however when you get a cut on your finger and Tenya insists he patch it up for you. Things get a little strange when you request a few more things from him. ]

A cough escapes as the dirt continues to float around you, your hero suit was covered in debris and a soft ache coursed through your shoulder. More than likely because you landed on it when you tried to outmaneuver the turbo hero, Ingenium.

But, most of the time you knew him as Tenya Iida. Class A had come to a mutual agreement to take part in extra training and had been granted permission to use Ground Omega by your teacher Shota Aizawa, but it seemed the training backfired.

“Y/n!” Tenya’s urgent voice came as you cradled your hand to your chest, but you held your index finger out. A bloody cut, about an inch or so, ran down the tip of your finger. Small droplets of red soaked into the ground below you and moments later, you felt a gust of wind.

It carried your hair and another cloud of dirt which made you turn your head and cough yet again. “Ah,” Tenya looked at you from behind the eyepiece of his helmet before he removed it completely, deciding to allow it to hang from the side of his hip instead.

His glasses were slightly tilted on the bridge of his nose, but that didn’t stop him from scanning you from head to toe. His arms were held up and bent slightly, fingers separated in a panic. Then a moment later, he dropped to his knees and began chopping his hand through the air.

“Y/n! Are you alright? My sincerest apologies!” his voice was slightly frantic as he begins to bow repeatedly and you couldn’t do much but look at him with slight amusement. Tenya always took things too seriously and it was humorous, but most of the time unnecessary.

It wasn’t right to expect one person to carry the consequence of other's actions or even their own, to some extent. But Tenya seemed to feel guilt over the smallest of things, including what had gone wrong during the training exercise and, “Y/n! Your finger!” Uraraka’s voice suddenly cut through the air.

“Huh?” you blinked and turned to look at her, Izuku was by her side and Eijirou next to him. “Hey, uh...do you need to see Recovery Girl?” the redhead questioned before letting out a wince as Katsuki smacked him in the back of the head.

“Shut the hell up!” the furious blond exclaimed before stomping his foot and placing his gloved hands on his hips. He turned to you, eyes narrowing on your finger. “Pff,” he then turned to walk away, “the extra is fine! Now come on! We’re here to train, damn it!” he growled through clenched teeth before using his quirk to blast off the ground.

“Hey wait!” Eijirou called after him, raising one of his hands in the air as if he could touch Katsuki before he stopped short. “Uh,” he looked between you, Tenya, Izuku, and Uraraka. “Sorry! I’ll catch you all later!” he said before he resumed running out of sight.

Uraraka frowned and turned to Izuku who stepped forward as Tenya focused his attention back on you. A gasp came when he noticed the state of your finger, “Y/n, may I…” he hesitated as he motioned to your hand. “Oh,” you looked at your cut before nodding and holding it out for him.

He grasped your wrist gently and was careful to avoid touching the cut as he held your finger between two of his own. “Hm, I see,” he released your hand and reached up to push his glasses back into place before standing on his feet.

“Midoriya, Ochako,” he said, effectively catching their attention. “I’m going to take Y/n back to the dormitory building, their cut doesn’t look too serious. However, I’d rather take precautionary measures to ensure it does not become infected or is otherwise untreated,” he placed his hands on his hips.

“Is that acceptable to the two of you?” he questioned and Izuku nodded. “Of course, it is! You’re such a good friend Iida, take care of them well!” Uraraka said with a smile. “Yeah, and it’s alright i-if...you don’t make it back to training. It’s only...practice after all,” Izuku confirmed before he looked at you.

“If you um, ever want to practice training again. I’m sure we can organize something,” he said and you smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied before watching the two of them walk away. “Iida, you don’t have to take care of my cut,” you knew that was rude to say considering Tenya seemed stern in his new objective to do exactly that.

You didn't bother looking at him, or his reaction to your words. Rather your attention was on the red liquid that still poured from the cut. “Forgive me, but I disagree.” he crossed his arms over his chest, a present frown now on his lips.

“It is my fault that you got injured, though be it a small cut. I take full responsibility and I will make this fault up to you,” he spoke proudly and his voice slightly deepened which caused a shiver to run down your spine. You glanced away hoping to hide your flushed expression.

There was always something about Tenya when he spoke in a certain tone, maybe you found it attractive. But you’d never tell him that. “Please allow me to carry you,” your head shot back in his direction. “W-What?” you questioned, clearly dumbfounded especially when you saw him smile.

Once more, he brought his hand up. Pressing his fingers against the metal plate of his suit. “Forgive me, perhaps that question is rather shocking and inappropriate without proper permission, allow me to make my intentions clear,” he said before bringing his hands to his sides.

“Will you please allow me permission to carry you to the Class A dormitory building?” he asked, his voice deepening once more and you felt your mouth get slightly dry. “Uh…” you swallowed hard, “I guess...you can,” you replied sheepishly and that’s all the confirmation Tenya needed.

Before you could register what was happening, you felt one arm brace the back of your knees and another pressing firmly across your shoulder blades. A squeak escaped when you realized you were being lifted and your arms snaked around Tenya’s neck, taking a firm grip.

“Apologies, I do not mean to frighten you. But please know, I would never drop nor purposely hurt you. You are safe within my arms,” he stated as he looked at you. “Hm!?” your reaction wasn’t exactly voluntary and neither was the pink-tinted color coming to your cheeks which Tenya noticed.

“Are you alright? Do you feel ill!?” he questioned in a frantic manner, leaning dangerously close to you. “I...I-I’m fine!” you managed to squeak out which caused Tenya to narrow his eyes. “Are you certa-” you interrupted him by nodding your head, but you knew he didn’t believe you.

Still, you were relieved when he finally leaned away. Giving you a chance to breathe, the dull ache from your finger somewhat brings you back to reality along with the rumbling sound of Tenya’s engines. “Please hold on tight, I will not drop you as your safety is my number one concern as of this moment,” he reassured you, completely oblivious to the fact he was making your heart race.

But that changed the moment he kicked off the ground and your world blurred. The wind felt as though it were piercing right through you and your hair whipped around violently. It was a little pathetic, but you found yourself curling into Tenya.

Partly trying to block the wind from affecting you while your stomach continued to twist slightly, unused to the high speeds Tenya could reach. While it felt like moments had passed by, in a matter of seconds you were closing in on the dormitory building.

The wind got less intense as Tenya slowed down and you lifted your head to look at him, listening to those soft pants that left his mouth. “Tenya…?” you questioned, and watched as he turned his attention on you.

“Hm, yes?” he responded, those soft pants of his continuing to fill the air. “Oh...um nothing,” you said before deciding to focus on the front porch of the dormitory instead. But, you should have known better. ‘Nothing’ wasn’t an answer that could or would satisfy Tenya.

“Are you most certain? You do not have to be afraid to ask a question even if the subject of which concerns me, you, or something unrelated," he began, once more dropping down to that serious tone of his.

"I am more than happy to provide an answer as your classmate, class president, and dear friend,” you felt your heart sink as he began to slowly walk up the stairs, and with each step, you could feel the pressure of his fingertips digging into the skin of your shoulder.

“I know…” you replied as you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling how warm the metal had gotten due to his run. It made you wonder if Tenya was sweating on the inside of his hero suit or if he had some type of cooling system similar to the ones in his boots that prevented his engines from overheating.

“Just...thank you,” the words came out in a shy whisper just before you glanced away. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me, it’s only a little cut,” you reminded him, but Tenya shook his head.

“I am afraid you got harmed as a direct result of my poorly timed actions, perhaps I was not fully comprehending or registering them during our training. But such behavior is unbefitting of a hero, especially toward someone they care deeply for," he said as he turned back to look at you, eyebrows slanted in another serious expression.

You parted your lips slightly, letting out a soft almost inaudible noise as he continued to speak. "In addition, as I stated earlier. I will do what I must to right this fault I have committed,” those subtle noises now turned into a defeated sigh.

Tenya was admirable in some sense of the word but once more you found yourself wishing he wasn't so serious. Your thoughts were broken as he walked through the door and the eerie silence of the dorm came to attention. It was strange to see the place empty.

“I am going to take you to the restroom, does that sound acceptable?” he questioned and you jumped in his arms. “Uh…” a moment of hesitation came before you shook your head. “Oh, I mean! Uh, t-that’s fine!” you replied and yet again got a strange look from Tenya.

“Are you most certain you are well?” you latched onto your bottom lip, cursing yourself for your rather stupid response. But, you nodded. “Y-Yeah! Fine...just not used to being carried,” your explanation was accompanied by an awkward laugh that almost made you want to smack yourself in the face.

Especially as Tenya raised his eyebrow yet again which caused you to latch onto your bottom lip, silencing your laugh. “S-Sorry,” you replied before focusing your attention down the hall where Tenya took another turn before he came to a stop in front of the restroom door.

Despite the fact the dormitory was empty, Tenya carefully balanced you in his arms before he extended one hand out and knocked. Once he was sure the restroom was actually and truly empty, he slid the door open and stepped inside.

“Here we are,” he said as he slowly placed you onto the toilet. Ensuring the lid was down first as he didn’t want another uncomfortable or awkward situation to occur, much less put you in harm's way again.

“Forgive me, but may I excuse myself for a short moment? I wish to change into something more appropriate. I shall only be gone for five minutes,” he explained, yet again bowing as he rambled off. Your hands reached down, clenching to the outside of the toilet seat. You were mindful of your cut finger.

“Uh, sure Iida. N-No problem!” you said, knowing your cheeks were still warm and continuing to rise in heat. You tried taking a deep breath but ended up coughing a few times and tried to play it off by glancing around the bathroom.

Maybe if you distract your thoughts away from Tenya, you'd remain calm. But Tenya seemed rather confused by the fact you coughed and reached up to cup his chin, tapping it a few times as he observed you. He wanted to ask if you were alright, but perhaps you were still getting over the shock of what happened.

"Thank you, please remain here." he bowed politely before exiting the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few minutes. You fidgeted some and ran your hands up and down your thighs. Trying to get rid of the butterflies in your stomach before you glanced at your finger. It didn't look too bad, apart from the dried blood.

You may have gotten too lost in your thoughts considering you jumped when three loud knocks sounded, your hand immediately reached up to fist into the front of your hero suit. “Y/n,” came Tenya’s voice, “may I come in?” he questioned and you dropped your hand. But your heart was still racing from the small scare.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied and watched as the door slid open and Tenya walked in. You swallowed as you glanced over him from head to toe. He was now wearing a plain white top with an unbuttoned long-sleeved blue plaid shirt over it.

This was accompanied by loose jeans that were neatly folded up at his ankles. “Is something wrong?” he questioned, more than likely realizing that you were staring at him. “Ah! Oh no, no!” you said, waving your arms in front of you like mad.

“I just...um…” you paused and looked down, trying to figure out what you could possibly say. You reached up, rubbing the back of your head. “You l-look very nice!” you managed to stutter out which, in turn, surprised Tenya.

He took a half step back and his cheeks grew a faint red color. “Oh, I see. Thank you very much,” he stated, hands coming down press against the sides of his thighs and his shoulders squared. He gave another bow before he approached you, carefully kneeling down but not allowing himself to touch the floor.

Then he held his hand out, “May I see your injured finger?” he questioned and you stared at that awaiting hand before slowly reaching out for it. His touch was gentle but that firm urgency was still there as he looked over the cut and the small amount of dried blood that had stained your hand.

“Please wait a moment,” he said as he gently placed your hand back down, resting it against your thigh. You watched as he rose to his feet and walked to the nearby closet where he grabbed three hand towels. “I believe we need to properly clean your hand first,” he said just before turning on the faucet.

The sound of water hitting the porcelain surface echoed through the room and caused you to shift on the toilet seat. You watched as Tenya began to wash his hands before using one of the three towels to dry them off. He then tossed it into the nearby laundry basket, you watched as he wet another hand towel and turned to you.

Once more he kneeled in front of you and presented his hand which you took. “Please accept my apologies once again, and forgive my assumptions. But I believe you are uncomfortable in your current state," he said, referring to the fact you were still covered in dirt and there were some rips that now needed to be repaired on your hero suit.

He began to clean your hand, dripping a fair amount of water everywhere as he started with your knuckles and palm. You could see the dark smears of dirt against the white-colored towel and tensed up when Tenya took your finger.

Making sure he was using a clean part of the towel as he wiped the cut and dried blood away. He only paused for a moment to glance at you. “Forgive me, is it tender?” he questioned before his attention turned back to your finger.

The cut itself looked deep and irritated, the skin around the opening bright red and slightly inflamed. “Only when you touch it,” you responded. “I will be more gentle,” he promised before once again getting up.

He tossed the dirty towel into the laundry basket before washing his hands yet again and grabbed the last towel which he used to dry your hand off as opposed to his own. “I’m going to clean it properly now,” he stated before disposing of the last towel and turned back to the closet.

You could hear the slight rummaging sound, and soft clinks as Tenya pulled out the items one by one. A bag of cotton balls, a box of bandaids, disinfectant, and a single packet of antibacterial gel were now laid across the bathroom counter.

You blinked, “Iida, do you...really need all that to clean my cut?” you questioned and Tenya raised his eyebrow as he glanced over each item. He then brought his hand up to his chin, cupping it as he thought.

“Do you believe I missed something perhaps?” he questioned and you couldn’t help but chuckle which caught Tenya’s attention. “Pardon? Did I say something amusing?” you leaned back. “Oh,” that’s right, Tenya didn’t favor when others laughed at him or at least when he believed they were laughing at him.

“No, I...just wanted to say thank you, Iida,” it was best not to provoke him. Despite knowing that it would take more than a laugh or insult to break his serious and otherwise calm personality. Still, you didn't feel like starting an argument or confrontation with him.

“You’re quite welcome, however, I do not believe you should be giving me any form of thanks,” he said as he pulled out a cotton ball and proceeded to wet it with the disinfectant. “This may cause an uncomfortable stinging sensation," he said as he turned to you, the cotton ball held securely between his thumb and index finger.

"Please let me know if it becomes too much. I would not want to cause any further harm to you,” he said as he once again took your hand and began to gently dab the wounded area with the cotton ball. You watched as it fizzled and popped before a white foam began to fill the cut.

You clenched your jaw, it stung somewhat. But it wasn’t anything that could make you cry out. “It...doesn’t hurt that bad,” you responded and Tenya glanced at you, allowing a moment to pass before he nodded.

Then he turned his attention back to your finger, applying pressure to the cotton ball before dragging it along the length of the cut. “It only seems minorly irritated,” he noted before he got up once more and threw the dirty cotton ball into the trash.

He then carefully grabbed the small packet of antibacterial gel and poured a small amount onto a new cotton ball. “Please keep still,” you held your breath as he rubbed the gel around your cut, it was almost attractive watching Tenya like this.

But, he always had a tendency to be very caring. At least with those he considered to be close with. You wondered for a moment if that’s the only thing he saw you as or if there was any chance you could somehow make him see you in a different light.

Once he threw the last cotton ball away, he grabbed a bandaid and carefully unwrapped it. “Hold your finger out please,” he instructed and of course, you followed through. Extending your index finger out enough for him to carefully wrap the bandage around it.

“I believe that’s on correctly, does it feel too restrictive?” he questioned and you spread your fingers as you looked at the bandaid. You flexed your finger, making sure you could move it properly before you nodded.

“It’s fine Tenya…” you then looked over at the box of bandaids, “but…” you paused. “But?” Tenya questioned, pushing you to complete your sentence. “Are you unsatisfied?” he questioned as he stepped closer to you, invading your space.

You latched onto your lip, trying not to make a noise as Tenya leaned over. “Uh…” your breath hitched as his hand came to rest on your shoulder and he appeared to be looking you over. “Do you have any other injuries on your person I am not aware of?” he questioned.

“Pardon my touch,” he said before you felt his hand thread into your hair. You swallowed before leaning away, somewhat in a panic which was evident enough by the way you held your hands up. “N-No!” you suddenly exclaimed and Tenya immediately stepped back, creating a fair amount of distance between himself and you.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, I did not mean to invade your personal space, and I-” you shook your head, stumbling to your feet. “I-Iida!” you stuttered out, “I was...I was just going to say that…” you blinked and lowered your hands to your sides.

Your gaze was to the floor and you knew he would notice how red your cheeks were. “Hm?” he reached up to grab the left side of his glasses, moving them slightly as if trying to correct his vision. “Then nothing is wrong?” you almost felt bad for confusing him and closed your eyes.

Another deep breath came before you spoke again, “I...just wanted another one,” you sheepishly said and lifted your head as you opened your eyes, catching Tenya’s confused expression. “I...I’m afraid I do not understand, you required one bandage for your cut,” he said as he raised his arm.

“Are you most certain you do not have another injury? I will not be angered if you state that you, in fact, do and require more medical attention!” you stepped back and watched him chop that hand through the air. It was such a repetitive movement.

But Tenya did it with ease, you wondered if his arm ever got sore. “Well, I…” you turned your head, once again looking away from the boy in front of you. “I would...feel better if I had another one,” you explained and Tenya blinked, his movements coming to a halt.

“I….are you certain it would make you feel better?” he questioned before you shyly glanced back at him, but remained silent as you nodded. Tenya’s eyebrows came down and you could hear a soft humming coming from the inside of his throat.

“Heh,” you gave a sheepish smile, maybe he was thinking too hard again? You slowly raised your hand, extending your bandaged finger out to him. “Hm?” such an action seemed to have caught his attention, but he was unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“Are...may I ask why you feel the need to present your finger?” he asked and you knew that there was a possibility of rejection or for Tenya to laugh at you for what you were about to ask next. “Well, a-actually can you…” the words you wanted to speak seemed stuck and Tenya stepped closer, reaching out to gently take your hand.

“Please, do not be afraid to ask me anything," he seemed to be repeating himself again. "I assure you, I would not find something you wish to say or ask to be humorous in any matter,” once more that deep tone was associated with his voice and it caused you to shiver.

You felt your mouth go dry, though you knew you could trust Tenya to keep his word. “O-Okay,” you said, though you knew your shaky voice held some uncertainty to it. “Would you...or c-can you...kiss it?” you questioned and almost immediately you felt him release your hand.

More than likely surprised by your bold question. “I...f-forgive me, I believe I must have misheard you. Please repeat your question,” you took note of Tenya’s wide eyes, clenched jaw, and overall unwillingness to go through with what you asked.

But you knew you’d never get anywhere if you didn’t push through the limitations in front of you. “I asked…” you began as you took a step forward, now standing only inches away from Tenya. You raised your hand to present your finger once more.

“Could you kiss my finger?” Tenya’s stiff posture seemed to soften, but you noticed how flushed he was. “I...I do not understand, I have taken the proper steps to clean it and you assured me you weren’t in any pain an-” you frowned before deciding to shove your hand in his face.

“Please Iida,” you might as well try begging. “I know you cleaned it and everything, but a kiss would make it feel better too,” you insisted and took note of the soft revving sound, more than likely coming from Tenya’s engines. Was he nervous? It certainly seemed that way, especially with how he stuttered out his response.

“I uh...I am afraid that’s too i-inappropriate and I do not b-believe even if this was a-appropriate in the context that would allow such an affectionate or o-otherwise romantic f-form of action t-that I would know h-how to-” you pressed your bandaged finger against his lips and tried to resist chuckling as you watched him tremble in response.

It was a surprise that his glasses weren’t fogging up with how deep red his cheeks were beginning to get. “It’s not inappropriate Iida,” you tried to reassure him. “It’s something that brings a lot of people comfort. It’s more of the thought behind the action. So please?” you questioned yet again as you removed your finger from his lips and held it out in hopes he’d follow through with doing what you wanted.

But you took note of how his eyebrows were slanted, and the way he looked at your finger as if it was something new and foreign to him. Actually, had Tenya ever done something like this before? Had he kissed anyone or anything?

You knew it wasn’t your place to ask, but you got a little concerned when you glanced down and watched as Tenya’s hands folded into loose fights which shook slightly. Then he brought those hands up, his palms facing out. His head was turned and his eyes slipped closed, he looked tense.

“If you continue to insist that you will feel better if I were to ‘kiss’ your finger. Then perhaps I have no choice,” he said, and you could tell he was a little annoyed as he lowered his hands and turned his head to face you once more.

But a sense of relief came when Tenya opened his eyes and reached up to gently take your hand. Then, he leaned forward. “I will try to be gentle, I can imagine your finger is still sore. Yes?” he questioned, but you were too busy watching as he guided your finger up to his mouth.

Then came the soft warmth of his lips which caused a tingle to course from the tip of your finger to the top of your head and down to the end of your toes. The faint echo of your pounding heart sounded in your ears and much like Tenya, you felt your cheeks heat up.

They were a dark shade of pink by the time Tenya pulled away. “I...trust your finger feels better now, yes?” he questioned and you swallowed, taking note of how his glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“Uh...y-yeah...but,” you glanced back to the sink counter, “c-can I have another?” Tenya blinked. “A-Another? But I just followed through with kissing your finger as you requested and-” you shook your head. “No I mean...can I have another bandaid now?” you questioned as you pointed to the box that remained sitting on the counter.

Tenya frowned and gently released your hand before crossing his arms, “I believe one is quite enough for you,” he stated and you knew by his tone that you shouldn’t try to argue. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t. “Please?” you folded your hands together to resemble a begging position.

“Just one more!” he let out a soft growl. “I do not wish to waste the bandaids as our classmates might be in need of them as well,” he said before he reached over to take the box. “Come on Iida,” you decided to press as he turned to put the box of bandages back into the closet.

But, you reached out to grab his shoulder and a loud sigh came. The angry look he gave somewhat scared you, it was a rare sight to see Tenya scowl. “If you continue to insist yet again that this item is something that you need to feel better,” he began, “I will allow it for this one instance,” he said as he placed the bandages back onto the counter.

“But this is the last bandage, do you understand?” he said as he pulled one out, holding it between his fingers as he gave you a soft glare. “Uh…” you felt your stomach twist before you nodded. “Yeah, I understand,” you replied before Tenya began to peel back the paper that surrounded the bandage.

“Where would you like me to place this one?” he questioned, “Oh!” you hadn’t thought of that and quickly looked at your hand. “How about…” you held your hand in front of him, wiggling your ring finger. “Very well…” Tenya said as he stepped forward and yet again, wrapped a bandage around your finger.

You couldn’t help but smile as he turned to throw the excess paper away. “Thank you, Iida,” you said before looking at the box and quickly snatched another bandage out of it. You peeled off the outer wrapping and carelessly allowed it to fall to the floor.

“Hm?” Tenya glanced over his shoulder at you, almost suspiciously and you hid the bandage behind your back in hopes it would deter that suspicious glance of his. It seemed to fool him for the moment and he once more walked over to you.

It was almost embarrassing how tall Tenya was in comparison to yourself, but he was one of the tallest in your class. But at the same time, it was heartwarming. You know many outsiders could be intimidated by Tenya, but once you got to know him.

You’d find that he had a soft and caring side to him which was often perfectly balanced with his more serious and heroic side. Everything he did seemed to be with purpose and in a way that was admirable. “Allow me to walk you to your room,” he offered his arm for you to take and you glanced at.

“Actually Iida...um...I have something to tell you,” your fingers grazed across the bandage you held behind your back. “Hm?” he raised his eyebrow, “Of course, I assure you I am the most attentive listener,” you smiled, that’s kind of what you hoped for. You raised your free hand, using your finger to motion him to lean over.

He seemed confused at first but leaned down to your height as you wanted. You then brought your other hand forward, quickly peeling back the strips that covered the bottom side of the bandage. “Y/n!” Tenya exclaimed as if you committed some unforgivable sin, then came his hand.

Once more chopping through the air with urgency. “I believe I stated that I did not wish to waste any more bandages that are otherwise unnecessary!” you expected as much from Tenya and there was one thing you could do to stop him.

“Mm!” he suddenly flinched back when he realized the bandage you were previously holding was now placed over his lips. “Mmmm!” he mumbled, bringing his hands up to remove it but you quickly grabbed them which caused his eyes to widen.

You then offered a kind smile, though a few chuckles accompanied it before you leaned close. Pressing your lips against his mouth. Though that bandage did separate you from actually kissing his lips. But Tenya looked surprised, downright thrown off by your actions.

You knew there were countless thoughts running through his head, especially as you stepped away and proceeded to bow politely. “Thank you for saving me, Iida.” you grinned as you walked past him, taking some amusement in his flushed and furiously confused expression.

#tenya x reader #iida x reader #bnha x reader

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks fluff

[icyteaa]

AlbeCale Headcanon

[Vampire x Angel]

Inspired by this post

Their first encounter was when Alberu needed to run a mission where there were a lot of people dead. It's such an ordinary day since the medieval century has never been nice to humans who live there. Kill or killed, the existence of demon and vampire in the shadow, everything was the same as Alberu just sighed when he set off his destination to the mansion where everything happened.

But then he found there was someone who was standing tall while looking towards the corpses. There was someone who survived such a tragedy that runs in the mansion that got attacked by vampires. No, survive was such an imprecise word to describe the hollow and void expression the young man has as he froze in his place.

Let alone there was a wound in his neck that implied he had been infected by vampires and become one of them forcefully. It was an unfortunate event when Alberu thought about it, but it didn't make him pity enough to even bother talking to him. So Alberu just did his task to guide all the souls that had left their bodies to the underworld where everything would be decided, before he left the place. Left the red head alone with his own agony.

But Alberu was curious. Since Cale, the name of survivor of the tragedy (he learned about it when he looked towards their files when he arrived at home to make a report) was forcefully become one of vampires, what would he do after this? Since he had become the race who killed all his family members, what is he gonna do from now on? Will he try to get revenge or will he just lay low because he knows he is weak? That question ran in Alberu until he finally decided to come to the mansion again one more time.

Alberu didn't expect to find all the corpses were gone and grave with tombstones made a line in front of the mansion. It was not appropriate enough to call it a grave, but still better than nothing nevertheless.

Then he found the young man—again—standing in front of the graves with an empty expression. Alberu had seen thousands of times how humans would react when the ones they love died. Cry, grief, sadness, all of it is always expressed on their faces. But the man was just standing still. His suit and hands were full of dirt and blood. It looked like the young man buried several corpses by himself.

Something more unexpected, the young man looked towards him when Alberu was in the state where no one could see him except his own kind. Cale was expressionless when he clearly said, "You are here again."

It caught Alberu off guard at first, but he then let himself be seen while giving the man a wide smile. He didn't know why, but his mouth just came out with sentences that are really different from the reason why he came back here before, "Will you stay here or do you want to come to my place?"

It was not something so drastically different for Alberu to have a housemate though since he lives in a big place. He let Cale sleep in the room on the first floor since he barely used it and all his stuff was on the second floor. Although it's surprising too that Cale just agreed with his sudden ask to come to his place, Alberu thought it was because Cale needed a place where he could forget what had happened. Far away from the place that has now become a graveyard for his family.

Cale rarely goes out of his room. Alberu thought he had a different way to express his griefness. Sometimes Alberu will check him out just in case something happens and most of the time he finds Cale sleeping for a long period of time. It was intriguing to observe since usually humans who just become vampires would go wild while craving for blood. But in his case, Alberu never saw Cale going wild and drinking blood since he got infected. Without Alberu even realizing, he will seek Cale's presence from time to time so he can observe him.

One day, Cale looked so weak and sick. It's known that vampires have pale skin, but that time it looks worse. His breath was heavy and he sweated so much. Alberu found this just because he came to observe Cale again in his room. Cale never complained or said he was hurt.

Alberu thought maybe that was happened because Cale suppressed his instinct to drink blood even if vampires needed that to life, especially him, who was not a vampire from the beginning. They barely had a conversation with each other, but Alberu found himself worried about Cale's situation.

It's impossible to bring someone so Cale could drink their blood since Alberu couldn't harm just any creatures as an Angel, and he knew Cale himself wouldn't want to hurt somebody only to his own accord. Alberu then remembered the human he just sent to the underworld after getting attacked by a beast in the forest. He brought some of the blood from the human to Cale. Bloid from the death body isn't the best blood for vampires, but still better than nothing.

"Drink this." Cale barely opened his eyes to see a glass of blood shoved to his face, but he quickly shook his head. Alberu sighed and helped Cale to sit in his bed properly, "I get this from a human who just died. No one gets hurt, so just drink this if you still want to live."

Cale drinks the blood and gets better after a few hours. Since then Alberu will bring a portion of human blood that just died to give it to Cale. Not often, just so Cale doesn't fall sick like before. But there is nothing like compromise or a deal. Sometimes Alberu finds himself weird if it comes to something related to Cale.

Cale too found this weird and one day asked him why Alberu did this for him when they sat opposite to each other in Cale's room. (After the event, Alberu finds Cale always spacing out while sitting on the couch when he isn't sleeping. Alberu took the initiative to talk to him first, and now it's like their activity to have a few conversations going on once in a while after Alberu takes care of his duty as an angel).

Alberu couldn't answer Cale immediately since he didn't know the answer either. He laments why he brought someone to his house even if it's nothing like pity or sympathy. He knew a lot worse tragedy than the one Cale experienced, but he had never done this thing he did to Cale until now. He just did it. Alberu couldn't find any better answers. So that is his answer.

Alberu awkwardly scratches his cheek after Cale giving him long stare, he decided to approaching Cale and gives him a light pat in the head a few times before said, "Well, it just happened, so don't need to think about it too hard. Just remember what I did for you and pay me back later." Cale stared at him with a clueless expression and made him sigh. "For now, just stay healthy and live long, so we can have more conversation, alright?"

Maybe that's it. As a creature whose what he is doing and the purpose in his life has already been decided before he even lives, he just wants to feel and do what others do. Especially humans that he always observe. Talking with others, having conversations that aren't related to his duty, and maybe… a friend.

Alberu is getting goosebumps because of his own thoughts. It was the cringiest line he ever thought in his life up until now. He never imagined that the day he could think such sentimental words would come after thousands of years of his life.

But strangely enough, the feeling he felt after realizing he might have someone he could call a friend was more pleasant than he ever thought it would be.

Next chapter

Note: I just want to warm up and make a light headcanon.... But there are more moments I want to write from this au lol. Maybe I will write part 2 of this.

#trash of the count's family #tcf #lout of count’s family #cale henituse #alberu crossman #albecale #caleberu #tcf headcanon #vampire au

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Osborn’s 5✩ Inspiration: Interdigital Heartbeat [指间心音] Date Translation (Prologue)

"Hu? Looks like he's really waving at you. What now? Should I give you two some space?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Osborn’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 5✩ Inspiration has 6 Endings!! *Osborn’s tag will be #For Night, For Freedom

The Bar Street lit up with its disarrayed ensemble of neon lights as night fell, the night scene revving to life.

Dragging Osborn with me, we made a mad dash down the street before coming to a stop at the entrance of a bar that had Seed’s poster plastered on it. I whipped out both of our tickets.

MC: Huff… Huff… Still 5 minutes late…

MC: I planned on coming here early to get a spot in the front row… I can’t believe this.

A couple of days ago, Gao Cheng and I had agreed to go watch Seed’s live performance together.

Although the band wasn’t well known, they’d been active for a long time now, performing in bars all over Guangqi City. Gao Cheng and I both loved the style of their music.

However, Gao Cheng had suddenly called in a few hours before the live performance was slated to start, citing that his pet had suddenly fallen ill and that he wouldn’t be able to come.

Thinking that it wouldn’t be all that fun going to a live performance alone, I suddenly remembered Osborn, who was an avid fan of music himself…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The small underground bar had cleared the area of all its tables and chairs, with many people packed into its cramped space.

After gaining entry, I pulled Osborn along and made my way to the front. Taking advantage of the break between the ending of the first song and the start of the next, I briefly did a simple introduction of all the band members.

MC: The last guy… He’s my favourite! He’s their keyboard player and also their leader, Liyuu!

MC: He’s especially talented! All the arrangements and lyrics that the band uses are all written by him!

Osborn raised an eyebrow as he looked at Liyuu, who was wearing a Camo T-Shirt, nodding at the fans with a smile on the stage, and back at me again. He nodded indifferently.

Osborn: Oh? That's your idol?

MC: Hmm… Not really? I just admire and look up to him!

MC: I’m the same as all these fans here. We’re all enamoured by his talents.

As soon as the words left my mouth, the two girls next to me screamed out loud with their hands cupped around their mouths, acting as make-shift trumpet amplifiers.

Fan A: AHH!! YOU ARE SO HOT, MY HUSBAND!!

Fan B: Liyuu BBY, I WANT YOUR BABIES!!

MC: Uh...

The slap to the face came way too suddenly, freezing the smile that had been on my face almost instantaneously. A look of understanding was displayed on Osborn’s face as he nodded pretentiously.

Osborn: Hm. Same like them? Okay, I get it now.

Osborn: So, what do you normally yell? Lemme hear.

MC: I don't! I really don't!

I hurriedly waved my hand, desperately trying to clear my name when I accidentally bumped into someone else and got a vehement glare in response.

MC: Sorry!

Osborn laughed, reaching an arm out to pull me closer.

Osborn: Okay, okay. I believe you.

It was then that the second song started up. We naturally put a halt to our conversation, focusing our attention on the music.

After a couple of songs, I couldn't help but feel like there was something different about today's performance. I tugged at Osborn's sleeve to explain.

MC: They normally sing catchier songs. I don't know why, but it looks like they're doing more of the emotional ones today.

He nodded lightly, calmly watching the stage.

Osborn: I like songs like these.

MC: Great!

The band members played freely on the stage as the spotlights shone at them, illuminating the glistening sweat on their foreheads. They'd occasionally divulge away from their scores to do an improvised segment, showing off their inspiration and the mutual tacit understanding they shared.

Emotions poured out of their music, infecting every member of the audience in the crowd before them and raising the excitement in the air into a crescendo over and over again…

During the encore, Liyuu stood up to thank the crowd from the bottom of his heart as the leader of the band.

And lastly, he ended it off with a bow. I saw him raise his hand to dab at the sides of his eyes, as if wiping away fallen tears.

MC: Oh no… I think I’m a tad moved…

Osborn purposely leaned down, getting in front of my face with a devilish smile on his face. He was clearly enjoying this.

Osborn: Oh? You're crying too? Lemme see.

MC: I'm not!

The live performance ended with a round of thunderous applause. The lights below the stage had turned back on, but the melody they’d played still resonated within my ears as if it didn’t want to dissipate just yet.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The audience started to disperse. Osborn had to reach out to hold onto me as I stood there in a daze, getting swept along with the bustling crowd.

Suddenly, I caught sight of Liyuu coming down the stairs at the side of the stage from the corner of my eye. He waved in our direction. Surprised, I couldn't help but tug Osborn over.

MC: Huh? Am I hallucinating, or is he actually waving at me…?

Osborn waggled his brows playfully at me again as he purposely spoke provocatively.

Osborn: Hu? Looks like he's really waving at you. What now? Should I give you two some space?

Having said that, he let go of my hand and made a move to head outside. I quickly grabbed his hand and held it tight.

MC: Not funny! Stop joking around! You're not allowed to leave!!

I watched as Liyuu got closer and closer. It looked as if he was making a beeline straight towards us, which made me unwittingly panic as I thought of how I should say hi.

Liyuu stopped before us, raising his hand to pat Osborn on the shoulder.

Liyuu: Os! It really is you!

Osborn: It's been a long time.

MC: Wha? You know each other…?

Osborn: Yeah. He's my classmate from the Maritime Academy.

Liyuu: ...And who is this, Os?

I was just about to introduce myself, but his gaze had already dropped to our joined hands. A look of realization dawned upon him.

Liyuu: Oh…

A look at his slowly withdrawing hand was all that I needed to know that he’d misunderstood our relationship. However, Osborn still acted as usual, continuing to talk to Liyuu as if nothing happened.

Osborn: This is my friend, (Y/n) She loves your band, and she was the one who brought me here.

Liyuu: Thank you for supporting us!

Osborn: Grats. That was a great performance.

Liyuu: I’m really happy to run into you here, Os! It’s been a long time since we last saw each other!

Liyuu: It’s so rare to see you! I want to talk to you more.

Liyuu: Our band’s gonna go for a celebratory party now. Drummer man’s also from our alma mater. How about you and (Y/n) come join us for a spin?

Osborn nodded but didn’t reply. Instead, he turned to me.

Osborn: You decide.

I hesitated for a while before deciding to…

Do I want to join the band's celebration?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 5 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 6 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Freedom⊹ —————★❖

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #For Night For Freedom #指间心音 #Interdigital Heartbeat

[spilledsinnamontea]

Of War and Theatrical Play

Summary:

In the height of European Theatre of World War II, Hange Zoë is stationed as a nurse in a field hospital. She sees first-hand the horror of the war and how it affects the soldiers. However, amidst of the chaos of the war, she gets the chance to meet a particular soldier, Levi Ackerman.

[LH World War II AU]

Chapter: 1 / 2

Rating: Mature

Link: AO3 / FFNET

A/N: Inspired by SNK S4 OST: Memory Lane! This is nothing but angst, baby (with a dash of fluff and romance, of course)

IMPORTANT: This is a story about the horror of a war, so expect some mild gore and tragedy. So please, be mindful of what might happen to this story! Thank you ❤

DISCLAIMER: Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan belongs to Hajime Isayama.

Chapter I: A Nurse and A Soldier

It has been five years since the start of the war in 1939. A year longer than the previous war who lasted for four years, from 1914-1918. Because of that, people begin to wonder whether the war will end at all, especially with so many people lost their life during the process to obtain this peace. The war itself is split into two main theatres, The European Theatre and The Pacific Theatre.

Theatre is oddly a fitting name for the war, where a bunch of actors are playing their part in the battlefield while the directors are staying behind the stage as the puppet master. The war is a play and the whole world is the audience, no one knows the ending or knows who wrote the script, not even God or the universe knows it. However, despite that, the show must go on.

After the struggles that the allies experienced throughout the earlier years of the war, by 1944 they are finally able to confine the Germany by pushing them from the east and the west. However, it comes with a price. The high mortality of the soldiers forced the medical practitioners to be near the frontlines of the war, serving in tents they called field hospital as healer and helper for the fallen body, mind, and soul of the soldiers.

A bespectacled nurse with knee length light blue dress is wearing her white apron—with a big red cross sign on the chest area—in a hurry. After that, she put her hair up in a bun and pinned a white cap on the top of her head, securing it with pins.

She glances at her reflection at the small mirror that she puts on top of a suitcase. She readjusts her glasses before finally leaving her small tent. Her steps fast and wide as she walks through the maze of dark green tents toward the biggest tent in the area, the hospital ward. A big red cross symbol can be seen right on the roof. She sees the influx of soldiers being carried in stretchers around the tent; some are still conscious, but some appears to be dying.

From what she knows, the troops are currently in the middle of the fight in the South of Ardennes, which started back in September. It is a battle where the American forces are trying to push the Germans out of Lorraine. However, due to the high numbers of fallen and injured soldiers, the American forces decide to retreat from the battle in October. They intend to let the soldiers rest and heal while the leaders revise the plan of the battle. They built a temporary station near the field hospital, located near the western front of the European war.

She immediately goes inside the tent, and she is welcomed by the stench of blood and sweat. She takes a deep breath as she walks toward the head nurse who is seen talking with a soldier who is crying.

“Hange Zoë is reporting for duty, Ma’am.” She greets the head nurse.

After a few exchanges between them, she is dismissed to do her duty. Hange looks around the tent to search for patient that she can treat. She spots two soldiers who have just arrived at the tent. The taller man with ash blond hair is leaning toward the shorter man with disheveled black hair.

“What’s the matter?” Hange approaches them as she inspects their bodies. The raven-haired soldier seems to be alright while the ash blond soldier is wincing in pain. She immediately leads them toward the empty bed, and she helps the blond-haired soldier to lay on the bed.

“He said that his whole body is in pain, and he also has a fever.” The other soldier tells her with a flat voice. However, she does catch a hint of worry on his expression. “He’s been like this since we retreated from the battlefield a few days ago.”

Hange hums as her brain begins to work, trying to understand his symptoms. “What’s his name?”

“Furlan Church.” The other soldier replies.

Hange looks over to Furlan Church and sees that he is sweating. “It’s okay, Mr. Church. I’m going to help you.” She tells him in a soft and clear voice.

The man nods and Hange takes it as a good sign, as he is still responding to the surrounding. Hange then grabs a slender case from a pocket in her apron, she opens it and gives a small glass stick to him. “Mr. Church I need you to put this thermometer under your tongue for a few minutes.”

Hange then unbuttons his tattered and dirty brown uniform and examines his torso. She finds a bunch of red rashes on the skin of his torso and arms. Hange bites her bottom lip, she has an inkling about his sickness. She returns to him and takes the thermometer from his mouth, the number in the thermometer indicates that he has a high fever.

Hange immediately grabs his hand and bends the joint gently, “Is it hurt?”

Mr. Church grunts in pain and nods at her. “I can’t move my joints without experiencing pain.”

“How about your chest? Do you experience chest pain?”

“A little bit.”

Hange nods before looking around her and notices that other nurses are busy treating other patients, so there is no one that she can ask for help. She glances at the other soldier and asks, “I’m sorry, but can you stay with him? I have to fetch something from the pharmacy.”

The soldier obliges and goes to his comrade’s side. Meanwhile, Hange walks toward the other tent, the smaller one, to asks for penicillin and morphine. After getting what she needs, she returns to Mr. Church. She notices that the raven-haired soldier is giving Mr. Church a glass of water.

“What is it?” The other soldier asks on behalf of his comrade, his gaze stares intensely at her. “What happens to him?”

Hange takes the liquid morphine into the needle, preparing to give Mr. Church a shot. “Rheumatic fever, I’m afraid. It’s quite common for soldier to get it. If we didn’t treat him soon, it can develop into more serious illness.”

The soldier pauses and looks at the weak body of his comrade. “Is he going to be okay?”

Hange cleans the area of his forearm and injects the solution through his vein. “I’m trying my best.” She says before putting away the needle.

Mr. Church seems to be calmer after the shot. Hange smiles and gives him the tablet that she takes from her other pocket. He swallows it with water in one big gulp.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him again.

“A lot better.” Mr. Church replies weakly, almost like a whisper. “Thank you.”

She let out a relieved sigh, “You’re welcome. As long as you are resting and drink your medicine, you should be fine. If you need anything, just call me.”

Mr. Church hums while the other soldier nods at her. Hange is about to leave them, but she notices something from the corner of her eyes. She approaches the other soldier and grabs his right hand.

“What—”

“You are wounded.” Hange exclaims when she sees a bandage wrapped around his palm.

He takes his hand away from her, voice latches with danger. “This is nothing.”

“Nothing for you, but not for me. Even a small wound can be dangerous if it wasn’t treated properly.” She puts her hands on the side of her waist. “I’m a nurse, you have to listen to me.”

He raises his brows at her. He looks curious as well a little bit surprised at her, and it oddly makes him appear more amiable than before. Hange cannot help but to loosen herself around him. She gently takes his hand again; her brown eyes stare deeply into his grey eyes. “Please, let me treat it.”

His eyes widen and he quickly glances away from her. “Fine,” he muttered.

Hange leads him to an empty bed next to Mr. Church—who already fall deep into his slumber. Hange gestures him to sit on the bed while she grabs a bandage and a bottle of antiseptic from her apron. She sits next to him and begins to unwrap his red and dirty bandage. She sees a gash on his palm, it is not alarming, but it still can lead into an infection.

As she cleans the cut, the soldier remains unmoved on his seat. He does not wince or hiss in pain. She takes the time to study him. He has youthful face that seem to be stuck in perpetual frown. His eyes are void with prominent dark bags underneath. Well, it is a well-known fact that most soldiers are sleep deprived. Hange also shares her fair share of sleepless night as her head is filled with worries and irrational fears.

Despite that, he is still a handsome man. He has a very strong jaw, and she imagines how well-built he is from all the training he endured. She wonders—

Hange scoffs as she brushes away her thought. She must remember that they are currently in war, where a lot of life is on the stakes. The life of the soldiers, of the volunteers, and of the innocent civilians.

“What the hell are you doing.”

Hange looks at him and tilts her head, “What am I doing?”

“You are grinning like an idiot.” He tells her. Even though his words are a little bit crude, she cannot detect any mockery in his tone.

Hange laughs as she realizes that she has just make a fool of herself. She shakes her head as she feels a subtle flush on her cheeks, “Nothing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, “You are weird.”

She shrugs as she grabs the clean bandage, “I get that a lot, trust me.” Hange carefully wraps his palm. He does not give her any respond, but Hange knows that he is watching her.

After making sure that there are no other wounds on him, she puts the rest of the bandage and bottle to her apron while she collects the dirty bandage. “You should try to take care of yourself more.” She mutters without even looking at him.

“We are in a war. There are a lot of more important things to consider, there are a lot of comrades to protect.”

Hange turns to look at him, “Well, but you couldn’t save someone when you’re dead, right?”

He stares at her, folding his hands on his chest. “Maybe I can.”

“I agree to disagree.” She mutters as she checks on Mr. Church for the last time before looking back at him. “Please look after him. If you need anything, just call me or any of the nurses here.”

She walks away from their bed, there are other soldiers that she needs to take care of. However, that does not change the fact that she can not stop glancing into their direction, especially to the nameless soldier.

•──────✦──────•

It has been almost two weeks since the first time Hange met Mr. Church and the nameless soldier. She sees the nameless soldier a few times when he is visiting Mr. Church, who is slowly but surely recovering from his illness. Unfortunately, no matter how much she wants to try to have a conversation with him, she knows how important her duty is. Thus, every time they meet; he usually nods at her while she can only responds with a small smile.

When she first volunteered to the American Red Cross as a nurse, she knows that it will not be an easy job. Treating a wounded soldier is different than treating a patient in a hospital. There is a hidden more complex nature of their mental who is also injured alongside their physical body. Thus, she found herself not only treating external wound, but also their mind.

There is a young man, a soldier, who got shot in the arm. Hange remembers him due to the snake tattoo that he has on his forearm. One day, when Hange is trying to change his bandage, the young man suddenly become furious. He refuses to be touched by her, he even shouts at her and throws the bandage to her.

Other nurses are trying to calm him, but it comes to no avail. As if the young man is possessed, his eyes empty but burning. Hange comes forward, trying to soothe him, but he immediately raises his hand toward her. Hange is about to react, but the movement of his hand is already come into a halt by another hand.

“Is that how you show your gratitude toward the people who treats you?” Hange notices that the nameless soldier is holding the arm of the young man. There is a fury in his expression as he mutters to the young man, “Don’t do something that you will regret later.”

The young man stares at him before glancing toward the nurses who are surrounding his bed. He begins to sniffle as he brings his hands to his face. “I’m sorry...” He whispers before his voice slowly turns into a cry.

Hange glances toward the nameless soldier and smiles, “Thank you.”

He nods at her before leaving to return to Mr. Church who witnesses the whole event from his bed.

Later, Hange and another nurse, Nanaba, gently approach the young man. They learn that his name is Daniel. It turns out, he is the only son of a single mother who lives in Florida.

“I don’t want to come home.” He tells them as he let Hange to change his bandage. “I don’t know what to say when I meet her.”

“Is there a reason why?” Nanaba asks, sitting on a stool next to the bed.

“She didn’t want me to fight in the war while I see this as my duty. She’s always like that, telling me to do this, to do that. Can’t she just see that I want to choose my own path? I got mad at her, so we ended up fighting the day before I was deployed. I haven’t talk to her ever since… She must hate me.”

“I don’t think so.” Hange remarks. “The fact that she forbids you to go to the war really indicate how much she loves you. She doesn’t want to lose you, Daniel.”

“You think so?” There is a hopeful tone on his voice.

“Of course, there’s nothing that she wants other than to welcome you back.” Hange says as she wraps the new bandage on his arm. “I think you two misunderstood each other’s intention.”

“Really?”

Nanaba nods in agreement, “Yes. That’s why you have to stay healthy, Daniel. So, you can meet her again. Hopefully, you two can have heart to heart conversation.”

He smiles, “Right. I will do that.”

“In the meantime, why don’t you tell us about your mother? She seems to be an interesting lady.” Hange adds as she finishes bandaging his hand.

The young man’s face lightens up from the mention. He then spends the rest of the night talking to Hange and Nanaba about his mother.

•──────✦──────•

The American troops returns to the battle in the South of Ardennes after three weeks of retreating from the battle. Mr. Furlan is still too weak to join the battle, so he does not participate on the battle. During the time, Hange speaks to him a few of times. Through him, she learns that the name of the mysterious soldier. Levi Ackerman is his name.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Miss Nurse.” Mr. Furlan tells her when she comes to give his medicine. “But I just want to say that you are really pretty.”

Hange raises one of her brows and glances at him in confusion. She then let out a giggle. It is not uncommon for the nurses to receive compliment or even proposal during their service. Which is actually a sad thing, showing how lonely the soldiers are during the war.

“What do you want, Mr. Furlan?” Hange teases as she prepares to inject the needles.

“Nothing. I was just stating my observation.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Furlan. From my observation, you are a handsome man yourself.”

He hisses in pain as Hange gives him a compliment as well as the needle injection. “Uh, I never thought you would return it back.”

“That’s just how I was raised.” Hange smiles before giving him a tablet and a glass of water.

He laughs before swallowing his medicine. “Hey, do you have a boyfriend, Miss?”

Hange grins and folds her hands, “You are quite a talker, Mr. Furlan.”

He puts the glass away and raises both of his hands in surrender. “I’m asking for a friend, not for me.”

She narrows her eyes and mutter in playful tone, “A friend?”

“Yeah, for a friend. I think he is interested in you. But he’s a shy, quite hopeless to be honest. That’s why, as his best friend, I want to help him.”

She pauses before letting out a chuckle, “If that is true, then tell your friend to ask me directly, Mr. Furlan.” Hange answers as she walks away from him. In her head, she tries to think about which friend he is talking about. A figure appears on her head, but she quickly dismisses it. In the end, she concludes that Mr. Furlan was only teasing her out of boredom.

•──────✦──────•

After two months of battle, the American forces are finally able to push Germany from the South of Ardennes. The battle finishes just a week before Christmas. However, the Germany immediately plans for a counteroffensive in the dense forest of the Ardennes itself. The American decides to retreat again to the field hospital, to revise their plan and to let the soldiers receive treatment. They plan to return to the battlefield the day after Christmas.

During Christmas, both sides are having ceasefire. The troops hold a party for the soldiers, the medical practitioners, and for the supporting staff of the war. For a day, they are allowed to forget about the state of the world that they are currently living in. They sing carols, they pray together, and they dance around the fireplace.

As much as Hange wants to join the party, she volunteers to stay in the medical tent with other soldiers who cannot join the party due to their sickness and injury. She is not alone though, she is with Nanaba. They think that they ought to give the older nurses and doctors a chance to unwind themselves from their duty.

“Do you want to listen to a story, Miss Nanaba, Miss Hange?” A man with brown hair inquires as Nanaba apply a new compress to his forehead. Meanwhile, Hange is a few beds away from them, currently taking the sheet off the empty bed to put it on the basket.

“Is it a story about your wife and your daughter, Mr. John?” Nanaba replies with a playful tease.

The man shows his left hand, a golden wedding band can be seen circling around his ring finger. “Yes, look at this, isn’t this beautiful? Every time I see this ring, I remember my beloved. She is the most beautiful, kindest, and intelligent person I’ve ever met.”

“Yes, Mr. John. It’s beautiful.” Nanaba replies, genuinely. Hange shares the same sentiment. If she ends up with someone who loves her the same way Mr. John gushes over his wife, Hange would become the happiest person ever.

“Ah, wait until you meet my daughter.” He grabs something from under his pillow, it is a photo. He shows the photo to Nanaba. “Look at her, isn’t she precious? The last time I met her, she could barely stand on her own… I wonder how big she has gotten? I bet she has grown into a cheerful and energetic child. I’m sure she’s currently running around the house, tiring her mother to no end.”

Hange puts the sheet to the basket before approaching him and Nanaba. “We know, Mr. John. You miss them, right?”

The man let out a sad smile as he stares at the photo, “Yes. It’s been four years since the last time I spent Christmas with them…”

Hange shares a look of understanding with Nanaba. The blonde nurse gives a pill to the man, “Let’s wish that we are finally able to celebrate the next Christmas in the warmness of our homes.”

The man nods, his eyes bright with hopes. After taking his pill, it does not take him long to finally sleep. Nanaba tucks him into the blanket before helping Hange to take off the dirty sheets, blankets, and pillowcases.

However, suddenly, two men come into the tent. Hange recognizes them, they are Mr. Furlan and Mr. Ackerman. Hange and Nanaba ask them about their visit to the tent. Mr. Furlan informs them that a soldier was injured in the party, he broke his ankle.

“Well, I guess someone is getting a little too excited for the party.” Nanaba remarks, her voice latches in worry but also amusement.

“I know.” Mr. Furlan chuckles. “There are a bunch of nurses and doctors at the party, so we come here to ask for first aid bag.”

“Oh, it’s on the pharmacy tent. Let me get—” Hange’s speech is cut short by Nanaba.

“No, Hans. You stay here. If there’s an emergency, you are the best we got.”

Hange furrows her brows, “Huh? Alright.”

“Good idea!” Mr. Furlan exclaims before gesturing toward the other soldier. “I will go to the pharmacy with her while you stay here, just in case Miss Nurse needs your help.”

Neither Hange or Mr. Ackerman are able to reply or object, because both Mr. Furlan and Nanaba vanish in a blink of an eye. Hange glances toward him and as usual, he has that frown on his face. Suddenly, he looks at her and it catches her off guard. He seems to be surprised too, but he hides it quickly. “What can I do to help?”

“Ah—Uhm, you can help me to change the bedsheets.” Hange explains, gesturing toward the empty beds inside the tent.

He nods and walks toward a bed on the corner while Hange choose the bed across him. She keeps looking at him, not so subtly because he realizes it.

“What?” He asks when they both go toward the basket at the same time, putting the old bedsheet inside.

Hange smiles sheepishly, “Ah, I just realize. I never catch your name.” She says, which is obviously a lie.

He shrugs, “Well, I never throw it to you.”

She chuckles, it is probably not something he says to amuse her. It is probably not even that funny, but she still laughs anyway. There is just something about him that attract her right from the start.

“But I can throw it if you want.” He says with a little hint of humor that is hidden underneath his blank stare.

“I don’t want you to throw it.” She replies with a grin. “I want you to lay it to me gently.”

He raises one of his eyebrows before giving her a subtle smirk, “Levi Ackerman. Just call me Levi.”

“Hange Zoë, pleasure to meet you.” She nods at him, “I let the soldiers call me anything, but they mostly call me Miss Nurse.”

“That’s a bit of mouthful.”

“Well, what do you want to call me, then?”

He smirks at her before returning to another bed, “Enough chatting, there’s a lot of stinky bedsheets that we need to change, four-eyes.”

Hange raises her eyebrows, intrigued by the nickname that he gives her. She laughs and answers, “Yes, yes, Mr. Soldier.”

After taking off all the bedsheets, they replace it with a brand new one. At first, she thinks that he helps her out of politeness, but it seems he really enjoys the task. He makes sure that the surface of the sheets and pillowcases are smooth, he even folds the blankets very neatly. Hange smiles the whole time as she observes him and the subtle joy that appear on his expression.

“How long since they’d been gone?” Levi asks as he sits on the chair while Hange sits across the table, his hand holding a cup with steaming liquid inside.

“Too long.” Hange answers before she sips a cup of warm instant tea that she made.

He hums, taking the cup to his mouth. “Maybe your friend gets caught up in the party.”

“Maybe.” She giggles, putting the cup on the table. Hange scans his face and snickers, “Speaking of, I heard that you are the best soldier that we got in here.”

He scoffs at her remark, “Nonsense.”

“They say you are so strong, it almost like you are invincible in battle.”

He clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes at her. “I never thought you like to gossip.”

“Well, sometimes I do.” Hange replies as she looks at his posture. This is her first time seeing him without his uniform. He still wears his uniform pants and shoes, but this time he wears a white shirt that shows his muscles. She returns her gaze to his cup as she tries to keep herself from smiling.

“You know, I’ve never seen you before.” Levi suddenly asks her. Hange is pleasantly surprised by his question, he never thinks that he is interested to get to know her.

She giggles, “Of course,this is my first time being a nurse in field hospital. Before this, I acted as a nurse aide for a year in the big hospital. However, as the war stretch all the way into years, the demand of medic in the front lines are high as ever. That’s why I began my work here last October.”

“I see.” He acknowledges. “That explains why you look so young.”

Hange tilts her head in amusement, “You speak like you are an old man.”

“Maybe I am.”

“I don’t believe it. How old are you?”

Levi looks at her for a few seconds before glancing away. “Today I turn 26.”

Hange blinks as she stares at him. Suddenly, her eyes widen when she understands the implication. “OH MY GOD!”

“Hey, quiet!” Levi reprimands as he looks at the surrounding. Fortunately, the patients are still sleeping soundly on their bed.

“Oh my God.” Hange repeats with reduces volume, smiling joyfully at him. “Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Levi!”

“Thanks.” He murmurs before sipping his tea again.

They sit together in silence as they wait for their respective friends to return from whatever journey they are having. But then, as the night goes even more late, Hange feels herself to be in a talkative mood. Thus, she decides to break their silence by asking the question that she has been wanting to ask. “What do you think about the war?”

He does not immediately answer nor even spare her a glance. However, he looks like he is in a deep thought. Hange realizes that they are not that close for her to ask such question.

“You don’t have to answer it—”

“It’s a lot of things, you can ask one soldier to another, and they would probably give you different answers.”

“…Well, how about you, then?” She speaks her words slowly and softly.

He let out a sigh. “It feels like a nightmare that you can’t wake up from. It went on and on, constantly. In the end, you have no fucking idea which one is a reality, and which one is a dream.”

She notices the veins that appear on his temple, and she also notices how he grips his cup tighter. “I’m sorry. That must be hard and confusing for you.” Hange utters gently and carefully.

“Yeah, it’s very shitty.” He adds as he looks at her. “It changes people too, you know. Not only the soldiers.”

She nods weakly, “Yeah. This is a world war. I’m sure that by the end of this, the world will change too.”

“True… and I don’t think I want to change.” He remarks. “That’s why sometimes I wonder if it would be better for me to just run toward the bullets.”

Hange’s body freezes as she holds her breath, “What—”

“It’s a joke.” He immediately reiterates, his lips grinning as if he is emphasizing his words.

Hange narrows her eyes at him, not in every ounce believing his words. She bites her bottom lips before asking, “Don’t you have someone waiting for you back home?”

“No.”

Hange’s heart sinks when she heard that. Then, without even thinking about what she is about to say. With a clear voice she declares, “Well, you have it now.”

He stares at her with uncertainty, “Huh?”

She returns his intense stare with a softer and gentler one, “You heard me.”

There are a lot of emotions passing through his face. His eyes widen at her, while his mouth left slightly agape. He seems like he wants to reply, but no voice is heard.

“That’s why you have to promise me that you will survive.” She smiles at him. “Because I’ll be waiting here for you.”

It takes her a few more minutes to realizes what she was implying. A heat crawling onto her cheeks, she tries to open her mouth to save them from the impending awkwardness.

“Sorry we took so long.” A cheery deep voice comes into the tent, it is Nanaba’s voice. “Ah, Mr. Ackerman. Your friend said that if you need him, you can meet him at the party.”

Levi leaves his seat walks toward Nanaba. “I see, thank you for the information.”

“No, I should be the one who thank you for helping, right Hange?”

Hange immediately stands up from his seat, “Yes… thank you, sir.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She hears the hoarseness of his voice, but she does not have the courage to take a look at his face. Even when he bids his farewell to them, she still chooses to keep her head low, purposely avoiding his face.

However, that does not mean she did not wonder about what expression that he made when she told him that.

—Chapter I End—

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #I took a break from writing a historical au fic by writing another historical au fic #so yeah #anyway #HAHA #me trying to give y'all historical lesson #I try to make this as historically accurate as possible #but please don't take my fic at face value #this is my first attempt to write an angsty mature fic #as well as writing in hange pov #bluemallow

[monst]

Warnings again: Graphic descriptions of murder, Dubcon, Incest, Pre-meditated murder, Gore

Inspired by: Halloween, Micheal Myers and this post -> Here (The little brother bit of it) 

This story can be read either entirely or you can skip, the middle background, you won’t really be missing the juicy bits since it just describes the early stages of his...infatuation 

7k

Enjoy!

Silence reigned over the living room save for the desperate wheezes of the dual toned man’s hair. The air hissed as it slipped into his greedy mouth, the heavy sound of his pants were followed by the almost painful expansion of his lungs. He wiped a gloved hand over his brow collecting the droplets that had accumulated throughout the ordeal. 

His stormy eyes looked down at his hand, he saw his soiled reflection on the metallic steel. His pupils danced in dilation, his nostrils still flared. His blood was hot, scorching his veins as with every pound of  his heart. He let the blade fall to the stained rug, fingers trembling with nerves? Adrenalin? Excitement? 

It started with the curving of his lips, then a breathless chuckle until he was keeling over with laughter, tears in his eyes as his foot connected with the soft tissue of the body. He repeated the action kicking the belly of his victim, further soiling his shoes. The beige rug was stained a nauseating maroon, said color also decorated the sofa and he could feel the once warm liquid cool on his face. 

A mess of blood and viscera was left in the place where the man had once cowered. He leered over the man’s body, a grin stretching his pale pink lips. His tongue swept over his lips as he leaned down to the man’s ear to whisper secretively. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you the moment I set my eyes on you.” He chirped. “You’ve never deserved her” his fingers slid over the shredded skin of the man’s face as he plucked the crimson stained mask off his face. He stood up and slid the bloodied scream mask over his face, his menacing form illuminated by the colorful strobe lights that still circled the room. He turned towards the staircase of the house, It was time to pay you a visit and give you the good news. 

His heavy footfalls creaked the stairs as he made his way up closer to you, his stomach fluttered with emotion and his elation twitched beneath his trousers. ‘Finally’ He thought as the door to your room whined open. ‘Finally’

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Now you may be wondering how it all came to this. How such an unassuming man could take someone’s life in such a cruel and violent way. To explain that, we need to go back, back in time to the exact moment in which warmth seeped into the man’s heart. The moment in which he decided that he’d do absolutely anything for his older sister.. And that happened when he was a boy and it was all because of the touch of a hand… 

(Backstory is optional, you can easily skip ahead towards the morning of the event)

There was a clear disinterest in the young child’s eyes as his eyes observed the glossy casket. He could hear the whispers of the surrounding guests. The susurrations of ‘what’s going to happen to the children’ ‘The young one doesn’t seem to care about what happened.’ ‘Shush it’s not like he understands what’s going on’ There were more whispers being dropped than there were tears but Shouto disagreed, he understood very well. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

His eldest sister Fuyumi bawled enough for the rest of the Todoroki siblings. Call him cynical but Shouto didn’t understand why he should cry, why he didn’t give a rats ass that the old man had kicked the can. He supposed he should care about the casket next to his father’s embalmed corpse but he wasn’t exactly close to his snowy haired brother.  In simple terms he wasn’t moved by the theatrics and wanted nothing more than to go home. A home without Enji Todoroki, he wondered what life would be like now that his father was dead. Easier? He pondered on all the freedom he’d finally have…..

Shouto truly didn’t understand… He loathed that vile man and yet his eyes were wet with tears, his small nose stuffing as he sniffled. He had balled his small fists, clutching the dark cloth of his dress shorts, his eldest sister Fuyumi had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t console herself, not to mention her yonder siblings. It was at that moment that he realized how alone he was, Fuyumi seemed leagues away, so out of reach. 

His older brother was furthest away the veil of death separating whatever comfort he may have received from the teen. A cold chill filled his small frame until something came and banished it. Your fingers interlocked with his as you drew him close, he glued himself to the warmth you provided, his body shaking as you hugged him whispering consolations. 

“I-It’s going to be okay Sho.” You sniffled. “W-we still have each other.”

Shouto clung to you ever since, you were two years his senior, his beloved older sister who was always there for him. Sure he had Fuyumi but she wasn’t you, she was someone he had a familial tie to, someone who provided for the both of you, to him Fuyumi was just the guardian. She wasn’t special to him like you were, there wasn’t that connection, there wasn’t that bond. And sadly it never developed as Fuyumi had to leave the both of you for  long lengths of time.

You however adored Fuyumi, you were grateful for her sacrifice of becoming something

akin to a parent towards you and Shouto. In your younger years you scurried about to help her with whatever you could and more often than naught it was watching Shouto while she worked. Your little brother was an oddball, he had a habit of following you around and refused to make friends so as not to leave you. Despite countless arguments of it not being an issue he held fast and you relented and allowed him to shadow you freely. 

In all honesty the signs were all there, the youngest Todoroki would become hysterical when he didn’t know of your whereabouts, he was frustratingly clingy and hostile towards all of your friends. You had lost many friends due to your younger brother’s jaws of doom. No one wanted to play with you when your brother laid in wait like a piranha. This led to further skirmishes but Fuyumi wasn’t adept at dealing with such issues and reassured you that it was just a phase.  So you sucked it up, you didn’t want to worry Fuyumi and add to her stress. ‘It’s probably not easy for her to raise us, especially since she’s younger herself.’ 

And so life went on, your brother’s clinginess never waned but it was diminished when he finally entered highschool. Regardless of him wanting it or not people began to gravitate towards him. To him it was the most annoying thing in the universe. He hated playing nice with his schoolmate, what was even the point? He didn’t care for them, he didn’t love them, they served no purpose and only helped in separating him from you. But he played nice. He played nice for your sake, he was your dear sweet little brother after all and he wouldn’t allow those nuisances to taint your vision of him. 

Everything was going swell, Fuyumi was prosering and getting more and more busy. To his delight she’d leave for days on end on business trips as well. His days would start with him greeting you in the morning and you blessing his cheek with an innocent ‘good morning’ kiss. You’d walk to school, sometimes you’d blow off your friends to eat lunch with him, it always made him feel special, and then you’d walk home. He always loved it when Fuyumi was gone and the both of you were alone. It was almost like the two of you were husband and wife. The thought never failed at leaving him breathless. 

It wasn’t weird. He had rationalized that it was only natural to marry the one you loved. Besides you had agreed to it when you were younger. However, not everyone was accepting of the loving relationship he had with you. 

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.

.

“Ew you call your little brother baby?” He had overheard the conversation on his way to your class. 

“So? He’s my baby brother so I call him baby, it’s not a big deal.” You shrugged. 

“It is kinda icky (Name).” The voice that had said it was deep and masculine and he didn’t like how his words made you pause. You should have fought against it, you should have told them to fuck off. 

“O-oh…” You mumbled. “I g-guess he is a bit grown.” He had made his presence known after that, his haughty eyes lacerating your classmate. The smug teen had an arm looped around your shoulder and from the look on your face you weren’t opposed to it. 

That was a turning point in your relationship. To his dismay you began to date that...guy. That fucker drove a wedge between you. You changed because of him, and he hated it. He despised it so so very much. The day he realized that your boyfriend had to be done away with was when he came home one afternoon, you had insisted he join an extracurricular activity and that had put an end to walking home with you. And so when he came home and he heard you, he ran to his room and peeled back the movie poster in his room, his blue eye widening in horror as that disgusting, vile, grotesque creature defiled you. 

The tree at the edge of the property took the brunt of his emotions that day. His fists were split as he abused the bark of the tree, his teeth grinded viciously. All of his fantasies of being your first were dashed, all those nights researching, all those nights observing your body from his peephole, in order to know what you liked “Wasted!” When he walked back in you were adjusting your clothes in the kitchen making the bastard a sandwich. 

“S-shouto!” You yelped. You no longer called him baby. You were startled until you took notice of his bruised knuckles. “Are you okay!?” You fretted, reaching out towards him. He flinched away from you, hurt. 

“Bah leave the kid alone and stop coddling him, it’s just a flesh wound.” The thing scoffed. 

“But it could get infected.” You mumbled. 

“Ughh shut up already, where’s my food?” He asked you… Yes, Shouto despised that man. In his mind he had gouged out his perverse eyes and peeled back his grimey skin. You had regressed into yourself ever since you had gotten together with that guy. He dedicated your every move, and to add fire to the ever growing flames he had the audacity to put his hands on you. 

“Leave him.” He hissed one day. 

“I...I can’t Sho..I love him.” Love? Love he had scoffed. That wasn’t love, god he’d show you what love actually was if you would only leave that man. ‘If only he just died.’ This thought gnawed at the back of his mind as years passed and you remained in such a toxic relationship. By now your...he refused to call him your lover, by now your abuser had died in his mind over a billion times. 

.

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Prior to the murder…   

(Backstory skippers, it begins here) 

It was one of those rare days when that nasty shadow wasn’t looming over you, the both of you were sipping coffee as Fuyumi explained that she would be going abroad. It wasn’t anything new as work for her got busiest during the fall. 

“H-He asked me to move out with him.” You smiled. 

“Absolutely not.” He scoffed.  

“I have to agree with our little brother on this one (Name).” You had blown up on them, screaming about them not understanding, until you were left sobbing in your chair. 

“H-He can change… I know he can.” Needless to say, he didn’t. As soon as he heard that Fuyumi was half-way across the globe he pressured you into throwing a party. Luckily for you Shouto didn’t have any classes to attend and was willing to help you arrange the hastily put together party. 

“I still can’t believe you're with him.” He mumbled as he arranged the red solo cups on the table. 

“Trust me Sho I’ve tried to end it but…” You looked away from the youngest Todoroki until you felt his hand slide into yours. 

“Remember, I’ve always got your back if you need me to fuck him up for him to leave you alone I’ll do it.” He smiled, his heart skipped when your arms wrapped around his neck. ‘Soon’ he thought, his arms tightening around your frame. 

“I really don’t deserve you Shouto thank you.” You sniffled. 

“It’s-

“The fuck are you two doing?” ‘Great’ Shouto rolled his eyes, pressing his lean body closer to yours. ‘It’s here’ “You sure your not tryna fuck your brother you little slut.” 

“Of course not.” You mumbled, your arms tightening around your younger brother’s frame, he felt your body tremble, fear and anger coursing through your veins. Ever so slowly you stepped out of the protective embrace of your brother. You didn’t notice how Shouto clenched his jaw when that man’s hand came down on your ass. You shifted away from him but his hand caught you by the crook of your elbow. “What? No kiss? Don’t tell me you're still mad about me cheating on you.” He scoffed. 

You looked away, a scowl on your lips. “C’mon babe how ‘bout I make it up to you?” He grinned. You weren’t interested instead you turned towards your brother. 

“Are you inviting anyone?” You asked. You caught yourself staring at your younger brother who now towered over you, his dark eyes narrowed at your boyfriend, strong arms crossed against his beefy chest. You made out the way his sharp jaw clenched and it had just struck you ‘He’s gotten so handsome.’ You looked away when you noticed how his eyes softened when he turned towards you. 

“Didya buy the booze I asked for?” The other man cut in. You nodded, grateful that Shouto had ran out and bought it for you while you hid all the valuables in the house. He dropped onto the couch unceremoniously and began to message his friends. 

“So are you?” You asked once more as the both of you continued to put certain breakable items away. 

“Maybe.” He shrugged, he wasn’t particularly interested in inviting the people who called him their friend. 

“You should invite that one girl that used to go to highschool with you.” You hummed. “I’m pretty sure she had a crush on you~”

“She did.” He sighed. “I just wasn’t interested, besides inviting her would only make things....awkward.”

“Your so picky Sho, most sophomores in college are out there partying, living life and ‘fucking bitches’” You teased. 

“Well I’m not like most men my age.”  The drop of his voice startled you, the hair on your arms raising at the slight raspy tone. You excused yourself to change. This wasn’t the first time Shouto’s acted rather...suspicious around you. In his twenty years of life he had always shown particular favor towards you sometimes with an intensity that sort of scared you. It was like he..had feelings for you. 

‘Ridiculous’ You chimed as you stripped out of your clothes. You had always reminded yourself that the thought was preposterous. ‘He’s still waiting for the right one, that’s why he’s never shown any interest in anyone.’ A small voice at the back of your head whispered a small doubt ‘except for me’. “Ludacris.” You huffed as you picked out what to wear and readied yourself, you chose a raunchy outfit, short sheer fabrics that tightened around your curves, heels that flattered the slopes of your calves and a pair of fluffy cat ears. Mittens were placed over your hands as you fastened the faux tail onto your waist. 

You painted whiskers on your cheeks, your lips a deep shade of ruby. You looked stunning and you were planning on using your appearance to get back at your loser boyfriend. A smirk fitted your face ‘That assholes’ going to regret cheating on me’ 

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.

.

Shouto shuffled over to a corner as strangers began to arrive at the family home. He noticed a couple of people from his major slither in but made no move to greet them. After all there was no need. The music was loud in his ears and the stench of sweat hung in the air like an off brand diffuser. It wasn’t long before the house became a clutter of bodies, they donned glitter and masks as they grinded against each other. 

Plumes of smoke blurred the ceiling as people gathered around a bong one of his ‘friends’ had brought in. The breath of the people who came up to flirt with him was thick with the scent of booze. His vacant eyes scanned the crowd, various people dressed as sexy nurses, nuns, devils etc. There were some good ones, special effects decorated a realistic zombie, but not even the walking dead cosplayer could salvage the party. To him it was a miserable event, a violation of his and your sanctuary. All he could think of was how he wished he could recreate the sense from the collector 2. It put a smile on his face. Apparently his smile attracted his friends. 

“Come on Todoroki!” Midoriya chimed holding up a cup towards him. “Have a drink”  “Yeah loosen up and have some fun~” Ochako grinned. “Also~ Look who's here.” She 

elbowed him in the gut, cocking her head towards a pretty long haired brunette dressed as a witch. He rolled his eyes, how many times did he have to tell these annoying people that he wasn’t interested in anyone. 

“Look I know your a bit shy but she still likes you. Maybe you can go over there, chat her up a bit and who knows you might even get laid.” He was not amused. ‘There’s only one person I want to-’ He looked past the girl and his jaw dropped. He could feel his face warm up, his breath complete and utterly stolen. 

“Wow.” He breathed. His friends assumed he spoke of the Yaoyorozu and nudged him over towards that general direction. He walked slowly towards you, you looked a sight. The neon lights made your skin glow, your liner giving your eyes a more cattish look that to him made you look downright sexy. Your exposed flesh teased his eyes and your lips. God he wished he could steal them. 

His throat bobbed as he saw you drink from a plastic cup, your tongue running across your lower lip seductively. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, blood rushing south. His mouth watered and before he knew it someone obstructed his view of you. 

“S-Shouto.” He frowned. “I noticed that you were looking at-

“I’m sorry but can you move out of my way?” He cut her off and made to walk away to pursue you. He was ready to risk it all, he was tired of waiting for you to notice him. Tired of being brushed aside and he was sick of watching someone as ethereal as you be treated like trash. Maybe now was his chance. Your ‘feelings’ for your boyfriend were waning and now was the perfect moment to sweep you off your feet to show you how he was the best choice for you. 

Before he could walk away he felt the young woman grab his wrist. 

“W-wait d-don’t you like me?” She asked. He scoffed, his eyes zoning in on you. He was trying not to let you out of his sight when he saw it. He grit his teeth in anger as you flirted with his senor. Mirio just smiled politely complimenting you as you leaned against him. Yaoyorozu looked at him watching as his grip on his cup tightened and how his eyes narrowed down at the tall blond. She finally understood. She recoiled away from him, drawing her hand back as if she had been burned. 

Her lips curled in disgust, her eyes cringing in disbelief. She brought her hand up to her mouth. “I-I can’t believe it.” She whispered. “The rumors are actually true..” 

“What?” He asked, his sharp gaze slicing through her. She backed up tossing her drink on his face. 

“Get away from me you sick pervert.” she hissed. 

“Hey!” You shouted, you marched up to the girl who tossed the beer into your brother’s face. You quickly noticed who she was and for the wrong reasons you understood why Shouto didn’t like her. From where you were standing you saw a rich, beautiful girl who was angry at your younger brother’s rejection. She had to go. “If your going to harass my baby you can just fucking leave.” You hissed. 

“I’ll leave gladly.” She hissed. “You too fucking disgust me.” 

“Sho are you okay?” You asked, your hand slipping into his. He looked down at it in disbelief, his heart swelled ‘She called me baby again. She’s here in front of everyone holding my hand.’ He couldn’t stop the furious flush from claiming his cheeks. 

“Shouto?”

“I-I’m fine.” He smiled. It was a warm smile, something that unsettled his approaching friends. 

“Good.” You beamed. “You should go change and actually put on a costume.”

He nodded mutely and walked past Midoriya and Uraraka, a blissful smile on his lips as he went up to change. He wondered if you’d like his vampire costume..

“Do you think..”

“Ha, no way it’s not possible…” 

.

.

.

He checked his reflection a couple of times before heading downstairs, he wondered if you’d like the way he parted his hair. He’s heard people say it was sexy, he wondered if you thought he was sexually attractive. As soon as he reached the bottom step he frowned, your blubbering idiot of a boyfriend was piss poor drunk. And by the way he set his gaze on him Shouto knew he was going to have to exhibit an almost superhero level of self-restraint. 

“Oi sissy boy, why you ain’t ever got a woman?” He slurred. “You gay or something?” 

“Okay man I think you’ve had too many.” his friend waved him off trying to get him to leave. 

“No I’m not dun speaking.” He stumbled as he swiveled over to look up at Shouto. “Listen here punk.” His rancid breath fanned across Todoroki’s face, and he couldn’t help but cringe his lips curling in disgust. 

“Ya gotta problem wit meh? Always glaring at me an shit. Alway following my bitch around, you like her or sum? Your dick get hard for your sister?” He had started a commotion, a crowd soon gathering. Shouto had taken your panicked expression in and for your sake, he walked away. “That’s rite! Walk away you prissy bitch.” 

When he came back the party was over and you were left cleaning up the mess. The lights were still swirling around the room and he could make out the lump of the man laying on the couch passed out. Your tired eyes were red rimmed as you smiled at him. “Hey Sho.” 

It was when he saw the swelling in your left eye that he began to seethe. “He fucking hit you again.” He snarled, his fists balled up in fury. 

“H-He said he was sorry…” You sniffed weakly, you were on your last legs. Tired of defending him yet he knew if the man brought you flowers and took you out for a night in the town you’d crawl back having forgiven him. He couldn’t have that, he wouldn’t. “I-It’s alright Shouto i-it doesn’t even hurt anymore.” You sighed as his thumb caressed your cheek his fingers lightly bruising against the inflamed area. You winced and it was only when you met his teary gaze that you began to cry. You cried in his arms, you cried in the arms of the only man who loved you, and the only man who would protect you. He vowed to do justice by you, you would just have to bear it for a while longer. 

He kept his anger under wraps as he helped you clean, his grip on the broom was tight as he watched you go upstairs. It was then that his blood began to boil. But he would have to be patient, he fished out his phone waiting for you to be done showering. The texts he read over left him tugging at the roots of his hair. You hadn’t explained everything. Apparently he had hit you during the party in front of everyone then proceeded to throw everyone out. There were even videos!

White hot anger clouded his eyes, the snowy color was all that he could see as he walked into the kitchen. His heart beat in his ears and his blood was replaced by lava. He panted like something rabid, his vision fading and all of his previous fantasies coming to rest in the front of his mind. Soon his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of a kitchen knife. 

He caught a glimpse of his expression on the metallic surface, red rimmed his eyes' malicious intent curving up his lips. His tongue ran across his bottom lip as he walked towards the living room. His footsteps were slow as he wanted to savor the moment, breath every detail in. Once he reached the man he tapped the knife against his scruffy cheek. 

“You know.” He whispered. “I’ve been wanting to kill you for so so long.” 

He climbed over the man, his legs straddling his form. “You remind me of my father.” He smiled. “And I loathed him~ I didn’t mean to get Natsuo killed when I cut the breaks but” He paused to shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal. I got two for the price of one.” He chuckled, a frown soon slipped onto his visage. He wanted the man to be conscious for this. With out warning he backhanded the man without an ounce of self-restraint. 

“Gah!” The guy panicked. His eyes wide and shifting as he tried to make sense of the situation, all he could feel was the booming pain on his cheek, a coppery liquid pooling in his mouth. “S-Shouto!?” He gasped confused. There was a strange smile on the young man’s face that he’d never seen, it was frightening and he struggled to buck the stronger man off him. “G-Get off me!”

“No.” He wheezed. “It’s funny, isn’t it! The feeling you feel right now? I’m pretty sure my big sister felt it all the time, unbridled fear.” He teased revealing the clean metal of the knife. 

“T-This isn’t funny.” He stuttered. 

“I know.” Shouto seethed. “It’s never been funny, the way you treat the love of my life, I never found that shit amusing.” 

“Y-Your crazy!” He gasped, hyperventilating at the crushing weight and the palpable fear. “I-I’ll scream.” He warned. 

“Oh” He nodded. “I’m counting on it.” He leaned closer to the man’s ear. “You see we have no close neighbors and well (Name)’s room is soundproof. You see.. I just couldn’t stand the sound of you touching her.”

“(Name)!” He yelled, he was met with an explosive pain, his jaw crunching under the force of the blow, teeth loosening, some even dislodging and sliding down his bloodied throat. 

“You know how disgusting it was to watch you touch her? Watch you soil her perfect body.” He hissed, his fist colliding with his face repeatedly, until he stopped suddenly. “But that’s okay.” He laughed caressing the soiled face of the deadman. 

The man whimpered in pain, garbled noises bubbling from his busted lips. Crimson bubbles popped as he tried to beg for the Todoroki to spare him. “Shh shush I haven’t told you why it’s okay. It’s okay because I plan to erase all of that, all those nasty hurtful touches, they’ll be replaced by my loving hands, my lips and my dick. It’ll be fantastic and the best part is that little ol’ you won’t be a part of it.” THe tip of the knife booped his nose and the man scrambled to get up when he felt Shouto’s weight leave him. 

Shouto didn’t know what to name the feeling coursing through his veins. He was ecstatic, he was angry and the thoughts of the future had him giddy. Blood had rushed south and he felt drunkenly dizzy. ‘Woah let’s not get carried away’ he tried to rationalize ‘We still have to deal with him.’ The man held his dislocated jaw and tried to make a run for it. But in his still drunk and confused state all he could manage was a stumble. 

It was then that Shouto came down upon him, he plunged the knife into the soft flesh of the guy’s belly. His wide eyes gazed into Shouto’s blank excited ones and he couldn’t even hold the wound as he was repeatedly stabbed. His thin flesh squelched with each plunge, his life seeping and splattering around his perimeter. Shouto didn’t relent not even as his body slumped to the ground. Instead he followed him down, he snarled and growled as he attacked the man. 

He thought of all he had put you through, how he made you shrivel and curl into yourself like a cooked shrimp of all of the times he talked him down and of the distance he had forced between you. He gasped and panted as he straddled the limp body of another nuisance he had gotten rid of. After a while he pulled back and stood. 

              Silence reigned over the living room save for the desperate wheezes of the dual toned man’s hair. The air hissed as it slipped into his greedy mouth, the heavy sound of his pants were followed by the almost painful expansion of his lungs. He wiped a gloved hand over his brow collecting the droplets that had accumulated throughout the ordeal. 

His stormy eyes looked down at his hand, he saw his soiled reflection on the metallic steel. His pupils danced in dilation, his nostrils still flared. His blood was hot, scorching his veins as with every pound of  his heart. He let the blade fall to the stained rug, fingers trembling with nerves? Adrenalin? Excitement? 

It started with the curving of his lips, then a breathless chuckle until he was keeling over with laughter, tears in his eyes as his foot connected with the soft tissue of the body. He repeated the action kicking the belly of his victim, further soiling his shoes. The beige rug was stained a nauseating maroon, said color also decorated the sofa and he could feel the once warm liquid cool on his face. 

A mess of blood and viscera was left in the place where the man had once cowered. He leered over the man’s body, a grin stretching his pale pink lips. His tongue swept over his lips as he leaned down to the man’s ear to whisper secretively. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you the moment I set my eyes on you.” He chirped. “You’ve never deserved her” his fingers slid over the shredded skin of the man’s face as he plucked the crimson stained mask off his face. He stood up and slid the bloodied scream mask over his face, his menacing form illuminated by the colorful strobe lights that still circled the room. He turned towards the staircase of the house, It was time to pay you a visit and give you the good news. 

His heavy footfalls creaked the stairs as he made his way up closer to you, his stomach fluttered with emotion and his elation twitched beneath his trousers. ‘Finally’ He thought as the door to your room whined open. ‘Finally’

There you laid, body rising and falling in slumber, completely unperturbed by what had happened just beneath your room. You were beautiful. You had changed into more comfortable clothes for sleep and he quietly peeled back your covers to observe. His fingers stained the duvet as he bunched it up at the end of the bed. He pulled off his gloves and let his fingertips ghost over your legs. You shivered cutely at the light touch. 

He smiled beneath his bloodied mask, he figured he should trick you for a bit before he revealed the news. He climbed atop the bed, the mattress dipping underneath his weight. His fingers ghosted up your legs, cold digits reaching the crotch of your pants. He pressed his palm against the soft indent of flesh, his heart sped up at the warmth emanating from your most intimate place. He’d only ever dreamed of this. 

“Hmm” You sighed in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open when you felt the cold fingers. You sat up confused. You called the name of your lover and Shouto chuckled darkly. You huffed in annoyance when he didn’t answer. “I thought I said I didn’t want to see you anymore.” You frowned. “Hello, you listening? Ugh are you still drunk.” 

You flinched when he raised his hand and your brother felt his heart break at the reaction. ‘Don’t worry from now on I won’t let anyone else lay their hands on you.’ His hand slid up to your face and he cupped your cheek gently, pressing his masked forehead against yours. You were thoroughly confused. 

You were used to your boyfriend coming into your room for makeup sex but he was never this gentle with you. The thought of him meaning he was really sorry crossed your mind but, the fingers caressing your cheek didn’t feel like your boyfriends’ but it did feel familiar and it was comforting. It wasn’t long before he began to tug your clothes off your body, his hands traced your form appreciatively and you sighed blissfully at the feeling. 

“H-Hey at least take off your mask.” His silence was strange but you welcomed it. His hands came over your eyes, gently closing them. You caught on and kept them closed as you heard the rustle of clothes. It was then that you felt the press of smooth lips against your own. His fingers traced every inch of your body caressing the smooth flesh as his lips pressed soft kisses on your lips. Shouto swore there would never be anything better than your plush lips pressing against his own. 

Well that was his thought, until his fingers pressed against your slick lower lips. He buried his face in your neck, face flushed as you curled your arms around his neck. The soft squish of your wet lips had him throbbing and he let his fingers pet your clit as he worshiped the delicious length of your neck. You were on cloud nine as he kneaded and massaged your doughy flesh. His lips suckled on your breasts, tongue lavishing the hardened buds in attention as his fingers continued to swirl and tap against your swollen pearl. 

“Nngh” You gasped when you felt his fingers slip inside of you, your fingers coming up to fist his soft his, your other hand clawing at his broad shoulders. It was the feel of these textures that spurred you to open your eyes. “S-Shouto!” You moaned. 

His blue grey eyes slinked up to meet your gaze, his lidded expression filling your cheeks with warmth. Your jaw unhinged in another gasp as his thick fingers continued to slide inside your warm fleshy walls. Your mouth parted in protest “W-What are y-y-” Soft lips caught your own and your eyes enlarged as you felt your younger brother's tongue slide past your lips. The warm wet muscles gliding over your own. 

His other hand palmed your breast fingers squeezing the supple flesh that was still covered in a thin layer of his saliva. You pressed your hands to his chest. ‘T-This is wrong! You thought as his tongue rolled in between your teeth. When he pulled away there was a string of saliva that broke off. 

“I love you.” He breathed, placing his lips where he knew they belonged. 

“Ah~” You didn’t mean to let the sound slip, but his fingers had curved inside of you and with every thrust he put pressure against your g-spot. Your hand went to his wrist in order to halt his movement. 

“S-Shouto s-stop this is wrong, y-your my-

“Little brother.” He finished his mouth sucking on your neck. “I don’t care about that, in my opinion it just means we’re more connected.” His smile shocked you but what you felt against your thigh shocked you even more. 

“I-”

“Shh there’s no one to stop us.” He whispered. “No one to stop me from showing you how you should be loved.”

Your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to string together something coherent. Your protests resumed when he slid his other hand down your body, he leaned up allowing you to see the light sheen of sweat that highlighted the strong muscles of his body. And your eyes looked down his cut abdomen towards the bi-colored trail of hair leading down towards his weeping cock. His eyes met your and your face caught fire. You were about to draw into yourself and curl your body away from his lustful gaze when his large palms slid underneath your thighs. 

Your back hit the bed as he leaned his face closer to your cunt. You mind was still reeling, ‘G-get a grip (Name)! Your baby brother’s face is legit inches from your puss-

“Oh fuck.” You gasped as his hot tongue slid up the length of your slit. His tongue traced your lips, tongue curving into the folds of your labia before sliding back up towards your needy clit. When his tongue began to flick against the sensitive nerves you were lost. You arched your back pressing your pussy closer to his face practically begging him to suck you dry. 

He obliged, his mouth closing around your clit, fingers finding home base deep within your deliciously warm walls. You pulsed and trobbed around his finger and he swore he was dreaming. You tasted better than he imagined, you sounded better in person than from behind a wall. And god you just looked so damn amazing.  

“S-Shouto!” You cried. He moaned into you. Fuck yes that was all he ever wanted, all he needed, he need you to say it again to call his name out so desperately. He was grinding against the mattress as he let your warmth suffocate him. He held you close as you began to tremble your legs clamping over his head as you came around his tongue. 

“Hah~” He pulled back, his lips sticky with your slick, he wasted no time in capturing your lips once more. “Big sis I love you so much.” He gasped. “I -I want to show you how much.” 

“B-baby this is wrong.” Your protest was weak, no one had ever touched you like Shouto, no one had loved you as unconditionally as him, but this was morally wrong. 

“Don’t you love me?” He asked. 

“Of course I love you.” You replied. 

“Then there’s no problem.” He smiled. He settled in between your thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. He could seriously cum right there and then by just the incredible sight. And when he pushed into your hole he melted. He felt even more complete with every inch he fed into you. “I’m inside of you (Name).” His grin was practically euphoric and you fluttered around his impressive size. 

Then he began to move. He praised the feel of you, his length sliding in and out, slow and deep. That night Shouto made due on his promise to love you, and as you drifted off to sleep he replayed the moment, relishing in how you claimed to love him. 

.

.

.

When you awoke the next morning your mind slapped you with what had occurred last night. The horrors of you claiming to love your little brother cock filled you with a crippling sense of shame. You hadn’t woke to him next to you but after dressing you went to find him. You had to let him know that that couldn’t happen again. 

You hugged yourself as you walked down the stairs, from your spot you could see Shouto in the kitchen, on the table were two bowls and a box of your favorite cereal. ‘It’s now or-. The smell hit you first, a strong nauseating smell that you were only used to smelling during your heavier flows. Your blood drain and in its place your heart pumped liquid nitrogen. You reeled back as you caught sight of the body in front of you, you stumbled over your feet, your ass meeting the floor. Tears dripped down your chin as you tried to make heads or tails of what you saw. 

“What are you doing on the floor?” You heard your brother ask. He then noticed what you were looking at. “Oh.. Oh! I forgot to tell you the good news yesterday since we were so caught up.” He blushed. 

“G-good news..”

“Yeah, good news, that’s no longer in the picture.” He beamed. “Now come on you must be hungry~”

#frightober 2020 #yandere todoroki x reader #yandere todoroki shoto #shouto x reader #yandere shouto x reader #tw: dubcon #todoroki shoto x reader #yandere todoroki smut #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki x reader smut

[max-is-tired]

What the hell would I be (without you)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Words: 2.078

Warnings: sympathetic Remus, swearing, self-deprecation, spiraling thoughts, anxiety, crying, kissing, tell me if I missed something!!

Notes: man I love soulmates AUs so much. This fic is inspired by this headcanon from @figurative-siren-song, I just loved the entire concept so much I simply couldn’t not try my hand at it. I hope you guys like it, comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!!

Commission me!!  Buy me a coffee!!  Join my Discord server!!  AO3!!

Virgil stared at the clock on his wall, nervously bouncing his leg on the carpet as he raised one hand to his face. Before he could start biting his nails, however, another hand appeared out of nowhere, giving it a quick slap to keep it away from his mouth.

“No biting,” chided a voice from above Virgil, Remus grinning down at him from his position lying upside-down on the bunk bed. Virgil grumbled but complied, opting to wring his fingers instead.

“You’re an ass,” he muttered under his breath, throwing his best friend a half-hearted grave.

“Well excuse me for trying to look out for you,” Remus shot back, his tone amused. “If you bite your nails you might hurt yourself, and there might be blood and then the whole thing might get infected and they’d have to chop your entire hand off and-!”

Without missing a beat, Virgil reached for one of his pillows and slapped it onto Remus’ face, effectively shutting him up.

“Alright, message received you fucking gremlin,” he said, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips. “Remind me why I have yet to smother you?”

“Because it’s gonna be your birthday in a few hours and you needed your big, strong best friend to hold your hand lest your anxiety reduces you to a hot mess for the umpteenth time,” Remus easily recited, winking down at Virgil. “Not that you need it, you’re already a hot mess by yourself.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, letting out an amused huff as he stood up and stretched his arms upwards with a tired groan -the curse of being born at fucking 2 am, he supposed. Currently, it was only 1:45 am, and for the first time in what felt like forever, all he wanted was to curl up under the covers and go the fuck to sleep.

There was no way he could ruin his soulmate’s birthday if he was asleep, right?

“Oi, Earth to Virgil!” Remus called, startling the boy out of his thoughts. “Did you decide to go for a mental walk without me? That’s just rude, Vee! Come on, what’s running around in that worrying head of yours?”

Virgil shrugged, plopping down on his spinning chair as he looked up at the ceiling.

“Do you think my soulmate will like me?” Virgil finally asked, frowning. “I mean, I know I sure as hell wouldn’t like myself. I’m an anxious, self-deprecating mess, Rem, why the fuck would anyone want to be stuck with me? I’m just going to ruin their birthday, and I don’t want to but I can’t help it, they’re gonna hate me and I can’t blame them for that and then I’ll end up all alone and soulless-”

“Hey, stop with that crap right the fuck now,” Remus suddenly exclaimed, snapping Virgil out of his self-deprecating spiral. The boy pulled his gaze away from the ceiling, only to meet a pair of determined, blazing green eyes.

“That’s my fucking best friend you’re insulting, and I won’t stand for it. You’re an amazing person Vee, you’re loyal and determined and got snark for days. And that’s not even talking about that beautiful ass of yours!! Whoever ends up being your soulmate is going to be one lucky motherfucker, and this is the hill I’m willing to die on.”

Virgil blinked, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as he stared at his best friend with wide eyes. Slowly, he felt the familiar tingle of a blush covering his cheeks, whipping his head to the side to avoid the instinct of doing something stupid like try and kiss Remus or something.

“Shut up,” Virgil muttered, looking down at his hands in hopes that his long bangs would hide just how flustered he was.

“Never,” Remus easily shot back, voice soft and earnest in a way Virgil knew was reserved just for him.

Fuck, and people wondered why he had done something so idiotic as falling for his best friend -he was just… perfect. He was honest, loud and everything Virgil would have wanted and more. He just got him, always had, and before he’d known it Virgil had found himself head over heels, falling and falling with no chance of getting up again.

Not that he would have wanted to, of course. Sometimes, during those endless nights when sleeping felt like the most impossible thing in the world, Virgil found himself wondering if maybe, he and Remus were meant to be. After all, Remus still had to go through the swap, even after having recently turned 20. It wasn’t so far fetched for that to be a possibility, was it...?

Except that it was. After all, why would the universe pair someone as amazing as Remus with, well, Virgil, who seemed to grow needlessly anxious about the smallest and most mundane of things?

And there he went again, his thoughts spiraling more and more as the seconds passed. Of course Remus couldn’t be his soulmate. Whoever the lucky soul was, they were probably someone as incredible as him, full of life and energy and desire of adventure. Not an introvert, anxious downer like him.

1:58 am

Like, who was he even kidding? Virgil probably had no soulmate. His birthday was going to come and go and no swap would happen, not today nor never.

1:59 am

After all, why would the universe doom some poor soul to be stuck with him forever? He should just start getting used to the idea of being alone forever, instead of letting that stupid hope still fester in his chest.

It was just so stupid. Worthless, really.

2:00 am

Except that it wasn’t, not at all.

All of a sudden, Virgil felt a surge of self-confidence overtake him. He stood straighter on his chair, a grin tugging at his lips as his head filled with a thousand ideas. He wanted to bolt out of the room, jump out of his window, run into the woods behind his house and get himself lost in the wilderness, maybe even catch some squirrels.

Who cared if it was the middle of the night and there could be an assassin lurking in the shadows? He could take them, Remus had shown him how to throw knives when they were like, twelve.

Talking about his best friend! Virgil snapped his head up, eyes twinkling wildly under the fairy lights in his room, only to feel his excited expression morph into a frown once he took in the other’s expression.

Remus was hunched over just a few feet away from him, his shoulders shaking slightly as he rested his head between his knees.

“Rem?” Virgil tentatively called, standing up and shuffling forward. He crouched down in front of the other, brow pinched in confusion as he tried to understand what was going down.

Slowly, Remus looked up, his eyes red and wet as he tried to get his shallow breathing back under control. He was clutching at his chest, his fist tight around the fabric of his shirt. All in all, he looked right on the edge of an anxiety attack.

But why? He had been fine just a minute ago! There was no way he could have been faking the determined fire in his eyes as he defended Virgil from his own thoughts, and besides, Remus didn’t get anxious. Like, ever. Virgil should know, they’d been basically inseparable since kindergarten.

Then, Remus spoke.

“Do you really hate yourself this much?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as some stray tears escaped from his eyes.

And finally, it clicked.

“I-” Virgil stared at Remus with wide eyes, trying to process the sudden life-changing information that had come to light. Normally, something like this would have sent him into some sort of attack, his anxiety, fears, and deepest insecurities filling his head until he could barely keep his head above the water.

Instead, all he felt was quiet, unmistakable happiness blooming in his chest, spreading further and further until he could barely keep himself from dancing around the room to try and get rid of some of the overwhelming giddiness.

“You’re my soulmate,” he breathed, a grin slowly stretching on his face. It was wide, bright, unhinged, the type of smile he would have never dared to let appear on his face before -but now, he couldn’t care less if his teeth were slightly crooked, or if a random stranger was annoyed by his smile.

Fuck them, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Remus was his soulmate, and that meant-

Oh. Oh no.

“Shit, Remus, I’m sorry,” he murmured, raising his hands to cradle the other’s cheeks. Gently, he wiped away the occasional tear still escaping his eyes, leaning forward to rest his brow against Remus’. “I’m sorry you have to feel all of that.”

“How do you deal with this every fucking day?” Remus whispered, looking at him as his breath slowly started to calm down. “I mean, I knew it was bad, but shit Vee, I didn’t think it was this bad.”

Virgil hummed, his smile turning a tad softer. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

Remus silently nodded, carefully releasing his shirt to rest his palm above Virgil’s chest. His breath started to synchronize with his heartbeat, and after a few minutes, he finally looked like he wasn’t three seconds away from breaking down in the middle of Virgil’s room.

“God, this is exhausting,” Remus muttered, drawing a chuckle out of his soulmate as he slid his head down to rest his brow on the other’s shoulder.

“Holy shit, how do you deal with this shit basically every other day? It’s not even been five minutes and all I want is to curl up under the covers and sleep for like, a century or so. Maybe more.”

Silence fell around them, calm and comfortable as they held each other. Then, Remus looked up, a pensive frown on his face as he visibly mulled something in his head.

“Can I-” he started, sounding strangely insecure as he avoided Virgil’s gaze. “I mean, can we- uh- god, this is impossible!”

Virgil couldn’t help the amused snort that left his lips as he watched Remus frustratingly throw his hands up, his cheeks crimson red in embarrassment.

“What, Rem?” he asked with a lopsided smirk, feeling strangely coy, “do you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes!” Remus nodded vigorously, looking more flustered by the second. “I’ve wanted to smooch your pretty face since fucking high school, do you know how hard it has been to hold off?? So you better kiss me right now before the embarrassment decides to off me for real by sending my heart on a one-way trip around the world with how fast it’s beating right now!”

Virgil cackled as he listened to Remus’ rant, feeling the muscles of his face hurt with how wide he was smiling.

“Well, it looks like the swap didn’t take away your lack of filter, at least!” he exclaimed, before grabbing Remus by the lapels of his jacket and dragging him into a kiss.

They melted into each other, the world around them fading away until there was nothing but the soft press of their lips and their careful, roaming hands. And just like that, they felt something inside them fit into place, like a puzzle piece they’d never noticed was missing.

Virgil felt the extra confidence and energy slowly slip away, leaving behind exhausted happiness as the familiar background tingle of his anxiety started coming back. As for Remus, Virgil didn’t miss the way his soulmate -holy shit, Remus was actually his soulmate, what the fuck???- immediately straightened up, pushing forward a little until Virgil was bending backward and a massive grin had taken over both of their lips.

“Fuck, I love you,” Remus murmured almost reverently as he pulled back enough to look at the boy in his arms. “I hoped, once the switch didn’t happen on my birthday, I never stopped hoping and I just- I love you so much, you have no idea. You’re the only soulmate I’ve ever wanted to have.”

“I love you too,” Virgil answered, the giddiness in his chest ever-present, burning and shining like a million suns, “but I think you’re talking a little too much right now.”

And he leaned forward again, dragging Remus in another kiss. And another. And another.

Needless to say, they didn’t find themselves in need to talk for a little while more.

#sanders sides #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #soulmates au #dukexiety fluff #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

[professional-benaddict]

Double amputee Little!Peter oneshot

collab with @sugar-and-spice-parker

inspired by anon prompt and @starkersideblog

Daddies Stephen and Tony, +18 Little Peter, doctor Steve, nurse Bucky, Littles are Known, dark, noncon medical procedures, noncon body modification, post double leg amputation, whump, crying, manipulation, angst, 1.5k

No one knows, no one can see. Everything is normal. Peter is normal, and there is nothing to see. Except, there is, and Peter is not normal. 

When they get to the waiting room of the clean smelling clinic, Tony lifts Peter out of his stroller, revealing to the world his two stumps. At the sight, Peter gasps quietly, still not used to it. He tucks his angry face into Tony’s neck.

“Shh, baby.”

Peter knows his legs are gone. He understands that well enough. He just does not know why. Everything was fine two weeks ago. He was playing tag on the playground and running around like normal. Then, he was at the hospital. Then, he was taking a nap. Then, he had no toes. Peter knows his Daddies are in charge. They know what is best for him. Usually, he gets it.

He does not.

When Peter asks about what happened two weeks ago, his Daddies get a weird look on their faces. They say his legs were getting sick, and they had to take them away to stop the sickness from spreading. But, Peter had felt totally fine. He had been running, jumping, skipping and hopping. And now, all he can do is sit on his bum and wait to be picked up.

Peter likes to try and crawl, since it is the only way he can think of that might let him get back a little bit of his mobility, but Daddies always put him in timeout and give him early naptime for trying that.

Peter just does not get why.

“It’s for your own good, Peter.”

He does not know why.

Everything is for his own good lately. Whenever Peter has a question, more often that not that is the response he gets. And he knows the doctor will repeat the same thing to him today. 

After just a short wait, Peter’s name is called. They always go and see the nurse first. This time, it is Bucky who greets them, and suddenly Peter does not hate the idea of having his finger pricked. Bucky is nice, and he is like a little stream of sunlight that lights up Peter’s day. The doctor, Steve, is another story.

“Hey, Peter. How are you today?” Bucky asks, reaching out to pinch Peter’s cheek lovingly. Peter wiggles a bit in his Daddy’s arms. He wants down, but he cannot get down.

“Oh. A little fussy, then. That’s alright.” Bucky coos, escorting them through the halls and towards Steve’s office.

It has been two weeks since Peter had that long nap where he woke up after without his legs. Since then, he has been to see Steve lots, and Bucky too. Each time, the nurse pricks his finger to get a few drops of blood. Peter is quite used to it now and does not react much when Bucky pricks his little finger. However, what comes after is much worse.

Peter sits still on the little bed, the scratchy paper feeling funny against his skin because he is wearing shorts. Bucky is quick, as always, drawing the blood and then immediately giving Peter an Elmo Band-Aid. Bucky even kisses it for good luck, which is coincidentally the signal to Peter that Steve is about to come in.

On cue, the door opens up. Peter tries to pay attention to the fishies on the wall, or the clouds and hot air balloon painted on the ceiling. There are pretty things all over, and Peter forces himself to pay attention to them. 

Peter almost wonders if this is more for Daddies’ and Steve’s sake than his. The three caregivers chat animatedly and laugh heartedly. Stephen is holding one of Peter’s hands, stroking the back of it with his thumb lazily. Peter keeps his gaze locked on the hot air balloon, wishing he could fly away in it. 

“So, how is my favourite little guy? How’s the last week been since I last saw your adorable face?” Steve asks, going to wash his hands. Peter knows the doctor is not done yet. “Your stumps looked great last week, so I’m not expecting anything looking worse since then. Have your Dadas been putting on the cream like I told them to, hm?”

Peter does not bother answering, and instead gives a blank look in Steve’s direction. Of course his Daddies are using the cream. Why would he even ask Peter? He debates asking his Daddies for cotton candy when they are done. Maybe something sweet will help his mood pick up. Or give him cavities. Either or.

Steve laughs. 

“Oh, someone’s grumpy. Okay, okay. You’re a cutie, know that?” He teases, but Peter does not laugh. He wants to go home. He wants his legs back. “Alright, then. Let’s see how we’re doin’, kiddo.”

Peter holds onto Stephen’s forearm as Steve begins to remove the thin layer of bandages around his left stump. The incision is sealed, but the skin is still sensitive and prone to infection, so Peter has coverings when they go outside. Luckily, the raw smell of blood is gone now. The first week, it made Peter sick to his stomach every time his bandages were changed. He does not want to have to have his Daddy hold a rag soaked in peppermint oil up to his nose all the time anymore, so at least one good thing has come out of this appointment. Peter knows he is safe to breathe without feeling violently sick at the smell of his healing body.

“The ends are healing nicely.” Steve explains. “I’d say we can remove his stitches in a few days, then we can let him heal all the way. And you’re still certain you don’t want prosthetics?”

Peter tears his gaze away from the wall at that. The word sounds familiar, and he is pretty sure it means fake legs made of plastic and metal. 

“I get new legs?” Peter asks, sitting up. The boy has not been this vocal in weeks, and the Daddies give him a nasty look. 

Stephen helps him to lay down again, placing a warning hand on his chest. 

“We are certain. We want him just like this.” Tony says.

Peter whines. He wants new legs. He does not want to be left like this. Why don’t Daddies ever seem to care what he wants?

“Peter, no fussing.” Stephen threatens with a point and a glare. This same argument has been going on for too long. “Daddies know best, keep it to yourself and you’ll get cuddles in the big bed later.”

Steve is touching around his stumps now, pressing his fingertips around the incisions. Peter absolutely hates it. He is not quite sure where the sensation is. It feels like it is on his shins, but he does not have his shins anymore. Peter has to bite his lip to stop himself from crying. He is so desperate for some sort of comfort, that he holds onto Stephen’s forearm again.

“Oh, it’s okay, bubs. I know it’s scary. Just breathe.” His Daddy quells, but Peter can only tighten his hold. He wants this all to be over. To go home and get his big bed cuddles and have Daddies promise they will let him get the new legs and never ever ever have to see Steve again.

Peter is not sure if that is possible.

“Right, everything looks good. I think you can start weaning him off the bandages. Get him used to having his stumps uncovered. Keep them clean and dry still, of course, and use the cream twice a day.” Steve says, getting new bandages to cover Peter’s stumps. Tony helps by lifting what remains of Peter’s leg by the upper thigh. Peter despises the feeling. His legs should feel heavier than that. Longer than that.

In his own sense of despair, Peter lets himself cry.

Harder.

Then louder.

Soon, Peter can barely hear what is being said around him over the sound of his own misfortune. There is a ‘healing’, a ‘your choice’ and a ‘he won’t’. It does not make sense.

He tries to quiet, hoping to hear them a little better, but it barely makes a difference.

“Shhh, shhh, little one. I know. I know. Calm down. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” His Daddy says, and suddenly everyone in the room is cooing at him. Doting on him. Telling him how sweet he is and how nice it is gonna be once he has taken his afternoon nap.

It has not been a long day. It is not that simple anymore.

Peter is a limp and sad mess on Tony’s shoulder. The man’s swaying motions do nothing to calm him. Only the idea of new legs will comfort Peter now. 

“Same time next week then? All right, great. I’ll see you then. Get some rest till then, Peter cutie. Bye bye!” 

Peter does not bother answering Steve, let alone look at him. All Peter wants now is to sleep, so that just for a moment, he can forget about all this. 

#my fics #my prompts #laney babey #little!peter #daddy!tony #daddy!stephen #starker #starkerstrange #ironspider #spiderstrange #strangespider #ironstrange #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark x stephen strange #peter parker x stephen strange #tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #steve rogers #james bucky barnes

[onthebelt]

An open letter to every name I have called myself by

Sometimes I think it’s getting better

 and then it gets much worse. 

Is it just part of the process? 

Jesus Christ, it hurts

             Florence + The Machine, Big God

To Shaylin. 

I was you first. You survived for so long, but I had to shed you, or, you had to transform, you couldn’t exist that way anymore. 

I would pull you to my chest if I could. 

I would let you scream your powerful little lungs out. 

You had that right, you still do. 

I will let you scream through me soon. 

I will let you tear at your hair and rock back and forth- 

I know it doesn’t make any sense. Every muscle screaming with the need to leave to run to get away from the things they shouldn’t have done to you. 

Such big feelings packed in such a small body. 

You did so good, you are so strong for surviving for so long. You held on with the strength of an ant. Carrying three times your body weight at all times. 

Your wiry frame did not get enough acknowledgment. 

You are so strong. I am so proud of you. 

For all the times they broke you down you kept on going. You inspire me. Even though you hurt deeply, even though you wanted out at any cost, you are so strong. 

I love you. And since no one else will tell you, I am so sorry for what happened to you. You didn’t deserve it. You did nothing wrong. 

You were never broken, you were just surviving. 

And I am proud of you. 

To Xander, 

You are the piece of myself I hate the most. 

I still hear what they said to us. I hear it bubbling up through our voice, our thoughts, our conscience.

I hated you for being weak. For letting them stomp on you because you thought that was okay. 

I am going to be angry with you now, and then release it, release the self hate I have held onto, like it was our fault. 

I can’t believe you, I can’t believe you let yourself get dragged in again, how could you trust the way you did, when you knew nothing good comes from that. 

I can’t believe you let others dictate your love, that you almost let the most important person in our life slip away because of the irrational thoughts you didn’t bother to fact check. 

You stupid, child. 

That’s enough anger, because why am I really angry with you?

I am sad that we let that happen to us. That we think putting ourselves in positions to be hurt is where love comes. 

I know we are fucked up but jesus we can’t let that happen again. 

Never. 

Someday we’ll have to learn to trust again. To set boundaries and let people in, let someone share the weight with us. 

Even if just for a moment. 

We will be safe someday to let that happen. 

I am so sorry for what happened to you. Your only sin was having blinding faith in those you love, 

to love and trust too deeply, to have unwavering faith in the goodness within people. 

I can’t reasonably fault you for resiliency. I can’t blame you for having a good heart, for making space to love despite being betrayed. 

You were young, faithful, and traumatized. 

You followed your heart. You showed humanity, after being treated like a monster your whole life, 

You’re a fucking miracle on earth. 

You brave, brave, and poor child. I am so sorry for taking away your name, for taking away your chance to know that you are only a human. 

I forgive you.

To Orion (the name they will know me by eternally),

I have been here for 5 years now, 1/4th of my life. I have been known by this. 

From the ashes of Shaylin and Xander, from the ashes of myself,

you grew. 

You survived more of the same, being built and then destroyed but this time you didn’t feel the need to change your identity.

To hide behind new names, to leave your past to other’s memories so that you could be detached from what happened to you in the only way you know how. 

You survived hell. Again. 

And you still let yourself be free. 

You are scared so much, you make mistakes constantly, you hide the truth out of fear-

but you survived. 

And you found it in yourself to learn to not just survive but to live again. 

To let magic shine through your heart, ring from your voice, and infect people’s souls. 

You found the strength to lift your head up, to face the scariest things that you have been running from for years, and use them to grow. 

You are a miracle too. 

The fact that you still stand 

that you still love, 

lift others up, 

bring joy, bring smiles and laughs- 

even if just to hide behind, 

you did that. 

I am so proud of you.