#the noises he made while being tortured felt like being stabbed in the heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oneshotnewbie · 2 months

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Next one for rabbit hole? Oooo it's just so good and then.. the dreaded cliffhanger uggghhhhhhh

ᕚ---ᕘ

The cool, sterile atmosphere of the hospital room seemed to oppress you. You lay still and motionless on the hospital bed while the monitor next to you beeped in a monotonous rhythm. Outside the window, the faint light of dawn illuminates the room, the muffled sound of city life filtering through the thin walls, giving you a feeling of oppression.

You had been here for days, surrounded by the strange noises and emotionless looks of the medical staff. But you couldn't stay. No longer. The last few days had trapped you like a nightmare - an endless cycle of pain, sadness and the constant fear of the unknown. Your body ached from the injuries, but it wasn't just the physical pain that tormented you. It was the unrelenting fear. This whirlwind of thoughts had been plaguing you ever since you were admitted and was growing inexorably within you.

It wasn't the fear of the possible consequences of the injuries, but the fear of your own ex-husband. The memories of the stabbings, the tantrums, and the danger to your life echoed in your head. You knew you weren't safe while he was on the loose. You knew you couldn't stay safe forever, even behind the walls of the hospital.

The idea that he had learned that you were still alive and lurking out there, looking for you to end the cruel game of your life, almost drove you crazy and the thought that he might even hurt Olivia, gave you no peace. You had no choice - you had to escape before it was too late.

You stared at the ceiling, fighting the rising panic. The thoughts of the past and the terrible moments in your own home threatened to overwhelm you. Yet amidst this darkness, a spark of determination flickered in your eyes.

With your ears listening to make sure no one made a move towards your room, you put your plan into action. It was a risky move, but you couldn't lie still and wait for someone else to protect you any longer. Olivia protecting you. With a surge of courage, you sat up and slid out of bed. The hospital clothes you were wearing felt unfamiliar and foreign. Your hands reached for the drip attached to your arm and carefully pulled the needle out, ignoring the pain that shot through your arm as you squeezed yourself into a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, ignoring your aching limbs.

The rush of adrenaline in your ears seemed louder than ever before, and you tried to be as quiet as possible. As if the slightest sound would alert your ex-husband and lead him straight to you.

You knew you didn't have the doctors' permission to leave the hospital, but you couldn't stay here. Not while your life was in danger so with one last check around the room and the most important things packed in the gym bag, you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

The corridor was silent, the only sounds being the low hum of the lights above you and the muffled murmurs of the nurses talking somewhere in the distance. You pressed your lips together, every step was torture, but you forced yourself to keep going. You had to escape, no matter the cost. You felt a stab of fear with every movement, but also a touch of freedom. You had to act now before it was too late for you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you considered each step. You had to be careful, you had to make sure no one saw you. Because if your ex-husband found out you were still alive, he would find you. And this time he would make sure you didn't survive. Escaping through the endless hallways felt like an eternity, but you finally reached the door that led outside. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage before the doors opened in front of you and you stepped out. The cold enveloped you like a cloak, and for a moment you felt free - free from the chains of the past, free from the fear that had held you captive for so long.

But the freedom was short-lived. You knew that Henry was still out there, lurking somewhere in the shadows, ready to continue his dangerous game. You had to go into hiding, disappear somewhere where he couldn't find you. At least until you had the strength to face him and take him down. But you didn't know where to go, only that you had to get away from here. Away from this place that threatened your life; here he already knew where you worked, where you lived and who was around you that he could possibly manipulate. Or injure, as the case may be. Your steps quickened, your breath ragged as you limped through the crowded streets, not looking back.

Meanwhile, Olivia Benson was just dismissing herself for her lunch break. Her mind wandered to the unsolved case of your ex-husband when she decided to visit you in the hospital and have lunch with you.

She got out of her company car and looked at the hospital building in front of her. She had worked all night and all morning to catch the bastard who had critically injured you without any further whereabouts information from him. Regardless, she was looking forward to seeing you again. It was important for her to support you, especially after what had happened to you. She was wracked with guilt that she hadn't protected you well enough.

She entered the building with quick steps and made her way to your room. But when she reached the door, she noticed that it was half open. Confused, she pushed it further open and entered the room, the worst thoughts circling in her head.

Emptiness.

The bed was messy, as if you had just laid there recently. But there was no sign of you, the room was deserted. An icy shiver ran down Olivia's spine and a hint of panic rose in her as she realized that the tubes and cables that had only recently been attached to your body were now scattered uselessly on the bed.

Rushing to the nurses to ask for information, they too couldn't give her an answer as to where you were. All they could tell her was that you had not received any discharge papers from the hospital, that your stay was extended until the inflamed surgical scar had healed. Olivia had no way of knowing that you were already on the run, from a shadow from your past that still seemed to haunt you.

With a quick movement of her hand, she reached for her cell phone to dial the number of her colleague, one of her best friends, who had already given her decisive support in the past and offered a saving hand when you needed to be save. Their connection went far beyond the confines of the workplace, and in that moment, she knew instinctively that he was the one she could always rely on. Especially since you also played a crucial role in his life.

"Elliot, it's me. I need your help. Y/n is gone, possibly on the run, and probably in potential danger.“

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hargrove-mayfields · 11 months

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Happy Disability Pride month! Here’s a disabled Harringrove fic I’ve been slowly working on for quite a while now!

Also posted on ao3 and broken into chapters since it’s a bit longer.

warnings: canonical injury, graphic injury description, hospital setting, detailed child abuse, distress, medical anxiety.

-•-•-•-•-•-

At about one in the morning on the fourth of July, Hawkins Memorial Hospital is overrun with a group of banged up teenagers. A girl with an infected stab wound in her leg, a boy with bruises all over his face and drugs in his system, two kids with bruises and mild head injuries, the rest all with ringing ears and miscellaneous cuts and scrapes, but by far the worst was a boy who had been impaled straight through the center of his chest.

There was an explosion at the mall, and falling debris had done a real number on these kids, or at least that’s what they were told to say when they were given government clearance and all rushed into the emergency room.

They made for quite a sight, thirteen people rushing in all at once, but only two of them were in bad enough shape to be taken back immediately. El and Billy, the latter of which had already had to be resuscitated in the ambulance for the extent of the injury to his chest. They both went straight into surgery.

Everyone else had to sit and wait their turns, though some of them with the least severe damage opted out of their check ups, so the next to be admitted back were Steve and Robin.

The truth was a lot uglier than just an explosion, and, to say the very least, they were a little worse for wear.

Robin hadn’t actually been touched by the men who were torturing them, since the plan was to kill Steve first and then get to her. That, thank whatever being might possibly live in the clouds, had not happened. It was just that her head was still fuzzy and her knees unsteady from whatever they’d injected her with.

The thing is, they had probably been pretty damn close to killing Steve though. It hadn’t felt like it at first, the adrenaline from a million other things to worry about taking over the pain, but the longer he sat with his injuries, the more it felt like his brain was trying to come out through his nose, and the room had started spinning around him again, this time from the concussion, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding internally from somewhere.

A nurse whose name Steve forgot as soon as he learned it led them into a big room with two beds and an armchair in the corner. She had the both of them describe their symptoms, frowning at every detail Steve remembered about his condition until eventually she called in the doctor to do a better once over.

They were testing Robins blood or something while they did all kinds of poking and prodding at Steve. They made him do some consciousness checks, asking him who the president was and that sort of thing, and making him follow the end of a pen with his eyes.

Apparently he had something called hyphema in his eye, but to him it just felt like it was going to pop out. A lady smiled down at him and poked his eye with a fancy stick, another made him tilt his head back and put drops in it, then brought him a little patch, some sort of bandage to put over it.

Medicine was put in all the little cuts on his face and the doctor started scribbling something onto his clipboard. He sighed and said something, but to Steve’s ears, he just sounded like a teacher from the Peanuts holiday specials, not a single coherent syllable coming out of the man’s mouth.

To attempt to hear what that doctor was saying, Steve furrowed his eyebrows and tried his very best to focus on just his words, but it still just sounded like a bunch of jumbled up trumpet noises. Eventually he gave up and asked, “What?”

More incoherent mumbling.

For a brief moment, Steve felt his heart start to race with panic, the thought that he could be dying settling into his mind with dread, and that fear and confusion must’ve translated directly onto his face.

The doctor put a hand on his chin and tilted his head to the side again and turned on some little flashlight, then turned Steve’s back to face him, a grim look on his face. “We need to do a hearing test.”

One of the nurses from before left and came back with a big cart and wheeled it up beside him. He asked what it was, to his ears sounding clear and concise, but to Robin and the nurses it sounded more mushed together, like- “Whazat?”

She explained it to him, but he only caught about every other word when he looked up at her face. It was something to do with him having to wear these big chunky headphones and the little tray of buttons they put in front of him.

He gathered that he was supposed to press one when a sound came through the headphones, but he just kind of sat there for a few minutes. Everyone else in the room all had the same look on their face, an odd mixture of sympathy and seriousness, and Steve realized the silence was probably supposed to be full of sounds, he just couldn’t hear them.

It made his heart sink down to his stomach, and for a second he thought about just pressing the buttons whenever he wanted and pretending to hear something, but he knew they would see through it.

The good news was that eventually he could hear some of the beeps, but only when they were obviously too loud to be normal and in his right ear. Besides, the damage of the realization had already been done. Steve was basically deaf.

It made sense- a lot of sense really. Their torturers had done all kinds of shit to him that he could hardly even remember while they were trying to get him to talk, and he’d initially blamed the ringing in his ears on the drugs. After that, a hell of a lot of fireworks had gone off in the echoing space of the mall's lobby, so he thought his ears were just messed up from that.

He supposed it should’ve been a giveaway that everyone else who had also been exposed to the fireworks wasn’t having the same problem, but in their haste to get to the hospital, he hadn’t really been thinking about comparing their ailments.

The nurse signaled for him to take the headphones off and wheeled her little cart away, and the doctor put his hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to do another test to see how bad the damage is, okay?”

Without really knowing what he was agreeing to, Steve nodded, and for the first time looked over at Robin in the bed parallel to his. She gave him a little thumbs up, but her smile looked forced and just sad. Steve felt a tug of nervousness in his chest.

This time they put something inside of Steve’s ear, which hurt like hell when it apparently wasn’t supposed to, that would somehow, he missed the explanation part, check for damage to his eardrum. Not even five minutes after they put it in his ear they turned it off.

The doctor, all stern like, told him, “You need a CT scan. Immediately.”

Apparently his left eardrum had completely ruptured and the right was not far behind it. That meant to the doctors that he had some terrible head injury that could kill him if they didn’t catch it.

Steve was glad he was in the hospital, because it felt like he was having a heart attack now.

Growing up, his mother was something of a hypochondriac, every headache was a brain tumor and every flu season he had meningitis, an aching joint meant he had early onset arthritis, and mood swings, those obviously meant he was, in her words, “mentally unwell.”

Because of that, he’d always been sort of paranoid too, careful when he didn’t need to be and scared of nothing. The one time he worried for someone other than himself and suddenly he’s deaf and has traumatic brain injuries. Nice.

By the time he was done with all the tests they wanted to do on him he was shaking like a leaf. They said it was unlikely that there would turn out to be anything wrong, but he would have to wait an entire day to find out. Surviving all that he had just to die hours later was something that scared him immensely, and, even as they were being cleared for release, he was moments away from a panic attack.

Robin could read him like a book, and got him out of there as soon as possible once they signed him out. Everyone else was still lingering in the waiting room, and Steve wanted desperately to stay with them, but, even if he didn’t realize it just yet, Robin knew he needed to not be around people right now.

They said a quick goodbye to everyone else, and Robin had him in his bimmer and halfway back home before he knew what had happened. She’s not licensed, but since Steve’s place is only a few minutes away, and he really didn’t think he could handle being by himself right now, she just drove him.

Robin made herself right at home, trudging on up into his parents room and raiding his mother’s drawers for something to change into after spending the last two or so days in the same stiff, stained up work uniform.

Words couldn’t describe how relieved that made Steve feel, her just barging on in like she owned the place when he was so used to this house being empty. He was glad that, after everything they’d been through, the two of them came out of it as friends, something he was lacking before having met and been tortured alongside her.

Because really, he had Dustin, but it’s different when he’s younger. The only kids he knew who were his own age either hated his guts or only talked to him out of pity, so Robin was truly a breath of fresh air.

Still, the weight of learning that he had gotten truly and utterly fucked up was too much emotionally for him to bear. The whole time he was in the shower, scrubbing away the blood and the dirt caked into his nails and his hair and his ears apparently, he let tears drip off the end of his nose and ugly sobs out of his throat.

Robin was in another bathroom somewhere in that mansion of his probably doing the same thing, so he let himself go with the promise that there was no way she would hear him. He cried harder when he realized he couldn’t hear himself either.

Afterward, using the phone in the kitchen, Robin called her mom and told her the same practiced story about the ‘explosion’ at the mall, and got permission to stay at a friends while he waited for medical clearance, that part an unfortunate reality. If she left now, there was the chance, albeit a small one, that Steve wasn’t in the clear, and his brain could hemorrhage or something and he’d just die alone at home.

Reluctantly her mother agreed to let her stay, concerned for her daughter's safety and a random boy’s intentions with her, but she had eventually given up against Robin’s begging.

Once she was done, the conversation with Steve’s ima over the phone in the living room went completely different.

Overreacting was Ruth-Anne Harrington’s middle name, and the very moment she weaseled out of her bubbeleh that there’d been an accident and he’d been involved, she was practically packed and halfway back to Hawkins.

After that, he and Robin kind of just sat there until Ima Ruth got there. With what they’d seen and what had been done to them, there wasn’t really much else either of them would rather do but exactly that.

A few hours into reruns of some old sitcom Steve’s ima used to watch, Robin nudged him with her knee to let him know she was going to speak. “Should we try to get some sleep?”

Already knowing that his answer was a resounding no way, absolutely not, Steve shrugged his shoulders and acted casual instead, “Dunno.”

Robin sank further back into the couch and nodded, fiddling with the hem of the borrowed pajama shirt that she’a wearing, “You holding up okay, popeye?”

The little chuckle that Steve gave in response sounded kind of wet, and she could hear it in his voice that he was going to cry before either of them saw tears. “Not really.”

His lip trembled and Robin felt tears pricking in her own eyes, so she sat up straighter and pulled Steve close. It was kind of an awkward angle, with her folded legs pressing into his side, but it didn’t really matter to them right now. They needed to be there for eachother.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Only a few hours after sunrise, Ruth rang the doorbell like her life depended on it, immediately dropping her bags on the stoop to hug her son. If he had any more tears to shed he would’ve, but him and Robin had done pretty much nothing but cry all night.

Stephen Sr. had not been able to, or rather, willing to make the flight all the way back to Hawkins from where they had been staying for some meeting in Dayton, but Steve would rather have only seen his ima anyways.

Her manicured nails in his hair, her sweet perfume, and her slightly too tight hugs were much better than the scornful glances and backhanded comments he would’ve heard from his father from behind the newspaper anyways.

He helped her drag all of her luggage into the house, then he and Robin sat down at the kitchen island while Ruth made them some tea. Something she did always made it better than when Steve would try to, with the same tea bags and everything, but she would never tell him her secret.

Sliding them both identical mugs and wrapping her hands around one for herself, Ruth leaned forward with her elbows on the island so she was eye level with them. “So what happened?”

Knowing that Robin was probably super uncomfortable right now, Steve took the bullet for her, “There was an explosion at the mall after we closed up Scoops. A buncha’ kids got trapped in ‘ere. There was just like, debris everywhere a-and we just… yeah.”

Ruth could tell just from her son's voice something was off. His words were all running together, and his pronunciations sounded off. It reminded her of when he was a toddler and she had to send him to speech therapy to teach him how to talk in the ‘proper’ way that didn’t reflect his mothers accent. “And are you okay?”

“We, uh, don’t really know yet.” It’s the half truth. They don’t have all the results. But Steve is really just nervous to tell her something so big.

She gets closer, putting the pressure on, “Stefan. You can tell me anything.”

“I- um. I kinda sorta-“

“He’s deaf.” Robin cut him off and said the words for him, knowing he was too scared to tell Ruth, who she’d heard many not so lovely things about. Maybe it’s just because she knows what it’s like to have parents who don’t show up, but she doesn’t forgive Ruth for abandoning Steve, no matter the excuse. So she’s brutally honest, “His eardrums were blown out and there’s a chance he has a brain injury.”

“Oh, honey.” She picked up Steve’s hand in her own, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. “When will we know?”

“Sometime later today.” Steve answers on his own.

It doesn’t erase the concern, or the irritated pursed lips, from Ruth’s face, “What do we have to do for you?”

“They just said they��d lemme know when they called me back.” For some reason, Steve feels guilty about not knowing. Like it’s his fault and not the systems. He feels dumb.

“Alright.” Is all Ruth says. It only cements in Robin's mind that this woman isn’t actually the best mom in the world. Steve needs comfort and support right now. Not a performance of concern. Not hollow questions asking if he needs anything while knowing he definitely does.

Still, Robin herself was in an okay enough place after spending all morning with Steve that she figured it was time to butt out. Her own mother is probably going to freak out on her for not going home last night, it’s best to go anyways.

Once Ruth turned her back to them again, she tapped the side of Steve’s mug to get him to look at her, “I think I’m gonna call my mom for a ride and skedaddle.”

Immediately Steve objects, “But you don’ have to go.”

“I can stay if you want me to.” Robin offers, instead of arguing, and Steve realizes she’d read him exactly right.

A guilty look on his face, Steve bit his lip and looked at his mum where she was bustling around in the kitchen around them. Robin knew that meant he wanted to be alone with his mom, and despite her reservations about Ruth from the stories she’d heard, she could understand that.

“I’m going to be fine Steve. Worry about yourself for a change.” Robin hugs him, gently so she doesn’t aggravate any of his injuries, “Call me if you need me though popeye.”

She called her mom and waited awkwardly by the front doors, and, despite how not-normal this situation was, it felt just like any other time leaving a friends house, with the awkward ‘I don’t really know what to say but I’m about to leave’ kind of vibe, and in a strange way it comforted her.

Steve would be okay. She would be fine. They both would be and so would everyone else.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-

The call had come and Steve was dealing with a severe concussion, but it wasn’t anything he would die from, not from an unexpected aneurysm or a stroke like he had convinced himself.

Except for the complete loss of his hearing and the fact that there was nothing he could do about it, he was feeling a little better.

Technically there actually was a solution. At the same time that the hospital told him his brain was fine, they’d offered to get him fitted for hearing aids, but two days later Stephen Sr. finally returned from the birthplace of aviation and the appointment was canceled.

Where Ruth reacted to everything that could possibly be wrong with Steve with the instinct to coddle him, his dad did the opposite. He was cold and harsh Steve’s entire childhood, like the time he was eight years old and broke his elbow playing soccer, but was cut out of the cast early on his fathers orders. Or when he lost his tooth in the dry steak at a fancy restaurant and got slapped for crying.

When they had told him the news of Steve’s disability, both Steve and his mother staring down at the wooden table and twiddling their thumbs, he had the audacity to laugh. He thought they were just making a mountain out of a mole hole, that Steve probably just had some congestion and would be fine in a few days.

Steve tried really, really hard to follow the rules and listen to what his father said to avoid conflict, but after a week he knew it was hopeless.

In just that one week alone, he had been through three phone calls with various people checking up on him that he didn’t hear more than a few words of. He’d discovered when a police officer showed up at the door to get a statement out of him about the mall that looking into other peoples faces was much harder than before thanks to the torture he’d been through, and suddenly it was next to impossible to hear what anyone was saying to him without the extra help of being able to read their lips.

Possibly worst of all, he kept getting whacks to the back of the head with the newspaper or his fathers hand for not answering when he was spoken to or missing out on conversation.

This just wasn’t going to work.

His ears were not going to just magically get better at hearing, and as hard as it was to realize that at 19 he’d have to wear hearing aids like his zeydee did, after an entire week of this icky feeling of being isolated with his head under water, he had to do it.

That morning, he sat down next to his ima on the couch and told her, as casually as possible, “I would be okay if you guys had to leave again.”

Ruth, keeping her eyes low and her face in her cup of tea, mumbled out her response, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear it, “We wouldn’t just abandon you dear.”

Steve’s face scrunched up with the effort of trying to understand her. She gave a second, clearer answer to spare him the trouble, “Are you certain you’ll be fine Stefan?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure.” He nodded, probably making it even less believable, but as Ruth was between a rock and a hard fist, she accepted it as truth.

“Well, your father has a meeting in Pittsburgh tomorrow morning, and he’s been asking me to go with him..” It was clear in the look on her face that she wanted to turn away, but she remembered his current state and kept her face turned towards him. She’s implying things again, letting Steve do the heavy lifting so she doesn’t have to.

“You should go ima. I’m okay now.” An ingenuine smile to finish it off, and Ruth’s decision was made.

His parents were out of the house by that same afternoon in a slurry of excessive amounts of hugs and promises to call from Ruth, while he got another smack to the back of his head from Stephen Sr.

As soon as the Rolls Royce pulled out of the driveway he ran to get ready. There was an audiologist at the hospital, and he was determined to go there, even if his father had been awful to the staff about canceling the appointment.

See, Stephen Sr. had built up quite the reputation in Hawkins, but where most of the public, like his teachers and his neighbors, thought it was a case of tough love between the Harrington father and son, the doctors at the hospital knew it wasn’t really like that at all. It was all in his records, the suspicious amount of injuries and all the denied treatments for them.

Since he was about ten they’d been leaving him alone for all their business trips and whatnot, and ever since then he’d been taking himself to the doctor for things they deemed too trivial. Mostly it was for his allergies, like to get the epipen he was told he didn’t need or a breathing treatment that one time his mom used coconut perfume before date night, but there were quite a few of the occasional instances of injuries like concussions during off seasons and fingers slammed in car doors before he was old enough to drive.

The staff were pretty good about letting him in without an appointment, and this time was no different.

When he got there, a woman behind the desk signed him in with a sympathetic smile when she heard what happened, and said he’d only have to wait about a half hour.

He was called back and they did yet another hearing test on him, just to be extra sure it wasn’t a temporary effect from the ‘explosion’ and deemed that yeah, he was definitely still very deaf.

Piles of papers were thrown at him detailing all the different options and information for hearing aids, and they took some molds of his ears. The doctor told him it would take about a week, and then they’d call him back in and give him the hearing aids. Simple as that and he was being hurried back out of the room already.

It felt odd just walking out after that, maybe because he still couldn’t hear a damn thing and had to wait another week to get his hearing back, and he found himself lost in his thoughts and in the hallways of the hospital.

Eventually he ended up in the waiting room of an entrance he hadn’t even used, but all thoughts of how the hell to escape this labyrinth of a hospital were pushed out of his mind when he caught sight of a familiar redhead in one of the blue plastic chairs.

Max had been the only one of the kids he hadn’t talked to since that night, so he sat down next to her. It didn’t seem like she noticed him at first, just kept her head down to stare at the pages of a magazine she definitely wasn’t actually reading, until she sighed and slammed it shut, turning to face him.

“What're you doing here?” There was a bitterness in her tone that Steve definitely didn’t expect, and a hard set look on her face to go with it.

As if, with the fading bruises and cuts still all over his face and the blood still pooled around his iris, he didn’t look like he belonged in a hospital. Then again, he probably looks a lot better than Max’s brother.

“I needed to get my ears checked out again. Fireworks got me pretty messed up.”

Instantly her face softens, and she sits back in her chair. “Good. I thought you were here to tell me to go home.”

If Steve is guessing right, then she’s here to see Billy, since he had nearly died, but Steve couldn’t understand why anyone would tell her to leave her brother behind. “Why would I do that?”

“Because pretty much everyone else has.” She snaps then turns her face away, muttering, exasperated, under her breath. “They think I’m just wasting my time.”

Steve didn’t catch what she said at all. He feels bad about it, but has to clarify, “What?”

There’s tears in her eyes and a crack in her voice as she turns back and practically shouts in his face, misunderstanding his inability to hear as a lack of understanding, “They think Billy’s some kind of monster or something and they don’t want me to come see him!”

“Oh.” Blinking a few times, Steve tries to think of the right thing to say. “How.. is he?”

She shrugs her shoulders as a response, chewing her trembling lip to try to keep the angry tears from spilling over.

“Do you want me to go with you? To see him?” The feeling of going through something like this alone was all too familiar to him, so while he and Billy hadn’t exactly been friends, he couldn’t leave Max here alone, crying in the middle of the day, while all her friends isolated her for it. He figured it didn’t really matter who was in the hospital bed as long as he was doing it to support her.

All she manages is a nod, and a sob she’d been trying to contain rattled her shoulders. Of all the kids he was probably the least close with Max, but in that moment he decides it isn’t important, and he wraps his arm protectively over her trembling body.

Visiting hours had opened earlier that morning, but they were doing some sort of test on Billy now, so they would have to wait.

In the meantime, Steve decided to take Max down to the cafeteria for some cheap food. A cup of jello and a bagel sandwich for each of them later, she was leading Steve back upstairs and down the hall to see if Billy was done.

Max saw the nurse lingering in the lobby and rounded the corner like a bat out of hell, tennis shoes squeaking on the floor.

As if she had to say anything, the nurse announces, “Mr. Hargrove is ready for you.”

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Whatever Steve had been expecting to see in room 212, it was not Billy Hargrove awake, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Had Steve just been impaled through his chest, especially considering how crummy he feels from just his injuries, he doesn’t think he’d be half as alert or completely normal seeming as Billy was.

Other than the obscene amount of bandages around his torso and the oxygen tubes in his nose, he looked mostly just like he had before. Not even ‘before’ as in recently before being admitted to the hospital, he’d still looked pretty run down in the weeks leading up to the incident, but ‘before’ as in when he’d first moved to Hawkins.

Adorned with that playful glint in his eyes that Steve hadn’t seen since last November before they’d gotten into a fight, Billy’s gaze follows him into the room, “Didn’t expect to see you here, Harrington.”

And Steve can tell he’s on all kinds of pain meds, from how wide his smile goes, how light his voice is, and he wonders if Billy’s like him, doing better on the outside than underneath.

But he still thinks he should respond so, with hands shoved into his pockets, Steve leans against the wall by the window and shrugs his shoulders. “Wasn’t planning on being here, Hargrove.”

Max on the other hand, sat herself down on the foot of Billy’s bed, crossing her legs so the both of them would fit together, and launched into a story about her day. It was mostly just complaints about the other kids ditching her and Susan not staying like she said she would, but Steve wouldn’t know all that.

From where he's standing, he can’t see most of Max’s face, so he keeps his eyes downcast at the blue and white floor, counting flaws in the tiles and trying his best to focus hard on what she’s saying. Most of what he gathers is confusing nonsense and it’s sort of miserable.

While she talked, even though he was listening and offering his input, Billy finds his gaze drifting over to Steve in the corner instead. The way he’s concentrating so hard, the way he doesn’t startle or look up like both he and Max had when an announcement came on the overhead speakers, or how, even when his own name is brought up in the conversation he doesn’t respond. To him, it’s become obvious there is a problem.

Max got to the present in her story, where she told him why Steve was here too and, seeing an opportunity to test his theory, Billy asks, “That true, Harrington?”

A second or two too late the words, spoken loud enough that he could just barely hear them, try to register, and he gathers that he’d been addressed by name, but Steve doesn’t hear the rest.

Looking up at the two of them, he sees Max had turned around to stare at him with big eyes and Billy’s drowsy gaze fixed onto him, the pair of siblings waiting for an answer. Steve felt a little heat rise to his face instantly, “Huh?”

“You can’t hear a damn thing can you?” Billy looks curious, almost fascinated by Steve and his situation.

For some reason, despite the seemingly rude bluntness of a high Billy Hargrove, it makes him decide to tell the truth, “Not really, no.”

Taking it in, Billy nods slowly, and eventually asks him, “You know sign language?”

“I never learned it, no.” Steve had only taken French in highschool to help his once best friend Heather get back in touch with her roots since her parents wouldn’t teach her the language of the city she was born in.

His were the same way, but they didn’t offer Yiddish classes at Hawkins High, and definitely not any form of Sign Language either. If only.

What Steve isn’t expecting is for Billy to offer, with one hundred percent certainty, “I could teach you.”

That’s surprising for some reason. Not the fact that Billy would teach him, since he seems in such a cheerful mood anyways, but rather that he’d be able to. “Wait, you know it?”

Still bobbing his head in a rigid nod, so much it makes Steve almost dizzy to watch, Billy explains, “Yep. My momma was deaf. She taught me growing up.”

That explains how he caught on so quickly then. It’s actually not that unexpected with the way he’d noticed Billy staring at his lips instead of making eye contact, since even before their fight. Still, he’s shy about accepting the offer at first, “Oh. I mean, if you wanna teach me..”

Billy doesn’t need any more than that to confidently declare, “Your first lesson is tomorrow. Bring a notebook and some snacks. We have lots of work to do.”

Equal parts excitement and fear flutter in Steve’s chest. The idea of being taught by Billy isn’t the worst, he’s honestly pretty neutral about that. It’s more the idea of having to learn things in general that scares him. He’d done terribly back in school, skating past only with the help of a personal special ed tutor. Any subject where he has to write or read anything is going to be a disaster.

More vulnerable that he expected, Steve brings up those fears, “What if I can’t learn it?”

“We’ll keep trying. It’s not like it’s gonna kill you to mess up.” The question hadn’t even fazed Billy. He’s so confident, Steve feels like it’s contagious.

Being able to communicate better than his attempts at hearing sounds fun actually, and the way Billy has been so kind about everything, Steve’s maybe looking forward to it. “Yeah.. Yeah! I’ll come back tomorrow.”

With that arranged now, Steve decided it was time to go. Besides, he has to go to Robin and tell her absolutely everything. Maybe they’ll have a little sleepover since Steve’s parents are gone again, and then Robin can bring Steve to see Billy tomorrow. She’ll be happy for him. Anything to make life so soon after the disaster easier.

He stands up, and thanks Billy quickly, and with a few pats to Max’s head he’s on his way out the door.

“I’ll see you then, pretty boy.” Billy had said it more quietly, meaning it registered only as a low rumble, but from the pitch he could tell it was Billy saying something. Already he feels that familiar with his new friend, a good sign for their future.

Still, he’s curious about what he said, so he turns back around and asks, “Huh?”

“Just saying bye, Steve.” Billy smiles, in contrasts with a subtle flush on his face, and waves, the tubes in his IV coming up with his arm, a reminder that he’s still in recovery too. It’ll probably make a world of difference for him to have Steve visit, based on what Max was saying.

Steve returns a vibrant smile before he exits, “Oh. Bye!”

Once he’s gone, probably back in his car and driven off already, Max looks at her brother and scoffs, well aware of another reason he wants to get close to Steve; the crush he’s had on him since they met, for example. “God, you’re a dork.”

“I’m a man in love, Maxine. And I got a date with Steve.” The drugs are definitely making him a little loopy, but even he should realize that’s a bit of a stretch just for a couple of sign language lessons.

Max just rolls her eyes at him affectionately, “Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming.”

#harringrove #billy x steve #steve centric #billy hargrove #steve & max #billy & max #steve & robin #disabled steve harrington #steve harringtons parents #my writing #tw child abuse #tw injury #tw hospital #happy ending #there’s fluff guys don’t worry #just some struggles first #the first drafts of this are from before I ever posted on st tumblr and now I’ve finally gotten it to a place where I can post it! I’m happy

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loudlypanickinginvenezolano · 1 year

Text

Care for You [Chapter one.]

Silence. Solicitude. Calmness. It wasn’t often that Sonic felt such a hard craving for them. That he felt almost a need, such a need so strong it was pretty much its own being on itself, breathing on his neck, and weighing down on his back and limbs, making his every move sluggish.

Sonic was tired.

He was oh so tired, so weary to a soul-deep level he tried to not feel so commonly. He really couldn’t afford it, after all, with everybody´s hope sitting on his shoulders, and relaying on him, and looking up to him, and yet today… today was rough, to call it something.

Battling since early dawn, public appearances all around the place, people screaming, calling his name, the thick fright he could feel waving off their bodies, those damned cameras being shoved into his face in the most inopportune of the moments and all… he was used to it, it was…okay, of sorts.

Kinda.

And while he certainly could do without their critics and hawk-like stares…the truth was that he lived for the thrill, that…that he thrived with it, even!

For the feeling of freefalling of a building, for the rush an adventure gave him, the hunger for more knowledge that traveling seemed to just awake in him; for the trill of a battle, of action, the warm that doing a good job, that helping, saving someone always gave him.

The satisfaction of a well done action, of making a good deed knowing he was doing his best to keep his place safe, that he was doing good, helping people he cared for and that deserved that and just that, his absolute best, for they trusted in him, and believed in him.

That knowing he was doing something to help, that he was useful in just the right way.

In making thing better. In making a difference.

He loved it. The feeling…That warmth, or joy sometimes that just clogged his chest. The contentment or excitement of a day gone well, of a good stretch, of accomplishment. Of making a change.

It was…his normal day, at least nowadays when people got more aggressive. He was used to it, to their prying eyes, hunting demeanor, heavy gazes always stabbing him down…

It was okay, all right? He could deal with it within barely a sec. It honestly didn’t get to him so strongly, most of the time he didn’t pay it any mind, too busy to slow down for such silly things. At most, if they got annoying, he would just speed past them with a huff.

Why let them get to him, when it was clearly their motivation?

And yet, everyone got a limit.

He neared his.

He could deal with them nice and easy. It was okay, really.

What wasn’t okay was trying to manipulate him. What wasn’t right was using his name to pull people into things that really weren’t okay.

That were dangerous.

What wasn’t right was getting his ears pulled or his body touched or grabbed just because they wanted a rise out of him. To invade his personal space like he didn’t have any kind of right over it anymore. Like it didn’t exist anymore.

What wasn’t right were the set up cameras always waiting for him to mess up, or their shark-like grins as they twisted information and his words to made them bite right at him, stepping up to him, completely disregarding his limits and shining lights right into his exhausted face.

Always.

The noise.

The fakeness of it all.

The sickening heat.

The hurt on his body.

The ache of his legs.

The pain on his neck and back.

The smoke filling up his nostrils and burning all the way up.

The unsavory questions.

The objectifying looks.

It was too much, sometimes.

He ran, and ran, and ran.

It felt like ages. It felt like a torture, like if everything was trying to claw out his body, skin him to see what was underneath and just step on his heart once everything was said and done.

To discard him once they had their curiosity sated. Once they realized he was just a living being, like them, and not the funny, sparky toy they seemed to take him as.

His breath was shallow, hitched. His body was sweating, and shivering with an unknown force.

Sonic was tired.

He was so tired of this shit, of this waking up earlier than the sun, of being a subject under a magnifying glass and nothing else and nothing more to everyone around him.

A tool.

For your political needs? For that popularity rise you are after? For the public attention? Well, apparently he was the one!

He was tired, physically, mentally, the weight of weeks suddenly crashing into his form.

He couldn’t keep up.

He couldn’t keep on.

Oh god, he couldn’t keep on anymore!

He collapsed on his knees, and then on the soft moss covered ground with barely a sound, gasping with collapsing lungs and trying to get back the feeling on his sore body, blindly clawing at the soil, panting, pained.

Tired.

He wasn’t even sure about how much time did he spent like that…minutes, hours… He wasn’t aware.

He wasn’t there, numb yet shaken to his very core.

The void sucked at his fingertips as he stared deeply at its edges, unblinking.

Between something and the other, you could say he felt into a slumber, an all-encompassing lack-of-feeling/sensibility spreading through his body and bringing cold to his limbs.

He only came to himself when he felt someone approaching, and he had to change his sprawling figure a little, already searching into himself for the last bit of energy in his being so he could flash a smile and wave off any concern or rude question he knew may be on his way. Careful it wouldn’t be a savage, and out of proportions affirmation about himself and his lifestyle, because, fuck. People loved doing these, accusing him of whatever type of mess they decided to spew at his face, not caring about wherever it made sense, or not.

And believe him when he says that they don’t care. Not at all.

When he opened his eyes, lies ready to roll of his tongue, startled ruby ones were everything he saw.

It was enough of a shock to had him of all persons spluttering rather unflattering in front of his boyfriend, who, thanks to Sonic´s unexpected actions, lost his footing and fell back on his bottom with a loud ``Ack!``, currently rubbing his eye with his fist as he grimaced.

“I am not quite fond of the water plays, hedgehog. Try to keep them to yourself?” He gritted, a disgusted expression obvious on his face.

Casual.

Completely casual.

just popping out of nowhere. Of course that was normal and totally expected.

Why was he surprised, again?

“What are you doin-what-how… How did you find me?!” Sonic squeaked, blinking furiously and trying to stand on his still jelly like legs.

…

It may be unnecessary point out, but, that was, of course, a failure.

Damn.

He really was out of it. His brain was still trying to catch up and start running the program like usual but damn it was lagging.

The hell was going on?

How was Shadow here?

Why?

Shouldn’t he be in his house, resting?

The hedgehog in question just frowned at him, lifting the basket he held on his hand right on Sonic´s eye level, half full with things Sonic couldn’t really name, and gesturing at it with his free hand.

Oh.

Right.

In Sonic´s defense he… well. He didn’t notice it, honestly, and how was that possible was a serious question he won’t dwell on.

He totally wouldn’t think about what could have happened had it been something AND someone different. Nop.

Not today!

“I was picking up things for dinner and tomorrow breakfast, as I always do, hedgehog. Always. Do. Shouldn’t you know that by now?”

“Yeah but you don’t… you usually don’t… just how late is it?”

Where were they, even?!

Was this a dream?

Was he feverish, talking with an illusion?

Was he dying, bleeding out in some unsightly dig somewhere and this was what his mind conjured up to his passing out?

Shadow´s frown deepened. “Have you hit your head?”

“Aw, C´mon it’s a valid question! I, I…don’t look at me like that, Shadow! I…Just don’t know for sure, but it is not why I- You were searching for me?” His mind was a mess, the subjects he tried to focus on way too many and changing way too fast for even him to keep up. Answering just one question seemed too challenging… He did the effort on sitting up even if all his body screamed at him to not do, to just lay there and hopefully melt into the earth to disappear. Then again, Shadow might just dug him out right away, so, would there even be a point?

“Should I have?” Shadow tilted his head, some curiosity on his eyes that he didn’t bother in hiding as they trailed down Sonic´s body, searchingly, before looking back at his face, arching his eye ridge. He, mercifully, did not comment on the speedster’s flinch, nor on the tense way his body was curled. “Something I should know, hedgehog?”

“No.” The word was out of his mouth before he ever really thought about it, a small shake that was everything his head could manage at the moment. Something more and he would end up puking out an empty stomach, and that was never fun. “There…there really is not, babe. Nothing to worry your pretty head about, kay?” Shifting his weight, he reached out a hand, not minding a bit the slow spreading pain on his upper muscles; actually, it was the last thing on his mind right now. How could he stop to think about the annoying sensation when all of his focus was on the hybrid in front of him, a tender smile in those lips he adored so much as Shadow rubbed his cheek against his palm, letting him cradle his face with no complain.

Damn.

He loved Shadow´s smiles.

“Up?”

“Whatever you wish.” It was habit, by this point. Shadow´s hand came up as well, holding his to keep it still just so he could twist a bit and left a little kiss on his palm and then his knuckles, not paying mind to Sonic´s blush or the little burns or scratches littered on his skin. He didn’t comment, and didn’t ask neither.

Sonic thought he loved him a little bit more than before.

With barely a move now the both of them were standing, Shadow´s arm finding its way around Sonic´s body, steadying him while holding him close, shamelessly hugging him in all honestly, surrounding him with his heat and sweet, homey scent, as finally the hedgehog was able to plant a kiss on his beloved forehead after longs hours apart.

Ah, seriously, how had the mighty fallen, that now such small time away made his heart feel tight like cord… with a little coy smile, he indulged himself in the embrace. “Sorry, I pulled you too hard.”

“…No biggie.” Sonic´s voice was quiet, a whisper of nervous energy and shifty eyes…but a lot of their moments had turned into this, recently. And while Shadow smile was more short lived than usual, he didn’t comment or question his partner muteness or thoughtful expression.

The thing was…Shadow didn’t pull too strongly. It was physically impossible. It…It was him the one at fault, and, just how shameful was that?

The one that needed a second to find his right footing even now, as he felt his boyfriend kiss his cheekbone, and then his cheek… it was him, the supposed renowned hero.

…

He didn’t feel like a hero just then. If anything, he felt more akin to trash, to an unknown weakling that crawled out of his shell and was now in the open. He felt weary, and unsteady. His legs didn’t want to work, and his boyfriend felt so lulling under him… so calm, and warm, and inviting.

So real. So alive.

Safe, maybe.

They just waited, then… as for what? Shadow wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think Sonic knew it, either, but they did, just breathing in, holding each other as the azure relaxed more and more ...until suddenly they weren’t, each taking a step back in synchrony.

Sonic stretched, gaze on the far away trees, knowing better than to offer a hand.

Shadow carefully crouched, setting his basket in the ground so he could pick up the ingredients and what-not that fell off.

A peach bared hand was firmly perched on a dark shoulder, though, and a gloved one rested on top of it, quietly.

Neither talked for a while, content just as they were. Comfortable.

It really wasn’t something to scoff at in their lifestyles. Those moments were from the most treasured, the scarcest.

However, the sun was starting to go down, and the skies were darkening with quite the speed, suspicious raising in Shadow´s stomach as he eyed the gloomy clouds he could see.

They needed to move.

Straightening up once more, Shadow took Sonic´s hand off his shoulder, holding it to his lips so a small tender kiss could be laid on the [Wounded. Sonic is wounded, his mind screamed non-stop.] appendage, softly lowering it and letting it go, despite his lover´s pout and confusion.

A small flicker towards the rain clouds ahead of them, and Sonic eyes cleared slightly in understanding. Good.

He started to walk away, calm, slowly, studying the plush greenery around him with scientific dedication, stopping from time to time to sniff at a few, or rub a single leaf between his fingers, sometimes taking a few and setting them inside his basket, sometimes taking the time to scribble down a few words after looking around.

If Sonic noticed or doubted his slow pace, he didn’t say something, focused in the ground at his feet, making sure the rain was still far, and trying to keep up with the ebony already slow steps.

If he noticed Shadow´s lingering glances, he ignored them.

Shadow was okay with silence.

“I take it I was close to the house, then?”

But…maybe Sonic was not.

Part of him was growing restless, and he kind of half hoped his boyfriend would suddenly propose to help him Chaos control away.

Usually he would say no. He knew that. Even when tired, or slightly wounded, Every time Shadow proposed, Sonic said no.

Running, hell, even walking, it always gave him a rush. Life. Energy.

He was so tired though. He almost didn’t want to think of it at all…

Would it be too out of character if he asked for it?

“You would be quite right, dear.” A silence. Ruby eyes snapped to his left, getting lost in the deep mess of foliage. His words were also lost, apparently. Sonic could almost see the gears on his brain working overtime. “I take it you weren’t planning on coming home?”

Home…

Well. It was curious that from all the places he could have ended in he so casually found himself that close to Shadow´s house.

To home.

Yeah. He liked that word. It was especially lovely coming out of Shadow´s lips. It was especially lovely knowing that the dark hero saw him as part of that home.

“How could I not, Hn?! Wouldn’t have missed it for nothin´!” He assured, and this time the smile that grazed his lips came easily to him. It came with life, and love, and Shadow didn’t have any kind of shame at the way he marveled at it, before a small yet equally heartfelt smile formed on himself.

I adore you, it seemed to say. Thank you, it seemed to scream.

The dark hero looked away for a moment, bottom lip softly held between his teeth. He was happy. Sonic could tell. He was so happy and the only thing they did was smile at each other.

How simple, wasn’t it? Sometimes he felt like pleasing Shadow was too easy…

Sonic wasn’t happy.

He just wasn’t. or…

He didn’t think he was, at least.

But it was an improvement, that was for sure. Like calm was finally edging into his consciousness, closing, and closing in. on his reach.

It didn’t seem to imposing, anymore.

It was a good feeling.

In a way, he was happy to had it. He was happy to have Shadow with him.

He still felt tired. But it was okay.

Once home he was going to rest. And then maybe he wouldn’t feel so bad afterward.

It was going to be okay.

////

Suggestions, tips, ideas, they are all okay too? If you want?

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elisaphoenix13-cullrian · 2 years

Text

More Than Words (Ch.1)

He had been traveling for a little over two days when rain started to pour. While in any other situation he would have found the nearest camp or inn, he pushed on. If only for the fact that he was so close to his destination and his companion was suitably covered with a cloak. It would be better in the long run. The less he had to move his companion the better.

His companion being none other than Dorian.

The man had been taken captive during an outing with the Inquisitor, but any attempts to find him and plan a rescue all fell through. Not even Leliana's agents found any trace of him. The rain made tracking hard so all signs of Dorian's possible presence had been washed away and any possible sounds were drowned out.

But Cullen refused to leave him in the hands of his captors longer than necessary and set out with the intention to find Dorian. He barely had the mind to leave behind a letter to inform anyone who may look for him that he wouldn't return to Skyhold until the mage was found. Whether dead or alive.

It took days to find Dorian, and the hideout was cleverly hidden into a rockface. Cullen happened to stumble upon it accidentally for how well it blended into its surroundings. But he raided it all the same with the help of some Inquisition soldiers at a nearby camp. He didn't expect to find Dorian in it as he was raiding every enemy camp he could find, but he did.

And what he found broke his heart.

Dorian had clearly been tortured and was hanging onto life by the tips of his fingers. He was caked in his own dried and fresh blood, stab wounds littered the entire expanse of his body in places that wouldn't be fatal, there were marks on his wrists from what Cullen could only assume was evidence of the mage's struggle…and worst of all? The bruises around his neck and the sound of Dorian wheezing. Like he had not only been strangled but had also been forced to drink some kind of concoction.

Likely magebane.

When Cullen finally released him from his bindings, Dorian merely slumped into him and said nothing. The commander associated it with the trauma inflicted on the mage, but even after getting Dorian away and to the camp, he remained silent. It felt incredibly wrong to Cullen. He thought by now Dorian would at least make some offhanded comment about his rescue taking so long, but any attempt to make a noise pained him. It was when Cullen finally realized that whatever Dorian was forced to drink was more than magebane. Closer inspection revealed irritation and inflammation and he feared that Dorian's silence was not voluntary.

That was when he decided that he wouldn't take Dorian back to Skyhold. There were still people there that looked at the Tevinter mage sideways and would possibly take advantage of Dorian's injuries, so Cullen needed to take him somewhere he could heal and recuperate without fear. And there was only one place Cullen knew of that would offer that.

So he requisitioned a cloak to protect Dorian from the elements, got him onto a horse and started riding. The journey was nerve wracking as Dorian could hardly swallow water, and he initially refused anything Cullen tried to give him, but the commander was able to gently coax him to drink some when he realized the mage probably thought he was being fed whatever terrible potion was shoved down his throat. Cullen had no idea he had gone without food though, which was why he was so determined to get Dorian to their destination as soon as possible.

A pained groan pulls Cullen's attention to the mage in front of him and his mouth forms into a thin line. Dorian had to sit in front of him so Cullen could keep him steady on the horse, and the entire time, the mage's head had pulled back against his shoulder.

"We're nearly there," Cullen promises, urging his horse to go a little faster. They were just half an hour away and he would go as fast as he safely could.

He almost cried with relief when he finally came upon a small village. Even more so when he found someone crazy enough to be outside in the torrential rain under the protection of an overhang, and he rode up to them.

"Where can I find the old Leroux farm?" Cullen shouts over the downpour.

"Just down that path!" The man motions to Cullen's right. "If you reach the large oak you've gone too far!"

Cullen thanks him and urges his horse forward, watching carefully for the farm. Fortunately it was easy to spot when he got close enough even in the heavy rain, and he rode as close as he possibly could to the house before carefully dismounting. He left Dorian once he was sure the man wouldn't fall off horse and rushed over to the door and pounded on it with his fist. He waited a few moments before trying again, and when there had been no answer and he was about to attempt a third time, the door flew open to reveal a young woman with long blonde hair.

"Cullen?! What are you doing here?" She asks. She was dressed in a night robe which told Cullen it was far later than he had originally thought.

"I need help." Cullen answers immediately. "I have a friend. He's injured and ill."

"Bring him in then. Hurry and get out of the rain. There is an open stall in the stables for your horse."

Cullen nods and rushes back to Dorian and the horse, wiping away the water that was starting to drip into his eyes. He was just in time to keep the mage from slipping off and then he led the horse into the stables and into a stall after gently pulling Dorian down and setting him on a nearby stool. Cullen took just long enough to make sure the horse was fed and watered, took off his saddle, and then scooped up Dorian to rush inside. The mage was in no condition to walk, but fortunately he wasn't heavy so it was easy to carry him into the house where the woman was waiting with some blankets and first aid.

"Here. There's a room you can put him in," she says softly and shows Cullen up the stairs. She led him to the room at the end of the walkway and Cullen was quick to deposit Dorian onto the bed before stripping off his cloak and boots. "My husband's clothes should fit the both of you. Get him out of those."

Cullen nods and carefully strips Dorian out of his robes, frowning at each wound he uncovered. Out in the wilds he only had the means to give the mage basic first aid, but it had been clear that Dorian would need a healer. He was confident that it could wait until morning though. If not later if there wasn't one in the village. Cullen's main concern was getting Dorian warm, dry, and possibly fed.

"Here," the woman walks back into the room and hands Cullen some clothes. "I'll wash your clothes and I can buy some in town tomorrow when I go to find a healer."

"Thank you, Mia." With her help, Cullen gets Dorian dry and redressed before covering him with the blankets and furs. "I know it's the middle of the night but could you make him something to eat? Like a broth. I don't know when the last time he ate was and he has trouble swallowing."

"Of course. There's enough wood in here to build a fire but you'll need more. There's a stack downstairs." Mia tells him before leaving the room again.

Cullen takes the time to shed his armor and boots, making a mental note to apologize for the mud he brought in and possibly help clean it up, and changes into the clean set of clothes. He piles his and Dorian's wet clothes in a pile out of the way before walking over to the fireplace to make a fire, sighing when the wood catches and the flames grow. Cullen holds his hands out to warm his fingers and then rubs his hands together when he starts to get feeling back.

Then he took the time to change the bandages on Dorian. Just as he finished tying off the last of them, the mage groaned again and slowly opened his eyes to look around. There was still a bit of a glazed expression in his eyes, but he did look a little more alert than he had been the past couple of days. The dry clothes and the warmth of the fire likely helped, as well as the water Cullen had been managing to get into him.

"Dorian?" Cullen calls out carefully and gray eyes dart over to him. "It's alright. You're safe."

Dorian took him by surprise when he slowly wrapped his fingers around Cullen's wrist, and the commander gently pulled away just enough to take the mage's hand in his own. Dorian was a close friend, so Cullen was one of the very few that knew that Dorian craved physical touch. He had spent his entire childhood without a loving touch of any kind, and even in his adult life the touches he did get with partners weren't the same. It was all unfeeling. Dorian admitted that he enjoyed Cullen's touch because he could tell the man actually cared about him.

So now he would hold Dorian's hand as long as the man needed it. He was hurting, he was scared, and he needed that reassurance that he really was away from his torturers. Cullen could give him that. So he carefully sat on the edge of the bed with Dorian's hand in his and let him sleep until Mia returned with a bowl of broth. She paused when she saw Cullen holding Dorian's hand, but said nothing as she walked over.

Cullen knew her silence over the obvious display of affection wouldn't last long.

"Here. I gave it some time to cool down so it shouldn't hurt him too badly." Mia says, offering the bowl to Cullen. "How bad is it?"

Cullen sighs and gently pulls his hand out of Dorian's to take the bowl. "He's in need of a healer. I had some difficulty getting him to drink water but I think part of the reason was because of what he was forced to drink. I don't think he knew what was real."

"What did they make him drink?" Mia frowns.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps some form of poison. Magebane wouldn't do this. Not by itself at least."

"Magebane?" Mia looks at him in surprise. "Your friend is a mage? I thought–"

"I'm not the man I used to be. My past still haunts me but now I know that all mages aren't the same. Dorian has shown me that." Cullen turns his attention back to the mage and reaches out to wake him as gently as possible. Dorian's lips pull into a frown before he finally opens his eyes and Cullen holds the bowl closer. "Here. My sister made you some broth. You should try to eat some."

Dorian looked conflicted. Like the thought of trying to swallow made his throat hurt, but also like Cullen offered him food from the heavens. His hunger won out in the end and he sat up with the commander's help and he accepted the bowl with shaky hands. Which made Dorian frown. Cullen watched as the mage contemplated his predicament, but eventually held out the spoon.

"You're weak." Cullen says gently. "I don't know how long you've gone without food so it's not surprising that you don't have the strength. If you'd like, I can help."

It was the best Cullen could do without upsetting Dorian. To give him an option instead of assuming and spoon feeding him when he was clear headed enough to choose. Dorian was proud and something like this would be hard to ask for help over, but he decided that it was best to ask for Cullen's help since he handed the bowl back. Mia was even kind enough to give Dorian some semblance of privacy after kissing Cullen on the cheek and bidding him good night, leaving the commander to help Dorian with his…meal.

Each swallow caused Dorian to wince but he continued to open his mouth for more. "I know it hurts but it will help." Cullen says softly. "Mia will find a healer tomorrow."

Dorian nods and it takes almost an hour for him to finish the entire bowl of broth, with the occasional coughing fit, but Cullen was even more relieved. Dorian even managed to keep it down when the commander kept an eye on him for another hour afterwards just in case. He then felt optimistic enough that Dorian would be alright for the rest of the night and Cullen chose to lay down on the other side of the bed. Partly because his bones were aching and begging for something more comfortable than a bedroll, and partly because he hoped his presence would soothe Dorian.

He just hoped he didn't have any nightmares.

=====

When Cullen woke the next morning, the sun was up, the birds were chirping, and the fire was still going strong. Mia must have come in once or twice to keep it going so far the very least Dorian would stay warm. She knew Cullen was used to cold weather, but she always seemed to know when someone wasn't used to something. Perhaps she thought that Dorian was from a warmer country. Cullen hadn't said anything to her. Not that he remembered at least.

But he was glad for her kindness and he was sure Dorian was too. A quick check on the mage confirmed that he was still sleeping, and we'll from the looks of it. Dorian was relaxed and even curled against Cullen's side so he could only hope his wounds had started to heal. He was able to give Dorian a couple of elfroot potions during their journey.

Cullen was careful to move away from Dorian before he got up so he wouldn't disturb the man's sleep and also so he wouldn't potentially jostle said wounds. He rubbed his face as he quietly left the bedroom and descended the stairs down to the kitchen where he found his sister cooking breakfast.

"I don't remember the last time I slept in so late." Cullen admits.

Mia looks over her shoulder at him and smiles. "I'm sure you needed it. Knowing you, you've been up before the sun since you joined the Templars. How's your friend?"

Cullen narrows his eyes at the teasing tone in his sister's voice. She likely saw Dorian cuddled up to him and was making baseless assumptions off of that. "Dorian is sleeping. Maker knows he needs it more than I do right now."

"Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"Yes, Mia." Cullen huffs. "He's just…touch starved. I'm one of the very few that know that about him and I don't mind indulging him on occasion. Especially now. He needs a familiar touch."

Mia's smile turns soft as she turns with a bowl in hand. The same broth from last night. "You have time to eat your own breakfast while it cools down. I'm sure you're hungry."

Cullen's stomach growls loudly in agreement and he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I admit that I've been more concerned about Dorian's well-being that I haven't eaten much myself."

"Is your appetite better? You know…since stopping lyrium?" Mia asks. Cullen looked at her curiously because he didn't tell her of any of his symptoms while he was having withdrawals. "I asked some passing templars and did some of my own research. I've been worried that it would kill you to stop like this." She admits quietly.

Cullen takes the bowl and puts it on the table so he can gently take her hands in his own. "I'm alright. Cassandra has been supportive and Dorian has helped. He figured it out for himself and has been giving me potions and such for the pain and nausea."

"I like him already." Mia says with a giggle. "I'm glad you're safe. You hardly write so it was such a surprise to find you on my doorstep in the middle of the night."

Cullen smiles as he releases Mia's hands so she can continue cooking breakfast. "I…had to make the best decision for Dorian. I didn't know if he would survive the trip back to Skyhold, but even if he did I wasn't sure he would be safe there. Not with his injuries. So I brought him here. It was closer and I knew he would be safe."

"Why wouldn't he be safe at Skyhold?" Mia wonders.

"He's not just a mage…he's from Tevinter." Cullen explains and frowns. "Dorian has more than proven himself to our cause but some people still believe he's a spy or simply don't like that he's there. I was afraid they would take advantage of his wounds."

"I've spoken to Gaius. He knows you're here and you're welcome to stay as long as you need." Mia turns again and ushers Cullen to a chair before setting a plate of food in front of him. "Here. Eat. You're too thin."

"You can thank the lyrium for that." Cullen grunts and digs into his breakfast. "I'm sorry for the mess I brought inside. I can clean it up."

"Oh don't worry about that. I've already cleaned it up. It was an emergency…but don't make a habit of it or I'll make you scrub the floors until they shine!"

"Yes, ma'am." Cullen mumbles making her laugh.

"Finish eating then go get some more rest and make sure Dorian eats. Gaius and I will go into town to find a healer and get you some clothes."

Cullen stops and pats down his pants until realizing he wasn't wearing his own clothes and that his coin purse was upstairs. "I'll give you gold for both. Dorian is…he takes pride in his clothes."

Mia laughs. "I'll see what I can find. I think I can manage since I washed his clothes this morning."

Cullen nods and finishes his breakfast, thanking Mia as she takes his plate, and heads back up to the bedroom after she hands him Dorian's bowl of broth again. To Cullen's surprise, he found the mage partially awake and even sitting up against some pillows. His eyes were clearer than they had been the night before so Cullen knew the broth had helped.

"Are you hungry? Mia made you more broth." Cullen tells him and hands over the bowl when Dorian nods and reaches out for it. "Do you need help?"

Dorian shook his head and slowly, but surely, ate his broth under his own power. Cullen was glad to see that the mage was recovering well but he was still concerned about Dorian's throat. He still winced as he swallowed, but his other wounds showed signs of healing when Cullen changed his bandages the night before.

"I'll need to change your bandages when you're finished." Cullen tells him as he sits on the edge of the bed next to Dorian. "Are you feeling any better? Do you need anything?"

Dorian nods and looks around the room as if in search of something, but when he doesn't find what he's looking for, he sets his bowl in his lap and reaches out to grab Cullen's wrist. The commander watches as Dorian turns his hand palm up and starts moving his finger across it, and he immediately recognizes the letters the mage is spelling out.

Water.

Cullen nods immediately. "Of course. Is that all?"

Dorian seems to ponder the question before writing across Cullen's palm again.

A book.

"I'll see if Mia has anything you might like." Cullen tells him, and Dorian nods before pulling his hands away and picking up his bowl to finish eating. When he does, Cullen takes his bowl and takes it back downstairs to hand off to Mia. "Do you have any books that Dorian could read?"

"You can check the shelf in the living room." She answers. "I'm afraid there's not much though. I can look for something in town."

"Thank you." Cullen grabs a cup and fills it with water. "I'm sure he would appreciate that. I'll go get my coin purse now."

Mia nods and Cullen makes a quick stop in the living room to grab any books he thought Dorian might like, and finds that his sister was right. There wasn't much to speak of. Most of the books were Chantry related and Cullen knew those would bore Dorian so he grabbed everything else before taking them and the water up to the mage. Dorian immediately takes the cup and downs its contents gratefully, uncaring of the pain it was probably causing his throat. Then he finally eyes the books in Cullen's other hand curiously which the commander holds out to him.

"It's not much but Mia said she'll find something for you while they're in town. These should at least keep you occupied."

Dorian takes the books and places them in his lap so he can grab Cullen's wrist again and turn his hand to write on it with his finger.

Thank you. For everything.

"You're my friend Dorian." Cullen says softly. "No thanks is needed."

#cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #cullrian

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kiame-sama · 3 years

Text

28 Years - Yandere!Silva x Reader (2nd Pregnancy)

Many have asked and now, here it is!!

Warnings; Dub-con, pregnancy, yandere relationship, manipulation, mention of past abuse, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, nsfw, Silva extreme views, family bonding,

It had been a few years- close to six- but the scars of your emotional turmoil were still present in your behavior and actions. You would become distressed whenever Silva attempted to be intimate with you, only calming down when he would back off, giving you the space you needed. Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn't, but he generally had not lain a single hand on you with any intent to hurt or force you to do anything.

It seemed he might have learned from his egregious error of taking Illumi away from you and punishing you for running away from him. Now he was cautious and treated you like glass in his grip, still keeping you close as often as possible and readjusting you to his touch. Some progress has been made- you no longer flinched from his touch or sobbed when he held you- but you still reacted like you were being burned or tortured with any kind of intimacy.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Silva hated seeing your pained expression, listening to your frightened whimpers and cries, seeing your panic whenever he tried to pin you under him, and most of all he hated how you never seemed to enjoy intimacy with him anymore. Even when he had first kidnapped you, you would make such loud noises and moans of pleasure any time he touched you and now you just panicked and cried. He didn't think your rejection of his affection would impact him so deeply, but he honestly couldn't remain hard or cum when you cried in such a way whenever he took you.

He was unable to enjoy it if you didn't enjoy it.

He could be a patient man, but he also had burning needs that drew him into near feral insanity if he refused to indulge in them. Silva NEEDED you. He needed your touch, your affection, your intimacy, all of it. He had tried to ignore his needs more than once before and almost every time he was unable to last very long, aching with desire just to feel your touch against his skin.

Even if it meant you were striking him or cursing at him, he would feverishly accept your touch with absolute glee. He was so sick with how desperately he needed you. His only 'cure' to this aching need was indulgence in his addiction to you. He was addicted to everything you had to offer and to everything you did. Nothing other than you mattered to him because you were his world. You were his love, his light, his everything.

True to his assassin nature, he quietly entered the room, frowning upon seeing you curled up in your shared bed and slightly shivering from the cold his absence seemed to cause. He chose to wake you gently, massaging your shoulders and murmuring softly to you in a husky hum.

"(Y/n), wake up..."

"Ngh... Hm? Silva? What is it?"

"I want to try something with you."

He felt your body stiffen as you fully awoke due to his words, fear and anxiety shooting through you almost violently at the implications his words had. You could only muster a whimper and start shaking your head back and forth, not trusting your words to be enough to deny his advances. Still he persisted, arms snaking around your midsection and pulling your back up against a warm chest.

"Shh... Trust me."

"No... No. No! No no no no no no no no!"

You were thrashing like a wild animal at this point, clawing for freedom and screaming out as if in pain, biting him when you could as you tried to wrench yourself from his grasp. He continued to simply hold you close as you thrashed, wailing and fighting his grip with all you had. But even your energy had to die down at some point, panting and whining pathetically as you lay exhausted in his arms.

"It's alright. It's okay... See? You're okay."

"No..."

"Yes. Have I hurt you during all of this?"

"... No..."

"See? I just need you to trust me. It won't hurt and we can take this as slowly as you want."

"I don't want it..."

"You do. You just think you don't because you're scared. I hurt you. I have done you wrong and unknowingly enforced the idea of intimacy being a punishment. I should have shown restraint and should have never done what I did to make you run in the first place. Let me show you this is different. Let me show you it's okay."

"..."

Your whimpers quieted as you lay hyper aware of any movement Silva made, feeling one arm drag down your side and his hand come to a rest on your lower stomach. When you didn't immediately try to push him away, he continued to follow the soft curve of your body until his large hand was parting your thighs. He slid his hand into your sleep pants where he cupped your heat and gently kissed your shoulder, slowly beginning to rub light pressure over your sensitive body.

The softest of noises left you, some kind of mix between a whimper and a moan, uncertain if you were whining from fear or due to the gentle movements of your husband. When Silva added a bit more pressure to your warm heat, you expected a flash of pain to stab through you, instead a soothing sensation ran through your mind and compelled you to calm just a bit more. Your light moans seemed to be the only confirmation Silva needed to keep going, sliding his hand gently between your soft folds, fingers prodding at your wet entrance.

Your mewling moans turned into gasps of pleasure as you gripped his thick arm, pressing back against his warm chest and whining in bliss. The light feeling of his lips trailing over your neck made you whine and shiver, hips beginning to slowly move with his relaxed strokes. You could feel how much your responses were affecting him given the rock-hard length that pressed stiffly against your back, pulsing in desire and need.

He tugged at your loose sleep clothes, easily sliding them off of your body, leaving you bare against his broad chest. His hands were warm as they slid over your chilled flesh, letting the heat sink into your body and warm you to the core. It was clear he was taking great care to not cause you any level of pain, given his relaxed touch and gentle behavior.

You whimpered when he moved so you were laying face-down on the bed, your hips raised up and his muscled body over your own. The firmness that pressed against you made you mewl and turn your head to look at him in vague fear despite the slick that coated your thighs. It was clear you were still frightened and hesitant to the idea of intimacy with Silva after what he had done to you, but the large hands on your hips gave you little room to voice that fear.

"Shh... It's alright..."

He shifted above you and you were about to question what it was he was doing when an intense warmth met your pulsing pussy, gasping and gripping at the blankets as an obscene slurping sound met your ears. Silva lapped his tongue at your soaked heat, making you mewl and cry out against the blankets beneath you, arching your back as pleasure hummed through your entire body. You couldn't stop the moans that tumbled from your lips due to the mind-numbing bliss that sparked through your brain, balling up your fists as you tried to hold back the sounds.

"Fuck..! Fuck, it- it's so good..!"

You were practically drooling at that point from the pleasure that coiled itself tightly in your abdomen, your eyes clenching shut as you continued to whine loudly. Silva seemed to only be spurred on from your pleasured noises, sinking his tongue as deeply into you as he could, gripping your hips and moving you in time with his desperate licking. When you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, you let out a loud screech of bliss as that coil snapped and flooded your body with euphoria, shaking from the sheer force of the pleasure.

"There we go... Fuck, you look so good squirting for me like this."

A whine left your exhausted form as he slid two fingers into you, moving and scissoring them slowly to get your warm walls to loosen for him. You were able to just lean into your pillows, feeling the echos of pleasure building up inside of you once more as Silva slowly but surely worked you over. He continued with his slow movements, letting you move your hips back against his fingers and fucking yourself on them at the pace you wanted all while admiring the wonderful view he had of your blissed out expression.

When your hips began to slightly stutter and jerk at a faster pace, he pulled away from you, relishing the sound of your needy whine of disapproval. He didn't hesitate to lick his fingers clean of your slick, getting a few more slow strokes of his tongue on your soaked pussy before getting to the matter at hand. He lined himself up, only allowing the tip of his large cock to rub against your tight hole as he gently massaged your hips.

"Would you like more?"

"Ple-please! Yes- yes, please, Silva! I need- ngh- I need more!"

"Then go ahead and take more. Go as fast or as slowly as you wish. Take my cock into you."

Silva was actually slightly surprised at how you reacted to his words, almost trying to take him in too quickly as you pushed your hips back, letting him sink deeper into you. The sheer stretch of taking his entire length was enough to make your toes curl in pleasure, needing to pause for a moment just to try and adjust to the full feeling. Some part of him wondered if you were even fully aware of the grasp you had on his heart, the sole being that held all of his affections and attention.

"Silva..! Please..! I need you to move..!"

You were mewling under him, gripping the sheets tightly as you whimpered and tightly closed your eyes. It was clear that you were in need of some kind of release and he was the only one who could provide it for you.

He wouldn't deny your breathy pleas, at least.

Starting with a slow tempo that built up to a near impossible speed, the bed creaked and complained loudly beneath you due to his unrelenting thrusts. You were in mind-numbing bliss and truly didn't care about the absolute racket you were making as you practically screamed out your moans, letting the sculpted man move your body as he pleased. Silva was in a similar state, lost to the pleasure of hearing your sweet moans as he buried himself inside of you.

He had yearned for such a sound for quite a bit now and your rejection of his affection over the past few years had left him nearly starved for you. Truly, there was only so much he was able to take when it came to resisting his physical need for your touch, wanting desperately to just hold you and have you cry out for him. He was finally able to feel your tight walls milk his hot cock and listen to your breathy moans, seeing you writhe in pleasure from the large cock buried inside of you.

"Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love me. Scream it for me."

"Ngh-! Silva! I- fuck- I love it..! So big..! So damn good! Please! Please I need more!"

Despite the fact you did not say everything he wanted to hear, Silva continue to rut into you with fast angled thrusts that made you practically see stars. His grip on your hips was tight, but you didn't register anything other than that thick length moving inside of you wildly. Even as your eyes rolled back, you couldn't help the whining moans that wrenched from your throat fiercely.

The moment that pressure growing within you broke, you wailed out in a near tortured moan while pleasure washed over you for what felt like ages. The hot ropes of cum filling up your soft stomach only seemed to prolong the pleasure that ran through your veins, as if time itself stood still around you. When Silva finally pulled out of you, you collapsed on the bed and panted heavily, feeling almost too full as you moved to a much more comfortable position.

Silva's large arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, letting you sink into the warm heat that radiated from his sculpted figure. It was truly as if the two of you were just basking in the presence of one another all while you slipped back off into sleep, content with the warm figure that held you so close. Silva took longer to just enjoy the moment after finally getting to embrace you once more without any fear getting in the way.

For now, it seems he had managed to mend the scars of his egregious error and had you content to be with him once more.

~~~~~~~~

You lay on your side, curled up on the tile floor of your shared bathroom, trying to get the queasy feeling to subside enough to move. You honestly couldn't remember a time where you felt half as unwell as you did at that moment, feeling tears sting your eyes as your throat burned with exhaustion. At that point, all you really wanted was to sleep, but with the current exhausted state your body was in, you had no way of reaching the comfort of your bed or the warm embrace of your blankets.

The quiet sound of your door opening drew what little you had left of your attention span, hardly able to lift your head all that far from the tile as you attempted to rouse your body into an upright position. Despite your efforts, it was clear there was no way you were going to be able to sit up and so you simply remained on the cold tile as you awaited whomever had entered the room. To your vague surprise it was not Silva who came through the door, it was Zeno and he honestly seemed as if he hadn't expected to find you in the state you were currently in.

With a surprising gentleness, the elder came to your side and rest the back of his hand on your forehead. He seemed to have some level of honest concern as he gazed down at your exhausted form splayed out on the tile.

"Shall I go retrieve that useless doctor of yours?"

"... Please..."

It took more effort than you had expected to huff out that one word, feeling oddly cared for and respected simply for the fact he asked what you wanted instead of acting of his own accord. Silva would have never done that. He would have taken one look at your unwell state and practically ran to retrieve your kind doctor to have you checked for any cause that may explain your current position.

It didn't take long for him to send out word to have your doctor come to your room before he was back by your side. Truly, if there ever were a time you felt honest appreciation for your father in law, it would be at that exact moment. He could have easily left you to suffer alone on the tile and instead not only sent for help, but returned to your side to wait with you.

"Is there anything you need at this moment?"

"..."

You tried to form some kind of sentence to respond to him, but you felt as if the energy had just been ripped out of you as your eyes began to slowly close. A sharp snapping sound brought your attention back to the man before you who now seemed to almost be more than just concerned.

"No sleeping. Not yet. Do your best to remain awake, Brat."

The faintest of smiles pulled at your lips when you heard that name that he only used for those he felt responsible for as well as those he cared for. Zeno was an assassin through and through and was a proud man at that, but he did have some kind of emotions that were reserved for family and close friends of the family. He was cold and to the point with almost everyone, but he was far more gruff and pushy with those he actually cared about given the way he has had to live on where his wife had died delivering Silva.

It was the only way he knew how to show affection.

"Where..?"

"Silva? Just left on a job this morning. A long job. It should take him at the least a month, if not longer. Of course you would choose now of all days to fall ill, Brat."

"Not.. dead yet..."

A low huff of amusement came from the older man as he sighed and sat next to you on the floor, keeping you constant company despite having no obligation to do so.

"I'm not telling Silva about this until he gets back. You know as well as I do that he would leave the job the moment he heard you were unwell. That fool loves you more than even he realizes."

His words, though harsh, made complete sense to you. Often you had thought that Silva was far more obsessed with you than anyone else realized, given how you were one of the very few who ever saw his true nature without the trained restraint and cold tone he almost always had. He was mentally unwell due to his upbringing and obsessed with you beyond reason, and he believed his actions were justified due to his familial heritage when it came to what they considered to be love.

Maha lived through it. Zeno's father died from it. Zeno lived through it. Silva will die from it.

An insane love that compelled them to do all they could to obtain and keep the object of their affections, even going as far as kidnapping and imprisonment. Silva's sickness is worse than theirs had been, and he is the only one that managed to keep his darling- you- alive. They understood and accepted the obsession he had with you and were content to keep you in Silva's arms as long as possible.

The door to your room opened with a loud creak before Kikyo made her way into the bathroom where you lay. It was clear she moved in a much more rushed pace when she saw you laying on the tile shivering, not even needing to be told to start checking you. She was being much more gentle and seemed to be far more expressive than usual as she examined you with great care.

"It seems to me you may be pregnant again."

You felt surprise run through your veins, but that surprise dulled down for a moment as you recounted what it was like when you were pregnant with Illumi. It certainly made sense, especially given all that happened up to that point.

"If she is pregnant again, I need to have a chat with Silva about keeping his damn hands off her child this time."

"Yes, sir. Shall I contact-"

"Tell him and I'll make you wish you never even considered it to begin with."

~~~~Three Months~~~~

You sat next to Zeno as you remained curled up nice and cozy in your heated blanket, sharing it with the elder who kept you company thus far in your pregnancy. Silva was expected to return any day now and you both knew the absolute fit he would throw the moment he learned what his father had been keeping from him. At least you had some peace and quiet without Silva around for a good bit, though part of you figured he would never accept another long job seeing as something important had been kept from him because of it.

Regardless, you were comfortable and starting to doze off when an unexpected question snapped you awake.

"That doctor of yours, she's the one who set you free after Silva took Illumi from you, isn't she?"

Your surprise must have been clear on your face as Zeno simply nodded, not taking his eyes away from the large television screen you two had been watching. He didn't seem particularly surprised at the answer to his question, nor did he seem all that angry either. It was almost like he knew the whole time but still wanted you to confirm it before he accepted it as truth.

"Please don't-"

"I won't tell Silva. I figured that was the case when you had somehow managed to get out. There would have been no way for you to do it on your own and the only person who had access to you outside of the family was her. To tell you the truth, part of me had actually hoped that you would manage to get away. To escape this place."

"... Why?"

"Because in many ways you remind me of my own wife. Often I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't caught her after she escaped. If I hadn't hurt her as Silva did to you... Perhaps she would still be here today."

You were surprised to hear all of this, having been too worried of upsetting Zeno to ask about the fate of his wife. It seemed she had been in the same boat you were currently in, but it had killed her where you had managed to survive. Before you could ask any more questions about the mysterious woman Zeno spoke so rarely of, the door swung open with a familiar level of force that made you jump slightly in response.

Silva was home.

There wasn't even enough time for you to welcome him back before you were being pulled up into his large arms, feeling his forehead against your shoulder as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His large hands easily cradled your body close to his own all while his lips roamed your soft skin feverishly. You were about to try and call out for him to stop for a moment before an old voice beat you to it.

"You can't fuck her, Silva."

"I can do what I wish with my wife, when I wish."

"Not while she's pregnant you can't."

All movement halted the moment Silva registered his father's words, tensing his entire body as he slowly came to terms with what he had been told. Silva moved rather slowly as he positioned you to be cradled in one of his large arms, his hand coming up to rest against your stomach which had already begun to swell up. He almost seemed to be in a trance while he stayed statue-still, sorting out both his thoughts and emotions on the realization.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Silva's voice was a deep and angered growl in his chest, sending shivers down your spine due to your proximity to the very man who could quite easily snap at any moment. Zeno seemed mostly unfazed by the aggressive growl and instead took to observing his sharp nails as if he were bored with the situation he found himself in. You really had to admire the old man's lack of fear while facing off with Silva, who you feared more than you cared to admit.

"Because you would have abandoned your job and that would be a terrible reflection on the Zoldyck family."

"She's been pregnant this whole time and you didn't damn well tell me?"

"Watch your tone, Brat. She's alive, isn't she?"

"How long have you known?"

"Since the very day you left. That morning was when she first began showing signs."

You felt the tension in Silva's body rise to near extreme levels, letting out a sharp cry as his grasp around your soft body tightened past the point of comfort. Your cry made Silva calm immediately and loosen his grasp so he no longer held you quite as tight. That cry seemed to have caused a temporary lapse in Silva's anger as he treated you with extreme care and gently set you back on the couch, giving you a quick once-over to check for any injuries he may have caused.

"Never again."

You looked up in confusion at Silva's lowly growled words, wondering just what he was talking about.

"I'll never leave you for that long again, I swear it."

~~~Six Months~~~

You lay in complete relaxation under your warm blanket, spooning a wonderfully soft pillow all while you dozed lightly on the couch. If anything, this pregnancy was far more... Relaxed... Than your first one had been. Silva seemed to be taking extra care to show nothing but the utmost affection towards you and your child during this whole ordeal and honestly it was doing wonders for you.

You still had that internal need to shield your stomach and your baby from the man who had caused all of this in the first place. This meant his caution around you and extra positive attention towards your unborn infant was all your brain needed to feel more secure in your fragile state even though such a dangerous man lurked nearby at all times. Silva got you anything you could possibly want the moment you brought it up regardless of what time it was or what he happened to be doing at the time you mentioned it.

Whatever food you wanted was immediately made and sent straight to you. If you wanted more blankets you need only shiver before countless blankets were being piled on top of you. Any vague sign of discomfort and Silva was immediately doing everything in his power to ease your troubles in whatever way he could.

You even got to see your first-born Illumi more than a few times as the young boy's presence soothed you immensely as did his sweet curiosity. Illumi may show little to no emotion, but what little he did show he only did so while near you. You could only smile at the memory of Illumi's large and curious eyes staring up at you questioningly while he rest his cheek against your swollen stomach.

"But how did it get in there?"

"Eh... I'll tell you when you're older, okay?"

"Okay. Hey, Mama?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"I promise to take care of any little siblings I get to have."

"That's very sweet of you, Illumi, thank you, my darling."

"Anything for you, Mama."

Despite the odd behavior and almost frightening temper of your first-born, you felt more at ease than you had given the fact that you knew your son would always be on your side regardless of what may happen. Even with his cold demeanor, Illumi showed true affection for you and seemed rather insistent that you have nothing to worry about when it came to the future of your unborn child. At least you felt as if Silva learned his lesson to not take your children away from you too early as well as learning just what a positive impact your son has on you.

You were taking a rather wonderful and deep nap after getting to spend some time with Illumi and had recently awoken, content to just lay still and let yourself slowly wake up. The slow and gentle sound of footsteps drew your attention from hazy thoughts into sharp clarity, listening for whomever they belonged to. A large hand against your stomach almost made you tense up in fear, but the gentle way it lay against your skin kept you relaxed and calm.

"If you kill her, I will come for you next."

Cold jolted down your spine as you heard the low growled words against your stomach. Silva didn't often talk to your stomach or the life within unless it was to appease some request you made or to simply cheer you up. You were well aware that Silva would not handle your untimely demise in the slightest given just how distraught he would be at any idea of you being taken away from him.

You needed to keep your baby safe. But you felt like it was a near impossible task due to Silva hovering around you almost constantly. He certainly didn't take your condition lightly and considering how he received the news months after you did, you knew he refused to spend even an hour away from your side.

To some degree you appreciated the knowledge that nothing from outside of the estate could hurt you, but you also feared the fact that your husband took his 'protector' role rather seriously and could easily cause harm to you. He always said he wouldn't and yet you felt like you knew better, especially after your first several years with him. His lowly growled out words chilled you to your core and you only hoped that he would be in a much better mood once the child was safely out of you.

~~~~ 9 1/2 Months ~~~~

When the hell was it going to end!? You head read of some pregnancies lasting up to as long as a year, but you were getting more than a little tired and Silva's patience was near nonexistent.

"That rat is NOT allowed to keep you for so long. It's coming out today."

"Silva, for once would you just let me do things my way and decide what to do?"

"I am done waiting for it to come out on its own."

"What exactly do you plan to do?"

"Get the doctors to induce labor or just cut it out of you already."

"Would you just-"

You went cold and silent as a familiar feeling washed over you, feeling a slowly growing and rolling contraction beginning to tug at your insides. The panic in your expression seemed to tell him that something had happened and he immediately dropped the subject in favor of tending to you. You were barely aware of what seemed to be going on around you as another wave of dizziness washed over you along with a rather piercing contraction.

Silva stayed with you through it all, refusing to leave even as you were rushed into the delivery room. There was not one moment that passed that Silva wasn't letting you grip as tightly as you needed to his hand, speaking in a low rumble that he only reserved for rare moments of sensitivity.

Everything was primarily a blur to you, passing by in seconds that lasted hours and hours that lasted seconds. So when you finally heard that cry and a faint congratulations, you were already blacking out far too quickly to respond as your entire body achingly tried to reduce the tension in your over worked muscles.

Silva's heart rate jacked through the roof as you went limp in his arms, clearly something having gone wrong during delivery. The honest desperation in not only his actions, but in his very being seemed to leech out any other emotion, his eyes never leaving your face all while the doctor and nurses scrambled around you to do what they could. Silva had dealt with being alone while growing up and never wanted to experience it again, the simple idea of losing you causing the most blood-thirsty aura to spill from him.

If the sheer intimidation wasn't enough to get the medical staff working desperately, that cold glare Silva had locked them with sure as hell would be. There were no questions as to the nature of the consequences they face should they fail, the presence of the dangerous man only serving to add more stress unto the delivery room. The infant had been taken away somewhere quiet and safe so the doctor and nurses could focus on your suddenly poor condition, knowing that their only chance of survival was ensuring you survived.

Silva refused to move or leave or even look away from you before the doctor was able to say confidently that you would live. Even after that time came and passed as you were brought back to a stable condition, Silva had no intention to ever leave your side.

Thanks to the fact his father kept your condition a secret on favor of Silva completing a job, Silva refused to be away from you for any longer than a few days from then on. No more month long jobs that required him to leave you for large chunks of time, now he was committed to staying by your side as often as he possibly could. He adored you and honestly figured heirs weren't worth the risk of you dying, resolving to remove any pregnancy that may occur before you became aware of it.

Two was already too many for him. He didn't want to share you with anyone, but at least the two boys will keep his father off his back about continuing the family line.

He could deal with the brats, so long as everyone knew you were his. He adored you and kidnapped you just so he could get close to you, there's no way he would give you up for anything in the world. You were his world, and ue would protect you until the bitter end.

#x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #female reader #reader insert #kiame-sama #yandere silva #daddy silva #yandere silva x reader #yandere hxh #hxh yandere #hxh silva #silva x reader #silva zoldyck x reader #yandere silva zoldyck x reader #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw pregnancy

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ijwrsmff · 3 years

Note

could i request for the dbd killers pig, huntress, death slinger and whoever else you see fit with the idea of reader suddenly disappearing in a trial? like one minute they’re fixing gens and running round the map then the next minute they somehow end up back at the campfire or something and the killers had no idea? mistakenly thinking the entity took them or something. thank you !!!

Woo! This one was really fun to do, I absolutely LOVE this idea, thank you for requesting!

The Pig (Amanda Young):

Something was wrong...you were here just a minute ago…

She saw it with her own eyes

She was stalking behind you, ready to grab and hook you but…

A dark mist encircled you and then you were just...gone

A feral yell made its way up her throat and she began stabbing into the air

Were you...gone forever?

Maybe the entity didn’t approve of her and your relationship...and took you away

She screamed into the sky, and the three remaining survivors feared for their wellbeing

The rest of the trial was...brutal

She may have mercy at some points...but not with you gone

She resigned herself into thinking you were gone for good, and took her sweet time torturing the other survivors

If you were gone...there would be no holding back

She injures the others, letting them get just far away to think they’re safe before she jumps out of the shadows and takes them

She put their torture devices on quickly, and soon all of the survivors were running on borrowed time

She began hooking the others as soon as she could, just wanting this nightmare to be over

If she would be stuck in this loop eternally...she didn’t want to do it without you

Upon returning to the campsite and seeing you sitting there talking to your other survivor friends...she began crying under her mask

You ran up to her, knowing how frightened she must be

“Hey...it’s okay Amanda, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Those words and your warm embrace were enough to soothe her aching heart

The Huntress (Anna):

She was right behind you and you knew it

She had been chasing you for what felt like forever, and you were wearing out

You turned the corner quickly and hid in a locker, hoping to throw her off your trail

But she could see the red scratches that indicated you had entered the locker

“Oh my sweet little rabbit, you didn’t think that would work, did you?”

She swung the doors of the locker open to find...nothing

She was certain you were there...there’s no way you could have left the locker without hearing or even seeing it

The rest of the trial she spent looking for you

Forget the rules, where were you?

She didn’t even care about the other survivors, you were her main priority

After a while, she pinned a survivor down

It wasn’t her fault...he got in the way

“Where is y/n”

He looked confused “what do you mean? We haven’t seen them for a while...we figured you already mori’d them…”

So not even the other survivors knew where you had went…

She sighed and let him get up, continuing her search for you

By now, all of the generators had been repaired and the countdown had begun

She didn’t care

Where had you gone…? The entity wouldn’t have taken you in the middle of a trial...right?

As soon as she was back to the killer’s campsite she ran for the survivor’s campsite hoping with all of her being that you were there

You were there

She rushed over to you and picked you up into an embrace

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again, understand?” Her words were meant to sound firm but it came across as...frail

She was so terrified of losing you it hurt

“I’m sorry I worried you...I wish I knew what happened myself but...all I know is one minute I was in the locker and the next I was back at the camp.”

She refused to let go of you, and pressed her lips softly to your forehead

“I need you...that...that scared me so much” she spoke quietly, not wanting the other survivors to think she was weak

“I need you too...we’re together forever. No matter what stunts the entity pulls.”

Death Slinger (Caleb Quinn):

When he found out the entity took you...he was livid

All of the survivors remaining were absolutely horrified

He seemed...more vicious than usual

And that’s saying something

He aimed to make quick work of the survivors, not wasting any time hooking each and every one of them

There was...a dangerous look in his eyes that made the remaining survivors terrified to the core

He didn’t see it happen, but he assumed. One minute you were there, the next you weren’t. He even tried asking the survivors he hooked where you were but...they had no idea either

He reeled the last survivor in, and made quick work of placing him on the hook

You better be at the campsite...if you weren’t...he’d attack anyone and everyone who even looked at him

He couldn’t help it...he was beyond pissed

He didn’t want to admit it...but if you were really gone for good...there’d be no point in continuing the entity’s game

He would play the game...but he would lose all will to continue if you were gone for too long

So when he had finished with the trial, he immediately sprinted to the edge of the survivors camp

To say he was relieved when he saw you would be an understatement

You looked up to him with the eyes he so deeply loved and ran up to him

He pulled you into a hug immediately

He wasn’t one to show physical affection where the others could see...but this was an exception

“Leave me like that again and I’ll be sure to kill you in the most painful way possible.”

How comforting

At least you know he cares

The Shape (Michael Myers):

You were his primary target

Often, you were

In his mind...he was sparing you from continuing the game the entity had set up

He was saving you

He made sure it was as painless as possible...unless he was mad

Either about how the game had gone so far, or something else

But this time...when he was about to pull you from the generator, a dark mist enveloped your form and you were simply...gone

He stood still a moment, processing what he had just witnessed before his eyes narrowed and he kicked the generator with all the strength he had

The rest of the trial was...absolutely brutal

He made things as painful as he possibly could

It made him feel...a little better

Not enough though

If he could scream out, he would have

Instead, he settled on making the survivors remainder of the trial complete and utter hell

By the time he had hooked the last survivor they had less than half of the generators complete

He wasn’t wasting any time, that was for sure

When he appeared back at the campsite he stalked off into the dark between the two camps

You were there waiting for him…

“Michael! I was so worried, are you okay?” You placed your hands on the sides of his mask, something you did when you were trying to comfort him

It worked, and his demeanor changed

A small noise left his throat, and to you it sounded almost like...a whine

“I’m so sorry I scared you...but I’m here now and that's what matters!”

He placed his hands on your cheeks, mirroring your actions

You smiled up at him, and leaned up to press a kiss to his mask

“I’m here now...you don’t have to worry about me leaving anytime soon...okay?”

He nodded and pulled you closer into a warm hug

“I won’t leave you...I promise.”

#dbd #dbd x reader #x reader #the pig dbd #the pig x reader #amanda young x reader #the huntress dbd #the huntress x reader #anna huntress x reader #deathslinger x reader #the deathslinger x reader #caleb quinn x reader #slasher imagines #fluff #angst/comfort

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turtle-babe83 · 3 years

Note

hello dear,

Can I order a 20,11,29 please With Mikey (bayers ) Pretty pleaaase????

thank u kindly ^+^

You absolutely can sis! 🧡 I hope this is what you were looking for.

Warning: Language and NSFW 18+ only

Trouble. He was absolute trouble with a capital T. A ball of perpetual energy with a penchant for mischief. And. You. Loved. Him.

“Hey Mikey, have you seen my -“

You looked up to find your panties twirling at the end of one thick green finger. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed for them, only to have the lacy fabric pulled just out of reach.

“Come on, I have to get ready!”

You watched, unamused, as your boyfriend made a slingshot out of them, sending them flying who knows where in his mess of a room. Fine. You could go without underwear. So, where were your pants? You squinted your eyes as you scanned the room. Wait, what was that poking out from under the bed? Your bra? You started forward when suddenly, two big green arms wrapped around your waist.

“Don’t go,” he whined in your ear, “you know you wanna stay here with me.”

“Mikey, I have to go to work! I stayed the night, is that not enough?”

“I never get enough of you, Babycakes.”

It’s hard to argue when two soft pillowy lips are trailing a molten path down the side of your neck. No, focus!

“I’m going to be late because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“You had no complaints about me getting it out of my pants last night.....”

“Mikey! You horn dog!” you attempted to smack at him, but he quickly restrained your arms with a laugh. You resorted to glaring.

“Look, I’m just sayin’, you’re naked, I’m naked,” he twirled you around, licking his lips lewdly.

You managed to twist out of his grasp, grabbing one of his old T-shirts and throwing it on for decency sake. When you opened the door, he got concerned.

“Hey, don’t be mad. You can’t leave wearing just that!”

You roll your eyes, “Relax, I’m just going for a quick shower.”

No one else was up yet, or at least no one had left their rooms as you made your way to the bathroom. You didn’t realize you had been followed until you tried to shut the door behind you, only to have it blocked by a big two-toed foot.

“I heard shower sex is dangerous, but right now, I’m willing to take the risk.”

You gave up. Mikey always managed to get his way with you, and it was your own fault for indulging him. You stepped out of the way, letting him in, and pulled off the shirt that was five sizes too big.

“Lock the door, at least.” you muttered, stepping into the shower and turning on the spray.

When Mikey joined you, he looked like a kid who was just given the keys to a candy store. How did he always get so excited about being with you? Despite your earlier frustrations, you were melting under the look in his big baby blue eyes and the way he was smiling that certain smile, the one reserved only for you.

“Ah c’mere,” you reached for him and he swept you up in his arms, pressing his face into the side of your neck. You giggled as the tip of his tongue came out to tease just behind your ear. When your mouths met, it was teeth and tongue, wet heat and urgency. This was why you could never deny him. He was every fantasy you had ever had and so many you never realized you wanted. You were utterly addicted.

Turning you around, away from the spray, he pushed you forward and had you plant your hands on the built in shower seat. Leaning over you, he slid his hands up to cup your breasts, twisting and pinching your pert nipples. Spurred on by your moans, he pressed wet, open mouthed kisses down your spine. Then he was kneeling behind you, gently pushing your legs farther apart. You glanced back at him, to see him staring, enraptured by the pretty pink display your pussy presented.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “will you marry me?”

You started to laugh, but it quickly turned to a low groan as his tongue swept over your cunt, pressing firmly and intent on snagging every drop of your essence. Clit sucking, labia nibbling, core stabbing, you want it? He’s got it. He never let up for a second, eating you out like his last meal on death row and he wasn’t letting one drop go to waste. You felt thoroughly worshipped, but every time he brought you to the edge, he would change techniques.

“Mikey!” you whined.

“Yes, Angelcakes?”

“I wanna cum!”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he grinned mischievously. You threw him a surly look over your shoulder and pushed your ass out further to encourage him to finish you off. The big tease. Returning to your pussy with a vengeance, he latched on your clit and flicked his tongue over it with speed and fervor. Feeling your orgasm building again, you moaned uncontrollably. When he finally sucked it, you exploded. A wail worked its way out of your mouth as your release came over you in waves. Mikey just licked away at your juices as you came down. Your legs shook slightly and Mikey kissed your thighs and nipped a butt cheek as he stood.

“Can you keep going?” he murmured, lifting your upper body and bracing your hands on the wall of the shower. You managed to nod. Pressing up against your back, he lined himself up with your slick entrance, and grasping your hips, he began to push slowly through your folds. No matter how many times you had joined like this, that first stretch was bliss. Not really painful, but hovering at the edge. Once he was fully seated inside your moist heat, he waited, allowing you to adjust and to tease himself a bit.

“Fucking move!” you groaned, squirming at the full sensation.

He planted his hands on either side of yours and bent his knees just enough to torture you with short, shallow strokes. He chuckled at your growls of frustration. He lifted your leg and set your foot at the edge of the shower seat, pulling your ass out a little closer. You couldn’t suppress a shiver as he leaned in close to your ear, with one demand. “Brace yourself.”

Oh shit. That was all the warning you got before he was pounding your pussy into the next dimension. Your cheek was pressed against the shower wall, hands splayed out, thighs jiggling. The noises you emitted only rivaled his own as you both chased the high of release.

So close, so close, so close, “fuuuuuuuck!”

At the tightening of your core, Mikey felt his own orgasm burst over him. He grasped your hips as he pumped out his seed, determined to give you every last drop. He gathered you back against his chest with a satisfied sigh. Grabbing the shower sprayer, he began to rinse you both off, while you silently thanked Donnie for the miraculous water heater he designed. Mikey wrapped you up in a towel and carried you back to his room. Your legs were jelly and you decided to just call in to work. Who needed a job anyway, right? Right. Mikey only felt a smidge of guilt over it.

Lazily, you leaned back against the headboard and watched as he rummaged through a box he had pulled out from under the bed.

“You know, you never did answer me,” he murmured, wrapping something in his fist.

“Hmm, what? What did you ask me?” you frowned, genuinely confused.

Mikey sat across from you and took your hand in his, palm up. He placed a small black box in the center and popped it open. You felt your heart nearly stop, then start again at a galloping rhythm.

“Y/n, will you do me the incredible honor of being my Wifeycakes?”

A laughing sob was all you could manage, nodding your head vigorously. His face lit up as he slid the ring on your tiny finger. Yep, he was trouble. The best kind.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt bayverse #fan fiction #fanfic #michelangelo #tmnt fandom #thanks for the ask!#smut prompts #bayverse mikey #tmnt mikey x reader

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ichor-and-symbiosis · 4 years

Text

Breakfast Blues. (Shigaraki x f!Reader, NSFWish)

Tomura could tell something was off as soon as he entered the kitchen. Your smile felt a little too forced, your eyes a little too hopeful as you plated a bowl of rice and eggs for him, hesitating for a moment to speak. It put him in a sour mood. He didn't like having to pry answers from you.

He usually managed to swipe his breakfast away and go back to his room for privacy, but you were making this increasingly difficult for him lately. It started with inane attempts to get him into conversations with you, which really was a stupid idea, given the fact that he never mustered more than a few grunts in the morning. His growling stomach initially helped fighting you off, but you seemed to have a backbone today.

Gripping the dishes in hand, you offered him a meek smile and asked, "Would you like to eat together?"

His eyes narrowed as he frowned. "Why?" his voice croaked out, scratchy and unpleasant from disuse.

"I just thought it would be nice. You're busy a lot, so ... "

"So?" Your confidence faltered under his scrutinizing stare. Something about your dying smile made him even more irritated, or perhaps confused. And he did not like feeling confused. "I'm hungry, woman."

Sensing his displeasure, you wordlessly handed over the breakfast and looked away. Under different circumstances, Tomura liked teasing you in this state. So secretive and cute, your lips set in a stubborn pout and your chin cast downwards for him to inevitably grip and force your attention back to him.

But he was so damn hungry and he had a game loaded on his computer for his return.

Tomura turned to leave, having decided he waited enough for your comeback. It was only the glaring absence of your shuffling feet and the tinkering of cookware that made him pause for a split second at the threshold. Just a quick glance to satiate his curiosity.

You stood exactly where he left you, still looking away, hands wringing together without anything else to hold. Defeated and hurt. The sting of negative emotions welled up inside him so suddenly that he immediately took off, wishing he had a free hand to scratch his neck.

No amount of homecooked breakfast or countless wins could erase his lingering discontent. Tomura tried to ignore that strange encounter with you, burying his thoughts in strategies and shit-talking as he let the time slip away. But try as he might, he just couldn't shake it off. Throwing aside his game console, Tomura leered at the clock and slumped in his chair, annoyed at the realization that you hadn't visited him this whole time.

You were nowhere to be found in the apartment. A cursory glance at his phone showed him a single text from you. I'm going out with Toga. Be back later.

You didn't even send him a heart emoji.

It was a stupid thing to set him off. Everything about today was stupid. You were stupid, he was stupid, his damn neediness was stupid, even the breakfast bowls he brought to the sink were stupid. What kind of world was this, where he, Shigaraki Tomura, successor of Japan's most dangerous criminal, brought his dishes to the kitchen and moped about a goddamn heart emoji.

He needed a drink.

It was a testament to his bad mood that Tomura chose to walk all the way to the bar instead of asking Kurogiri to warp him there. His eyes scanned the streets in a vain attempt to track you down among the crowd, but you were nowhere to be found and he was growing anxious by the minute.

Tomura kicked the door open and hopped the counter to pilfer the expensive liquor stash. His taste gravitated towards the most expensive rum in the collection. He could certainly chase his sorrows away with cheap swill or rubbing alcohol, but if he was going to torture his body tonight, then he would do so with style. It was all worthless in the end, anyway.

He sat by himself for who knows how long. It was utterly pathetic and he knew he had better things to do, yet every time he tried to pull himself away from the counter, his head spun uncomfortably and the amber liquid beckoned him towards a numbing buzz. His phone lay abandoned on the counter, having been checked several times for a text or a phone call from you.

You hadn't even called to find out where he was. He had half a mind to wonder if you would walk through the door to surprise him, but there were only so many times he could glance at the door before the urge to disintegrate it took hold. He grabbed the rum bottle instead, messily pouring more liquor into his glass as he ignored the distortion of the air in front of him. He was in no state of mind to stare straight into Kurogiri's spinning portal. The very thought of it made him slam the bottle down and hold onto it for dear life to compose himself.

Kurogiri appeared behind the bar, quietly assessing the state of his charge. He pulled out a rag to mop up spilled liquor and eyed Tomura's heavy movements as he let go of the rum and took the glass in a white-knuckled grip.

"You are alone."

Tomura grunted, taking a swig to avoid conversation. His guardian was smart enough to immediately pick up his mood. It was both annoying and reassuring to see those golden eyes narrow in astute observation.

"It is rare for your lover to be absent."

"..."

A moment of silence. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but you seem to be more upset than usual."

Tomura snorted. "Yeah, no shit." He stared at the rum glass in frustration, glaring at the alcohol as though it had personally offended him. His fingertips curled around the rim as he lifted the glass and swirled the liquid around, irate at the stretching silence. It was bad enough he had to deal with your petulant absence. Now he had to endure Kurogiri's calm patience, too.

His fingers gripped the glass tighter as he contemplated satisfying his urge to decay, to give him some form of release from the frustration currently plaguing him. The blaring noise of his video games would be a welcome respite from this silence. Instead, he was forced to nurse a headache while Kurogiri made him feel like a child.

All because of you. You had a hold on him even when you were gone. Perhaps even more poignant because you were gone.

"It's fucking dumb," Tomura grumbled. And it was. The situation was so unbelievably ridiculous that he clammed up again, unable to voice his problems lest he fly into a rage over the mental image of your sorrowful eyes and quivering bottom lip.

"What happened?"

"I don't even know. She's been acting weird the past week and it all blew over this morning." His leg jittered restlessly against the footrest. He crossed his leg over his thigh to regain some semblance of control, letting out a sharp sigh as he scratched his neck. "I just wanted some damn breakfast. That's all. And that woman stood there looking like I broke up with her just because I didn't want to eat with her."

"Were you doing something important?"

Oh, he did not like that question. He did not like it one bit.

"I was in the middle of gaming," Tomura growled through clenched teeth. "Don't even try to bitch at me about it."

"That was not my intention. I know how important your lifestyle is to you." Tomura stared at him, feeling his anger somehow slip through the cracks and fizzle away. Kurogiri took the whiskey bottle beside him and poured more into the emptying glass. "Has this happened before?"

"No. Sometimes she tried to keep me there longer with dumb small-talk, but she's never flat out asked. And the damn look on her face when I - " Tomura cut himself off with a frustrated growl. Your defeated expression haunted him once more. He downed the liquor in one go and reveled in the horrible burn tearing his throat apart. "What the hell does she want from me?" he forced out, staring hard into the distance as a sudden sense of shame stabbed him like a knife.

"If I may speculate ... " Kurogiri paused, waiting for his rebuke. When none came, an answer followed. "You are often preoccupied throughout the day. Perhaps she simply misses you and craves your attention."

Tomura opened his mouth and promptly closed it. A bout of dizziness hit him. Was it the alcohol or the crashing realization of how obvious the answer had been?

The logic of Kurogiri's statement was so absurdly simple that it had to be true. Because you really were just so simple. Uncomplicated in your motives, always wearing your heart on your sleeve, and always so flagrantly loving and patient with him. Tomura looked away from Kurogiri, hating how well his guardian knew not only him, but you, too.

A little flame of happiness kindled deep inside him, threatening to chase away the darkness of his bitter emotions. You hadn't been difficult on purpose this morning. You just wanted to spend time with him.

His bleary gaze settled on the monitor resting at the other end of the bar. How would his mentor react to this situation?

The silence coming from the monitor felt altogether different from what he experienced so far. It was uncomfortable and imposing, filling his ears with white noise and clouding his thoughts. Tomura stared at his reflection in the black screen and frowned, hyper-aware of the way his eyes had softened while he thought about you, the way he looked so boyish and tired.

Look at what she is turning you into, the screen seemed to say.

"Shigaraki Tomura." He tore his gaze away from his reflection and met Kurogiri's expressionless face. "Is it a weakness to enjoy feeling wanted?"

His brows furrowed in thought.

Tomura made up with you in the most typical fashion. That is to say, he cornered you at home and snuffed out any further talk by devouring your lips with incessant kisses, taking you right on the living room couch and stalking after you to your bedroom for more. It was a love language he knew best, letting you feel his feverish desire with every deep thrust, the firm iron grip of his hands on your soft hips and thighs, his groans and whispered demands for more of you, more of your tight heat and your gentle fingers outlining his scars, touching his rough lips, nails digging into his back as you mewl for more of him.

You were hellfire. There was no liquor strong enough in the world to burn him half as much as his need to tell you he loved you. The words clawed and tore at his chest, inflamed his throat until he choked on them, forcing him to spit out twisted versions of the truth. Cowardly, pathetic half-truths about how you belonged to him, how you were his and his alone.

And you still smiled at him for it. You took all that he gave you and asked for so little in return.

Is it a weakness to enjoy feeling wanted?

The question plagued him throughout the night as your arms held him close, his head pillowed on your chest while he listened to your soft breathing and felt the beat of your heart whispering an answer he could not decipher.

Tomura awoke to your absence. It was not a rare occurrence. The split-second paranoia washing over him was not rare, either. He ran from that feeling many times before, immediately sick at the thought of how lonely he felt without you. It was pathetic. He should not feel this way about anyone. He should feel empty, as though you were just a moment of entertainment, an experience to be had and a level to beat in the game of life.

But you were well past that point now. Whether or not he could say it aloud, Tomura was in love. So if you wanted to have breakfast together, then you had better prepare yourself for his morning attitude.

He caught you a little early this time. You were in the middle of stirring an omelette when he crept up behind you, jolting in surprise as he pressed himself to your back and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Good morning," you greeted him, giving him a peck on the cheek. A light smile played on your lips. "I'm almost done."

Tomura purred a noncommittal response and curled his fingers around your jaw, angling your head back to capture your mouth in a lazy kiss. Your pleased sigh broke off into a stilted noise as he dipped his tongue inside and made sure you felt every slow lick and suck to your lips. His arm tightened in response to you melting against him, mentally debating whether he should let you finish cooking or to find the nearest surface to defile.

A sizzling pop from the frying pan caught your attention. You kissed him hard and returned to your duty, using your spatula to roll the omelette into shape. Your tongue peaked out from your reddened lips as you made a face of mild disgust. "You didn't brush, nasty."

"Didn't stop you though," Tomura countered, grinning at your wry expression.

You spooned the cooked food onto a nearby plate and cracked another egg into the pan. He waited for your invitation, good mood dampening by the second as you settled into your routine without another word. It was an expected reaction, to be fair. He hurt you yesterday and now he was paying for it.

Your questioning glance put him on alert. "Do you need something else?"

He wracked his brain for a response. Something that could keep him here longer without raising further suspicion. "Orange juice."

"It's in the fridge. Can you pour me some, too?"

Tomura forced himself to detach from you, taking his time to complete the task as he watched your progress from the corner of his eye. Cups placed on the table. Orange juice poured at a strategically slow rate. By the time he finished, your breakfast had been plated and you left it unattended to hurriedly put the forgotten box of eggs back into the fridge. Tomura used this distraction to take both plates to the table, setting yours across from him as he plopped down onto the chair and began to eat.

You caught on as soon as the fridge door closed. Tomura could feel your stare on him while he downed the orange juice. He glanced at you nonchalantly, eyebrow raised as though you were the one behaving abnormally.

"You're joining me?" you asked, a hint of hope coloring your voice as you sat down.

"Clearly."

You smiled so sweetly that he felt his heart stammer and restart. "Wow. Can I get you to eat some fruits while we're at it?"

"Don't push your luck," he grumbled, and that was the end of that.

Tomura silently listened to your happy chatter and the clanging of silverware on plates, wondering how the hell he found himself in domestic bliss. Sunlight streamed through the nearby window and illuminated your entire being, heightening your inner glow. You looked beautiful and peaceful. It calmed him far more than you could ever know.

Did he feel weak as he basked in your attention? Did he feel weak, knowing that you wanted him beside you even for the most mundane things?

The answer was undeniable.

He felt strong.

Different from the power trip he thrived on when he succeeded in yet another level.

Different from the sadistic glee he felt when the nomu followed his command.

Different from the sense of duty plaguing his mind when his teammates looked to him for direction.

This inner sense of peace steadied his mind and cleared his thoughts. How could it be weakness when he would tear the world apart for you?

The soft tap of your foot on his knee drew his attention to you. "This was nice," you softly said. "Next time I'll leave a trail of takoyaki outside your room so you can join me for lunch."

He huffed a dry laugh. "Make me botamochis and you got yourself a deal."

"You'll eat sweets made from red beans but not a single fruit ... " You innocently popped another strawberry into your mouth. "Not even these strawberries ... "

"Get over here and give me a taste then," he growled, settling back in his chair with a clear invitation of his own.

You accepted without delay.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki/reader #shigaraki tomura/reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #this is lame but it's something #tomura is like 'small talk is so stupid' and proceeds to do small talk because he's too emotionally constipated to be straightforward #you may ask how kurogiri knew tomura was at the bar #it's because AFO saw tomura moping for too long and called up his babysitter

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cant-think-of-anything · 3 years

Text

All my energy was used on the fic, you don't get a title

Basically I took the scenes of lord of shadows and replaced the characters

( @littlx-songbxrd helped me develop the plot a lot so thank you Zia)

TW: descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of homophobia and ableism

Thomas had quickly come to the conclusion that he hated the land of Fae. Not because the location itself harboured ill experiences, but rather because of his travel companions.

He glanced at said travel companions. Alastair and Christopher were attempting to assemble a fire, struggling greatly because London wasn't exactly a place of forests. Alastair's face was stern with concentration, eyebrows drawn together as they always were, a permanent appearance of disapproval. His lips were turned down slightly, frustration causing him to scrunch up his face.

It wasn't adorable, Thomas scolded himself, it was intolerable. And entirely unenjoyable. He breathed a sigh, turning away from them and back at the rushing waters of a river. They'd been sent to be audience to the Seelie court and request their assistance to defeat Belial. It was a useless excursion, the Faerie wouldn't intervene unless their own land was being threatened. But the Clave had sent them regardless.

Christopher called his name, his voice a whispered yell as to not draw attention from whatever lurked in the forests. He picked his way back, settling on his sleeping mat and looking up. Without a fire, only moonlight made anything visible. Christopher had curled up already, but Alastair was awake. He was staring up at the stars his eyes wide with something like wonder.

The sight was disarming, but Thomas turned away, before Alastair caught his stare. Nothing good could result from that. The Sanctuary was a few weeks past, and what had started as longing glances and tortured pining turned into short tempers and quick annoyance. They hadn't talked, not the way Thomas desperately wanted to, but they had argued and bickered nearly every time they crossed paths. And he despised it.

Curling his hand into a fist, he turned onto his side and willed himself to sleep.

____

Alastair was fairly certain they were lost. It was as if Faerie shifted everytime they were on the correct path, and it accomplished nothing but adding to his frustration. And apparently, Thomas's.

"We should go north." He said, his eyes glinting with annoyance.

"Are you stupid? Do you want us to get killed? We'll end up there either way."

"Your method would take longer and time is something I don't fancy to waste."

"And your brilliant solution is to- what? Traverse through an entirely unmapped territory? It's far too dangerous, and I would like to keep my head adjoined to my body."

"Maybe sometimes it would do you some good to do something dangerous."

"Oh?" Alastair whirled towards him, their faces inches away from the other, each sparked with anger. "Do something dangerous? Like you? To my memory, it got you imprisoned!"

"Perhaps it would suit you to travel in solitude! Since you always seem to prefer that anyway!"

"I do not-"

"I really do not think we should be causing this much of a disturbance," Christopher chimed in, his face twisted in confusion, head swiveling between both of them. "They're simply... directions?"

"Without directions." Alastair said, "you end up lost." His eyes stayed locked with Thomas's, head tilted to meet his infuriating height.

"We won't get lost," he hissed back.

"For someone with a tattoo of a compass you truly have a horrendous sense of direction-"

"We could just," Christopher started, flipping the map over, before looking up with wide eyes. "Go through here." He gestured at the map.

"Absolutely wonderful. Let's leave, I wish to depart as soon as we're able."

A few moments passed before a loud screech like noise emerged from the forests. Because why, Alastair thought drawing out his weapons, would anything ever be simple for him. Christopher and Thomas pressed closer when the creature burst forth from the trees. And really creature was the only world he had for it. It appeared as a demon but not one Alastair had ever studied, and from the looks on the others faces they hadn't either.

"Do we-"

The creature lunged faster than any demon could, a flash of the murky green that colored it's scales. It's claws flashed, charging at Thomas. Alastair briefly registered slipping in between the two, lodging the wooden shaft of his spear between it's jaw. He sought out Christopher sliding under the thing to stab it with his blade, killing it quickly but not quickly enough to prevent when the creatures claws raked against the top of his chest.

Air rushed out of his lungs and he felt familiar arms wrap around him, catching him before he could fall. His eyes fluttered shut on their own record. He fought to regain conciusness, he refused to be unconscious around the likes of his companions, but he felt himself dragged into blackness regardless.

---

Christopher was accustomed to his friends odd relations. He had certainly gained enough practice observing the spats they often had. But whatever anger his cousin held towards Alastair was always a puzzle to him. He was sure it was a puzzle to them too considering their never ending shifts in emotion.

He looked over at Thomas who's face was twisted in something between intense worry and sorrow. His eyes dropped to Alastair who had still not woken up, bandages covered the scratches that stretched from his shoulder to the top of his neck. He winced remembering the injury, bleeding profusely with no runes to stem it. His own worry for Alastair had occupied much of his mind. James and Matthew would be furious at such a thing but Christopher found he didn't care.

"I'll go stand watch," Christopher offered, making his way to the outside of the cave they'd taken shelter in.

Thomas hated being in debt, he remembered. When they were younger he would never accept help unless it was forced upon him, his stubborn nature preventing it. And now after Alastair had risked his life twice to help him, he must feel like he owed something.

Christopher pulled himself onto one of the rocks resting outside of the cave and tipped his head back. He missed his home. Not whatever had overtaken it in the months past, he missed Henry, he missed his parents who he'd barely conversed with since before the killings had happened. He missed Alexander even if the child cried a storm. He glanced up at the sky, noticing the first rays of dawn breaking through the clouds. He pulled himself off of his rock with a sigh. He wished for normalcy more than anything. But he doubted it would grace them anytime soon.

He ducked under the entrance of the cave, opening his mouth to call out for Thomas to get ready to depart. But Thomas wasn't awake.

He was curled onto his side, facing Alastair, both evidently asleep. Their hands stretched out the distance between them and were laced together.

Christopher sucked in a breath. "Oh, Thomas," he breathed.

He'd known of his cousin's vauge feelings for Alastair from the time that Thomas was quite a bit shorter than him. But he hadn't fully understood what the two felt towards each other. He knelt between them, gently attempting to pry their hands apart, but both their grips tightened. As if through the small action they were able to pour every unsaid emotion they'd held.

Christopher wasn't a stranger to the way the Clave treated anyone they viewed as different. The way they shut down every attempt Henry had made to better the Shadowhunter world, the way they would continue to deny any of his own attempts. They claimed to want happiness and order for all but the moment someone proved to differ from their standards they would shut them down and rid of the evidence. They would remain under the pretense of fairness while they claimed credit for any accomplishments him or his uncle managed to force into them.

Thomas never had chosen himself, never his own happiness. Christopher let go of their intertwined hands, then looking at Thomas's face. It was almost drawn up in concentration. He stood, glancing at them once more before returning to the front of the cave and yelling for Thomas to wake up so they could depart to the castle. It wasn't as much as he wanted to do, but it was all he could.

___

Thomas dumped their small pile of belongings near the foot of the bed. The Seelie Queen had apparently chosen graciousness that night and permitted them two rooms. Christopher claimed the first one, leaving Thomas and Alastair to occupy the other. Not that Alastair had woken yet.

Thomas crossed the room, refusing to look where Alastair was laying on the bed, where he would soon need to lay next to him. He made his way to Christopher's room, too tired to truly marvel at the tall marble pillars and regal decor adorning the halls and bedrooms. Christopher was cross-legged on the bed, scrawling something into a notebook under the dim lights that shone through the waterfall close to the wall.

He pulled himself onto the bed next to him, worrying at the material of his nightshirt. Christopher looked up after a moment, fixing his peculiar eyes on Thomas.

"Are you all right Tom?"

The question shouldn't have startled him as much as it did. "I'm okay."

Christopher lips tightened. "You're lying. You usually do when people ask you."

Thomas breathed a soft sigh, pulling his legs up onto the bed. "I know."

Christopher studied him for a few moments, debating something in his mind before saying "You don't have to sacrifice yourself to make us happy Thomas. Anyone who truly cares for you will not love you any less for your decisions."

Thomas startled, looking at him with widened eyes. Something in his heart sped up, as if a weight had lifted from it causing it to beat faster in it's absence. "I don't- I don't understand-"

A hand gripped his forearm. "Go back to your room Thomas. I suspect he'll wake soon."

___

When Alastair woke he wasn't in a forest. He had known the Faerie were images of royalty but the room seemed ridiculously extravagant. He wanted to pull himself up in the bed but a sharp sting on his neck forced him back down.

The door swung open then, Thomas entered with a odd look on his face. It switched to overwhelming relief when he saw Alastair.

Swallowing, Alastair rose a hand his neck. The Faeries must have worked on the wound, it had healed over somewhat but not enough to relieve him of the pain.

He heard Thomas clear his throat. When Alastair looked up again, he'd moved to the other side of his bed. "You had gotten injured in the forest. We're in the Seelie Courts now, you've been indisposed for a few hours."

"Oh." He wasn't sure what else to add.

Thomas stared at him for a few unnerving moments before making a frustrated noise. He slid onto the bed, folding his legs underneath him and giving Alastair an imploring sort of look. "I'm sorry. For everything I've done. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you the right words in the sanctuary. I'll try to give them now."

Alastair inhaled sharply, from surprise rather than pain. "I don't understand. You shouldn't be apologizing-"

Thomas half smiled before cutting him off. "Let someone apologize to you for once. You deserve as much after the way we've treated you."

Biting his lip and looking away, Alastair noticed the pile of clothes and other luggage in the corner of the room. Oh. He turned back.

"Well Mr. Lightwood I find your apology to be satisfactory, despite it still being unnecessary."

Thomas smiled fully then and something in Alastair's chest loosened.

"Does this mean I am permitted to use the bed alongside you?" His voice was teasing.

"As long as you manage to stay on your side of it."

But that rule was quickly broken, Thonas shifted close and carefully curled his body around Alastair, his head resting on in his curls and limb wrapped loosely around him. Alastair breathed a small breath of relief before pressing his face into Thomas's neck and sleeping peacefully for the first time in years.

Happy birthday Zia!! Ilysm and you deserve literally every good thing in the world, you're amazing and very talented and yeah <33

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno @thewarthatsavedmylife @eugeniaslongsword @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @alice-got-the-blues @writeforjordelia (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

I'll tag @youngreckless for thomastair week

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #tlh #thomastair #the last hours #tsc

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comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

Never Alone - The Marauders

Masterlist, Posting Schedule, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts, navigation

The Marauders x Fem Reader x Marlene McKinnon

A/N: As someone who was bullied in highschool for my sexuality and slandered by members of my family, this was somewhat therapeutic yet hard for me to write as I’ve never spoken about it. If you need a helpline, etc please scroll to the bottom of my navigation <3

Requested/About: The reader is dating Marlene McKinnon, once their relationship is made public, other students decide to be openly homophobic towards her. Her cousin, Sirius Black and his best friend James Potter find out, going after the students and comforting her.

Warnings: Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Mention of conversion, Swearing.

“Are you sure you want to, you know, go public?” Your girlfriend Marlene asked.

You felt your heart speed up, sweat already forming in your palms, you sighed.

“Yeah... just give me one more day” you swallowed hard and looked into her starry eyes “I’m tired of hiding who I am, I’m tired of hiding us - but I’m scared.”

Marlene smiled sympathetically from ear to ear, talking your hand in hers.

“It’s never going to be easy, Y/N, but we’ve got each other and that’s all that matters”

You nodded again and held onto her hand tighter, squeezing it as you often did when you were nervous.

Sharing a kiss, the two of you stood up and walked across the school grounds.

Before you could reach the doors to be engulfed by the delicious mouth watering meals, you heard foot steps behind you.

Two boys in the year above you in Raven Claw had closed in on you, they were glaring but the corners of their lips curled up slightly.

“I never would’ve thought Marlene was a dyke—“

“Leave her alone!” You hissed and the taller student, pushing yourself in front of your girlfriend to shield her.

The two boys shared a glance and started laughing.

“You’d think that being a witch you would fix yourself, make yourself normal.” The other boy spat at you.

Your throat went dry and started to feel tight, boiling blood flowed through your veins and you felt like you could throw up or faint, you wanted to scream, to say something back but you couldn’t.

Tears filled your eyes and your vision went glassy, every noise around you turned into muffled nonsense, you were trapped in a vice with your own thoughts and the disgusting comments from other people, torturing yourself and toying with your mind.

Why can’t I be normal?

Am I disgusting?

What are my family going to think?

Sirius won’t be able to look at me

Whilst drowning in your thoughts, Marlene pushed herself out of your shielding and stood up to the other students, arguing back, yelling and getting out her wand.

“You talk a lot boys, why don’t we settle this another way?”

But Marlene wasn’t as good as she thought, the two boys simply laughed at her, disarmed her and walked away, threatening to spill the truth to whole of Hogwarts.

“Y/N?” Your girlfriend called out softly “Y/N”

Blinking away the tears, you slipped out from your vice and felt as if you had been thrusted back into reality.

You looked up at Marlene and felt ashamed for not doing something.

“Marlene, I’m sorry, I love you.”

She shushed you softly “hey, it’s okay.” Her fingers traced your scalp, holding you in her arms “I love you too... let’s just get ourselves sorted out and head off for dinner.”

Wiping away your tears with your sleeve, the two of you walked into the great hall.

You cousin Sirius waved and ushered you to come over to sit with him and his friends.

James Potter and Lily were away with the fairies, giggling.

Remus Lupin looked a lot better than the previous week and the scratches on his face were starting to heal nicely.

You sat next in between your cousin and Girlfriend. Staring at your plate, too scared to say anything incase the boys had already blabbed to them.

“Well, aren’t you going to eat something?” Sirius asked, taking a sip from his goblet.

You nodded “right, yeah” and stabbed some turkey, piercing it with your fork and stuffing it into your mouth.

“You aren’t usually this quiet” James butted in as Lily left to go to the toilet.

Marlene gave James a sad look and started to eat, hoping the subject could be dropped.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Remus said softly “is everything okay?”

You could hear the intrusive thoughts and comments rise in your head again, the vice getting tighter.

You put your head in your hands and started to cry, you wanted to stand up and run but you were too afraid, you were terrified people would make a big deal and would end up finding out the truth.

“Nothing is okay” you wailed.

Sirius wrapped his arm around you and bent his head next to your ear.

“Can you just try your best to explain what’s happened?”

You shook your head even more and continued to cry, wanting to throw up the food you had worked so hard to chew down and swallow.

Marlene sighed and asked Sirius to come over, Sirius got out of his seat and crouched next to Marlene.

Marlene looked at you, the two of you making eye contact, emotions spinning in the air, your hearts running a marathon, this was it - you couldn’t hide anymore.

“Please can I tell him?” Your girlfriends eyes were pleading more than they ever had in their life.

You nodded and cried even more, holding onto her hand for support.

Marlene let out a shaky breath and looked into your cousins deep eyes “me and Y/N, we’ve been together for awhile now and it’s been kept secret but” she sighed again, her voice wobbling “two boys from Raven Claw spotted us and—“

“They think it’s okay to just toss out a homophobic slur like it means nothing, they think it’s a choice and that magic will make me normal” you wailed, too scared to look your cousin and his friends in the eyes.

James’s eyes widened and Lupin looked horrified, he stood up and walked over to your side of the table.

Sirius had never been so infuriated in his life, his veins were bulging out of his skull, his eyes burning with fury, his teeth gritted.

“Who” he growled.

Marlene looked across at the Raven Claw table and pointed at the two lads who were whispering to one another, grimacing and laughing.

Sirius stood up with his hands balled into fists “James—“

“You don’t need to tell me even once.” His best friend replied, pushing back his glasses.

Lupin pulled you into his arms, Marlene still holding your hand.

“I don’t want them to get in trouble—“

“They can’t get away with this, Y/N” Lupin replied softly “it’s bang out of order.”

Sirius stormed over to the Raven Claw table with James, both of them focussing on one lad each. In synch, they pulled the lads up by the back of their collars, dragging them out of their seats.

“Think you’d get away with it, did you?” Sirius seethed.

The lad stood up and stared Sirius down “want to take this outside?”

Sirius didn’t budge, James still holding back the other student.

“Don’t see why I would” Sirius spat “Homophobes don’t deserve to kept in the dark - protected. You disgusting scum bags shouldn’t be allowed here at Hogwarts!”

“And you expect your cousin to be accepted for who she is?”

The professors got up from their tables and hurried over to the unfolding scene, you could hear the rising in whispers and chatter from the other tables around you.

“It’s going to be okay” your girlfriend reassured you.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of” Lupin said softly “you’re perfect the way you are.”

Dumbledore glided over, staring at James and holding Sirius back from launching at the boy. He knew what James and Sirius were mischievous, yet good natured and kind hearted - he knew the was a reason behind this outburst of rage.

“Can the four of you make your way to my office”

James let go of the other student and followed behind Dumbledore.

“Only if you make that dyke normal—“

Sirius turned around and socked the student in the face, causing him to fall on the floor with a bloody nose.

You hid your face into the crook of Lupin’s neck, everyone now knowing your secret.

“Everyone get out!” Dumbledore yelled, everyone instantly leaving the hall in a hurry.

Dumbledore flashed Lupin a look and nodded.

The three of you were sat in the empty great hall for what felt like hours, your stomach doing flips and you couldn’t stop shaking, Lupin and your girlfriend constantly reassuring you and trying to cheer you up.

Sirius and James walked back into the hall, Sirius ran over to you and picked you up into his arms, the two of you crying.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You shook your head “no but I will be.”

“You don’t ever be ashamed of who you are” Sirius cried “it doesn’t make you any less of the person you are, we all still love you.”

“Are you okay, what happened, I—“

“Those two pricks have been expelled, they’re packing immediately” James smirked, rubbing your back.

You felt part of the weight on your chest had been lifted, James engulfed you into a hug while Sirius talked to your girlfriend, thanking her for being there for you and for treating you nothing short of perfect.

Dumbledore called out your name, asking to speak to you in his office.

James and Sirius smiled and nodded towards Dumbledore, you swallowed another forming lump down your throat and followed your head teacher.

Sitting down in his large and warm office, your eyes were glued to the gorgeous Phoenix sat in-front of you, batting its eyes at you.

“Sirius isn’t in trouble is he?”

“Not at all.” Dumbledore replied “Y/N, I want you to know, you will always be accepted here at Hogwarts and we won’t stand for Homophobia or discrimination of any sort.”

You let out a sigh of relief and nodded, thanking him, not knowing where to look you continued to stare at the Phoenix.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are but I can understand it takes time, it took me awhile too.” Dumbledore smiled softly.

You looked through his half moon spectacles and into his eyes.

He nodded his head, and held out his hand for you to hold.

“You are never alone, Y/N.” His eyes filled with tears, the two of you finally feeling free.

#marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #hp marauders #the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #fanfic #imagines #oneshot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #Sirius black x reader #Remus Lupin x reader #James Potter x reader

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sonoftatooine · 3 years

Text

Whumpay 2021

DAY 9: GENTLE/BRUTAL

It’s a couple of days late but I started writing it dammit so I’ll finish it ha

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala

Warnings: Implied/referenced abuse, torture, neglect, blood and injury

Summary: Anakin doesn’t become a Jedi after the Battle of Naboo, but is instead snatched up by Palpatine and raised secretly as a Sith. Years later, known to the Galaxy at large by a Sith assassin in service of the Separatists, Darth Vader makes the decision to rescue Republic Senator Padmé Amidala from execution by the CIS. Injured in the escape, he is left at the mercy of Senator Amidala to treat his wounds.

***

“Stay still.”

The weight of the small, slim hand on his chest was so gentle compared to the usual touches that he was used to enduring that Vader half thought he was hallucinating it through the pain of the blaster wound in his shoulder, but it stilled him just as surely as his master's biting grip promising violent punishment should he not comply. Eyes which he knew to be a soft brown, but which the red lenses of his mask painted a deep black, stared down at him, and the face of Senator Padmé Amidala swam before him, pale and wan and worried. Her Force presence, which had been full of equal parts determination, suspicion, and confusion in the mad dash from the cell which had meant as her coffin, had lit up with a heady mix of fright and concern when he had run his saber through the last of their pursuers only to stagger and collapse to the ground as the pain in his shoulder that he had barely felt in the heat of the fight finally caught up with him. He could feel that concern now, wearing down his tired shields, with all the force and all of the gentleness of a wave roaring up to shore in the wind only to break softly over rough sand like a gentle caress.

“Vader, can you hear me?,” Padmé asked. Her voice was tight and distressed, and he felt a sharp spike of fear from her like a shard of ice through his heart. “I need to know if you're awake. I— You're losing blood. You have to stay awake—”

“I am...” Vader gritted his teeth against the burning pain in his shoulder. “I'm awake.”

Her relief felt like a cooling balm in the Force. It was baffling and pleasant and terrifying all at once, and when he tried to untangle the mess of emotions from one another, he found that he had no idea where one began and the other started. Why should she be relieved that he was awake when him being unconscious would surely have provided the perfect excuse to escape both his company and the Separatist-held space she had found herself in? Why would she be concerned for him in the first place? And what's more, why should he find himself reaching out to the sensation, wanting more, when he knew it was the very antithesis of what he should desire as a Sith?

You know why, said the small, snide voice in his head that had come over the years to sound very like his master's. His master who had always said, between vicious bouts of Force lightning that left his skin painted with a map of thin, spiderweb scars, that his biggest weakness was his need for attachment. It was like a leech bleeding him, Sidious claimed, and that all he did to him was to stem the flow that was draining his hatred, his resolve, to make him strong. Well, if his attachments had been comparable to open wounds, he thought, he had just ripped out his stitches. Rescuing one of Tyranus' prisoners meant for execution, killing his men all because of little more than a week's worth of memories from a past life? Damaging himself fighting against his own side to save a sworn enemy of the Sith? His master would be so angry, and his punishment—

“Good. That's good.” He was brought abruptly out of his spiralling thoughts by the sound of ripping fabric, and with a wince and a bitten down groan, he shifted to see where the noise was coming from. To his astonishment, he saw that Padmé was ripping off sections of her soft white cloak with an expression of fierce determination on her beautiful face.

“Wha—?,” he rasped, then tried again. “What...are you doing?”

Padmé didn't even pause from her task. Bundling up one of the strips into a ball, she leaned down and pressed it firmly against the entrance to his wound. He hissed at the contact, the sound too quiet to be picked up by his mask's vocoder.

“You're bleeding a lot,” she said by way of explanation. Even though her worry sung as loud and clear in the Force as ever, her voice was now as full of determination as the expression on her face. It reminded him of all those years ago when she returned to Naboo—full of her plan of action, ready to carry it out and damn anything or anyone that tried to stop her. “We need to keep pressure on the wound.”

I know that, Vader wanted to say. Of course he knew that. It was hardly the first time he had been hit by a blaster bolt. Nor was it as if he had never had to treat his own injuries. In fact, as long as it was not too far beyond his abilities to fix, his master demanded it—getting injured was a result of his own weakness, and it was only fair that he was forced to deal with the consequences of his own mistakes. What he did not understand about this, however, was why she was bothering to help him. You didn't show your enemies mercy, and you certainly didn't show them care. Her concern and relief had been strange enough without adding this to the mix, and really, he was starting to feel far too dizzy and faint to try and figure out the reasons behind it on his own. But he did not say any of this to her. Instead, what he said was:—

“You're ruining your cloak.”

Not for the first time, he was glad of his vocoder, for it transformed the pathetic almost-whimper the words came out as into the deep, unwavering tones that his enemies knew him by. Yet it didn't seem to make much difference to Padmé's reaction, as he felt a stab of shock in the Force, her lips parting in a soft 'o' and her brows turning upwards in a frown, before his senses were overwhelmed with a heavy, concerned sadness.

“You're hurt,” she said quietly, slowly, as if she were trying to soothe a wounded animal. “That's far more important than keeping my cloak intact.”

Oh. He didn't— He couldn't—

“Do you need that mask to breathe?” Padmé asked all of a sudden.

“I—what?” His brain, muddled and too full of fog to register what she was asking him, stalled.

“Vader,” Padmé repeated gently. “Do you need the mask to breathe?”

“No, it's— No.” The mask was to hide his identity, Sidious had claimed when he had first gifted it to him. He didn't see much point to it, personally, other than perhaps to hide his youth and to give him a more intimidating voice—at this point, not even his old friends on Tatooine would have been likely to recognise his face—but his master was always very insistent upon it, that he never remove it in front of enemies. But why would Padmé want to know? He didn't understand—

“Can you keep this—,” she nodded towards the cloth, stained dark with his blood, that she was holding against his wound, “—pressed against your shoulder while I take your mask off?”

His mind, still too sluggish and slow for his liking, had taken in the first part of her request long before he could take in the second, and by the time he had registered what she intended to do, he had already taken the rag from her hand and was pressing it down against his wound.

“No!,” he exclaimed, somewhat belated, as a sudden sharp panic stabbed through him. “You can't! You can't—”

Padmé frowned.

“Why?” she asked.

He should lie, he knew. He should make up some reason or other, but he couldn't—

“My master,” he said. “He's forbidden me— He will be angry if he finds out—”

Padmé's frown deepened at the mention of his master. The Force was once again flooded with that overwhelming sense of sadness.

“I don't think your master will be pleased with you saving my life either,” she pointed out, not unkindly. “Vader, please. You're losing blood and I can't tell how bad it is if I can't even see you underneath all of— I need to get that mask off you.”

As much as he wanted to, Vader couldn't argue with her logic on either count. He had already made his master incandescently angry by saving Padmé from the execution the Sith had had planned for her—after that, nothing would cool his ire, and keeping his face hidden would have seemed like a poor appeasement in comparison to his crime. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

He felt Padmé's relief in the Force for the second time that day, soft and bright as it was before. It was met with his own apprehension as she reached down, a frown of concentration upon her brow, trying to figure out how to release the helmet's mechanisms. All of a sudden, he was unsettled, not just on account of his master's orders, but by the realisation that Padmé would see his true face. The face that he had kept hidden from all except his master and Tyranus ever since he had been snatched from Naboo as a child. He felt very like that child now, trapped, helpless, caught in the horrible awareness of his own vulnerability—the same vulnerability that he had fought so hard to burn out of himself long ago. He— The mechanisms of the mask clicked and whirred, and the comforting, stifling black plastisteel was pulled away from his face and set on the ground beside him.

“Oh.” Though he could hear Padmé's voice, he could not quite make out her expression—he was still adjusting to the burst of light and colour his eyes had been assaulted with after the dull red of the mask's lenses. “Oh Force, you look pale. Are you usually that pale?”

Vader blinked. The brightness had faded to a more manageable level, and he could now see her face—the first time he had seen it in full colour since the Battle of Naboo, rather than in varying shades of red. She was as beautiful as he remembered, even drawn, white-faced, with dark, tired circles under her eyes, and her expression half one of open-mouthed shock, half one of fierce concern. He blinked again, trying to take in her words.

“I'm usually pale” he said, his words coming out as a soft croak. Years of isolation and darkness in the Works of Coruscant and the deep chambers of Sith temples had rid him of the golden tan his home planet had given him, turning his complexion a pallid white, save for the dark shadows painted beneath his eyes by just as long of fear and stress and lack of sleep. Combined with the limp tangle of curls atop his head and the yellow of his eyes, he was sure he must look quite the wretched sickly creature to her eyes. A far cry from the fearsome image his master had intended him to strike with his enemies.

“Right.” Padmé let out a breath, rubbing the back of her hand against her forehead. Then, before he had time to register what she was doing, she had brushed a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes and pressed the flat of her palm to his own brow. He jerked back in surprise—or at least he tried to. With his head already lying on the ground, it came out as nothing more than an odd little twitch. “You feel a bit cold. Really, I'm not qualified to deal with this kind of injury—especially not without bacta. We need to get you to a proper medic. Fast.”

“My ship,” Vader hissed out. “There's a med-droid and supplies on the ship.”

The ship that he had intended for them to escape in throughout their pursuit from Padmé's cell. It was not so far as to be a problem for two healthy, uninjured people to reach, but with him wounded and losing blood... Above him, Padmé seemed to have seen a hint of his thoughts upon his face, for she frowned.

“Do you think you can reach it?”

“Yes.” No. Perhaps. No, he could do it. He had done it before, pushed through far worse agonies and triumphed against the limitations of his body. He was a Sith—pain only served to fuel his power, give him focus.

Blood loss, however, a snide little voice in the back of his mind that he steadfastly ignored said amid a new wave of dizziness, is rather harder to turn into something useful.

“I'll...have to bind the wound” he said.

“Alright.” Once again, the presence of a solid plan seemed to fuel Padmé's determination as much as pain did his strength, burying her worries beneath a thick wall of resolve. She stripped off another length of fabric from her cloak, and he reached out his trembling flesh hand to take it. She shook her head.

“It will be easier if I do it.” He could still sense an undercurrent of fear beneath her determination. Fear that she would do something wrong, that she wouldn't be able to get him to a medic on time. Despite herself, it scared her in a way that he could not understand, no matter how he tried. “If you can just—”

“I can do it” Vader interrupted as she gestured for him to pull his hand still pressing the cloth to the wound away, so that she might access it. Despite his confusion at her concern, despite the knowledge that she was his enemy, that she didn't know to look upon him as anything but an enemy, he didn't think Padmé would hurt him. She had no active malice in her—not like his master, and the med-droids that followed his orders when he was dealt any serious damages that required attention beyond his own. But the instinct to recoil, to not let anyone near when he was so vulnerable was too strong. He pressed the cloth clutched in his mechno hand tighter to his shoulder, shying away from the reach of her fingers. Padmé frowned.

“Let me, please,” she murmured. “I can't help you if you don't let me.”

He didn't want to let her. He didn't want to let her—let anyone—near. Her worry felt sharp and jagged, like broken shards of transparisteel, and despite himself, he wanted to soothe it. She wouldn't hurt him. She was an enemy. She wouldn't. He sensed no cruelty from her, no desire to cause pain. She wouldn't— Slowly, reluctantly, he drew his hand back, and let her approach.

Padmé's fingers were soft and gentle as she pulled back the tattered fabric of his robe to get to the injury beneath, but he froze dead still at the touch nonetheless. Her concern spiked higher in the Force at the sight, but she didn't waste time in getting to work. The pressure from his hand against the wound was soon replaced by that of the rag tied tight about his shoulder. He couldn't quite hold back a quiet sound of discomfort as she accidentally jostled him tying the knot, and her Force presence gave an odd little flinch in apology.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Sorry.”

Vader blinked, confused.

“It's fine,” he said. Really, what was she apologising for? He couldn't remember having been treated so carefully since the days when his mother had treated his scrapes and bruises after he crashed his podracer, or after the worse of Watto's beatings. But no, he didn't want to think about his mother. He had shown enough weakness in front of his enemy for one day. “We should get to the ship.”

He tried to sit up—they had to get to the ship fast, before any reinforcements came looking for them—but his body seemed to have other ideas. His shoulder screamed in protest, but he barely noticed it through the fierce wave of dizziness that had suddenly overcome him. It was worse than the previous ones—nauseating, causing his vision to swim so violently that the world turned into a blur before him. When his vision finally sharpened again, he was lying on his back, and Padmé was bending over him, white-faced, one hand gripping his prosthetic tight where it lay against his stomach.

“I don't think we're going to get you to the ship,” she said shakily. “Perhaps I could bring it here. If I can get to it—I'll be faster—then I can fly it here and the med-droid can see you—”

“Why?”

It was the question Vader had been burning to ask ever since the injury had overwhelmed him. Why was she doing this? Why did she not take the opportunity to save herself when he would only slow her down? When he was her enemy, as far as she new, a Separatist assassin, a Sith, a danger to everything she had ever worked for and believed him? Padmé, however, didn't seem to understand him, for she frowned down at him in confusion.

“Why?” she echoed.

“Why...are you helping me?,” he insisted. “You...you could escape back to the Republic much easier if you left me.”

Padmé drew back sharply, though she did not let go of his hand.

“I'm not about to leave you here bleeding out on the ground when I can do something about it!” she exclaimed, indignant.

Vader frowned.

“I'm your enemy.”

“My enemy who just saved me from being killed,” Padmé retorted. “You got shot protecting me. That's more than just helping someone treat their wounds. You could have been killed! If anything, it should be me asking you why you chose to help me.”

Vader was silent. For what could he say? What could he tell her? That no matter how much his master tried, he had not been able to fully crush the affection that she had sparked in him when she had stepped into Watto's shop all those years ago and showed kindness to a little slave boy who had thought she was an angel? That despite her opposition to all his master and the Sith intended to achieve, the thought of her death rended his heart in two? He could barely even believe he was that boy most days; how could she possibly believe it? How could he reveal to her the monster that boy that had once risked his life to help her had become? Even if he had wanted to, he would not have been able to find the words. So he said nothing, focusing on the pain and the heady faintness so that he wouldn't have to think of her disappointment reverberating in the Force.

“Alright,” she sighed. “If you don't want to tell me, that's your choice. But whatever your reasons, you still saved my life. I'm not about to repay you by abandoning you. We're both getting away from here. Together.”

She spoke so fiercely that despite the pain from his wound, despite the blackness that threatened to encroach upon his vision every time he shifted, he could almost believe her. It was foolish, the kind of naïve idea he had once believed with all his heart, and a habit that his master had taken great pains to break him of. And yet— And yet, he wanted... He wanted— Padmé squeezed his hand tight. Though small, her grip was strong and steady, and her eyes shone with a fierce light.

“You saved me. Now I'm going to save you. No matter what.”

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ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

Base Villains

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic, approx. 1800 words. This scene occurs in Ch. 13 of the romantic route. Spoilers!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Following Orders

It was a few hours before dawn when Mitsuhide, Motonari, and Kennyo finally approached the daimyo’s fortress. Mouri and his pirates led the attack. A sensible choice, given the cannon and the fact that no sane person would want any of them behind him. The only sound on that narrow road was the low groan of wooden wheels and the steady beat of marching men.

Mitsuhide was lost in thought, his mind spinning the thousand paths this battle could take. Which led him to rescue his love, and which ended in death, separated by only the slightest action. The most banal of random events. Yet he was the kitsune warlord and he had to know - to plan - and to win.

His thoughts were interrupted by an explosion up ahead. The thundering roar of a ship’s cannon, unleashed at the daimyo’s gate. The reinforced wood didn’t stand a chance. The air around it filled with dust, smoke, and splinters.

Kennyo’s eyes went wide as he surveyed the damage. Mitsuhide didn’t like the shrewd look in his eyes. But whatever Kennyo thought, he kept it to himself. His Ikko Ikki began moving in to fight the daimyo’s forces as they rallied to defend the opening.

Motonari was already moving to the thick of things, plowing through the smoke with his sword drawn. His mad laughter was drowned out by the sound of shouting and the screams of dying men.

“Mouri is a natural at this.” Mitsuhide tracked the opening attack with cautious optimism.

“And you aren’t comfortable with this destruction?” Kennyo’s lips twitched into a brief, mocking smile.

“I never said that.” Mitsuhide drew his sword. “In my blood, in my bones - I want to be here. More than anyone else.” It was a true statement, one that encompassed his nature and his heart’s desire. The battle excited his blood - the contest of man against man, the challenge to survive no matter what stood against you. But beneath that was something even stronger pulling him forward.

A ferocious love for his little one - a need to protect her above all others. The intensity of these feelings surprised him even now. He knew without doubt that he would kill every person inside these walls if it meant she lived. And that he would not stop there, were she still in danger.

Kennyo studied his face for a moment and then shook his head. “You are a frightening man.”

“This from a man that says he willing took up the mantle of demon?” Mitsuhide smiled. “We are all devils here.”

After a beat of silence, the abbot nodded. There wasn’t anything more to say. The two men charged forward into battle.

***

Kyubei was having a very hard time. He’d disguised himself as a servant after stashing the chatelaine earlier. It wasn’t a very good disguise, just a hat and some worn clothing. His sword was replaced with a hidden dagger and a wooden baton. He hadn’t slept - just worked his way through the keep trying to find a way to smuggle the girl out before Ashikaga called for her again.

There were several routes out of the fortress, but all of them were guarded. He could probably get out easily enough - just claim to be another of the messengers sent to gather reinforcements. But the chatelaine . . . with a shaved head, her chest tied down, and some baggy clothes she might pass for a boy. He just needed to find some shears and-

“Put me down!”

He turned to see the shogun’s ‘messenger’ carrying the chatelain like a sack of rice. She was flailing, but he didn’t seem to notice her small fists or kicking feet. Kyubei felt his heart freeze in his chest. This was bad. He had to do something quickly. He drew the small wooden baton and crept forward.

The ‘messenger’ turned and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, she is making so much noise. I thought . . . “ he gestured with the baton as if he meant to hit her.

“Unnecessary. She needs to be awake. To feel every moment of this.” He ran his hand over her rear and squeezed.

The chatelaine shrieked and hit him again, her anger and fear wordless.

Kyubei wasn’t sure how to proceed, but he needed to do something. “I - I can tie her? For you?”

The fortress shuddered from some kind of attack. It sounded like a cannon. Both men turned toward the sound for a brief moment, then the messenger hurried on. Kyubei followed. Whatever his lord’s plan of attack, it had begun. The time to escape was past, and now all he could do was try to protect the chatelaine until Mitsuhide arrived.

Kyubei leapt forward, swinging with all his might at the back of the man’s head.

The messenger sensed the attack and shifted, raising his captive up to catch the blow.

For a moment, Kyubei feared the chatelaine would take the force of it, but he managed to change course mid-swing, his baton whistling through the empty air.

She shrieked and squirmed, trying to get loose. This time, it worked.

The messenger knew he couldn’t fight and hold onto her at the same time. He tossed her aside and drew a dagger. “I don’t know who you are or what you think you are doing, but today you will die.”

“I think not.” Kyubei went on the attack. He had to take the man down fast, before anyone else entered the hall. The wood sang through the air, then collided with one of the daggers. This was only a distraction, the real blow was aimed at the messenger’s knee. Kyubei’s foot connected solidly.

With a grunt of effort, the messenger stayed on his feet. He stabbed toward Kyubei, his intent clear. He wanted to end this fight quickly too. But he lacked the dancer’s grace of his opponent. Despite his rapid thrusts, he could not catch his blade in Kyubei’s flesh.

The chatelaine slowly gathered herself to her feet. Wide eyes tracked the near-silent fight.

Kyubei couldn’t afford to worry about what she would or wouldn’t do while he was occupied. He just hoped she wouldn’t run. That would summon more guards, a complication he couldn’t afford.

The messenger slashed at Kyubei’s throat. He missed, slicing the fabric on Kyubei’s shoulder. A thin welt of blood stained the cloth.

Kyubei struck the man’s hand and heard the satisfying crunch of breaking bones. The knife fell to the floor. This didn’t slow the messenger. Just forced him to attack with the remaining blade. It was all Kyubei could do to hold him off. Pain seemed to enrage the man, making him faster and more savage.

“You will pay for that. A week of torture for every finger,” the man snarled. “You will beg me to die!”

“I never beg.” Kyubei gave the messenger a toothy grin. Despite his brave words, he was beginning to worry. This was dragging on too long. Every second they fought brought him closer to being caught. And to make matters worse, he could see the chatelaine moving. If she ran, he would have to run too.

The messenger rushed Kyubei, using his whole body as a weapon. He slammed him into the wall.

The world narrowed to two points for Kyubei. His left hand, as he fought on that side to keep the dagger from his flesh - and his chest, where the messenger kept pushing forward, crushing him slowly.

Then, with a suddenness that bordered on the miraculous, the pressure eased. The messenger stumbled to his right, dropping his knife. He turned, and Kyubei saw the gaping wound on his back.

Behind the messenger stood the chatelaine. She was gripping the knife with white-knuckled intensity. Blood dripped down the blade and stained her fingers.

Kyubei didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the chatelaine and ran.

She went along with him until they’d left that hallway far behind. After several turns and two staircases up, she pulled away from him. “Y-you get away from me!”

“My lady . . . it’s me.” Kyubei framed his face with his hands, covering the bald spot on top and the beard at the bottom. “I am Kyubei.”

The chatelaine’s eyes narrowed, studying his features. Then she dropped the knife and flung herself at him. “It is you! Did Mitsuhide send you? Where is he?” The questions came between breathy gasps as she gave in to her panic.

Kyubei carefully stroked her back, waiting for her to calm herself. “I will answer all your questions soon. Right now, we must find a way out.”

She nodded, dabbing at her bruised and swollen cheeks to wipe away her tears. “I . . . ok. Where do we go?”

He didn’t know which route to take, but there was a secret exit from the shogun’s rooms. A narrow, hidden passage in the wall that led to the servant quarters. With the fortress under attack, that seemed like the best option. Kyubei grabbed her hand and led her on - up toward the tenshu.

They passed several guard stations, but the tense men only waved them on. A servant and a beaten girl were no threat. They were waiting for the marauders - the enemy. And if the sounds of fighting were any indication, they didn’t have long to wait.

Kyubei and the chatelaine were allowed into the shogun’s tenshu. It was lined with the daimyo’s guards. Ashikaga paced the room.

“How dare they! I am the shogun! They should grovel before me. Beg!” He glanced up as Kyubei entered the room.

Kyubei tried to scuttle to the side with her, bowing low as he sidestepped. They only needed to get close enough to the hidden door to get out. Ashikaga should be too preoccupied with the battle to focus on them - at least, that was his hope. But all those plans went up in smoke as the shogun lunged toward them and grabbed the chatelaine’s arm.

“You! Girl! You are my secret weapon.” Ashikaga jerked her to his side. “The kitsune would never risk you. He is weak. Yes . . .” He studied her bruised face.

“Mitsuhide is ten times the man you will ever be. And he would risk anything for his ideals.” She straightened her back and glared up at him.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak!” Ashikaga lifted a hand to strike her.

That was when the door exploded inward. It made a sound like cannon shot as the wood gave way. In the opening stood two men.

Motonari’s face was lit with a feral snarl. His eyes glowed like coals and his sword dripped redly.

Mitsuhide was equally frightening. His clothes were spattered with ruby droplets, his lips curved in a cruel smile. When his gaze found the chatelaine’s face, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

Kyubei swallowed. This was going to be messy.

Next: Trust

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #kyubei #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Text

Home: Chapter eight

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing

word count: 1.6k

a/n: ahhh this is the last part and I’m kinda sad but at the same time I don’t want to drag it out, I also have a new idea for a dorian x reader so it’s a good thing to finsih one but am still sad. I hope you enjoy I made it extra fluffy (also had a cheeky wee hint back to the first part)

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

You were sat in front of a large mirror, taking in your appearance as you listened to the noise downstairs, the hustle and sounds of people speaking as they rushed about in preparation a sharp contrast to the silence of your and Azriel’s shared room. The girl looking back at you in the mirror was beautiful. Her hair was pinned up, revealing a long neck adorned with a simple necklace your lover had gifted you. Your skin was clear as well, any blemishes you had, any scarring from acne you had picked at, was gone, replaced by dewy, glowing skin. In fact everything about you seemed to glow, your hair was shinier, your skin had a new ethereal sense about it, and you looked more like your mother than you ever had before.

You heard a clatter of plates downstairs and bit your lip with a slight smile, running your hands over you dress. It was baby pink, as you had commented that white may be a little on the nose, with a deep V-neck and white and pink flowers trailing down the heavy skirt, you had picked it out with the help of Feyre and Mor who had dragged you out shopping, giggling when you had stared in shock at the sheer number of dresses you only believed existed on Pinterest. You reached over the vanity and picked up the delicate gold dangling earrings that you had ‘bought’ (Azriel had technically bought them but you certainly paid him back) and put them on, gazing wistfully at your now pointed ears.

So much had changed so quickly. Azriel’s family were extremely welcoming, instantly treating you like they had known you forever. You became incredibly close with Cassian and Nesta, much to Azriel’s amusement, as you bonded over books with Nesta and a general love of Azriel with Cassian. Nesta was officially sold on you when she finished ‘Call Me by Your Name’ the day you gave it to her, the two of you discussing it all night as you made promises to find a way to show her the movie. Rhysand and Mor treated you like a sister, the three of you soon teasing each other, Amren genuinely laughing when you let loose your more creative insults. The only one who seemed reserved at first was Elain, but soon the two of you were spending hours in the garden as you taught her about the different needs that different plants had and how to grow them most effectively.

Azriel had never been more in love. He already knew you were mates but now that it was official, and possible, he felt like he was on cloud nine. He was in love with how quickly you feel asleep in his arms. The way you lit up when talking about your passions, hands moving widely. He was in love with the way your eyes sparkled constantly now, only rarely being overcome with shadows, ones that he had learned to help dispel, you were laughing more and had even started showing your back again. When you went to the House of Wind to train with Cassian and Azriel one summer afternoon you had removed your top, leaving you in a simple sports bra, not missing the mix of pride and desire in Azriel’s eyes as you continued your exercises.

“Can I ask what happened?” Nesta had asked late that day, Feyre looking up from her book, Nyx cradled in one arm. You had explained, and after, when you expected to be pushed away, Feyre had simply passed Nyx to Nesta and wrapped her arms around you, holding you for a long while, even when the Illyrians entered the room. When she pulled away you noticed the tears in her eyes and offered her a small smile, as she whispered to you.

“You’re with your family now, nothing like that will ever happen again.” And then you were crying too.

Now you were sat in your low-back dress with your hair up, scars on display for anyone to see. You had been woken at nine am by an excited chorus of fae women and all but shoved into a bath, your hair washed, and skin scrubbed until you felt new-born. You had been brought a strong, dark coffee and some honeyed toast as you sat soaking in the bath, your friends moving about outside tidying your room and fishing out everything you needed, before you were pulled from the bath and forced to dry. When you had walked back into the room, you found Mor wiggling her eyebrows as she passed you a bag which, on further inspection, you found contained an intricate set of baby blue lingerie making you laugh loudly as you thumbed the material. They had then crowded you, Nesta drying and styling your hair as Feyre did your face, treating it alike one of her beautiful paintings, Elain painting and filing your nails as Amren and Mor sat sipping on champagne, both donned in beautiful, dark silk dresses, as they discussed the day ahead. You felt alike a princess when they were done and had commented as much, gaining you a glass of champagne and a comment on how you looked like one too. However they soon left, claiming there was much to sort out downstairs and that they had no faith in the boys to get it sorted.

Now you were sat alone, your gaze had moved to outside your window where light snow had started falling. You stood and moved the open window, perching on the ledge, smiling when a robin landed next to you, flying to rest in your palm, it’s ruby coloured breast not making you flinch. You still had nightmares as you were still part god and probably always would have the dreams you had grown used to; however you were making progress.

“If you’re planning on running away that ledge is too high,” You smiled as you heard his voice, turning to see your beautiful mate smiling at you.

“Maybe Cassian can come and fly me out,” you challenged,

“Ha, ha.” He deadpanned and you giggled, standing to wrap yourself in his arms,

“In my world it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the service,” you whispered into his chest,

“This technically isn’t a wedding,”

“That’s a fair point,” you muttered, and he smiled down at you,

“It would be a shame to deprive me of this sight, you look beautiful princess,” he spun you out of his arms and you giggled, making his heart swell with love.

“It would, wouldn’t it?”

“C’mon, we should go soon, Cassian’s already crying,” you laughed and grabbed his hand as he pulled you along and down the stairs. You gasped when you reached the bottom, there were flowers everywhere, the whole room transformed into a fairy wonderland that made you feel giddy. You smiled when you saw that Cassian was in fact, already tearing up as he stood to greet you, complementing you and thanking you for making his brother so happy, you had laughed and shoved him away in your emotional state, not wanting to cry so early, as you moved to the sink in the room that was spraying a fine mist of water, creating a rainbow.

“Oh Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show me Nico Di Angelo, Camp half blood.” You threw in a golden drachma, the image wavered before revealing your friends and family on the other side, waving, and sending greetings. The inner circle came over and you all conversed for a while before Azriel was rather impatiently tugging on your hand and you moved onto the ceremony, with just your found families present. Having been raised mortal you insisted on exchanging rings, and Azriel was completely happy to oblige, obsessed with the feeling of pushing the ring onto your finger and kissing you, having someone that was wholly his, and who he was completely devoted to.

The rest of the day was spent curled under Azriel’s arm, sipping cocktails, and laughing as you were told all the most embarrassing things the inner circle could dig up. You ate delicious food and laughed with your friends, you heart aching at how naturally this happiness came to you now as you gazed at the man you loved.

You stood outside, breathing in the fresh air, and enjoying the slight chill that came through the thin shawl you had wrapped around you shoulders. Soon you felt a familiar hand press into your hip, pulling you into his side tightly. You looked up at him, still in wonder of how you landed such a beautiful man.

He caught your gaze, brushing a snowflake of your cheek and grabbing your hand, pressing a light kiss into the palm. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, gaze so full of love that tears welled up in your eyes.

“I’m just so glad you got stabbed,” you muttered, and he laughed before you continued, “I’m serious, I don’t know where I’d be if we hadn’t met, but you are everything to me and I’m so glad we pushed through, I’m so glad we fought to be together.”

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair as he pulled you in tightly, his scarred hands moving over your scarred back as you sighed, content.

“I love you.” You replied, pulling away and watching as a red admiral butterfly landed on a nearby poppy.

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #heroes of olympus #acosf #acofs #rhysand

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raith-way · 3 years

Text

Fandom: DCEU / Suicide Squad

Fic: Memento Vivere

Pairing: Revina Revnic/Rick Flag

Kiss Prompt 10: …desperately

Requested By: @asirensrage

Tagging: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

The Mission Comes First

Rev had learned, what felt like a lifetime ago now, to fear the words routine mission. Any time a mission became routine, she knew to keep on guard because some kind of shit was going to hit life’s proverbial fan. Despite knowing that, she had let herself relax. Because the mission had been a simple one. Her and Harley had been the only ones deployed, into a dark nightclub filled with music that she could feel vibrating in her soul and bodies sliding against each other with wild abandon. It made her crave the quiet, but she got a kick out of watching Harley mingle and enjoy time outside of her cage. As far as the mission went, they were just doing a little recon. (Rev’s first specialty.) Watch, listen, learn, report. It was the kind of mission that she could do with her mind completely disconnected. Instincts picking up the important bits while her thoughts strayed.

Harley danced, Rev observed, and Rick talked into her ear the whole time. Strict orders that kept her eyes sharp and whispered words that made her thighs tense. For a little while, it was the best mission ever. Harley was distracting the crowd with what looked like an impromptu dance battle, giving Rev a clear view of their target and his dealings, and Rick was dripping filth over their private comm about all the things they were going to do as soon as this mission was over. Her body had started to move along with the masses as she imagined a completely different body pressed against hers, and that was when it happened. When the routine mission flipped, ass-up, and she had frozen inside the club as she heard strange voices over the comm.

Focusing on the mission had been torture after that, because the comm had gone silent. The private channel and the public one. She gave Rick five minutes, she trusted him enough to take care of himself, but she could only control herself for five minutes. Once time was up, she started jumping with the crowd just a little out of beat. She caught Harley’s eyes, and she knew the woman could understand her because she clapped her hands in the air and pulled attention to herself. Rev used the window of opportunity to slip out of the club unnoticed, and she could hear the heavy door clang behind her as she strained to see around her. Rick’s command center for the night was nearby, and that was where she went. Started at a leisurely walk and then slowly built into a jog, until she was nearly running. The nightclub had been in one warehouse, and Rick was set up at a different warehouse far enough away to not be noticeable. Too fucking far away, in her opinion.

The first body was a bit of a shock. Neck twisted at an odd angle, sprawled across the ground, but she didn’t slow her run and just jumped over the body instead of stopping to inspect. The second body was less of a shock, face and chest shining wet and red in the darkness, and she jumped over the body and upped her speed. By the time she reached the warehouse she was looking for, she had vaulted over two other very obviously dead bodies and was breathing heavy from the panic rather than the fast pace. The next shock came from the bright light inside the warehouse, and she skidded to a stop in front of the rolled-up door. Just outside of the falling light. The thick leather heels of her boots caused some noise, enough to get some attention, and Rick’s eyes snapped up to hers.

“The fuck’re you doin’ here, Revnic?” Using her surname wasn’t a good sign, but she didn’t care about which of her names that he was using because she could clearly see blood. He was sitting behind a table, just a plain white fold-up table, and leaned back in his chair. The coat he was wearing to ward off the chill was gaping open, showing the dark shirt underneath, and she could clearly see rips in the material. Rips from blades. On the floor under him, she could see grouped drops of blood. (Not puddles of blood. He wasn’t bleeding that much.)

“Strange voices, dark comm, what the fuck?” No one had ever accused her of not getting to the point, and she completely ignored Rick’s I’m-the-team-leader-show-some-respect glare.

“I was doing a perimeter check, and I got stabbed,” he answered as he sat up straighter. He visibly winced as he slumped forwards in his chair, like she wouldn’t worry if he hid the damage behind the table, and she reached up to pull at her hair. Her stupidly dyed hair that had been dyed for this stupid mission, where Rick had been stabbed while not even being involved in the mission part of the mission.

“What? Why’d you get stabbed?” she rushed out. If they’d been found out, someone would have come after her or Harley. Why go after Rick? Better yet, how’d they get the jump on Rick?

“Not like I stopped to interrogate them. I was a little busy with being stabbed,” he mumbled and rubbed absently at his jaw. Had one of them clocked him? He quit rubbing at his face and pressed his fingers against his temple as he looked right at her. “I got a little distracted.”

“Are you telling me that you can’t handle phone sex and not getting stabbed at the same time?” She finally marched forward, out of the darkness and into the harsh light of the warehouse Rick had claimed, and she bit down on her grin as Rick instinctively sat up straight in his chair.

“It wasn’t phone sex,” he complained. As soon as she was close enough, she grabbed at his shoulder and pushed him back in the chair.

“Comm sex sounds stupid.” She was talking while pulling up the dark tee that he was wearing, and she swiped her hand across the blood that had streaked down his torso. She heard him hiss through his teeth, but she could see now that the wounds themselves weren’t so bad. Two lucky strikes, enough to break the skin and make a mess, but he probably wouldn’t even need stitches. Just a big band-aid slapped on for a day or two.

“Mission ain’t over, Revnic,” he told her as she swung her leg over his lap. Her shirt was dark enough that it wouldn’t show bloodstains, and it wasn’t like she’d care if she did walk back into the club with blood all over her shirt.

“Just checking on my team leader.” She kept one hand pressed against his stomach, high up on the left with already drying blood sticking to her skin, as she leaned forward and knocked her chin against his. “Next time you need to take a break to kill some interlopers, you keep me on.”

“That get you off, Rev?” The words were said against her lips, warm breath against her skin and the taste of the mints that he favored slipping down her tongue, and her free hand locked around his neck with enough force to leave bruises in the shapes of her fingertips along his hairline.

“Knowing you’re alive gets me off.” She whispered the words into him, so that he could taste the truth of what she’d said, and she thought of his voice cutting off. Of not being able to hear him. Of not knowing if he was alive or not.

Before she could have another thought, of Rick dying or him killing four men while she danced with strangers, they crashed together. She bit at his lips until he cursed against her teeth and gripped her hips hard enough to ache, and she lost herself in him. They pushed and pulled at each other, desperate to leave marks that belonged to them, and she ducked down to feel the thundering pulse in his throat pushing against her tongue. Sealed her lips around the thin skin and sucked, nipped with her teeth and pulled, to leave a mark over the place that proved he was alive. She could feel fresh blood against her hands as her fingers curled against his skin, like she could pull him apart and bury herself inside his chest cavity right next to his beating heart, and she could feel her hair being pulled as she was ripped away from his skin so that his lips could devour hers. Her mouth felt hot and sensitive, bruises were blooming across her hips and thighs, and it wasn’t enough.

When Rick pulled away, she actually whined. A high-pitched sound slipped from her throat as her hips rocked forwards, and Rick sat up straight to hold her steady against him. One hand curled around the back of her thigh, fingers pressing in, and the tight grip he had on her hair allowed him to hold her back. Even if she did lose a few strands of hair while trying to taste the jumping muscle in his jaw. Her eyes opened to look at him, to see how his usual stern expression hardened into something that echoed the hunger in her, and she tipped her head back to bare her throat as she let out another quiet sound of need.

“We have a guest,” Rick said slowly. He was looking directly at her, looking at the way her tongue swiped across her bottom lip as she chased the taste of him, and she forced herself to focus. Behind her, she could hear heavy leather shifting against concrete.

“Don’t stop on my account, boss. I’m gettin’ quite the show,” Harley told them cheerfully. Mission, right. If Harley was here, that meant that the mission was over. (Could also mean that Harley had gotten worried and decided to check on them, or it could mean that she had gotten impatient and just killed the target. Rev was okay with all the options.)

“Love ya, Harls, but… no,” Rev said and looked over her shoulder. When she bowed her spine to look over her shoulder without dislodging Rick’s hand from her hair, her hips rolled forward and Rick’s fingers slipped to grip at her inner thigh. From her bent angle, she could see Harley pouting and kicking at the ground.

“Always ruinin’ the fun,” Harley sighed. Rick echoed the sigh, so perfectly that Rev almost laughed, but she was saved from getting that lecture as Rick suddenly gripped her hips and lifted her from his lap.

“Harley, report,” he snapped out. Harley straightened, standing at perfect attention, and even her salute was right on point. Once Rick was standing, Rev dropped to sit in his chair and waited for the debrief to be over. In the meantime, she had some plans to make.

#oc: revina revnic #fic: memento vivere #revina revnic x rick flag #otp: need you closer #suicide squad #rick flag x ofc #kiss prompts #look #my original idea for this prompt was so much different #more action and more angst #but apparently #rev's thirst for rick overrides my ideas #so here's this #thanks again for the ask!!

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Text

Soulmate AU

Before you meet your soulmate you have to deal with a chibi version of them before actually meeting them. So can he handle it?

Kai's point of view since you guys wanted

Reader's view

Soulmates... a mere distraction and useless thing that appeared on the humanity. Seing thise with disgusting little versions of other persons on their shoulder or just howering over their head just gave him the nerves.

Ever since he turned 18, he tried to not think about it much... his chibi didn't appeared, and probably never would... Pops and Kurono always gave him as younger the bullshit of "be patient" or "Those things take time."

He didn't believed that neither want it. He didn't needed a stupid sick person to distract him from his mission... that's what he told himself.

One day, working he heard a crash and immediately sighed in annoyance. It wasn't a good day for him and he wasn't on the mood to atture anyone. Almost throwing his pen down, he got up with a grunt and went in search of where the noise went only to find the living room in complete chaos as Mimic, Nemoto and Setsuno holded weapons while looking at the ground.

"What the hell..?" He muttered before Setsuno shouted an "THERE! KILL IT!" before the three man started to stab, shot the ground as little squeak's echoed in the room.

He was about to scold everyone on that room before he almost shouted when he felt the reason of their misbehaviour bump into his leg. Looking down, glove already discarded, he saw a what was supposed to be a tiny creature, eyes shinning a vibrant (E/c) color while looking up at him while adjusting their (H/c) hair.

"What the-?" He cringed and hissed when the creature hugged his ankle and went to kill it before a elder hand grabbed on his wrist. The owner demanding that everyone excluding Chisaki left the room.

"Pops with all due respect-"

"My boy, after years you're really going to kill your soulmate?" The elder spoke with a frown as Chisaki tried to not widen his eyes. Pops crouched down and gently cupped the chibi in his hands and brought up for him and Kai to see more closely.

"My, isn't that one of prettiest chibis I saw?" The elder chuckled as the chibi blushed and squeaked happily at the man's commentary as Kai narrowed his eyes at the little thing. "Don't you agree my boy?" The elder asked as Kai glared one more time at the chibi before scoffing and storming out of the room.

The chibi tilted their head as Pops chuckled, letting the pretty thing down on the ground to follow Kai.

He sighed before widening his amber eyes at hearing the squeaking following him. He turned around and send a dark glare at the chibi who only smiled lovingly at him.

"Shoo. Be gone." He tried to shove them with his foot by all in vain since the chibi attached to his ankle and squeaked happily as he cringed. "GET OFF!"

Kurono appeared on the halls before snorting at the scene before commenting.

"Found your soulmate?"

"Shut up and help me get rid of this!" Kai glared at his friend who made a thoughtful expression before smirking and denying, hlgetting out and leaving Kai with the lovely chibi on his ankle.

He groaned as he tried to work and the chibi continued walking, playing or even squeaking to get his attention. The chibi wouldn't just leave him alone and always followed or tried to cuddle one part of his body and was getting already on his nerves.

His pacience broke when the chibi accidentally let a bit of his pen fall and he slammed his hands on his desk. Making the chibi squeak, but this time in fear.

"Get. Out. Of my office." He growled the words between his teeth, glaring at the chibi as hives slowly started to appear on his skin "I don't want to even hear your stupid squeaking or see your disgusting face again. Out."

The chibi stayed silent as Kai continued glaring at it before he let out a confused and quite shock noise when tears started to roll down their round cheeks as the chibi jumped from his desk and ran out of his office.

"Well... at least some peace." He sighed before taking his seat again. Getting back to work despite a feeling of guilt starting to grow on the back of his head.

It had been more than six hours since he last saw his chibi soulmate ever since he... blow off. Walking around the halls he couldn't help but sometimes look behind him sometimes to check if the chibi was following him... but it wasn't.

Frowning a bit he shook his head before an idea popped into his mind. Getting his phone out and start his research about the chibis.

Reading more and more about them he saw that his soulmate was actually a quite patient one... normally chibis when ignored by only half an hour they ran away from the person and never heard of again.... but it has been days since he had tried to ignore their existence, and his soulmate was still there, happily following him like a puppy.

Reading ore and more his heart dropped subconsciously when he saw that chibis were extremely fragile creatures. One hit and they might end up the actual person on a very bad and dangerous way. His worry and guilt were too overbearing as he got up and decided to look for the chibi around the house... just to prevent a death.

Yeah... it was only because of that. Je didn't wanted the yakusa to have a bad reputation if one person died becaus of a chibi.... because he was an asshole to them.

Although it reached around the night hours. And still hadn't found the damn chibi. Kurono noticed his distress and he admited the whole story so he could help him.

Kai was almost losing his mind, already admitting that he missed his chibi soulmate, not hearing their annoying squeak was torture now.

"Relax dude, we're going to find-"

"Is my fault. I shouldn't have growled at it." He admited begrudgingly, as Kurono tried his best to not just nod in agreement to not make his friend more stressed than he was.

The two walked towards the kitchen to get a drink before Kai almost felt his breath being ripped out of his chest when he saw the damn brat, sitting on the kitchen counter nibbling on a fruit, not aware of the presence of the two males on the room.

"There it is." Hati smirked as Kai let out a relieved sigh, hesitantly walking towards the chibi as Kurono went to bed.

"You brat, where were you?" He hadn't meant for his tone to be harsh, but immediately cringed when the chibi let out a terrified squeak and hidded behind the basquet of fruitsm

He did deserve that.

Sighing, he got a chair to sit down as he watched like a hawks the shaken chibi as he frowned.

"Apologies." He said nonchantly bit noticed it wasn't enough for the chibi to even poke their head out to look at him. "... I never expected to have a soulmate. I was always barely on my own... and as you cam see I am not the best person to be around of." He looked at the door frame a bit, the corner of his eyes spotting the chibi slowly getting out "Whenever I'm around, the fun ends. That's how always has been since the old man took me in. I... guess that I just think that I'm not suitable to have someone... I would just let them down anyway." He flinched and tensed at feeling something on his hand, only to look down at the chibi hugging his hand and looking up at him before squeaking a smile.

"... even despite of what I did to you, you forgive me that easy?" He arched one eyebrow at the another squeak. His smirk was hidded thanks by his mask as he awkwardly rubbed their chubby cheek with his thumb.

"Brat." He whispered as the chibi squeaked again as he allowed himself to finally be relieved on that day.

Ever since them, he put the brat, as he decided to call, on his shoulder since they seemed like to enjoy snuggle up on the purple feathers of his jacket. Everyone who dared to aproach or even try to touch it, Chisaki immediatly would overhaul them on the spot.

The brat, when the both were alone would always squeak loudly whenever he was wearing his mask. Grumpily he would take it off just to stop hearing the squeaking only for the chibi to kiss his cheek or even lips and ran away from him.

"Why you little-"

Rappa almost stepped on the chibi once, and no one believed that Kai actually shouted and cursed the man... no one even knew that Chisaki knew much cursed words as Kendo himself.

One day, opening the door of Eri's room he called the girl who shakily stood up before both of them widened their eyes when hearing a squeak and the chibi just popping out of Chisaki's jacket and waving at Eri.

"....u-uh...."

"Don't comment and just go Eri."

He really didn't know whether he should ignore it or just want the floor to swallow him after that.

Loosening his tie around is neck he found the chibi on the middle of his bed crying. Anger and concern immediately ran up to his veins as he looked around for any signs fro someone else that could have hitted you or other thing.

Then he remember something, chibis usually reflected what their actual versions were feeling at the moment and for the first time he felt empathy... slowly taking a seat he saw the tiny drops of water espace their eyes.

His gloved hand grabbed them, making them squeak as he apologised. Lowering his mask he glared at the chibi a bit before hesitantly and awkwardly peeking them.

Immediatly the humor of the chibi changed as they let out inumerous squeaks amd hugged his bare face and peppered it with tiny smooches as he grunted.

"I regret my decision already..." he growled as the chibi squeaked even more.

"They sound like they hadn't sleep in ages." Kurono commented with a laugh at seing Kai's soulmate almost drooling on his shoulder as Kai stared blankly at them.

"They're just a lazy brat." He murmured nonchantly before returning his gaze at his front as the chibi let out a cute yawn. "You know the deal, give them the product and leave, or else shoot."

"Got it." They went to turn on a alleyway before Kai let out a grunt when his chibi yanked on his pierced ear and started to squeak loudly and jump on his shoulder.

"What the hell?" Kurono commented as Kai grabbed the chibi on his gloved hand and glared at them.

"What's wrong with-" the chibi bited on his gloved hand and jumped on the floor and stomped out as Kai stared in horror as Kurono was froze in shock "they never did this before."

"Go after them. I will slow down the business." Kai nodded ass he ran after his chibi, ready to give them an hour of lecture for daring to pinch their small teeth on his hand.

"Get THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME-!" he shoved past the people as he ran after his soulmate that despite being little it was fast."GET BACK HERE YOU BRAT!"

The chibi stopped amd looked at him with a smile, poiting at the entrance of a market, squeaking and jumping before entering the place.

"You want to get killed you little-?!" He groaned and stormed in the market looking at the ground desperatly... he was already panicking again before he spotted the little shit turning on a aisle.

"For God's sake brat dont you-?!" He stopped on his tracks when he saw his chibi on the arms of another one. A small version of himself as it hugged lovingly his brat while he could even feel hearts emitting out of them.

"I see..." he muttered in shock to himself before gasping quietly when he heard another's voice, something like "goldie" before they stopped behind his chibi self.

He locked gaze with the familiar (E/c) beautiful eyes. His actual soulmate... was standing there, right in front of him...

They started to slowly take steps towards him and he subsconciously did the same...

He could feel his brat smilling up at him... as his own and only future love of his life giggled when he arched an eyebrow at then before laughing.

Exactly like he suspected...

He couldn't help but smile at the angel in front of him, knowing that for the first time on his life. Soulmates were actually a blessing since he finally found his brat.

#bnha villains #bnha #bnha characters #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #chisaki kai #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul x reader #overhaul #fanfic overhaul #my writing #zuffer writings

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