#and that is a nice thing to heal inside of me albeit healing from something fucked up

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for joking about a traumatic experience I went through?

Hi. Recently I (17M) got into a bit of a spat with a guy who I thought was my best friend, and so I’m looking for opinions.

For some context, a while back I took some freaky drugs. Some can’t-even-look-it-up-on-the-internet, top-secret type of shit. Something-something quantuam nanotechnology CPU.

Listen, I don’t really get it, but all you need to know is that they put a computer inside my brain. And the computer told me what to do. It helped me to be cool. It helped me rule.

That’s how I befriended stupid J (My “friend,” 17 M) in the first place. Before I took those drugs, I had NO-ONE. I was a LOSER. A dork who didn’t have a clue! But my computer brain made me POPULAR. Suddenly, I had all sorts of buds, and he was my favorite of them.

Real cool, badass sort of guy. A little bit dumb sometimes, but nice, too. I appreciated his friendship.

…However, eventually, things went tits up with my computer. Stupid thing started harassing me and I realized I wanted it GONE. It was going to, like… drive me insane or something if I left it be. I came to this realization in the midst of a party J was hosting, and desperately tried to get rid of the computer. But the only way to shut it off was with some long-discontinued nerd soda, and I didn’t have any of that! No-one did! So I did the next best thing.

I set a fire and I burned down J’s house.

Listen: I know how nuts that sounds… but you’ve gotta understand how desperate I was! I HAD to get that thing out of my head. Right then and there. And if the only way to do that was, like, ending my life or whatever in some terrifying inferno, then so be it.

And I DID almost die— passed out from smoke inhalation and everything. But stupid J had to intervene. Initially, he evacuated at first signs of the fire like everyone else, but then he realized I was still inside and decided to play hero. He ran in to rescue me, desperate to save my life.

He did manage to drag me away from the center of the fire, but just as he was nearing the exit, the house collapsed on him. Both of us survived, but we were pretty badly burned, and J broke both his legs.

Obviously, I felt pretty shitty about that. But it’s not like I could apologize right away. I was in the HOSPITAL.

And while I was in the hospital, some nightmare shit went down at school.

J and some other kids were putting on the school play (apparently, he felt well enough to be discharged early, albeit in a wheelchair), and unbeknownst to him, some jackass spiked the punch bowl they were using as a prop. Because of this, all of the actors in the school play, J included, were infected with the stupid computer pill brain drug, and they went on a rampage.

Eventually, another kid (I’ll call him LamerJ) managed to stop the madness. He found that long-discontinued nerd soda and shut off all of the evil computers, including the one inside my head (We all, like, had a psychic link via our computers. Long story).

Before he did this, though, like a complete dumbass, J stood up. Instructed by his computer to try and stop LamerJ, he GOT OUT OF HIS WHEELCHAIR AND STARTED MOVING AROUND.

The good news is this didn’t hurt him because the computer shut off his nerves or whatever. The bad news is walking around while you have already fractured legs is going to do irreparable damage to your body and he ended up SERIOUSLY messing himself up.

In just a few minutes, J’s prognosis went from “Your legs are going to need some time to heal” to “You will probably never recover fully. You are going to have a semi-permanent condition for life.”

J was… uh, pretty gutted about this. Dude was big into sports, and so that kinda damaged his prospects.

I apologized to J, OBVIOUSLY, and he said it was good. That we were all good. He said he wasn’t upset with me and he got I wasn’t in my right mind, and after that things were supposed to go back to normal. He was going to be able to get to know the real me.

But here’s the thing: I was struggling with some shit, too, and you know how I cope with that sort of thing? Through humor. I’d make jokes where I called myself stuff like “flaming hot’ and all the other kids loved it. Helped me feel a lot less shit about my burn scars. But apparently J had an issue with that.

He pulled me aside into the boys’ bathroom one day and, out of the blue, started demanding I needed to stop making jokes about the fire. All of a sudden, it was upsetting to him. I told him that I got why he was so crabby about things, but that the fire traumatized me too, and that I deserved the right to laugh at myself if it helped me cope.

I told him it wasn’t me he should be mad at for his injuries, anyways. He should have been mad at LamerJ or YetAnotherJ, who were responsible for letting the punch bowl get spiked. If it weren’t for that, the damage wouldn’t have been anywhere near as serious. They were to blame. Not me.

But he said that wasn’t true, and that as his friend, he expected more of me. He reminded me it was trying to save me he was even hurt in the first place.

I told him I never ASKED him to rescue me. That was his decision. I said I was sorry I didn’t go and factor his feelings into my GODDAMN SUICIDE ATTEMPT.

He started getting really angry. I got angry too. He said I ruined his life, and I said he must have wanted his life ruined. Something about those computer chips is they can’t make you do anything you don’t truly want. Therefore, at least SOME part of him wanted to stand up and shatter his legs. Maybe to get out of the responsibility of having to decide what he wanted to do with his future or whatever (Since he’d always been SO flaky about that).

He said if that were true, then clearly I wanted to burn down his house and hurt him. I told him the computer didn’t make me make that decision and he said that was even worse. He said I NEVER thought about how my actions affected the people around me, and then stormed off, saying he never wanted to see me again.

…AITA? I wasn’t trying to…— shit! I was just trying to cope with everything that happened. I didn’t realize he’d be such a stick in the mud about it. But maybe I am still a dipshit? For, like, being so stubborn or bringing him into all of this or whatever? I dunno. I feel really stressed.

This all sucks, man. Wish he’d just left me in that fire. Bet he’s wishing that, too.

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #HOUSEFIRE #SUICIDE #nonconsensual drugging

[teddi-too]

Male Minotaur x Gender Neutral Reader (NSFW)

A/N: Lemon, 18+, my goodness this plot doesn’t make sense but it’s just a vehicle to the spice, ya know? 

Finally, time away from the city, from work, from everyone. Sure some of your friends thought it was weird you wanted to rent a cabin in the woods for a week by yourself but it was heaven to you. Your job has been stressful lately and with working from home it never really felt like you got a break. You needed to get away, actually away. Out of your home. A chance to decompress and refresh. 

You brought several books with you, some playing cards, and your laptop for when you broke down and needed a screen. The nearest residence was the owner of this cabin and that was nearly a mile away on the other side of the property. You were deep in the woods and you felt comforted by the seclusion. The cabin had everything you needed, a small kitchen that you loaded up with groceries from the nearest town, a surprisingly large bathroom with a huge whirlpool tub, a cozy living room with a gas fireplace, and the bedroom was a cute loft that you had to climb up a ladder to get to. There was a desk near the front window that you could sit and eat or play solitaire at and a small table and chair on the front porch. 

You settled in and made yourself a cup of tea and sat on the porch. It was a long drive and by the time you had checked in, stocked up on groceries and unpacked, the sun was beginning to set. Instead of popping up to make dinner right away, you let yourself just watch the sunset sitting on the porch. The trees were so thick outside the cabin, you couldn’t really see the sunset but it was nice seeing the color change in the trees. The darkness seemed to swallow up the thick forest and you felt comforted knowing you were truly alone. 

The next couple days were simple and lovely just like you had hoped. You slept in, made good meals and laid on the couch reading. But your favorite thing to do was to sit on the front porch and stare out into the woods. There was something healing about breathing in the fresh air and letting yourself do nothing. 

The third day passed by just the same except when you were on the porch eating your dinner, you felt differently than you had before. You didn’t feel the same emptiness from the woods that you did before. It almost felt like something was watching you. You stared at the treeline, scanning for movement and trying to convince your quickening heartbeat that you were, in fact, alone. You stared at the treeline so long you must have gotten dizzy because you swear you saw some greenery moving on its own. A mossy mass of...rocks or something behind the trees looked like it had moved. But that would be ridiculous. Rocks don’t move, moss doesn’t breathe...even though that’s what it definitely looked like it was doing. 

Your throat was dry and even though you felt a little silly, you called out anyway. 

“Hello? Um...trees-forest? Are you...alive? Are you...watching me?”

What the fuck, you immediately thought. Did you just talk to the forest? You stood up and started to gather your plate and silverware. 

“I’m sorry.” You heard a faint, low voice respond. You froze in your tracks, eyes widening to try to see anything in the dusk. “I just liked watching you. Please, don’t be scared.”

Ok, yup. Three days in isolation and you have started hearing voices. You thought for sure it would take longer than that, you thought you could at least make it a week and be ok. You closed your eyes tight and then opened them to scan the treeline again. The mass of moss and rock you had eyed earlier was now gone. Your heart sank. You began to stop forward towards the edge of the porch. 

No, stupid feet. The other way. Inside. Inside! 

“Who are you?” you called again, your voice slightly shaky. You heard some trees groan, some leaves shook, and then out between two trees emerged the most beautiful creature you had ever seen. 

It was tall and broad, its body rippled with muscle and its skin was a cool greenish gray that mimicked the woods around it. It had the head of a bull, with ivory horns extending upward. It had a thick, shaggy mane framing its face that stretched down its neck and covered its shoulder. It’s torso looked like a human man albeit with more muscles than any action movie hero you had ever seen. Your eyes followed along its thick arms down to its hands which nervously turned over and over each other.It’s middle section melted back into the same mossy looking fur of its man and its legs returned to a more bull-like anatomy ending in large hooves. It...he...looked exactly like a minotaur out of a fantasy novel. His face was kind from what you could see, his mane hung shaggily over his eyes a bit. He had to be over seven feet tall. How he had hidden himself so well among the trees was a mystery.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you. You just are so beautiful...I couldn’t help but watch you.” he said, his deep voice getting smaller and smaller as he finished his sentence until watch you came out as a whisper.  You were so mesmerized by this creature any fear you had before subsided.

“It’s ok, do you have a name?” It felt like an odd question, considering it was clearly an intelligent creature that spoke your language but you didn’t know what else to say. What are you? seemed like a terribly rude thing to say. The creature shrugged.

“No, I’m…” he seemed to be searching for words, “the guardian of this forest. Which mostly means I just live here.” You chuckled and he looked at you with a small smile. You told him your name and explained that you were just visiting for a few days. The minotaur knew this cabin well, he liked to come and see who the visitors were. Though, you learned, most of them weren’t as quiet and respectful as you. Most of them came to binge drink and make a mess for a weekend. It made him happy how often you just liked to sit and look out at the forest, his forest. 

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. Are there more like you?” you asked, smiling. He seemed to light up at your comment for a moment before the spark dimmed a bit.

“You really think I’m beautiful?” he rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “I’m...the only one that I know of. I’ve been alone since I was a calf.” You frowned at the sadness in his voice. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said and began to walk towards him. He backed up a few steps as you got close. “I’m sorry, should I...keep my distance?”

“No, it’s just...most people are scared of me or...want to...hurt me.” he said while looking at the ground. He massaged his bicep and you noticed a dark scar stretching across his arm. “I usually stay away from people but…I feel drawn to you and I'm not sure why.” He didn’t move further back when you continued to step towards him. 

“I’m so sorry people have been cruel to you. I would never hurt you, I...you’re so…” your words trailed off. You felt drawn towards him too. You looked back at the cabin, wondering if he could even comfortably come inside. While you were looking away, he had closed the distance between you. You turned and looked up at him. You reached your hand out to touch him. There was tension pulsing between your bodies. You wanted him, you couldn’t explain why you wanted to give yourself so freely to him but you did. You were so certain of it. 

The fur around his neck and upper chest that had looked almost like grass and moss from far away turned out to be soft and thick and cool to the touch. Your fingers could nearly disappear into it. He lowered himself so that you were nearly face to face. You stroked him softly from cheek to chest playing in his fur. Your light, wanting touch seemed to relax him and he began to lean towards you. He snout nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathed in your scent deeply. You felt a long, thick tongue lick up your neck. It was warm and heavy on your skin. It caused an electric and staticy feeling to pool in your lower abdomen. You realized quickly how badly you wanted him--to explore him, touch him, feel him. 

He pulled away and looked at you earnestly with wanting eyes. His strong hands danced up and down your arms and you weren’t sure if he was reassuring you or himself. You smiled at him and nodded your head, closing your eyes and moving in to kiss him. He circled his arms low around your waist and returned your kiss. Before you realized it, he had pulled your feet off the ground and was holding you against him. He straightened himself and you put your legs around him. He so smoothly and effortlessly navigated your height difference to make it so neither of you were straining to meet each other. Pressing against his body, wrapped in a deep, sloppy kiss your body couldn’t help but react to him. Heat moved throughout your body, concentrating in your core and desire took over you. Holding tight to the giant creature, your hips began to writhe slowly against him. 

You broke from the kiss every so often to check in on him, cupping his jaw in your hands, placing small chaste kisses on his snout, moving your hands through his mane and rubbing his chest. Never parting for long before returning to his mouth. 

“I want you--need you,” you said breathlessly. He leaned over and layed you gently on the hard ground and crouched down onto his knees. He stilled himself for a moment and then reached out his hand to you. 

“I want you to touch me but...I know that I’m...different” he trailed off, his eyes breaking contact with yours. You sat up and closed the distance between you once again and kissed his chest and ran your hands over his muscled body. 

“Please, believe me when I say I want this...I want you. You’re beautiful.” You weren’t sure how else to convince him that you were being sincere so you took your hands away from him and began to remove your clothing. His jaw dropped slightly and his eyes moved all over your body as he took in the sight. He cooed compliments about your figure, your skin, your complexion, he babbled on and on until you were naked in front of him. When you had finished taking off your clothes you looked at him and noticed he was palming his crotch. You touched his arm gently and he moved his hand away to let you see. 

The bulge you barely noticed before had grown bigger and there was a small opening that wasn’t visible earlier. You reached out and traced your fingertips along the opening. It was warm and slick. You cupped the bulge in your hands and began massaging it. Looking up at his face, his eyes were closed tight and he was nodding his head compulsively. His fists were balled up, settled on his hips. He was used to his own hands being his only source of pleasure but he wanted your touch to be what undid him this time. 

As you massaged him, the tip of his penis began to push out of the sheath. The head was round and thick, red and glistening with his own slick. You continued to work the sheath, watching in awe as his full length pushed itself out of his body before falling heavily against his thigh. His cock was long and thick and your body pulsed with your need for it. He parted his thick, muscled thighs, spreading his knees apart further to give you better access. You took a deep breath and your body tightened at the sight wondering what it would feel like to be stuffed with his cock. 

You slowly trailed your fingers along the top of his hard cock before encircling it in your palm. It was heavy and warm, your fingers could barely meet around its girth. You dipped your head lower and dragged your tongue along his member. It was sticky with the cooled slick from his sheath. 

After teasing his length with your tongue, you took him into your mouth. He was so thick, the corners of your mouth felt stretched just taking the tip. You slipped your mouth as far down the shaft as you could and began to suck, bobbing your head lightly along his length. You breathed in through your nose, trying to relax your throat and mouth to take more of him but he was just so large. You resigned to focus in on the head of his cock where you could more easily create suction with your mouth. You stayed there teasing his tip until you could taste his precum begin to weep. His hips jutted forward instinctively, choking you on his length. You pulled away with a cough, drool falling from your mouth. 

You heard him clear his throat, attempting to regain his composure. You smiled up at him and began to move your hand up and down his shaft to extend his pleasure. You reached out with your other hand cupping his testicles and rubbed over one then the other with your thumb. The only sound you could hear was his heavy breathing and his choked back groans. His large hands reached down towards you, pawing at you with no real intention. He was overwhelmed with the sensation of your hands working him. 

His hand cupped your chin gently and pushed lightly on your shoulders to signal you to lay down again. Inching forward on his knees, he grabbed your sides and lifted you up onto his hips so he could reach your entrance more easily. You could feel his hard cock digging into your back and you laid, exposed and vulnerable against him. 

He took his large thumb and stuck it in your mouth, you sucked on it slowly moving your head in an exaggerated way that drove him wild. He pulled back his hand and used his wet thumb to start massaging your entrance; slow large circles just next to your entrance. A cool electric feeling stretched out from your sex throughout your entire body. After teasing your entrance, moving closer and closer with his thumb quickening his pace he moved his hand away, leaving your desire falling off a cliff. 

You whined at the loss of his touch and tried to move your hips to show your need. He smirked, moved your body up on him further and dipped his muzzle down towards your sex. His breath was hot and heavy as he moved his snout over sex wanting to take you in with all his senses. He nuzzled your entrance with his lips briefly before opening his mouth and laying his strong tongue against you. His tongue was wide and flat and moved over your hole with a heaviness that left you wordlessly begging for more. His drool mixed with your own slick left you sopping wet and pulsing with need. He worked the outside of your entrance for a dizzyingly long time before dipping his tongue into you. You could feel his cock twitch beneath you and you knew you both wanted all of each other. 

He tasted you, moving his tongue in and out of you, lapping over your entrance until he was confident you were ready to take his large cock. He longingly moved his hands over your body as he repositioned you. You reached for his cock and stroked it a few more times making sure he was at the same height of his desire as you were. You stared intensely at one another, your bodies pulsing with anticipation. 

He lined himself up with your entrance and you felt his thick cock press against you. 

“Please” you whined, not able to take the slow pace any longer. You knew he wanted to savor this but your body needed him so badly. He pushed into you slowly and you let out a loud gasp as your body clenched and spasmed trying to take him in. Your eyes stung with tears as he continued to move into you, stretching you to your limit. When he got to a place where he felt like he couldn’t push in further, he slowly moved out of you; then back in again. He picked up his pace just slightly moving in and out, working you open with his cock, pushing deeper in as he thrusted. 

He grunted quietly as he continued to move faster and faster and you returned with your own moans. The wet sucking noises of him fucking you filled the cool night and your body felt like it was swimming in pleasure. You tried moving your hips in pace with his to multiply the friction your bodies were experiencing but he was so big and you were so overcome with bliss you got lost in the feeling. 

Making you thunder back into the present moment, you cried out loudly as he placed the heel of his hand into your stomach rutting into you with even more strength than before. The added pressure of his hands on your torso made you see stars and your first orgasm ripped through you without any warning. Your body felt hot and sparks pricked all over your skin as he fucked you through your orgasm, never slowing down. You tried to catch your breath and steady yourself but he began fucking you even faster, pushing into you nearly past your limit as he chased his own release. 

“I-want to see me all over you” he stuttered out, a grunt and thrust punctuating each word. You nodded wordlessly, your head dizzy as your overstimulated hole spasmed around his cock. He pushed into you a few more times before he pulled himself out of you and let you drop roughly to the ground. His voice strained against his desire as he grabbed his cock and started stroking himself. Your body buzzed with anticipation and you started fingering your hole waiting for him to finish all over you. 

His head thrashed, horns cutting wildly through the air, suddenly reminding you of his bull upper half. His pace was erratic as he worked himself to the edge, he stuck his hips forward to move over your body and he came with a roar. Thick ropes of white-hot come erupted from his cock and landed on your torso. He continued to stroke himself, moving his hips as he came, sending his seed all over your neck, face and on the ground around you. His whole body seemed to spasm and he fell forward on to his hands, breathing heavily and hovering above you. The sight of him coming sent another shiver up your body as your hole pulsed around your fingers, desire still swimming around you. 

After pausing for a moment, both of you quiet in your blissed out state, he placed a hand on your chest, fingering his own seed admiring the mess he made of you. He placed a come covered finger over your lips and pushed into your mouth, watching your reaction as you tasted him. You sucked his release off his finger. 

“How many more days are you here?” he panted, still catching his breath. You laughed and put your arms around his thick neck. Your body felt completely drained of all strength and you weren’t sure you’d even be able to lift yourself off the ground right then. 

“Do that again and I might never leave.”

#exophilia #teratophillia #terato #monster lover #monster x reader #monster fucker #minotaur #minotaur x reader

[madame-wilsonn]

Unexpected twist of fate

Summary: you work as Tommy’s secretary and a great surprise is waiting for you at work

Request: Hi! If your still taking requests can I please request an AflieXReader where she is new in town and maybe works for the Shelbys legal business and is a secretary or barmaid. And then one day Alfie comes in for a meeting with Tom and when sees the reader and they realize they know each other from growing up or the we and they both thought the other died for some reasonBut they see each other again & are happy and it’s like a cute reunion? If you want to! You totally don’t have to!!❤️❤️

A/N: hello yes i am still alive and yes i have finally finished writing this request! it’s quite short and i don’t really know if it’s good or even what sweet nonnie wanted but nevertheless, i hope you all like it! I really tried doing something...alright lol maybe you can’t see it but I really did

Warnings: English isn’t my first language

Working for Mr. Shelby had been the greatest opportunity you ever got. It was a good paying job, Mr. Shelby was a nice boss albeit not a very warm person and it was much more peaceful than being a nurse in the middle of a war front.

You were happy with this new life, leaving London for Birmingham was the right decision. The painful memories you had from the city kept you from moving on. There was too much of him in London, all the places you used to go to, the street you grew up in, the school you attended. It was too much of him and yet not enough to fill the void he had left.

By he, you were talking about your best friend, Alfie. He never came back from the war, everyone just guessed he died in some German trench and they never found the body.

It had been a terribly hard thing to do, accepting that he would never be back. That’s why you stayed at first, in case he suddenly reappeared on your doorstep. You had imagined all kind of scenarios some where he had to escape a German prison, some where he had been gravely injured but was saved by a kind family and there was even one where you imagined he had amnesia and couldn’t remember who he was. But after two years and a half of waiting, hoping, praying, he wasn’t back and you had to go on with your life.

So that’s what you did, you found a job away from London and a small apartment to live in and you did your best to heal. Of course there were times your pain was too great to forget it was there but you managed. Now five years had passed since the end of the war and you were doing good, you might not be the happiest person on earth but you were content with your life.

You arrived bright and early at Shelby Company Limited, you already had some work waiting for you but before that, you made sure to check Tommy’s agenda for the day. He didn’t have much to do, the only thing written was “9 am- meeting with A.S.”

You had no idea who that A.S was or what it actually meant but after checking your watch, you realized Mr. Shelby’s mysterious meeting was going to arrive any minute from now and for some reason, Mr. Shelby was nowhere to be seen.

But of course, you were trained for these kind of situations and if “A.S.” happened to arrive before Mr. Shelby, you would welcome them, propose them something to drink and - you glanced at the little PS note on the agenda - let them inside the office to wait for your boss.

While you waited, you took care of a few simple tasks and as you were scribbling down a number to call, you heard the door to the office open.

You raised your head as a tall, well-built man stopped in front of your desk, a warm smile on your face. You couldn’t see who he was for he was wearing a rather large hat, the rest of his features were hidden under a bushy beard. You got up to properly welcome Tommy’s business partner (or so you had guessed)

“Good morning, sir. Mr. Shelby hasn’t arrived yet but he should be on his way. Please follow me, I’ll show you to his office.” You said as you showed him the way.

But he didn’t follow, he just stood there and you couldn’t say why since you didn’t even know what his face looked like. You cleared your throat, approaching the rather strange man:

“I-is everything okay, sir?”

“Y/n? H-how...what are doing here?” He asked, shocked.

You didn’t know what to say. How did he even know your name? And why was he talking to you as if you knew each other?

You looked around you, confused and he seemed to realize that you didn’t recognize him.

“Treacle, it’s me! It’s Alfie.”

And at the same time, he took off his hat. For a second, you couldn’t believe it. He looked so different and yet he hadn’t changed a bit. There were a few more wrinkles on his face he didn’t have the last you had seen him and a scar on his cheek he must have gotten during the war. But it was him. It was your Alfie.

“A-Aflie?” You muttered in disbelief, expecting him to just be some sick hallucination but he nodded, a soft smile on his face.

You broke the small distance between you and rushed to hug him. His strong arms wrapped themselves around you and you sighed. It was definitely him.

After letting go, you asked the question that had been tormenting you all this time.

“What happened to you? I thought you died!”

He explained about the events after the war, how he ended up in Russia and almost died, how he managed to come back to London but didn’t find you and nobody knew where you were. So he guessed something had happened to you when you were in France tending to soldiers wounds.

“Isn’t this ironic? We’ve been living a hundred miles away from each other, you’re even my boss’s business partner and we didn’t realize it!”

He smiled at you.

“Don’t worry, treacle, we’re gonna catch up all that lost time, yeah?” He put his hand on your shoulder and squeezed it, just like he used to.

Before you could say something, the door opened again and this time, Tommy walked in.

“‘Morning Alfie. Y/n.” He nodded at the both of you in greeting.

He paused in front of you, waiting for Alfie to come with him to his office but before that, your friend turned to you and asked “when does your shift end, we can go have lunch together, yeah?”

You did your best not to laugh at your boss’s face of pure bewilderment as you told Alfie when you got off.

Tommy cleared his throat and the other man just walked towards the office nonchalantly. But before the door closed behind them, you heard Alfie’s rough voice mumble:

“Nice secretary you got there, Tommy.”

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #anna’s fics

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (15/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 3.2k words

Warning : fluff, smut, Steve being nice for once, mention of assault, healthy communication, drinking, Bec is Bucky’s sister - Rebecca, talk about therapy, fucking on a dressing table, I added the link for the dressing table so it could be easier to imagine lol

Both of you were far from okay, Bucky knew that. You needed time and energy to put in this relationship, and Bucky would patiently wait and giddily put in the work required. 

Just like last time all those months ago, Bucky prepared a plate of fruits with juice for you. If you'd let him in your life, then one thing was sure — you were never having that damn coffee for breakfast. How did you even survive? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and Bucky was baffled when he found out you functioned on nothing but caffeine.

 “Good Morning!” he greeted, you were awake and seated on the couch. “I got you breakfast that isn't caffeine.”

You didn't meet his eyes, but smiled timidly nevertheless. You cringed at your immaturity. Getting drunk instead of having a proper conversation like adults was not your wisest decision. Your last conversation was horrid. What was worse was that he was still being so nice to you when all you wanted was for the ground to open and swallow you whole. It was embarrassing.

You avoided his gaze, and Bucky didn't press the matter any further.

You exhaled loudly and requested, “We need to talk.”

Here it was, Bucky thought. He hoped you both could at least have breakfast blissfully, ignoring the elephant in the room. But he assumed the sooner, the better. Bucky took a seat beside you on the office couch.

“I’m sorry.”

 “I’m sorry.”

Both of you apologized at the same time. Bucky continued, “What I did was a fucked up thing to do. I had no right to decide for you. I'm sorry for hurting you.”

 “I’m sorry for handling the situation immaturely. It was dumb to get drunk and act like that.”

Bucky nodded, he didn't need your apology. He was the one who was at fault here. Although, he would never acknowledge this, but he was glad you got drunk and came to him. He wasn’t smart enough to realize his mistake and if he continued with his stubbornness, then he would have lost you.

Instinctively, he took your palm in his, lacing your fingers with his and placing the entwined hands on his lap. “I — The incident with Rumlow and the kidnapping affected me a lot. More than I would like to admit,” you acknowledged, “And I don't think I’m dealing with everything healthily.”

“What do you need me to do?”

You sighed and propped your head on his shoulder. “Just be there for me.”

Bucky raised your intertwined hands, pressing a kiss on your knuckles, “Always.”

“I don't want our bakery to be just a dream,” he sounded so unsure that you raised your head to look at him. “I want to get out of this life — of the club.” 

“Can you even do that?” You weren’t very knowledgeable about his business, but from what you've gathered getting out wasn't an option.

“I talked with Sam and Steve, and it would take a while, but it's not impossible. I’d have to put in a lot of money, and it will take time, maybe even years, but it can be done.”

For the millionth time, Bucky left you speechless. You didn't want him to change his entire life because of you. You loved Bucky and you would take him just the way he was. With his good and bad, albeit there wasn't anything bad. “Do you want that?”

He looked at you in offense. To him, you sounded insane. Of course, he wanted that. All he ever wanted was a serene life, and now he could have that life with you in it, you were double guessing your worth. Maybe he didn't think this through, but there was no need to question his choice. Bucky was sure of one thing in his life. “I want you. I want you in my life and I want my ma and Bec. And I can't have the most important people in my life if I don’t leave this behind. So yes, this is what I want.”

You smiled at him, and he would kill to make that smile a permanent residence on your face, you didn’t want him to make this crucial decision in his life because of you.

“Plus, maybe some chocolate essence would finally break you out of your writer's block,” Bucky teased, quoting the words you said to him all those days ago and you giggled.

The rest of the morning was spent in comfortable silence as you both ate breakfast.

Bucky wanted to tell his friends about his decision, and he wanted you there beside him. You were terrified, you finally made friends with someone, and now they were going to hate you because you were taking their friend away from him. And Steve already hated you, that wasn't the impression you were planning on forming on his best friend.

To your dismay, everyone looked pleased with the verdict. Turns out, all of them hated hiding their families too. You should have known — worrying every second about your loved ones could make one very restless. 

It was finally decided that the club would just be that — a club. No more side businesses or illegal deals or enemies like Rumlow — it would just be a normal club. The club would go to Sam and Steve, and Wanda would take Clint’s place as the manager. It was also collectively decided that Peter had to go. He was just a kid who wanted to make money for his college tuition. Which now would be paid fully by Bucky. Peter could still work at the club as a part-time job, but he had to go to college too.

It was satisfying to see all of them so content with this decision. You expected at least Steve to interject, but he looked pleased too. What you did not expect was for Steve to approach you and start a conversation with you. You were just standing on the balcony while everyone was celebrating. You told Bucky you needed some air when he asked you what was wrong.

“He really likes you, you know.” 

“I hope so,” you joked, and you saw a smile forming on Steve's lips. Progress, you thought to yourself.

“I haven't been the nicest person to you and I’m sorry for that.”

You looked at Steve in disbelief. Okay, you weren't expecting that. “I don’t know why you hate me. I mean, we barely know each other,” you replied, honestly.

Steve inhaled sharply as he said, “I knew Buck since we were kids. He never hid anything from me until a few months ago.”

What has that to do with you? You looked at him puzzled and he continued, “He attacked Rumlow. Around 3 months ago, he attacked him and we never attack first — always retaliate. That's why Rumlow came after you because Bucky started the fight. I knew it had something to do with you, but he just wouldn't tell me.”

And just like that, you knew exactly what he was talking about. The timing matched with Rumlow’s attempt to inappropriately touch you without consent. 

“I — Rumlow came here during my shift,” you stammered, you didn't know how to tell him. You wanted to heal, you wanted people to know on your accord with your permission. And you wanted Steve to know. “I told him no - several times, but he just wouldn’t stop touching.”

You wanted to be able to talk about this without breaking down every time. And that was a good enough start, you knew Bucky would be proud of you.

Steve's expression morphed into one of guilt immediately. He was smart enough to join the dots, and he felt like an idiot for blaming you and Bucky. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Don't be,” you smiled at him, “You didn't know.”

Steve didn’t know how to react. He felt like a dick — he was a dick for not even considering your point of view. Bucky kept saying that he couldn't tell and Steve should have understood or taken the hint, but he was so mad at you that it blinded his judgement.

The conversation turned uneasy, so you quickly changed the topic and retorted to a joke. “Did you know that Bucky owns a customized t-shirt that says ‘I heart Y/N’?”

Steve chortled a laugh and said, “Now that I do, I’m never gonna stop teasing him about it.”

“It was cute, okay?” you defended.

“Sure it was,” he huffed, “Would you and Bucky like to come for dinner this weekend? Sarah misses her Uncle Bucky and to date Bucky for real you would definitely need her approval.”

***

You examined yourself in the mirror as you straightened the outfit you decided to wear for dinner. You wondered whether it would impress a four-year-old.

Bucky stood behind you, fixing the collar of his shirt.

“I’m kinda nervous,” you confessed.

He furrowed his brows in bewilderment, snaking his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. He whispered in your ears, sending a chill down your spine. “You look gorgeous, doll.”

You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. He gently rubbed his thumbs along your clothed stomach, and you felt calmer. His touch had that effect on you. His touch and presence was enough to make you feel content and for the first time in your life, you weren’t scared. You weren't running away from your vulnerabilities — no, you were swimming into it. And you weren't scared of drowning because you knew Bucky was holding you.

 “I love you,” you breathed, “I love you so much, Buck.”

Bucky extended one of his hands towards your face and gently held your chin between his fingers. Lightly, he rubbed his thumb across your lower lip before lifting your face sideways, claiming your lips with his in a tender and slow kiss. “I love you so much, doll. More than humanly possible.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears and you kissed him again reverently, “Do we have time to spare?” 

“We always have time,” Bucky mumbled against your lips, turning you in his arms to face him. 

Both of you were so eager to feel each other that you didn't even get rid of your clothes completely — just enough to feel the other. He held your hips and lifted you on the dressing table, and you facilitated by spreading your legs open.

Bucky didn't waste a second before diving his tongue inside your mouth, making you feel dizzy with just the intensity of the kiss. One hand in your hair, the other running up your back to hold your neck, craning your skull to give him better access to your mouth. He devoured you like you were a delicious meal that he was starving to taste. 

The hand in your hair hastened towards your breast, squeezing your covered nipple enough to make you gasp into his mouth and get your core wet. He did the same with the other before his hand continued its journey towards your cunt.

Bucky didn't waste any time — quickly, he pushed your dripped panties out of his way and his fingers teased your slit before one digit made its way inside you. His mouth left yours, and he nibbled your jaw and reached the lobe of your ear before whispering, “I’ve barely touched you and you're already so wet for me, pretty girl.”

Before you could react to his lewd words, another finger entered your willing cunt and you clenched around him. “Bucky,” you breathed, your voice barely audible with the intensity of your oncoming orgasm. “Want you now, baby.”

Suddenly, his digits retreated, leaving you empty, whimpering and clenching around nothing. He gave a few quick strokes to his already hard cock before plunging inside you and muffling your cries by crashing his lips with yours. 

He gave you time to adjust to his length and when you nodded, he started thrusting in an enticing speed that had you grasping him around your cunt. Every push of his cock had you seeing stars. All that pent-up anticipation and sexual frustration had you coming in no time, but Bucky didn't relent. “Give me one more, sweet girl.”

His hand reached in between your bodies, instantly locating your clit, and you moaned loudly against his shoulder. Bucky toyed with your ear lobe, gently biting then moving downwards to the spot between your neck and clavicle. He licked before sucking harshly and then licking again to soothe the pain. You held his back so tightly that you were sure it must be hurting him, but he didn't complain, instead he growled in your ear as you tried to hold him inside you — tighter than before.

His hand was running calculated circles on your clit combined with his ruthless pace, and you were reaching your second orgasm faster than you imagined. “Bucky, I’m gonna —”

“I know, baby,” he groaned in your ear, increasing his pace, and a moment ago you didn't think that was possible.

You both reached your high together as he released his seed inside you, and that solely had you nearing your third orgasm. Bucky noticed and smirked before his still hand started running circles on your bundle of nerves again and gave you a few languid thrusts that made you reach the euphoria where you hadn't been before.

He held you, brushing your hair off your face, rubbing his thumb across your forehead to rid you of the sweat, praising you for being such a good girl for him. Once you were back from the land of bliss, he cleaned you both up before straightening your dress out — making you appear like he didn't fuck your brains out on a dressing table.

***

“Traffic,” you lied while Bucky smirked as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

Sam looked at you - both of you with a playful look in his eyes and Steve bought your lie without a second question.

As you entered the living room, you were met with a kid that reminded you a lot of Alec and Izzy. “Uncle Bucky,” she squealed before jumping in the arms of a bent down Bucky.

She stretched a hand towards you and said, “Sarah.”

You smiled at her and took her hand in yours before giving her your name. She looked at you with so much delight in her eyes that had you melting in a second. Oh, that reminded you, “Babe, the cake.”

“Oh, right,” Bucky scrambled to his feet and made his way towards the car to bring the gift you two brought for the family.

“Did you make it, Uncle Bucky,” Sarah asked as Bucky handed her the cake. She grinned when he nodded, “I’m gonna eat all of this myself.”

Bucky smiled, “It's all for you, sweetie.”

She held the cake in one hand and your hand in another before rushing into the kitchen with you.

Sam handed Bucky a glass of a drink that he didn't even notice because his gaze was fixed on you helping Steve and Sarah. You said something to Steve and he laughed loudly. When did you and Steve become friends? He wondered.

“Traffic, huh?” Sam teased Bucky once his daughter was out of their hearing range. Bucky nearly choked on the drink and coughed in embarrassment.

Sam eyed Bucky mischievously and told him to take a seat on the table. Bucky didn't listen and if he did then he pretended to ignore Sam’s words and made his way to the kitchen - to you.

You yelped when you felt two strong hands engulf you from behind, calming down only when Bucky chuckled and whispered in your ear, “Hey, it's only me, doll.”

Eventually, everyone made their way to the dinner table. The food was amazing, some of it was made by Sam - some of it by Steve. Sam’s cooking was clearly better, but Bucky told you not to tell him that because then Sam would get all smug about it. Bucky’s hand rested on your upper thigh for the entirety of the meal.

It brought you back to the time when you both were at your parents’ place and even then the gesture was so welcomed by your body and you. Although you always told him about how inappropriate a relationship with him would be, you secretly hoped that he would call you out on your bullshit. Anyone with eyes could see that you wanted him since the very beginning. Well, anyone except Bucky.

After dinner, Sarah went to bed and it was just you, Bucky, Sam and Steve situated in their living room with a drink in everyone’s hand. 

“The cake was amazing,” you told Bucky when he took a seat beside you on the sofa. Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and held your outer thighs with his other before placing you on his lap. You wrapped your hands around his shoulder and awkwardly looked around at Sam and Steve, exhaling in relief when you found them busy in their own conversation, oblivious to their friend’s antics.

“I can make cakes forever for you, doll.”

“Well, you'd have to make cakes forever if you wanna open a bakery,” you sassed and he laughed before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You beamed at him, placing your head against his shoulder, “I’ve been thinking. With everything that has happened with Rumlow and my family. I think I’ve not dealt with all of it and it still bothers me.”

Nervously, you looked at him and found him already gazing at you with a look so patient and intense. You could see his adoration for you swirl around his eyes and you hoped he could see that same emotion reflecting in your eyes.

“And I don’t want to burden you with my shit, I think I’m gonna start therapy.”

He cupped your face in his palms and you looked at him anxiously. It was a big step - your relationship with him - finally acknowledging that you carried trauma that is affecting your life in more ways that you would like to admit. “Whatever you need, honey. I will be there for you.”

You leaned into his touch, craning your neck before pressing a kiss on his palm. “Did you think you'd be crazy for me when I walked in for the bartender's job?”

He laughed at your teasing words, holding your chin between his fingers and dipped his head down to kiss you. “I love you,” he mumbled against your lips, “And I have a feeling that we’ll be alright.” 

“We’ll be alright,” you repeated his words. It was a promise of a happy and hopeful future - a future you were going to have with him. ”I love you.” You sealed the promise with your lips on his.

⁓

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​ @mybuck​ @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy​ @maladaptivexxdaydreaming​ @sabrinathesimp @realgaytrash​ 

Taglist for future stuff. 

A/N - I had an epilogue planned but idk - this feels very complete to me and I'm scared that if I add anything then it'll ruin the end. I think I'll take a day, think it through, try writing the epilogue and if I ended up liking it. Then of course, you'll get it. Bye Take care!! 

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Babymoon (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Summary: Harry and Y/N go on their babymoon.

Warnings: pregnancy, smut, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hello! I wrote this in order to cross off a few requests. I promised Harry and Y/N would have a baby of their own, plus I get asks all of the time to write pregnancy sex - specifically awkward, giggly pregnancy sex. I also got one about Harry getting a love boner, so here is my attempt at shoving all of that down your throat at once. Try not to choke :-)  I also just reallllllly love Harry, Y/N, and Tallulah, so I wanted to give them some more love. Also made this one pornstache!Harry, so, there’s that. And one last thing...I know the verb tense is way off in this but I could not be arsed to edit it so plz don’t drag me. I hope everyone enjoys! Take care and TPWK.

“Oh my god,” Y/N huffed as she collapsed on the plush sofa in the living room of the cottage.

“It feels so fucking good out here by the water.”

“Breeze is nice, innit?” Harry replied as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to check out how well the place he’d rented for the week was stocked.

“Beats going t’ France at the end of June. Think I’m kinda gettin’ tired of Paris t’ be honest.”

“That is quite possibly the snobbiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Mr. Styles,” she said with a laugh as she began to flip through the tourist brochures that were left on the coffee table.

Not that they’d be partaking in any of it, no. Their plan was to hole up in the quaint, Scottish cottage that sat right on the coast of the North Sea for the whole week, not even planning on changing out of their pajamas.

It was their babymoon after all - a time of peace and tranquility before the arrival of their first child together.

Harry hummed and he made his way from the kitchen to where Y/N was seated on the couch. He stood behind her, knees knocking against the back of the sofa as he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her very large, very swollen belly.

“If I recall correctly, Mrs. Styles, I sat my injured arse in a stiff train seat to Edinburgh for five hours because someone was too scared to fly even though they were cleared to do so by three separate doctors.”

“’M not Mrs. Styles for another year and a half,” Y/N muttered under her breath, albeit not trying to keep Harry from hearing it in the slightest.

Harry snickered into her neck, then playfully nipped her earlobe with his teeth as he whispered.

“Not my fault yeh got knocked up and we had t’ push the wedding.”

“It is very much your fault, Harry,” Y/N swatted at his face, fingers first brushing his jawline that was covered in a rough stubble and then just barely tracing the full-blown mustache that sat like a caterpillar above his bright pink top lip.

Harry smirked down at her, nostrils flaring wide and lips disappearing inside of his mouth.

“How’s your rib?” Y/N asked suddenly.

“Good. Why?” Harry’s brows quickly furrowed together in confusion as to why she was asking about his injury.

“Might have to ride that later if you’ve got the lungs for it,” she tapped her index and middle fingers along her philtrum, right where Harry’s mustache sat on his own face.

Her blunt lewdness had Harry’s cock immediately growing stiff in his pants. It had been a while. His injury coupled with her being in the last trimester of her pregnancy had left them both feeling unsatisfied for the past several weeks. Maybe this babymoon would prove to be relaxing not only because Harry and Y/N get to spend a week without a rambunctious almost six-year-old screaming at all hours of the day, but for other reasons too.

“Think I’d actually drop dead from happiness if yeh sat on m’ face right now, lovie. But, before yeh get too comfortable with that idea, we need t’ head into town. Kitchen’s only got the necessities, and I doubt yeh want t’ eat homemade bread for a week.”

“I’m sure you’d love to eat homemade bread for a week,” Y/N jested, poking fun at Harry’s latest obsession with the carb-filled food.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” Harry toyed as he extended his arms out towards Y/N to use as leverage to help her hoist herself up from the couch.

When she regains her balance, she lifts herself up just slightly to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips that he happily accepts. Y/N hums and jokingly checks the imaginary watch that sits on her wrist.

“How much time do you have? That list is pretty long.”

//

The trip to one of the only supermarkets in the small part of Edinburgh that they were staying in had proved to be rather tiring, because Harry opted to use store-bought pasta instead of making his own - something he never does. Maybe it was his healing rib causing him to be short-winded, but he simply could not bring himself to hand-make the pasta they chose to have for dinner that night. He bitched about it all night, about how it wasn’t as chewy as it should be and how it would have tasted much better if he would have just made it himself, but it still didn’t deter him from helping himself to a second serving.

He claimed it was because while he did use pre-cooked pasta, he didn’t use sauce from a jar and made his own from fresh tomatoes and that was the appeal. Y/N just thinks Harry likes to complain and listen to himself talk.

After dinner, just as the sun was setting and Harry and Y/N were waiting for their pasta to digest before they dove into the box of fresh pastries from a bakery they found along the way, they decided to take a walk around the property. The renovated, stone cottage that was overgrown with vines and leaves sat along a short cliffside that overlooked the North Sea. It was a short walk down the cliff that brought them to the beach, where mist from the ocean whisped around their legs and ankles like a thin veil of smoke. While it was the middle of summer, Scotland’s persistent rain showers and their proximity to the water never made it too hot to bear.

“Lulah would love it out here. We’ll have to bring her when the baby’s older.”

“She realIy would,” Harry agreed as he wrapped his sweater further around his chest.

“Know yeh didn’t give birth t’ her, but I swear you two are just alike sometimes. Absolutely hates bein’ hot and gettin’ sweaty just like you.”

Y/N smiled softly and knowingly at Harry before reaching into the pocket of the patchwork sweater of Harry’s that she’d stolen for their stroll on the beach for her phone.

“I’m gonna call her.”

She picked up on the third ring, Y/N’s phone screen then illuminated with a live image of a gap-toothed Tallulah. Well, it’s Mitch’s phone, but she’d been waiting for this promised FaceTime call all day so of course she’s quick to answer.

“Mummy!”

Both Y/N’s and Harry’s heart swelled in their chest when they heard Tallulah speak. It had been several months since she’d decided to start referring to Y/N as her mother, but neither of them had grown used to it just yet. Y/N felt a sense of achievement in “earning” the title of being Tallulah’s mum after all of the years she’d spent with her, and Harry felt a sense of resolution. His family was a real family now, and not just a patchwork of awkward relationships and trust issues. Y/N was Tallulah’s mum and she was now seven months pregnant with their own child and they’d be married by the end of next year. He was actually there to see his child grow this time, they weren’t a secret kept from him out of spite. He’d be there for all of it, even the gross and bloody and goopy bits. And he’d never felt more complete.

“Hi, baby,” Y/N beamed from ear to ear.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re walking on the beach,” Y/N answered.

“Want to see it?”

The five-year-old (five and three-quarters if you asked Tallulah herself) nodded quickly, and Y/N then flipped the camera around to show her the view of the water. Y/N pointed out their cottage from where they stood in the sand, turning the camera to Harry briefly as he held up a peace sign so Tallulah could see that her dad was also on the beach with her. She told her all about the train ride there and how Harry almost slipped and broke his face when was carrying his and Y/N’s luggage into the cottage.

Harry listened to his two little loves talk back and forth with the biggest smile on his face as he absent-mindedly scoured the beach for rocks he could skip along the water. He noticed whenever Tallulah said something that Y/N thought was funny, she had to cup her bump with her hand and forearm to keep it from shaking her entire body. She told him she hated laughing now, because it made her look like Santa Claus, but Harry thought she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“That’s so pretty! Can we all go when the baby is here?” Tallulah asked, puckering into a pout as she begged.

“I think that’s a great idea, Lulah. We were just talking about that, weren’t we, Harry?”

Harry perked up from where he had been washing a sandy shell off in the ocean and suddenly appeared in view of the camera and took the phone from Y/N. 

“Hmm?” he asked as he studied Tallulah’s appearance.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mitch to watch his baby girl while he went away for a week with his other baby girl, it was that him and Sarah voluntarily asked to babysit Tallulah and that’s what made him so apprehensive to accept their offer. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about a sleepover at Uncle Mitch and Aunt Sarah’s every now and then, but to want to watch his daughter for an entire week certainly was. Harry felt like Mitch was plotting against him and that he’d come back to Tallulah with bright blue hair and bangs or she’d be sporting the world’s worst potty mouth when she came home, but so far that didn’t seem to be the case. 

She was wearing Harry’s “Dream Boat” shirt that she’d claimed as her own a few years back when Y/N had taught her to wear her father’s clothes when she missed him because the smell would remind her of him (he had to steal it back and sleep in it a few times every now and then to keep his scent on it), and her long, brown hair was damp and neatly braided into two plaits and hanging off her shoulders. That had to have been Sarah’s doing, because Harry knew Mitch could barely put his own hair into a ponytail without creating several lumps and redoing it eighteen times before it looked presentable - meaning he certainly wouldn’t have been able to make a five-year-old sit still long enough to braid her hair perfectly. 

She looked fine, though. Happy, healthy, certainly didn’t have blue hair or bangs and hadn’t said a single naughty thing since she’d been on the phone with Y/N.

“Lulah wants us to come back here after the baby’s born and take her with us,” Y/N beamed.

“I think we can work that out. Sounds quite lovely, actually,” Harry concurred.

“Yeh bein’ good for Mitch and Sarah?”

“Mhmm,” Tallulah nodded.

“We had pizza for dinner.”

“That sounds yummy,” Harry enthused, trying to let his daughter know he had his full attention.

“It was bery good,” she sighed.

There was a long pause before Tallulah blurted out suddenly in the most serious tone, “When are you gonna shave the rest of your mustache? Mitchy was making fun of you today.”

Harry was caught between a gasp and a laugh, which resulted in him choking on his own spit. Y/N turned on her heels in the sand to look at him with wide eyes. 

“You okay?” Y/N mouthed quietly to Harry, completely oblivious to everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds.

Harry nodded, wiping the involuntary tears from his eyes as he coughed himself back to life and regained his composure.

“What exactly did Uncle Mitch say about my mustache?” he prodded.

Tallulah shrugged, subconsciously wiggling her loose bottom tooth with her tongue.

“Don’t ‘member. Just that you look weird with it.”

“Well that’s not a very nice thing t’ say, is it?”

“Mummy said you look weird, too,” Tallulah spouted without hesitation.

Her comment left Y/N’s mouth agape, covering her smile with her palm as Harry’s raised eyebrows feigned offense in her direction.

“She did?” Harry asked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah,” Tallulah sighed as if it was exhausting having to tell your own father that his facial hair looks off-putting.

“I think you should shave it, too. It’s scratchy when you kiss me goodnight.”

All Harry could offer in return was stunned laughter while Y/N hid her face in Harry’s peck. Her bump pressed lightly into his and even though he was pretending to be mad at her, he wouldn’t dare think about pushing her off of him - not while she was this warm and cozy against his chest. 

“Well, if mummy really hates it I suppose I’ll get rid of it. But,” Harry pauses and pulls Y/N out from where she had burrowed her face into his sweater.

“I think I might know a trick that’ll convince her t’ let me keep i-”

“Enough!” Y/N exclaimed, clamping both of her hands around Harry’s mouth.

Harry chuckled against her palm and poked his tongue through his lips to lick her fingers, which sent her hands flying back down to her leggings so she could wipe them dry.

“I swear to god, Harry. You’re five years old,” she joked with a disgusted expression on her face, to which Tallulah had something to say to that. 

“No, I’m five years old!”

The two adults laughed in unison.

“Alright, Lulah. We’re gonna go inside now. ‘S gettin’ kinda cold out,” Harry said.

“We’ll call you tomorrow before bed. Alright, lovebug?” Y/N added.

“Okay,” Tallulah huffed.

“We love you, Lulah,” Harry spoke softly into the microphone.

“Love you, too...Daddy wait!”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Give the baby kisses for me. And no bikes!”

Harry wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to cry, so he settled on a closed-mouthed smile that was enough to convince Tallulah that he was unbothered by what she said.

“Kisses for the baby and no bikes. Got it,” he nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna go eat some sweets with Sarah!” the child yelled, suddenly energetic like she had temporarily forgotten that her and Sarah had baked cookies twenty minutes before Y/N called.

“Alright, but it’s almost bed time so not too m-!” was all Harry could answer to before his daughter ended the call and presumably raced to where ever Sarah was in their house. 

“‘S like she doesn’t even miss us,” Harry mumbled as he placed Y/N’s phone in his back pocket and began walking back up to the cottage with his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder. 

Y/N hummed, basking in the warmth that radiated from Harry’s chest as he held her.

“They’re just buttering her up. She’ll be crying to leave by the time we get back.”

“Just don’t really know why they were so keen on keepin’ her t’ be honest.”

Harry positioned himself one step behind her as they walked up the stone steps together, keeping one hand on the small of her back. Y/N peered over her shoulder at him, her tight lips curling up into a smirk as if to say she knew something he didn’t.

“What?” Harry asked.

Y/N shrugged, “Promised I wouldn’t tell.”

Harry clearly didn’t like that answer, because he moved his hand that was supporting her waist and quickly pinched her bum.

“Tell me,” he demanded, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed together in what could be considered a childish pout that mimicked Tallulah’s.

Y/N sucked her lips into her mouth, contemplating whether or not she should spill the beans on the news Sarah had shared with her a few weeks prior.

“They’re gonna start trying for a baby soon,” she whispered as if were a long-kept secret told in a room full of nosey people despite the two of them being alone on the otherwise desolate beach.

Harry’s ears perked up, a wide smile adorning his face from ear to ear.

“No fucking way,” he mumbled, and suddenly all of Mitch’s incessant hammering of baby questions he’d sent Harry’s way in the past few months suddenly making a lot of sense.

Harry thought he was trying to be a good friend and stay engaged in Y/N’s pregnancy, but now he understands the real reason behind his behavior.

Y/N nodded deviously as they make their way into the living room of the cottage.

“They’ve been asking everyone they know with kids to let them come over just to see if they can handle it. I mean, if you ask me, I think they’ll do great. Nothing wrong with trying it before buying it, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

“God, he’s gonna be such a good dad,” Harry was practically beaming for his closest friend.

“I know,” Y/N agreed, walking over to Harry to hold both sides of his head in her hands as if he was a disobedient puppy being disciplined.

Her bump prevented her from getting too close to Harry’s chest, the roundest part of her belly nudging Harry’s tummy.

“They’re both very excited. Which is why, when he finally decides to tell you, you have to act surprised. Act like he told you you just won the lottery or something. Alright?”

Harry sarcastically changed his facial expression to mock bewilderment. His eyebrows rose well off into his forehead and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he gasped.

“How’s that? Think he’ll buy it?”

Y/N jokingly jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Smartass. I’m going to take a shower. I’m sticky and I smell like the ocean.”

“Guess I gotta keep workin’ on it, then.”

When he’s done cleaning up what was left of their dinner, he heads to the master bedroom with the intention of washing up in the shower after Y/N. He’s messing around with the A/C unit on the window to make sure it’s not set to a temperature that will smother them in their sleep and unpacking their luggage into the wooden dresser, where an antique turntable rests.

Stacked long the side of the record player, there was a handful of old vinyl, most of which Harry either recognized or new very well. He was actually shocked to find a Shuggie Otis album in the collection, to which he quickly slipped the record out of the worn sleeve and set the needle to the edge and waited for the soft sound to fill the room while he worked. 

“That thing works?” Y/N’s voice broke up the old 70s tune as she exited the bathroom with her hair tied up with one of Harry’s scrunchies that she stole out of his toiletry bag, wrapped in only a towel that barely fit around her form.

“I know,” Harry agreed, “Needs a new needle but other than that ‘s in pretty good shape.”

“Leave it to you to find a rental with 70s records in the bedroom,” there was a lighthearted tone in her voice as Y/N poked fun at him.

She padded over to her luggage in the corner of the room for a change of clothes, only to realize Harry had unpacked it all for them. As she’s rummaging through the drawers trying to figure out where Harry had put what, she lets her towel drop to the floor freely.

Harry doesn’t know how must time has passed, but he knows he’s staring. He’s staring at the water droplets that drip from the stray hairs on the nape of her neck and run down her bare back. He’s staring at the swell of her stomach where their baby lies, at the faded, almost-shiny stretch marks on the sides and the newer, darker ones on the underside that had only recently broken through. He’s staring at the bracelet on her wrist, the one that’s braided pink and blue with three beads on it - one ‘H’, one ‘T’ and one heart. Tallulah made it for her at school one day and told her the heart was for the baby and also because she loved her. It was hanging on by its last few threads, threatening to snap as each day passed, but she refused to take it off.

All he does know is that he loves her so much that he thinks none of this is real and that he’ll wake up one day and be in his early twenties again with no direction in life and the insidious feeling that he’ll die alone without ever finding his “person.” It’s when Y/N called out to him and snapped him out of his thoughts that he’s realized his underwear are suddenly feeling incredibly tight.

“Har,” Y/N beckoned him away from whatever had been occupying his brain.

“Hmm?” 

He resituated himself on the bed and crossed his legs in an attempt to hide himself from her.

“I said the hot water in there’s kinda shit, so you’ll probably want to wait a little bit before you get in.”

“‘S alright,” Harry dismisses, “Come ‘ere.”

He draws her towards him with an outstretched hand, navigating her around the bedpost and over to the side where he had been sitting. With the gentlest of touches, he runs his fingers over her bare legs. The coolness of his rings don’t make well with her skin that was still extremely warm from her shower, causing hundreds of tiny goosebumps to erupt around her thighs. Harry raises her shirt, one of his that she stole when her own clothes became too uncomfortable, but even now she’s nearly stretching this one to its limit, and rests it on top of her bump.

She doesn’t question him, doesn’t chastise him. She lets him love on her, lets him press kisses to her skin just above her belly button (making sure to give an extra one from Tallulah per her request) and rest his cheek against her stomach while his other hand feels around on the other side in hopes to feel the baby move or kick or do something to let him know that they’re there. Lucky for Harry, baby knows when their dad is around and is quick to make themselves known, so he takes a second to savor these last few moment he’ll have with his newest bub before they’re earth-side in a little less than two months.

Y/N lets him be because she knows how important this is to Harry. She knows that he never got these moments with Tallulah and that it’s one of the things that plagued him during those nights where he feels lonely despite her being asleep right next to him. He never got to feel her kick in her mum’s tummy and he didn’t get to see her grow from the size of a pea to the size of a melon before she was welcomed by her parents and the rest of her family that had been waiting anxiously for her arrival. 

No, Tallulah was dropped on his doorstep like a wet kitten in the middle of the night. Shivering and crying and just needing someone to hold her and tell her that it was going to be alright because her mother had decided she’d be better off elsewhere. Of course, she was too small to remember, but Harry could never forget it.

So, it’s the least she can do. To let Harry love on her. Love on them.

Her eyes catch his once or twice and she can see the gears in his head turning. There’s something on his mind and he’s hesitant to tell her what it is. Y/N lifts his head by tilting his chin up, her index finger brushing over the healed scar on the underside of his jaw from a few months prior.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” she whispered.

Harry shakes his head, a grin on his lips.

“‘M just really, really happy right now. Happy tha’ I’m here w’ you.”

Y/N smiles back at him genuinely before pulling away from his grasp and gesturing to his lap.

“And I’m happy that I’m here with you. Seems like your little friend is really happy, too.”

A soft groan emits from Harry chest, having realized he’d uncrossed his legs at some point and his very prominent bulge had come into Y/N’s view.

“Sorry, lovie. Didn’t mean t’ make it like tha-”

“I’m just messing with you. You know,” she ponders, “I was half-way kidding when I asked about your lungs earlier. But... This will be the last time we’re kid-free for a while,” she taunted.

“Are yeh asking?” Harry jests and points his thumb towards the bathroom door, “‘Cos I was actually plannin’ on just having a wank in the shower.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N shrugs and moves his hands off of her waist as she pretends to walk towards the living room.

Before she can take two steps, Harry’s standing up and pulling her back into him for a kiss. It’s full of heat and passion and almost knocks Y/N off of her feet. He cradles her head in his large hands and moves to whisper in her ear.

“Really gonna let me fuck yeh?”

A quiet chuckle escapes her lips, to which she replies, “What else did you think we were gonna do all week?”

He’s unable to bite back his own laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound to ever grace Y/N’s ears.

“Then get on the bed and take yeh clothes off.”

They work quickly, as they’ve conditioned themselves to do over the years of squeezing in any time they can together before they’re interrupted. Y/N lies back on her elbows as she waits for Harry to undo his pants and her breath catches in her throat when his boxers hit the floor. 

His cock is hard, not fully, but the sight of the first few beads of glistening precum causes a shiver to run down her spine. She’s blown him a handful of times since he’s been in recovery, but she’s been far too pregnant and he’s been far too injured lately to engage in any kind of actual fun. It’s safe to say that they’re both more than ready. 

Harry scratches at his scalp, unsure of how to word his questions as he looks her body up and down.

“How do you...erm...how do you wanna-?”

“My stomach, please,” Y/N says with a laugh.

She quickly reaches for one of the pillows behind her and gets on all fours, wedging the object underneath her bump to keep some of the weight off of her back. Slowly, she arches her spine down towards the mattress, and the glimpse Harry catches of her pussy through the light of the setting sun is enough to send another jolt straight to his cock.

Harry wastes no time joining her on the bed, caressing her hips and moving back to massage the plump skin of her ass. He leans down on top of her, flips her hair over to one side, and begins sucking on the sensitive skin between her neck and jaw.

“Gonna let me taste yeh first, right?” he mumbles into her skin.

Y/N hums in response, attempting to rock backwards in order to feel Harry’s cock rub against her backside. She hears Harry laugh, presumably because he’s caught on to her neediness, so it only pushes him further to be the tease he’s notorious for being.

He sponges wet kisses down her back, getting a rise out of every audible breath that leaves Y/N’s throat.

“Relax, baby,” Harry says when he feels her growing tenser as his kisses travel closer to where she needs him the most.

“Gonna get yeh there. Just gotta be patient.”

Harry presses one last kiss on the final notch of her spine before using one of his hands to spread her legs open just a little bit further. When he parts the globes of her ass, his mouth waters. Her pussy is shimmering with her arousal, perfect and on display just for him. 

He tests the waters by running the tip of his tongue from her clit up to her center and he hears a sigh of relief leave Y/N’s lungs at the contact. Next, he’s massaging her folds, exploring her and refamiliarizing himself with the way she tasted. Harry feels her relax into the mattress with each lap of his tongue against her, silently begging him for more. His tentativeness allows him to read her body language and he draws back momentarily to spread her lips apart with his middle and index finger.

The cool air against her core stuns Y/N, but is quickly drowned out with a moan when she feels Harry’s warm saliva drip from her ass down to her clit. His mouth is back on her before she can recover from the sensation, lapping her up and flicking at her clit with his tongue and driving her mad. He’s got his nose buried inside of her as he devours her in the way that he’s really been yearning to for months (he doesn’t count the late night or early morning quickies because he claims he never gets to spend as much time taking care of her as he really wants to). The scruff from his mustache is staunch against her soft folds, but Harry’s tongue is quick to soothe the burn and she loves it.

He smirks against her as she lets out a particularly loud moan when his facial hair brushes against her clit. What was that about shaving my mustache? he thinks to himself but does not dare say aloud.

When he senses that she needs even more, his fingers move from spreading her apart to pressing against her opening. Gathering her wetness on his digits, he slowly pumps them in and out of her. Y/N’s mewls and whimpers are like music to his ears and only spurs him on further. He ruts his hips against the comforter, anything to relieve the throbbing between his legs that is a result of how pliable she’s become for him. She’s soaking the rings on his fingers in the most picture-perfect way and Harry truly genuinely can’t get enough of it; and neither can she. Which is why he’s confused when one of her hands swings around her backside to stop Harry from working her open.

“Har-” she pants.

He withdrawals all contact immediately and peaks his head around to look at her face.

“Yeh good?” he asks as she’s stands up on her knees and turns around to face him.

“‘M great. Wanna be on top now,” she says, her lips plump and swollen from biting down on them so harshly that she nearly drew blood.

“You sure? Yeh don’t want me t’ finish yeh first?”

His eyes dart from her lust-blown eyes to her round belly.

“Mhm. Now lay your pretty ass down before I change my mind.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice and he’s rolling over on his back, working his way to prop himself up against the headboard. His cock is red and leaking against his stomach, excruciatingly waiting to be buried inside of his girl. He wonders why she’s staring at him with an annoyed expression on her face, but then she speaks up.

“Do you see how pregnant I am? Gonna have to lay all the way down, shit head.”

He does as he’s told and he’s honestly scared that he’ll cum in five seconds if she doesn’t get on with it. 

“I swear to god, if you laugh at me,” she grunts as she straddles his waist, “I’ll cut it off.”

“‘M not gonna lau-”

It’s his turn to moan aloud when she grips onto his cock, running it across her folds to collect as much wetness as she can before she allows him to stretch her out. He’s focusing so much on not losing it right then and there that he doesn’t realize she’s stopped and is waiting for the go-ahead. Through his dark, thick lashes, he nods; as if she would have to ask.

Harry reaches for her hands as she lowers herself onto him, the two of them squeezing a bit too harshly when she reaches the last few inches. The burn consumes Y/N from the inside and out, but it’s never felt so right to either of them. 

She’s not moving just yet, but her cunt is pulsing around him and it feels almost as good as the real thing. They’re staring at each other, both with looks that relay more than words.

“Love you,” Harry’s face softens as he looks up at her.

“Love you, too,” Y/N smiles as she leans down as far as she can in search of a kiss.

He meets her in the middle and their lips find one another and mash together in harmony. The rocking of their hips reminds both of them what they’re actually doing, and causes both of them to gasp at the way Y/N pumped Harry half-way in and out of her. 

When she’s settled back down on the base of his cock, she begins slowly rutting herself back and forth. It takes her just a little bit longer than usual to work up a steady rhythm, but when she’s got it, boy does she got it and it feels so fucking good. The tip of Harry’s cock is pressing against the deepest parts of her and before she knows it, there’s a warm coil winding up in her tummy that bounds itself tighter and tighter inside of her.

She needs to go faster and she needs to go faster now, so she braces her hands on Harry’s chest as she continues to fuck herself on Harry’s cock. Harry lets out a sound that she can’t tell apart between a groan of pleasure and one of pain. His hands dart quickly from where they’d been gripping at her thighs to grip at her wrists.

“Can’t do tha’, lovie. Not the ribs.”

“Shit,” she laughs, subconsciously clenching down on his shaft in the process.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Harry reassures her as he repositions her hands on his shoulders so she can still have something to grab on to.

“Keep going.” 

Her bump is now cradled against Harry’s stomach and it allows her to find relief in the way that her clit is brushing against the trimmed nest of hair that lies around the base of his thick, throbbing cock. He’s twitching inside of her so much that she can feel it alongside her thrusts as they continue. They both won’t last much longer and they know it. 

“‘M getting close.”

“I know,” Harry pants beneath her.

She switches positions, now with her fingers digging so hard into the meat of Harry’s thighs that her knuckles are changing color. She’s able to lift her hips up and down a bit more from this angle, and it allows Harry’s cock to nudge against her sweet spot.

“Feels so good, H,” she whimpers so quietly that almost Harry couldn’t even hear it.

“‘S that it? Right there?” he mocks as he works at meeting her thrusts with his own.

The best he gets from Y/N is a nod as she focuses the best she can on getting herself there. She’s coating him with her juices with each pump and with one glance down at where they’re joined together nearly shoots Harry over the edge.

“Yeh gonna cum f’ me?” Harry asks as his thumb reaches under her to begin rubbing circles on her clit.

“Gonna give me a good one?”

His movements coupled with his words catalyze the tightness within her, threatening to snap at any moment. She’s definitely sweaty and tired of being on top, but she’s so close now that she wills away the pain in her lower back and thighs.

“Come on, bunny. Give it to me.”

He works with that he can and makes sure he’s slamming into her as deep as he can, speeding up the pace he’s making with her clit in the process. 

She cums with a strangled, “Fuck,” and a shrill cry of his name, and that’s all he needs to meet his end as well. The world is black and quiet for the two of them for just a brief moment, and then they’re both seeing all of the stars in the galaxy.

Her walls are coated with the warm ropes of his seed and spills out of her as she milks him, coaxing all she can out of both hers and Harry’s orgasms. Y/N can feel the last few twitches of Harry’s cock inside of her and her movements slow to a stop. 

His cum is splashed along her inner thighs and around Harry’s shaft, and they’re both struggling to catch their breath. Y/N feels sorry for him for a brief second when she sees him clutching onto the left side of his ribs, but then she remembers the situation that put him there in the first place and great incredible fuck she just gave him and so she decides not to dwell on it too much. 

Serves him right.

She collapses on the bed beside him, the two of them staring idly at the ceiling. It’s nearly dark now, the sun having set long ago and only their silhouettes are visible in the moonlight. Harry reaches over to pet her cheek and press a kiss into her hair as their breathing slowly but surely evens out and they come to.

They’re both too tired and fucked out to have a lucid conversation, so they’ll save that for tomorrow. No. Right now was for cuddles and falling asleep to the sounds of each other’s soft breaths and the peace of mind knowing that they can do this every single night for the rest of their lives if they wanted to because they’re getting married and they have a family together and they’re so in love with each other that nothing else matters.

When Y/N finally manages to muster up the energy to lift herself from the mattress and waddle to the bathroom, Harry breaks the silence.

“Hey,” his voice is calm and collected and there’s a smirk on his face.

“Hmm?” she answers as she cranes her neck and braces herself on the door frame of the master bathroom.

Her other hand is caressing her bump, a tick that she’d picked up over the months whenever she wasn’t doing anything important.

“Sit on m’ face in the morning?”

There’s that laugh again. The one that Harry loves and swears came straight from the angels above.

“With pleasure,” she winks as the door closes behind her.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles #dad!harry #dad!harry styles x reader #dad!harry x pregnant!reader #harry styles x pregnant!reader

[stupidfatpenguin]

“Do you think it’ll work?”

Luke mulls over the question and watches Grogu by the pond where he skilfully stalks an unsuspecting amphibian, only occasionally halting his pursuit to look to where his father and Luke have escaped the heat in the temple shade, observing them with a hunter’s surveying eyes before returning to his prey.

Not for the first time Luke wonders just what kind of predator this species must be, if they have any natural enemies, and if all are so in tune with the Force as Grogu is and Yoda had been.

“It might.”

Din sighs when he hears the answer, even though Luke had given it with optimism. There is a sort of lingering desperation to him lately that he works hard to conceal, but which only serves to further endear him to Luke, like so many things about him do. But even the Jedi is starting to feel his patience wearing thin.

Grogu’s impression that the marks Din left on him in private moments were hurting Luke had been amusing initially, albeit a little embarrassing. He had thought the youngling’s protective impulse sweet, a reflection of his father’s own near self-sacrificing tendencies, but even Luke had failed to predict the extent of which they would be acted on.

follow up to ‘a healing touch’ read more below the cut, or read the rest on ao3 

At first, it was like they had made a game of it: Din’s arsenal of experience and skills as a hunter pitted against Grogu’s stubbornness and control of the Force.

Grogu had quickly realised that the “harm” that befell him happened in the night-time when he could not watch them for any signs of their presumed fighting. Luke had laughed himself stupid when Din had told him about the night in the corridor, when his son had caught him on his way to Luke’s rooms and had consequently begun finding ways to sleep in them to ensure that his father wouldn’t lay hands on him, but the humour had begun to fade when Grogu’s insistence began testing his own restraint.

The other day, the tension built up from their days of unintended abstinence had snapped. They had retorted to hiding away in the hangar once Grogu was put down for a nap, finding each other in greedy moments stolen in Din’s ship and promises given with such fervour Luke could still feel it when he pressed the bruises on his hips that had lingered long after.

The marks had been left with more care, still red and vicious with the evidence of ardour and claim, but below the collar of the tunics and shirts Luke had begun wearing more rigidly—even on the days the heat and humidity was no less than choking.

Of course, even that effort had been in vain when Grogu, the very next day, had climbed Luke’s back to seek his attention, pulled the shirt just so and found the evidence of their rendezvous.

Grogu’s increased vigilance (and the aid of his abilities that he was gaining control over so rapidly Luke had begun to wonder if he drew some sort of motivation from his mislead scheme to “protect” him) had made it even harder to find any sort of respite.

It wasn't that he required the sex—the appeal of the Mandalorian he had invited to his bed went far beyond this after all—but it was, admittedly, nice. To feel wanted, and to feel desired the way he did when Din’s mouth and hands were on his skin, to feel so deeply and overwhelmingly loved the way he did when Din’s eyes stared into his in the aftermath, lax with devotion and bliss.

Now, this silly misunderstanding had made those moments scarce. Standing close was now a cause of scrutiny. A prolonged touch would be cause for distraction or interruption. They couldn’t even attempt to spar—Grogu was quick to pull Din away from him if he ever reached for a weapon. Neither he nor Din could tell how much longer this could go on for.

So he has to try. He will have to try and explain to Grogu that what is between his father and Luke is something good that he doesn’t need protecting from. Something that had over time become something strong and unrelenting, something so bright and infatuating that the only way to describe it with words would be… love.

He glances at Din, tripping nervously beside him, and feels his own love for this man swell in him then. “It might be best if you leave us alone for this. I have a feeling you will be too much of a distraction right now.”

Din looks like he wants to disagree, but his son meets his gaze then with a large, blue frog stuck in sharp teeth, and he thinks that Luke might be right.

“Alright,” he says to Luke. “I’ll be inside if you need me. I should get dinner started.”

He steps close to Luke, as if to kiss him goodbye as he would often do, but now he hesitates, nods instead and goes to do as he has said.

Luke watches him leave and feels an aching bitterness he hasn't really felt before at being denied such a simple thing, and vows then that he must find a way to end this silly misunderstanding—to free Din once more to the whims of his own wants that he had kept locked away so tightly under his beskar, until one day Luke had woken to lips on his shoulder and the helmet had stopped staying on when they were alone, the three of them… or even just the two of them.

He turns to his student and calls out.

“Grogu!”

The child turns to him at once like a magnet to its opposite pole and radiates an admiration and sense of belonging that never fails to make Luke feel like maybe he can be a teacher to this child in spite of all the ways he falls short.

“Come here! I want to ask you something.”

They sit down in the grass as if to meditate, but it is not the depths of the Force they’ll be exploring today.

Luke is suddenly uncertain where to start, wonders just how Grogu comprehends concepts such as family and love beyond his bond to Din… and that really is the key, isn’t it? As if a light clears away the cloudy darkness, it becomes obvious to him that this is one way to go about this.

“Grogu,” he begins, gaining the child’s unwavering attention as he reaches out to him, lets their thoughts and feelings mingle until a clear, unperturbed connection has formed between them.

Master, he senses the thought, laced with anticipation and excitement, but kept calm, as he had likely been taught on Coruscant. Grogu’s mind flashes to a memory that shows that this is indeed true, but before he can tell Luke more of this training Luke sends an impression of Din—of when Luke had first met the two, on the bridge of the Imperial light cruiser to which he had followed Grogu’s call.

“Show me.”

Grogu knows his meaning at once, and his presence fills with feelings and impression, something that had started small and uncertain but had grown and grown, a love so bright and pure and at the centre of it all is Din. The memories flitter by so quickly—some familiar, others are new to him—but in the mass of them is Grogu’s undeniable sentiment. Father. Clan. Safe.

Luke smiles, encouraging. “Yes. That feeling. Remember it well. It is the love that created your bond with him.”

Father. Warm, safe, love. Grogu radiates joy and content, and Luke reflects it, touched deeply by the love between the two, of all they have been through that had brought them together.

“Now,” Luke waits for Grogu to prepare, and then sends an impression of himself. “Show me our bond.”

What happens then is unexpected. It is almost overwhelming. The sense of belonging and gratitude and adoration and awe—and Luke is suddenly beginning to realise that Grogu’s depth of affection towards himself has grown far deeper than he had thought to anticipate.

Love? Grogu suddenly asks, and for a moment Luke is struck silent until it dawns on him that—yes, that is exactly what this is.

“Yes.” He breathes the word between them, but it rings loud and certain over their bond. “This, too… it is not so dissimilar to the way your father loves you.”

Grogu preens with this knowledge, is then a vast sea of impressions of moments between his father and himself, between Grogu and Luke, and they are all filled with such bubbling emotions of warm, safe, happy, love, love, love, that the Force itself seems to hum with them.

Luke stills a laugh that is ready to spill from his chest; he must reign this back onto the path he has set. Focus, little one.

I focus.

Luke marks his approval, and then heeds his own instructions.

“Now. Come search my feelings.”

He bids Grogu come into his own mind, and once he has Luke begins sharing his own impressions of Din up through their time together, careful to filter away any thoughts or feelings that he would not have his young student know, but the aching feelings he holds for Din remains, and his heart is light with them as he lets himself feel them, too, in their purest form.

Grogu, he finds, is focusing carefully, but there is something akin to confusion in him, even as the words in his thoughts appear clear and bright.

Master… love?

“That’s right,” Luke encourages, focusing on the feeling of relief that washes over him whenever Din’s ship enters the atmosphere, chasing away a lingering loneliness he sometimes still struggles to let go of. “What is between your father and I—it is a little different. But this, too, is love.”

The inevitable impression of himself, covered in bruises that seem far larger and more concerning than they do in actuality, flows through their bond.

Father hurt Master Luke.

Luke wonders for a long moment how to possibly go about this.

“He doesn't hurt me,” he says, truthfully. “It’s… it’s how he shows he loves me.”

Confusion continues to flitter through their connection, and Luke decides suddenly what might convey this the best.

He sends an impression of Din leaving. Of his ship breaking the atmosphere and of Grogu watching with his Mudhorn pendant grasped between his hands. Then, he shows an impression of himself, fingers touching the mark on his neck, and sends a pulse of longing and waiting through the bond.

So that I can remember him when he is not here.

The confusion gives way to a a slow dawning of understanding.

Luke wonders at his own resourcefulness.

Grogu retreats fully from his mind, and Luke lets him go, feels like something has changed in him. They sit bathing in the afternoon light, a serene sort of calm between them.

Grogu moves first, gets up and walks slowly over to Luke, who pulls him into his lap when he reaches for him.

“Do you see it now, Grogu?”

The child coos and emits nothing but affirmation, and he begins pulling on the sleeve of Luke’s left arm. Luke humours him, lets him touch and study the skin there… and is too late to stop him when he bites down on his arm with a chomp.

-

tl;dr: Luke explains love and relationships to Grogu. He succeeds--in a way.

#fic: a healing touch #dinluke #i'm sorry i can't stop #Grogu is too funny #I really just wrote 1.9k words to get to the punchline of this joke #deep sigh #salty writes

[hadit93]

https://frater370.blogspot.com/2021/05/magical-approach-to-plant-materia.html

This is a short piece on how I go about selecting, procuring, and using plant materia in my own magic. I have posted it on my other blog as it may be easier to read. I will also post it below.

Magical Approach to Plant Materia.

Overview.

My approach to plants has been influenced by several sources, some of which I have listed at the end, however it is far simpler and less involved. This has its costs as well as its benefits. I know what works for me, I know what mythos I like to clothe my magick in, and I know what is personally important to me as well as what is not. Therefore, it may seem like my approach is at odds with that of other people, and it is, but it is not at odds with myself! Try my methods out alongside the methods of others, experiment, and see what works for you.

Dried or Fresh?

One of the questions that people usually ask first is whether dried ingredients- the ones you usually buy from metaphysical stores- are okay to use in magick. Yes, they are. But fresh is always best. The same is true in cooking as well as magick. Fresh herbs, especially those picked from nature by the magical worker, contain more spirit within them, more essence. They are also more potent in their latent power. Notice I say latent, in magick the magician can awake the same power in dried herbs and consecrate it to work in alignment with their Will. But fresh herbs will have more of this latent power in abundance.

Sometimes certain plant materia is rare, expensive, or simply cannot be found within your climate. In this case, I recommend first seeing if there could be a local alternative, and if not, buying dried from a reputable seller. Of course if one is making incense from plant materia dried is naturally better to begin with.

Preparation Before Going Out Into The Fields.

Before going out collecting herbs I like to align my Will with the universal Will and local spirits. So first I wash my hands and face. Then I will go to my altar and pray and state my intention out loud. For example, “I wish to venture out and gather herbs for the sacred work of x” I normally have an idea of what plants. I want, and so I list those too, however, sometimes nature surprises with you with great additional plants or alternatives. I then petition the spirits of the local area and offer some fresh water and incense that they may help me favourably.

I then pack my things. This includes:

A small sharp knife which is capable of cutting plants and small pieces of wood cleanly and with one stroke.

A small silk lined bag. (I bought some silk and stitched it to the inside of a small bag)

A bottle of fresh spring water.

A smartphone which has a map for safety as well as an internet connection which allows for identification of plants.

Collecting Plant Materia From The Fields.

Most of the time I see a plant I know and want to work with. Other times I find I am drawn to plants as though they are calling me. In this case, I get out my smartphone and get to work identifying the plant. I check if its poisonous and superficially check if it is suitable for my working. If it isn’t but seems useful for another working I make a note of its location and leave it for now. I will detail how I decide what plants are used for later.

Once we come to a plant I want to pick I kneel by it. I place my hand upon it or just over it and I communicate with intent, energy, and words what I want to do. That is, I ask its permission to be an ally in my work. I then wait for a response. This tends to be an inner feeling of rightness or wrongness, both of these feelings are unmistakeable. Other times the plant seemingly responds a certain way to the wind which causes these feelings to arise. It is truly a matter of intuition and cannot be taught human to human.

If an agreement is reached I offer the plant spirit water and then cut only what I need from the plant and place it in my silk bag. Do not let it touch the Earth as the spiritual powers may become grounded. I recommend you research beforehand how to cut from different types of plants for the least harm. I then take my finger, dab it in the spring water and rub the wound of the plant channeling an intent to heal. Once again offer a little water to the plant, and thank it for its sacrifice.

If an agreement is not reached, which does happen from time to time, give your thanks and offer a little water anyway. Either move to a different plant of the same species nearby, or search for an alternative altogether. It may be that despite a book stating one herb as brilliant for this use, the local nature spirits may have a better alternative for the working at hand. Either way, we must respect the plants decision.

Obviously, if you are collecting dried herbs you are simply purchasing them from a reputable vendor. Whilst we cannot offer the plant water and some spiritual power may have been lost due to contact to the ground, or because it is ‘less fresh’ we can still awaken the latent power within them. I hold the dried herbs in my hand and reach out to the parent plant or plants. I then give thanks and blow into the herbs with my own life force. This in turn awakens the life force within.

Consecration.

Prior to magical work I take the herbs and wash them under the tap and place them in jars. Each plant in their own. I then gather materials for my ritual. There are many ways you can use plants in magic. You can create magical incenses, tinctures, teas, charm bags, mojo bags, and magical oils. The idea behind most of these methods is that the herbs are consecrated to a purpose and work alongside other herbs and materials to form a sort of spiritual being, an ally to do the work.

If in a charm or mojo bag the spirit will have to be fed with energy or condition oils. The rule appears to be that if you make a charm out of degradable materials, i.e., fresh herbs that rot and dried herbs that lose potency over time you need to continue feeding so that the spirit still has strength. In oils and tinctures this is not usually an issue as the oil or alcohol preserves the plant matter. So regular feeding is not required. Incense is also not required to be fed as the fire releases the spirit essence when it is burned.

There are different traditions as to the number of herbs used, the time of feeding, the method of feeding. As a rule of thumb- if it is a short-term goal once a week is fine. If it is a long-term goal for a slow manifestation process or ongoing process once a week for the first month and then once a month thereafter, or whenever it feels it needs it.

Occasionally, I set up a ritual magic setting, other times I do not. It depends on my mood and what exactly I am doing. For example, if the Herbs I have are for something to do with love I will sometimes perform the ritual of the Hexagram of Venus and channel that energy along with my own into the plant. This also allows you to call upon the energies of Venus to maintain the charge of the consecrated item. However, this is not necessary, your energy, Will and the spirits of the plants are sufficient. It is a good boost to have though if say you are using lots of dried materials. Another good idea is to consecrate a crystal or talisman (something more durable requiring less feeding) with the intent of maintaining the charge of the charm bag etc.

But in general, I take each individual plant and whisper my intent into it. Breathing my energy into it and drawing out the energy within it. I then add it to whatever it is I am creating. I do this with each one, spending some time with each herb. Sometimes if I have an appropriate incense I smoke the herbs over the incense. Once the product is constructed I whisper once more and breathe three times. I then seal it. This is true of all techniques I use except mojo bags which have a different procedure, albeit similar. But not wanting to get into the realms of cultural appropriation and being cancelled by children who have no concept of magical history or practice I shall not state the method here.

I normally feed with energy infused with breath, however, smoking through pertinent incense is also satisfactory. I normally use plant magic these days in oils and tinctures and use them to energise other things such as talismans as well as my own etheric body.

If a product has become spiritually inert I deconstruct it and bury the plant materials giving thanks and permission to depart. I then leave another offering of water and cover with Earth. It can be nice to bury the plant material near where you picked it and give thanks to the parent plant and local spirits. However, this is not always practical and your own back garden is absolutely fine! Unless it is a curse in which case away from the home, perhaps in a cemetery or church is better.

This is my own simple method. I have done and sometimes still do more involved rituals. But I don’t want to share them here. They are quite personal and in some cases are family traditions. I believe I have covered the essence of plant magic in a simple way which can be embellished with personal flair.

How I select plants.

I tend to start with the basics, what does it look like? What colours does it have? What are these colours associated with? I then branch out into folklore and myths surrounding the plants- what sorts of things did the stories have about the plants. What have they been traditionally used for in medicine? This allows you to start forming a tradition around the plant, a correspondence around the plant within which you can plug your magical intention. For example, we know Lavender is purple, purple is Yesod- the moon. Lavender has been used medicinally to calm and induce sleep. Therefore, lavender is a potent herb to include in a recipe for dream work. It is that sort of thinking.

Luckily, many people have already done this thinking for you. Which is the purpose of the resources list below. Like I say sometimes plants will call out to you, it is ultimately up to you to find out how they can work for you.

EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that uprooting wild plants is illegal and environmentally irresponsible in the U.K. I thought I made it clear but if not- never take the whole plant, only what you need. Always research how to take from a plant without harming it. An app is okay for identification on the go but always strive to have knowledge of the local species first. Sometimes I assume I have made things clear when I have not.

Resources.

Ars Philtron by Daniel Schulke.

Viradium Umbris by Daniel Schulke.

Thirteen Pathways of Occult Herbalism by Daniel Schulke.

Hoodoo Herb and Root Magic by Cat Yronwode.

Sticks, Stones, Roots, and Bones by Stephanie Rose-Bird.

The Witching Herbs by Harold Roth.

Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham.

#magick #witchcraft #occult #plantsmateria #sorcery

[wherethewordsare]

Because you said it so wonderfully and i crave more, please my love give me more of this 🥺

”Jaskier saying that people weren't made to be alone and Geralt shooting back something about barely being human anymore”

Pretty please

As always, thanks @kuripon for the beta reading and edits TT~TT

You Gently Gift it to Me: Geralt hated Jaskier. That was to say he hated how easily Jaskier reached for him, how he did not flinch away when Geralt grew close to him or how casually he would touch Geralt’s shoulder, his arm, even his hand. It made Geralt recoil into himself, his skin growing tight and hot where Jaskier’s hands landed, felt even through the layers of armor. 

But most of all, Geralt hated how much he craved every single one of those things and how desperately he wanted to push into every touch like it was a lifeline to a drowning man. 

He was grateful that Jaskier seemed to understand when the touch was simply too much, never rolling over in the dark to press against Geralt and retreating if Geralt scowled. Though he always scowled, he just assumed there was something particular Jaskier had picked up on. And he never pushed, he never took or invaded beyond that. 

Part of Geralt wished he would, wished that Jaskier could hear the way his blood screamed under his skin while they sat around the fire and the world seemed too small and too large until Jaskier would press his shoulder easily into Geralt’s and the tension in his body would melt ever so slowly. 

The worst of it though was the too tender look in Jaskier’s eyes when Geralt returned from a hunt, battered and bleeding, as if Jaskier himself had been inflicted with the wounds. Geralt wouldn’t let him tend to the wounds, no matter how he hovered or how he fussed or how much he needed those same gentle hands on the parts of him that felt like were breaking into pieces. 

This time had been a particularly spectacular fuck up on his part. The cockatrice had a mate apparently and they were smart enough to flank him. He had taken down one while the other sank it’s razor sharp claws into his shoulder and arm. He could barely move it after that but he, by some miracle, still managed to slay the other beast. 

Looking down he knew that it was too much blood dripping out of his armor. He had survived worse, but this wasn’t good. Stitching it up was going to be another matter altogether. 

When he finally stumbled back into camp, it had taken Jaskier exactly three seconds before realizing what was happening and jumping up to rush the witcher. 

“Sit down, darling, come on, right there…” He was nearly frantic, his eyes never settling on one particular part of Geralt as he took in the damage. Geralt could only sit and let the bard ramble at him. 

Then he couldn’t. Jaskier was on his knees between Geralt’s thighs, leaning in, deft fingers undoing the buckles of his armor with a kind of familiarity Geralt couldn’t begin to understand. The aching tiredness in his bones warred with his need to escape those bright blue eyes that seemed to pin him in place. 

Instead of pulling away, mostly because he could barely move, Geralt schooled his face into the look that usually made Jaskier retreat. The air smelled of fear and blood and salt. When those same eyes met his, they were shining wet and Jaskier was blinking rapidly. 

“No, Geralt. Not this time. If I don’t help, you’ll bleed out,” Jaskier said firmly. Geralt’s armor fell away, catching only for a moment against the bulk of his good shoulder and then those hands were on him, tugging away the remains of his ruined shirt. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled in warning. Only when fingers, steady and warm, grazed against his sides did he pull away, remembering himself. Remembering the things he was allowed. Gentleness had never been on that list. He simply couldn’t afford it. 

“No, you’ll never reach this one where it is. Just let me help you,” his voice broke and that smell of salt seemed to flood against Geralt’s tongue, hot and bitter and bright. 

Still he flinched away, his hand coming up to protect his wound from Jaskier’s prying eyes and prying fingers. He looked away from where Jaskier hovered too close, too warm, and too kind. He felt the tension of it behind his eyes, in his fingertips; the need to reach out and hold screaming in his sore muscles and torn skin. 

“I’ve done this alone plenty of times, Jaskier. This time isn’t any different,” he said flatly, tugging the small medical kit of theirs from the bard’s hands. “I don’t need you to do it.” It felt like a lie, one that hollowed him out and rang in his chest. He needed. 

Jaskier didn’t move from where he sat, his head tilting to catch Geralt’s eyes. “People weren’t made to be alone, Geralt,” he whispered. Slowly, hesitantly, his hands covered Geralt’s on the kit, not pulling it back but waiting. “You don’t have to be alone. When was the last time you let someone care for you?” 

He felt sick and his head swam. He knew his hands would never be steady enough to hold the needle and thread, but still he could not relent so easily. 

“I’m not a person,” he snarled, pulling so far back he nearly tipped off of the log completely. “I’m a mutant, Jaskier. I haven’t been a human longer than you’ve been alive.” He tried to roll his shoulders but winced as more blood seeped from the gashes left there. 

“That’s a load of shit, Geralt of Rivia, and I don’t care what your ridiculous pride says.” Jaskier’s voice shook but his hands were still steady, not pulling away for once. It was too easy to give in and hand over the pack.

Geralt turned his face away as he relented, unable to watch as those same hands slowly cleaned his wounds, dosed him with potion and poultice and sewed his tattered body back together. He bit down on his inner cheek to stop the stifle the small noises that seemed to bubble up in his throat every time Jaskier brushed away the gore or carefully pressed into his skin. 

While he sewed, his free hand rested on Geralt’s shoulder blade, more as a way to soothe than to move the process along. Geralt could hear him humming softly, a tune that was all at once familiar and unknown to him, as though he had heard it dozens of times in a dream.

He wanted to ask about it. He wanted to lean into the warmth of Jaskier’s body and rest while his body healed. 

He wanted to pull away and retreat into the dense woods around them and not come out again until he had had a chance to figure a way to discourage the bard from following him. It only took a moment to consider turning around on the path and not seeing Jaskier there for that thought to be banished nearly instantly. 

For his part, Jaskier did not flinch away when growled at, did not stammer or falter when Geralt winced and tensed. All he did was continue his litany of soft words and half remembered melodies while his hands never once left Geralt for a moment. 

When he was finished, he wiped Geralt’s skin again with what could pass as a reasonably clean cloth before helping him, albeit unnecessarily, to his bedroll. He let himself be maneuvered carefully into the furs, a waterskin pressed into his hand with a gentle nudge to drink. It dawned on him with frightening clarity that Jaskier wanted to do this for him. His chest ached with the want of it. 

“When was the last time you let someone care for you?” He had asked with that look in his eyes that made Geralt feel too seen, too exposed. He tried to think of an answer that didn’t make him sound pathetic and alone in this world but that answer simply didn’t exist. No one cared for witchers, no one had to. They were built to exist without the need of compassion. 

No one except Jaskier, who now pulled his own bedroll close to his but did not lay down. Instead sat up, his hand hovering unsure. Geralt swallowed, his throat tight. Slowly, he lifted his good hand and wrapped his fingers around Jaskier’s wrist, pulling it towards his head. For a moment he let it hover there, unsure, until Jaskier leaned down slightly.

“Geralt, I won’t…” He licked his lips and took a shaky breath. “Only if you want, but know I’m not going to tell you no and I would never-”

“I know.” It sounded harsh even in his own ears so he tried again. “I know and I want you to.” Geralt closed his eyes as he brought Jaskier’s hand down the rest of the way. 

Slender fingers slid into his hair and blunt nails dragged gently across his scalp making his whole body tingle. It felt like heaven and he groaned as everything else faded away. 

Above him Jaskier began to hum softly again, that tune he still couldn’t place. He cracked an eye open and turned slightly, making Jaskier’s fingers drag over his forehead and down to his cheek where he let them rest lightly. 

“That’s not one of your usual songs,” Geralt murmured. He felt nearly boneless under the attention of those fingers. For a moment he wanted to drag the bard down into the bedroll to feel the weight of him against his chest but that would be asking for too much. 

“I didn’t realize I was humming it. It’s not mine, you’re right,” Jaskier smiled, humming through a few more bars. “My gran used to sing it to me and my sisters. I sometimes hum it when you’re tossing and turning.” In the dying firelight, his cheeks flushed. “I won’t anymore if you don’t-”

“No, please,” Geralt turned again, pressing his cheek into Jaskier’s palm. “Please. I-” he huffed. “It’s nice.” He felt his insides quake as Jaskier shifted ever so closer, his hand sliding easily back into Geralt’s hair. 

He made no move to press in after that and Geralt was immensely grateful and also deeply disappointed. 

He could see himself easily trusting those hands that had pulled him back together, even when they couldn’t see the wounds they darned back together. As he drifted into sleep, Geralt thought that maybe in the morning, he’d like to still feel what it was like to be cared for.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #touch starved geralt #jaskier #geralt whump #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #angst #hopeful ending #jay writes #jay answers #prompt fill for the loveliest of beans #cw: blood #cw: injury

[psychicdreamfriendoperator]

Can I get some headcanons with Free dating someone? I am WEAK

I might have rambled a bit on this one haha, feel free to resend the ask if you wanted something else!

— Psychic

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.

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Things to Note

the name should be an indicator, but Free enjoys his freedom— he’ll be resistant to anything that restricts it.

the Shishigumi comes first; even if Free is laidback, he's still part of the gang’s inner circle.

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Meeting Free

surprisingly enough, your relationship with Free did not begin as anything sexual.

It doesn't even begin as a friendship — it's difficult to describe a situation wherein you find a random lion in your house.

You think he was trying to rob you.

You fainted, of course.

When you awoke, you found yourself on the floor with a nasty ache in your back and a note nearby.

The words were scribbled hastily in print; “WILL VISIT AGAIN SOON”.

You filed a police report, but nothing came of it— other an officer’s promise that the station would keep an eye out for “any suspicious characters”.

The police station is blind, you concluded. Reason being, the lion returned exactly a week later.

Now, Free (as you’ve learnt is his name) just waltzes in and makes himself at home.

No matter how often you changed the locks or fortified the windows, Free found a way in.

It was almost like a game for the feline— you gave up on trying to keep him out.

Free had a nasty habit of not taking off his dirty ass shoes before he put his feet up on your white couch.

As your relationship progressed, he became more mindful of his behaviour— though, it took him a while to remember not to put his shoes all over your furniture.

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Gifts

you grew used to the lion visiting you randomly. Sometimes, Free did not visit you empty handed.

Free gave you an expensive phone— albeit one with a cracked screen, a watch that smelled like seawater and a couch with red polka-dots to replace the one he dirtied with the grime at the bottom of his shoe.

It took you ten minutes of cleaning your “brand-new” sofa to realise that the red spots were not part of the original design.

It was definitely best not to ask Free where exactly he sourced his gifts from.

You eventually began to feel a bit poorly about receiving things from him all the time.

The first time you presented Free with a gift, he shut down.

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During his visits, Free liked to make use of your bathroom. He always set his suit, tie and shoes one side while he cleaned himself (and used up all your hot water in the process).

It was inevitable that you would notice the wrinkles, and the scuff marks.

You couldn't have something so unkempt in your house. It wasn't an issue for you to do a quick spot of ironing.

Even the shoes could be made presentable— you just had to wipe them off and apply a bit of black polish.

When Free realised what you had done, he seemed to be speechless. Just when you expected to hear a “Thank you Y/N”, God quickly brought you back to reality.

“You're going to do this sort of thing from now on?” He held the suit jacket up by its sleeves, as if searching for the wrinkles he knew were no longer present.

You shrugged. “If you keep your shoes off my couch, then sure,”

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.

You thought that your gift would encourage him to visit more often, but for a whole month, Free did not visit you.

You wondered if the police had finally caught the bastard— but, after a month, he returned as if nothing had ever happened.

After that, he no longer showered at your place.

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Free’s Thoughts & Motivations

this ‘relationship’ was the longest one Free had ever been in.

The lion who bathed in the revelry of the Black Market now looked forward not just to bloodshed, but to movie marathons and hearing you bitch about your neighbours.

The fear of this casualty metamorphosing into something serious . . . something permanent, compelled Free to leave you alone for a while to collect his thoughts.

He only visited you because your home was a convenient place to rest before returning to the Mansion.

(The night you met him, he'd broken in to avoid a police patrol in the area.)

The presents were bribes to keep you complacent.

(Though . . . maybe he felt a bit bad about ruining your sofa.)

As much as your gesture touched him, Free wanted nothing in return.

Your gift was proof that you held some kind of affection for him.

Free returned to the Mansion feeling quite warm inside that day, but he didn't dare shower at your place again.

The affection that you held for him, no matter how miniscule, was addictive.

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Dating

The others didn't pay much attention to it when Free casually mentioned that he had a “friend" outside of the Black Market.

The inner circle grew suspicious when he refused to elaborate further.

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“It's time that we address the elephant in the room.” Dolph gave a pointed look at the only empty chair in the room.

Free’s chair.

The others around the table nodded once in solemn agreement. Then, someone raised their hand.

Dolph’s expression seemed to soften the smallest amount. “Yes, Agata?”

“Who’s going to kill him if we find out he’s planning to leave the gang? I would volunteer but my shoulder's still healing from that last gang war—”

Before the scar-faced lion could reply, Ibuki interjected. “This is Free we are discussing— he would not betray the Shishigumi in such a manner. There's no need to discuss things like that,”

He tapped a claw against the table, “In any case, we will get to the bottom of this. Tonight.”

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A Cause For Concern

you thought that you were being paranoid.

You hoped that you weren't really being followed.

There was no mistaking it.

Everywhere you went, everytime you went outside, it was there.

A singular black car.

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“Eh? What are you panicking about?” You heard Free's voice, but you didn't respond. You tossed your car keys, and they landed on the kitchen table.

You sped over to the windows. With one, great motion, you drew them, only stopping when the entire house was draped in darkness.

“There’s this black car . . . It’s been tailing me all weekend,” Though your voice was calm, your hands were shaking as you made your way back to the couch.

Free grew thoughtful, but only for the briefest of moments. He waved dismissively, and lapped one leg over the other, pulling you onto his lap with his free arm.

“Don’t worry about it. Just the Shishigumi being the Shishigumi. They won't break in or anything,”

Silence hung in the air only for half a minute, before Free added, “Probably won't, anyways,”

But, you are more focused on the s-word, rather than on what they may or may not do to your home.

“Shishigumi . . .?” The word was foreign on your tongue, but it was not entirely unfamiliar.

You didn't move off of his lap, but you gently pried off the hands that held your waist in place.

If you didn't know better, you would have sworn that Free looked just a bit . . . hurt by your actions. Still, he got the message and his hands remained at either side of himself.

You were grateful for that much.

“I didn't stutter,” The lion tsked. His hand slid over his mane. He was antsy about something, thag much you knew.

When Free next spoke, his voice was low. His chin rest atop your head, and you could easily feel the calming vibration of his throat.

“It doesn't bother you, right?”

A sigh escaped your lips. You pinched your nose. You internally debated strangling him for daring to ask something with such an obvious answer.

Of course you would mind! You felt as if you had always known Free was part of some illegal operation— but, it had never crossed your mind to assume the lion was in an actual gang!

No . . . that was a lie.

The thought had crossed your mind. You willed the thought to go away everytime it reared its ugly head.

“No, I don't mind, Free. I don't mind at all.”

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Going Steady

Free talked things out with his colleagues— that's what he told you, at least.

The ominous black vehicle that stalked your every move disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

Life went back to normal, though, the visitor's list expanded by eight more lions.

Ibuki and Dolph were infrequent visitors— if they stopped by, then you knew it was on important business.

Agata often fetched your groceries, so you saw him often.

Miguel, Dope and Jinma visited infrequently, but were not as rare to see as Ibuki and Dolph.

Hino, like Agata, was a regular. He mostly crashed in your guest room— apparently, it was easier to fall asleep at your place.

Once every few months, Sabu would deliver your groceries instead of Agata. He seemed nice enough, but you found him to be intimidating as hell.

For better or for worse, Free begun spending nights at your house.

It would be wrong to call him a freeloader, though.

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.

“There's ten grand in here . . .” You murmured to yourself. You turned the envelope over in your hands. Your name was written on the side, in Free's chickenscratch penmanship.

But, there was also a note; “10K. RENT MONEY FOR Y/N.”

#beastars free #beastars x reader #beastarsxreader #beastars headcanons #beastars dolph mention #beastars agata mention #beastars ibuki mention #beastars jinma mention #beastars dope mention #beastars miguel mention #beastars sabu mention #beastars hino mention #ask #beastars #beastars imagines

[lord-explosion-baku]

Tempting Tempest (Shark!Bakugou)

Shark!Bakugou x mer!reader

warnings: yellow sour fruit, dubcon, blood, violence, strange as fuck words I’d only use while writing monster smut idfk, silly ending

A/N: I know I said I wasn’t gonna force this one out, but sometimes you gotta. This was kinda fun to write, but idk how sexy it is to be QUITE honest. The next time I write mermaid p*rn outside of tempting tempest, it’s definitely gotta be with at least one human, ama. also the ending is a little wacky, pero it made me smile so like maybe it’ll make you smile too. ha...? okiee here’s the thing...vhjdsvhjd

Violent fury compelled you to tighten your hold on your weapon. Like a spear, you flew through the water, firing towards the shark. Too bad for you, he had fast reflexes and as soon as you were close enough, he whipped his tail around and slapped you in the face.

Colliding with the sand bed and a large kelp-covered rock, you struggled to right yourself, when the merman gripped onto your waist. He pulled himself up so his head was leveled with yours. He bared his teeth at you and snapped at your neck. You hissed and swiped your knife at him, missing his chest and cutting into his side. He growled when blue blood spilled out into the water, swirling around the two of you as you wrestled for dominance.

The merman slammed your wrist into the edge of the rock next to you, forcing you to relinquish your dagger. Sharp fingers curled around your neck, quickly stopping your waterways. You dug your nails into his toned arms so fiercely that even more blood flooded around you. Despite the obvious pain you inflicted on him, the merman gave you a sharp, threatening sneer.

“Looks like you do have more fight in you after all.” He teased, tightening his hold. He licked his lips and brought his free hand to your mouth. “Should say I’m grateful that you’re not gonna make this boring.”

Figuring that it was no use clawing at your opponent, you threw your hands down on the sand bed, searching for your lost weapon. Thinking that you were going to throw sand in his face again, the shark let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, quickly pinning it to your side.

“Not gonna let that happen again, little guppy,” he grumbled. The hand at your mouth squeezed your cheeks together as his hungry, crimson glower bore down on you. “You’re gonna have to learn some new tricks fast.”

You bit down on his narrowed webspace between his pointer finger and thumb, making him jolt back. That offered you enough slack to quickly wiggle out from underneath him, but not enough time to swim away.

Rounding you, the shark took hold of the flimsy part of your tail, sending an excited shock up to your neck. You whined and flipped your tail at him, attempting to hit his face, but he only laughed as he dodged the attack.

“That was cute.” He mocked as he approached you again, ushering you against the giant rock. “That little cry, I mean...think you can do it again for me? Huh, guppy?”

You hissed at him, the fins on the side of your head flaring in an attempt to make you look more threatening. He pushed you back against the wall, your skin grating against the rugged edge of the flat. You winced while he growled, deep and low, baring his sharp, ivory teeth. You couldn’t help but flinch, your fins falling back with a huff. At this, he chuckled, closing the gap between the two of you, his shark’s tail triumphantly swishing from left to right.

“Not so tough now, are yah?” Your body trembled as he grazed his lips against your neck, slowly bringing them up to your ear. “All bark and no bite.”

The purring came back—that deep, mesmerizing rumble from his chest. You hated how easily it got to you—how it made your muscles relax and your mind fuzzy. You scowled at his chest, too afraid that if you looked him in those beautiful, ruby eyes, you’d be lost to him again

The shark put both of his arms against the rock, caging you in with him as your prison bars. “Whatsamatter?” He asked. “You some kinda mute or are you just being a bitch?”

“Oh, bite me!”

“Is that a command or a request?” He gave you his insolent shark-grin as he leaned closer. “‘Cause I will,” he said in a teasing tone, but you knew it was a promise. The heat of his tongue reached the sensitive part of your ear, licking it for just as long as it took for goosebumps to erupt across your arms. He purred, “even if you don’t ask nicely.”

“I’m not asking you for anything except for you to leave me alone!” You barked out, albeit weakly. His chest rumbles were echoing inside your head, lulling you into a trancelike state you didn’t want to fall into.

“Since when?” He inquired impudently. His hands fell down near your hips.

You gestured pointedly behind him, indicating the updraft of sand and blood whirling in the space the two of you previously occupied. He glanced back only for a moment, not willing to take his eyes off of you for a second too long. He smirked, finally closing his hands on the part of your body where your torso met your fluke. They were rough, calloused from experience—hunter’s hands. You fought off impending thoughts of having those hands graze every inch of your body.

“Thought that was just foreplay.” His whisper was husky with provocation as his thumbs circled your hip bones. He took the hand you were using to point at the aftermath of your fight with into his. “It’d be no fun without any chase.” He lightly bit down on the carpal side of your palm, his dangerous eyes daring you to react. You merely shuddered against him, an act he seemed to enjoy.

“Foreplay?!” You squawked, bemused. You tore your hand away from his lips and quickly dug your fingers into his side, right below the place you’d cut him. It was healing fast, but some sapphire oozed out, nonetheless. “I cut you!”

He laughed, making his abdomen tighten underneath your touch. You inhaled sharply, and pressed your palm into him, enjoying the feel of his tight stomach. Gods damn you, he was hot.

“What’s one more scar?” He took your hand and moved it up his chest, satisfied to know you liked the feel of him. His skin riveted underneath your fingertips as he drew you over his various markings from previous fights. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty more where that came from—at least, if you’re the kinda mate I think you’ll be.”

“I don’t even know you,” you said, though that was a weak riposte. It wasn’t like you were around long enough for any merman to bring you pearl bracelets and hidden treasures just to have you fall into their embrace. Though, if you had, you wouldn’t be dealing with a shark right now.

“Katsuki,” he said smugly. “Figure you should know the name you’re gonna be moaning for the rest of your life.”

“As if.”

“And you are?” Katsuki completely ignored your retort. “Honestly didn’t think that ‘Guppy’ was all that fitting for a cute, little mermaid like you, but if that’s what you prefer-“

You scowled, ignoring the way your heart stuttered when he called you cute. His lips tilted sideways.

“Nah, you’re too high and mighty for guppy, aren’t you?” He continued, wedging himself closer to you. You felt cool gusts of water blowing against your shoulder and down your back as he drew nearer, his low purring reverberating down your tail. His lips were against your neck as he suggested, “right, princess?” You shuddered against him again as he kissed the sensitive spot on the skin below your gills. “Oh you like that, huh-“ his voice dropped an octave-“princess.”

Despite yourself, you groaned, turning your head so he could angle himself better, suckling on your tender flesh. You slanted your hips into him, hands moving up his strong, muscular back, to his neck, weaving through the surprisingly soft, ash-blonde hair. You tugged, and his growls mixed in with the rumbling only grew louder as he continued to kiss you.

Something thick and heavy pressed against your belly and through foggy eyes, you saw two massive erections, each with jelly-like fluid seeping out from the tips. Your mouth fell open on a moan as you imagined either of the two—if not both—entering you, all previous resignation sinking into the sand beneath you.

Your free hand trickled down his abdomen, loving the way he twitched at your soft caresses. You touched the tip of one of his dicks, and he grunted, a bit of white spurting into your palm. Enjoying his reaction, you rubbed your hand up and down his shaft, squeezing his base as he wrapped an arm around your back.

“Fuck.” He rasped, rutting into your hand. “Touch my cock like that and I’m not gonna be able to control myself.”

“You’re controlling yourself?” You mocked uneasily, tail slapping against the rock.

His nostrils flared. “More than you know.” The hand behind you moved down to your backside. He drew circular motions in the thickest part of your tail behind you, squeezing your flesh, making your fluke shake with anticipation.

“Tell me to fuckin’ stop,” he murmured noncommittally, pressing his cocks harder against your tail. With both hands now on your tail, he moved one over to the puffed out slit below the middle of your hips. He dipped a finger into you, testing out the undoubtedly viscous truth of your velvety walls. He moaned, loving the feel of you, loving the way you whimpered as he touched you. You watched as his pupils grew large, dark, and predatory, as he added a second finger to curl in and out of you. “Tell me you don’t want me to wreck your sweet little pussy right fuckin’ now, or I’m not gonna stop. Once I’m inside you, baby, there’ll be no turnin’ back—even if you beg me.” Something low and animalistic echoed out of his throat at the thought. “Though hearing you fuckin’ beg doesn’t sound half bad right now.”

“Katsuki-!” You started to mewl, but were cut off by his lips descended onto yours. It was a desperate kiss with strong, erratic tongue. He tasted you like you were meant for him—frantic, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Not knowing much about what to do with yourself, you squirmed against him, but he hardly seemed to care. If anything, your resistance only spurred him on.

Grasping onto your wrists, he pinned them against the rock behind you, using one hand to lock them into place. His now unoccupied hand cupped your face as he deepened the kiss. He traced his touch down to your neck, your collarbone, and found ménage at your breasts. He tweaked your pert nipples until they were hard and dark from arousal.

You felt him smirk against you when you finally touched your tongue to kiss—the first of the many triumphs he was going to hold over you. He swallowed your downing moans with fervor, biting down on your lower lip when you attempted to resist again. You cooed.

“Goddamn, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” Katsuki’s hands slid down your torso, lingering around your navel when you let out a little squeak. He chuckled. “So ready to be mated, too. You liked being chased around, didn’t you?”

“I-“ you breathed, your heart racing with both excitement and dread-“I don’t know!”

“So coy all of a sudden.” He snickered, grasping onto one of his clasper-pricks. He gave it a couple pumps, letting tendrils of the thick, white seed flutter around in the water. He pushed his member against your slit, letting your own slick membrane cover his thick cockhead, readying him to take you. “That’s okay,” he muttered, “looks like your cunt already knows for you.” He exhaled. “Say my name again—like you did the first time.”

“Kat...suki…?”

“Good girl,” he purred, pressing his cockhead into you, biting back a groan as he did so. Gods, it was unbearably huge. You shot him a panicked look, but that only made him all the more hungry.

“Wait-!” You wiggled, unprepared for the stretching you felt as he pushed into your tight hole. You cried out as he thickened, even while constricted by your walls, not even at his hilt yet. “Wait, please, I can’t—!”

“What’d I tell you, princess?” His voice grated against your soft cheeks, warmed from fluster. “Said there’d be no turnin’ back, didn’t I?” Even still, he pulled back, easing into you slower the second time, pressing in, inch by withering inch.

“God damn, you feel so good wrapped around my cock, hon,” he grumbled thickly, mesmerized. He pulled back once more, and when he pushed in again, he grooved his hips up, pushing even more of his girth deeper inside of you.

“Fuck!” You cried out, attempting to twist away from him. “It’s too much!! I can’t take it!”

“Relax,” he crooned gruffly, petting the erect bud above your slit. His touch sent waves of unfamiliar pleasure rippling through your body despite the terrible corruption battling inside you. You tightened around him and he groaned.

“My gods, baby. The hell are you doin’ to my cock?” Katsuki nestled into your neck, licking at your gills. “Such a good girl—so fuckin’ tight for me, huh? You’re gonna take me so well, I know it.”

Your body wavered—almost complying. Katsuki began rolling into you at a charitable pace, caressing your body, thumb encircling your clit, stimulating you just enough to keep your mind away from the pain. However, when he lessened his hold on your wrists, one of your hands broke free. You pushed against him, writhing and feral.

That was when he bit you.

Scorching affliction shot through your shoulders, down your spine. Your tail spasmed against his, your soft scales scraping against his fine exterior. You wailed and dug your nails into the thick muscles of his back, but that did nothing to tear Katsuki away from you. His grip on you was vice, impervious to any sort of protest. In fact, the more you tried to get away, the closer he pulled you, rutting into you faster, your bodies spinning through the ocean as he locked you into matehood.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more of the tremendous cutting feeling his shark’s teeth had your neck, the burn mitigated. He wasn’t holding back—if anything he was digging deeper into you—but as his mark melded into your skin, your body relaxed and you began to enjoy the pain. The feeling was purely hypnotic.

Katsuki began to push more of himself inside of you, and you easily accepted him. Your tail twisted around his as his hips slapped against yours. You arched your back, feeling your walls fluttering around, and you sighed his name on a moan. His arms curled around your waist, squeezing your sides, loving the feeling of your bodies, hot and needy, pressed together.  

“Mmmmfuck.” Katsuki pulled away just in time to see your crimson sanguine swaying out and away from his toothy grin. His pupils were so dark and wide that you could hardly see any of the red left in his iris. He was loving this.

“That’s it, baby.” He praised you, licking your cheek. He reached around his back to move your arms so they were around your neck. He groaned when he buried his girth to his hilt, making sure that you and him were as close possibly. “You’re all mine now, aren't cha? Mine-“He speared himself into you with each clipped word. “All. Fuckin’. Mine.”

“Fuck...yes, Katsuki,” you moaned, feeling a tight, aching coil inside of you as his large palms roved over your body. He squeezed your curves, kissed your chest, all the while sweltering inside of you.

“I knew I fuckin’ wanted you the moment I saw you hidin’ away from all those loser fishdicks bringing those mersluts trash just to get some tail,” he panted. “Thought you were sneaky, huh? Thought you wouldn’t be noticed?”

Katsuki pulled your hair, forcing you to face him head on. “Nah, couldn’t let a cutie like you slip away. Couldn’t let any other bottom feeder try to take you, neither. Fuck, you’re gonna be my perfect mate.”

Your inner walls quaked as he ran circles around your clit. “W-what is…?” You began to ask on a hard thrust that hit you perfectly. Your coil bursted and you convulsed around him, squealing as he rutted into you harder and faster. You clenched, again and again, as you pooled over and out with each of his world-ending thrusts, ecstasy completely enveloping your entire being.

“Oh, that feels fuckin’ great, princess,” he growled into your hair. “Good girl, cummin’ for me so soon like that. Fuck,” he rasped, “bite my neck before I fill you up, baby.” He leaned back a drew a finger ong his gills, indicating exactly where he wanted you. “Be my girl.”

You leaned up to drive your tongue up his neck. He shuddered at the contact, still fucking you relentlessly, dragging against your thickened walls. You bit down, hard enough to draw blood, to leave your mark, while you wove your fingers through his soft locks.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Is that what you want, princess? You wanna feel all of me?”

“Yes, gods yes!” You cried, bucking into him, needing more.

“Say my fuckin’ name, angelface. I wanna hear that sweet voice of yours.” He grunted, biting harshly into your shoulder, tail swishing, hips stuttering.

“Katsuki, please, give me your cum. I wanna feel you baby. Please! Please!

Katsuki came with a roar, lining your walls with his thick, hot cream. He buried his cock inside of you, emptying himself completely, still managing a few more languid thrusts as he planted sloppy kisses to your lips. He groaned into your mouth, loving the taste of your more than compliant tongue.

“Gods, that was-,” he exhaled, lifting himself off of you. He took your hand and guided you up with him, pushing your head into his chest. “-that was god damn hot. You’re gonna be a lot of fun, huh?”

You watched as he shook his two dicks, mesmerized by the residual pink and white swirl of the both of yours’ wash, before his members folded back into his pouch. You parted your lips on a question that didn’t come.

Katsuki snickered. “What?”

“Were they both-“ you festered down below his stomach-“inside of me?”

“Tch!  If I had both of my cocks buried in you, I promise you’d know it.” He rolled his eyes before kissing your forehead, suddenly all too familiar with you. “Why? That wasn’t enough for you? I can go again if you aren’t already full to the brim.”

“Oh no!” You glanced down, unsure. “I mean...I don’t know, I was just curious…”

Katsuki chuckled, tilting your chin up to bring you into a kiss. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it, princess.”

“You don’t know that,” you barked back, suddenly all too familiar with him. “I can handle fucking anything you throw at me!”

“Filthyy language, baby. You kiss octopi with that mouth?”

“Are you kidding me?!” You choked. “Hypocrite!”

“Man, you really are gonna be a lot of fun, aren’tcha? So easy to tease.”

“I was just curious!” You threw your hands up into the water and spun around, casting out a sardonic, “you’re incredible.”

Katsuki wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing you back against his chest. “I know.” He kissed the back of your sore neck. “If you really think you can handle it, I sure as hell don’t mind findin’ out.” He brought both of his hands down to your stomach. “After we get you something to eat. You weren’t gonna catch that marlin all by yourself, anyway.”

“I was before you interrupted me,” you bit out, leaning into his touch.

“You think so?” You felt him grin against your skin. “Alright then, let’s find you a marlin and make a deal: if you can take it down all by yourself, I’ll fuck you so good, you won’t be able to swim straight—with both of my cocks.”

“The hell kinda deal is that-?!”

“And if you need my help-“ he continued-“you’re gonna hafta suck them both off.”

You snorted. “In which of these scenarios do I profit?”

“The one where you get a nice meal, a hot mate, and a nice kelp bed to lay in.” He shrugged.

“Kelp bed?” You turned your head at him, looking hopeful.

“You have such nice lips, I can’t wait to know how they feel wrapped around my cock.”

“Kelp bed?” You reiterated, shrugging him off, trying to figure out which direction that marlin swam off to. “Which scenario has a kelp bed in it?”

“Both of them, idiot. I’m not gonna let any mate of mine sleepin’ on some fuckin’ coral or whatever the hell you’ve been doin’ while tryna hide. Do we have a deal or not?”

“Dunno-“ you swam out farther, trying to be nonchalant about your new pursuit-“do you have said bed?”

“You’re really not sneaky,” he snarked, already swimming after you.

“Maybe not,” you laughed as soon as your eyes narrowed in on a giant fish, “but I am fast.”

(Try again...?)

No more tag list, sorry.

#bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #bnha imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #mermaid!bakugou #mermay #tw dubcon #tw blood #bnha au #lemon #tempting tempest #merman x reader

[sailors-diary-for-elise]

Reaching Out

SEE! SOMETHING OTHER THAN SMUT. Also this one is old and a bit dusty, sooooo warnings are gonna be to the best of my ability. ALSO. THIS IS ANGST AND HAS TRIGGERING THEMES. PLEASE SCROLL PAST IF THE WARNINGS ARE DISTRESSING TO YOU. I wrote this during a really difficult day and was just word vomiting tbh. I am also gonna state that this is a work of fiction and I am in no way a therapist or anything, so if something here bothers you I’m sorry this is just something I wrote mostly for myself.

Warnings: god this is painful but here we go. Reader is depressed and has anxiety, mentions of self-inflicted injuries (she punches a mirror...repeatedly-), blood, panic attacks, it takes a few of the members to restrain the reader so if you’re uncomfortable with that please don’t read this, this is honestly just a hard read imo so please read with care. Also, the reader hates herself and just doesn’t really think highly of herself at all sooooo yeah-

It was the fourth time this month. The fourth argument that could’ve and should’ve ended differently.

You’d come out of your room to find San off at practice or on some work related schedule, spend the entire day outside trying to break a horrible cycle in your mind, just to disappear again once he returned home. It was frustrating you both and causing a serious strain in your relationship.

On San’s side, he couldn’t understand why it was that you would fight against him trying to get you to come out of your room when you spent the entire day alone. Then there was his frustration when you would complain about never seeing him and yet would disappear and avoid him when he was available. To San, it didn’t make any sense. All he wanted to do was spend time with you and support you, but it seemed as though you were determined to shut him out. He watches you storm off to your bedroom, running a hand through his hair as he tries to recall the last time he’d come back from a schedule and had a nice quiet evening that didn’t end in you both screaming at each other. When he can’t, San grabs his jacket and walks out of the apartment with his phone and keys, planning on spending the night at the dorms so that you can have some space to cool off. Once he gets in his car, he quickly dials Hongjoong’s number, pulling out of the parking garage of your complex and letting out all of his frustrations and concerns. 

As he drove, San had no way of knowing how much you hated yourself for what was happening between you both.

What San didn’t know was that your depression and anxiety had been spiraling lately due to the pressure that had been placed on your shoulders from not only your work but from being the girlfriend of an idol that had become so famous. He didn’t know that every day you were terrified that, now that his future was so bright and secure, he’d no longer want you. That he’d leave you just like so many before had done, and that he’d realize you were no longer something of use to him. And finally, how you criticize every minute of your life, finding ways that you are failing even when you’ve done nothing but your best. It came to the point that waking up from dreams was physically painful, because you could control a dream and guarantee the people you love never turned their backs on you. San didn’t, or rather, couldn’t know this. Because to know this would mean you would have to tell him. And no one should have to bear this burden but you, and there was always that small part of you that was terrified of having your feelings invalidated. 

Your whole life people have toyed with you, accepting your depression only when it was convenient to them and berating you once the curtains fall. Some even went as far as to weaponize your emotions, tearing you down in an argument with something that was the equivalent to the beating heart in your chest. Yes they would apologize and you would eventually forgive them because people make mistakes. But the thing about words is that once they leave someone’s mouth, the damage is already done and there’s no amount of remorse or forgiveness that can repair it. That’s where you are now.

You slam the door shut, leaving all the lights in your room turned off, your head pounding after the screaming match you and San had just finished (rather, you ran out on and barricaded the door so he wouldn’t see you cry) and your face stained with tears. Not a sound left you as you curled up on the bed, biting your fist as a punishment for your body's betrayal of emotions. All it would take was one minute of silence and the entire apartment would be able to hear how you were feeling. In all honesty, you didn’t want San to see you cry. Because in your mind, you didn’t deserve to cry. You were the one who picked a fight. You're the one who made unfair accusations, using his career and passions as weapons against him. You were the one that hurt him in the same ways that had been done to you, falsely claiming that it was to “beat him to it and strike first.” 

The front door slams shut, and you work quickly. You unbarricade the door and peek out, making sure no one is there. Dashing across the living space, you reach the spare bedroom and lock the door, not seeing the need for such extreme measures as earlier. You then sit with your back to the door, listening for the sign of San’s safe return from the store. Your butt has just about gone numb when this occurs, the front door shutting softly alerting you instantly. You rise from your position, albeit a little slowly due to your cramped muscles, and shuffle to the bed. A knock sounds, and a decision has to be made.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake. Can you come to bed? You and I both know that neither of us can sleep alone anymore.” San mumbles through the door. You hear shuffling, and you hold your breath thinking he might unlock the door. You’re not sure though, whether you’re holding your breath in hope or fear. But all you hear is a thud, indicating San sitting down. “Look, we don’t have to talk. You don’t even need to look at me, it just feels better for both of us if I’m holding you through the night, because at the end of the day, we still love each other, right?” 

San’s cheeks are marked with tear streaks, eyes red and puffy as he waits for any sign of confirmation from you. He loves you more than anything else, so much so that he’d give up everything for you, and needed to hear that you still loved him as well. He holds his breath, hands covering his face while he waits for you to show him a sign that you’re even listening. That you’re even there. 

You tip-toe over to the door, gently crouching down in front of it and rest your fingertips lightly on the wood, near where his shoulder is supposed to be. It’s cold and unyielding, but this is the bravest you’ll ever be. You hear a sigh on the other side, almost as if he can sense your presence.

“You know, you don’t have to keep it all in. From the first moment I saw you, I knew that there was so much going on in your life that it’d take time to get you to trust me. And I still want that. I want to know what’s going on in your life again. I want to hold you as you're crying again. And I want to repay you for all the times you’ve helped me.” San whispers, his voice showing how much of a toll this has taken on him. “I know a lot has changed, I travel a lot, and it’s harder for us to go anywhere without me being recognized. But I promise you that my feelings for you, the amount of love I feel for you, it’s all still there. If anything, I love you even more now than before. I don’t want to lose you Y/N. I want to keep fighting for us and I just need you to reach out to me, show me you want this too. Open the door, even if it’s just a crack, and let me help heal those open wounds. Yes there will be scars and yes it will take time, but I’m willing to wait.”

At this point you have tears streaming down your face as you withdraw your hand. You don’t move though, despite your broken mind willing you to do so, you stay rooted in your spot. Sniffles break through the other side, showing how much San is hurting. You feel as though there’s a war going on inside of you, your heart begging you to open the door and stop this madness, but your mind resolute on keeping this wall up. 

“I. Can’t.” you croak out, bringing your trembling hand to your lips and nibbling your thumbnail as you rise slowly. “They were right, I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Who told you that?” San questions, confusion swirling in his head as he struggles to better understand where this was coming from. Standing, San presses his hands to the door, trying to open it only to find it locked. “Love, talk to me.”

“All I’ve been doing is hurting you, and I’m sorry. ” You whimper, your mind screaming at you to shut-up and not give away anything while your heart, your very being, is begging to be set free and allow him back in. “I, I love you, San.” And with that you rise, walking towards the bathroom attached to the room. You close the door, locking it and turning to the mirror to see your disheveled state. Tears stain your cheeks, your eyes have bags under them, and your hair is greasy and a mess from the lack of effort on your part to take care of yourself. 

Thoughts swirl and distort your reflection, harsh words clouding your mind. Some of the words surface from your past, some are from deep within you stemming from your lack of forgiveness for yourself. You don’t deserve forgiveness or a second chance. You don’t deserve him caring for you. You’re toxic. You do nothing but hurt him. Toxic. Toxic. 

You start screaming, starting in your gut and ripping out through your mouth, scaring the shit out of San who begins pounding on the door. You hear him calling out to you, but it’s muffled in your head as you continue to sob and scream at your reflection, running your hands through your hair before tugging on it out of frustration. The longer you look at yourself, the worse the feeling in your gut gets as the harsh words continue to tear you apart, worsening with each passing moment. With one last scream you pull your arm back and punch the mirror, desperate to feel something other than the all consuming self-hatred. And it works.

There’s a crack on the mirror with droplets of blood in the center. You bring your trembling hand into view, noticing your knuckles slightly bloodied and cut. The pain replaces all of the noise in your head, if only for a moment, and you become entranced by it. Raising your fist again, you punch the mirror once, twice, three more times before stopping to look at your handy work. The crack has grown and your hand is bleeding steadily, a couple of pieces of glass stuck in your knuckles. You’re ashamed of what and who you’ve become and raise your fist again when the door breaks down.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” San shouts, restraining your flailing and screaming form as tears stream down your face. Four pairs of hands are pulling you out of the bathroom, with San’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he pulls you on the bed. He immediately starts shushing you, whispering into your hair as he wraps his legs around you as well, restricting you so the others can clean you up and call an ambulance if need be. At this point though, he doesn’t need to as you’ve gone completely limp, sobbing into his neck loudly as the emotions you’ve kept hidden flood out in a wave that swallows you whole. “Shh baby, it’s okay. We’re here now and we’re not leaving you. I’ve got you, we’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is trembling, absolutely terrified by what he’s just experienced. It’s lucky that Hongjoong, Yunho, and Seonghwa arrived when they did or he might have been too late, having planned on coming to help San piece back together your relationship. It took Yunho and Seonghwa to break down the doors, and all four of them carried you out of the bathroom so you wouldn’t hurt yourself or them.

Soon, you run out of energy and are left whimpering and quivering in San’s hold, slowly coming to your senses as you hear running water, hushed murmurs, and the cabinet mirror (or what’s left of it) being opened in search of something. When the realization sets in that San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho have seen you at your worst, your chest tightens and your breathing becomes irregular which are the first signs of a panic attack. Something San was familiar with but hadn’t seen happen in some time.

“No no no no.” San repeats, noticing the changes in your behavior and looking towards the bathroom. “Hongjoong! It’s getting worse!”

Immediately, footsteps can be heard heading in your direction, and a gentle face appears in the corner of your eye. Hongjoong slowly reaches forward, grasping the hand that had begun curling in on itself to the point of almost drawing blood and pulling it away from your chest.

“Sweetie, grab my hand and squeeze that instead. You won’t hurt me, I swear.” Hongjoong whispers, slowly working his nimble fingers between your clenched ones. It comes as a surprise to him when, instead of resisting, your hand flies open into a rigid position. “Shh… it’s okay sweet-heart. How about this. Follow this.”

Your hand is placed on a firm and warm chest, a slight bump hitting your palm and drawing your attention to the pattern. It’s his heartbeat. Hongjoong’s pulse creates a rhythm in your head, distracting you from your fears and disdain towards yourself momentarily while Seonghwa and Yunho both return to the room, one holding medical supplies and the other holding a bowl with warm water and a towel. Crouching in front of you, Seonghwa notices the hand on Hongjoong’s chest is the one that’s injured, glancing at San who is fighting back tears as he strokes your hair.

“Y/n-ah. We have to clean your hand. Put your hand on San’s chest, follow his heartbeat.” Seonghwa says in a firm yet kind tone. At this point, you’ve lost almost all self-awareness, too exhausted to fight anyone as you nod partially, removing your hand from Hongjoong’s chest to place on San’s. “No sweetie. The other hand.” Seonghwa instructs, a heartbroken smile crossing his face at the sight of you behaving like a toddler who skipped their nap. You look confused, bringing your hand to your face to inspect it, finding the streaks of blood and bits of glass as a few tears trickle down your face. 

You’re not sure how long it takes for Seonghwa to properly clean your hands, or when you got changed into one of San’s shirts that fits like a dress, but as you’re lied down on the bed with San, who’s watching you intently to make sure any slight changes on your face are caught immediately, you find yourself in an almost numbed mind-frame. Too exhausted and confused to comprehend anything around you. 

Your eyes slowly close, the occasional tear slipping out only to be swiped gently away by San. San, the last thing you see before you fall into a dreamless sleep. And you are blissfully unaware of what’s to come in the morning.

As you snore softly in San’s grasp, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, Yunho leaves the room to clean up the mess that has been left behind with Seonghwa following closely behind, most likely to comfort the younger boy. Hongjoong reaches forward to brush hair out your eyes and slowly strokes your cheek. Who knew such a small body could take this much pain? he wonders to himself, not even beginning to understand what caused you to struggle so much and break down so devastatingly. And that’s the only way to describe your attack. Devastating.

Like a tsunami, you receded from social outings and even your true love San, and once they realized what was happening and why you’d “changed” the wave had already hit. But his main question was voiced by San.

“Hyung.” San rasps out, looking up at Hongjoong with tears streaming down his face. “Why-or how did this happen? What caused this? What are we-what am I supposed to do?” 

San’s breathing becomes labored, almost as if the weight of the situation has sat fully on his chest. He chokes on a sob, looking at you in your angelic state while pressing a gentle and wet kiss to the top of your head while crying. He clutches you to his chest, rocking slightly and burying his face in your head. Hongjoong panics, thinking he’ll wake you but settles once realizing how exhausted you must be. “Why would she keep this from me?”

“San-ah, I honestly don’t have the answer to that.” Hongjoong mumbles, holding his own tears back with a few deep breaths before looking at the pair of you. He honestly considered Ateez his family, and you became his little sister that he felt he needed to protect from the world. If only he’d realized sooner how much damage the world had already done to you. “But I do know one thing. Now more than ever, she needs us.”

San looks at his hyung and leader, absolutely wrecked from the storm of emotions that flowed between you two. “How?” he croaks out.

“I’m not sure. But what I do know is that the storm hasn’t gone and that this is only the beginning of our journey.” Hongjoong places a hand on your cheek and his other on San’s hand, squeezing slightly in hopes of reassuring the younger boy. “I see how much you need her San. And how much she needs you. She’s scared San. More so than any of us right now. Which is why we have to stay with her no matter what. No matter what she might say or do to scare us off, we have to fight through it all and show her we are here for her. Because if we don’t.” Hongjoong’s voice cracks, revealing his true emotions and the toll this whole ordeal has taken on him. “We might lose her forever.”

San sits quietly, shaking slightly from the silent tears that are being shed and pulling you closer to his chest if that was even possible, crying himself into a slumber much like you did moments prior. Hongjoong rises, tucking both of you in like he would an upset child, and walking into the bathroom. The scene that awaits him is what finally breaks his own dam of tears, collapsing next to Seonghwa and Yunho who are both crouched down. They’ve hunched over, scrubbing the white tiles of your blood and throwing glass shards away in a paper bag. Upon noticing Hongjoong, Yunho drops what’s in his hands, embracing his leader and best friend. His tears fall as well, the sight of someone as strong as Hongjoong breaking down terrifying him. 

Seonghwa wipes the few stray tears before rising, quickly finishing the task of cleaning before ushering the two broken boys out of the room. He sits Hongjoon and Yunho down, pulling out a paper and pen and titling it “Y/n’s Healing.”

“We’ll make a plan, and take this journey one step at a time. Until Y/n’s finally healed.” Seonghwa states, immediately writing steps and plans he’s already come up with in his head. And so the journey begins.

#ateez angst #san angst #choi san angst #san x reader #hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong angst #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa angst #park seonghwa angst #seonghwa x reader #yunho angst #jeong yunho angst #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #tw: depression #tw: self harm

[cyborg-franky]

Learning Curve

This was a comission for @donivanessdoodles it was a delight writing for my beloved bread boi and their darling little bean <3

Thatch X OC SFW Word Count: 1,280

Marco sighed and leaned back in his chair, hands on his face as he exhaled air into his cupped hands as he glanced at the young man sitting in the chair across from him. Willis looked down at his hands, band-aids dotted around, curled around some fingers, covering marks further up.

“Can it be fixed?” He asked biting his lip trying not to fidget in his seat, but the phoenix hadn’t reacted in a comforting manner as he sighed once more and leaned forward, a larger hand placed over the man who’d fallen from the sky and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“There are limits even to my healing I’m afraid. I did the best I could but even if I was able to fix it, would only be a temporary one yoi.” Marco offered a soft smile, sympathy in his eyes.

Willis was about to say reply to Marco, the unsettled feeling bubbling inside of him. He felt like he was weak, he’d always strived to be a brave and strong warrior, it was expected of him considering where he was from. He glanced skyward for a moment, rubbing his hands nervously as Marco pulled away.

“It’s not the end of the world though, you can still find a place here, a purpose yoi.” Marco smiled wider now, both of them looking towards the door when it opened.

“Hey birdbrain, how’s the kid?” Thatch asked before he paused, eyes fixating on the young man with wings sprouting from his back.

“Thatch!” Marco said and placed his hands on his desk, grinning at his friend. “How about you take Willis? You are always complaining that you need a new assistant yoi.” Marco couldn’t help his lopsided albeit smug smirk on his lips as the two looked at one another.

Thatch raised an eyebrow looking between the zoan to the fallen Skypeian. He looked him over, a handsome thing he thought to himself. He seemed so unsure of everything, something he’d seen in many new recruits over the years. Willis reminded him of Ace in that regard, strong and brimming with life, just needed a little guidance.

“Alright kiddo, follow me.”

--

“Ever cooked anything?” Thatch asked Willis as they entered his kitchen, Willis taking everything in.

Thatch kept a nice clean kitchen, everything was set up just right, a denden was set up in the corner so he could play music while he worked. He opened a cupboard and looked through the chef whites, glancing over at Willis, narrowing his eyes before nodding his head.

“Here darlin’ try these on over your clothes.” He handed his newest recruit the freshly ironed whites and watched as he slipped on the trousers, seemed a little loose but they would at least be comfortable.

“Uh, Thatch?”

“Yeah?”

Willis smiled and flapped his wings, holding up the jacket to show his dilemma. Thatch chuckled and ran a hand across the slicked backside of his hair, he shook his head at himself before he took the jacket back. He cut two holes in the back.

“Here.” Thatch held the jacket open for Willis who cocked his head to one side. Thatch was such a warm and open person.

Actually, everyone here had been. From the moment he’d been found by the whitebeards everyone had been like a family to him. The large man, Whitebeard had laughed from the bottom of his soul as he announced the fallen warrior was now one of his sons.

The phoenix and his smaller grey-haired partner had been one of the first on the scene, working with him and keeping him calm when his world had gone silent on one side. Trying their best to help him, rescue him.

Ace had been there too, a bright spark that could cheer anyone up with that grin and sassy sense of humour. The rest had helped in their own way as Willis tried to navigate his new life, at least until he was healed up.

Thatch was here, holding open the jacket for him, that warm smile on his handsome face, how his eyes crinkled with a fondness he’d never felt before but couldn’t help wanting more. Thatch helped him into the jacket, doing up the tricky buttons before he stepped back to admire how Willis looked.

“Missing something…”

“Hearing in one side?”

Willis grinned brightly when Thatch was taken aback by his joke, the older man laughed and slapped him on the back, careful to mind the wings that sprouted from his back. “Birdbrains and their sass, another one of you to deal with huh?” He rolled his eyes but looked around.

Hanging up on a peg was one of Thatch’s signature yellow scarfs, he slipped it off the hook and walked to Willis, gently slipping it over his neck, adjusting it neatly before he smiled, rubbing his beard in thought, one eye open as he regarded his new assistant.

“Now you look like a proper chef!”

---

As time went on Willis opened up, finding himself on the crew, making friends, deepening connections. He learned skills, spent many nights in the kitchen with Thatch learning new recipes and new techniques.

Getting into all sorts of trouble with Ray and causing Thatch and Marco extra work. Not that Thatch minded, seeing the smile, and hearing that joyful laughter from Willis made him feel years younger, it was good for his soul.

--

Sitting outside one night, Willis sat on an empty barrel and stared into the night sky, watching the stars twinkling above them in the expanse of a world unknown. Bright pinpricks bringing the night its beauty. Thatch couldn’t help but stare at him, a cigarette hanging from between his lips as he took a drag, exhaling into the air.

“Ya’know, despite how many plates you break.” Thatch started, a hand resting on Willis’s shoulder to get his attention, knowing the man could often miss when he was being spoken to, thanks to his hearing.

“You’ve been the best assistant I’ve ever had.” He nodded when Willis blinked those big, beautiful eyes of his, casting his glance from the sky to Thatch’s smiling face.

“Yeah?”

“But I gotta tell ya something darlin’” Thatch plucked the cigarette from his lips, tapping the ash onto the floor, unable to keep his eyes on his assistant any longer, letting himself stare into the sky, mulling over his words.

“I think I caught feelin’s for you… And I know you wanna try fly back home soon as your feelin’ better an’ that really… “ Thatch sighed and stubbed his cigarette out on the wall, watching as Willis stared at him with an open mouth and confused expression.

“Come on wings…” He chuckled, it wasn’t its usual jovial tone, laced with an uncharacteristic nervousness.

He’d laid his heart on the line, confessed his feelings and Willis was just looking at him like he’d seen a ghost. Thatch was about to say something, the silence too much before the other man grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him down and into a kiss.

Thatch’s surprise was muffled by the lips of Willis as said man pulled him even closer. Thatch pulled him from where he was sitting, holding him close against his broad chest, stroking a hand through soft hair before pulling away.

“I don’t want to leave, I don’t have a place back there, this is my home now,” Willis whispered against the chef’s lips. “This is my home, my family and… I like you back Thatch.” He admitted and heard Thatch chuckle, the warmth in his tone had returned as he held his face gently.

“I love you wings.”

“I love you too, Baguette.”

#thatch x oc #one piece oc #one piece own character #thatch one piece x oc #thatch one piece

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Domestic Codependency. 

Commission for the lovely @99shadowcat99.

Work Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Yandere!Shigaraki/Reader

Synopsis: Shigaraki might be your kidnapper, but he’s never been very good at taking care of himself, much less another living, breathing person. Learning to fend for yourself under his careful surveillance is a practiced skill, to you. Albeit one he doesn’t take very kindly to.

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Violence, Choking, Mentions of Death, Dehumanization, and Slight Stockholm Syndrome.

It was kind of like having a pet, once you got used to it.

That’s what Shigaraki was, really, if you ignored the tracking bracelet around your ankle and the half a dozen deadbolts on every exit of whatever filthy, cramped apartment you’d been locked inside of for the past three months. He was a stray cat - a scowling, growling ball of fur that stumbled through your door every few days, asking to be fed and held and loved until he left again, forcing you to wonder if he’d make it back before your resources ran shorter than his temper. When he bared his teeth, you tried to hum and smile and keep him content until he calmed down. When he dug his nails into you, it meant he was having doubts about your loyalty, so you had to be ready spend the rest of the night soothing his concerns and denying his paranoid claims until he fell asleep in your arms or got irritated enough to sedate you and let you fall asleep in his. And when he purred, it meant you’d finally made it to a day where he could just be happy to see you, where you were allowed to be happy, too.

Those were the best days, when you could just relax, take a deep breath, and be confident that he wouldn’t find a reason to feed you to wolves. He’d smile and ruffle your hair, kiss your forehead and tell you about his day, all the little, domestic things a normal couple might do. You didn’t like those days, but they were bearable. More bearable than the rest, at least.

Today was not one of those days, obviously.

You were on your feet the moment you heard the first lock click, a metallic scrape that rang through the flat and served as your signal to pull yourself together just enough to be presentable, but not to overshadow your benevolent, saintly, insecure captor. By the time the front door began to open, you were positioned behind it, your hands clasped in front of you to avoid the nervous ticks and fidgets he always said meant you ‘had something to hide’, when he was in his worst moods. You didn’t give him time for critiques. The moment he was close enough, you were all-but throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midriff and burying your face in his chest, waiting for a gentle tap to your shoulder before you even dared to pull away, glancing up at him with the brightest smile you could manage.

“You’re home!” You called, by way of greeting. You knew better than to blatantly lie, by now. Shigaraki didn’t like it when he decided you were being more disingenuous than you had to be. “You came at the perfect time, too! Dinner’s almost ready, I should only need a few more minutes--”

You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching when you saw his scowl, tugging at the corners of his lips just enough to be differentiated from his usual grimace. The falter was momentary, though, and you’d already prepared for his tone, by the time he spoke. “I didn’t tell you to cook.”

Fine. Whatever. You had to work with what you had, in situations like this.

If he was going to be like that, you’d find a way to live with it.

“I… I thought it’d be nice,” You admitted, pulling away completely, letting yourself scan over Shigaraki for the first time since his arrival. His clothes were torn, a series of minor rips you’d have to mend later on, his hair disheveled and his shoulder injured, white bandages just visible underneath his collar. A fight hadn’t gone his way, obviously, or a mission went poorly enough to warrant his concern. Either way, it wouldn’t mean anything good for you. “You’re always so busy, and it’s not like I have anything better to do. I’m home all day,” You added, managing a hasty, noncommittal wave. “Is there a problem?”

“There’s always a fucking problem, with you.” It was a snarl, this time, something low and throaty that managed bypass dismissive without being direct enough to qualify as a call for attention. He didn’t push his way past you, but he didn’t need to. The moment he stepped forward, you were already at his side, trailing after him like a puppy attempting to bite at its master’s heels. “I never asked you to take care of me. I don’t keep you around to follow me around and treat me like a kid.”

It was a small space, by all means, but there was a bedroom towards the back, one Shigaraki liked to say was ‘off-limits’ whenever he wasn’t home. With that in mind, you stalled in the doorway, hesitating as he shrugged off his coat and let it fall onto your bed, painting the gray sheets with a fine layer of dust and debris. “I’m just trying to help.” It was a weak attempt, one that earned a sharp glare rather than an understanding response. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? I mean, it’s not like you were taking care of yourself before I got here, and you’re not really around often enough to take care of me.”

“That’s enough, (Y/n).” A harsh tone - stern, but not aggressive. Now, he was going to be the bigger person. Now. “You know how you’re supposed to behave, don’t--”

“How I’m supposed to behave?” Part of you wanted to laugh. Part of you wanted to scream. You didn’t expect to be appreciated, but it’d always bothered you that he’d decided you were the immature one, that you the child who couldn’t let of of their new, shiny toy until it suffocated. “Are there requirements, now? Did you forget to let me know about that when you kidnapped me--”

Your feet were off the ground before you had a chance to finish, his hands around your neck and his grip tight enough to cut off anything you might’ve said. He wouldn’t kill you. You knew he wouldn’t kill you, not with a quirk like yours, not when you healed faster than he could destroy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. It was easy to forget that you weren’t expendable with his thumbs lodged against your trachea, with any decent exhale smothered into a ragged whisper of a breath. You did what you could, scratching at his hands and digging your nails into thin skin, but if Shigaraki cared, he didn’t bother letting go. If anything, his grip only grew tightener, leaving your writhing in the air as he watched you struggle.

“Fucking brat,” He spat, all his vaguely masked rage boiling to the surface, becoming far more than a lurking threat before you could hope to calm it. Your lungs were beginning to ache, throbbing in your chest, your skull growing more confining with each passing second. “I’m supposed to be in charge. I’m supposed to be the one in control. After everything I’ve done for you, the last thing you should do is patronize--” There was a groan, apparent and frustrated. You might’ve empathized, if you’d been able to think about anything other than the crushing pressure. “You can’t just... I didn’t bring you here to--”

Your eyes were shut by the time he dropped you, your limp body collapsing to the floor with a sudden, jarring crack. You fought not to cower away, not to push yourself to your feet and run until he decided his anger was better taken out on some low-ranking villain or helpless civilian, but Shigaraki was already reaching down, dragging you upward and pulling you into his chest, one arm worked underneath your thighs and his free hand pressed against your back, keeping you pressed against him, by association. It was a familiar position, one that always followed his fits shortly. It meant he was ready to forgive you, ready for you to forgive him. It meant he’d calmed down.

It meant he’d already thrown his tantrum, and now he was ready for you to shower him with affection and act like you’d been dying to dote on him, since he started pushing you away.

“I… It’s been a long day,” He offered, in place of a real apology. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, your tongue still too heavy to use, but you strung your arms over his shoulders as he spoke, nodding in a stilted, jerky motion Shigaraki didn’t seem to mind. “Toga keeps complaining about lying low, and… actually, I’ll tell you about that later. Right now, I should just be glad I’m around someone helpless enough to take me seriously.” He said it so fondly, so softly, as if he hadn’t tried to break your neck for implying something half as incriminating. You didn’t have the strength to point out his hypocrisy. “But, you’ll forgive me, right? You still love me?”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Your response came in the form of your touch, fingers raking through his hair as he leaned into your palm, accepting your answer without further argument. He was a stray, after all. Regardless of how many times he bit and scratched and drew blood, you wouldn’t be able to turn him away. He was your stray.

And you had to take care of your stray.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere onshot #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere scenerioes #commission #yandere commission #writing commission #yandere prompts #boku no hero academia #boku no hero acadamia imagines #yandere boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #yandere my hero academia #bnha imagines #yandere bnha #yandere mha #mha imagines #shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

[nalgenewhore]

good

elide x lorcan, modern/neighbours au, fluff + tension, word count: 3515

There hadn’t been a new resident in the building for a while, but the girl seemed nice enough. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised that she moved in next door, considering that the unit next to his had been vacant for some time.

When he’d received the email from his landlord, Lorcan supposed he was simply used to only having to share one wall with someone and that with a little time, he’d get used to it.

He met her the day she was moving in, bright and early on a Tuesday morning. He’d held the door open for who he assumed were her friends – a tall blonde with wickedly electric blue eyes and a shorter brunette with upturned emerald eyes. Lorcan had nodded at their thanks and stepped out of the building. Then his sight had set on her, Elide Lochan. It was pure muscle memory on which his feet propelled him forward. He’d been so entranced by her that he’d been too late to prevent her from twisting her right ankle as she tried to save herself from falling off of the moving truck’s ramp, but he’d been able to give her a nudge so that she didn’t eat shit on the asphalt road.

“Ooh, fuck,” the woman said, a grimace twisting her delicate features. She hopped to balance on her other foot and sat down on the edge of the truck bed. She glanced up at him, muted gratitude flashing across her angular eyes, almost as dark as his. “Thanks,” she bit out.

“Welcome,” Lorcan replied. He nodded towards her injured ankle, “I can take a look for ya, ‘m a physiotherapist.”

Her brows arched up and she ran an eye up and down him. Lorcan resisted the urge to straighten his posture and his skin felt like it was tingling beneath his clothes. “Really? Don’t look like one.”

“Yeah? What do I look like, then?”

She shrugged, tilting her chin back to properly assess him. “Hmm… a boxer or something like that. Gang enforcer.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Nah, s’not me. I mean, I’m a boxer’s physiotherapist, but I don’t fight.”

“Really? Who’s the fighter?”

“Ya got a lot of questions for someone whose name ya don’t know.”

She laughed and extended her hand towards him, “Fine. I’m Elide Lochan.”

Lorcan’s hand dwarfed hers and he could feel his calluses scraping against hers. Interesting. “Lorcan Salvaterre.” They dropped their hands and he gestured towards her ankle again, “Want me to check now, Elide Lochan?”

“Sure,” she chuckled, slipping her faded black Van off and taking off her sock, too, as it covered her ankle. Elide put them to the side and reached down to roll the hem of her overalls up.

He lightly wrapped his hand around her heel and lifted her leg to examine it, fingers gently prodding the already swelling skin. Despite feeling her eyes burn into him, Lorcan didn’t look up. “Alright,” he slid his hand up her achilles tendon and rested his other palm against the sole of her foot, locking it in place, “bend ya knee for me, yeah? Tell me when it hurts.”

Lorcan flicked his eyes between her ankle and face, tracking her pain. Elide grit her teeth as she bent her knee without moving her ankle and stopped after only a few degrees of movement. “There, it hurts there.”

He hummed and nodded, straightening her leg. “‘kay, move it inwards.” Again, she could only move it a few centimetres before the pain made her wince. Lorcan nodded, tilting his head to the right. Elide followed his wordless instruction and was able to move her foot further.

“Is it bad?”

“Could be worse, but yeah, s’not great, Lochan.” Lorcan tapped his finger against the swelling on the outside of her ankle, “See this, s’really swelling up, so probably a grade two sprain, which means there’s a partial tear in the ligament.” He gently put her foot down and looked up at her, her eyes wide. “Hey, s’ok. Sounds worse than it is, promise.”

“You said I tore a ligament!”

“Said partial, and these types of sprains are really common,” he told her, his voice even. “There’s gonna be some bruising later and you’re gonna have trouble walking for a couple weeks, so what you’re gonna do is you’re going to get ya friends to move the rest of ya boxes, you’re gonna sit down and keep it elevated and iced – twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off for the next two days, yeah?”

Elide nodded, the panic melting from her face. “Then what? I can’t just sit around for the next two weeks.”

Lorcan chuckled, shaking his head, “Ya got a compression brace?”

She shook her head, worrying her bottom lip. “No.”

“That’s fine, they’re pretty cheap down the street at Brullo’s,” he told her. “s’a gym, but they sell stuff like that. Get one of ya friends to go and get it, yeah? I really mean rest for the next two days.”

Just then, her friends arrived and their eyes snapped back and forth over the scene they were confronted with. The blonde rose a single brow, her hand cocked on her hip. “Well, this is cosy.”

Lorcan blinked. It wasn’t even nine in the morning.

“Shut it, Aelin,” Elide said, rolling her eyes. “I sprained my ankle and my new neighbour here is a physiotherapist. His name is Lorcan.”

Aelin looked at him as the other brunette shook her head and walked around her to check on Elide. “Really? What qualifications do you have? Where do you work?”

“‘m a licenced physiotherapist. Work for a private client.”

“Hmm.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped back from Elide, deciding it would be better to address her other friend. “I’m Lorcan.”

“Lysandra,” the woman told him as she helped Elide with her shoe. “Please ignore Aelin. She was neglected as a child and now has attention seeking behaviour issues.” Lysandra’s words were light with laughter and Lorcan chuckled quietly. “Is there anything we can do for Elide?”

“Yeah, make sure she rests and ices her ankle for the next two days. I told her, but it’s twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off for the icing and make sure ya get some sorta compression brace.”

Lysandra nodded, “Ok, we’ll do that. What if it’s still this bad in two days?”

“Knock on my door, s’unit 3D.”

“I’ll do that,” Elide said, something in her voice making him pause and meet her stare. “Salvaterre.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Lorcan replied, the tip of his tongue rolling against his lower lip. He caught the way her eyes tracked the movement. “Lochan.”

Lorcan parked his car in front of his building and picked up his bag as he got out. When he stood, he arched his back, hearing his spine pop in a couple different spots. “Fuck,” he groaned in sweet relief. He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and locked the car before walking up to the lobby doors.

As he slid his key into the lock, he glanced around, wondering if he would see Elide. He’d learnt a few days after she moved in that she was a baker and owned a local bakery-slash-coffee shop when she’d come to thank him with a box of freshly made wild blueberry and pastry cream tarts. They were easily the most delicious things he’d ever eaten and after the first bite, he swore he fell in love a little bit.

With his late schedule, he had to go to Fenrys’ fights which were always scheduled during the evening, but he would often run into Elide on her way home from the bakery. It had become routine for them to chat on their way up and smile at each other as they slipped into their apartments, their doors often closing with the same click at the same time.

Lorcan didn’t see her and his heart sunk a little in disappointment. He crossed over to the fire escape instead of the elevator and walked the six flights of stairs up to his floor.

The moment he opened the door at the third level, he could hear music playing, albeit muffled. He frowned, it wasn’t like the tenants to blast their music. Elide was silent and kept to herself, except for when they both happened to be out on their balconies. Lorcan liked those evenings, he liked sitting out there and enjoying his dinner while Elide had hers. They’d quickly found that they could talk about anything together and it was as easy as breathing. Within the month, give or take, that she’d been here, her ankle had healed up nicely, but there was still lingering stiffness and an ache if she was on it too long.

As Lorcan got closer to his apartment, the music grew louder too. He quickly realised that it was coming from underneath Elide’s door and figured she had friends over or something like that. Lorcan let himself into his house and the music was louder inside. He toed off his shoes, hung up his jacket, and put his work bag down. He walked down the front hall, pulling the elastic from his hair, which fell out of the high bun he’d shoved it in and tumbled down to his hips.

Lorcan dragged his hand through his hair, shaking it out and massaging the kinks out. The longer he listened to the music, he realised that it wasn’t happy music, not the type of song one would listen to with friends.

He stepped closer to their shared wall and leaned towards it, unable to figure out the lyrics. The melody was still blasting and Lorcan glanced at his oven’s clock. It was almost midnight, so she couldn’t be up for too much longer, surely. Lorcan decided that he’d go to the building’s gym for the next hour and by the time he returned, Elide’s little music thing would be over.

He moved to his room to get changed and in his bedroom, he could hear Elide singing along, loud and angry.

“...lost my mind, I’ve spent the night cry-ing on the flo-or of my bedroom, but you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it, but I guess good for yo-o-ou…”

Lorcan smirked, shaking his head softly. A few minutes later, he was changed and tying his high-top Chucks, winding the laces around his ankles once before hitching a neat bow. He grabbed his headphones and phone from the pants he’d discarded, and he got up, moving towards his door.

As he walked to the stairs, fitting his headphones over his ears, Lorcan glanced back at her door, wondering what had happened for her to be cathartically shouting along to what could only be a breakup song.

He shrugged to himself and connected his phone to his headphones, playing his own music loud enough to drown hers out. Lorcan disappeared into the stairwell and jogged down to the gym.

Exactly two hours later, Lorcan stepped out of the elevator, his shoulders and deltoids stiffening from the workout he’d just finished. He paused his music and pulled his headphones off as he stopped in front of his door, pausing when he realised that music was still playing. Lorcan checked his phone to make sure that he’d paused the song and frowned in confusion when he confirmed that it wasn’t his music.

But if it wasn’t his, then it could only be… Lorcan snapped his head up, staring incredulously down at Elide’s door. She was still playing music and the melody matched the same song he’d heard before he’d gone. Sweet fuck, something was really wrong.

He wanted to go check on her, but Lorcan wasn’t sure if they were there yet in their young friendship.

Sighing, Lorcan just resolved to suck it up for the night. It had to end at some point, he told himself.

<3<3<3

Some point ended up being four o’clock in the morning. At first, Lorcan had thought that he’d gone deaf or something. He’d fallen asleep minutes after and his body, like always, forced him up three hours later.

To wake himself up, Lorcan had gone to the corner shop down the street and bought a cup of their coffee, which was practically tar, and a pack of cigarettes. The man didn’t smoke much anymore, but the nicotine would wake him up like nothing else so he’d given in.

He was sitting on the edge of the planter box outside the building, sipping on his coffee and smoking a cigarette. The smoke was bitter and alongside the coffee, Lorcan was feeling marginally conscious. It was enough to interact with humans, so he supposed it was good enough.

The lobby door opened, but Lorcan didn’t bother looking over until he heard a familiar voice.

“Oh. I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Mornin’ to ya too, ‘lide,” he said, his voice quiet. Lorcan looked up at her, drinking in the sight of her. He’d learnt quickly that overalls were a staple in Elide’s wardrobe. She was wearing a black tank top beneath her dungarees and her black hair was twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. A red bandana was tied around her head, matching her tote bag.

She chuckled, looking down at her black Vans. “Hello.”

“Hey,” he replied, grimacing as he drank some of his coffee. “And I don’t.” At Elide’s look of confusion, he elaborated and took a drag from his smoke. “Smoke, anymore. I quit a couple years back, but it helps wake me up.”

Elide nodded, running a cursory eye over his slightly disheveled appearance. “Hmm, you don’t look so good. Rough sleep?”

He snorted, tapping his finger against the cig to knock the ash off. “Yeah, had a shit sleep. Some girl was playing her music real loud, ya hear it?”

She squeaked and blush as her eyes filled with guilt. Lorcan smirked and finished his cigarette. He stubbed it and tucked the filter back into the pack, pulling out the gum he’d bought and taking a piece. “O-oh, you, uh, heard that?”

“‘lil bit, yeah.”

“It kept you up?”

He shrugged, “S’not a big deal, I’ve had worse.”

“Still,” Elide said, her cheeks pink, “I’m sorry. If you want- if you’re free, you can come to work with me? I’m sure my coffee is better than whatever that is.” She tilted on her tip-toes, hopeful. “And it’s free.” Lorcan stood up, finishing his shitty coffee. He shuddered as he swallowed it and Elide laughed, tilting towards the sidewalk. “That’s a yes, then?”

“Sure is,” Lorcan grinned slightly.

“Right then.”

They fell into step and walked to her bakery, which was only a ten minute stroll away.

When they got to her shop, Elide showed him to the table closest to the counter so that they could be as close as possible throughout the day. Despite that, they didn’t see each other too much. Lorcan read through a few newspapers and the magazines Elide offered to him. Once in a while, she would come by to drop off a coffee for him, usually an americano with an extra shot in it. She brought him various pastries too, always lingering until he took his first bite and praised her for her talent.

Elide closed her shop at four and let Luca, her employee, go home early. “Wanna help me with the dishes?”

Lorcan grinned and got up, “‘Course I do.” He followed her into the kitchen and he washed the dishes while she dried them and put them away. “D’ya have a good day?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I did.” Elide snuck a glance at his profile, “Did you?”

“I did.” He paused, a teasing grin curling his lips. “All the free shit really made up for last night.”

Elide gasped and hit his shoulder, trying not to gawk when her ineffectual blow was met with pure muscle. “I already told you I was sorry for that!”

“Just teasin’ ya, Elide,” he chuckled, looking at her through the corner of his eye.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, shaking her head at him.

They continued in a comfortable silence until all the dishes were done and the rest of the kitchen was clean. Elide pushed Lorcan towards the big counter, “Take those stools down and I’ll get something for dinner.”

“Well, shit, Lochan, ya don’t gotta do all that,” Lorcan protested, his eyes wide. “Really, ‘m not even mad ‘bout last night. I wasn’t ever mad, I swear.”

She laughed, shaking her head, “I know, I’m just teasin’ ya.” He narrowed his eyes at her as she cackled, throwing his words back at him. “Gods, man, sit already! I’m starving and it’s not like I’m going to kick you out to find your own dinner.”

He gave in and took the metal stools down, putting them in front of the counter. Elide bustled back with two beers and two sandwiches. The food was from the industrial fridge in the back and the drinks were from the staff fridge.

They sat next to each other. Both of Elide’s feet were on the spindle, while Lorcan only rested one on the bar and his other leg was stretched out, his heel against the floor beneath Elide’s stool. Dinner was a wonderfully domestic, simple affair. Like everything else Elide made, the sandwiches were phenomenal and Lorcan told her so, around a mouthful of said sandwich.

Elide laughed at his muffled voice, her head tipped back. He swallowed and stared, captivated by the sight of her joy. Lorcan didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring when she calmed and he smirked at her blush, casually draining the rest of his beer. His eyes tracked the way she watched him, swallowing once.

He put the glass bottle down, now empty. Nodding his chin to her bottle, which was also empty, Lorcan rubbed his fingertips up and down his jaw. “Done there?”

“Yeah,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

He nodded again and got up, gathering their trash. Lorcan tossed it as Elide got her things ready to go. He followed her out, flicking off the lights when she told him to. As he waited for her to lock up, Lorcan stood on the curb, head bent with his eyes on her, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Night had fallen and that was the only reason he reached his hand out to her, so that she wouldn’t trip over anything. Elide slipped her fingers through his and tugged him with her. He marveled at how naturally their hands fit together, her thumb pressed against the first knuckle of his index finger.

They didn’t talk much as they walked home. Somehow, their steps matched each other’s despite their not-so-little size difference.

They held hands all the way to her door and when she let go, his hand felt strange, a bit useless, too. Lorcan leaned his shoulder against the wall and tilted his head to the side, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “How loud is it gonna be tonight? Just tryin’ to plan around ya heartbreak.”

Elide scoffed, flicking her eyes upwards. “It was hardly heartbreak. Don’t you think breakup songs are kind of cathartic?”

He shrugged, “Depends.”

She rolled her eyes at his taciturnity. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, it’d slipped free during the day. “Besides, there’s better ways of being too loud and pissing off the neighbours.” Elide looked up at him, shifting closer to him.

Lorcan arched a brow, making a show of slowly surveying her, eyes clinging to the curve of her hips. “Oh, yeah? Need a partner for that, hmm?”

It was Elide’s turn to tilt her head to the side and shrug, “I don’t think so. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

His pulse jumped, heart beating faster than it had two seconds ago. Lorcan ran his tongue along the undersides of his teeth and pulled it back to the roof of his mouth as he grinned, “Oh, I’m sure ya can, but I’m tryin’ this new thing, ya see.”

“Really? And what’s that?”

He raised his chin in challenge, delighted to see the heat and desire storming in her eyes. “Bein’ a gentleman.” Elide laughed at that, but Lorcan continued. “See, so I gotta lend ya a hand.”

Elide reached out, her fingers wandering innocently up his sternum. “Just one? And just your hand?”

“Lochan,” he murmured, letting her pull him down when her hand curls in the collar of his shirt, “you can have whatever that ‘lil heart desires.”

She sharply tugged and then they were kissing, weeks of tension and hesitation leading up to this. It wasn’t nice or neat, but neither cared as their mouths fit together. Lorcan’s hand rose to cup her jaw, his thumb on her chin, tilting her head up. Elide parted her lips for his tongue and moaned softly. She reached her hand backwards and twisted the door handle, shoving the door open. “Good.”

<3<3<3

an: i wanted 2 write smthng with good 4 u but im a softie now n i cant write breakup fics 😭

@mythicaitt @eyllweambassador @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @jadeaffliction @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @gracie-rosee @myshadowsingeraz @firestarsandseneschals @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @hellasblessed @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr @rowaelinismyotp @sassyhobbits @swankii-art-teacher @januarystears

#elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #thanx 2 this all of my targeted ads r abt compression braces lolz

[imagineabrighterworld]

{Flowers} Midoriya x Reader

Summary// Soulmate!AU where everyone has different soulmate markers. Yours happens to be that flowers bloom where your soulmate gets injured. You just happen to be paired with the boy who breaks his bones daily.

Buds and small blossoms were the norm for you as a child. You would find yourself with little blooms on your palms or on your knees, your mother explaining that that meant your soulmate hurt themself. Maybe tripped or bumped into a table.

Your mom told you how the buds that bloomed on your cheeks meant someone was being mean.

As a teen you realize that the flowers on your body meant cruel things and cruel people.

"Hang on out there." You whisper to the flower on your shoulder, its soft petals tickling your skin. You wished you could talk to your soulmate through your skin like your mothers, how they could write on their skin and see the message on each other, or sing and hear the others voice like your uncle had with his wife. But you and your soulmate were connected by flowers.

What was going on in their life to have so many flowers? Sometimes you could feel phantom pains on your stomach as small bruise colored blossoms grew on your skin, or feel the sharp sting of a slap on your cheek the color of yellow daisies.

One day you're walking down the street when you bump into a green haired boy. You were in a good mood, lately there hadn't been new flowers on your body, which had to mean your soulmate was having a good week.

"Hi." You smile at the boy whose face immediately turns pink.

"H-Hi!" He stutters, his hand immediately going to the back of his neck. "Sorry for bumping into you, I should've been watching- not watching you! But watching out! You know- like how you walk and- and yeah.."

You chuckle. He was cute. Covered in freckles and with bright green eyes like the leaves of a tulip. "Don't worry about it." You hold out your hand and introduce yourself. "How about you?"

He shyly takes your hand. His grip is surprisingly stronger than you expected. "I'm Izuku Midoriya."

"Nice to meet you Midoriya." You smile and shake his hand firmly. "Guess I'll see you around."

"Y-Yeah." He smiles.

He smiles and for a moment the world slows to a stop.

You suck in a breath and hold onto your smile as you continue walking.

--

It's when you enter highschool that the flowers return.

You're in the middle of orientation when deep purple hellebores sprout from your finger. You flex your hand and feel the ghostly pains of a broken bone. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you listen to the droning of your homeroom teacher.

What happened to start the cycle again? Why was your soulmate hurting? Who was hurting them?

For the first weeks of school, you're stuck with that question as you do nightly checks. Your arms were constantly covered in flowers, and if you were capable of laughing at something so serious, you would debate selling bouquets with the flowers you were growing.

--

The day of the U.A. Sports Festival you sit between your moms and listen to the pro hero Present Mic as he introduces the classes.

Your mom cheers from your left. "We’ll get to see the first years that survived the villain attack!"

Your mother on your right chuckles. "You say it like it was planned darling, they're only kids. They're probably scarred."

Your moms debate the mental health of the 1-A first years as you watch the students from your spot in the stands. The blooms were getting better and had receded, showing your soulmate had healed which allowed you to focus on the games below.

But then a new set of questions popped up.

Would your soulmate be watching too? Were they interested in the sports festival? Were they quirkless? Did they have a quirk? Did they want to be a hero? You couldn't stop the questions that flowed freely in your mind.

You lean on your palm with your elbow resting on your knee. Your face lights up with surprise as you spot a familiar face in the crowd of students from Class A.

"Hey I know that boy!" You point to Midoriya and tug on your moms sleeves. A smile forms on your face. You didn't know he was going to U.A. but then again you never asked. You didn't think to ask.

"I never got his number though."

Your mother hums. "Too bad, he's cute."

Your mom pats your back. "You can try after the games are over."

During the first and second event, you keep your eyes glued to Midoriya. He was a good strategist. Even if he hadn't shown his quirk yet, you could see how skilled he was. It was a far cry from how you met him. Stuttering and shy. He was confident now, albeit a little emotional. He felt different to you.

"You can do it!" You whisper to yourself, your hands clenched as you see him step up to begin his match. You believed in him!

"Welcome to the first match of the finals tournament!"

From above you could see the student across from him begin to speak. Obviously you couldn't catch what was being said, but you had high hopes for Midoriya!

"Ready? Begin!"

Midoriya begins to run forward, but right as he nears the middle of the platform, he freezes in place and stays there. You feel a shiver run through your body as you watch him. Why was he staying still?

"The fight has just begun and Izuku Midoriya is completely frozen!"

The other  boy’s lips start to move. Midoriya turns around and begins to walk back to his side of the ring.

No. He starts walking to get off of the platform.

“What is he doing?” Your mom mutters, “Silly boy, he's supposed to be heading the other way!”

Your mother murmurs in agreement. “Could it be his opponent’s quirk?”

You didn't quite care as you stood up from your spot and began yelling. “Come on Midoriya! You can do it! Don't give up!”

He was just a step away from the border of the platform when a giant blast of wind came from his hand. At that moment you felt the ghostly pains of your index and middle finger snap. Baby’s-breath grew from your fingers.

You look down at your hand in horror as the announcer screams over the intercom.

"What's this! Midoriya stopped just in time!"

Midoriya was an inch away from the platform, but all your focus was on the flowers that bloomed on your skin. Flowers in the same place as his injuries.

You sit back down, ignoring your mothers as they continue cheering when Midoriya goes back into action. You don't see what happens next, all you hear is that Midoriya won.

On went the battles, but your focus was on your hand and the flowers that slowly fell off as the broken fingers were healed.

When his next match came, you looked up from your stupor. He was fighting a boy who had so far sweeped his way through to the finals. A part of you wanted to cheer Midoriya on, knowing that his match would be a tough one, but the other part was reeling in horror at what would become of his body. He broke his bones using his quirk.

Day in and day out, you had seen flowers grow on you, and you never had a face to link them to.

Cuts, bruises, burns, broken bones.

All from him.

You don't watch his match, all you hear and feel is the shattering ice of his opponent and the flowers that burst from your skin in waves of color. First his fingers, then his arms.

The match ends, and you are left sitting with hydrangeas and hibiscus, poppies and peonies all littering your arms as if you were a living garden.

“Sweetie what happened?” Your mother finally asks from  beside you, or maybe you just weren't listening before. “Could your soulmate be that boy- hey!”

You stand up and push your way through the crowds, running down the line of stairs and around the stadium. The students were in seats across from you, which meant they had to have an entrance nearby.

A door lay in front of you, blocked by several Pro Heroes. You transform into a butterfly, not caring about the pain that rattled through your body at shifting into such a small creature as you fly past their watch and enter the stadium reserved for the students.

You fly past doors marked as waiting rooms until you reach the recovery center.

The door was cracked open, and inside you could see him. He was bandaged up, his body covered in scratches and bruises.

You shift back into a human and slam your flower coated fists on a nearby table.

His eyes open and he straightens up on the recovery bed, wincing in pain when he moves his arms. His eyes were dull with pain, but they had the same light in them as when you had met him for the first time.

Did that light drive him to hurt himself so much?

“You again- how did you get in here?” He sits up properly.

Your eyes are full of tears as you look at his casts.

“You.” You wipe at your eyes, spreading pollen across your face. “I've been a living garden for fifteen years and all you have to say is how did you get in here?”

You can hear the confusion in his voice as he mumbles a small “I’m sorry?”.

Summoning a claw, you pierce the side of your neck and make a thin line.

From his neck, carnations bloom from his skin at the same site of your wound.

His eyes widen in realization.

You both stay silent until you let out a breathy laugh. Now he knew. Now the cogs were turning. You were always so careful to not get hurt to keep from scaring your soulmate, but did he ever put in the same care?

“We’re soulmates..” He whispers.

“For fifteen years.” You repeat silently. “For fifteen years, I’ve had sleepless nights, knowing you were being hurt. For fifteen years you gave me flowers. Looking at flower shops were so painful because they reminded me of you. I couldn't even stand being at my uncle’s wedding because the arrangements reminded me of your pain.”

“I’m-”

You hold up your hand. “Why do you hurt yourself so much? Why go through so much pain? This quirk.. Is it so important for you to become a hero if all you get out of it is pain?”

With blurred vision and eyes stinging from tears, you look at Midoriya who had a quiet look of contemplation on his face. It takes a beat before he looks you in the eyes.

“I want to become a hero that brings a smile to people’s faces. A hero you can rely on.” His Adam's apple bobs as he gulps. “A hero you can rely on. I never meant to make you cry. I'm sorry.”

You slump down to the floor. You hear him squeak and jump down from the bed, letting out a string of “ow’s” before crouching in front of you.

“Really, I’m sorry-”

You place a hand over his mouth and give him a stern look. “Just shut up.”

“Yes ma'am.” He mumbles from behind your hand, his face obscured by the flowers on your hand.

“Ma’am?” A small laugh threatens to escape you.

“I say things when I get nervous..”

Despite the weight of the emotions you had been carrying, you finally laugh.

He leans away from your hand, a blush on his cheeks as you hold you cover your own mouth to try and tame your laughter.

“So um.. Im free Sunday. If you want to talk about how this'll work..?” He questions meekly.

You wipe your eyes and smile. “I’d like that.”

Extra//

You hang upside down from a tree as you watch Midoriya train. He had come over for dinner but as you waited for your moms to finish cooking, you both took to the outside. He had looked to your training grounds in awe and quickly pleaded with you to try out the course.

“It’s my mother’s, not mine, go ahead.” And how could you deny his bright eyes and smile? The damned thing could light an entire city.

He was nearly drenched in sweat by the time he stopped his run through of the course and his small session of shadow boxing. He wipes away his sweat with the back of his hand and sits down under the tree where you hung like a bat.

“Nice huh?”

“Yeah. What does your mother do to have a space like this?”

“She's a hero. But she patrols the west region. She comes back every few weeks to visit us.”

He bonks you on the head as he looks up in amazement. “She's the Transformation Hero Mystique?!”

You quirk a brow. “Bingo. How'd you get that?”

“Lucky guess.” He mumbles sheepishly. 

“You saw her hero costume didn’t you.” You ask bluntly.

He fiddles with his scarred fingers. “I may have taken a detour when I went to the bathroom..”

You turn your head and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Silly boy.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha izuku #bnha midoriya #bnha Izuku midoriya #bnha Midoriya x reader #boku no hero academia Midoriya x reader #mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha izuku #mha midoriya #mha Izuku midoriya #mha Midoriya x reader #my hero academia Midoriya x reader #- beta Zetzal

[liamloveslarry]

The Boy Who Cried Wolf~

okay i’ve posted some snippets below and i’ve kept the general theme the story flows in so far, however it may not make sense as i’ve purposefully left some things out but i think u can get a general vibe from it hopefully, idk let me know what you think bc it’s been ages since i’ve picked this up and i would love to finish and post it soon!

tw for one use of derogatory language, violence, body horror/gore, swearing, experimentation, surgery & fictional medicines, mild nsfw, use of guns but at the beginning - these all sounds worse than they are, but it’s a werewolf fic so there had to be some element of ~horror.

The ground beneath Harry is hard and damp. 

He can feel the wetness soak through into his already sodden socks from where his shoes had come off in the brawl, and it reminds him of being young and spilling ice cubes on the floor, trying to hastily clean the water up with his foot and feeling the cold cling to his toes. 

He squeezes his fists together and bends his head between his knees, breathing deep. 

There’s a chill in the air and the frost nips at his nude body, causing goosebumps to flare in his skins wake so fast it stings as they burst through his flesh. 

His long hair acts as a barrier against the frigid air, but every time he rocks back, the metal bars stood tall behind him hiss against his skin and cause him to whimper and growl. 

He looks up and wraps his arms around his knees, shielding what little modesty he has left. 

He can see two guards standing either side of the cell, each holding firearms in their sturdy arms. Their fingers on the trigger ready to shoot if Harry so much as thought about doing something he shouldn’t. 

There’s another body to the right of him that looks in bad condition. He can smell it before he sees it. The person’s leg appears to be injured judging by the sluggish trail of blood that’s pumping into a puddle on the floor, and there are multiple cuts and grazes across their torso and face. 

Deep enough that Harry can see muscle and bone. Deep enough that Harry can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman.

If he focuses enough, he can hear them breathing. 

Or maybe that’s just himself.

Harry’s feet scuffle on the floor as he tries to get a closer look, but it causes one of the guard’s head to twist towards him and narrow his eyes, gripping his gun even tighter as he opens his big, fat mouth.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He growls.

Harry whips his head up and looks him in the eye. He retracts his arm slowly from where he was reaching out to touch the person’s pulse point and places it on the floor.

The guards face is pinched and sweaty, as if he’d be afraid of Harry if there wasn’t a thick barrier of metal between them. He can hear the hitch in his breath when does so much as blink, confirming the theory further that he’s more afraid of Harry than Harry is of him.

“What am I doing here?” His voice his shot and gruff, a reminder of just two hours previous when he’d been snarling and shouting, trying to tear chunks of flesh from their bodies out of fear while they’d held him down and stunned him into submissive shock.

He doesn’t remember much after being shoved into the back of a truck and led to where he assumes, he is now, cooped up in a dingy cell with a half rotting body and two wankers as company.

The guard punches out a laugh, the tip of the gun clanging against the metal as his body jerks forward. It causes Harry to wince as the sharp sound penetrates his ear drums.

“For a dog I thought you’d be smarter. But it looks like you’re just another dumb bitch.”

Harry’s fingers catch against the grain of the floor as the tip of his claw protrudes and causes the concrete to shift and crumble beneath him. He can’t help the rumble in his chest while the thought to bare his teeth becomes more prominent each second the guard smirks and cocks his gun mockingly at Harry’s head. 

“Calm down puppy, it’s not even a full moon yet so I dunno why you’re gettin’ all hyped up.” 

Harry doesn’t feel himself move but he can see the guard’s eyes sweep across his form, right from the tips of his toes to his hairline as he clenches his gun tighter, which means he now must be standing. 

He knows better than to step forward, knowing he’ll probably get shot if he dares so much as inch his pinky out. 

He can feel his bones shift and his muscles twinge, and there’s a deep throbbing coming from his thigh which he only notices now. As he casts his eyes down, he can see it’s torn and open. There must be something slowing the healing as usually something like that would’ve closed up by now.

“Tell me why I’m here.”

The guard cocks his eyebrow.

“No.”

Harry’s hands clasp into fists and he takes a deep breath.

“Tell me why I’m here.”

He can see the guard smirking, albeit if he narrows his eyes slightly, he can still see his pulse jumping under his skin as if trying to scramble from his body. He shifts his hip slightly to take the weight off his injured leg, causing his cock to slap against his thigh.

The guard’s eyes drift down and this time it’s Harry’s turn to smirk.

“What’s the matter? Never seen one this big before?”

The guards face turns red and he splutters, his pig face scrunching up as if he’d sucked on a sour lemon and he scrambles to point his gun through the bars and at Harry.

“Shut the fuck up you fucking dog! I swear to god I’ll blow your fucking brains out you mutt, you utter cu- “

“That’s enough.”

They both whip their head towards the second guard as his hand inches out and places it on the other guard’s gun, pushing it down slowly.

“You!”, he says, eyes piercing into the other man and gritting his teeth, “need to shut your fucking gob and stop riling Lassie up; and you!”, he turns and sweeps his gaze over Harry’s form, boots coming to rest against the edge of the metal, “need to stop asking so many sodding questions and shut up.”

Harry blinks down at his wet socks and frowns.

“Can I at least have some clothes?”

The second guards gaze lingers on his abdomen.

“No,” he smirks, eyes trailing upwards and resting on Harry’s face, “I’m rather enjoying the view.”

Harry growls out “fucking pervert” and doesn’t think twice before moves his foot forward, which causes the first guard to panic and fire his gun. 

The bullet doesn’t pierce his skin, but it’s made of something hard and it smacks full force him in the chest, instantly knocking him backwards and winding him.

He can see both of the guards arguing and waving their arms at each other, but his hearing has gone woofy so he can’t understand what they’re saying. 

The room is starting to spin and the pain in his thigh and upper chest are getting worse, causing Harry to sway on the spot and collapse onto his knees.

The last thing he remembers is the sound of an alarm before his vision blurs and turns to black.

~

It was dark by the time he’d left the office, nodding and waving at the receptionist who was sat in the tiny booth on his way out. It had also been raining, which Harry realises now he probably should’ve driven in, but the morning had been so frosty and clear with dew drops settling on autumn leaves, that he couldn’t help but walk through the winding paths and bramble bushes to get to work. Even if it did take him thirty minutes.

He remembers pulling his hood up and walking down the road until he reached a narrow ginnel that acted as a bridge between the small town and his house.

It had been here he’d been attacked.

At first, he thought it was just somebody mugging him and he knew it wasn’t best placed to chomp his way out of it, it wouldn’t look too good if a local hooligan had been found with teeth marks imprinted onto his skin, so he’d done his best to ignore him, promptly shoving them off; only to realise there was two of them and one had what looked to be a gun.

Stunned, he’d tried to run but they’d pinned him down and cast a sickening blow to his stomach. It had caused Harry to go into sensory overload as he could smell the cheap cigarette smoke on their collars and their nasty breath wafting up his nostrils, causing him to heave and snarl. It was only a matter of time before his abilities kicked in and his claws and teeth had decided to make an appearance. He’d nicked of the men on his jaw and tried to bite his neck, but the other man held an electric rod against his ribs and shocked him.

~

She’s fair skinned and has light brown hair that’s held up in a ponytail. She doesn’t say much as she checks the stats on the monitor screen, but Harry does his best to smile whenever she looks over at him.

“Hey. What’s your name?”

She startles and nearly drops her clipboard, grasping it at the last second before it falls to the floor. She looks at him wide eyed and says nothing.

“I’m not going to do anything, I promise”. He grins and wiggles his fingers slightly in the straps. “Not like I can do anything, anyway.”

She stares at him for a beat longer and lowers her head.

“Mary.” She mumbles, fiddling with the pen and twisting it in her fingers.

Harry smiles again and tries to get her to look up.

“Mary. That’s a nice name. My name’s Harry, but I’m guessing you already know that.”

She blushes and looks away, busying herself with the buttons on the monitor and biting her bottom lip. 

She’s nervous, Harry can sense it. But if he wants to get out of here semi-unscathed, he needs to play nice with those who so far, haven’t been very nice to him. She seems kind enough anyway, judging by the fact that she wasn’t poking any fingers into his wounds or prodding at his teeth.

“I know you probably can’t say much, and I understand that; I really do, but.” He sighs and looks down. “Please can you tell me where I am?”

She continues to ignore him, taking out a needle and flicking the cap. She pumps it a few times and Harry watches as the liquid inside begins to bubble up.

She goes to inject the tip into his thigh but he catches her wrist just as she was about to press in, claws forming a shield around her delicate bone.

She looks up at him wide eyed, her breathing heavy and scared.

“Mary, please. Please tell me where I am. I won’t let go until you say something.” He can feel her small hand trembling but he isn’t going to give up without a fight.

Her fingers squeeze tighter around the needle and she tries to force the tip into his skin, but his hold is stronger and she lets out a gasp.

“Please stop, you’re hurting me.” 

“I’m sorry, I will, I promise. But not until after you tell me where I am.”

Her fingers seem to seize and stop, dropping the instrument onto the bed and her quiet, shaking voice splits the silence open like a knife cutting through paper.

~

He can smell the winter air and the frost settles in his bones, calming him instantly. He’s also very aware that he’s still in a gown and participating in a full moon event of his own. 

He’s about to step over the threshold when a hand tugs him back.

Harry turns around, and he sees Mary for the kid she is. Barely an adult and shivering in the cold.

Her nose has turned red already.

~

He lets out a ragged sob and pounds his fist against the floor. He tries to move his leg and bend his arms to press against the solid ground so he can at least heave himself up when he notices a beaming light coming towards him. He turns his head and sees through tears, rain and the dirt prickling his eyelids, the headlights of a car that’s heading his way.

The car eventually slows down to a stop in front of him, but he can’t see much through the business of the windscreen wipers and the headlights shining in his eyes. He must look a right state right now, and he’s shocked the car even stopped for him. 

If it was him, he would’ve kept on driving. 

There’s a click and the engine turns off. The lights stay on, albeit they’re dimmed a touch. 

The car door opens from the driver’s side and a man dressed in a parka and joggers hesitantly makes his way around the front of the car.

There’s silence for a few moments until the man opens his mouth.

~

Harry doesn’t know how long they drive for. He’s content to just let the sound of the quiet radio wash over him while he huddles into the blanket more, directing his toes underneath the heater. He appreciates that Louis probably has a multitude of questions he’s dying to ask, but instead he keeps his mouth shut, humming along to the radio every now and then.

They drive through the tiny town of Barnstable and the car jostles as they drive over cobbled streets and the sporadic pothole. The occasional light flickers from the shore to the right of them, but other than that the streets are as dark and as quiet as the night sky.

They tumble upwards towards a hill and Louis leads them through winding roads and sharp bends. On a particularly keen one, the car lingers to one side and Harry’s thigh moves with the turn, bashing slightly against the inside of the car door.

He winces and Louis catches it, sending a look of sympathy his way.

“Sorry, mate. Won’t be long now – another couple of minutes.” He nods down at Harry’s leg which has started to seep blood through the material. “We’ll get that patched up straight away, just try and keep some pressure on it for now.”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods, wrapping a part of the blanket around his fist and pressing it harder against the wound.

~

He grabs some shampoo from the holder that’s stuck to the wall and squirts a generous amount into his palm, rubbing his hands together and lathering it through the strands. He does the same with the shower gel and starts to wash his body as he thinks.

What he remembers from the night feels fragmented and broken, tail ends of memories flashing before they disappear. He sighs and dips his head backwards underneath the water and washes the shampoo out. 

Whatever they shot him with must’ve delayed or hindered his healing abilities as usually anything superficial or worse, only takes around an hour to heal. Granted he’s never been shot before, it should’ve only taken a little longer before it had fully closed up, instead it had gotten worse the longer the bullet had been trapped inside his leg, rooted underneath muscle and skin.

He looks down and feels as well as sees, his skin starting to knit back together. Bits of flesh fusing as one around the stitches like solder to an iron. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to Louis in terms of there no longer being a wound or a scar left in its wake, but he figures he probably doesn’t need to be semi-nude around him again, so he decides not to say anything.

He scrubs the last remnants of dirt from his body and turns to switch the shower off, taking his time to grab the towel left for him on the radiator and wrapping it around his waist. 

He pads over to the mirror and looks at his reflection.

His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his cheekbones look hallow. His long hair is dripping lukewarm water down his chest and onto the floor, but he can’t find the energy in him to do something about it.

~

He spins towards Harry, blue eyes tired and sleepy, with a soft smile etched onto his face. He lifts his arm to ruffle the back of his hair and his arm muscle expands slightly, filling out the sleeve of his hoodie. It makes Harry swallow, a quiet click due to his dry throat echoing through the room.

“You’ll be okay in here, right?” Louis asks. “You know where the bathroom is and there’s some spare toothbrushes in the drawer, feel free to get up when you want and have another shower and stu- oh!” Louis pauses and places his hand into his hoodie pocket, pulling a small box out. “There’s some paracetamol here in case you need them in the middle of the night for your leg – pretty sure there’s a spare glass in the bathroom too, just in case you didn’t wanna stick your head under the tap.” He places the box down onto the bedside table and throws a smile Harry’s way.

Harry won’t need them but he nods and smiles anyway, yawning out a thank you. He forgets momentarily that Louis is still in the room when he starts taking the hoodie off, and only remembers when a cough sounds out against the silence and he whips his head up.

~

Harry unclicks his seatbelt and goes to open the car door when Louis’ hand stops him. He turns back. 

Tired, green eyes meet concerned, blue ones.

“Just.” Louis pauses. “Just be careful out there, okay?” Harry stays silent while Louis’ fingers tighten around his arm. 

It doesn’t feel unsafe.

“When I found you, I thought you were dead. I haven’t asked you what happened because I assumed you’d tell me when you were ready. And you still don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He rushes to say, then pauses to stroke his thumb lightly over Harry’s arm, hair standing to attention and swaying under soft material and fingertips. “So just, be careful. Please.”

His eyes feel like they’re boring into Harry’s soul, each pupil filled with worry and pleading as if for Harry to promise him. Harry doesn’t know what to do, so he gently places his hand on top of Louis’ and smiles kindly.

“I promise. It was just a,” how does he word this “– a bad night. And hopefully it won’t happen again.” He figures he might have to verbalize what happened one day, but today is not that day. Where would he even start? ‘Thanks for saving my life and oh, by the way, I’m a werewolf?’

One headache is enough for now.

Louis looks at him for a second longer and breathes out, squeezing his arm one last time and dropping his hand back down, resting it on his thigh.

“I’ll call you.”

Harry nods and opens the car door, turning back one last time.

“Thank you, for everything.”

~

Making his way through to the living room, he flicks the light on and watches as dust bunnies flit about the air, as if to say welcome home. The machine to the right of him is flashing relentlessly, signifying there are messages waiting for him. He presses the voicemail button and listens as a robotic voice, followed by a woman’s, floats through the speaker.

Beep. Three new messages.

Beep. First Message.

“Hi, love. It’s only me. Just checking to make sure you’re alright? I know you said you had a busy week so wanted to catch up before the weekend.”

Beep. End of first message. 

Beep. Second message.

“Hi, Harry. Me again. Not sure if you got my first message and I know you’re probably having a minute to yourself after work, but just give me a call back when you get this.”

Beep. End of second message.

Beep. Third message.

“Harry, it’s me. It’s nearly 8 o’clock and I haven’t heard anything. I’m starting to worry, will you ring me back, please? I swear to god if something’s happe-yes! I’m ringing him again, he’s not answering, Har-”

Beep. End of third message.

No more messages.

~

If he listens carefully enough, he can hear the hedgehog’s tiny teeth tear through the slop, gurgling as he swallows. Small wheezes puff through his narrow nostrils when he pauses, the spikes on his back sparkling under the stars. Harry’s eyes adjust better than any humans could while his ears hone in on the sounds around him. Voles and mice race through the grass, snatching worms and bugs alike. Owls hoot in the distance while foxes rummage through bins, rubbish galore. He can even hear the moths fluttering their tiny wings as they quiver and vibrate through the dark.

The plate is nearly empty when he hears something snap. Even Bob pauses licking the ceramic to sniff the air; black, beady eyes darting right to left. He must think they’re in the clear when he starts moving again, nifty nose nudging through wet food. Harry continues to watch the garden when he hears another snap. 

This time it’s louder.

Claws replace fingernails and grip the step below him, twists of PVC twirling underneath sharp talons as they’re sliced from the ledge. 

Forgive him for he usually wouldn’t be this on edge, however getting oneself kidnapped and tortured has made even the scariest of monsters slightly fearful.

Though his eyesight is much like that of a hawk, he can’t see anything out of the ordinary. The bushes and leaves sway slowly in the breeze, every now and then a hoot echoes in the distance.

He stops breathing when he feels something brush against his ankle and his claws pierce the delicate skin of his palm; but he realises when he looks down that it’s just Bob nuzzling between his sock clad feet, trying to reach a meaty grub that’s getting away. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his head. He shifts his feet so his three-legged friend can reach his dessert. He decides it’s enough for one night and reaches down to pick the plate up. He stands and casts his eyes around the garden one more time, settling on a tree branch that rests over the fence. He doesn’t know how long he stares at it until he feels the chill of the air whip against his face. Blinking out of his stupor, he shakes his head and lets out a small huff, breath casting white shapes into the cold air. 

“Bed,” he whispers, “just go to bed, Harry.”

~

It’s the middle of the night when he needs the toilet, bladder unrelenting as he shuffles sleepily out of the tent, torch in one hand as he makes his way over to a nearby tree. He’s resting his palm against the trunk when he hears a snap and a low moan coming from somewhere next to him. He tries to hurry his peeing as fast as he can, shaking himself off and guiding himself back into his shorts when something barges into him, slamming him down onto the forest floor.

His head knocks against the ground and he groans, mind going fuzzy. He can’t see for shit what’s on top of him but it’s dark and big and it’s groaning. Rumbling screams clutching at his bones. He tries to shake it off but it’s larger than Harry, at least seven foot and it drags him about like prey. He goes limp and cold, as if his mind is disconnected from his body. All he can remember is a white-hot flash of pain from where the thing had sunken its jaws into Harry’s side, teeth seizing around his rib cage and pulling, twisting, sinking. He remembers trying to scream but no sound escaped his lips. It was like he was watching from above. Watching as his body was tugged and heaved from left to right. Sharp claws scratched and hooked at his hip bones, making sure he couldn’t get away.

He could feel blood oozing out from where he’d been bitten and torn at, and the pain he felt was almost blinding. His fingers twitched at his side until they felt something smooth and hard. In a moment of sheer adrenaline, Harry had lifted what he assumed was a rock and slammed it down onto the thing’s head, once, twice, three times. Until its jaws had become loose and its teeth unclenched from around his bones. Blood spurted onto his face, lining his lips and staining his eyelashes. The thing went limp and sagged against Harry’s body, white eyes rolling back into its split skull as it shivered, seized and stopped.

He remembers pushing it off his body as best he could and trying to scramble away from it, bare feet and toes digging into the soft earth as he pushed himself backwards. He gulped when he hit the back of a tree and lay panting, hands shaking as they touched his side, feeling nothing but hollow bone and air. Looking down there was only red. Torn flesh and muscle protruding and dangling down as if no longer part of his body.

He remembers sobbing as he blinked through the tears and tried to get a good look at the figure lying dead in front of him. Holding both hands against where he’d been bitten and pulled apart like leftovers.

He remembers looking up at the sky above him, the moon big and bold as she stared back at him.

He remembers feeling like he was going to die.

~

A book is placed into Harry’s hands and he looks confused at the two men before Zayn just nods his head at the item, encouraging Harry to open it. 

“What is this?” He asks.

“Just read it.” Niall says, blinking at Harry.

It’s black and the corners are worn. It isn’t a big book either by any means, but it’s chunky and smells of old leather. Indented in gold on the front page are what look to be like nymphs and needles, wound tight around flesh as if both are becoming one. He turns to the first page and registers the thin, waxy paper.

~

Harry nods, doesn’t feel as though he can speak properly before stepping onto the train. His foot barely reaches the entry when his name is called behind him. He turns his head and sees Zayn walking up to him.

“I,” he coughs, looking around him a touch awkwardly, Niall turns away and bends down, pretending to busy himself with his shoelace. “Stay safe, yeah?” 

He pulls something out of his pocket and presses it into Harry’s hand. “Call us if you need us, anytime. I mean it.”

And with that he’s spinning around and walking up to Niall, clapping him on the back and nodding towards the exit. Harry tightens his fist around whatever Zayn had given him and ducks into the carriage, finding a seat near the far back and sitting down.

He rests his head against the cool glass and shuts his eyes.

Tries to keep his racing thoughts from becoming nightmares.

~

Page 37.

Sally.

ne.re.id. sea.nymph. mer.ma.id.

August 13th 1989. 15:07pm.

Found near the North coast of Portknockie in Scotland. Terrain is rocky and waves were at high speed. Out of plain sight to any passersby, however not so hidden she wouldn’t have been spotted by cliff dwellers. Water is salty meaning she has not swum from any freshwater rivers or lakes. Around 250cm in length, including the tail which has been jaggedly severed from fin upwards. The creature is unconscious but has a strong heartbeat. A mixture of morphine and hematide has been administered into the left arm of the creature and she remains stable. 

Despite her long frame, she has a petite torso and fine hair decorating her entire upper half. Subject has dark hair and green eyes. They seem to change to lilac under fluorescent lighting while her pupils dilate. She speaks in broken sentences, mostly garbled hums and high-pitched warbles.

Subject has webbed fingers and sharp nails. Subject also does not have a belly button nor any eyebrows.

Harry’s fingers freeze around the handle of his mug and he places it down onto the table shakily, taking another steady breath inwards. Outside the bin men are talking joyously as the disposal unit crunches in the distance while the neighbours next door are having yet another argument about who’s turn it is on the computer. But nothing registers, and Harry can only focus on the words standing stark against yellow stained paper below him.

~

September 7th 1989. 14:24pm.

Subject ‘Sally’ has been prepped for surgery. Subomunex was dispensed into the subject’s neck gills. We have found this to be most effective when operating on water-based creatures as it releases certain toxins and nutrients to ensure the subject can breathe without the need for H20.

Research into the common cold occurred almost one year ago, and we have found certain elements that make up a nereid’s larynx fight most, if not all symptoms of a ‘sore throat’. Today we shall create a medium incision into the subject’s neck muscle and remove the larynx, most commonly known as the voice box, from the subject’s throat. Delicate strands of tissue and muscle will be removed and sent to the Section B lab where it will be tested and if successful, dispensed into edible capsules and distributed among Pharmacies across the UK. 

A tiny proportion of the larynx’s genetic makeup will be extracted and re-created to ensure there is enough material for us to provide in the long term.

There’s a picture underneath the paragraph of what looks to be a theatre and Sally stretched out along a bed, four doctors are also in the photo, two standing either side of the creature and if Harry squints, he can see their smiles through their surgical masks.

~

“H-hello?”

There’s silence before the other person speaks.

“Uh…is this Harry?”

He doesn’t register the voice and his brows furrow in confusion, nose sniffling.

“Uh, yeah? Who’s this?”

“It’s um, Louis?” the voice replies, “I picked you up from the middle of the road, uh. About a week ago?”

God, has it really only been a week?

All of a sudden, his eyes widen in stark realisation and he clutches the phone tighter in the palm of his hand.

“Oh! God, I’m so sorry, hi. How are you?”

There’s a little huff of laughter and Harry imagines Louis’ eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate. Are you? You sound a little…off.”

Harry leans against the living room wall and rolls his head sideways, “uh,” he glances at the book, “just a sad film, proper got to me, had a little cry as you do.”

~

“I should probably leave.” Harry says, and carefully dislodges Cliff’s head from his leg, placing it down gently onto the couch cushion beneath him. He doesn’t even move, just wiggles his back slightly and twitches his paw from where it’s resting in mid-air.

“If this is about you dribbling on me, I really don’t care. I’ve had worse things on me.”

Harry’s blush darkens, and he mumbles out, “it’s not about the dribble thing, I just think I should go.”

He stands up and makes his way into the hallway, vaguely aware Louis is talking to him, but the words are muffled against the heavy sound of Harry’s beating heart. He grabs one of his shoes and slips it on his foot, patting down his chest and pockets, trying to search for his keys while shielding his face so Louis doesn’t see how red his cheeks have become.

“-think you should just stay the night.”

Harry’s in the middle of slipping on his other shoe, when he braces his arm against the wall to stop him from tripping up, and turns to face Louis who’s piercing Harry with his gaze, despite the warm flush that’s expanding across his face.

“What?”

“I said, I think you should just stay the night.”

“I-,”

“I don’t mean, um,” Louis huffs a laugh, a telltale pink blooming on his cheeks, “in my room, or anything. I meant the spare room again, if you want?” He places his hands into his jean pockets and rocks back a little on his feet, “it’s just really frosty outside, and dark, so I’d feel pretty shitty if I let you drive back now.”

“Lou-“

“Sorry if it sounds like I’m being pushy, I don’t mind, really! It’s just,” he sighs, lips pursing and fingers reaching out to scratch at the chipped paint on the wall, “I’d just hate for something to happen, y’know, like last time,” he murmurs quietly, a sad sort of smile sweeps across his lips and he looks down, shrugging his shoulders.

You’d think what happened that night fucked him up a little too.

Maybe it did.

After all, he was the one who made sure Harry was alright and pulled a bullet from his leg, right over where Harry casts his eyes into the kitchen.

~

He groans and lifts his body to sit upright, leaning down and massaging his leg with his hand. 

He drops his head forward and sighs, insides feeling like they were going to jump out of his skin any second and run off the excess energy without him. He stands up and stretches, fingers pointing upwards towards the ceiling while his back cracked along his spine. 

It felt like a shift, bones and muscles repositioning under flesh, like tectonic plates moving and slotting into the different crevices of his body. But it wasn’t time, and Harry had learned to control the urge quite early on after he’d found himself naked in the local park after a midnight stint, bleary eyes opening to find ducks quacking nervously in the pond and a jogger staring at him with his mouth hanging open; probably wondering what he was doing lying there nude at four in the morning. He wasn’t too far from home that he couldn’t sprint back in time that nobody else noticed him, covering his delicate parts with his hands as he ran through the streets in the milky morning light. 

His clothes had been torn to shreds and he doesn’t remember much, not a great deal of evidence either from the night before other than the dirt that had gathered underneath his fingernails and twigs in his hair. He also felt different somehow, as if his body finally relaxed into itself and took one huge breath out.

~

Louis slides the door fully open then and steps into the room, toes sinking into the plush carpet beneath him. He isn’t wearing anything other than his boxers and Harry’s very aware he’s in just the same. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Harry shakes his head, fingers spreading out along the bed and clutching at the tight bottom sheet, trying hard not to think about how Louis’ shut the door behind him, not fully, but just enough to bathe the majority of the room in moonlight and heavy whispers.

“Me neither.” Louis huffs, lips morphing into a small smile and feet shuffling forward. “Feel like my body’s just pent up, y’know? Usually I’m out like a light.”

“Same.” Harry replies. “My brain won’t switch off so I’ve just been,” don’t tell him you’ve been snooping, “counting sheep.”

“And the bang?” Louis laughs.

“Oh! Uh, I just got up for some water and tripped into the bedside table.”

Harry doesn’t think about how it’s becoming easier and easier to lie.

“Do you need anything for it?” Louis asks, coming closer as if trying to inspect Harry’s foot. His toes scrunch inward under the careful scrutiny, as if they don’t want Louis to see how unblemished they really are.

There’re only a few feet between them now and Harry can feel the sleepy heat radiating from Louis’s body, can count the chest hairs that sit between his pecs and can smell the fabric conditioner of his bed sheets caught up in the hairs on his arms.

“No, I think I’m good.” He swallows, throat clicking and fingertips twitching beside him as if they’re aching to reach out and feel just how soft Louis’ skin is underneath quivering patterns of swirly flesh.

“Okay.” Louis whispers, eyelids blinking slowly, heavy with heady want, tongue inching out to lick his dry lips.

#the boy who cried wolf #mine #pls dont post this anywhere #i know its long but it would be lovely if u could tell me what u think #i know its a little different #sally is my fave but im biased #sorry not sorry for leaving it on a cliffhanger