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frozenjokes · 3 months

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Toys Like Tape Measures (And A Brand New Splint!)

tw for drugging, though only in the medical sense. however, because of the language barrier, Mumbo doesn’t understand what’s happening really, so if that makes you uncomfortable I would skip

“Alright, so here’s the deal,” Mumbo heard Scar before he even reached the clearing, and he couldn’t be more excited. Scar was back, (and Grian was there too) he was finally back after being gone all week! “Today we’re going to fix that splint- ope- don’t make that face at me yet, let me explain, let me explain. I promise it will be 100% safe.”

“So many things- so many things, Scar, but you are not a doctor, much less a veterinarian- how do you even think this is going to work? Mumbo won’t even let us touch him, what makes you think anything about this will be safe?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of research, Grian! I’ve talked to every large animal vet I know, and a few fish people as well! This big ol’ bag on my back you’ve been nagging me about has everything we’ll need! Well, except the fish. You’re going to have to catch a few of those.”

“Scar! Fishing in this spot isn’t even very good and you know it, if you needed fish, why wouldn’t you bring any.”

“Forgot.”

There was a small silence before the two humans burst into the clearing, climbing through the path they’d ended up making through the brush by walking through so many times. Mumbo surfaced to greet them, though they were still preoccupied with each other.

“Of course,” Grian groaned, sighing as he threw down his bag, “Guess I’ll get to it then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Scar beamed, patting the other human hard on the back, who made a soft oof sound before scuttling away, moving to hide its face from Scar as it turned a reddish color. Odd. Usually Grian would yell at Scar for doing something like that, rightfully so (Mumbo still didn’t understand why Scar would randomly hit his friend), but instead Grian was far more meek. Had something happened? Maybe since Scar was hurt, Grian was taking a more passive role than normal. Mermaids were gentler with sick friends as well, and Mumbo knew quite well he could get away with more when he was unwell.

But it was good to see Scar looking healthy. His shoulder was still bandaged, visible under his shirt, but he couldn’t be feeling too badly given his bright demeanor, and his movement didn’t seem to be impaired at all. Thank goodness.

If it was even possible, Scar brightened further when he spotted Mumbo, happily throwing off unnecessary clothes before hopping right into the water, showing absolutely zero signs of fear. Oh, that was a weight off Mumbo’s back; he didn’t even realize how worried he was about Scar being afraid of him until now, until Scar very clearly wasn’t. Good, good..

Mumbo met Scar in the shallows, deep enough that he could keep his tail from dragging on the sand, but shallow enough where he could navigate with his hands; he was in near constant pain even with a week to recover, and while slow, pulling himself along the bottom with his hands caused the least agony on his tail. His splint was sufficiently broken now, only getting more uncomfortable with every passing day. At this point, Mumbo was just waiting for it to fall off; trying to figure out how it was attached was far too painful, though he had tried briefly a couple of times (with little success).

“Hello, Mumbo!” Scar greeted him, “I’ve got something you’re going to like. I’m pretty sure you like human stuff, so you’ll get a kick out of this.” Scar held up a small silver object, round, but not quite circular. Mumbo moved to get a closer look, though he couldn’t lift himself very far out of the water, so Scar crouched down to get it closer. “Tape measure.”

Mumbo squinted. “What.”

“Tape measure.” Huh. Weird word. Usually human words weren’t that long, though, maybe Mumbo had only learned the shorter ones. Was this a human tool? Mumbo attempted to snatch it, but Scar was faster, jumping back with a surprised look on his face. On his perch, Grian laughed.

“I told you! I told you he’d try to take that, and you won’t be getting it back.”

“Well he can have it if he wants, but not before I’m done!” Scar huffed, then turned back to Mumbo, speaking sternly, “No.” Mumbo stared, unamused. He could have guessed Scar didn’t want him to have its human tool, that didn’t change the fact that he was going to take it.

“Scar,” he tried, reaching out a hand a little slower. Maybe it wouldn’t see? ‘Your human object. Give me.’ he continued in a whistle due to the lack of human words, but Scar only huffed, an incredulous smile across its face.

“No!” Scar repeated a tad more forcefully, but Mumbo could see the smile on his face, he knew well enough he could keep trying. Mumbo moved a little forward, hoping to get within reach, but Scar stepped back, then back again, rolling his eyes, “You’re going to make measuring you really difficult, Mumbo.”

“Yeah,” Grian said from across the way, a small laugh in his tone, “I’d say I’ve got plenty of time to catch something.”

“You will, but this is not the reason!” Scar yelled back, pointing an accusatory finger, but the smile never left Scar’s face, and soon his focus was squarely back on Mumbo (who definitely hadn’t tried to snatch at the device while it was distracted).

The tool made a soft whirring sound as Scar pulled on one end, a flat yellow line appearing from inside the device, then snapping back when Scar let go. Whoa. What was that? What was the purpose? Scar moved a little bit closer, pulling the yellow line further this time, but when Mumbo managed to touch it, the line snapped back into the silver device with a sharp crack. Huh. Was it alive? Maybe it was shy? It looked a little bit like a snail..

“What.” Mumbo said, hoping for more information, but Scar only put his hands on his hips, making a show of his annoyance.

“I can’t show you if you keep trying to take it from me!” Nonsense. Guess Mumbo would just have to take it to figure it out for himself.

The next thirty minutes was an odd dance of Scar struggling to keep his distance while also trying to line up the tape measure with Mumbo’s body, and Mumbo would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying the game. The tape measure hurt if it snapped back on Mumbo’s hand, but if anything, that only made the game more exciting. Even with the limited use of his tail, he found himself splashing far more than usual, a certain recklessness brought about only by play. He didn’t even want the tape measure anymore (lie), he just wanted to keep up the game. Scar did not like the game as much, less and less as more time passed, but Grian seemed amused at least, occasionally looking over to laugh when Scar stumbled or outright fell over.

“I could use a little help here if you don’t mind!” Scar called, and Grian laughed again, the sound coming out more like a cackle.

“I thought you had it handled? You kept insisting you were fine, what changed?”

“He just won’t stop moving! Listen, I’ve measured plenty of animals, but they don’t usually have hands! He’s being impossible- he knows I’m not trying to hurt him and he knows I need him to stay still and he’s just not listening! On purpose! This was supposed to be easy!”

“He looks like he’s having fun, I wouldn’t want to rain on his parade.”

“Grian! Help me!” Scar cut himself off with a yelp as Mumbo lunged for the tape measure, but he didn’t get far with his limited mobility, so Scar stepped easily out of reach. He was lucky Mumbo couldn’t use his tail, lucky. With another short laugh, Grian got up from where he was fishing, making his way gingerly off the rocks and giggling as he went before stepping into the water as well. Ah, so another challenger joins the fray!

Though, with Grian holding one side of the yellow line, Mumbo couldn’t quite grab at it anymore, the whole thing bending and snapping like it might break in two if Mumbo wasn’t careful. And that wouldn’t do, no no, how could he figure out its purpose if it was broken?

Instead, he stilled so he could watch instead- wow the line went out so far! How much could fit in there? How far could it go? Mumbo moved to follow the humans’ movement, but they seemed to want to pull the line the length of Mumbo’s tail, chirping nonsense to each other the entire time. At least Scar looked excited; it was always nice when Scar was happy, nice enough that Mumbo didn’t mind all that much that their game was effectively over. Mumbo didn’t love how close they were getting, but a small flash of his teeth was enough to get Grian’s attention, who communicated to Scar in Mumbo’s stead.

It wasn’t very long before the two of them were satisfied though, Grian easing the yellow line back into the tape measure. Mumbo took his chance, lunging as quickly as his impaired mobility would allow, but Scar surprised him by turning around instead of jumping away like normal. While Mumbo was scrambling to keep himself from running face first into Scar’s legs, the human tossed him the tape measure, the thing plopping heavily into the water. Mumbo gaped for a moment before grabbing it, but when he resurfaced, Scar was walking toward the shore, chatting away with Grian like the tape measure didn’t mean anything at all. Well.. okay.

No matter! Mumbo had a new toy, and first he wanted to know just how long this yellow line was. The answer was very long. Mumbo lodged one end under a rock and swam as far as the line would allow, and while he was quite impressed with the length, he was even more excited when he let go of the metal base, the whole thing shooting back in the other direction. Yes! Yes! Mumbo did the same thing at least seven more times before getting a little bored, then experimented with the tape measure above the water, where it snapped back much faster. The height of his fun was setting the end of the yellow line under a rock on the surface, bringing metal end to the other side of the cove, then letting go and watching the thing skirt across the water, splashing all the way. He was relatively sure he made some sort of trill or other noise in his excitement, as Scar and Grian’s laughing caught his attention. Mumbo cringed a little, suddenly very aware of their eyes on him, but his embarrassment was short lived, outweighed by the joy of funny human trinket.

Mumbo would have spent the rest of the day playing with the tape measure, but something else caught his eye. Scar was working on something- no, he was making something. Mumbo had never seen a human make something before- not in the way Mumbo liked to do! Scar’s creative process looked very similar as well, which is to say, all the materials he brought were strewn all over the grass, wildly unorganized as he fiddled with different parts. Most of his materials were long metal rods, but there were also some leather looking pieces, and what looked like parts of white tubing as well. What was he up to?

Mumbo shimmied as close to the shore as his tail would allow, hoping to grab Scar’s attention. “What. What. What,” he said in human, hoping the extra emphasis would translate through the repeated words.

Scar looked up, clearly amused, but seemed to struggle with explaining, starting and stopping speaking several times before settling with, “For you.” Not very helpful, and Scar knew it, making a couple of vague gestures at Mumbo before giving up and going back to his project. Well.. that was fine. Mumbo would just have to watch.

Scar was mostly focused on the leather piece, positioning it in a circular way and winding the metal through to create a cage-looking structure. The leather was adjustable too, Scar fiddling with a buckle on the front to make the entire thing wider or smaller. Mumbo was particularly fascinated by the white pieces though, much flatter than the rods, which Scar only weaved through one side. Why? He tried to ask again what the human was doing, but was only offered the same non-answer.

“Oh!” Grian made a surprised noise from his place on the rocks, and Mumbo saw his line tighten. If only he was fast enough to snag whatever was on it off the hook, but alas, Grian was already reeling in a decent sized fish. Scar hopped to his feet and Grian let out a celebratory noise of his own; it was so cute how humans got so excited about every catch. Though, in all fairness, Mumbo would have been quite chuffed catching a fish that size, especially this hungry. Maybe if humans really didn’t eat the fish they caught, they’d be open to sharing.

Grian scooped the fish off the line with a net, maneuvering the hook out of its mouth before walking it back toward the shore to Scar, who cheered all the while.

“Right,” Grian said as he hit the sand, “You want to give this to him? I’m assuming you’re going to drug him or something.”

“That’s the plan. I was considering a tranquilizer, but I don’t want to make this experience traumatic or anything, and hauling a big ol’ rifle out here might put a damper on some of the trust we’ve established. Hopefully this way he’ll just be real relaxed, maybe even take a nice little nap.”

“You’re not trying to put him to sleep? What are you giving him?”

“Not necessarily, but I doubt he’ll be able to stay awake. Trust me when I say he won’t be in pain, definitely not. And I brought a cone, too, just in case he freaks. I came prepared, Grian, prepared I tell you. I’m no large animal vet, but you could say I’ve been quite involved in many a procedure.”

“Scar, what are you giving him?”

“Like.” Scar paused, tapping the smile on his lips, “A lot of morphine.”

“Morphine?”

“Works on fish. Mumbo’s big, he can handle it, and anyway, it’s the safest option for everyone involved. Are you worried about our friend, Grian?”

“I’m not- how did you even get morphine, Scar?”

“Scar’s not taking any more questions at this time, please call back later. In the meantime, hand me that fish so we can get this show on the road. I’ll stay with him as long as he needs me, but I’m not expecting anything to go wrong here. Still, the sooner we start, the better.” Scar got to his feet, taking the fish net from a gaping Grian and heading back to his bag. Mumbo couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but Grian followed quickly after, fretting the entire time. What, was something wrong with the fish? Scar didn’t seem to think so.

Maybe Grian hadn’t wanted Scar to give Mumbo his catch, but Scar did regardless. Mumbo was more than happy to accept the gift, only throwing Grian one mildly guilty look before devouring the whole thing. He didn’t feel very bad, not really; clearly the humans ate well enough, and given he was having a hard time hunting right now, this seemed fair.

Eating only served to brighten his mood, and with the slight weight off his chest, watching Scar continue working on his human device was all the more fun. Grian went back to fishing on his rock, but he was acting more anxious than normal, stealing glances toward Scar and Mumbo just about every time he cast his line. Though, it didn’t take very long for Mumbo to stop caring, far more intrigued by whatever Scar was up to. It was crazy how much better he was feeling; usually the joy of eating didn’t carry so far after a meal, but when Mumbo was this hungry..

And then it hit him; he wasn’t in pain. The lightness he was feeling was from the lack of hurting- oh that couldn’t be good. What kind of fish was that? He hadn’t even looked! Please say he hadn’t accidentally poisoned himself… Mumbo didn’t feel nauseous though. And if he’d poisoned himself, he imagined he’d be feeling a lot sicker. And he had so much energy! Anyone with this much energy wouldn’t be poisoned, that would be ridiculous! He should do something- go somewhere- hunt- he could do anything! … Nevermind.

Not in pain, no, but tired, goodness, maybe he was dying. Probably not. But maybe. Honestly, he didn’t care all that much. Scar was looking at him an awful lot now, though Mumbo wished he would focus on his invention instead so Mumbo could figure out what it was before he died. Hm.. It kind of looked a little bit like his splint, didn’t it?

…

The gentle touch of skin on scales. A presence around his neck, tight, mildly uncomfortable, but not enough for Mumbo to want to do anything about it. A crack, loud enough to frighten him, to open his eyes, but there was no pain, so it must not have been bone. Something was draped over his eyes, dark like home. It was nice. A couple of clicks told him of Forces, big and near and moving; he should probably swim away, but that’d be quite a bit of effort, wouldn’t it. Maybe another time.

His fins rose and fell with the presence and absence of touch. Not unpleasant. Not until they tried to lift him.

Pain like thorns lit his blood, everywhere, pain, pain- Some sort of noise escaped his throat, something animal, and he moved without coordination- it hurt, everything hurt now. Distantly he heard them, humans, why were humans here? Talking, they were talking nothing, repeating the same words again and again, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Couldn’t they see he was in pain? Why weren’t they helping?

Too much time passed before his attackers released him, but wasn’t sitting in the water the same as before. It was awkward, unpleasant honestly, but he stopped struggling quickly. Too painful to move. Too much effort.

He wanted to curl up. Somewhere dark, somewhere enclosed and safe. Something hard stopped his movement. Guess that was that.

But maybe that was fine.

Whatever had been there was gone now. Nothing else was trying to hurt him. That was good. That was enough.

…

The humans were talking. They were loud, Mumbo could hear them, though his face burned just slightly, a dry feeling. Was he above the water? It didn’t much concern him.

“He’s still asleep, Scar.”

“That’s fine. Normal, even. He’s going to be fine; if he was going to have any bad reactions, I’m pretty sure we would have known by now. I’ve been keeping an eye on his breathing, and it’s stayed consistent this whole time. He’s okay.”

“You said four hours. It’s been five.”

“Yeah, for a human on a human dose. I also told you I don’t know exactly how it’ll work on a mermaid. I doubt anyone knows. I gave him quite a bit more than a human dose anyway, and I’m pretty sure he needed it. He was freaking out when we were trying to get the splint on.”

“I just don’t like the fact that we drugged him without being sure how he’d react.”

“I don’t know what else you wanted me to do, Grian. He was not going to let us touch him, and I don’t think there’s any world in which we could have explained what we were trying to accomplish. Tail injuries could be fatal for mermaids, we don’t know. How’s he supposed to eat if he can’t swim? It’s not like we can weigh him. This was the safest option.”

“You really think we couldn’t have explained it to him? He’s smart, Scar, he’s really observant.”

“I don’t know, I think there’s a chance. But what would happen if he got scared? Even a human might’ve panicked, even if they knew every detail about what we were doing. And you know how strong he is- I’ve still got bruises on my arms from where he grabbed me. He could have hurt himself or us completely by accident.”

A long silence. “I know.”

A longer silence.

“So when’d you change your tune?”

“What?”

“About Mumbo. Nearly every day two weeks ago you made sure to remind me how you were totally going to kill him and sell all his parts or whatever, but I haven’t heard a peep from you since Monday. Did you come out here without me and have some sorta spiritual experience or what?”

“I- no. Of course not. I’m still planning on doing that, I just decided I’d spare your feelings and stop talking about it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes! And anyway, with you paying me egregious prices for my fish, I’m not exactly hurting for money right now. So it’s fine. I’m not in any rush.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Stop- stop talking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me.”

“Well, Grian, that’s going to be a problem because you’re right, I don’t believe you.”

“I- how dare you! I am going to do it! I could do it right now even, but I won’t, and not because I don’t want to, but it wouldn’t be fair, not while he’s all drugged up.”

“I see.��

“Stop it!”

“I believe you, I believe you.”

“No you don’t!”

“Shhh,” Scar said, his voice dropping, “No fighting,” he trailed off, and the silence was charged with something new, something Mumbo picked up on even in his half-asleep state.

“No fighting,” Grian repeated softly, “He wouldn’t like that.”

“Mm,” Scar acknowledged him quietly, but spoke no more words, and neither did Grian. That, or Mumbo had just fallen asleep again. Possible, all things considered. That was okay.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #scarian #hermitshipping #it’s there.#mumbomaid au #hermitfic

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imagionationstation · 18 days

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Mismatched Twins AU - Take One

There are some things Donnie knows that he’d be better off not knowing. Such as, how the act of flesh coming together is equally as painful as the sensation of it getting torn apart.

It was like the first time Leo did stitches, but magnified by one million and all over his body. His limbs are still flickering as he gasps in the air that he’d momentarily spent an eternity without, fingers clawing into the rock under his fingertips to stop his swaying body from tilting over. His word is a whoozy mess of blacks, grays, and clouds when he tries to look up.

It doesn’t take his genius to conclude that he’s not in New York.

His eyes sting, lightning pains traveling down limbs as the bones form back before his eyes. He wants to pass out. He wants his brothers to appear out of nowhere to catch him when he falls, letting him loosen his grip on consciousness so he doesn’t have to feel or see the way red muscle is covered by green skin.

But he’s not in New York, which means they won’t be coming.

He can’t let his guard down.

Not until he’s sure his surroundings are safe.

And definitely not until he’s able to find a way home.

It’s what his Sensei would say. It’s what his brothers would do.

Donnie bends down, forehead against the coarse rock.

He gives himself a couple extra minutes to summon his bearings. The trembling calms under the pricking sensation left by the utter agony as it shifts out of existence. It feels like everything is “asleep,” blood flow finding it’s way back through his body, waking up systems that shouldn’t be able to work after getting erased from a reality.

Then he’s as he was before, fine and whole, with the rough surface under his limbs poking into his flesh. Brown pads cover his body and as he cautiously raises himself up, he sees that his straps have returned as well. He checks his belt and finds everything where it should be. He clutches his t-phone even though he has no signal.

Slowly, hesitantly, he touches his face.

His palm does not press against fabric. He lets out his breath, ragged and uncertain, the echo of his own screams taunting him. He can still picture every second, see her demented smirk, hear her apology before she tore him down to nothing.

She tore him down.

So why would she build him back up?

The beginnings of a ringing explosion has him unfurling from his safe position, looking up to the sky. He’s been in his fair share, and it sounds like that detonation range is bound to be massive, as well as destructive. His racing heart tells him that he’s glad to be awake, because otherwise he’d probably never wake back up.

The sky is fully lit, a sphere of colors brightening the gray atmosphere in a way that is both spectacular and obviously highly unnatural for this environment. It’s blinding to stare directly at, so he raises a hand in front of his eyes to cut off some of the glare.

Donnie can hear the reaching echoes of hard metal cracking under the weight of heat and pressure. The force of it would probably take out all of New York in a single blow. So unless it’s a mechanical sun coming apart, he’s pretty sure that he’s witnessing the blast of some kind of nuclear alien weaponry. It’s absolutely gorgeous and insanely brutal and he lifts his t-phone to snap a picture.

Then he spots the debris shooting away from the centre of the explosion, and decides that he should move.

Evacuation of the landing site, it is.

He gets to his feet, half expecting his legs to give out underneath him, but they carry him as he sprints. His instincts are good because a large piece of something lands where he’d just been, smoke billowing into the air.

He reaches a ledge, surface curved in an unnatural- or, maybe completely naturally for this dead habitat- way. He turns to go back.

Then he sees the ginormous, smoking ball of black headed towards him. Living his number one priority, he pulls his grapple from his belt, aims it at a rock and fires.

He tugs once it catches and then pulls himself up.

He reaches the curve off the top, panting, and looks up.

“yaAAH-” A spinning projectile appears out of nowhere and tries to take off his skull, but he brings his head into his shell, almost losing his balance as it whooshes over him.

He watches it, as the blur of silver and blue hits the ground and scrapes away from him. It’s a sword, plain as day with a hilt covered in collected dust. He moves toward it as blue markings glow faintly, reflecting in curious brown eyes, and he makes the choice to grab it for the road. If not for any other reason, then shiny.

The thunderous crash of matter meeting rock consumes his surroundings, quaking the ground underneath his feet as he spins to face the behemoth of a sphere. It drowns out the vocal roar of fury that reverberates with as much destructive power, warning him to get as far away as possible in a similar frequency.

He looks back, startled as he spots the tall creature throwing out it’s arms, and then faces the wreckage. The rocks crumble and bow back underneath the sphere, and if that is a shell of a radioactive alien bomb, he’d much rather be going in the opposite direction. Between the shadow of a figure over his shoulder and potential alien contamination, he thinks he’s more comfortable facing the anger.

An easy decision made, he darts for the leen, black figure that’s dotted in bright red. He’ll just go around. Ninja stealth, guy won’t even notice him.

It stalks towards the rock, lumbering steps swaying the body. It’s mouth doesn’t move but he can hear the bare inflictions of a voice from where he is, fist raised before it’s slammed down. He slows, momentarily, as he wonders why the creature is taunting the rock, before a limp form comes into view. It’s pale green with a plastron that cracks under the force of the blows, not even half the size of its assailant. The blue mask catches his attention and he changes direction without realizing.

The turtle is unmoving except for violent flinches as the creature unleashes a whiplash of pain, slamming down on the shell and face of the defenseless form over and over and over.

Donnie doesn’t know what’s going on, but he doesn’t think anything is worth that kind of abuse. He tosses the sword, grabs his bo, and reaches in his belt.

“YOU WRETCHED- LITTLE-“

Donnie crosses the distance, tosses his smoke bombs, and swings.

“PE-!”

Fists are combined as one and raised in the air, brought down as a smoke bomb slams into his face and shoulder. They explode upon impact and cover the body, sending the creature into a fit of coughs, stumbling back as arms wave to get rid of the purple cloud.

The admittedly intimating creature only seems to get bigger as Donnie gets closer, so he comes to a stop a fair distance away when it bellows, “WHO DARES-!?”

It whirls, locking its gaze on him, and he waves.

Either his presence or his action makes it pause, a blatant confusion on it’s disgusted expression, and Donnie takes in who he’s facing.

Evidently the face where a face should be is for decoration. It’s actually a purplish creature in the chest that’s dawning a metallic suit and beating another life form to its heart’s content. It reminds him of a Kraang with an insane growth spurt and a thirst for violence.

He points to the sky, keeping its attention on him. “That wasn’t either of you, was it? ‘Cause I don’t think that’ll help the environment any.” He looks around, at the endless expanse of rocks. “Not that there’s much hope for this place.”

The creature looks to the turtle at its feet and then back over to him, as if the notion that there might be two mutant turtles in existence was too much for it to comprehend. He’s in for a big surprise then…

“There are MORE of you?!” It moves, suddenly, slamming a metallic foot onto the turtle’s chest. It pins him against the rock, drawing a weak cry. “HOW!? How did you hide this from ME?! It’s IMPOSSIBLE! I saw his memories- I know EVERYTHING about your PATHETIC FAMI-!”

Donnie moves before he finishes his first line of questioning, launching himself at the metallic leg. He kicks, but that does not budge the grip like he intended, and he bounces back off, flipping onto his hands and then to his feet. The action turns it’s glare on him, snarling, and he laughs nervously, “That… Didn’t work.”

“YOU!” He looks to the explosion, and then back to Donnie. “How did you get here?”

“Um.” Donnie doesn’t know how to answer that. He climbed a ledge? There wasn’t exactly a fence keeping him out. “Like it’s hard?”

The turtle squints at him and the creature looks supremely ticked off. Now if only he could separate them…

Donnie whirls his staff into a defensive position, determined to get the cruel creature away from the poor mutant. “Also. Pretty sure that’s none of your business.”

“Then I will make it my business.” He tears the points of his feet from the rock- ah, that’s what prevented his momentum from shifting the metal. Duly noted- and he sneers at the turtle that falls onto its plastron, leaning on it forearms, breathing heavily. “Then I’ll come back to deal with you.”

The turtle doesn’t answer, and Donnie feels the rocks shake as the creature stomps towards him. The surface clearly isn’t stable, something that he makes note of as he puts a few steps between them. This isn’t going to end well.

Already died once today. Why not make it a second time?

“Now then.” It leers, smirking down at him. “Let’s see your failed attempts at heroics before I teach you true strength.”

“See, I could do that.” He muses because that’s a very likely outcome of how this fight is about to go. He pops his blade. “But I’m not really big on failure or pain, so I’d like to give winning a try. Or at least surviving. What do you say?”

The suit swings and Donnie raises his staff, the pieces coming apart in his hands as it hits his plastron. He stumbles back, yelping when it grabs his leg. It’s a lot faster than he originally anticipated and it hoists him up in the air, very likely about to give him a harsh introduction the ground. “OKAY! THAT’S A NO!”

Donnie reacts first, face to face with the sneering creature, blade meeting purple flesh.

It squelches upon impact and the mass of yuck screeches in pain, throwing him and allowing him to roll to his feet.

One of Sensei’s very first surface lessons.

Don’t fight the armor. Fight the man inside.

Or, alien, in specific cases.

He darts away and grabs the sword from the ground, hiding it behind his shell. He glances to the turtle that has risen to his feet, relying heavily on the rock for support, staring at him instead of running like any sane turtle would do in this situation.

Donnie looks to the furious alien as it places a hand over where the suit’s heart definitely is not and roars, “YOU DARE WOUND ME?!”

“You… Did try to wound me first.” He points out helpfully.

The creature charges. He throws a smoke bomb as it lurches for him, barely avoiding the claws. He crosses the distance while it swipes blindly at the smoke, overcome by fury as Donnie drops next to the startled turtle.

“Blue and blue.” He slips the hilt between the fingers not clutching something, and offers, “I’m going to assume this is yours.”

“You can’t beat him.” The turtle warns, staring at him with wide eyes as he bears his weigh on shaking legs. Donnie exhales in exasperation. Tell me something I don’t know.

But, if this turtle has a family somewhere in this wasteland, Donnie might as well make sure that he gets home to them.

The genius stands. “I’m only going to be able to distract him for so long. Get moving, don’t look back.”

He throws a smoke bomb far from the turtle’s position. When the creature looks towards it, Donnie is standing in the mist, smirking with a bravo that he does not feel. “I’m not a big fan of bullies. They’re all bark and no bite.” He points a finger in the air. “Lived with one all my life. I would know.”

“YOU WANT TO SEE BITE?!”

Donnie feels the blow before he realizes that hunk of metal even moved, an intense momentum brought against his shell in a blast of fire. It sends him flying, tumbling and rolling on the ground, only stopping because the creature appears in front of him, snatching him up to throw him into a tall rock formation.

“That-” His breath quivers, dizzily watching the creature split between one robot and two. “That was not fun. Oooh. Wow. Yep.”

“You will tell me how you arrived.” The creature snarls, finally only one armor. “Or I will pry the information from your brain myself.”

“Whether or not you do the torturing, information would be pried from me since I don’t particularly want-”

The metal fist swings down and Donnie rolls forward, jabbing into flesh seconds before metal fingers stab into his arm and wrenches it back out. It rips the blade from his hand, crumbling the wood between its fingers, metal bent when it hits the ground. Pain burns up Donnie’s arm and scarlet trickles down skin as the pinprick eyes lock on him, sharp teeth visible as Donnie kicks out, hitting metal chest and failing to get him to release.

“You pests never tire of your weakness. Filth does not deserve to rule with Krang, nor the sweet relief of death.” Donnie freezes, taking in the inflection in the name, watching as a wide grin locks him with deadly intent. “Let us show you how it feels to suffer instead.”

Donnie hits the ground. Once, twice, three times- his shoulder takes the force of the blow, and he’s sure it’s fractured by the time that Krang decides to forcefully return him the ground. His world spins, pain blossoming along his arm, and he knows that he only has one chance for survival.

“Oh please.” He forces, voice cracking with nerves. Please work. Please work. “Save the big bad routine for someone who cares.”

Krang slams a fist down, hard, and he hears the crack under his carapace. Lightning burns up his chest, igniting agony where metal met protective scutes, and it’s getting a little hard to breathe.

He almost regrets not choosing the alien bomb. Almost.

Donnie summons his inner Raph, rolls his eyes, and croaks, “You hit like a whimp.”

The Krang roars, fists combined and brought down in one brutal blow. Donnie rolls at the last second, the armor slamming the ground beneath him, splitting open the cracks that Donnie’s carapace had already made on the unsteady surface.

His grappling hook comes out and he swings as the ground opens beneath them and gravity drags the Krang down.

It’s deep, and if he goes down, there’s no way either of them are getting back up. He grabs onto a piece of the edge that hasn’t fallen in yet, painstakingly dragging himself up even as fire eats away at his shoulder and blood smears on rocks.

He cuts his leg but keeps going, dragging himself across the surface, deflating onto a large, cool piece of metal. He keeps his arm around it, grapple in hand, catching his breath and staring into the chasm of the Krang’s own making.

Something crumbles within it as the Krang roars.

Then, a blur of black is leaping onto the edge of the surface, dust billowing out with him. He lands, walking forward even as the ground crumbles behind him. Donnie scrambles back upright, hand on his shoulder as horror leaps from his racing heart and into his throat.

He retreats as the Kraang covers the space. “You tried to defeat Krang with a hole. How desperate. How utterly, irredeemably, weak.”

Donnie shakes his head in disbelief as the Kraang grabs the rock tainted in blood and raises it above his head. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

“Actually-!” Donnie is tackled, thrown onto the ground as his world flashes blue. He looks up in shock, to a blue mask faced away, grinning with bloodstained teeth.

They’re suddenly several feet away, but the Krang is catching up fast. “Would you look at the time! Places to be!”

“GET BACK HERE-!”

“Rain check on the brutal death!” The hand trembles as it tightens around the hilt. The turtle’s red stripes glow in tune with the sword, every mark on metal and skin lit with a power that seems to explode outward from the blade. “Adiós!”

Donnie is swallowed by blue.

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atmilliways · 10 months

Text

Wrong On The Money (21-22)

part 21 & 22 of ?? | 691 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

“If things start to go south, I mean at all,” Steve had said, looking directly at Eddie, “you abort. Okay?” Things start to go south, and Eddie cuts the rope.

Two chapters today, partly because they're both pretty short but mostly because this is the bit where I get to be cruel, but not so cruel that I leave it like this for more than a day. (There will be a happy ending, I promise.)

21.

“If things start to go south, I mean at all,” Steve had said, looking directly at Eddie, “you abort. Okay?”

Things start to go south, and Eddie cuts the rope.

“Draw the attention of the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two.”

It’s been longer than that. But if Eddie doesn’t draw them away from the gate then those things are going to get out and go for Dustin, too.

Dustin, who is screaming at him not to go. Too late to turn back now, though.

“Don’t try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just decoys.”

Eddie slams out the trailer door and scrambled for the nearest bike, careful not to let the butt of his spear catch in the spokes as he gets it up and moving. This is the stupidest, most suicidally insane thing he’s ever done.

“Absolutely,” Eddie had replied. “I mean, look at us. We are nooot heroes.”

He remembers those words as he pedals for his life. But that he remembers after he falls, and fails to run, and turns to face the gathering swarm, is Dustin.

Dustin asking about Wayne every once in a while, all serious, but brightening whenever there was good news.

Steve talking about Dustin being upset, with a twinge in his own voice that suggests Steve wanted to fix it for the kid. Can’t bring back a dead dad, but keep a friend’s uncle from dying? Sure.

Dustin wanting him to think that Steve is a good guy now, and not even being wrong.

For that little butthead, Eddie braces the butt of his spear and raises the last remaining shield—the one Dustin had made. He faces the bats with a scream.

22.

“I mean, look at us. We are nooot heroes.”

Steve is dead tired. His neck hurts even more than after the bats, to the point where talking hurts a bit. He wants to lay down and sleep for a week somewhere bright and cool and clean—or, barring that, at least somewhere quiet.

Nothing is quiet right now, because Dustin is screaming and Eddie isn’t moving and none of it’s and Steve has to fix it.

“We are nooot heroes.”

CPR. He still remembers how, from lifeguard training.

God, there’s so much blood. It’s all over Eddie’s face and gets in Steve’s mouth, the worst parody of a first kiss.

“Nooot heroes.”

He can’t run well. Not weighed down with Eddie in his arms, after how he’s been thrown around tonight, on so little sleep for so many days. He tries anyway, careful not to stumble on vines or the bodies of fallen bats, because they need all the time they can get. Eddie needs bandages and new blood and probably stitches—needs a hospital.

“Steve,” Dustin wails, limping behind him supported on either side from Robin and Nancy. “Steve, is he going t-to. . . .”

“He’s not,” Steve calls back, so firmly that he can feel Robin’s eyes on his back as though she can see and judge all his secrets.

“I mean.”

Getting through the gate is agony because it takes so goddamn long. But Nancy is right, they can’t risk making Eddie’s injuries any worse. It has to be done carefully.

“Look at us.”

Steve floors the accelerator on the RV. Beside him Dustin curls up tight in the passenger seat, stripped of his bloodied ghillie suit down to a hoodie and jeans, favoring his injured leg. Poor kid looks like he’s still trying to catch his breath.

Eddie is laid out in the back with his belly and side chewed open all the way up to his left cheek while the girls try and apply tourniquets as best they can.

This is Barb all over again. Not the blood, just—Eddie could go at any moment, and there’s nothing any of them would be able to do about it.

The tremors in Steve’s hands are disguised by his tight grip on the wheel. He doesn’t tell anyone; no one else can drive this fucking boat, and if they’re not driving then Eddie dies. Steve can’t handle any more death on his hands.

“We are nooot heroes.”

#angst with a happy ending #steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #(the memory of) barbara holland

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princelylove · 7 months

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Totally agree with the sadism Noriaki (fanart usually drawing him too soft lol). I love how he always have image of an honor student, who couldn't done anything wrong but actually he is so much worst, a sadistic pervert. Jotaro is also a pervert but he is hide it well, only when you know him better, he show that side of his more. I think he is opposite of Noriaki on bed (who love sweet and slow sex), Jotaro quite rough, like he realise all his emotion into sex.

Btw beside Jotaro and Noriaki, who do you think like rough sex, and who like it soft and sweet?

Rohan already a weirdo in the manga/anime so I'm not suprised he is more pervert when he is a yandere. Do you think he also use Heaven's Door on you? Like write something about you will be with him forever or he just too confident about his charm so he won't use his stand.

~ 🏵️ anon ~

Rohan is too proud to use shortcuts like his stand. But, you know, taking a little looksie into your brain never hurt anyone. He’s just checking to make sure you’re capable of even liking him in the first place, tweaking your preferences if you don’t… But he really, truly, wants to adjust nothing more than he needs to. It’s beneath him.

Here's a random assortment, but it’s very clear I’m in a part five mood…

Giorno treats you rather delicately in normal, everyday talk. You sort of expected him to be rather affectionate during sex, since he hasn’t made any advances towards you sexually, but you’re sure he’s thinking it every now and then. There’s nothing else that could be on his mind when he eyes you for a second too long, but he’s never acted on it or expressed any sort of desire for sex before, so.. you should chalk that thought up to your frightened imagination. Giorno doesn’t do well with intimacy, he fears it’s the only thing people want from him, so he will avoid it until he’s sure you have absolutely no room to escape him. He holds himself over by insisting the only medical attention you need is from him. Little cuts, God forbid a broken bone, Giorno can fix it all- and he’s happy to. Never mind the fact that he has to break your leg even more to replace it, it’s just how his stand works. If you catch the way his eyes seem to brighten up a bit when looking at your wounds, keep it to yourself. When you finally get him comfortable enough for sex, he wants you to worship the ground he walks on. Become obsessed with him the way he is with you, see him as the young god he is. Trail kisses from the bottom of his feet to his hip and he’ll consider touching you. Sex with Giorno is slow and soft, he’s meticulous, and fully expects that kind of attention to come his way before he’ll consider doing anything to you. Giorno’s sadism rots his brain if he denies himself what he craves, and, could you really hold it against that pretty face of his? He wants you to bleed out, he wants you to writhe in agony, show him you’re a living being that can experience what he has to offer. He won’t hit you, but he’ll use whatever tools he can to make sure you’re aching by the end of his little indulgent sessions.

Guido’s a bit of a masochist, but he doesn’t like all that dirty, degrading talk, he just really loves the physical pain. Talk to him like you love him while you’re digging your shoe into his chest and he’ll just fall deeper in love. I cannot see him as anything other than submissive, he just wants to do whatever you wanna do. Guido will roll on his back and take whatever you’re gonna give him as long as you reassure him that you’re doing it out of love and don’t resent him for snatching you up. He’ll give you head, he’ll let you penetrate him, he’ll do anything to keep you happy. The way he smiles as you’re carving a heart into his chest is chilling, if anything. This is the same guy that would track you down no matter how far you went- passione’s bloodhound. Yet here he is, face flushed like he just received his first nude picture, looking at you as if you’re walking down the aisle for him and not figuring out how to get this shitty carving job you're doing to scar as long as he wants it.

Prosciutto’s using you for stress relief. He’s the type of man to make you wait on him hand and foot, literally. He gets off on your subservience, it’s exactly what he knew he wanted when he first got a reaaal good look at you. He doesn’t really care about after care, so you’re on your own to get your wounds all cleaned out. Prosciutto will backhand you if you file his nails wrong, hard. You know how much of a pain it’s going to be to get this filed correctly? Are you such a stupid whore that you can’t take your mind off of him for five seconds to do him the little favor of making his nails all nice and neat? He’ll forgive you if you get on your knees and beg for him to not be mad. If you’re stupid enough to actually get on your knees, you’ll figure out what italian leather tastes like.

#yandere jjba #yandere prosciutto #yandere guido mista #yandere giorno giovanna #tw objectification #usage of “whore”#tw degradation #request granted

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dotchi18 · 7 months

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Hi! I like your writing :) I dunno if you're still doing the flower prompts, but could I request H (hyraendga) with the demon of your choice? If not, then have a nice day :))

Hey there!

Thank you so much for the compliment, sure you can request that!

It was a bit tricky picking a demon and a situation, so I kind of took an embarrassingly long time, but I Hope you like this! :D

H - Hydrangea (heartfeltness, gratitude): “I thank every divine being that exists for having guided me to you.”

Yandere!Asmodeus x Reader

(Anyone who says regular Asmodeus is plenty Yandere is absolutely correct, but since the Flower prompts are Yandere, I might as well tag him with it <3 )

Also, I usually put the prompts at the very start of the Yandere with the first meeting, so I thought it would be nice to put it a little further in! <3

Warnings: Mentions of Reader Death, Manipulative and Delusional Behavior, Reader being Called 'Darling' and 'Hon'

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

When your senses came back to you, your entire body pulsed in utter and complete agony.

Where were you?

Honestly the effort it was taking you to open your eyes led you to give up on that pretty quickly, you can get back to it later.

What was the last thing you remembered?

You remembered exiting a store with your friends and walking along the sidewalk, but what happened after...

You weren't too sure.

It was then, laying where you were, you heard humming.

Cheery and in tune, it was a sound from a voice you remembered.

Your friend.

It was your friend Asmo.

With an effort that felt like you put a crowbar under them, you finally forced open your eyes.

The first thing you saw was pink-red sheets you laid upon, the smoothness really blossoming on your skin now that things were coming back to you as your eyes casted up.

And there he was, sitting on a chair with a pink seat and a barred back in the shape of a heart, clad in a fluffy robe you recognized.

You had joked in that robe he looked like someone who was 'mourning the 'mysterious' disappearance of their rich husband'.

It was fluffy around the edges, almost angelic in vision as the rest of it hugged his slender body as he was slowly peeling away his face mask to smooth skin, admiring his beautiful face with his champagne-colored eyes until his eyes turned and met with yours.

His whole countenance brightened and he pushed away from the table, turning his body to you as he beamed.

" Oh my Darling, How wonderful you're awake!"

He strode over almost toe to toe causing a swing to his hips, his eyes sparkling as he pressed a well-manicured hand into the blankets before you.

" How are you feeling Hon? After what had happened, you're going to need some rest."

What was he talking about?

" What happened?" You finally managed after some pause, your throat feeling achy, " Where is everyone else?"

" Oh Darling, don't worry about anything else anymore." Asmo ran his other hand over your hair, combing his fingers through it in a soothing gesture that made your eyes feel heavy again, but you fought off the comforting gesture for some answers.

" No, Asmo... what happened?"

He sighed indulgently as if you had asked him thing, reclining right beside you as his eyes stared into yours with a small smile on his face.

" You died, Hon."

The words were like receiving a cold splash of water to your face, your body jolting as you sat up, pain blistering through you as you gasped, Asmo's eyes wide as he sat up with you, his arms wrapping around you as you shook. " Shh Shh... Darling, it will take you some time for your body to adjust to what happened-"

" I died?"

Your head pounded as you tried to think about what had happened just earlier.

You had been walking with your friends... You all had just went browsing in a store, Asmo was there as well, you remembered that.

You remembered walking down the sidewalk, talking and laughing with your friends.

And then you remember looking beside yourself to Asmo.

He was holding a drink in his hand, something that he had offered a sip to you earlier, the taste on your tongue as he smiled to you, a smooth, knowing smile.

Then you felt his hand, so manicured and delicate looking, go to your shoulder, and with a force your mortal brain couldn't comprehend he shoved you.

You remembered stumbling over the curb in surprise, and then... everything went black.

Your body felt like ice, and you were unsure if it was because you were dead or if the blood you had simply just went cold from the realization.

" You?"

" Aw Hon, don't look at me like that~" Asmodeus huffed as he sat up, the look of betrayal on your face making him pout, " It was the only way for me to preserve you as you are.

Waiting any longer and who knows what might have happened to you, you know?"

His tone was almost scolding, as if you were a doll that someone could handle improperly and bring you back in a worse state than the perfection you already were to him.

" What in the hell is going on?" You were too stunned to do much at the moment.

Why were you here?

Where was here anyways?

You were definitely angry, but what could you even do with all of that when you were dead?

" Hell is a rather correct term my lovely!" Asmo giggled as he stood, his attention still fully on you, " You see, this is probably hard to believe, but I am a very important person in this place, and I just had to pull a few strings to get you right here, where you belong!"

You could only stare at him in shock as Asmo laughed and went back to the make-up table, cleaning up what he had worked on, glancing in the mirror for a moment before grabbing at a few more things, gathering it as he snapped his fingers and you felt your upper body being lifted from the bed as if a doll being picked up by an invisible hand, your body too sore and disused to do more than hang limply as you tried to shake your head.

" Why? "

" Why? Well why not?" Asmo flounced back with a smile, placing a few silk pillows underneath you to eventually prop your head up as he unscrewed the caps to the make-up he had brought over and laid by himself on the bed, gently gripping you by the jaw, where his warm and soft hands made contact filling you with the feeling of pins and needles as he rubbed against your flesh, trying to massage feeling back into it, but putting more effort into the make-up he brought.

" I do love you so much after all! Now, I know you're upset, but you'll get over it."

Your mind was a mess. How does one even comprehend the horrible mess one was in?

It was hard enough to truly believe in a life after death, but to know that you were in Hell, and a friend of yours specifically sent you there for themselves, it was too much.

The make-up felt like he was painting a shell upon your face, more than likely because you barely had any feeling in your face, so this new stuff felt unnatural as Asmo happily pampered your limp body.

He wouldn't let you speak when you tried to voice your frustrations, sealing your mouth shut.

" You can vent your frustrations at me when you feel better tomorrow.

For today we're just going to get you all dolled up in a way I know you'll look good in, and we're going to rest together!

Then, we'll see if you're fit to walk tomorrow!"

Tears of frustration burned in your eyes, but Asmo merely smiled his poisonously sweet smile, cupping your face with both his hands this time, mostly settled in your hair and under your jaw to not ruin the make-up, his champagne-colored eyes settled on yours.

" I thank every divine being that exists for having guided me to you.

I'm going to make sure that after everything blows over, we're going to have the best time together!"

A tear started to streak from your eye, and Asmo wiggled a bit before leaning close and licking the tear from your cheek.

" I promise!"

#obey me #Obey me Asmo #Tw Death #Yandere #yandere asmodeus #He's a drama queen #I kept writing about the beginnings of the feelings so I thought #'Might as well jump into the thick of it I guess'#I hope you guys enjoyed #This took literal months to make #Yandere Obey me

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ladylooch · 1 year

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Hi, can you please write a timo meier imagine about incident where timo broke his nose? Reader lives in San Jose and is a Sharks fan and is watching the game when it happens and timo knows she is watching when he is down on the ice, so he thinks about her while he is down and he flies back to san jose after the devils are eliminated by the canes and she sees his nose. She tells him that he learned the hard way to always keep your head up in hockey

A/N: I am dying for some Timo content and something sweet. Like I need sweetness to remind me there is good in the world right now and that the way I am feeling is temporary. So… Here is an attempt.

Word Count: 935

Warnings: Swearing

The last thing you remember before the hit is that the sight of Timo in red is still a little weird to you.

The thought is taken over by pure panic as you watch what unfolds on TV. A sharp intake of breath almost pulls the spit from your mouth down the wrong tube as you watch Jacob Trouba absolutely annihilate your boyfriend. You grip the Sharks logo on your t-shirt in a tight fist.

“What the FUCK!” You scream at the TV, standing on top of your couch, hands dashing through your hair. Your heart is skipping beats as you watch Timo lay on the ice, flat on his back, not moving. “Baby, baby, baby, baby.” You sputter out, fingerprints pressing into your scalp as you begin hyperventilating.

You watch silently, with millions of other people, as the trainer tends to Timo. It’s agony as you wait. Eventually, he is up again, the trainer steadying him. Then he skates off, a bloody towel pressed to his nose.

The rest of the game doesn’t even matter, besides the fact that the Devils sail to the second round of the playoffs. Days seemingly pass before you see his FaceTime call brighten your phone.

“I’m okay.” He says immediately when the call connects. You can’t help it. You burst into tears at the sight of his face. His right eye is already black, deep red gashes fill his nose and you tremble at the thought of what might be wrong with his brain. “No concussion. Just a broken nose and some cuts. It’s okay. Don’t cry, babe."

That night was weeks ago, but when you close your eyes to sleep, you still see it all: the blood, the intensity of his body rocking to the ice, the fear gripping the back of your neck. It makes your stomach twist until falling back to sleep feels impossible.

Lucky for you, the cure of sleepless nights is currently walking to you from his plane ride home to California.

You sway from foot to foot, wishing you could forget it all. Because for the first time in months, Timo is in the same building as you again. You can’t wait to have your arms back around him, feeling the thick muscles of his shoulders through his shirt… then under his shirt.

He walks from beyond the security check point, gaze immediately scanning for you. When he sees you, his grin stretches his cheeks up. He only has his backpack so he hustles to you, weaving through all the other travelers, desperate to get to you. Your feet hold you in your spot grinning back at him, arms at the ready so he can sweep you up. He tosses his arms around your waist, lifting you into his body. He twirls you both around while you hide your face in his shoulder. He smells so good, like home and comfort and hopefully the rest of your life.

“Hi babe.” He sighs, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs as he keeps you up.

“Hi!” You cheese back to him, giddy at how good this instantly feels. All is right in the world again. You lick your lips then press your mouthes together. It’s hard to stay connected at the grins twitching your lips apart. Eventually, you go back to hugging, pressing your faces into one another’s shoulder. The rest of the airport shuffles around, but you two can’t be bothered.

Slowly, you begin to untangle your limbs from him. Your feet hit the floor, but you stay pressed to his front, taking a good look at his face now.

“Oof, baby.” You murmur, running your fingers gently along the fading scars of his cuts. “I guess you learned the hard way to keep your head up.” He gives a slight squint at your chirping. “You look hotter though. Tougher for sure. Maybe I should thank him.”

“Let’s not go that far.” He whispers as he leans down to press your lips together again. You smile into the kiss, enjoying the stroking of his tongue against your teeth. You let him in, sneaking a moan back into his mouth.

“Why did you shave?”

“It was getting itchy.” He murmurs, then rubs his smooth cheek along yours.

“Boo. I miss it already.”

“I’ll grow it out again this summer when we go to Switzerland. Just for you.” He drops multiple kisses to your lips as he talks. Eventually, you start to laugh at his insistent presses.

“You’re so sweet. Wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah, one sec tho.” He murmurs, then leans down to devour your lips again. His tongue strokes a fire in your core. You grip the back of his neck tightly, fingernails creating half moons in his skin there. “When I was on the ice,” he begins, kissing the corners of your lips as he speaks to you. “All I could think about was you. I had to get up for you. They wanted me to stay down and I refused.”

“Babe. You should listen to the trainers.” You whine, closing your eyes and disappearing into the feeling of his mouth on your skin.

“It’s our deal.” He shrugs. “I promised to always get up if I can.”

“I hope that never happens again.” You say honestly, looking at the swinging strands of his sweatshirt hood. He tilts your face back up to look at him. He studies you, gaze dragging along every feature you hate and he thinks is perfect.

“I can’t make that promise to you.” He admits. “But I will keep my head up.”

#timo meier #timo Meier fan fiction #New Jersey devils #my writing #writing request #NHL writing #hockey writing #NHL fan fiction

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blackjackkent · 4 months

Text

The first room to the east in the House of Hope is labeled "Outer Portals" and, true to its name, is full of them:

In order around the room, we have portals to: Athkatla, Neverwinter, Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate, Mephistar, Luskan, and Menzoberranzan.

Hope isn't thrilled with our sidequesting:

"When is a door not a door? WHEN IT'S A JAM JAR!"

"You won't find a way out here. Or a way in."

"What is this place?" Hector asks.

"This is the Chamber of Egress," she says, low and agitated. "The portals here criss-cross the planes, but they won't open to the likes of you and me. This is how Raphael consults with his clients so efficiently, no matter the time, no matter the place." Again that sudden rise to a yelp of agony. "AND IT'S HOW HE STALKS HIS PREY!"

"There must be something useful here," Hector says carefully. He's getting used to the woman's rapid shifts in tone and didn't jump this time, but it's hard to retain his control and not let her agitation stoke his own into panic.

"Oh, there is, there is!" she says eagerly. "If you stare into the portals long enough, your mind starts to do cartwheels and tricks you into thinking you're falling into a horrible yawning void!"

"It's one of my favorite ways to pass the time!" she adds brightly, then stabs a finger at his chest. "But you have no time to waste, or time will waste you! And what you need from the House is in the Archive. NOT HERE!"

And with that, she vanishes again.

Despite the warning, we will of course go poke at everything. Hector has a little commentary on each of the portals, which is absolutely him reciting facts from books he read at the monastery as a way to distract himself from freaking out:

Also had a VERY interesting conversation with the guardian of this room, a grumpy little gnome named Nubaldin:

"The Chamber of Egress - waystation of the Hells, providing access to Raphael's clientele wherever they might make their home. I am its keeper, Nubaldin. Very much *not* at your service."

"Do you know Hope?" Hector asks.

"The greatest pest of all!" Nubaldin grouses. "I've always thought Hope to be a dirty, empty little word. She suits it well."

"Any idea where I can find her?" Hector asks evenly.

The gnome shrugs. "She pops in and out of existence all over the House, but whatever you've seen is just a trick of the light. Her corporeal form is down in the dark, bound by unbreakable chains in Raphael's dungeon. It used to be *my* prison, Nubaldin's very own pit of pain; I was its keeper. But that was a very long time ago."

"Why don't you work in the prison anymore?" Hector asks, more than a little uncomfortably. He doesn't really want to know, but information is information, and information seems valuable while they're trapped in this place.

Nubaldin sets his jaw angrily. "I made a mistake. Raphael doesn't tolerate mistakes," he growls. "We had one houseguest by the name of Gortash, a mischievous little blot of a boy, and he slipped through my fingers."

Hector blinks, so thrown by this information that for a moment he forgets to be nervous. "Gortash was here? Lord Enver Gortash?"

"Lord?" Nubaldin laughs disdainfully. "Is that what he calls himself these days? The sniveling little shit. He was the son of a cobbler or somesuch meager tradesman, sold to Raphael by his loving parents to pay off a petty debt. Lord indeed. I used to bruise my knuckles on his whimpering little face. I'd like to have snapped his neck."

...Yikes. There's certainly no redeeming Gortash in Hector's eyes at this point but that's a pretty nasty origin story.

"You'll be pleased to hear I killed him," Hector says, deadpan dry.

Nubaldin brightens up at once. "You fabulous murderer!" he crows. "Oh, I wish I could have seen him grovel and beg and bleed. Maybe his soul will come to us one day!" He takes a step closer to Hector, his expression taking on a leering aspect. "Such a splendid deed deserves a splendid reward, and there's no better reward in the hells than the pleasures and pains of the flesh. There are few sensations that can't be indulged in Raphael's boudoir. I'm not permitted to enter, but I know a secret way inside. Make your way to the balcony next door and you can find your way inside. Just make sure not to fall. It's a long way down."

Ugh. Hector isn't sure if he feels more uncomfortable with being called a "fabulous murderer" or being told to indulge sensations anywhere in Raphael's fine establishment. However - we DO want to see all the rooms in this place for any information or thievery they can offer up, so this is useful information. (Nubaldin also told us that both Hope's cell and Gortash's former one are downstairs, which definitely adds to our interest in going down to check that out also.)

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle

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the-nexus · 2 months

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"Do not touch me." This, after weeks of up and borderline abandoning the hotel, Charlie, and worst of all, Lucifer. His own husband, the love of his life. His WORLD. "And don't try to give me that pitiful little face of yours, Lucifer. It will not work. Out of my way."

No terms of endearment, no affection, not even so much as a hello after being gone. No... cold, distant, harsh Alastor, with no explanation, no warning.

@radiodaemon

To say Lucifer had been in a state of panic for those weeks would be an understatement. For the first week, he understood the reason. He'd managed to get the idea. It was just like the last time he'd left without warning. But as the next week passed with no sign or word from his husband, and then another, and another, the fear was settling in.

Was the keeper of the chain truly holding Alastor so long? And then another rolled by. Charlie watched on as Lucifer's mask crumbled into hundreds of pieces. Yes, she, too, was worried for the hotel host's safety, but Lucifer's status during this time was very noticeable. She had begun suspecting something was between her father and the demon. They would argue often, sassing one another and telling of their loathing, but when she looked into their eyes during these fights, she saw something she recognized.

Fondness. Adoration. Love.

Their eyes reflected what she saw in Vaggie's gaze when her dear ex-angel looked at her. Not to mention, the pair often disappeared around the same time, returning later accompanied by the smell of blood, sweat, and...well, more. But the princess said nothing. Not to them, nor her friends. Only to Vaggie did she speak of her discoveries and suspicions. And it was the silverette that suggested she let them come to her, when they were ready to come forth.

Charlotte watched on as Lucifer's uneasiness turned to fear. The king had been abandoned before, as had she. But she had the support of her girlfriend and her friends to ease her mind. Lucifer locked himself away, returning with bloodshot eyes and eating less and less. Honestly, he worried that if Alastor didn't return soon, her own father would wither into nothing, left as a shell of his former self.

But finally, after weeks of silence, the Radio Demon return, walking through the door. Lucifer's eyes immediately brightened and he rushed forward, ready to wrap his arms around his beloved, kiss his face, and sob into his chest in relief of his return...

...Only to be so coldly denied and brushed aside. Alastor could be rude, when need be, but this was a whole new level. The look in his eyes, the absolute shock and agony in them, it could make even the most heartless of creatures cry. And Lucifer stumbled back a few steps, giving Alastor the space to pass, the king's head hanging low as he choked back tears.

Charlie, hiding just around the corner, observed in silence, Vaggie at her side. Her eyes widened in astonishment and disbelief as Alastor spoke so coldly to her father. More than a little tempted to confront him for his behavior, as well as disappearance, but she was stopped by her own lover. This was something the two of them needed to work out. Interference on Charlie's part could drive a wedge between her father and his partner.

As Alastor passed the heartbroken king, Lucifer's senses tingled. His head lifted and he turned, watching as Alastor departed. The scent. He knew it. And who wore it.

That perfume.

Only one wore it. It was starting to make sense now. The way Alastor seemed uncomfortable by the mere mention of the blond's ex, the smell that wafted from him, his cold behavior. It was all coming together.

Lucifer understood now...

But Alastor had made it clear he desired no assistance from Lucifer, wishing to bring an end to his struggle himself. But now, at least, Lucifer understood the reason for his husband's cold actions. They were not his own. In all the time they had been together, never had Alastor been willingly so cruel.

He would speak of this matter to Alastor soon, but for now, he would give him a little space. He was sure the demon was irate about what he'd been ordered to do and, in his own time, would approach him later.

He hoped...

"I love you..."

#Muse;;Lucifer Morningstar #radiodaemon #v; Not Even Death Did Us Part [Main]#He's figured it out Alastor #He knows you don't mean it #Be mean all you're told to be #But he knows you really aren't that way #But it still stings him a little right now #Not gonna stop him from loving you tho

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astraystayyh · 5 months

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hi, my love.

I'm not gonna wish you a happy new year because life isn't constant happiness.

but i will wish you a very fulfilling experience, I wish you a gentle year, a life that's kind to you, and a place filled by people who value you for you.

I wish you a view of all of nature's wonders, and I wish you days spent finding small bits of bliss in little things. I wish you specks of pixiedust to brighten up your days. I wish you the warmth of the sun and the calm of the ocean. I wish you the comfort of the earth and the freedom of the wind. I wish you life, my angel.

Most of all I wish you hope and strength to make it through the agony you might have to face, I wish you the constant knowledge of the fact that calm always comes after a storm. healing always follows suffering, even if not immediately. And I wish you companionship of those who will remind you of your brilliance, for you are one of the kindest human to be. and you will be loved.

-nyx

NYX you can't be a real human you're like an angel sent to me, how are you the absolute sweetest person I've ever encountered;;;;;;;; ngl this actually made me cry u have no idea how much i needed these words :((( im actually at loss of what to say, i have so so so much love for you and your beautiful mind and your gentle heart, and i am so so lucky to have ur kindness be bestowed upon me :(((

i wish you a lovely, gentle year my nyx,, filled with warmth and love and the light that you seep in other's lives, i hope you are content with your existence and you find beauty and joy in the smallest things, i hope that waking up every day feels like a gift to you because you deserve it my love <333 thank you again I SERIOUSLY LOVE YOU SO MUCH

#sahar's.asks <3 #stardustlixie #this is like a balm to my soul i know I'll come back to it many many times

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fellamarsh · 1 year

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Scales!

(From the dragon themed ask game by @ashen-crest)

Scales: share a snippet that describes something. (can be a person, a place, a feeling, etc.)

I have such a good one for this! It's for a feeling, and I had so much fun writing it. Gonna share a leeettle more than just the description itself for context and also for fun.

Wherein Kor gets his shit absolutely wrecked:

“Well,” he said, lifting his chin and planting a hand on his hip. “Look who’s returned. What made you—”

The shadow flickered.

—decide to come crawling back to me? was how he intended to finish his sentence.

But Kor couldn’t say another word, because he was burning from the inside out.

Blinding white pain cascaded through him, shattering every coherent thought, his throat clamping around a ragged gasp. It was like he’d been soaked in oil and set ablaze, only the more the fire consumed him, the hotter and higher it burned.

Nothing had touched him, no one had touched him—Mitzli had been across the room—but something had taken hold of him. The pain pulsed along an infinite thread, reverberating, building, brightening—he would scream if his jaw weren’t wired shut, would claw the skin from his face if he could only find his hands!

Kor couldn’t make sense of anything through the agony. He fell to his knees, registering the impact from leagues in the distance. His shadows convulsed around him; he was a large black bird, then a young human, then a long-legged sea bird, then a creature of spikes, of tentacles, of fog—

And he was burning from one end of Lu-nevet to the other despite never leaving the Plum, writhing on the floor of the yellow room that he could barely see.

After what could have been an instant or an hour, a series of sensations filtered into his awareness. A hand clamped around his arm and flipped him onto his back. He located his hands this time, found them scrabbling against the floor, trying to right himself, though it would do no good. He couldn’t breathe. His mouth sucked ineffectually at the air, his chest heaving—and as a weight settled on it, pinning him to the ground, a thunderclap of panic rang through what remained of his mind.

All Kor could make out of the person who had attacked him was a luminous, golden halo, a curling smile—and a voice.

Kor recognized it before he could begin processing the words.

#thanks alex :3 #i am going to respond to your message!! today!!#hierarchy of the unseen #excerpt

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teamfreewill56-blog · 2 years

Text

Billy Kametz you will be dearly missed and we’re thinking about your family and loved ones.

Cancer is a true monster, it puts people through mental, physical and emotional hell and agony. It kills indiscriminately and with many different forms that even though we can fight against some, there is still many cancers we can’t save people from yet. But those people who have to suffer it are always people that really brighten the world. I hope that one day we can find solutions to this monster and defeat it.

Billy had an amazing voice, he was truly talented. His voice acting for Rui was absolutely wonderful, he made our Lower Rank 5 truly sinister and frightening but also soothing in a chilling way. I’m grateful he was able to get into voice acting and share his voice and talents with the world, I hope that being able to have copies of his voice work can bring even a little bit of comfort to everyone who is mourning and missing him.

#forever immortalized in voice acting #grateful for these creators and actors #cancer is a monster and it absolutely destroys its vicitms #billy kametz #you will be missed #thinking of his family

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kazukosmovingcastle · 2 months

Text

Clicking Pictures..and Hearts.

Clicking pictures.. and hearts

Model Lippmann x Photographer Canary

Written with love by: Kazuko

Proofread by: Lumine

Word count: 5013

A hustling, bustling city in Japan. The train seems to be freshly cleaned, with a sterile smell, light pouring in from the overhead lights. The seats, which could never seem comfortable enough, had Canary enveloped in the limited plush. An absolutely beautiful opportunity. That’s all that’s needed in life, right? Wrong, oh so painfully wrong.

After grating out their photography degree for a painstakingly long 4 years, Canary had gotten their first job. It was for an extremely popular agency, something that should have Canary bubbling with excitement and enthusiasm, but they could only feel anxiety and disgruntled about what was about to entail. Not only did they have to take the highest quality pictures possible for some big name modeling agency as their first job, the job also lasted for a full week. Seriously, no home for a week! And honestly, who names a modeling agency The Flags? They groaned in agony at the thoughts, face instantly brightening to a flush pink after being looked at strangely by the countless train passengers.

They clutched their bag to themselves, a small messenger bag which had leather worn by time. Their camera, a small but hardy little thing, sat in their lap. This would be an interesting tale of events. One that Canary felt unsure if they had even wanted to play their hand in, but it was far too late to turn back now. They bowed their head, fingers kneading the old leather messenger bag as they quietly awaited their stop.

Upon Arrival

Well, this is it. They carefully stepped off the train at their station, camera in one hand with the messenger bag slung across their body. Their sharp eyes observed the bustling station, nerves ablaze as they eventually decided to take a sip of water before venturing off on their way to the agency. The bench was cold beneath them, providing sanctuary for them to recollect their thoughts before moving on.

They took a few minutes, before getting up and evenly working their way through the lingering crowd. Perhaps they had gotten distracted multiple times on their walk, staring in amazement at the birds, stores, or cafes. Or perhaps they didn’t. The ladder was unfortunately unlikely, as Canary was now running late. They noticed the time on a clock they passed by, thinking nothing of it before their heart dropped as it set in. They would be late on the first day. That was one awful impression. They instantly picked up their pace, startling an elderly local. They didn’t look back as they clutched their camera to them, making quick work of the 10 minute walk.

They spun the corner, basically ripping the door off of its hinges as they made it in the building with one minute to spare. They panted, catching their breath before they were suddenly aware of the stares they got. They instantly straightened up, collecting themself and cleared their throat. They turned to a confused and startled looking receptionist. “Yes, excuse me, I’m the photographer for The Flags.”

“..So are around nine others. I need you to be more specific.”

That small exchange had brought their blush right back up. Poor Canary, being ridiculed by a receptionist. “Uh.. My name is Canary.”

“Uh-huh.. go have a seat over there, the director will be down to collect you. And for future reference, you may want to start with your name.”

“Right, sorry.”

Canary went to go take a seat, cringing at the interaction. They were absolutely mortified. That could not have gone more awkwardly. What a lovely way to start the morning, no? They sat in an uncomfortable chair, shifting around to find some slight comfort in the chair. Their bag sat on their lap with their camera, the old leather once more subjected to being pinched by Canary. The front had a few birds carefully etched in, one of which was a canary. How fitting.

They scanned the small waiting room, the place smelling like peonies. It was agonizingly bright, the walls painted ivory. The decoration was pleasant the more their eyes scanned it. It was comforting. It had quite a few potted plants, a subtle background sound of falling water created by an indoor fountain located on a table. The walls were decorated by pictures of the models on magazine covers. They took the chance to observe the most popular models, to take a bet on who they’d be photographing. Two pictures caught their eyes in particular. One was an eccentric picture of a man on a motorcycle named Chuuya, the other was an eye-catching young man posed elegantly in a suit. Upon closer examination, the man’s name was Lippmann. He was more than eye-catching, certainly. With the intent of remaining professional, Canary swallowed those thoughts down. On the other hand, they secretly prayed for them to be assigned to him.

They waited patiently, fortunately not long before they were collected by a man named Piano Man. The director guided them to the fourth of 5 floors. On the floor was a large studio. It consisted of many props, backgrounds, furniture, a dressing room, and countless costumes. Their head turned to Piano man as he started talking. “Well then, Canary. You have free reign of the pictures, just follow a self picked theme for them, please. I’ll go collect your model.”

“Alright, yes sir.”

Without wasting a moment, Piano Man was gone and Canary started to push together a concept. Perhaps they would dedicate a theme based off of their model. They patiently waited for their model to arrive, watching out the window. They were slightly startled by the door abruptly opening, in walking their worst nightmare. The absolutely head over heels stunning model. They internally panicked, butterflies practically drowning them. They hadn’t realized they zoned out staring at him until Lippmann politely cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

“Oh!—Uh, good morning. How are you?” The words scratched out of Canary’s throat, making them cringe again. Lippmann only seemed to smile, calmly setting his things down and making his way over to the set that had been put up moments prior. “I’m quite swell, thank you. Are you ready to get started?”

“Oh, yeah! Sorry, let’s get to it.” Of course Canary had to flunk the conversation like that. They quickly set their bag down, carrying their camera over. They started in on the plan, all while tediously adjusting the set to ensure it was perfect. It had black backdrop, with a wine red couch in the center. There were vases of deep red roses scattered around. “Okay, so, we’re going for a Mafia-esque vibe. I want you to start on the couch, maybe pick up a rose, and just go with the flow for poses. Think.. natural, but eye catching.” They had nearly mumbled the words “Which, you don’t have to try for, anyway..” but had thankfully caught themselves before they slipped. Lippmann, in his suit, nodded and sat himself on the couch. He carefully plucked a rose out of the vase, holding it up as he dangled it over his face. Canary snapped a picture, heart fluttering as they noticed the electrical look in Lippmann’s eyes. But looking at the picture, they frowned. They didn’t feel like they were doing him justice. The picture was just.. boring.

After scanning him over and over again, they gently took the rose from his hand. An accidental connection of their skin had sent goosebumps up their arm, though they tried to not let it show. He seemed to watch them in amusement as they dipped the petals of the rose in water. They then handed it to him, backing away back to their spot to take pictures. And that was a good move. The water dripped down on Lippmann, enhancing his features in a more than pleasurable way. They were able to snag quite a few pictures in a few different poses. Sometimes, Lippmann would make eye contact with the camera. That had Canary’s heart desperately beating against their chest. But fortunately, the hours passed by swiftly. They ended up with 50 different pictures. Though, only about 25 would be edited and presented to Piano Man. Since they had more than enough pictures, they found themselves chatting away with Lippmann on the couch as they waited together for the agency to provide dinner in the cafeteria. “So, how is modeling? It seems so stressful.”

“Mmm.. it truly is not that bad. Some of my peers are naturally good at it, while the others are just getting started.”

“Oh, neat. Who’s your favorite model? Wait—that’s a stupid question, ignore that I’m sorry—“ Canary flushed deeply, while Lippmann just laughed. That noise, one that was so sweetly melodic, had Canary’s stomach doing several flips. But Lippmann answered the question anyway, with the intent of being nice. “I do like Chuuya a lot. He’s a boy with lots of potential, if given the chance to grow and flourish.”

“Hum, interesting.” Canary responded, before getting lost in thought. They were in a comfortable silence, hearts basically pulling together like magnets. Before long, Lippmann gently nudged them to draw them out of their thoughts. He smiled politely, standing up and gesturing to the door as he went to open it for them. “They should be serving dinner soon. According to Piano Man, they should be making sukiyaki tonight. You can sit with me, if you’d like.”

“Oh, that would be nice. Thank you.” Canary replied politely, forcing down the butterflies that again pestered their stomach. They trailed behind Lippmann as he led them down to the cafeteria, which was a relatively small room. It was set up restaurant style, with separate tables and booths. In the back was a buffet line. After claiming a table, Canary and Lippmann continued to converse lightly as they got their meals. Canary purposefully chose to not get a runny egg, rather taking an extra piece of meat. They sat down together, ignoring a couple of stares as they used the pot of broth provided on the table to cook their meat. They ate as they talked. Canary noticed how easily conversation came with him, basically finding their heart running away from themself and jumping into his arms. Even after they had finished their lovely little dinner, they continued to just ramble to each other. The topics were airy and interesting. Canary’s tone was more happy to be there, while Lippmann’s was more interested in Canary. Lippmann had unknowingly made the mistake of probing a certain topic of conversation. “So, you like birds? You seem to have a lot of bird related things.” Those two sentences started out a lusciously long ramble on Canary’s end that left Lippmann more in love then before they started. He seemed quite interested and amused. “Oh, I see, I see. That’s very interesting.”

“Isn’t it? Yeah, anyways, if you look here on my bag, the engraved symbol is actually a pigeon—“

The bird nerd went on for a long while, while Lippmann inquired here and there to keep the conversation alive. Unfortunately, it was time to leave for the night. Lippmann had escorted them all the way back up to the ground level, letting them chat his ear off the entire time about birds. While he politely helped them slip on their jacket, he slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and grabbed a pen. He started talking as Canary peered around him to see what he was writing.

“I take it as you are staying in the nearby hotel? I’ll walk you there. Well now, here’s my number—call me, yeah?”

“Yes! I will! Uh, I mean thanks, I’ll be sure to call.” To hell with Canary’s heart. Their heart thudded desperately against the enclosure of the rib cage, their face turning a ripe pink. Lippmann’s heart aching laugh rung out again, as he began to walk them to their hotel. Another comfortable silence filled the air, soon broken by Lippmann once more. “Pretty out here tonight, no?”

“Yeah, it is. Lots of stars. Hey—actually, I have a question. Am I going to be your photographer for the rest of the week?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Well—absolutely.”

Lippmann chuckled, opening the hotel’s front door for them as he answered. “Then yes, you will be. I’ll ensure it.”

Canary felt dazed with that answer. They just chuckled and nodded, waving him goodbye as he left. Their heart strings tugged at him leaving, but good grief. He looked good from behind. They turned around, sighing as they checked into the hotel. After setting all their things down, they thumped against the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling as moonlight poured in from the window. They sighed longingly, a deep and unashamed blush covering their face once more. They were definitely looking forward to these next few days.

5 years later..

A hustling, bustling city in Japan, a home to Canary. The train seems to be freshly cleaned, with a familiar sterile smell, light pouring in from the never changing overhead lights. The seats, which could never seem comfortable enough even after all this time, had Canary enveloped in the limited plush. An absolutely beautiful opportunity. That’s all that’s needed in life, right? Right. That’s correct, so lovingly correct.

At this time, it was around the 5 year anniversary of when Canary had gotten their first job. It was for an extremely popular agency, something that didn’t have Canary bubbling with excitement and enthusiasm, and they had only felt anxiety and disgruntled about what was about to entail. They recalled the thoughts of, “Ugh! Not only do I have to take the highest quality pictures possible for some big name modeling agency as my first job, but this job also lasts for a full week. Seriously, no home for a week! And honestly, who names a modeling agency The Flags?” They remember groaning in agony at the thoughts, a warm smile as they recalled their face instantly brightening to a flush pink after being looked at strangely by the countless train passengers.

They had clutched their bag to themselves, a small messenger bag which had leather worn by time, furthermore worn as it once more accompanied them today. Their camera, a small but hardy little thing, had sat in their lap. They still had it, brought it back out specifically for this. This had been an interesting tale of events, those seven days. Those seven days had blossomed into something more, and they looked back on the memories fondly. Canary’s hand was enfolded in a warm embrace, snapping them out of their thoughts as they looked at their fiancé fondly. He was so pretty, even 5 years later. Lippmann’s beauty would never diminish to them.

Upon Arrival, a shorter ride this time.

A sweet place to permanently work, truly. It was a short ride with their lover on the train to get to work. They carefully stepped off the train together at their station, holding hands tenderly. Canary had never grown out of the habit of having that messenger bag slung across their body, not like Lippmann minded. He thought it was cute. Canary observed the ever familiar station around them, enjoying the sights as Lippmann guided them both through the crowd. Canary had a small talent for spotting the teen they were fond of. Chuuya, of course. The young boy had proved himself countless times. Today, Canary had spotted him arguing with a tall brown haired boy. They paid no mind.

The lovers had taken up a leisurely pace for the walk, pointing out multiple things on their walk, with Canary staring reminiscing as they passed the birds, stores, or cafes. Those of which Lippmann had now taken them to several times. They simply ignored the time on a clock they passed by, as arriving a few minutes late had been their usual for a few years now. Piano man didn’t truly care anyway, so they chose to spend this time being comfortable with each other. It was springtime, so it was warm in the city. A gentle warm breeze caresses the lovers, but they pay no mind. They didn’t even try to hurry as they easily conversed, making slow work of the 10 minute walk, turning it into 20 minutes.

“Ah, you look so pretty today, birdie.”

“Me? You’re the model. You are awfully gorgeous, you know.”

His laugh chimed out. They had never really gotten over his laugh, it still set off butterflies in their stomach.

They casually rounded the corner, making no effort to hurry as Lippmann opened the door for them like the gentleman he truly was. Canary slid off their light coat, smiling to themself for no reason in particular. They waited for Lippmann to return next to them before signing as they admired him. They quickly collected themself and cleared their throat. They turned to the now older receptionist, who had a sweet look on her face. “Good morning, Mei. You look lovely today.”

“Good morning, Canary. Thank you very much. You two keep me youthful, you know.”

Lippmann gave a playful laugh, cutting into the conversation eloquently. “On the other hand, I believe we are keeping you on your toes with our arrival times.”

“Uh-huh.. you truly do. It’s okay though, as long as you keep coming. You remind me of my son, Canary.”

“..Thank you, Mei. You are far too sweet.”

Canary went to the elevator with Lippmann, smiling at the interaction. Lippmann squeezed their hand, and they squeezed back. They took in the smell of their lover, relaxing subconsciously.

They scanned the elevator they’ve seen thousands of times, the place still smelling like peonies. The walls were metal, giving Lippmann a chance to observe his lover through the reflection. Though, without the reflection, he was unashamed to openly admire them. It was a comforting place to Canary, as they were acquainted with nearly every model there. They’ve spent many nights on the rooftop of this very building, watching the stars with Lippmann. They’ve played games with fellow staff, they’ve built up many memories for themself here. It was a safe place. In the shelter of the elevator, they didn’t care about being professional. They turned, leaving a hearty kiss to Lippmann’s cheek, leaving his eyebrow raised. They unfortunately didn’t escape without Lippmann returning the kiss, though.

The elevator deposited them to the fourth of 5 floors. On the floor was a large studio, one that they were both extremely familiar with. They’ve shared an incredible amount of memories here. It still consisted of many props, backgrounds, furniture, a dressing room, and countless costumes. Though now, the collection of items had expanded with Canary’s personal taste. Countless bird decorations, along the large windows with the blinds opened to allow natural light to flood into the expansive room, and pictures filled the room. The pictures were mostly memories, such as Lippmann and Canary at a bar or Canary and the whole model agency at the beach. That had been one chaotic day.

Perhaps, just for the celebration of the anniversary, they would repeat that very theme from all those years ago. Port mafia and roses. They sighed as Lippmann had to let go of their hand to go change into his outfit. Which actually, Canary needed to find on the rack. As Lippmann waited in the dressing room, Canary found the same suit and had handed it to him. They then waited patiently, and perhaps with wandering thoughts, as Lippmann changed.

“Ready yet?”

“Relax, birdie. I’ll be out in a moment. Any reason you chose to pick this exact suit again?”

“Oh, yeah. Since it’s like the 5 year anniversary of my first job, I decided we’d be repeating the theme. Call it a throwback.”

“Hum.. sounds good to me. While I’m thinking about it, we’re still getting those pictures next week, right? The ones of you?”

“Yes, love, we are. You insisted, unless you don’t want too..?” Canary sounded hopeful, which make Lippmann laugh. “No, birdie, I definitely want too. I insisted, as you said.”

Canary groaned in response, being a little dramatic. “I couldn’t see why. I’m hardly anything to look at, and I’m not photogenic.”

“You seemed photogenic and beautiful enough last night.”

“LIPPMANN!”

Lippmann once again just laughed. He couldn’t help himself, resisting the urge to tease his lover was impossible. Especially with the way they always had the cutest flush on their face after. He stepped out of the changing room in the suit, setting his neatly folded clothes on a nearby table.

“Ugh.. let’s get to it before you keep talking.” Canary had to shut down the conversation before they became a mess of liquid shyness. Seriously, Lippmann was such a flirt. They quickly set their bag down, carrying their camera over to the set. They quickly whipped up a plan, starting in on it, all while tediously adjusting the set to ensure it was perfectly like before. Lippmann followed them like a clingy lost puppy, teasing them. It had black backdrop, with a wine red couch in the center. There were vases of deep red roses scattered around. And a hot man. Or, at least, that’s what Canary remembered. “Okay, so, we’re going for Mafia-esque again. I want you to start on the couch, uh—I think I had you pick up a rose, dip it in the water, and just go with the flow for poses. So just do that again, yeah? Great.” They had suddenly recalled the words they had nearly mumbled all that time ago, cringing but also agreeing with them. Ultimately, they were glad they had caught themself before it slipped. Lippmann, humming in amusement, nodded and lazily laid on the couch. He carefully plucked a rose out of the vase, dipping it in water, holding it up as he dangled it over himself. Canary snapped a picture, not even having to pay much mind to it. Taking pictures of him had become muscle memory at this point, his best angles memorized.

They were able to take quite a few pictures of the old poses, and even more in some new poses. Lippmann kept make eye contact with the camera, as he found out a while ago how much they liked it. Canary rolled their eyes playfully, but it had their heart thrumming no matter how hard they tried to play it off. “Wow, Lippmann. Really outdoing yourself, you look cute.” Canary lightly flirted, smiling to themself. But unfortunately for the lovers, the hours passed by swiftly. They ended up with 125 different pictures. Though, again, only about 15 would be edited and presented to Piano Man. Canary sat next to Lippmann on the couch, who had quickly changed back into his regular clothes and was now laying down. He wrapped an arm loosely around Canary’s waist, watching them scroll through the pictures taken. Every now and then, Canary would show him one and then kiss his forehead to say good job. Lippmann loved that. “Well look at you Lippmann, such a pretty model. These look better than before.”

“Mmm.. is that so? Is it more so my beauty, or has your amazing talent of photography gotten significantly better to make me look better? Personally, I think it’s the latter.”

“Oh, shut up. I’ve improved, sure. But it’s you who holds the beauty. Even an awful photographer couldn’t make you look bad.“ Canary flushed deeply at being complimented, while Lippmann just laughed again, his finger tracing circles on their hip. “I do think you over hype me. Personally, I think you are far more beautiful than I am. Both inside and outside, birdie.”

“Hum, interesting. You’ve lost a significant amount of brain cells in the time of being with me.” Canary mused, before laughing at Lippmann’s mock offended look. They were in a comfortable position, with Canary snapping a few silly photos of him just for themself. The silence didn’t last long before Lippmann sat up, pulling them into his lap and started to flood their cheeks with kisses as they yelped. They found themselves in a teasing, sappy silence as Lippmann continued to hound them with kisses and Canary attempted to return all of them. Lippmann lazily checked his watch after a while, noting they had to leave in 5 minutes late to the cafeteria. He moved them off his lap, standing up and then helping them up. He smiled brightly, gesturing to the door as he held their hand. “We’re late for dinner. I don’t know what they're making tonight, I didn’t check. Too busy cuddling you last night.”

“Oh, don’t you have anything better to do other than tease me? Don’t you need to fix your hair or something to keep up your pretty boy status?” Canary replied smugly, not bothering to hide the blush on their face from the butterflies that again pestered their stomach. They trailed behind Lippmann, his hand snugly enveloping theirs, as he led them down to the cafeteria, which was a relatively small room. It was still set up restaurant style, with separate tables and booths. After all this time, not even the decoration changed. Truly, Piano Man needed to update some decor. After claiming a table, one that was unofficially theirs from the day Canary first arrived, Canary and Lippmann continued to converse lightly and tease each other playfully as they got their meals. There was an arrangement of things put out that night, Canary had ended up with cold soba noodles and Lippmann had stir-fried spicy garlic udon noodles. They both also had a bowl of white rice. They sat down together, already laughing. Canary fed Lippmann some cold soba from their bowl with chopsticks, managing to not spill a drop on the elegant man. They ate as they talked, occasionally feeding each other for no reason other than enjoyment. Canary noticed how easily conversation came with him, even after all this time. They never seemed to run out of topics when with each other. “Well, birdie. What are we doing tonight? Are we going to watch a movie?”

“Hum.. a movie? What kind of movie do you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure. We could probably find something, or we could play games if that sparks your interest.”

“Hmm.. how about a spa night? I’m feeling a little lazy. We’ll take a nice bath together, maybe with some wine and candles. And a book. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does. Only if you let me give you a massage afterwards though. You seem very tense.”

“Huh.. you and your observation skills. Very well, love. It’s a deal.”

“Alright then. Are you done eating?”

“I am, yes. It was really good tonight. How was yours?”

“Mine was good. Did you see any neat birds on our walk to work that you forgot to point out to me today?

“Hmm.. let me think.”

The bird nerd then recalled just about every bird they say today, while Lippmann amusedly prompted them every so often to keep the conversation alive. Before long, it was time to leave for the night. Lippmann had dragged their chatty self back up to the ground level, respectfully waving a goodbye to Mei and Ice Man. Outside, he helped them slip on their light coat, before putting on his own coat. He grabbed their hand again, setting off down the sidewalk with them to their house.

“That warm bath is sounding really good right now.”

“I agree. And just perhaps I am looking forward to that massage, and I’ll give you one in return.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lippmann’s heart aching laugh rung out again, as he led them to their shared house. The two lovers had kept making themselves laugh, eventually lapsing into a quiet conversation. “You know, Canary, when I first met you I thought you were very awkward.”

“Oh, I was so awkward. You made me basically head over heels for you in like.. five minutes. It’s just your charm. Surely you know that?”

“Of course I do. I just love hearing the words come from your mouth, with your lovely voice. It’s like honey to the soul.”

Lippmann chuckled at nothing in particular, fumbling in his pocket for the house keys. He then unlocked the door, opening the door for them as he kissed their cheek for the thousandth time tonight. “Alright—head upstairs, I’ll start the bath.”

Canary subconsciously nodded, delighted at the thought of having another bath with him. They were always extremely peaceful. They slid off their coat and shoes, heading upstairs just as he directed. They undressed in the bedroom, wrapping themself in a towel as they listened to Lippmann start the bath in the next room over. They just chuckled and nodded, waving him goodbye as he left. They wandered down the hall into the bathroom, greeted by the sight of Lippmann waiting for them in the bathtub with a lazy smile. They hastily joined him, sliding into the warm bubbly water with a relaxed sigh. Lippmann pulled Canary close to him, reaching over to the edge of the tub. He easily opened a bottle of nice wine, pouring them both a glass and handing one to Canary. Tonight was for relaxing. Canary was really looking forward to the next few years spent with Lippmann, together until death due them part. Even then, death could not keep them from each other.

Writer’s note (not proofread)

Thanks you for letting me write them Nuit! They are very nice pair. Very fun to write, Canary is very special in a good way. You are very nice person. Very kind. Thank you Lumi for fixing my grammer and helping me make my writing readable. You helped me write like you and am very happy!! I am happy with you both! Very nice people you are. Very much thanks. I hope this is good for you Nuit, writing long is very hard.

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firegoddess96 · 2 years

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Chapter 1

Summary: Y/n was rescued by Bucky when she was younger leading them to a beautiful friendship. But will the friendship evolve into something more with distance and time? Y/n is all grown up now and the boys are back from war. Will their longing hearts finally become one?

Warning: angst, eventual smut, talk of assault, fluff

Moving to Brooklyn seemed like a nightmare to you at the time, you were 8 years old and Texas was the only home you had ever known.

Growing up in your small town everyone knew everyone, and no one batted an eye at your chunky frame. You had just always been that way. But here, in the big city full of strangers, you could feel the judgemental stares and the hear the whispered criticisms. Never before had you felt insecure in your own skin, but New York had a way of making everyone feel out of place. And you absolutely hated it.

After a while a group of boys a few grades above you started to harass you on the way home from school. They were maybe 12 or 13yrs old, and would follow you around making rude comments about your weight and the clothes you wore.

This went on for years until you were 15, and the harassment took on a new tone. The stares became lecherous and the comments more sexual. You became very afraid, always kept pepper spray and your dads pocket knife on you just like he told you. The day came were one of the older boys tried to corner you into the wall and touch you.

He didn’t get very far, as you reached for the mace in you pocket you heard a deep voice growl out at the boys.

“You punks better back away from the dame.” You could see him over the assailant’s shoulder, blue eyes dark with rage and jaw tense. If looks could kill, the boy trying to pin you to the wall would be dead.

James “Bucky” Barnes, the guy every girl in Brooklyn wanted, and who could blame them? He was kind, charming and practically a white knight, he rescued girls all the time from creeps like these, and rescued his best friend too. Here he was standing in the alley about to fight 3 guys all on his own, and he didn’t even know who you were. At least you didn’t think so.

“Back off Barnes, this don’t concern you!” Sneered the boy in front of you.

“Well I think it does punk. Now back off the dame and leave.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed into a glare, fists clenched at his sides. You were baffled, he was really gonna do this, was gonna pick a fight, outnumbered, for a complete stranger.

Getting your whits together you tighten your hand on the mace in you pocket. You met Bucky’s eyes and gave him a look, glancing at the other 2 silent goons. You prayed he’d understand, and it looked like your prayers were answered when his eyes brightened with understanding and his lips lifted in a smirk.

Tapping your would be attacker on the shoulder you sprayed him in the eyes as soon as he turned to face you. Then you kneed him in the balls with all your strength, and shoved him back. His ass landed groaning on the asphalt in agony, while you could hear the pained moans and grunts from the other two near the alley entry. Glancing up you see Bucky with blood coming from his lip and the other two knocked out cold on the ground.

Bucky offered you his hand and guided you to safety, Penny’s dinner just a few blocks down. He stayed with you to make sure you were ok, helped you through the shock. You ended up staying the rest of the evening drinking milkshakes and eating burgers with both him and Steve. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Sadly, your boys went off to war, you had to watch Bucky leave first, followed by little Stevie, who wasn’t so little anymore. You spent 3 years writing your boys letters and praying that you’d get one back. You always did, some times they’d take months to get to you, but you’d get just as many as you’d send. Once you didn’t get a response for 6 months and all at once got 20 letters from each of them, responding to each and every question you had asked in detail.

Steve met a gal named Peggy, a pretty British thing that loved him for who he was on the inside, not his new muscles. You liked her already, and couldn’t wait until he brought her home. But this also worried you, if Steve could find someone over seas, then couldn’t Bucky? You kept you feeling locked away, but it was there and it was all consuming, you’d been in love with him since that day when you were 15. But you knew he couldn’t feel the same way, he was older, mature and could get any pretty girl he wanted. Why would he go for the young, thick girl who happened to be one of his best friends.

The day came when the war was over, we had one. Your boys were coming home. You got the news of their arrival and racesd home from work to change. You slipped into you summer dress with the roses and gold sandles, curled your hair and put on your favorite burgundy lipstick then raced to the airport to see your boys.

The tall mop of blonde hair was easy to spot first, and next to him the brunette who held your heart. Grinning so large, feeling as if your face would split open, you yelled for them.

“BUCKY! STEVIE!”

*Bucky*

Their heads whipped in your direction and their eyes grew big. Standing by the luggage carrousel was y/n, but not the y/n they left 3 years ago. No, this y/n was all grown up. Bucky’s heart practically stopped, she was gorgeous. All curves and legs, her hair was wild and her full lips were painted a deep burgundy. She was a vision, an angel after the hell of war.

Before he left for war he had a small crush on her, his delicate bunny. So sweet and pure, he vowed to protect her from everything that would ruin her, including himself. So he kept it locked away, was there for her as a friend. But after 3 years of nothing but letters and longing, he was so worried he would lose her to someone else, that she would meet some punk while he was gone and this faceless guy would take away his bunny.

He kept reminding himself the whole way home that Y/n is just a friend, that he had no claim to her and no right to be possessive. But the second he saw her he had trouble remembering how to breath, let alone why he shouldn’t have her. That she wasn’t his bunny, but damnit, yes she was. And he was gonna prove it!

#avengers x reader #avengers x plus size! reader #smut #bucky x plus size reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader

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stealforreal · 3 years

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Future kids - Bakugou Katsuki I

Bakugou meets his son from the future. Just some fluff, with a jealous Bakugou.

Bakugou Katsuki x F! reader

Warnings: none

Bakugou was stomping his way back to the dorms, cursing that stupid nerd Deku in his mind. Kicking some rocks lying in his way, he was radiating murder. Naturally his classmates left him alone to cool off for a minute, even the Baku squad left him alone. They had chosen not to interfere, because they would like to live to see another, thank you very much.

The stupid nerd had been too close to y/n at lunch today, and Bakugou had spent the entire time glaring at the curly green haired boy. What really made him snap was when she hugged him, and the stupid brocoli went as red as a tomato. She was giggling loudly and seemed really happy at whatever Midoriya had said, and the fiery ash blond couldn't control his jealousy so he stormed off. After class was over Bakugou was the first out the door, not even stopping to insult Denki when he made a bad joke.

The rest of his classmates were confused, sure they all knew Bakugou to be a hothead. But still he seemed angrier than usual, only the Baku squad had small nervous but knowing smiles on their face. They knew of the explosive boy's crush on y/n, it wasn't totally obvious and they really wouldn't have known had Kirishima not pointed out the subtle things. Like how he never once called her an extra, he still called her idiot, dumbass and such. That was probably Bakugou's version of a compliment, which was probably the reason they took so long to figure out his crush.

So here he was stomping his way back to the dorms, cursing Deku for being close with y/n, Himself for getting jealous, y/n for being too friendly and everything he could curse in general. He stopped dead in his tracks when he felt a little tug on his uniform pant leg, glaring down at the thing that stopped him. Only to be confused when that thing turned out to be a little boy, around the age of 4-5 by the looks of it. Bakugou's brows furrowed in confusion, how did a little boy end up here. UA is one of the most secure places in Japan, courtesy of the League of Villains and other past incidents.

What caught Bakugou's attention though, was the fact that this little boy was bawling his eyes out and trembling with his sobs. Bakugou didn't know what was happening, he felt incredibly protective of the young boy but didn't know why. He seemed kind of familiar, like Bakugou had seen parts of him somewhere else before. The little boy had big e/c doe eyes, filled to the brim with tears as he stared at the ground. His hair was unruly and a familiar shade of ash blond, he reminded Bakugou of himself a bit when he was young except the crybaby attitude of course. It was weird for Bakugou to feel this protective of anything, and he didn't like it one bit

" Oi brat, where are you parents?" The teenager asked the little boy, crouching down to his level, making the little lad finally pay attention to the stranger he had grabbed. The little boy gasped and flung himself at Bakugou, clutching on tightly to the stunned teenager's shirt. A new wave of tears hit the little blonde, being relieved at the familiar sight of his fathers face though much younger. " D-daddy, I-I was so scared" the little boy whimpered, burying his tear stained face in his fathers shoulder. Bakugou was speechless, he sure as hell was not this kid's father even if it explained the feeling of familiarity. No Bakugou shook his head at the ridiculous thought, this kid was obviously terrified and contrary to popular belief Bakugou would not abandon a lost child " Oi brat, I'm taking you with me back to the dorms. Afterwards we'll find your parents' ' he huffed, Bakugou was going to kill this kid's parents once they were found.

The younger boy began calming down in the older boy's arms, the tears had stopped and he was only softly hiccupping now. "B-but daddy I did find you, I wanna go see mommy" the young boy huffed out, defiantly crossing his arms over his little chest. " Oh yeah, prove it brat" Bakugou smirked thinking he had cornered the little boy in his lie, but much to his astonishment the little boy let out a small explosion in the palm of his hand. Though much brighter than his own, there was no mistaking his explosion quirk. Bakugou hated to admit that so far the brat seemed to be telling the truth, and he hated even more how his feeling of protectiveness grew at the revelation that this kid in fact was most likely his son from the future. It wasn't rocket science, right now Bakugou was 16 and 100% not a father. Yet here is a little boy that is the spitting image of him as a kid except the eyes, and in this world where quirks exist perhaps time travelling was possible.

Bakugou's little chat with his son had taken longer than he thought, because as soon as he entered the dorm common room every one in the room snapped their head towards the two ash blondes. The first to break the pin drop silence was Kirishima " Eh who is the kid, Bakubro" he asked. While Mina asked if he had kidnapped the kid, earning a glare from the explosive blonde. " Daddy, why does Aunt Mina and Uncle Kiri not recognize me? " a little voice asked, making a lot of jaws drop and eyes widened. 1....2......3...... " WHA!!!" The lot of them shouted, questions coming left and right, wanting an explanation as to why this little boy who looked suspiciously like Bakugou called him dad.

What they all failed to notice was the little boy was recoiling from the loud noise, pressing himself closer and closer to his father. Bakugou noticed this, and thanks to his newfound protectiveness he hugged him closer and glared at them effectively shutting them up. Mostly they were just silenced because the sight of Bakugou hugging and being protective of his supposed son baffled them. I mean we are talking about Mr.Hothead angry Pomeranian, the most blatant rude student in class 1-A if not in the entirety of UA. " Shut it ya damn morons, can't you see you're frightening him" Bakugou sneered at his classmates, not loudly but it was still malicious enough to make a shiver run up their spines.

Midoriya, who had known Kacchan the longest, was intrigued by this side of Kacchan and unconsciously moved closer to the two ash blondes. Seeing the familiar shade of green hair approach them Bakugou sneered, while his son became ecstatic. " Uncle Izu '' The child yelled excitedly, stretching his arm towards the blushing brocoli boy indicating he wanted to be held. " Ah hell no! He is not your uncle, I won't allow shitty Deku to hold my son" Bakugou yelled, making a few snicker quietly, but what really set them off was the fact his son chopped his head with a little fist. "Oi, why the hell did ya do that for ya brat? Bakugou barks at his son, only receiving a deadpan expression in return. " Mommy said, every time your daddy is mean to uncle Izu chop his head for me, okay baby?" After that announcement they all burst out laughing, while Midoriya tried not to tremble under Bakugou's glare.

"Speaking of which, who is your mom?, uhm I never got your name, little guy" Kirishima asked the little boy, stating a valid point. Bakugou realized that even though he had known his son for about 5 hours now, he never once asked what the boy's name was. " What do you mean, Uncle Kiri, it's me Katsuma?" Katsuma tilted his head a bit, not really being aware or understanding that he most likely travelled through time. " Well you aren't born in our time yet, mini Bakugou" Kaminari informed the little boy, in his usual teasing voice. " Really Uncle Kami" Little Katsuma asked " Does this mean mommy and daddy aren't together yet?" He asked, surprising the teenagers. Katsuma was surprisingly smart for a kid his age, and after the initial shock from being called daddy Katsuki totally forgot to ask about his son's mother.

"That is correct, Katsuma'' Todoroki piped up in his usual monotone voice, surprising Katsuma with his appearance. " Uncle Todo'' Katsuma replied coolly, surprising everyone present. The happy bubbly 5 year old had vanished in an instant, and been replaced with a little boy full of hatred. Breaking the little staring contest that had broken out between his son and the damn half n half bastard, was none other than Midoriya's phone. Being the klutz that he is, he ended up answering and putting it on speaker. " Izuku, Ochaco said there was a cute kid at your dorm, so I'm coming over " y/n voice could be heard, instantly Katsuma brightened up again being all sparkles and rainbows again. He tugged at his dad's collar, demanding Katsuki's attention " daddy, daddy did you hear, mommy's coming over" the little ash blonde exclaimed, bouncing in his fathers arms from being giddy. This new information caused everybody's jaw to land on the floor once again.

" WHY, why does Bakugou get the hot chick? '' Mineta yelled in agony, being the little pervert he is, he had to comment on her looks. " Oi, don't talk about my future wife and baby mama y/n like that, I'll fucking blast you to hell" His statement followed by the crackeling in his palm, and the sound of a phone being dropped? Turning around Bakugou was met with your stunned face, eyes blown wide with confusion and astonishment clearly written on your face. " Mommy" Katsuma yelled, squirming trying to get out of his fathers embrace, and slowly Katsuki sat him down. When his small feet hit the floor, Katsuma was sprinting towards y/n with all his might and flinging himself into her arms. Resulting in the poor girl, falling down on the floor in her confusion.

Katsuma buried his face in her neck, sighing happily to himself. The remaining nerves he had totally disappeared once he saw you. As much as Katsuma was a daddy’s boy, he was even more of a mama’s boy. Katsuma could feel the lack of response coming from his mother, curious and slightly scared he looked at her face. you were absolutely stunned, no response came from you frightening the young boy. Tears began swimming in Katsuma’s beautiful e/c eyes, snapping you back to reality. The sight of a child with tears in his eyes, struck your motherly instincts. Answers could wait, right now there was an adorable toddler with tears in his eyes, and you had to comfort him.

Slowly Katsuma was pulled into your embrace, head buried in the crock of your neck. Arms wrapped tightly around the preciuóus boy, letting him cling to you for deer life. “ M-mommy, I m-missed you, I was s-so scared-d” Katsuma said through sobs and hiccups. Not bothering to correct him, you bounced him lightly up and down in your arms. Bakugou came and helped you onto your feet, putting an arm around your waist. His other hand began stroking Katsuma’s unruly blond hair.

Around them the rest of the class was still stunned into silence, seeing the small family in an embrace. Most of them had never seen Bakugou look so protective and calm, let alone with a small blush. You would also sport a matching blush if it weren’t for the fact, all your attention was on the young boy in your arms. He looked like a carbon copy of Katsuki, yet his e/c eyes looked exactly like yours. Slowly the sniffles stopped. Instead they were replaced by steady breathing, it seems like the child had a long day because he was fast asleep in your arms.

Slowly you made your way to the 1-A dorm living room couch, with the sleeping child in your arms and Bakugou not far behind you. He made it a point to keep his hand on the small of your back, glaring at the other guys present if they looked at your or his son the wrong way. “ Can somebody please explain to me what is going on?” You whispered so you wouldn’t wake up the young boy, whose name you still hadn’t caught. Your eyes caught Izuku’s eyes, but for some reason his eyes widened and he averted his gaze from you. Izuku is one of your best friends, you met because you and your classmate Hatsume Mei worked on his hero costume and you hit it off.

With your attention not fully on the child anymore, you now realised that somebody had their arm around your shoulders. Looking to your right where the owner would be stítting, your eyes widened slightly at the person on your right. One of the hottest guys in UA had his arm around you, Bakugou Katsuki of class 1-a was well known in the school. His temper, looks and quirk had made him extremely popular with the female population of UA, though none of them dared approach him. The bad boy image both attracted them and made them keep their distance from him. He wasn’t exactly known for being a teddy bear, so Katsuki hugging y/n closer to him and keeping touching her was not expected.

“ Oi Flashlight, brat is ours from the future. I don't know how he got here but it’s true. He even has my quirk, you know what this means right ” Bakugou spoke, explaining the situation. The others had left the two of you alone, giving Bakugou privacy to explain the surreal situation to you. What this means? What did he mean by that? You couldn’t help but ponder the meaning. Turning your head to face him and question him on what he meant, you were met with a very close Bakugou. Bakugou couldn’t contain himself seeing you look so adorably clueless, so he closed the small gap between you.

His lips were surprisingly soft. He was gentle in kissing you, not knowing how you would react. I mean you had to like him back right? You were sitting there next to hum with YOUR SON in your arms. He smelled nice, it was a sweet scent like caramel courtesy of his quirk. The kiss was slow, loving and gentle, the feeling of his lips on yours were intoxicating. Pulling back from the kiss, Bakugou growled silently, huskily in your ear “Your mine, flashlight” Heat crept up your neck, and you were left softly blushing. “ What are we going to do with him Bakugou?” Still facing Bakugou, you looked at your son from the future. There really was no mistake, he looked like a perfect Katsuki copy with your eyes, and your motherly instincts told that this was in fact your son.

“It’s Katsuki to you Flashlight ” He corrected you “For now let's go to bed, it’s late. We can ask the squirt questions tomorrow” Katsuki led you to his room, still with a sleeping Katsuma in your arms. His bed was big enough to fit the three of you. You laid down with Katsuma in the middle, both you and Katsuki put an arm around Katsuma. Katsuki intertwined your fingers, and slowly you fell into a blissful sleep. You could ask more questions tomorrow.

But when you woke up, Katsuma was nowhere to be found. Only you and Katsuki were cuddling in his bed. You and Katsuki both came to the conclusion that whatever quirk sent Katsuma here probably sent him back to his own time. “Katsuki, is it wrong of me to miss him already?” You looked at your new boyfriend, looking into his sleepy vermillion orbs. “ If you miss the little firecracker already, why don’t we bring him back” His morning voice was rough, and tickled your ears just right, sending a shiver down your spine. Bakugou's eyes glinted with mischief, as he began kissing your neck. The innuendo not lost on you, the feeling of his lips on a particular spot had you giggling. It was ticklish and stopped him in his tracks for just long enough for you to get a word in. “ Let’s wait a few years okay” He nodded and laid down next to you again, pulling you close.

You would see Katsuma again. Someday.

#mha #bakugou #dad au #xreader #dadbakugou #momreader #timetravel #bnha #bnha bakugo x reader #bakusquad

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