I love Sambucky ā¢ Obsessed w JJK, Pacific Rim, and Daredevil ā¢ Simplevanquish on TH and ao3 ā¢ Simplesop on discord ā¢ kinda high-key a failure but hiaa !
first fanfic in the jjk fandom lmao ive been binging so many itafushi fics recently so i wanted to try writing one of my own. it's still a work in progress but the first chapter is up
heres the ao3 summary:
āCan I?ā
AndĀ oh,Ā he's asking to hold hands here. Fuck. Megumi is so screwed because he absolutely can't say no when Yuji requests anything from him.
Now Yuji is going to hold Megumi's hand and he's going to find out exactly how Megumi feels about him and it's going to be the end of him.
Or, itafushi but it gets harder to hide their love for each other following the events of Shibuya
and the link:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
For the writing request game any fratt hurt/comfort? šš where Matt is like in the biggest need of a hug and kiss LOL jus want that man at least almost crying and franks there to comfort him
He can take a punch. Blood in his mouth. Fractured ribs. Broken bones. Matt knows that pain like a friend thatās walked by his side all his life; he can close his eyes and breathe his way through it. He knows how to will his body to heal.
He can take almost anything.
But then thereās this: the softening of Frankās jaw as he takes in the sight of Matt in front of him, so wired up with emotion that heās struggling to stay in place. Matt hears the relaxing of his fist; the gentle whistle of air through his nose as the tension dials down.
No.
āStop it,ā Matt hisses - and, God, he hates the way his voice waivers. He hates the shake of it. The weakness. āDonāt you dare. Donāt.ā
āRed,ā Frank breathes.
Matt knows the sound of pity. He knows how it grates.
āDonāt,ā he whispers again.
But Frankās already reaching for him. Matt flinches: heās ready for a punch, he wants a punch, but what Frank gives him is so much worse.
Thereās the rough grabbing of Frankās hands, but itās not followed up with an attack. With a grunt Frank pulls him tight against his chest - Frank ignores the tightening of Mattās fists and the brief, pointless struggle, and Matt finds himself held before he can stand it. He could stop this, he knows. He could launch an attack of his own and leave blood and pain behind, and nothing else.
But his cold nose brushes against the warmth of Frankās neck. Frankās hand rests against the back of Mattās head, big and firm; thereās something about the way it demands everything and nothing all at once that makes Matt feel like something new is breaking inside him all over again - itās worse than broken ribs, worse than a collapsed lung.
āEasy,ā Frank breathes by his ear. Itās pitched so low that itās for him, only for him. A puff of warm air and nothing else. āEasy, Red. I got you. Iām not going anywhere.ā
He hates him for it.
āIām not going anywhere,ā Frank repeats again like a promise like that means nothing. Like it means everything.
āStop it.ā His lips are cracked. His hands are shaking.
He isnāt trying to break away from Frank any more. Frankās fingers thread gently through his hair and it works; itās soft, itās soothing, itās everything he needs and canāt have. Matt can feel himself breaking even as he scrambles to hold his own pieces together.
He can take a punch, he thinks as Frank holds him. But he canāt take this.
*sends out email I've been putting off* ah finally :). ah that's a weight off my shoulders :). ah I can relax an-- *receives response to email* what the fuck. what the fuck. what the fuckkkk
In the aftermath of a messy night together, Frank looks at the ropes he's left around Matt's wrists and the marks they've both left behind.
For the @frattweek prompt "rope". This has been such a fun event - thank you so, so much to the organisers! I've only been able to write one fic for the week, but I've been eagerly devouring as much as I can.
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