#because I always open those hoping to learn some subtle stuff I missed but they just recap what is directly in the game

[llitchilitchi]

people always complain about a story not making sense because they refuse to read the notes and stuff found around in the world and call it bad game design, but when a story has a lot of exposition in dialogue its bad writing because its exposition dump, and when the notes and dialogue are made to be minimal so people can only learn the lore they feel like learning the story is "badly delivered" because it was not spoon-fed to us? just say you hate spending time learning the lore and go

#litchi.txt #I am soooooooooo tired of this #every single game review bitches about at least One of these #if theres a game review that talks about any of these positively I am subscribing to the person immediately #'my adhd doesnt let me read long notes' thats nice but you also skip the dialogue like HOW do you want the story delivered #i am starting to understand why 'STORY EXPLAINED' youtube videos are so big #because I always open those hoping to learn some subtle stuff I missed but they just recap what is directly in the game #and Im like 'what is the point like why would anyone need the story explained to them after watching/playing thru it' #and just. yeah #before anyone comes at me about being ableist with the adhd comment I have adhd and I just kinda accept it #like I either suffer through stuff or I skip it and then Im like 'oh shit I shouldve actually paid attention' #i wish there was a better way to go about it (and I think oblivion does a p good job at summing up 10 page books into 2 sentences in the #character journal) but theres honestly no way to go about this without the player putting some time and effort into learning the lore

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Bratty Girl inspired me lol. I love the idea of a naked vulnerable reader x Marilyn Thornhill story. How about teacher's assistant reader and Marilyn go on a hiking/camping trip to obtain some rare plant species in between the school terms. This is before they admit their feelings but there's lots of yearning and tension. Maybe on the first night, reader's tent is missing a part so her tent is useless and they have to share Marilyn's, which makes the tension even thicker. Eventually reader gets exposed to some type of plant that's extremely dangerous, like makes the reader groggy and if left too exposed to it, can make one go to sleep permanently, idk, just something that forces Marilyn to have to drag reader to a stream, strip her down and wash the pollen off of her. Once the adrenaline wears off, Marilyn realizes she has a naked reader in her arms and she begins to caress reader, reader moans and it snaps both of them out of it and reader gets embarrassed and shies and cover herself. Later on reader is quiet and tells Marilyn she's going to change her major because she doesn't think she's cut out for botany, making such dumb mistakes as getting exposed to those kinds of plants and Marilyn gets mad at 1st for reader for just quitting but then begs reader to reconsider and then all the tension snaps and they have sex. Lol thank you for all the awesome stories! 🫶

Yess!!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it!!! And sorry about the language mistakes!!! Thank you for your request, it was so funny to write!!! :)))))

In the middle of the woods

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, assintant! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive smut (not too explicit)

Word count: 8,125

Summary: You were Marilyn’s assistant, a girl who wants to learn about botany. Marilyn thought that to go to a forest to take some plants would be a good idea…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Okay, tell me again why we can't enjoy the holidays like the students do,” you said, closing the trunk of Marilyn's little beetle. She looked at you and smiled, probably tired of your protests.

“It's only a couple of days, (Y/N), I don't think it's that bad,” she said, moving your stuff in the small trunk. “In addition, these kinds of excursions are necessary if you want to be a botany expert.

You were thoughtful, but you couldn't do anything but agree with her.

After many years studying science at the university, you finally arrived at the moment you had been waiting for, internship, getting out of the boring classes and starting to get to know what your job would be. One of your teachers was kind enough to recommend you to a friend of hers, Larissa Weems, who was the principal of a quirky academy on a small town in Vermont outskirts. It was no coincidence that it was a school for outcasts since for as long as you can remember, you could move things as you pleased.

Nevermore was a strange place, but cozy. You would be the Marilyn Thornhill, the botany teacher’s assistant in there.

It didn't take you too long to become friends. She was kind, loving and always had a smile for everyone, and so for you. Being next to her you learned more things than your teachers had taught you and you discovered that choosing the botany specialty was not a mistake at all.

As the first months passed, a tension arose, a strange feeling that only emerged when you tow were alone. You couldn't say what it was exactly, but you also didn't believe in love at first sight, although it was hard for you to deny that Marilyn made a great first impression on you.

You tried not to think about it too much, you tried to concentrate on your work and learn all the things you still didn't know. It was very frustrating to have spent years at university and feeling that now you were really getting to know plants and their properties.

Every day you ended up exhausted, as you always tried to do your best, under Larissa's subtle promise of hiring you if your work was good enough. Marilyn was an incredible woman, but she was just a normie surrounded by teenage monsters, she couldn't do it all by herself.

Teaching at a high school was very far from your expectations as a scientist, but when you discovered how rewarding it was to share your knowledge, you began to rethink it. It was just because of that, not because of Marilyn, that's for sure.

But like everything in life, there were also small inconveniences, like that excursion that Marilyn planned for that week of vacation. According to her, students need to know all the existing flora, to know what its dangers and peculiarities are. To do this, there was no other option than to go out in search of the rarest specimens that could be found in the vicinity of Jericho, and that was your mission, to find rare plants and take them to the conservatory.

For you, camping was something exaggerated, but at the same time interesting. You always saw Marilyn as a shy and reserved woman, seeing her on an adventure like that made you very curious. Just that, curiosity, nothing else.

“Do you have everything you need?” The redhead asked. You gave her a thumbs up and nodded. “Great, let's go. Hopefully we'll get there before it gets dark.”

“Before the wolves eat us...” You whispered with a falsely scared voice. She laughed, shaking her head and getting into the car.

“There are no wolves where we are going, (Y/N),” she said, starting the engine.

You winked at her, plopping down into the passenger seat.

“Surely you don't know that two women alone in the woods is the premise of many horror movies,” you said jokingly. She was used to it, she seemed to be amused by your comments. It seemed strange to you that your nonsense always managed to make her smile. You even thought it was faker than 5 dollar coins.

But her face was sincere and her smiles were real, at least that was what your precarious intuition told you.

“Do you like horror movies?” She asked, probably wanting to bring up a topic of conversation.

While you were working at the academy there was no problem talking about anything, but this was a different situation, something more intimate, and therefore tense, tense as hell.

“Well, I like them, but I'm unable to watch them alone,” you responded, playing with the car radio, trying to find a station that didn't talk about the news. Marilyn looked at you briefly, nodding.

“Then you don't like them,” she said, amused. You looked at her mockingly.

“Of course I do,” you said defiantly. “Just because you are afraid of something doesn't mean anything.”

“If you liked them you wouldn't be afraid...” She answered in a funny tone, slurring her words.

“Just because something scares you doesn't mean you can't like it,” you reaffirmed, pretending to be outraged.

“Do you think so?” She asked, with a tone that seemed far from jokes and innocent questions. You nodded, although you had a hard time knowing if you were still talking about movies.

“Well, I think you can miss out on a lot of good things by being afraid of something,” you said quietly, as if the words had come out of your mouth on their own.

“So what are you afraid of, (Y/N)?” Marilyn asked, without taking her eyes off the road.

“To begin with, of camping in a forest far from civilization,” you said amused. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye, but she gave you a half smile. “Just kidding, I guess I’m afraid of many things... What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you afraid of?” You asked curiously.

“Right now? I’m afraid of college girls who mess with the radio and delete all my presets,” she said ironically. You stuck your tongue out at her.

“How funny,” you said indignant for not having managed to get more information about her, and confused because you really wanted to do it.

“If you want to listen to music, there are a lot of CDs in the compartment, take the one you like the most,” she told you, forgetting the topic, as if she was somehow uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Okaaaay,” you sighed, opening the small compartment. “Very old… Too sad… Wow, this one is from the year I was born,” You said while looking at the cds. Marilyn just shook her head and smiled at your attitude.

The trip wasn't boring, you didn't even sleep like you always did. The conversation was dull, empty, but funny, entertaining. The sun was already threatening to set and you were desperately looking for where on the map she gave you, your destination was.

“Okay, I think it's the next exit right after the gas station, or so I think...” You said doubtfully. Marilyn nodded and obeyed your orders, moving from the smooth, comfortable asphalt to a rough dirt road.

After traveling for half an hour through a scary-looking forest, you passed a sign indicating that it was an area where camping was allowed.

“Well, we've arrived,” she said triumphantly, with a long sigh of exhaustion. “Come, let's set up the tents before the sunlight goes out completely,” she said, getting out of the car.

You got out and stretched exaggeratedly, grabbing your luggage.

“Hey, this place is not bad,” you said looking around. It was a clearing in which there were hardly any trees and the tune of a nearby stream produced a calm that contrasted with your university years in the big city.

“I’ve told you so...” Marilyn said, putting her things on the ground. “Have you brought the hammer?”

“Yes...” You whispered, searching for the tool in your backpack. “Take it.”

“Thank you,” Marilyn said, accidentally brushing her hand with yours. Those chills you felt weren't because of the temperature and that made you a little nervous. You had never considered analyzing the feelings you had for Marilyn. She was something like your boss, like your teacher, at best, a friend.

But the evidence was undeniable. The desire that deep down you had to spend time alone with her, your cheeks blushing when she gave you a compliment, or simply smiled. You had to stop fooling yourself, you liked Marilyn and the sooner you recognized it, the easier it would be to control your feelings so that they grew, so that your heart would stop beating so fast in her presence.

You shook your head and left your tent on the ground. Surely setting it would be the perfect distraction to get those thoughts away.

“Okay... Let's see how is works…” You said looking at the crumpled paper with the instructions. You could barely see the letters, it was getting dark too fast. “Marilyn! Do you have a flashlight?”

The redhead, who was already done with her tent, looked at you and nodded.

“Yes, wait a minute,” she told you, running a hand down your back, causing you those shivers again.

“Hey... You finished right away...” You said, standing up and taking the small lantern that she offered to you. “This isn't the first time you've done this, huh?” You asked, amazed at her speed with the tent.

“Actually, I haven't done it in years,” she said, amused.

“Anyone would say it, I don't even know where to start...” You said somewhat embarrassed.

“Do you need me to help you?” She asked kindly. You were a proud girl, you immediately shook your head.

“No, no, I, I can...” You said stuttering. You were proud, but not a liar.

“Okay,” she responded, returning to her tent.

It didn't take long for you to fall prey to despair. You regretted not stopping at a mall and grabbing one of those new tents that you just had to throw into the air.

“Shit... Shit... They're not there...” You said nervously, searching in the tent cover for something quite basic, the small pegs that anchored it to the ground.

“What's not there?” She asked, scaring you. Surely she had been watching your pathetic attempts to set up the tent correctly for some time.

“Please tell me you brought extra pegs...” You said pleadingly, sweating due to the stress. She opened her eyes wide and picked up the small lantern that you left on the ground.

“You haven't brought them?” She asked, illuminating the area around her.

“Obviously I haven’t... Oh...” You sighed, letting yourself fall on the grass. “Brilliant.”

“Well, calm down, (Y/N), my tent is big enough for both of us,” she said matter-of-factly. You woke up impressed by that proposal. “Unless you prefer to sleep outside, of course…”

“I... It's okay...” You said defeated, kicking the mess you had made in place of your tent.

The idea was bold, disturbing, and you probably didn't think it through at the time. You were so nervous that when you realized what that meant, you started to shake. She didn't seem to care, but her expression hardened a little, as if she had spoken too quickly too.

You left your stuff in her tent, seeing if it was as spacious as she claimed. It didn't seem wide enough for you to sleep without rubbing against her body, but there was no turning back. Night had fallen heavily on the forest.

After eating some dinner, you went into the tent clearing your throat. Marilyn was in her underwear, changing her clothes, and she made no effort to cover herself when you entered. You looked away as much as you could and slowly got into your sleeping bag, just like she did.

There was a small moment of tense silence.

Just as you suspected, the tent was not big enough, you felt the heat of her body next to you, too close. It was cold, but you weren't shivering because of that, but because of something else, something that you knew you were feeling and that made you regret having accepted that excursion. A cold, electrifying current enveloped the two of you, making you unable to say anything.

The silence made you even more nervous, and that wasn't good, that just made you have to talk, say something, and it was almost never something that made sense.

“Do you know that the less clothes you carry in your bag, the hotter you are?” You said without thinking, closing your eyes in regret. You couldn't help it, the tension had always been something unbearable for you.

Marilyn turned with an arched eyebrow.

“What?” She said, laughing.

“Well, that's what they told me,” you said, dying of shame. Marilyn turned to you and smiled at your nervousness.

“Try to sleep, (Y/N), I'm sure you'll be calmer tomorrow,” she told you, rubbing your arm. You jumped in place a bit and frowned.

“I'm calm,” you said, being firm with your words.

“You are? Because I think that the tremor of your leg may cause the tent to collapse,” she said, amused, pointing to your leg, which kept moving exaggeratedly. You stopped moving it, feeling an overwhelming heat on your cheeks.

You had to get out of that predicament somehow, not let her realize that you were really nervous, that she was the reason for the uncontrollable shaking of your body.

“Well… I already told you that it's not very comfortable for me to be alone in the woods,” you lied, pretending to look around you scared.

“Here there is nothing and nobody, (Y/N), you don't have to be afraid,” she said, getting closer to you.

“That's what scares me…” You sighed, trying to imagine horrible things to make your version more credible. “A friend told me that her cousin went camping with her friends in a forest...” You said, opening your eyes wide and making a dark voice.

“(Y/N)...” Marilyn sighed.

“Wait, wait,” you said, gaining self confidence. “The first night everything went well, until the next morning they saw that there was an ax stuck in a nearby tree… Someone had been there…”

“Are you trying to scare me?” Marilyn asked, with a slightly nervous tone.

“Nope, I’m just telling you what happened,” you said, lowering your tone and creating a propitious atmosphere with your words. “The group split up to look for firewood for that night's bonfire… Everyone returned except one couple. They waited for hours, but they did not appear. They thought: They will be having fun…” You dramatized.

Marilyn listened to you attentively, settling.

“That night they drank, played teenage games... They were totally unconcerned about the disappearance of their friends… They went to sleep. The next morning everyone screamed in horror. There was no longer one, but several axes stuck in a tree, along with their friends’ heads. They screamed in fear, they tried to find help, but it was too late, the killer was after them. My friend's cousin managed to escape from an ax blow, but it was useless, there was nowhere to hide. She thought that she was already safe, that that killer stopped chasing her, but it was just an illusion since... He was... Just righ behind her!” You screamed, scaring Marilyn, who also screamed in terror.

“(Y/N)!” She protested with disgust. “For God's sake…” She said, breathing agitated. You laughed at her reaction and the satisfaction of having put those thoughts out of your head.

“Did you like the story?” You asked jokingly. Marilyn gave your arm a gentle smack and sat on her bag, running a hand over her forehead.

“Beautiful,” she said, annoyed.

“Wait, wait, I haven't told you the best yet...”

“Oh, God…” She sighed, between laughter and fear. “I don't want to know, I don't want you to tell me.”

“Well, you should want to, because that forest... Was this same one!” You shouted again, laughing out loud.

“I see that you really want to sleep outside, (Y/N),” she said, shaking her head. You shook your head and covered your mouth to stop laughing.

“Oh, come on, it was just a joke,” you said. She made a wry face and lit the lantern that was hung from the tent. “Have I really scared you?”

“Of course not, I’m just looking for something…” She said, tangling in her backpack.

“For what?”

“I think there's something you don't know, (Y/N)…” She said, taking something out of her backpack. You chuckled softer and tried to look over her shoulder.

“Oh really? What?” You asked surprised.

“That the killer…Was me!” She yelled, brandishing a small garden tool resembling an axe. You jumped and backed away.

“Oh, fuck!” You said, placing a hand on your chest, while she laughed in amusement.

“Oh, poor thing, did I scare you?” Marilyn said, pouting.

“Stop, not at all,” you said upset and trembling, trying to recover her dignity. “Well played, Marilyn…”

The night passed with hardly any complications, only with the uncomfortable tension of having her body next to yours, of noticing how she moved towards you while she slept. You couldn't just close your eyes and sleep, not right then. It was cold and that caused your body to also move towards hers involuntarily. You wondered about when you started to have feelings for that woman, but you had no answer, maybe she was just what you were always looking for and found by chance. Absurd and terrible thoughts, you would never be anything more than a friend, a companion to her.

“Okay, that's it... Slowly... Carefully...” Marilyn told you, while you pulled a plant out of the ground to place it in a glass jar. “Well done, (Y/N), we already got another one.”

The morning had been purely scientific. With laughter and absurd jokes, but with work above all else. You had gotten a lot of rare and curious species for your classes, and besides, you were learning a lot of things.

But your feet ached from so much walking, and all you thought about going back to the camp.

“Is there much left, Mari?” You asked, exaggerating your tiredness, leaning on a tree branch to walk.

“No, just a couple more sections and we can go to rest.”

“I really want to take a bath right now…” You said, sitting on a rock. Marilyn smiled as she looked at the notebook where she wrote down everything you were finding. “Hey, what if we split?”

“Split?”

“Yes, I'm going to one section and you to the other, so we cover more ground and we can finish sooner.”

“I don't know, (Y/N), it doesn't seem like a good idea,” Marilyn said, taking notes.

“Why not?” You said huffing, looking at the small map that the redhead was carrying. “Come on, it will be faster this way, and I'm sure it will be useful for me to explore on my own. Look, I'll go… This way…”

“No, not that way, (Y/N),” She said, taking the map you had taken from you.

“Come on... Give me some confidence... Please...” You said pleadingly. You really wanted to learn things, to see that you were made for the world of plants, but what you really wanted was a bath in the stream, possibly next to her, a funny dinner and returning to the tent, to sleep next to her.

Marilyn shook her head but she seemed to think about it. You put your hands together and put on your best pleading face.

“Okay…” She said, giving up. Out of excitement, you threw yourself into her arms and kissed her cheek, something that made that tense silence reign again in the forest. Marilyn didn't seem upset, but she was a little confused, smiling shyly. “But be very careful... Especially about this,” she said, shaking her head and forgetting your effusiveness. She took a photograph out of the notebook and showed it to you, it looked like a flower, similar to a dandelion.

“What is it?” You asked curiously. “Oh, okay...” You said, reading the convoluted scientific name of that plant.

“It's very dangerous, (Y/N). Listen to me, if you see it, I want you to let me know, okay? And don't touch it under any circumstances.”

“It is poisonous?”

“Terribly poisonous. If you touch the flower, the pollen will disperse throughout your body, making you suffer severe drowsiness. I guess you've heard of the tsetse fly...”

“Yes, sleep forever...” You said, cautiously observing the photograph.

“Well, this plant acts the same way. Please be very careful.”

You nodded, putting the photo in your pants and smiling again, carefree.

“Don't worry, I'll be careful,” you said, smiling and walking away from the redhead.

After a few minutes walking, and just as Marilyn had warned you, there were those strange flowers.

“Great,” you said to yourself, crossing out its name on the notebook you were carrying. “I found you.”

Marilyn had specifically told you to warn her, that this plant was very dangerous, but you didn't do it at first, instead you crouched down to see those strange flowers up close.

“Or is it a real dandelion? Let's see...” You said, observing the flowers more closely. You took out the utensils and an empty jar from your backpack, ready to do the work yourself, disobeying her advice. You needed to feel useful in some way, to feel that your knowledge was expanding enough to demonstrate to Marilyn and, especially to Larissa, that you were worthy of that vacant position, so that once you finished college, you could stay in Nevermore forever. A horrible decision.

You had not brought the scalpel close to the flowers when a strange dizziness came over you, as if you suddenly felt extreme fatigue. That made you grumble and sit up. Your intentions were good, but apparently Marilyn was telling the truth and you should stay away from those flowers.

“Marilyn! I've found them!” You shouted, being unable to cut a single one of those flowers.

“Great! Wait for me, I'll be right away, don't move!” You heard the redhead scream.

You nodded, somewhat frustrated, and bent down again to look at the plants and take some pictures. The dizziness returned, but you didn't intend to stay there, you would be quick.

A flock of birds appeared just at that moment, scaring you to death, causing you to lose your balance and inevitably fall on top of the flowers.

“Oh, shit...” You complained, placing your hands on the ground and getting up, without success. Dizziness made you stagger and fall backwards abruptly. The trees that you saw began to circle around you and a strong desire to sleep made you fight against your eyelids so that they would not close.

“(Y/N)!” Marilyn shouted. She appeared from the trees. Scared, she ran to you. “What happened?”

“The flowers...” You said with a weak voice, pointing to the responsible plants. Marilyn's eyes widened in fear and she crouched down.

“Oh my God, didn't I tell you not to come closer to them?” She told you, assessing your sleepy state.

“Eh... It wasn't my fault, I fell...” You whispered, trying to move, but without success. “Marilyn… I'm, I'm very sleepy…” You said with a sad and exhausted voice.

“(Y/N), no, don't fall asleep, hold on a bit. Oh my God, my God,” The redhead said, giving you little slaps on the cheeks to wake you up. “You have to clean off all that pollen, come on, come on.”

Marilyn grabbed you as best she could by the waist, staying as far away from you and the poison as possible. You were weak and couldn't walk, you couldn't let Marilyn carry you, you just let yourself fall to the ground.

“No, no, no, no...” She repeated nervously, now dragging you back to the camp. “Open your eyes, hold on...”

“I'm sleepy...” You managed to whisper when Marilyn left you on the the stream bank, taking off your backpack and jacket.

“Come on, honey, hold on a little longer, I'm going, I'm going to help you,” the redhead said, trying to keep your head stable, something impossible, since sleep was about to overcome you. At that time you were just a rag doll, letting Marilyn handle you at her whim, carefully taking off your clothes.

“Hold on...” She whispered, pulling down your pants and underwear. “Come on, hold on, (Y/N),” she said.

With you now completely naked, Marilyn dragged you again under your arms and put you next to her in the icy stream. Her voice also sounded weak, but she didn't seem as affected as you, as she managed to get you completely into the water.

Surely you must have felt something when you felt the cold water on your body, but it was barely a tingle, a sensation that was too weak. You were about to faint, nothing mattered to you except sleep, not even her hands rubbing your skin and washing you in the water could overcome your exhaustion.

“Come on, come on, open your eyes, please...” The redhead pleaded, dipping you into the stream and pulling you out several times. “Open them honey, please…”

Little by little the sensation of the cold water became more and more intense and finally, you managed to shake your head and open your eyes for a moment. Marilyn smiled nervously.

“Thank God...” She sighed, pulling you again to get you out of the water.

You stayed in her lap, clinging to her, unable to make a move, or be fully aware of what was happening.

“That's it, my love... That's it...”

You were exhausted, even with dizziness dominating your senses. Marilyn's heavy breathing relaxed little by little as she caressed your face and hugged you, sitting on the ground next to your naked body.

With a long sigh, things seemed to relax. Her breathing was no longer nervous, but slow, calming.

Marilyn looked down to study your features and assess the state you were in. You managed to move one arm and grab onto her clothes. It was an involuntary movement, due to the shock and fear you had gone through. You couldn't speak and you were still fighting not to fall asleep.

“That's it, honey... It's all over...” She whispered softly to you, caressing your cheeks.

Silence fell again and her eyes wandered over your naked body. Her breathing became nervous again, seemingly for no reason.

Now you could feel something, and it wasn't cold or terror, but rather you noticed her hand gently passing over your arm, over your chest, over your belly.

“Your body is beautiful, (Y/N)... You are so beautiful...” She whispered in an almost inaudible tone, caressing your body, your bare skin, enjoying the softness of your skin while you felt relief.

“Mmm…” You moaned, still dizzy. “Marilyn…” You whispered, slurring your words. She seemed to withdraw her hand, but on the contrary, she continued with her caresses, bordering on those most private areas in a disturbing way, as if she were fighting with herself not to do it, not to touch you where she shouldn't.

“I'm losing my mind,” Marilyn said to herself, intensifying her caresses, unable to stop looking at you, or rather, admiring you. “My love… You are so beautiful.”

You snuggled into her lap, never letting go of her clothes, clinging to your savior without really being aware of what was going on in her mind, the way she touched your body, the way she touched you.  She looked at you... If you had seen it, you probably would have found it inappropriate, but you couldn't think straight, and her touch was almost healing, nothing else mattered.

As if you had been suddenly resurrected, you suddenly opened your eyes and moved in fear, looking around.

“What...?” You said, trying to orient yourself and remember why you were there. “What happened to me?”

“(Y/N)… You're fine, you're safe,” Marilyn told you, holding your face with her hands, smiling with joy to see you fully awake.

“Safe? Oh... My head hurts...” You said, bringing a hand to your forehead. When you did, you realized something disturbing. Your arm was bare. You frowned and slowly lowered your gaze, realizing that not only your arm was exposed, but your entire body. “Oh no… I'm… I'm naked! Shit! Shit, Shit!” You screamed, getting up awkwardly and running towards the tent, desperately looking for something to cover yourself with.

“(Y/N), calm down, relax... I, I'm sorry,” Marilyn said, going after you, apologizing desperately.

You went into the tent, looking for one of your blankets and you put it around your body, embarrassed and still with that terrible headache.

You came out already covered and looked with intrigue at the redhead, who was playing with her hands, nervous.

“Why was I naked? What the hell happened?” You asked, clinging to the blanket. Marilyn sighed, not seeming to find the words.

“I, I couldn't do anything else, honey... You fell into the flowers and... I had, I had to do it, I had to remove the pollen from your body.”

“It's true, those flowers…” You whispered, sitting down on one of the camping chairs, beginning to feel deeply ashamed of your clumsiness.

“Are you okay?” She asked, leaning towards you. You nodded grumbling.

You felt anger, frustration, shame. A lot of things and all of them not very pleasant. You wanted to be the best at your job, but that horrible experience made you doubt many things, including yourself.

“I think so...” You said in an almost inaudible tone.

“You have to put on some clothes... Don't get cold... I... I'll prepare something warm for you in the meantime.”

You looked at her briefly, realizing that her clothes were wet as well. A little memory made you know why. You remembered the stream, the cold water, and also being about to fall asleep, forever. You nodded without speaking and returned to the tent.

When you came out, Marilyn was cooking on the camping gas. You didn't want to be detected, so you walked slowly, sitting back down in the chair with your head down and a lot of thoughts that you started to think about while you were getting dressed.

It was assumed that she knew more about plants than you, that if she told you something it was for your own good, but you didn't listen, you risked your life for ambition and pride,  just to try to spend the rest of your life with her.

You always loved plants, everything they could do, their varieties, their colors... But a hobby was often far from a vocation. That little incident made you realize. You'd have to spend decades in college to not make the same mistakes, that's what you thought at the time.

Marilyn noticed your presence and she looked at you briefly, moving a spoon in the bowl over the fire. Her look was not the usual one, she seemed embarrassed about something, she seemed to feel guilty. That made you even clearer about what your next step would be, much to your regret.

“Here, honey, it's soup,” she said affectionately, handing you a hot plate. The warmth of that plate made you smile and you brought it to your nose, enjoying its aroma.

“Thank you, Marilyn...” You whispered, tasting a little and closing your eyes, feeling the heat run down your body, warming your cold bones. She nodded, looking away from you and went into the tent, probably to change her clothes, she had gotten wet too.

You looked at the sky, which was already full of stars. You were looking for an answer, but you didn't know the question. It was clear that you were not suitable for botany, at least that's what you thought, but walking away, retiring from your work meant walking away from many things, walking away from Marilyn.

It was a difficult decision, but the night stars didn't seem to want to help you. You drank the soup in complete silence, trying to clear your thoughts.

You finished the plate and left it on the table, approaching the small lantern that was on top, watching how the insects danced excitedly with the light. The noise of a zipper diverted your attention. Marilyn left the tent, her embarrassed expression unchanged, nor wanting to say a single word.

She sat next to you and started looking at the stars too. You had already made a decision, but you couldn't find the words, or the moment to tell her. It was a painful, cowardly decision, but it was what your low self-esteem believed was right.

“Marilyn...” You said quietly, drawing the redhead's attention. She looked at you and nodded for you to continue. “I think, I think I'd better quit…”

She frowned at you, shaking her head.

“Quit?”

“Yeah, you know, work. I just learned the hard way that I'm not good at this...”

Marilyn laughed nervously and began to breathe quickly.

“What? You're not serious...” She said, denying what you had just said. “You're just tired, I'm sure you'll see things differently tomorrow.”

“I'm being serious, Marilyn. I almost died because I was so clumsy as to fall into the flowers, disobeying your warning. This time you were there to help me, but when I graduate there will be no one to help me. No, it's not my thing, botany is not my thing. Tomorrow I'll call Larissa and…”

Marilyn looked at you with surprised and sad eyes and she rose from her chair, leaning towards you and putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Don't talk nonsense, (Y/N), it was just an accident,” she said with a nervous smile. “Everyone, we have all made mistakes, you shouldn't give up because of that.”

“It wasn't a mistake, it was an oversight, I crouched down even though I knew I shouldn't have done it and that damn pollen almost killed me. No, I don't want to cause any more problems, it's best if I go and...”

Marilyn moved uneasily from one side to the other, looking for what to say to you, making helpless gestures, as if she were rehearsing her response in her head.

“And that's it? Do you just give up?” She said upset, with a tone that emanated a certain anger.

You sighed and nodded, looking away from her.

“It's the best...” You said, looking at the stars again.

“The best? The best for whom?” She asked ironically, crossing her arms.  “I know it was hard, but you're fine now, it was just an accident.”

“Today was an accident, but tomorrow something else may happen to me and not even you can save me. I'm sorry, Marilyn, but it's my decision,” you said, also getting up from the chair.

“It's your decision...” She repeated, moving nervously, laughing in a disturbing way. “You are being a coward.”

You laughed at that accusation and shook your head.

“Well, you can call me a coward if you want, but I'm not going to put more people's lives in danger because of my clumsiness.”

“You are...” the redhead said between her teeth. “Oh, okay, you know what? Do whatever you want. If you want to leave, then great,” she said, going into her tent.

“Are you taking me to Jericho tomorrow?” You asked indignantly, not understanding the redhead's anger, further straining the rope of her patience.

There was no answer.

The camp fell silent again. You clenched your fists tightly. You didn't understand the reason for that anger, if only she knew how hard it was for you to make that decision, how bad it would be for you to walk away from her... But, obviously she wasn't able to read your mind, to know what you were thinking or feeling.

A yawn, and the lack of tea in your glass, told you that it was time to sleep. You thought that since you hadn't heard from Marilyn in a while, she had probably already fallen asleep.

With as much subtlety as you could, you slipped into the tent. Marilyn was tucked into her bag, facing the side of the store. She showed no signs of being awake, but you also didn't hear the funny sounds she made while asleep.

You carefully climbed into your bag and turned your back on her, crossing your arms. Maybe it was a decision you made abruptly, but you already knew you were proud, nothing at that moment could change your mind, or so you thought.

“(Y/N)…” Marilyn whispered, in what sounded like a sob. You turned with a serious, annoyed look. “I, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” you said, turning around again.

“I shouldn't have talked to you that way.”

“Hey, what do you care if I go? Anyone who knows how to breathe and walk at the same time is going to be a better assistant than me,” you said, involuntarily resuming that absurd discussion.

“What I care? You don't know anything, (Y/N),” she said, turning on the tent’s lantern and sitting down. You did the same, not removing the frown you had.

“Maybe,” you said, sighing ironically. “You've already seen how clumsy I am. Would you mind enlightening me?”

Marilyn snorted at your irony but she stared at the floor of the store, clutching her knees to her chest.

“You don't know what it's like to be the only normi in Nevermore, (Y/N). At school everyone ignores me, they take me for an idiot. There are teachers who don't even know my name. But when I thought there was no hope for me, you came and turned my world upside down...” She said, in something similar to a confession. –“With your nonsense, your bad jokes, your smiles... You made my days easier, so that I didn't have to pretend to smile... And now you go and tell me that you're leaving, that you're giving up... You have no idea about what do you mean to me...”

Thinking about those words warmed you up, made you realize that what she said was true, you rarely saw her talk to another person. Deep in your heart, that was the closest thing to a love confession, but you knew that couldn't be true. There was no reason to express your feelings at that moment, at least not ones that didn't involve saying I love you.

“Do you think I like the idea of separating from you? Damn, Marilyn, you are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known,” you said angrily, hitting the tent floor with your fists. “Just, I'm just trying to realize my place in the world.”

“You seem to like this idea, (Y/N). I don't need pity, or for you to tell me what I want to hear,” she said, shaking her head. “I've had enough of Weems' complacent looks.”

“Damn it, I'm telling the truth!” You screamed, squirming on the spot, tears beginning to form in your eyes. “Is it so difficult for you to believe that there is someone who... Well, who appreciates you... Who, who loves you?”

You had already said it. In a subtle way, but you had said it. You were angry, angry at his apparent lack of understanding. Your cheeks turned red and it made you want to run through the forest.

Marilyn looked at you, but she didn't say anything, she just rubbed her eyes. It didn't seem possible, but she was crying.

“Please, (Y/N)... Just, just reconsider...” She said, now with a pleading tone. “Don’t, don't go, please.”

“Why?” You asked, relaxing, feeling that something you couldn't identify made you approach her.

“Yesterday you asked me if there was something that scared me, that was scary to me...” She said, without being able to look you in the eyes. “Well yes, (Y/N), there is something. I'm afraid of losing you.”

“But, but why?” You asked, grabbing her shoulder to force her to look at you.

She now looked at you. She seemed to be having a terrible time, she seemed to want to say something that she couldn't, or that she shouldn't. With a sigh, Marilyn brought her hands to your cheeks, caressing them gently. You closed your eyes. That wasn't a simple gesture of affection, not at that moment. It was something else, and knowing it made you shiver, made you lean towards her.

“I don't want you to leave... Stay with me, please...” She said, resting her forehead against yours. You shook your head, running her hands over her shoulders, across her chest. You both quickened your breathing and stared at each other.

“I... I don't want to get away from you...” You said against her lips. “I can't…”

“(Y/N), I…” She whispered, closing her eyes just like you and placing her lips against yours in a tense, soft, pure and innocent kiss, but a very significant one. “I love you…”

Those three words came out of her mouth, and that kiss confirmed to you that they were not false, they were authentic. What seemed impossible to you was happening. She had feelings for you, you had feelings for her. That horrible tension of the last few months disappeared with another kiss, a deeper one, full of mixed feelings, of silent confessions, of love, a love that came out of desperation, but that Marilyn thought you would leave forever, that you didn't love her, that you didn't care.

“Me too...” You whispered between kisses. “I, I don't want to leave you... Shit, I'm stupid...” You said shaking your head.

“You're not...” She said, gently pushing you against the floor while her kisses said everything that words couldn't.

You let yourself go. It was what you had been thinking for so long, even without being aware of it, still fighting against those feelings.

Her body felt too good against yours, warm, comfortable. A place you didn't want to leave, a heat you couldn't survive without.

Marilyn climbed on top of you, continuing to caress you, worshiping your entire body. At that moment the words were absurd, only the facts, the caresses, the gasps, were capable of transmitting everything that you kept silent for so long, and everything that she seemed to want to repress. An uncontrollable desire, a love that appeared by chance.

The cold of the night no longer mattered. Your clothes were disappearing at the same time as hers. You both looked at each other, as if discovering a treasure, caressing your bare skin as if it were fragile, something that could break. And there was still no room for doubt, to think about what your place in the world would be. At that moment that place was under her, it was being covered by her kisses, agitated by the soft movement of her hips.

“You're so beautiful...” She whispered to you, running a hand over your chest. Now you were aware, you could enjoy that sensation and you could do the same, recording in your mind every new corner of her body, looking at her legs, her chest, her back.

The heat was unbearable, but she had the remedy. Kisses on your neck, on your chest, on your belly. Kisses that didn't seem to want to stop, kisses that didn't seem to feel guilty because you were young, because you were an awkward college student.

Your body was something sacred, a divinity of which Marilyn was the only one faithful, the only one who could taste it, kiss it, lick it, suck it.

Your moans only made the steam escape from your mouth, making you see that the heat was an illusion, that your moans were hot and the night was cold.

“Marilyn...” You moaned, stroking her hair as she settled between your legs, enjoying you, making you enjoy her.

She climbed up to your mouth and the hungry, anxious kisses returned. Her hands went up and down, leaving not a piece of skin to touch, to scratch, to possess. Her fingers were skillful, making you able to see the stars without leaving the tent, making you think about how beautiful it was to live, to feel love, a real one, not a passing one, one that was really love, not nights in clubs kissing girls, strangers, letting you be taken by them in a disgusting bathroom. This was love, not sex, just love, just caresses, just you and Marilyn.

Your body trembled, shook to the rhythm of your moans, her moans. Her eyes were fixed on yours, carefully observing each of your expressions. You fought to keep them open, to see how the woman you loved made love to you in that small space, how nothing mattered, how any place was good to love if it was with her.

You screamed, forgetting your absurd theories about the dangers of the forest, wanting to let everyone who passed by know that you were happy, that your orgasm wasn't just that, it was a cry of love, one that had been wanting to come out of your dreams for a long time.

The kisses returned, the hugs made you walk around the tent. Your bodies were sweating, your hips were dancing together an erotic dance, whose music was moans and gasps.

Now she was your goddess, you had her under you, you kissed her body, you smiled when you saw that she was not a shy woman, that she was fiery, passionate. You ran your fingers over the small tattoo she had, trying to make her feel loved, like you had felt before.

It was unbearable for her, she shook and begged you to kiss her, for your hands to go beyond your soft caresses. You were never a naughty girl, you were obedient, complacent, and when your hand slipped between her legs, she felt comfortable.

Feeling its heat around your mouth was a sensation that surpassed that damn pole. Her moans were high-pitched, her hands mischievous, grabbing your hair, going crazy when your lips landed on that spot.

You didn't want to let her legs go, you wanted to sink into her, make her see that you loved her, that you wanted to adore her in the same way that she did with you.

Marilyn was restless, anxious but patient, letting you move slowly inside her, making her feel every inch of skin that your fingers ran over. Your eyes looked at her, and hers returned yours, while your free hand intertwined her fingers with hers.

It was a matter of time before her body moved quickly, erratically. Your caresses and moans were too much for her. Her walls squeezed your fingers, preventing them from leaving her, preventing you from stopping loving her. Marilyn arched her back, screaming almost as loud as you. Her hand returned to your hair, tugging it violently, involuntarily.

You smiled and returned to her lips, letting her nails scratch your back as your legs intertwined.

“(Y/N)...” She said, looking at you dazed, smiling, as if she herself had fallen into those flowers and felt light, extremely relaxed.

“Mari...” You said, lying on her chest while her arms wrapped around your back. There were no longer scratches or hair pulling, just a tender hug, two sweaty bodies hugging each other in that tent, with the only sound of the stream in the background.

“I... Tomorrow we will return to Jericho. It, it hurts, but I want you to do what makes you happy, (Y/N).”

You looked at her, biting your lip. It was true that those flowers had given you a bad experience, but you couldn't just give up, not at that moment, you could never do it again.

“No, Marilyn... I... I want to stay here,” you said, resting your head on her chest, closing your eyes for having been so stupid and not having thought things through calmly.

“Is what you want? Don't do it just for me...” She whispered softly, brushing your hair away from your face. “I just wanted you to know how much I love you. I didn't want you to just leave. But it is your decision. I promise not to interfere.”

“Interfere, damn it,” you said sharply, raising your head. She sat up a little and looked at you strangely. “Ask me to stay, please…”

She smiled, caressing your cheek. She wasn't stupid, she knew that you needed her to tell you again, to remind you why it was worth making an effort, giving plants a second chance.

“Stay, please...” She said softly, kissing you tenderly on your lips. “I can't imagine living without you.”

“I'll stay, Marilyn. I will always stay with you,” you said with a smile, snuggling into her chest again.

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot #fluff

[zackcrazyvalentine]

okay first of all, this event idea is really cool and actually kind of genius???

second of all, may i please request fluffy platonic headcanons for these boys with an MC-coded reader? like, just the soft/sweet things that come with being their friend please

Aha~ thank you!! Also, what a wonderful loading screen this is! Jamil getting annoyed and cornered by the Octavinelle trio dfklsk

Let's see!

~ Sweet friendship headcanons ~

With: Jade Leech, Azul Ashengrotto, Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper, and MC-coded reader (used "you" pronouns, hope you don't mind)

-- --

🐬 Jade Leech 💜

Jade will sometimes gift wild flowers and pressed plants to the Ramshackle prefect, claiming the flora reminded him of them

Please ask him first if they're safe. His smirk will give the answer you need

From his birthday card, we learned Jade sketches when out in hikes. He sometimes gifts a particular drawing to you. It brings a smile to his face when he sees his sketches displayed on the walls of your room in Ramshackle

Be prepared for some info dumps when you ask what the particular plant/fungi in the drawing is

Jade goes into a subtle fanboy mode when you have genuine curiosity about the things he's seen on hikes

There's still things he doesn't know about being human Be patient when he asks about the most mundane activities and "rituals", he's sincerely confused and hopes someone can guide him through without judgement

Just as how he's curious about land, he's curious about your world He sneakily gets information out of you to sate his curiosity. It isn't until later when you bring up something about your world that you realize just how much you've told him, and how he remembers it all

Yes, you will become subject to his experimental mushroom cooking. Not something to boast about, but he takes advantage of your frugal life to feed you his dubious mushrooms because he knows you and Grim wouldn't say no to a free meal

He's open to tell you about life under water and all that. Though he's less open about his childhood than Floyd

If you ever need someone to protect you or escort you back to Ramshackle late at night, Jade's your guy

One of the first people to jump in and take care of you when you fall ill and can barely move/remain awake. His affection comes in acts of service, so this is the prime time for Jade to show he cares for you

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 💜

Azul helps you study for any problematic subjects you encounter. He acts like he's doing it to be follow the merciful Sea Witch's example, but in reality he does it just 'cuz ('cuz he wants to be seen as the reliable upperclassman asdfg). His one condition is for the study session to be one-on-one, no pesky friends or flame-spewing cats following behind you to peek at his exceptional notes

Ashengrotto will give you a meal on the house in the Lounge once in a while, meals for you and Grim both

He gets very surprised whenever you throw any sort of compliment his way. Tries to reciprocate, but he gets too flustered, it's all chopped up due to stuttering

When concentrating in work, you can hear him hum jazzy melodies

Silence in the presence of Azul is comforting, for you and for him. He rarely gets quiet time with how busy he is with responsibilities, and Grim + Ghosts can get noisy. Moments where you can hide away in his office in quiet calm are cherished

He lends you his coat when you get cold while visiting the Lounge

You once showed him an old coin you found in Ramshackle, his collector instincts immediately flared up and he told you aaaall about it

Of course, before you knew better, he took a couple of those ancient coins for his collection. Now, Azul is your assessor, he tells you a rough estimate of its value and you go off to sell them when you can. He even buys some of them

You have joined him and Idia in their club activities and.... You never saw a more competitive scene than the game of (twst's equivalent of) Clue you just witnessed. There was no other option but become just as competitive yourself~

🦈 Floyd Leech 💜

Squeezing and leaning his weight on you have become his go-to ways of greeting you

You're welcomed to greet him the same way. Finds your squeezes (hugs) amusing

That silly nickname of "shrimpy" has become comforting for you and him. Floyd smiles whenever he remembers you and your nickname, and you can't help but smile a little at his call of "little shrimp". A unique nickname only he can use

OH, HE TOTALLY GASPED, POINTED, AND SAID "CANNIBALISM!!" AFTER SEEING YOU DEVOUR SOME FRIED SHRIMP He just wanted to be dramatic lol

I headcanon him owning sea creature plushies. He knows you like cuddling up to an eel plush he has, so he always leaves it available and easy to spot in his side of the room whenever you visit

Not a lot of people have free access to his snack stash in his bedroom, but you're free to grab some if you want

Don't tell Azul, but Floyd's constantly sneaking you drinks and little desserts from the Lounge

Whenever you catch him in a mood, all you have to do is drag him out to a patch of grass and have him lay down beside you to cloud watch. Works every time. Don't even need to talk through it, but you sometimes encourage him to in case there's something bothering him

You've had to scold him more than a handful of times about practicing his basketball throws on Ramshackle's very fragile walls

When he's missing you/wants to chat without typing words, he sends gifs of swimming shrimp (or eels). When he's mad at you, he sends pictures and gifs of shrimp being cooked or eaten

Sticker chats are common between you

🐍 Jamil Viper ❤

Whenever he wants to invite you to hang out in Scarabia, he does it with extreme secrecy so Kalim doesn't get word and doesn't interfere with his plans

When he notices you're a little blue, or has heard Grim complain too much about being hungry, Jamil will show up at your doorstep with warm food. "We had some leftovers from the party Kalim threw recently." He says, like he didn't sneak into the kitchen after hours to prepare this fresh, just for you.

That or he shows up with the needed ingredients to teach you how to cook an affordable, tasty meal with them

It's due to these cooking lessons why you have a wonderful selection of spices and herbs for seasoning any dish with, for an extra pop of flavor!

When you're both alone and he catches you singing a currently popular tune, he will join in

Has tried to teach you some dance moves, breakdance and traditional dances from his hometown (if you succeed on learning them, I leave it up to you)

You tease him with a bag of dates from time to time

Joking and freely ranting with Jamil is a wonderful activity. He really is a great friend when you get to know him and let him be himself

You will never let him live down how he yelled so loud when a resident Ramshackle bug crawled over his hand. It took a complete month to convince him that it was okay inside the dorm now

You notice how he misses VDC practice, so you decide to ask him to film some trendy Magicam dances with you It's lots of fun and serves as an outlet for Jamil to let out frustrations. Plus, the small audience you've managed to gather is perfect to feed Viper's need for praise and attention, to be in the spotlight

The bloopers of your filming are your favorite part. You've made a couple of stickers from the weird faces and dumb stuff you said

-- --

Hope you enjoyed~!

Perhaps they aren't too sweet, but still, hope it was fun to read

#loading screen headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #jamil viper #zack writes

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 2

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: heavy/shameless flirting, provocative actions, dirty talk, aggressive-ish sexual advances, female!reader

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous →Part 1

Next →Part 3

“Too old for you, sweetheart.” 

Those words repeated in your head over and over again, pissing you off more than they probably should have. Even though Keishin had yet to explicitly tell you how old he was, you were already well aware that he was probably a good four or five years older than you at least. Him pointing out that simple fact was not what was grinding your gears—it was the way he had said it.

With that devilish smirk on his face, he had practically said it as if he were taunting you with it. The way he had shut down your question was like he was holding his superiority over you; he might as well have just laughed in your face and said, “You couldn’t have me even if you wanted to.”

It was awfully bold of him to assume something like that with his tone of voice, because you didn’t even want him . . . well, back then you hadn’t wanted him. Now was a different story, and even though you knew it probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, the blatant ‘you can’t do it’ that screamed at you in his dark brown eyes was more than enough to make you change your perspective. 

So now your mission was to wrap Ukai Keishin around your finger just to prove that you could. 

At first, you hadn’t been sure how to go about accomplishing said mission because Keishin was rarely at the shop at all, which was how you landed the job in the first place—to take over for him. So, you really only had a short window at the beginning of the day when he was leaving and in the evening when he was coming home, but he was usually in too much of a rush or too exhausted to even look in your direction, let alone give you the time of day to make him fall for you.

Nevertheless, you used the few minutes you were graced with each day to the fullest. 

Leaning against the counter, your eyes kept flickering to the clock above the counter and to the door that led to the back room and, in turn, the stairs up to Keishin’s apartment. After working at the store for a few weeks by now, you had come to learn Mrs. Sakanoshita’s and Keishin’s schedules pretty well and knew that Keishin was due to come down the stairs, grumbling about how he was running late, any second now.

Right then, almost as if on cue, you heard heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs and got ready for your morning routine. When the door opened and Keishin emerged with a granola bar stuffed in his mouth and a cup of coffee in hand, you were quick to greet him.

“Good morning.” You smiled as you perked up. 

“Goog morngnan,” his speech was mumbled over the entire granola bar in his mouth, but you caught the gist anyway. He barely paused to acknowledge your presence, his mind completely focused on getting out the door.

A smirk playing at the corners of your mouth, you leaned over the counter, cleavage on full display from your tank top and apron, which hung low on you, and gently grabbed his arm. “Will you be back later tonight or should I wait for you before locking up?” you asked.

Keishin just rolled his eyes at you. You asked him this every day, and every day he gave you the same answer. “Just leave when you’re done. I have keys to the store . . . just like I did yesterday . . . and the day before that.”

“Just checking.” You let go of him, but not before you let your fingertips ghost over his forearm. “Have a good day, Keishin.”

“Yeah, you too.” He never returned the sentiment by using your name as well, but you still persisted, hoping that he might change his mind one day. 

As he turned his back to you and headed out the door, you watched him leave. Although men who pretty much wore track suits exclusively were not usually your type, there was just something about the way Keishin’s ass looked in track pants that did it for you. As you wondered whether he was as nicely sculpted everywhere else—and whether it came from volleyball or if he worked out sometimes in secret—he had disappeared from sight. 

With your short-lived window of opportunity having come and gone, resulting in the same pathetic outcome as always, you sighed heavily and got back to work. As much as ogling the boss’ son was entertaining, you still wanted to keep your job because you did really like it, so you still had to actually get the job done. 

Like every other day, you spend your shift helping out customers, manning the front counter, and cleaning when cleaning needed to be done. The days were usually more or less the same, so by now you could predict when a heavy customer flow would hit—like around lunchtime and after work/school hours—and when the store would be dead, giving you time to take a break, eat some lunch, and get some chores done. 

Sometimes the days went by in the blink of an eye and sometimes they dragged on painfully slowly. Today was the former, probably because it was a Friday and the store tended to see a higher than normal customer rush in the afternoon when people stopped by on their way home to grab snacks and drinks for the weekend. 

Today, however, ended up being unusually busy, even for a Friday, and before you knew it, it was almost time for your shift to end and you still had quite a bit of shelves to restock. You were a little bummed about having to stay late on a Friday night, but you knew that if you went home you would just end up eating some leftovers in the fridge, taking a shower, and lying in bed, scrolling on your phone, until you passed out. Unfortunately, you didn’t have any exciting plans for the evening, so it wasn’t a hard decision to choose to stay later to get the work done instead of having to come in earlier on Saturday morning. 

With the radio playing in the background, like it always was in the evenings when the customer flow was practically nonexistent, you locked the front doors and worked through box after box, restocking the shelves and doing some of the remaining cleaning that you hadn’t been able to get done during the day.

Half an hour or so later, you heard a slight commotion from the front doors and instinctively looked up at the clock, noting the time. It was well past closing time by now, but this also wouldn’t be the first time you would have needed to deal with someone who couldn’t tell time and send them on their way empty-handed. 

Just as you stood up from where you were kneeling in front of one of the back shelves, the familiar sound of the front doors sliding open filled the store. Confused and a little on-edge, you approached the noise. Ever since your first day, you refused to be snuck up on again and always had your ears sharp and listening for people. 

Rounding the shelf, you spotted a figure with its back turned to you. However, you recognized that ass and poorly dyed blonde hair instantly and calmed down. It was only Keishin.

“You’re back late,” you commented. Sure, he always reminded you that he had a set of keys for the store, but he had never returned after you had locked up and actually had to use them before. 

When Keishin turned around after locking the doors behind himself, you noticed he was a little wobbly on his feet and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, so that’s why you’re late.” You stood back and gave him a wide birth as he slowly stumbled over to the counter and sat down on the stool behind it. 

Keishin narrowed his brown brows at you. “What’s that mean?” he inquired, his speech completely unaffected despite the fact that he was moving like he was tipsy, which he seemed to be.

“Oh, nothing.” You shrugged, brushing off his inquiry. “At least one of us had a good night.”

“Mmm . . . very good,” he sighed before folding his arms on the counter top and resting his head on them. 

You watched him for a minute or so, watching his back for rising and falling to prove he was still breathing when he went silent and still. “You should probably go to bed,” you told him, afraid he might pass out right there on the counter, leaving you to deal with his unconscious body. 

“Yeah . . .” He paused for a while before continuing. “Just rest here for a little bit first.”

“Okay.” You nodded slowly before turning back toward the shelves you had been stocking. “Well, I’ve still got some stuff to finish up so just call if you need anything.”

“Kay.”

Normally, you would be using this time to try to seduce him some more in whatever subtle way you could think of, but since he was pretty drunk, you decided against it for tonight. Besides, you were a little too exhausted to try anything anyway. Maybe this had all worked out for the best; a night off to just be in the same room as him and maybe you could gather some information to aid your pursuit that would resume the following day.

As the radio continued to play softly throughout the store and Keishin rested on the counter top, you quickly finished up stocking the shelves, noting that you would need to do some sweeping the next morning due to how dusty the tile was in the back corner. 

Standing up, you dusted off your hands and began patting your black pants off as you strolled back to the front. Surprisingly, Keishin was sitting up now, leaning back against the wall and typing something on his phone. In about twenty minutes, he seemed to have sobered up quite a bit.

“Damn, you bounce back fast,” you said, eyeing him and the nimble movements of his fingers while he typed. When he didn’t respond at first, you just went back to dusting off your pants.

“You missed a spot,” he finally spoke, his fingers ceasing movement while his eyes flickered over his phone at you.

Trying to inspect the back of your pants and failing miserably, you huffed. “Where?” You patted a few more spots, starting to wonder if you had actually missed a spot or if he was just messing with you.

“No, not there. On the side-” He tried to point out the spot he meant, but when you kept turning and twisting, it was impossible for him to pinpoint the area for you. “Oh, for fuck sake.” He set his phone down, stood up, and approached you. 

Right as he extended his hand to wipe away the smudge of dust on the side of your thigh, you turned again and he ended up brushed his hand across your ass. You both froze immediately, and when you looked up at him, you noticed a light dusting of pink across his cheeks.

Out of all the fruitless plans and days you had spent trying to get any reaction out of him, in the end, all it had taken was a few drinks on his part, an accidental encounter, and a misunderstanding to see any sort of progress.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered slightly, but you knew it wasn’t from the alcohol . . . or, at least, it wasn’t just from the alcohol. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, shrugging it off right away. It really wasn’t that big of a deal and you were slightly surprised to see such a reaction from him after something as trivial as an accidental butt touch. 

“I-I was trying to brush your thigh but you turned and then-”

You giggled. “Really, it’s okay.” You found his embarrassment endearing. “I think I’ll survive.”

“It’s not about that.” He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Workplace harassment is taken pretty seriously these days. Not to mention . . . sexual harassment.”

This time your giggle turned into a full blown belly laugh. “Do you honestly think I’m going to report you for an accident like that?” you questioned. “Besides, who am I going to report you to? You and your mom own this place, right?”

Furrowing his brows, Keishin seemed pretty disgruntled about what had happened. “You’re sure you’re not upset about it?”

“You’re really bent out of shape over this, aren’t you?” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, how about we make it even?”

“What are you-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you had reached around and gently planted your hand on his ass. It took every ounce of self restraint you possessed not to give it a squeeze and test to see if it truly felt as great as it looked, but in the end you just left it at a light touch like he had done to you.

“Now we’re even,” you told him softly. “You gonna be okay now?”

Just like before, there was a faint blush on Keishin’s cheeks. But this time, in addition to the pink hue, there was a hungry look in his eyes, and you truly couldn’t tell if he was actually hungry after drinking so much or if he was hungry for something else . . . for you.

The two of you fell into silence for a few moments, breathing heavy and eyes locked. The way he was staring at you, you were ready for him to lunge at you at any second, but he never did. His hand twitched slightly by his side and his tongue ran over his bottom lip, but he never stepped closer.

Since this seemed like your best chance, you were forced to make the first move. If he didn’t want this, you would stop right away . . . but you were half convinced he did want this.

“You work so much . . . has it been a while since someone has touched you like this?” you asked in a hushed whisper, slowly removing your hand from his behind and moving your fingers to toy with the hem of his shirt. 

Keishin, whose face and neck were bright red at this point, didn’t answer. Instead, he swallowed hard and wrapped his hands around your arms. Then, he stepped backward, sat back down on the stool, and pulled you to stand between his legs. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” Your hands began travelling up under his shirt, nails lightly scratching over his lower stomach. “Say the word and I can make you feel good.”

Keishin’s lips parted and it looked like he was seconds away from practically begging for it, but before he did, something flashed in his eyes and he came to his senses. Running his hands down your arms, he snatched your wrists, pulled your hands out from under his shirt, and held you at arms-length. 

“I know that you think this is all fun and games, sweetheart, but you’re seriously biting off more than you can chew here,” he warned, eyes dark and serious.

You were taken aback. How had he done a 180 so quickly?  “How do you know how much I can fit in my mouth?” you teased, choosing your words carefully. “You haven’t even let me show you yet.”

He just shook his head. “26.”

You cocked a brow, unsure if you had heard him correctly or not. “What?”

“You asked me how old I was,” he elaborated. “I’m 26. You’re 18. That’s an eight year age gap. Eight years is a lot when you’re 18.”

You felt your blood begin to boil in your veins. “Why does everyone think they know what I can and cannot handle?”

“Why are you so adamant on refusing to acknowledge that people older than you might have some useful advice?” he said plainly. “I’ve been 18 before. I know what it’s like to feel like no one is taking you seriously, but making stupid choices in order to pass as independent is not the way to go about rectifying that situation”

Groaning in frustration, you pulled your hands out of his grasp. “I’m not trying to ‘pass as independent’. I am independent! I can make my own decisions and if I want to have meaningless sex with a 26-year-old I should be able to do that!”

“Why is this the hill you want to die on?” he inquired.

“Because it’s the only hill I have!” 

Untying your apron from around your waist, you yanked it over your head and threw it harshly onto the counter. After grabbing your belongings from the back room, you headed for the door, ready to be as far away from Keishin and the store as possible.

“Just my luck that I stumble across the only morally-responsible 26-year-old burnout in the fucking world,” you spat at him on your way past him to the front door. “I’m going home.”

“Okay, goodnight,” Keishin responded calmly, definitely completely sober by this point. He watched as you struggled with unlocking the front doors, waiting a reasonable about of time before offering his help. “You have to turn it the other way.”

Taking his advice without a word in response, you shot a glare at him over your shoulder as you pushed the doors open. You wanted to hurl one last insult his way, but by then, you were too emotionally exhausted and mentally flustered to think of anything appropriate . . . and if you were being honest with yourself, his words were sinking too deep for your liking and you needed to be away from him before you did something truly horrible . . .

. . . like admitting he might be right. 

#haikyuu #lostinthewiind #haikyuu!! #ukai keishin #ukai keishin x reader #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine #fluff #haikyuu smut #sexy time #keishin #ukai #piss off your parents #part 2

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is. 

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative. 

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency. 

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him. 

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine. 

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

#Batman #red hood #batman: urban legends #nice art #shit story #or at least shit characterization #jason todd deserves better #this response got long and I didn't edit it #please forgive any errors #and/or unclear spots #spoilers

[mypoisonedvine]

Home for the Holidays | Robert Pronge (aka Mr. Freezy) x reader

summary: robert is tired of pretending to be normal, he’s tired of the shitty holiday known as christmas and he’s really fucking tired of watching his adorable, innocent next door neighbor without getting a real taste.  luckily, he has a plan to solve all three of these things.

word count: a bit over 5k

warnings: smut (noncon, vaginal and anal), gunplay, bondage, stalking, kidnapping, slight-to-medium breeding kink, innocent!reader, lots of degradation, blood mention, pain kink, spitting, implied age gap (??? kinda), cringy and disturbing dirty talk, maaaaybe the darkest thing I’ve ever written… proceed with extreme caution

Robert hated the holidays.  The fact that it was too cold to sell ice cream was a factor, sure, but he didn’t like anything else about them either— the cheesy music, the stupid advertisements on TV, the gaudy decorations everywhere… he wasn’t sure if there was anything he liked about this time of year.  Getting gifts would be nice if he actually had any friends or family to do that with.  Giving gifts sounded like too much fucking work anyway.  He was sick and tired of this stupid holiday and the way it started sooner every year, too.  

This year, when he heard Jingle Bell Rock on the radio for the first time of the season, something snapped.  He wasn’t going to just sit idly by and let the holidays come and go.  He wasn’t going to avoid and half-tolerate all the dreaded ‘cheer’ and ‘spirit’ like he had for the past few years.  No no, this year was going to be different.

This year, he was going to get a Christmas present for himself: you.

He’d been watching you for a long time, since the day you moved in next door.  It wasn’t often that a young woman lived alone around here, and for good reason.  Still, you had this air of blissful ignorance about you— you never caught him spying on you, for one, and when he was spying you were always off in your own little world, listening to your records, daydreaming about god-knows-what.  He wished he could know, because he figured it was something innocent and wholesome.  

You weren’t all innocent and wholesome, though.  He’d seen you doing the things you did when you were totally alone (or at least, you thought you were), late at night, cuddled up under the covers…

He wanted to see more, though.  He wanted to see everything.  And he was tired of waiting.

He was on his porch when you came home, and he waved; you waved back, your hands obscured by big fuzzy mittens.  Damn did he miss the summers, when you would wear tank tops and short shorts and wash your car in the sunlight.  Now you were all bundled up in coats and scarves, and even though you looked sort of adorable like this, he missed that perfect body he knew you were hiding under there.  

You were bringing groceries in from the car, and he could see you had a few bags in the backseat.  “That’s a lot to carry, lemme help you,” he offered as he jumped up from his seat and walked towards you.

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” you dismissed, but you started to stumble and he had to catch you so you wouldn’t fall and drop your stuff.  “Thanks,” you mumbled awkwardly as you caught your footing— you felt so good in his arms he could barely stand it.  

“What is all this?” he asked as he glanced into the bags.

“Oh, uh, just Christmas stuff,” you explained.  He furrowed his brow as he saw you had bought enough food to feed a whole family.  

“Your folks comin’ into town or something?” he pressed, pulling one of the paper bags open to see inside.  “Or are you hosting a party I didn’t get invited to?”

“Uh, neither,” you laughed, “my family doesn’t… no, they’re not coming.  And there’s no party.  I just love cooking Christmas food and I thought, why not?  I mean, I’ll freeze whatever I can’t finish and have meals for the next month…”

“So you’re gonna make this whole ham just for yourself?” he clarified, admiring your ambition.

“Yep!” you grinned.  “I know it’s stupid, but I just love Christmas and I don’t think I need to justify celebrating it to a grinch like you.”

“A grinch?  Says who?”

“Freezy, you’re the only house on the block that hasn’t put up lights yet,” you smirked.  “It’s sort of obvious you don’t like this time of year.”

“Are you kidding?  I love Christmas!  I’m just subtle about it, that’s all,” he decided sternly.

“Really?  Are you going to see anyone for the holidays then?” you pressed.

“Uh, no, I’m sort of an… orphan, I guess you could say.  No parents or siblings or anything like that.”

“No girlfriend?” you grinned, elbowing him playfully.  

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he laughed, “I just know a few women who would be really mad if they heard me say that.”

“You’re such a dog,” you rolled your eyes.  “Will you help me carry these in or not?”

He sighed as he picked up two bags and carried them up to your porch, pushing the door open with his back to set them on your counters.  He’d been inside your place a few times— mostly with you there, a few times when you weren’t— and he noticed how much you’d changed in the spirit of the season: an enormous, real pine covered in lights and ribbons; decorative ceramic figures all over the place including Santa, elves, reindeer, and even a nativity on the dining table; stockings on the mantle, god knows who those were even for. 

You had literally decked your halls with boughs of holly.  

“Damn, woman, you went all out!” he observed with wide eyes.

“Well, I thought it would be nice,” you smiled, although it was a somber smile, “you know, Christmas like it used to be…” you trailed off as your gaze became distant.  You snapped back to reality with a little sigh, shaking it off and heading back to the car for another load of bags.  He understood that emptiness he saw in your eyes, it was all he felt anymore.  Maybe you could change that for him; maybe he could change that for you.

Aw, who was he kidding?  He didn’t care about that.  He just wanted to figure out what you were hiding underneath those puffy winter clothes.  If the smell of your stolen panties was anything to go by, it was going to be worth the wait.

//

Christmas Eve was just as boring and cold as any other day, except that it was filled with a riveting anticipation.  That was probably true for most people, but for Robert it was for something much more exciting than presents under the tree.  

Nightfall came early, it being winter and all, so it was already pitch dark outside when it was just about time for him to go over for dinner.  He considered smashing a window to get in, but then you might call the cops before he had time to explain, so he decided the easier method was just to knock on the front door.  He didn’t really care who saw at this point— besides, who’d be staring out their window to spy on their neighbors the night before Christmas?  Aside from Robert, that is.

“Oh!” you gasped when you answered the door.  The dark red turtleneck looked even better on you up close, like you’d jumped right out of a Norman Rockwell postcard— or a festive pin-up.  He didn’t wait for your approval before stepping in and shutting the door behind him, relishing the adorable look you wore as you stared up at him with the perfect mix of confusion and concern.

“I know you didn’t invite me,” he smirked, “but I figure two people alone on Christmas ought to be together, don’t you think?”

“Robert, I—”

He pulled his gun out from his belt, watching you freeze as he pointed it at you.

“I think you should start making dinner, sweetheart,” he instructed darkly.  You nodded quickly, walking to the kitchen as he followed you closely.  “What are you making?”

“H-ham,” you stuttered nervously as you turned on the stove before slipping on a cute little apron with white lace around the edges.  “With green bean casserole, and some gingerbread for dessert.”

“Sounds delicious,” he grinned, taking a seat at the bar and keeping his gun pointed towards you.  

Your hands were shaking as you tried to chop the ingredients, and he tutted a little in sympathy.  “Don’t be scared, honey, ‘m not gonna hurt ya.  It’s gonna be a great Christmas— just like the way it used to be, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you shivered, lip quivering, “I… I wish you just would’ve asked if you could have some dinner, Robert, I would’ve happily had you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have me either way.  Up to you if you wanna be happy about it.”

He laughed as he watched your eyes start to water, a meek little sniffle 

“Aw, don’t cry, pretty baby,” he cooed, “it’ll make me wanna skip right to the good stuff.  But, let’s just have dinner first.”

You stayed quiet after that, cooking in silence as he unabashedly undressed you with his eyes.  You looked like a perfect little housewife in that apron; he wanted to see you wearing just that, so he could bend you over the counter and— 

Damn, he was already hard, just like that.  You’d always had such an effect on him.

He went ahead and took a seat at the table once you were nearly done with the meal, leaning back to let you drape the fancy napkin over his lap (and smirking when you gasped a bit, obviously noticing the bulge in his jeans).

“I hope you like it,” you offered weakly as you set his plate in front of him.

“I’m sure you do,” he grinned, picking up his fork.  “You won’t like what’s gonna happen if I don’t.”

You just stood beside him for a moment as he took the first bite, smiling weakly when he hummed in content at the taste.  “Aren’t ya gonna eat?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I’m not hungry,” you explained quickly.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “it’s good.  You’re quite the little chef, aren’t ya?”

“Um, I suppose…” you deflected awkwardly.

“Learn to take a compliment,” he hissed, “say ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you,” you replied dutifully.  

“That’s better,” he announced firmly, shovelling the last bite of casserole into his mouth before working on the slices of ham.  Your ability to follow instructions was a good sign for how tonight was going to go— apparently for all your naivete, you still had a self-preservation instinct.  He couldn’t wait to exploit it.

He continued his meal in silence, delighting in the way your eyes watered and your lip quivered.  “Alright, sweetie, dinner’s over,” he announced when he was finished.  “Time for dessert.”

You shivered slightly as he stood up and approached you.  “You want gingerbread?” you asked innocently.  He frowned and shook his head, watching you start to cry again as he roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer.  

“I had something even sweeter in mind,” he informed you with a low growl, taking a big whiff of your scent— that same shampoo smell he was used to by now, mixed in with the new perfume you’d gotten a few weeks ago along with the warm, spicy smells of Christmas.  “Been waitin’ so long for this,” he groaned lowly as he leaned down to stare right into your fear-widened eyes.

“N-no, please,” you whimpered, weakly attempting to twist out of his grip, “you wouldn’t—”

“I would,” he disagreed as he turned his gun backwards, whipping you across the head with the handle.  He caught you before you collapsed, and hoped you wouldn’t be hurting too much when you woke up.  But he would deal with that then.  Right now, he had a present to wrap.

//

There was a radiating ache in your skull.  You felt that first as you groggily opened your eyes.  The next thing you noticed was that you weren’t in your bed.  Looking around, you couldn’t see well because the only light was from your Christmas tree, but you could see that you were naked and bound with ropes.  Oddly enough, on top of the ropes was thick red ribbon, gathered in a big bow right at your chest.

What the fuck is going on? you were about to ask yourself, but then it all became clear.

The shadows shifted, and your neighbor emerged from them.  You struggled against the ropes as you remembered everything, realizing what was happening.  Of course you had always thought he was a bit creepy (who didn’t?) but you were nice to him and he was nice to you.  How could you have known he was this disturbed?  

“That’s my favorite part,” he purred as he stooped down to be eye-level with you.  “The moment when they realize what’s going to happen.  You were so peaceful just a moment ago, knocked out and without a care in the world, and now you’re fighting for your life.”

You whimpered into the gag as he smiled at you, running his hands over your skin.

“I mean, not fighting very well, but fighting.”

You tried to kick him as he stepped closer but the ropes made it impossible.

“I think it’s time to open my present, hm?” he grinned.  You shook your head but he ignored you, slowly pushing your legs apart and growling a little when he saw your exposed pussy, ripe for the taking.  “Look at that, you’re wet,” he laughed.  You wrenched your eyes shut, refusing to believe this was happening.  “Don’t be embarrassed, that happens a lot.  Although I’ll admit, I don’t think any of them were ever this wet before…”

You jumped when his thumb started to rub your clit, the pressure much too intense and unexpected.  He laughed at your struggle, and you could feel your walls throbbing in response to the stimulation.

“I know I didn’t need to do all this to get you in bed,” he continued his taunting rant.  “I know you wanted me already— don’t think I didn’t notice you makin’ googly eyes at me like a dumb little schoolgirl.  If I’d’ve asked you out, I could’ve had you under me after a few drinks… but it’s better this way.  You probably would’ve made me wear a condom, would’ve made me be all gentle with ya, some wholesome missionary shit,” he laughed.  “I don’t have time for that crap.  It’s so much better with your body at my disposal, and you cryin’ those pretty tears.”

The shocks that shot up your spine from the way he was touching you made you feel like your body was betraying you.  How could this actually feel good?  How was it that the fear burning in your gut was actually adding to your pleasure and not nullifying it?

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he groaned as if he were reading your mind.  “I know you love it, little girl, don’t act so innocent.  I know you’re not the good girl everybody thinks you are.  You’ve been naughty this year, haven’t you?”

Even though logic told you not to play into his twisted game, you felt compelled to shake your head ‘no.’

“Don’t lie,” he warned, “I’ve seen you.  I’ve watched you play with this pretty pussy every fucking night.”

You couldn’t watch this any more, you couldn’t look at him while he did this to you.  Forcing your eyes shut, you tried to find a place in your mind to run away to.  Instead, he slapped you right on your clit and your eyes shot open as you whined.

“Keep looking,” he instructed.  “I want you to see it.  I want you to know that it’s me.  I want you to see what I’m about to put in you.”

He stepped back and hastily discarded his shirt, making quick work of his boots and trousers, too.  Then it was just his boxers, and you could see the outline of his erection already.  You hoped it wasn’t as big as it looked, but then he grinned as he pulled the fabric down and yep, it was— you tried to squirm away, uselessly.

“Aw, don’t be scared, baby,” he pouted, “I know it’s big, but with how wet you are I bet it’ll fit like a glove.  A really, really tight glove…”

He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear, rubbing his swollen head through your slick folds as you whined.  

“Gloves can tear,” he chuckled.  “Gloves can rip.”

Tears stained the ribbon of your gag as you tried to beg him not to, but it was too late— he was pushing forward and spearing you onto him.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he pushed all the way to the hilt, and your eyes rolled back as the stinging, burning pain shot up your spine.  “So fuckin’ tight, fuck, can’t believe I waited this long to get my hands on you.”

He pulled the gag down, smiling at you tenderly when you coughed out a cry of pain.  “Please,” you sobbed, “please stop…”

“No no, babygirl, I’m not gonna stop.  I wanna fill this slutty little cunt with my come.”

Renewed sobs shook your chest as your nails dug into your own palms, each thrust somehow going even deeper than the last, somehow hurting even more.

“Want my come, pretty girl?” he pressed, refusing to let you ignore him.  “Want me to shoot my load into this sweet pussy a’yours?”

“No,” you sobbed weakly, shaking your head, “no, no…” you trailed off, chanting it like a mantra as you felt like you might pass out.

“Aw, you’re not on the pill, are you?” he realized with a toothy grin.  “Never saw any empty packs in your trash.  Are you worried I’ll knock you up?”

“Please, please don’t,” you shivered.  There was nothing quite as demeaning as having no recourse but to beg even when you knew it would do nothing.  The only thing that came close was the knowledge that your orgasm wasn’t so far off— his cock was slamming right into your spot with every movement, his hips rubbing your swollen clit, and it was impossible to avoid the pleasure that was making your walls tighten around him.

“How could I not?” he countered.  “Fuck, you feel so good, how could I not breed this dripping, desperate cunt, hm?  There’s no way I’m pulling out now when you’re squeezin’ my dick so good like this.”

“Please,” you repeated, so quiet you couldn’t be sure he heard it at all.  You could hardly breathe with his weight on your chest, black static dancing at the edges of your peripheral vision.

“I’ll be honest— I hate kids,” he growled, “never wanted ‘em, but it does sound like a lot of fun to get you pregnant.  Would you like that, pretty baby?  Bein’ full of my kid?  I’d be so nice to watch you get big and know it was all my fault.  Think of it like a Christmas gift, from one neighbor to another.”

“Robert, please!” you cried, although it sounded a lot like you were begging him for more as opposed to begging him for mercy.  You weren’t sure how that happened, except that you could feel the coil in your gut tightening and tightening and tightening until it finally fucking snapped and you choked on nothing, your walls fluttering as a gush of wetness seeped out between your bodies.

“That’s it,” he groaned, “fuck, what a nasty little skank you are, Jesus… coming so hard from being tied up and abused by your neighbor, who knew you were a total freak?”

You couldn’t say anything, you couldn’t even think as hazy pleasure flooded your brain and you went limp in his oppressive grasp.  Exhaustedly, you slumped down and let him use you— all you could do now was hope he would finish soon.

“I mean, I knew,” he laughed, “but damn… you’re somethin’ else.”

He said it with pride in his voice, as your entire body burned with shame.  How had you already given in so quickly, accepted your fate and come harder than you ever had before?  It sort of made sense that this would be more intense than what you got from getting yourself off at night (and the thought that he’d been watching you made your stomach churn), but why was this so much better than the sweet, loving sex you’d had with your boyfriend way back when, before he’d run out on you?  Why was Robert, as disturbed as he was, the best you’d ever had?

“God, you’re so wet, I can fucking smell you,” he grunted through his teeth.  “You made such a pretty mess on my cock, babygirl.”

You could hear that he was right, you could feel the wetness that had dripped down to cover both of you— the wet slapping of his balls against your ass was disgusting, yet arousing, and you hated yourself for it.

“Shit, I’m close,” he moaned, “fuck yeah, just like that.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to until you realized you were arching your back, forcing his cock to hit your overstimulated spot directly.  It made jolts of electricity course through your veins, pleasure sizzling just beneath your skin.  

“Kiss me,” he instructed, and you were too far gone to disobey as you turned and captured his lips in a kiss, instantly accepting his tongue into your mouth.  It was sloppy and forceful and kinda gross and he tasted like Christmas dinner and cigarettes, but it made your walls tighten around him again anyways.  Something about his beard against your face made you moan a little, the sound lost into his mouth but unfortunately not unnoticed.  “Fuck, I know you love my cock so much,” he purred, pulling back only as much as he needed to to speak— he was so close that his lips brushed yours with every word, those dark eyes staring right into yours until you felt entirely helpless to his gaze.

“Please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had, you know that?” he praised, grinning as you bit down on your lip.  “Yeah, you love being my good girl, you love pleasin’ me, don’tcha?”

“I— I don’t—”

“Just nod your head, dumb baby,” he grunted coldly.  After a moment of hesitation, you nodded ever so slightly and he moaned above you.

“Fuck— gonna come,” he informed you breathlessly, “gonna fill up your wet fuckin’ hole, ‘m so close, ah fuck—”

The first pump of his cock painted your insides and you cringed as you tried not to moan at the feeling.  His come was hot and thick as it filled you, the faltering thrusts of his hips making your swollen walls flutter weakly.  It felt like it would go on forever— his weak groans in your ear, his thick cock pulsing inside you, your breathing quick and fast until it felt like you weren’t getting any air in your lungs at all.  It stopped, finally, as he sighed and relaxed a little bit.

“Goddamn,” he breathed as he pulled out of you, making you both wince.  Already you felt soreness radiating from your opening, and your face burned as he looked down between your legs.  “Look at that, what a perfect little pussy I just ruined.  It’s all stretched out and red and covered in my come,” he announced proudly.  “There’s a little blood, too, but you’ll be better in no time,” he assured with a smirk.  “Red and white— it’s sort of festive, don’t you think?”

You swallowed down the acid threatening to come up your throat— of course he was disturbed, but did he have to be so disgusting?

Again, it was like he read your mind as he grabbed your jaw and forced you to open your mouth, spitting onto your tongue before commanding you to swallow it.  Just when you thought you’d reached the limits of his depravity, he found some new way to up the ante.  What worried you most, though, was the fact that he’d already come and hadn’t left yet.  Deep down, you knew it wasn’t over yet, but you hadn’t accepted it consciously.

“Such a good slut for me,” he praised through his teeth, “I bet I can go again, fuck, you turn me on so much.”  Pulling back a bit and gripping his cock at the base, you squirmed a little as you looked at it.  “You see this?  I’m still hard.  You make me feel like a fuckin’ teenager again, I swear.”

“I can’t…” you sighed weakly, your voice sounding all cracked and whiny as it moved through your sore throat.  “I can’t take it again…”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’m gonna give your poor cunt a break… so I can rape this cute little ass.”

“No!” you yelped.  “Please!  Not there!”

He slapped you quickly before maneuvering two fingers to your other hole, teasing it as he laughed at your pre-emptive wince.

“It’s not gonna be so bad, baby, I’m gonna get you ready for it first, see?  I bet you’ll love it, nasty little thing like you.”

The first finger slipped in with a little pop as the tight ring of muscle shifted to accommodate him.  You’d never had anything go up that way before, and it was nothing like you could’ve imagined.  Hissing in a breath through your teeth, you whimpered as he added a second finger already.

“Just relax,” he instructed.  “Not that I don’t love you gripping my fingers with your tight little hole, but it’ll hurt less if you just let it happen.”

You willed your muscles not to tighten even as he twisted his fingers inside you, moving slowly until he was buried all the way to the knuckle and then finally pulling back.  The third was a bit more of a challenge as he opened you wider, your fists clenching at the sting of pain.  He let his come drip down from your pussy to use as lube, which was undoubtedly the filthiest thing you’d ever experienced.  You tried to keep quiet and relax as he told you to, but your fight was renewed slightly as he pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock with your hole.  

“Please,” you shivered, “don’t do this…”

“When are you gonna stop fucking fighting it, huh?  How stupid are you?  You’re tied up on the floor, I already made this pussy mine and you fucking loved it, how much more obvious could it be that I’m gonna do this?  You’re fucked.  It’s over.  Just accept it and I’ll make it good for you.”

“This can’t be good for me,” you hissed through your teeth.

“Well, in that case,” he groaned, interrupting himself as he roughly shoved his cock into your ass.  The air was punched from your lungs as pain burned white-hot through your body— it didn’t feel like his fingers had done much to prepare you at all, with the way this hurt.  As soon as you had the oxygen needed to do so, you were crying again, loud sobs echoing around your dark, empty living room.  “I was gonna be gentle,” he taunted you darkly, “but you had to run that mouth of yours.”

You tried to choke out an apology, but it was useless as he shoved his fingers into your mouth. 

“Suck on ‘em, show me what your mouth is good for,” he demanded as you closed your lips and swirled your tongue around his fingers.  “Fuck, that’s better.  See how good it is when you know your place?”

You couldn’t really process his words, though, as you spent all your energy on trying not to think about how his cock felt in your ass.  It was like being full in a completely different way than before, like being opened wider than you knew was possible.  He pulled his fingers from your mouth and you hated the moan that spilled out after them.

“Your cunt is getting wet,” he sing-songed mockingly as he leaned back and looked down at it.  “You love it up the ass, huh?  Dirty bitch.”

You shook your head in denial (even though you could feel that he was right, at least about the first part), but he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“Say it,” he grunted.  “Admit it, slut.  Admit you love getting fucked up the ass.”

“I…” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out even though you knew you needed to if you wanted to prevent him from hurting you worse.  “I love… getting fucked—” you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat— “up the ass.”

He backhanded you, hard, right across the face.  You cried and gasped all at once, choking on air from the force of the hit.  “WHORE!” he yelled right in your face.

You sobbed uncontrollably as he fucked you with more brutality than you’d known was possible.  “Please,” you tried to beg, even if you knew it was useless, but it was totally incomprehensible as you shook with the force of your cries, hissing in breaths through your teeth to try to cope with the pain.

“Thought it would take me a while to come again, but your ass feels so goddamn good— fuck, I’m close already.  Want me to fill up that tight little ass?”

You shook your head as you sobbed, shaking violently against the confines of the ropes.  Distantly, you heard the chimes of your clock in the other room.

“You hear that?” he whispered.  “That means it’s midnight— it’s Christmas.”

He leaned in until his hot breath tickled your ear and neck, making you wish you could turn your head away more than just a few centimeters.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he purred, just as you felt his cock swell and pulse inside you.  Your eyes rolled back as you wondered if you’d ever been so full before.

It was a haze after that as he gently untied you, getting his gun out again and keeping it trained on you as he followed you to the bathroom and forced you to shower.  Force was a bit of an overstatement, though, considering your desire to clean him off of you as much as possible.  “I’m not gonna tell anyone, Robert,” you tried to calm him down as you shivered under the stream of water that hadn’t quite warmed up yet.

“Yeah, well, just in case,” he insisted as he waved the gun pointed in your direction.  “Wash between your legs real good, push my come out.”

“Not gonna matter if you knocked me up like you said,” you reminded him.  “A paternity test will be evidence enough.”

“Shut up,” he grimaced.  “Can’t prove you didn’t want it, anyway.  We both know you did.”

You didn’t respond to that, opting to shower silently instead and wincing every time you tried to clean between your legs.  You were going to be sore for days, if not weeks.

“We both know I’m gonna be back for more real soon,” he added darkly.  “Too good for just one night.” 

#robert pronge x reader #mr. freezy x reader #robert pronge noncon #robert pronge smut #mr freezy smut #mr freezy noncon

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 rewatch thoughts

- mayfeld does hear when the droid talks to him the first time, you can see him pretending not to like he hopes he’ll just go away haha. I also guess he’s had a lot of time to think, picking apart pieces of the large fascist machine he used to be a part of and going over everything he clearly regrets 

- hahaha fennec and boba are in the back intensely keeping watch the entire time they’re on the prison planet. I suppose a good two thirds of this crew is uuuuh extremely wanted by the new republic lol

- the thing din’s voice does at the end when he says “but you still know your imperial clearances and protocols. don’t you.” is beyond fucking words, it sends a chill right through me

- 

1) din fiddling with that panel; I think he’s phenomenally nervous behind the helmet here, that’s the sort of keeping his hands busy he does when he’s anxious and 2) why the hell does boba have this many chairs instead of like space for cargo haha does he throw bounty hunter parties in here or what

- ngl boba correctly guessing at a glance what sort of ore they’re mining and informing everyone in his sardonic deadpan voice is Big Sexy  

I love how he and fennec are standing together when they’re both present in these opening scenes too, first at the very back when they’re keeping a lookout: 

and then in the foreground while they discuss the scan 

it’s a nice subtle way to get across that they already have a dynamic, they’re somewhat used to working together as a unit at this point. (she’s also looking over at him when she asks what they might be mining in there, like she’s mostly asking his opinion instead of opening it to the floor. they’re talking the mission out between them before din enters the conversation)

- the inside of slave 1 when the ship’s moving makes me a little bit motion sick, I really love seeing it but I hope we don’t stay in here too often haha

- aaaw the small weary sigh din gives upon realizing none of his bros can go with mayfeld. I’m sorry about basically your entire life buddy

-

the awkward way din adjusts the helmet like he’s trying to get used to the way it feels ;______;  

- ah the distinct implication that mayfeld is needling din about this because he’s actually feeling super uncomfortable being back in empire gear and he needs to transfer that discomfort over onto someone else so he won’t have to feel through it... very psychologically understandable and such a fucking piece of shit asshole character trait to give in to haha

- din’s level of side eye is so epic you can see it straight through the helmet fhaskjfhd

- neat detail: din’s head turns slightly toward mayfeld when he calls mandalorians a ‘race’. (it’s sort of cool  that we as the audience know why that bothers him, but mayfeld probably didn’t even pick up on it). also shows that mayfeld doesn’t actually quite understand what he’s talking about, even when he makes decent points he’s caught up in his own myopic nihilistic point of view. ‘we’re all the same’ ------> ‘everyone’s secretly as shitty as me deep down’. (which also betrays a lot of self loathing, since we see later he does have the capacity to NOT be that shitty when he chooses to. rick famuyiwa manages to get a LOT of really interesting nuanced stuff into this character in two short episodes, that’s super impressive)   

the bright sunny look on mayfeld’s face when din finally gives in and takes the bait tho fsajdkfhasj he’s awful but that’s very funny

- rip all these excellent dudes who really only wanted to accomplish the noble goal of ruining the empire’s entire day and didn’t know they were also trying to blow up My Dad Who Does Not Deserve Any Of This, it’s honestly just really sad that there’s no moment to talk that out

well at least they blew up the entire refinery on their way out, I’m sure that’s the way they would have wanted their memories honored lol

- the comedy beat of din running out of ammo for the first time ever and the music briefly cutting out for it is so so good for me 

hahahaha din seems to actually take a moment to be a little aghast at that dude who ends up crushed under the treads of the tank thing, he’s just sort of staring for a few seconds too long and that’s how pirate nr 2 takes him by surprise and shatters his shoulder armour 

- I feel a bit bad -- two of the ‘pirates’ try to hold on to each other for balance and then din punches them apart and off the tank :( I mean it’s not like he could just let them murderate him either but like. ouch I’m guessing this one might haunt him for a while for several reasons huh

(the sequence is actually this guy, let’s call him pirate 3, swings the spear at din and misses, instead hitting his buddy who’s trying to get to his feet, then looks horrified and grabs for him to make sure he doesn’t fall off, and then... mando’s forehead happens to them haha)

- poor fennec and cara just running up that hill while everything’s on fire, they must be wondering what the FUCK is going on (at least cara knows that things blowing up is a sure sign din djarin is in the middle there somewhere)

- everything about carano in real life aside for one second -- I do like that we get this contrast in build between our main female characters of the episode and the way their costume designs enhance it

 - awwww the little gesture din does with his hand after he removes it from mayfeld’s chest after stopping him from leaving, it’s just so... sweet. it’s a little bit appeal, a little bit reassurance, it just lightens/softens the tone of what he says a bit (he has quite a lot of like... not conciliatory mannerisms exactly, but small touches here and there that are there to communicate that he’s not angry/aggressive or trying to be a dick about it even when he’s emphatic. I keep wondering how much that is just him being him and how much is him being practiced at settling other people’s hot tempers)  

- this shot is just... genius

it’s din seen entirely from the outside, with nothing of what we’ve learned to recognize as him for almost two seasons now in view -- not even his face, which we have at least a tenuous fledgling attachment to from before. it’s like we get introduced to him almost as if anew again and again in this episode, just like he’s getting introduced to new aspects of himself and what he’s willing to do and having to struggle to find ways to have that fit with who he is. his discomfort and stress is our discomfort and stress. it’s so interesting 

- I can’t stop cackling at this moment even in all the tension -- you only get a sliver of din’s profile but you can feel the sheer MURDER radiating off him sdhfasjk

- aaaaaaaagh the way you get a whole different view of din’s habitual impassiveness when you can actually see his face... the way he keeps appealing to mayfeld ‘just don’t make more trouble, just shut up’, the way he goes completely silent and watchful and frozen..... those are all really obvious trauma responses, and it leads you to wonder how often he touches into that even when he’s in his element, when he’s got the full armour on. hmngh my heart  

- ‘the believer’ is such a galaxy brain title for this episode, because it could be referring to either of the three men around this table or all of them at once. (and crucially the only person whose beliefs aren’t in a living, breathing state of adapting to the world around them is the empire officer, with his horrific inhuman ideology. mayfeld thinks he believes in nothing, and proves himself explosively wrong by the end of the episode, and it’s redeeming for him in some capacity. din is facing a more internal dilemma of different parts of his (and his culture’s) beliefs/values clashing and having to decide which one’s more important, to his identity and to how to exist in the world as a person (and love for the baby wins out supremely in the end. of course it does Y_____Y). the empire dude only sees the same sterile fascist world at the end of his shit rainbow that he’s clearly always done, even when faced with proof that it’s untenable. (I mean he wouldn’t give a fuck that it’s immoral because he’s y’know evil, but he’s not even fazed by the fact that the empire provably FAILED, and failed so quickly) his belief is a dead and deadening thing to contrast the others. man when this show goes off with the themes it goes OFF haha) 

- love the triumphant heroic mando music kicking in as we’re finally getting to pick off imps, love that for us 

- din’s protective instincts at work again, he helps mayfeld to his feet and makes sure he’s safely on board before going further in himself ;_______;

- fennec’s professional approval at mayfeld’s shot hahaha. well I guess he was supposed to be a sharpshooter back in the day huh

I do Not think she likes mayfeld even after all that, though, the withering look she sends him on her way past... should have killed him stone dead on the spot

- seeing din back in the armour is like a physical relief, I can breathe again haha

- tfw you catch yourself thinking ‘at least when all this is over we can go back to the razor crest and everything will be normal again’ and then you rEMEMBER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #honestly I could add a lot more of my boba thirst in this lol (idk din is always Dad not Daddy to me but boba's Doing something for me haha)

[kekoma]

— iwaizumi as your boyfriend.

no thoughts this time. just hajime. hope you enjoy.

ahh the lovely iwaizumi <3 aka iwa-chan~

another top tier boyfriend. can definitely bring him home to your family and they’ll love him automatically.

but before diving into what it’s like dating hajime, let’s warm up a bit and take a look at his crush stage with you.

actually takes him awhile to even realize he likes you more than a friend. 

only picked up this feeling when he noticed that he finds himself extremely comfortable around you and that he didn’t like the concept of you dating someone if it wasn’t going to be him. 

isn’t quick to act on his emotions though. no no no. matter of fact, no one even knows he has a crush on you (except for oikawa of course.)

hajime doesn’t show any signs of getting nervous when around you, attempting to distance himself from you because of fear he might slip or any of those antics. definitely isn’t the type of guy who spills to everyone that he likes you too. likes to keep to certain things to himself and you’re one of them. 

just acts completely normal around you for the most part.

although he does end up studying you more than before and constantly thinking about how you might feel towards him. 

but this won’t catch your attention since the subtle change doesn’t catch your attention automatically.

iwa does go out of his way to spend more time with you when he decides that he actually wants to be with you.

“hey y/n, a new cafe opened up a few blocks from school. i was thinking we should go there together for lunch.”

“oh? sure but i thought you had something to do during lunch?”

“i did but i rearranged it for later since i wanted to eat with you today.”

of course he asked oikawa for some type of advice/help when it came to asking you since iwa didn’t want to come off as boring or cheesy when asking you out. 

may or may not have wrecked his brains with different ideas about how to go about it which is why he went to his best friend for help.

“i can’t think of proper way to confess to y/n... hey dumbass, if you really liked someone, how would you ask them out?”

“first of all, rude. can’t believe that’s how you treat a good friend like me. anyways it’s simple my dear friend. i would go up to them during lunch, flash a charming smile, and just ask them to be mine. it’s cute, right?”

“... so let me ask you this since you decided to be funny. should i beat your ass now or later?”

“hey! you asked and i gave you an honest answer!”

“ah so now? gotcha shittykawa.”

iwaizumi ends up asking you during one your countless late night runs for snacks.

wasn’t anything super romantic yet it wasn’t completely boring/awkward either.

iwa went for a straight forward approach (not like ushijima straightforward).

 basically explained how he’s been feeling towards you lately and that he wants you to be his. of course when you accepted is confession and expressed how you felt the same— hajime couldn’t stop smiling like a fool.

side fact: he thought about going for a somewhat flirty approach at first by saying how cute you looked in his hoodie and if you really liked wearing his clothes then he wouldn’t mind supplying you with more without hounding you to return them after awhile.

however, iwa thought it sounded odd so he ended up confessing to you in a normal manner to avoid any kind of embarrassment.

now we can dig into the main course meal here: what’s its like dating hajime.

three words that come to mind with him... dependable, caring, and attentive.

starting with attentive, he doesn’t miss a beat if something is wrong with you.

due to constantly studying you previously (and still to this day), learning and picking up the habits you have— he’s able to figure out when things aren’t right with you so hiding your feelings isn’t an option for you love.

although if you attempt to hide them then don’t be surprised when he pulls you aside and confronts you about it. of course, it won’t be anything harsh like but more on the “hey you’re acting strange and this isn’t something i’m going to drop.” side of things.

this is when caring comes into play. iwaizumi isn’t the type of boyfriend that’s oblivious towards your emotions/moods nor does he leave you be.

will also add that he has made it known countless times to you that if anything bothers you then he wants to know in hopes that he can solve the issues. 

but if you’re someone who isn’t up to talk about the issues just yet then he’ll be understandable— won’t push too far but will give you a prep talk in hopes that can it lighten your mood. which i will label that as dependable playing it’s role.

to add more for dependable, i’ll mention that he’s the type of boyfriend that will wake up in the middle of the night, early in the morning or whatever time if you called him about going through any type of mental issues (having a break down, panic attack, etc.). he’ll rush over the minute he heard your voice and of course he ends up bringing items that could comfort you.

we stan and love that about him.

moving along, i’ve already mentioned that hajime remembers things about you but it’s not just emotional wise. matter of fact he knows what your favorite foods are, drinks, kind of aesthetic/style you go for, places you want to visit, hobbies, and all of the good stuff. 

if he were to ever be tested about how good he knows you, mans is getting an 100. can’t convince me otherwise.

the type of boyfriend who’s supportive of everything and anything you do. makes it known that he’s your number one fan and believes in you. 

won’t let you overwork yourself. hajime constantly makes sure your health is in good condition, but it you happen to get sick then best believe he’s showing up to your place with medicine and bringing you back to normal.

iwa purposely leaves his hoodies and shirts at your place since he knows you’ll end up wearing them and when you return them, they smell like you. he likes your scent.

he typically likes to gift you things he saw in the stores that reminded him of you as well as giving you flowers. sometimes you have to ask him to relax on the gifts because your room can’t handle it all.

hands down, DEADASS can’t convince me he DOESN’T, is the type of boyfriend who will throw hands at anyone who flirts with you or attempts to touch you.

like he would come back from getting something, visiting you at work or however you want to picture the scenarios and would see some lame guy trying to spit game at you.

the minute he notices him, iwaizumi is coming in to save the day. tries not to take the violence approach at first, but the minute that other dude says something disrespectful then his whole career is over.

hajime beats ass for a living so beating that man up was no problem, but getting him off of the dude is because the only thing on iwa’s mind is murder.

may even stomp his lights out and then go with a smirk.

anywaysss pda? pda.

iwaizumi is surprisingly comfortable but also a tad bit awkward with it. tries to avoid it sometimes because he doesn’t want others to notice just how soft he is with you/be made fun of.

but in public, the most iwa will do is the basic (with your permission of course because this man refuses to do anything if he doesn’t hear that you’re okay with what he does with you). such as holding hands, gives small kisses on your face that isn’t deemed too inappropriate, holding you in his arms/hugging, and all that good cutesy stuff.

two things he likes with you is piggy back rides and when you ruffle his hair.

with piggy back ride, for some reason it makes him feel all warm inside and he does it instantly the minute the words slip from your lips. sometimes he’ll offer one if you don’t ask him first. other times, he’ll offer them to you if he notices you’re too tired or your heels are hurting your feet.

when it comes to ruffling his hair.. he may act like it bothers him to the MAX sometimes but deep down this man loves it. just doesn’t want to admit to it just yet. the feeling of your hands in his hair is like floating on cloud nine for him.

as for private; of course cuddling is on this list. dude loves feeling you close to him and may even fall asleep while cuddling. don’t think positions really matter (unless notices that you’re trying to big spoon him).

definitely more touchy with you, but of course consent is key so he never goes too far with his touches/stops when you ask him to.

going to dates now~ 

dates with iwa is a mix of sporty and chill. will also add that sometimes it’s random.

like he’ll pick you up from class and suddenly say “let’s go on a date.” while you’re standing there a bit confused.

although if you aren’t someone who’s into sporty type of dates then he’ll always opted for the chill ones which is basically going to the arcades, laser tag, roller skating, paintball centers, go karting and etc.

shows more of his romantic side with the dates and you actually find out how soft he can really be. vv cute.

of course some of the dates won’t only be you two since oikawa tries his best to sneak himself in so he can be the third wheel that takes bomb ass pictures of you and just watch over you two like a parent.

“aren’t you tried of third wheeling oikawa?”

“oh no. never. besides without me, iwa here wouldn’t have any good pictures to post on his instagram... we both know he isn’t good at taking pictures.”

“i-... right right.”

gonna end it here before my brain overheats just a bit, but dating iwaizumi is worth it and each moment with him makings you fall in love with him all over again.

definitely gets the trophy for being the best boyfriend ever and you’re the luckiest person ever to have his heart.

something i forgot to add earlier— his top nicknames for you are; princess, dummy/idiot/stupid, babe/baby, and occasionally he’ll call you his munchkin <3

© all content belongs to kekoma 2020. do not repost, modify or translate.

#haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu aoba johsai #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n #hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x y/n #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #iwaizumi imagines #hq hcs #haikyuu hcs #iwaizumi hajime hcs #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #iwaizumi scenarios #🎐.iwaizumi

[hockeyboysiguess]

four calling bird -> four broken sticks | a. matthews

a/n: it’s me, again, hoping you aren’t yet sick of christmas fics from me. if you aren’t, here’s a link to the rest of this 12 days of christmas series!

word count: 4,161

warnings: two curse words and some angst. 

“How many broken sticks is that today, Matts?”

Auston didn’t know the answer and he didn’t care about the answer either. He just cared that his stick was broken and he couldn’t practice his slapshot with a broken stick. And he needed to take a slapshot right now, and another one, and another one. He needed to send a puck through the netting, through the glass behind it, and bury it deep in the wall behind that. Maybe his feelings for you would get buried with it if he could just hit the puck hard enough.

“I think he’s at two,” Willy supplied as Auston grabbed a fresh stick from the rack that unfortunately wasn’t pre-taped. He’d broken all of those already. 

“You missed one,” Mitch corrected. “That’s the third one he’s broken.”

Auston started a fresh roll of tape, starting with the heel of his new stick like always.

“I’m right here,” Auston reminded his teammates who were talking about him like suddenly he was invisible as he taped his stick lazily. One of his worst tape jobs in awhile, but he didn’t really care. “I’m not breaking any more. Just in case you were wondering.” 

That promise worked for another twenty minutes. Until Mitch dared to ask the question everyone had been avoiding. 

“So, did you tell your mom you broke up and that she’s not coming with you for Christmas yet? If not, you kind of need to tell her. You can’t just show up without her.”

And there came the fourth broken stick as the final whistle of practice came, with Auston thinking about the inevitable phone call with his mother and really having to say it out loud that he lost you after everyone told him ad nauseum not to lose you because you were so much better than him. You were so much better than him and Auston couldn’t pretend he was even half of the person you were. He couldn’t even think about watching you shove your things in a box as you raced out of his place, or the drawer that your things had inhabited now sitting empty, or the fact that his mom loved you and he hadn’t told her you weren’t coming to Arizona. He really couldn’t think about losing you a week before Christmas, the time of the year that was supposed to be magical and pure and good and joyful. Instead, Auston was pretty sure he hated Christmas now. 

Auston knew for a fact he hated Christmas as he pressed his mom’s contact on his phone while climbing into his car. He loved his mother and loved talking to her. He loved that he was going to get to go home for a few days and spend the holidays with her. But you were supposed to be there too and telling his mom was the last barrier that made the breakup real. A large part of Auston still thought he’d open his eyes in the morning and your hair would be in his face and your bobby pins would be all over his bathroom counter and your clothes would be haphazardly stuffed in your drawer and overflowing into two of his that technically weren’t yours but might as well have been. 

But then his mom answered the phone and he knew that wasn’t going to happen. This wasn’t a nightmare. Well, it might still have been a nightmare before Christmas, but it wasn’t all in his head like he desperately hoped it was. 

“Hi, mijo!” She greeted him with a warmth that always made him feel like he was back in Arizona, but today it also made Auston feel sick to his stomach because he was about to break her heart, never mind the fact that his was already broken too. “How are you? How was practice? We’re all so excited to see you both tomorrow!”

Auston let out a long breath, the kind that let his mom know there was something heavy and unspoken that was going to disrupt the Christmas cheer she’d been building since the Leafs schedule came out and she realized Auston was actually going to be able to make it home for Christmas this year. 

“Actually, um, about tomorrow…”

He trailed off, mostly because his bottom lip started to shake and his eyes started to get cloudy, but also because he wasn’t sure exactly how to admit that the girl his mom adored, who she fully and honestly wanted him to marry, wasn’t coming with him for Christmas this year or next year or any of the years after that. She was gone. He lost her and it was all his fault.

“Mijo, what’s wrong?” 

Auston bit his lower lip hard, hoping that would stop the shake and make his eyes gloss over from a pain that wasn’t in his chest. The words were so timid coming out of his mouth, syllables broken, shattered as they left his lips, “She broke up with me, ma. She’s not coming for Christmas.” 

Ema Matthews didn’t mean to; she wanted to be supportive of her son, but what came out was, “What did you do, mijo?” even though she should’ve just asked him what happened.

“I guess I just didn’t love her enough to overcome how shitty it is to date me,” Auston mumbled, replaying the night over in his head as he spoke. “Sorry for swearing, mama.” 

Auston remembered your sweater from a few nights ago when you showed up at his place, your snowflake one, subtle office appropriate Christmas, is what you’d called it in the moment. Auston had laughed, until he saw an empty box in your hands. He was confused when you set it down on the counter and didn’t take your shoes off. You didn’t bend down to pet Felix like you always did. Your shoes got kicked off haphazardly by his front door and then you pet Felix and then you came over and gave him a kiss. It was your routine when you came over, but this time your shoes stayed on, you barely acknowledged Felix, and there was an empty box sat on a counter in place of kissing him. 

“Auston,” you had sighed and he knew the second he heard the way you said his name that you were breaking up with him. He had been so scared of ever hearing it that he’d imagined every single way it would sound if you were going to do it. Finding you, and you somehow being willing to date him, had been the biggest blessing Auston had ever received. He had always thought that some day you would wake up and realize you could do so much better than him, so he’d imagined what it would sound like when he couldn’t sleep at night on the road without you. He thought if he familiarized himself with every possible permutation of it that when it eventually happened, he wouldn’t cry in front of you, that maybe he wouldn’t beg for you to stay even though you shouldn’t want people who don’t want you. 

It didn’t work. The way you said his name made him cry.

“Please,” Auston had said softly. “Please don’t do this now. Please. It’s Christmas. I know that stupid, but please don’t break up with me at Christmas.” 

You had hung your head and sighed again, “I’m sorry, Aus. I just, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve tried. I’ve tried for so long to just tune it out, just focus on you and us but lately everything has been just so loud that I can barely hear myself think. My friends and family are getting harassed. It’s not just me anymore. It’s too loud. It’s too much. And I don’t want to spend Christmas with your family knowing I just want to end it. That’s not fair to you or your mom or anyone.” 

“How is showing up at my place with a box to dump me for stuff I can’t control without even having a discussion fair either?” 

Auston had tried to fight back. He had tried to have a conversation, to communicate, something he had been absolutely awful at when you started dating. You had been so patient, so kind, and so steadfast with him as he figured out how to be a partner, how to meet you halfway. Here you were, after he worked so hard on himself because he thought if he worked hard enough maybe he could be worth a small part of you, acting like it wasn’t enough, that everything he couldn’t control mattered more than him. Unfortunately, sometimes, people can try as hard as they can, with all of their might, and still lose. He was so good to you, so good with you, but in the effort of fixing himself, of learning to be a better partner with as much of his energy as he had to give, he’d slipped a little in one area. Auston didn’t protect you enough from the noise and you were damaged because of his lack of ability to shield you from the press, from the fans, from every hungry person who fed on other people’s drama and suffering, from people who didn’t want you and Auston to be happy. Auston lost because he didn’t have more to give than he was already giving you. He lost you because what he had to give just wasn’t enough like a rejected Christmas present, rejected not because the gift inside wasn’t beautiful, but because it came with a toxic addition that Auston had tried not to wrap up with him, but failed. 

Driving down the street, all the Christmas decorations seemed to be mocking him. This was supposed to be his best one in a long time, getting to be back in Arizona with his family, plus getting to spend it with you. If Auston had drawn up his perfect Christmas at the start of the year, what he had planned was what he would’ve drawn up. But even the best laid plans, even the most carefully selected gifts, didn’t always pan out. 

“I’m sorry, mijo,” his mother told him softly, any earlier traces of disappointment over losing you from the family gone. She’d have to work through that herself later. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Auston felt like he was supposed to want to talk about it, about what it felt like to lose you and what he was feeling like now that he was being forced to become settled in it even though that was the last thing he wanted. Auston didn’t want to talk about the breakup though because he just tried so hard with you and he came up short anyway. Talking about shortcomings that couldn’t be fixed, because he could never fully shelter you from the noise of everyone else, wasn’t healthy. He could do everything in his power, use all of his energy, to protect you from it all, put zero effort into your actual relationship, and he still couldn’t do it. Talking about something Auston would always fail at and how it had cost him you wasn’t something he was all that interested in with the wreaths on the light posts and the Christmas carols on the radio station that you had insisted he play in his car mocking him. 

“Not really, ma,” Auston admitted softly. “Kind of just need to be alone tonight.” 

“Of course, sweetheart,” she mumbled as assuringly as she could. “Do whatever you need to do.” 

What Auston needed to do to feel better was drive over to your place and beg for another chance, a chance to do it better. He couldn’t even fully protect you, but maybe he could find more to give somewhere in him and do it better, while not being a worse boyfriend for it all. Except Auston knew you didn’t want him to try. You hadn’t asked for him to try. You had just broken up with him, just like that. Now, he was spending Christmas where the only gift he had received so far was his own heart shattered, given to him in an unwrapped box. 

“Yeah, I think I just need some time,” Auston sighed, running a hand through his hair before returning it to the steering wheel. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“If you change your mind and want to talk, you know you can call anytime,” Ema tried to assure her son softly. 

Auston just hummed softly in agreement, before telling his mother Merry Christmas and that he'd see her tomorrow. He tossed his phone careless into the cup holder, one of the side buttons hitting the side of the cup holder and greeting him with a picture of you kissing his cheek, arms wrapped around him, love obvious in your closeness. He hadn’t been able to change it yet, but your face squished against his cheek in that photo made his eyes tear up whenever he saw it. Luckily, the only lucky part of the last few days, he just pulled into his garage, so he could let the tears roll down his cheeks without worrying about not being able to see the road. Like every night since you’d left, Auston slept on the couch that night, the Christmas tree you had insisted on getting, mocking him in the corner. His sheets smelled too much like you to sleep in that bed, so he picked the mocking Christmas tree instead. 

Auston was on autopilot as he grabbed his bag, the one he’d left space in for your extra things that you wanted to pack that lived at his place. He didn’t fill the space he’d left for you because it was still your space. Like yesterday, the Christmas decorations and the Christmas music and the fake gingerbread smell coming from every shop in the airport mocked him as he waited for his flight. He just wanted to be home where he thought being around his family would feel enough like Christmas that he’d feel at least marginally better. He felt better when his mother wrapped her arms around him as he stepped off the plane, and when the warm Arizona sun hit his skin on the wall to the car. But it was all as temporary and out of place as the snowy decorations littering his parents’ home. Snow didn’t fall in Arizona and he didn’t have you anymore. 

His mom tried. His dad tried. His sisters tried. They all tried to cheer him up, shoving an ugly sweater over his head and a Santa hat on top of it. But he couldn’t engage in it. His mind was on you, on how you were supposed to be here, how he wanted to ask you to move in as part of your Christmas gift. He had a key made for you. He was so ready for you, for you and him for as long as he could see into the future, and now he just hated your favorite holiday. His bed felt too big that night, but at least the sheets in Arizona didn’t smell like you even though the space next to him was clearly meant for you. 

Auston woke up the next morning feeling hungover even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. He rubbed his eyes slowly and reached out to the space you were supposed to occupy, finding nothing but cold sheets and an emptiness that felt so much more vast than half of a king size bed. His phone reminded him that it was December twenty-fourth, Christmas Eve, but it had never felt less like Christmas for Auston. Christmas was supposed to be sickeningly sweet, like all the candy his mother would stuff in his stocking later tonight. It was supposed to be happy, and maybe that was the worst part of it all, that Auston felt like he was supposed to be happy but just couldn’t be. Hhe lost you and he felt like he was letting everyone down by not being happy, by not being filled with Christmas cheer that was just making him feel so sick he couldn’t even eat his reindeer shaped pancakes his mother made, like she did every Christmas Eve morning. 

“You want to help me with the cookies?” his older sister asked him, trying to will Auston away from where he’d settled on the couch after being unable to eat his breakfast.

“I’m fine,” he replied with his eyes still trained on his phone. 

He was flipping through photos of you, something he knew would only hurt worse, but he couldn’t stop. He was trying to find out when something had changed, when you stopped looking at him with all the love in the world, the look that people had made fun of you for ever having about him of all people. Now that Auston was looking back on it, maybe they were right to do so. Maybe he was inevitably going to ruin what he had with you and everyone else had seen it from the start, noticed the inevitable unmarked intersection where you would crash into each other. When you crashed last week, it seemed only Auston walked away with any damage, shattered like an ornament that fell from the top of the tree, only to have the fragments of him carelessly tossed in the trash, no attempt made to repair him. 

Auston didn’t leave the couch except to move to the outdoor couch at his mother’s insistence and then back to the indoor one after the sun had set, time passing as it always did but affecting him less. He felt the same from moment to moment, an out of tune, incongruent symphony of thoughts of you, good, bad, and all the gray area in between, like the poor excuse for a symphony the carolers probably behind the knock on his front door would make that interrupted his private thoughts. His family was in the kitchen and he was closest to the front door. He didn’t want to answer and be faced with the prospect of ruining the Christmas spirit for a van-load of local children, but he didn’t have much of a choice when his mom called out for him to answer the door. 

Auston didn’t bother to look out to see who it was, choosing instead to get the shooting of children’s Christmas caroling dreams out of the way as quickly as possible. 

“Hey, guys, I appreciate you coming by, but we’re not really-”

Auston’s words caught on the tip of his tongue when he fully opened the door to see not the group of Christmas carolers he thought he would, but to see you standing there. You had nothing but a broken smile and a small duffle bag, the kind of small that indicated you didn’t know if you were about to be getting right back on a plane or if you were going to be allowed to come in. It was a kind of honest small, one that didn’t want to hope for the best, just expected the worst. You were wearing a Christmas sweater, one of your ugly ones. It was too warm for Arizona, sweat on your temples and the sleeves pushed up to your elbows as evidence of this, but Auston knew you wouldn’t take it off. He knew so much about you. He knew your favorite color, he knew that you always slept at an angle in the bed with the comforter bunched in your arms, he knew you loved Christmas with a passion that rivaled Santa Claus himself, he knew why you had broken up with him, but he didn’t know why you were here. 

“Hi,” was all you offered and it didn’t serve as an explanation. 

“What are you doing here?” Auston managed to put together the question from all the others crashing together in his mind, questions and statements and incoherent thoughts clashing and making it hard to come up with anything specific to say. “What? How? Why?”

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a long breath, before taking your bottom lip nervously between your teeth. You had a thousand reasons, really more than that as to why you’d bought a ridiculously expensive one-way ticket from Toronto to Arizona on Christmas Eve, why you’d squished yourself between a grandmother with a purse of overflowing powdery mints and a crying infant to show up at his door. None of your reasons were clear now though, all of them jumbling together, tangling up into an indistinguishable mess in your mind that only led to one statement that you weren’t sure if it even properly captured everything you needed to say to him. 

“I never want to spend Christmas without you, Auston.” 

There was so much unsaid, so many things Auston had been feeling since you walked out with a box of your things, leaving him with nothing of you but his memories, the photos on his phone, the gifts he’d picked out for you but never got to give you, and a dread of the holiday he had come to love with you. There was so much those nine words didn’t cover, so much hurt and agony underneath them. But fuck if they weren’t the prettiest bandage Auston had ever seen in his life. 

“I never want to spend Christmas with you either,” Auston breathed out, words spoken with relief so real and honest you felt like you could touch it.

You adjusted the duffle bag in your hand, shifting it from your left to your right as you looked at Auston. He looked horrible, dark circles under his eyes, a hollowness in his cheeks, but his eyes were so hopeful looking at you now, bright and deep, exactly like he looked the day you fell into him for the first time and decided to stay. His eyes were like Christmas morning, a beautiful promise breaking through the heaviness of a December that carried pain it wasn’t supposed to understand. You took a deep breath and hoped nine words, hope, and a little Christmas miracle were on your side. 

“Baby, can I come home for Christmas?” 

Auston didn’t hesitate. He knew his answer through and through, “Only if you stay for every Christmas forever.” 

You felt the tears sting your eyes as you stepped toward him, head nodding up and down as you accepted his terms. You thought you could handle being without him if it meant all of the negativity you felt from other people was no longer a factor. Except you couldn’t have been more wrong. People were still mean. The world still had a lot of darkness in it. All you had done by leaving him was create more darkness for yourself when his love and the light it brought left with him. Crawling back into his arms, feeling the familiar warmth of his chest, you felt his love wrap around you tightly, and your world became just a little brighter again. 

“I love you and I’m so sorry,” you mumbled into his ugly sweater covered chest. 

“Shh,” he mumbled softly into your hair. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re home for Chrismtas.”

You squeezed him impossibly tighter because if you let go, he might slip through your fingers like smoke, a figment of your imagination evaporating in front of you. You clung to him and he held you just as firmly, fearing the same thing, fearing his Christmas miracle would cease to be real if he wasn’t holding you. Hell, you weren’t a Christmas miracle. You were the best thing he had ever gotten in his entire life, the best gift the universe ever gave him. This year for Christmas, Auston Matthews lost you and got you back. While he could’ve done without the losing you part, he had you back. You were right here, in his arms, where you belonged and Auston Matthews wouldn’t be spending Christmas without you. He never had to spend another Christmas without you, the real Christmas miracle, the fact that his Christmases would forever include you now. 

You were home for Christmas. You were home for forever. Home was Auston and Christmas just isn’t Christmas with thousands of miles between you and your heart. But you were holding him now and you knew that waking up in his arms on Christmas morning was the only way you ever wanted to wake up for every Christmas in the future, starting with the one coming in a few short hours that you knew would make you crave the next one as soon as it finished. 

You loved him. He loved you. Love was inherently complicated, the joining of two people. Christmas uncomplicated it all, boiled everything down to the most simple thing possible; Auston Matthews was your person, and you wanted to share every Christmas with him. So, you walked into the house and started with this one.

#auston matthews #auston matthews fic #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews writing #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter fourteen

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn't expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rating: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

“A bit higher.” 

Beca pushed the small mountain-shaped shelf an inch higher, looking over her shoulder as she held it. “Like that?” 

Chloe nodded, smiling. “Perfect.” She walked over and handed Beca the drill, watching as she skillfully made a hole into the wall and inserted a dowel. “I didn’t know you were handy with tools.” 

Beca snickered. “Basic things only.” She twisted the screw in and hung the shelf, taking a few steps back to observe her work. “That looks cute.” 

Chloe glanced around the room, nodding as she absent-mindedly rubbed her belly. She had just reached thirty weeks, and Bean’s arrival was scarily close. The nursery was coming along nicely, the crib having just been delivered today, while the rest was pretty much done. 

The closet was full of onesies, tops, pants and a few dresses, swaddles, blankets, and loveys, and the dark oak changing table (matching the yet to be assembled crib) was stocked up with diapers, wipes, bodysuits, and a variety of creams and oils. 

Chloe had channeled her stress into reading as much as she could about newborns, what to do and not do, and while she had experience with babies from back when she was a teenager, she was relieved not to be doing this on her own.

“It does,” Chloe agreed, loving the subtle woodland theme she went for and all the love they poured into making this safe place for Bean. “It’s really cozy.” 

“Alright, now onto the big project,” Beca said, nodding towards the large package laying on the floor. “You’ll get to see how limited my knowledge of tools really is.” 

Chloe laughed and helped take the different parts of the cribs out of the box, then headed into the kitchen to get them some refreshments. 

The last six weeks had been really good. The Bellas welcoming her back with open arms had definitely helped with Chloe’s recovery, and her talk with Beca, that promise that she would wait for her to be ready filled Chloe with a renewed sense of self-worth and made her fall in love with Beca a little bit more. 

Chloe was now just over six months sober. The nagging for booze and snow sat somewhere at the back of the brain, and she doubted it would ever go away, but she was getting better at not listening to it. 

She stifled a laugh at the sight of Beca looking awfully perplexed by the instructions when she walked back into the room. “You good?” 

Beca chuckled. “Yeah. Just trying to make sense of this.” She glanced up to Chloe, accepting the glass of homemade lemonade with a smile and setting it beside her. 

“They sent us two baby monitors?” Chloe asked as she sat on the floor, noticing the two exact same boxes. They had ordered a bunch of stuff from the same website, and quite a few boxes had come with the crib while Chloe was at her NA meeting, and Beca had put everything in the nursery. “We only ordered one.” 

“No, um, I figured one more would be handy,” Beca said as she picked up one of the crib ends and two of the four legs, along with four bolts. “So I hear Bean when she cries at night, too.”

Chloe shook her head. “I can take care of nights. I don’t want your whole sleeping rhythm to be thrown off because of Bean, you’ve got work, too.” 

“I know, but I’m concerned the lack of sleep might mess up with your recovery if you handle it on your own. I’ve read some horror stories about some babies waking up every few hours and that for six months.” Her focus shifted from the crib assembling to Chloe. “I meant what I said when I told you you wouldn’t be on your own with this. But I don’t want to overstep either, so I want you to tell me if you need me to back up a little. I promise I won’t be upset.” 

Chloe’s heart swelled with more love. She didn’t know why she kept being surprised every time Beca showed her how dedicated to the both of them she was. Still, she felt a little guilty for disrupting Beca’s routine, but she knew Beca was right. 

“You’re not overstepping,” Chloe assured her, softly. “And I want you guys to bond, so I think you taking care of her without me might be a great way to do that.”

“Okay,” Beca murmured, smiling as she went back to her task at hand. “The label already knows I’m taking two months off once she’s born, so I’m around to help out. Maybe she’ll sleep through the night by the time I have to head back.” 

Chloe chuckled. “We can always dream.” She cleared her throat. “I was also thinking about Bean’s guardians, in case something happens to me, and I’d like for you to be one of them.” 

Beca paused mid-screwing in a bolt and met Chloe’s gaze. It was clear she was moved, and it made Chloe smile. “Of course. I’d be honored.” 

“Aubrey will be the other guardian, just so you know. So if I die, you’ll be seeing a lot more of her.” 

Beca’s nose wrinkled. “Is it too late to backtrack?” She asked with a soft laugh. Chloe knew she was just joking, as she and Aubrey got on really well, now. “I think Aubrey is a great pick. At least I know I won’t have to be the bad cop. But let’s hope she and I never have to be Bean’s guardians. I’m good with just being the cool aunt.”

The crib was easier to put together than they had originally thought. It only took Beca forty-five minutes, and once it was all done, Chloe grabbed the mattress and set it inside.

“It’s just missing one thing,” Beca said, casting Chloe a smile before she left the room, coming back a minute later. “Close your eyes.” 

Chloe did so, and it sounded like Beca was fumbling with something by the crib. 

“Okay, open them now.” 

Chloe let out a soft gasp at the sight of the animal mobile set up above the crib. A fox surrounded by mountains and clouds. “Beca…” 

“I wanted to get Bean a gift, and you mentioned an animal mobile, so I had this custom made with a friend of a friend.” 

“It’s perfect,” Chloe whispered, blinking back the tears pricking behind her eyes. She was used to crying over the smallest of things by now that she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. Wrapping an arm around Beca’s waist, she leaned her head over her shoulder, basking in the warmth and peace being in close proximity with Beca brought her. 

“I think so, too,” Beca murmured, her own arm coming up to wrap around Chloe’s back as she brushed a soft kiss to her forehead. 

*

Summer chilled to fall over the following week. Chloe was thankful for the cooler temperatures, as her body felt like a furnace on its own, she didn’t need any additional heat. Now thirty-one weeks, she had started to waddle, much to Beca’s amusement, it seemed, even if she only claimed to find it adorable. She also got winded after walking up a single flight of stairs and was insanely grateful for the elevator in Beca’s building. 

Hanging a left when it reached the right floor, Chloe headed down the hallway, pulling her keys out of her jacket pocket and sliding them into the lock. 

“SURPRISE!” 

Chloe jolted slightly, her hand shooting up to her chest in shock. Most of the Bellas stood in Beca’s decorated living-room, beaming at her. Above them hung a cute oh baby banner and a table was laid out with various snacks and a cake. 

“Oh my gosh, you guys!” She exclaimed as soon as she regained her composure, stepping further inside to hug each one of her friends tightly. “Did you do all this?” She asked when she got to Beca, awe leaking in her tone.

“Aubrey helped,” Beca said, nodding towards the blonde standing to her right. 

“Thank you,” Chloe murmured as she pulled away, embracing Aubrey next. It had taken some time for them to find their way back to how they used to be after so many years apart, and Chloe was so grateful Aubrey gave her a second chance. “Love you, Bree.” 

“Love you, too.” 

The afternoon was filled with fun activities such as onesie decorating, a Name that Tune game with songs that had the word baby in it, and a cupcake decorating contest. Towards the end of the day, Chloe was coaxed into opening the girls’ present, starting with the one Jessica set in her lap. 

“This is from all of us,” she said, smiling as Chloe peered into the bag. 

She fished the item out, her heart bursting in her chest as she unfolded the blue and gold onesie which bore the Barden Bella B. “Oh… I love it. Thank you.” 

The girls definitely spoiled Bean, gifting Chloe with a bunch of adorable onesies, animal stuffies, mittens, swaddles, a bear winter jumpsuit for those freezing days ahead of them, and an expensive-looking electric swing.

“This is too much,” she croaked out once she had unwrapped the large box, shaking her head in disbelief as the girls simply waved her concern off. 

“Oh, that’s from your parents,” Beca chimed in as Chloe reached for the second-to-last present. 

Tears pooled in her eyes (she had honestly lost track of how many times she’d cried in the last couple of hours) as she took the familiar item out of the bag. “It’s my baby blanket,” she told the girls as she unfolded the mustard blanket her mom had knitted while she was pregnant with her. She traced the name she had picked for her baby girl, which her mom had added in white lettering in a corner. Chloe smiled as she brought it to her nose; it smelled like home. 

The last gift was a pampering kit for Chloe, as well as a few items she would need for after labor. 

“I learned some stuff about childbirth that I wish I’d never known while looking for items to add to this,” Amy said with a grimace, drawing a giggle from Chloe. “I didn’t know things could tear like that down below.” 

Chloe winced along with the rest of the Bellas, her chuckle coming out strained. “Thanks, Amy.” 

Beca ordered pizzas for everyone, and the girls stuck around until nine pm, helping to clean up the living-room before they left. Chloe changed into her pajamas and made herself some herbal tea for her and Beca, joining her on the couch. 

“You okay?” Beca asked as she took one of the mugs from Chloe. 

“Yeah,” Chloe breathed out, curling up on the opposite end of the couch. “Thank you for today. It was so nice to see the girls again. I’m really lucky.” 

“You’re welcome, Chlo.” She motioned towards her lap. “C’mon, hand me those feet.” 

Chloe giggled, setting her feet on Beca’s thighs and biting back a moan as she started kneading the sole of her right foot. It had become a sort of a ritual these past few weeks, for Beca to give Chloe a foot rub while they chilled on the couch after dinner. “Am I going to lose those privileges once I’m no longer pregnant?” She teased. 

Beca smirked. “We’ll see.”

“I heard back from my old vet school, this morning,” Chloe said, following a few minutes of comfortable silence. She had been communicating back and forth with the advisor over there, who finally heard back from the head of the department. “Since I did two years of vet school already, I’d only have to do one more year to become a vet tech. They offered for me to jump into the school year in January, but that feels a little too soon after Bean gets here, so I think I’ll wait until September next year,” she explained as she rubbed her bump. “But I definitely plan on getting a part-time job waitressing or something by next spring, as soon as Bean is old enough go to daycare.” 

Finding a good daycare with availability had been a headache, but Chloe had luckily found a spot at the one she had set her eyes on in the neighborhood. 

“That’s great news,” Beca mused aloud, smiling. “I’m proud of you.” 

“I wouldn’t be where I am without you, Bec,” Chloe murmured, returning her smile. A groan flitted past her lips a second later. “Ugh, I need to pee again.” 

Beca chuckled as Chloe heaved herself to her feet and waddled to the bathroom. She had just shut the door behind her when a sharp pain in her lower belly made her double over, her hand shooting out to grip the counter while the other one cradled her bump. 

Panic gripped her insides as she slowly straightened when her head stopped spinning, letting go of her stomach to dip her hand past the waistband of her sweatpants. Her fingers met something warm and sticky, and Chloe’s heart lurched to her throat when she pulled them out, eyes zeroing on the blood. 

“No, no, no,” she muttered to herself, forcing down the lump forming in her throat with a hard swallow. She called Beca’s name, her voice wavering as tears rose to her eyes. 

“What’s wrong??” Beca rushed out as she rounded the corner, the sight before her answering her own question. Her eyes widened, and she paled, freezing for a couple of seconds before setting into motion. “I’m taking you to the ER. I’ll grab your shoes and coat.” 

Chloe gave a faint nod even though she wasn’t sure she registered Beca’s words. Her feet seemed rooted to the floor while Beca’s hurried steps faded. She couldn’t move. She kept staring at her bloodied hand as the most dreaded, terrible, gut-wrenching feeling seized her entire being. 

“I can’t--” she found herself saying when Beca appeared in her line of vision. The air got stuck in her throat before it could reach her lungs, just as her words died before it reached her tongue. She couldn’t lose her baby. “Bec.” 

“I know,” Beca murmured as she helped Chloe slip her jacket on. Her own hands were shaking. She bent down to guide Chloe’s feet into her sneakers, one by one, then grabbed a towel from the cupboard under the sink. 

Another cramp made Chloe cry out, and she felt more blood seeping out of her, in a greater amount this time around. She felt it dripping down her legs and choked on a sob, clutching at her stomach. 

The elevator ride and walk to the car was a blur, and Chloe found herself blankly staring out the window as Beca rushed to the hospital, hoping with all her might that her baby would be okay.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #period piece

[kythed]

circus mirrors & stereo hearts

sugawara koushi x reader

this one goes out to my new friend, @twat-101 :) it’s a bit long, but I hope you still like it ! sending lotsa love your way <3

synopsis: (y/n) is struggling with her mental health so her best friend suga-san invites her over to study. general chaos and dumbassery ensues.

warnings: some swearing, mentions of mental health struggles, suga’s tone deaf singing.

word count: 4,226

--

Koushi always kept his windows open. Always.

In the winter, this transformed his room into a tiny Antarctica, replete with stray snowflakes, but in the summer, it meant cool tradewinds cutting through the typically stifling heat, creating a little pocket of the ideal climate. You often found yourself there in these warmer months, perched on the corner of his bed, contently listening to him blithely gossip about his teammates or playing a giggly game of Connect Four rife with not so subtle cheating.

Today, a sunny August Saturday, was no different. Koushi sat cross legged on the carpet. Sprawled out across his pale blue comforter, which smelled of fresh linen and that familiar Old Spice he’d been wearing since the eighth grade, you listened to him recite a chapter from your history book, something about post World War II foreign policy. Struggling to remain attentive, however, you found yourself spiraling into those cheerless resignations of hopelessness that had been far too frequent for you lately.

“--which resulted in Europe’s economic recovery chiefly in terms of raw materials, food, and fuel. The Soviet Union soon attempted to replicate a similar plan but ultimately-- hey, (Y/N)?”

You blinked hard and sunk back into reality, turning onto your cheek to look Koushi in his big brown eyes full of rather matronly concern. “Hmm?”

“Do you know what we’re learning about right now?” he asked, sounding both amused and disapproving. A strand of grey fell in front of his face and he quickly blew it away, smiling slightly. “Because it seems like you’ve been zoning out for the last ten or so minutes. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but Mr. Shishido specifically said this chapter was going to be on the test.”

“Uh… something about muzzer Roosia?” you joked with an exaggerated accent.

Koushi rolled his eyes and flicked your forehead. You yelped and glared at him reproachfully. “We were talking about the Marshall Plan. The United States’ recovery aid program for Western Europe after wartime devastation.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” you protested as Koushi tugged on your forearms and you toppled off the bed, nearly landing right on top of him. With a soft laugh, he extracted his limbs from yours and plopped his head into your lap like he used to when you were kids, resting beneath the boughs of that little oak tree in his backyard, listening to a choir of cicadas croon under a late afternoon sun. The ghost of a grin flitted over your face as you looked back on those halcyon days of your childhood. Usually Koushi’s mom would come out onto the porch with a couple of already-melting lemon popsicles in hand, and the two of you would scramble out of each other’s embrace and tear towards her, breathlessly racing for a priceless reward of sweet smiles and sticky hands.

What you wouldn’t give to go back to that time of gleeful oblivion, before your world became characterized by that all too persistent self-consciousness and excruciating anxiety. What you wouldn’t give to once again feel worthy of Koushi’s innocent adoration…

“--(Y/N)!”

For the second time today, you shook yourself awake. Koushi gazed up at you, brows furrowed. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you needed to take a little study break. Obviously, you do. I swear, your attention span gets shorter every day.” He pointed somewhere behind you. “Mind grabbing my phone? It’s on the bed.”

You leaned over as far as you could without disturbing Koushi’s position, head still nestled in your lap, and swept your hand over the covers before it bumped into his phone, which you promptly snatched and dropped onto his stomach. He gave a soft “oomph” at the impact before pulling up his Spotify and selecting a playlist, the cover of which was a selfie of the two of you at last year’s spring carnival. A blurred sakura tree provided the perfect backdrop for your smiling faces pressed cheek-to-cheek to fit in the frame. Sugar dusted the corners of Koushi’s mouth, the last trace of the powdered donut you’d shared right before.

“What’s that? I don’t think I’ve listened to that one before.” You reached for the phone, but Koushi held it out just out of reach as music began to play, batting your hand away. “I look awful in that picture; you could’ve chosen something a little more flattering.”

“Oh, shush. You looked pretty that day, wearing that blue sundress with the little flowers on the hem… blue really suits you, you know.” Koushi smiled fondly at his screen, and you blushed despite yourself. “It’s a compilation of all our songs. I listened to this a lot last summer when you were in France with your family for a month. Whenever I missed you. You were off climbing the Eiffel Tower or making croissants and I was lounging around here, bored out of my mind and wishing you were home so we could be bored together.”

“You sappy bastard,” you said, though you really felt quite touched. “I didn’t even realize we had a song.”

“Not just a song,” he corrected. “Songs. Plural. Most of the songs we’ve ever listened to together, I reckon. Anything that reminds me of you, I put on here.”

“Why in the world would you do that?” you asked, aghast at his effort.

Koushi laughed at your surprise. “You’re my best friend, (Y/N). And believe or not, you mean a lot to me. I just like remembering the stuff we’ve done together.”

You nodded slowly, letting your fingers rest on his forehead and gently play with his grey locks. His eyes closed as you settled into a brief, comfortable almost-silence, tainted only by the soft, muffled melody trickling from tiny phone speakers. You cocked your head. “What song is this?”

“You don’t remember?” Koushi asked, sounding almost offended. He turned the volume up a few notches and held the phone closer to your ear.

Let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

You got the healing that I want

Just like they say it in the song

Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

“I don’t know if--” you cut off as it dawned on you. “Wait… no way. This isn’t…?”

“It is.” Koushi laughed as your face flushed a vivid crimson. “Uchimura’s party.”

Though embarrassed, you grinned, remembering that night. “The song that played at her twelfth birthday while we were in the closet during seven minutes in heaven.”

“We were way too young for that dumb game,” Koushi said with a smile, shaking his head. “God, I was so nervous. That was my first kiss, you know.”

“It was mine too,” you admitted. You remembered sitting on the carpeted floor of Uchimura’s rather cramped closet, knees touching, just barely able to see the outline of Koushi’s face illuminated by the smallest sliver of light shining through a crack in the door. He’d leaned forward, taking your hand in his own small clammy one. “It was really just a peck, though. It might not have counted.”

“It counted,” said Koushi firmly. “Whenever I get asked about my first kiss, I say it was ours. I say it was the best one I’ve ever had, too.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Now, I know that’s a lie. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

“Neither did I,” agreed Koushi. He caught your eye, crinkling his nose cutely. “That’s what made it so sweet. It was innocent. I tasted your bubblegum chapstick on my lips afterwards.”

“Bubblegum chapstick, huh?” You rolled your eyes and poked him softly in the ribs. “I couldn’t look you straight in the eyes for like three weeks after that.”

“I remember. You kept running away whenever I tried to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not sure we would’ve even stayed friends if Ms. Miyato hadn’t partnered us up for the volcano project at the end of that month.” You recalled those afternoons spent in Koushi’s kitchen, newspapers covering every visible surface and a huge, paper-mache volcano resting on the dining table, splattered with orange and yellow paint and smelling strongly of Elmer’s glue and vinegar. Oftentimes, work sessions would dissolve into paint fights, staining your school uniforms with small, colorful hand prints.

“Nah,” said Koushi confidently. “I wouldn’t have let you go that easily.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” you said under your breath.

Koushi stared at you for a second, sighing. Then he reached up to grasp your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and softly stroking his thumb across your palm. “You know, it was Uchimura’s eighteenth last weekend. You didn’t come.”

“Yeah. I had to study.” That was a lie. You just hadn’t thought anyone really wanted you there. Uchimura had been a friend of yours for years, but she had plenty of other friends to celebrate with. Probably didn’t even notice you weren’t there…

“She asked me where you were,” Koushi continued. “I said I didn’t know because you didn’t answer my texts that night.”

“Sorry,” you said quietly, avoiding eye contact. “Studying.”

“On a Friday night?” You didn’t answer, and Koushi squeezed your hand. “I had to choose Daichi for my charades partner… do you have any idea how shit he is at charades? He flopped on the ground and started convulsing, so I guessed ‘epilepsy.’ Guess what the word really was.”

“What?”

“Orgasm. The word was orgasm. You’d think he could just execute a simple pelvic thrust and make a face, but no, he had to go ahead and act like my great uncle Kaito when he had that heart attack at his ninety-fifth birthday last year.”

You cracked a small smile, imagining Daichi violently wiggling on the floor like a fish out of water. “Sounds like I missed out, then.”

“You really did,” said Koushi, eyes twinkling. He suddenly got solemn. “I missed you. Would’ve been a million times more fun with you there.”

“I doubt it.” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, smile fading. “I can be a real killjoy sometimes.”

“Not to me,” said Koushi. “Whenever you walk into the room, suddenly that’s the only room I wanna be in.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly. “Koushi… why are you telling me this?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply. He took your hand again, the one that had been playing with his hair, and held it to his chest. You felt his heart beat erratically beneath your palm. “You’ve been avoiding all our friends in general.”

“That’s not true,” you protested, though your heart sank. He had noticed. You wished you didn’t have to drag him into all your problems. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what, (Y/N)? Homework? Our physics teacher came and talked to me at my locker after school, asking if you’ve been struggling with any personal issues, because apparently you haven’t been turning in your assignments.” Koushi glanced up at you. “It seems like you’ve just been locked away in your room whenever you’re not in class. Not doing work, not going out. Remember a couple weeks ago, when I asked if you wanted to go see that movie with me at the drive-in? You said you had a family dinner in town, but later I passed by on my bike and your bedroom light was on. And today, it took four separate phone calls before you finally picked up and I managed to invite you over… I’ve been worried.”

“Maybe I’m just changing,” you protested weakly. “That’s a thing that happens. People change.”

“I agree, you have been changing. Just not for the better.” Koushi squeezed your hand again, his skin warm on your own. “I haven’t seen you smile, really smile, for ages. You’re always faking these days. What’s going on?”

“I…” you trailed off, trying to think of some excuse. The last thing you wanted was for Koushi to see what was really going on inside your head.

“The truth, (Y/N).”

You relented, shoulders sagging. “Just been tired, I guess.”

“Tired of what?”

“Tired of…” Your eyes grew moist despite your best efforts and you fought to keep from choking on the sob rising up your throat.

“Tired of…?” he pressed on, eyebrow raised.

Your next words tumbled out in a rush. “Just tired of being me, okay? It’s like… it’s just like, whenever I look in the mirror… I don’t like what I see. I don’t like myself, so I don’t want to be me anymore. I’m so tired of it. And I feel like everyone else is, too. Everyone is tired of my shit, so I thought I’d just do you all a favor and disappear.”

Your words stunned Koushi into silence. He remained resting in your lap for a few long seconds before he felt something hot and wet roll down his cheek. A tear. But not his own.

He looked up just in time for another one of your tears to land on his face, right underneath his eye. Quickly, he sat up and tenderly cupped your face in his hands, gently brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “Oh, (Y/N)... c’mere. That’s such bullshit.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you hiccupped as he pulled you into his lap by your waist-- facing him-- and gingerly tucked your head into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this. It’s gross, I know.”

“It’s not gross,” said Koushi, fiercely hugging you to his chest. “It’s much better than watching you try to pretend like you’re fine. I don’t care if your snot gets on my shirt-- that’s a small price to pay. So long as I can be there for you right now.”

You cried harder, immense guilt racking your body at his inexplicable kindness. “I’ve been treating you terribly these past few months, but you’re still so good to me. Goddamnit, Koushi. I don’t deserve you.”

Koushi pulled you back by the shoulders, narrowed eyes searching your face, though tears continued to stream down your cheeks. “(Y/N). You don’t have to earn my love.”

“I-- love?” you asked, eyes wide. You snatched a tissue from Koushi’s bedside table and blew your nose loudly.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, without missing a beat. “I said it. I love you. And don’t ask if I mean in a friend way or a girlfriend way, because the answer is neither. I love you like you’re the person I wanna spend the rest of my life with. I don’t care if that means as, like, your husband or just as your best friend. Whatever I can get, I’m happy with, because I love you like you’re a part of me. Unconditionally. I thought you knew that.”

“Please, don’t say that,” you sobbed, covering your face with your hands. “I’m not good enough for you. I’m really not.”

Koushi pulled your hands away so he could look you in the eye. “What don't you understand about the term ‘unconditional love’? It’s unconditional. There is literally nothing you nor anyone else can say or do to change that. Unconditional love is not a feeling, it’s a choice, and I’ve made that choice. I’ve had nearly two decades to think about it, so now I’m telling you I will love you no matter what. I always have, alright? This isn’t exactly how I wanted to say it, but it’s true.”

You stared at him, disbelieving. You hadn’t known he’d felt this way. Of course, you two had been partners-in-crime your entire lives, and you couldn’t count the number of times he’d materialized at your side as soon as you were in the slightest bit of trouble. Whenever you were a dollar short at the canteen, he’d stuff a five in your hand and push you towards the front of the line. That time you went camping with his family and you forgot your sleeping bag, he’d given you his and spent the night shivering. He always carried an extra pen for you because yours often inexplicably ran out of ink in the middle of a test. He’d been there for every crush, boyfriend, and breakup, cheering you on and drying your tears when the time came. He’d been there when your pet dog died and you planned a funeral in your backyard, complete with a little cardboard headstone, holding an umbrella above your head when it began to rain but you weren’t done mourning. He’d just always been there when you needed him.

You’d tried to be there for him, too, because, as you had begun to realize, his pain was your pain and vice versa. That time when you were six and he’d lost his favorite stuffed animal (a giraffe) it had felt like you’d lost yours too. That day in junior high when he fell out of the oak tree trying to retrieve a stray frisbee and broke his arm, you swore you felt the same pain in yours. Last year when he got dumped outside the gym on Valentine’s Day and you found him sitting in a corner, trying to hide the fact he’d obviously been crying-- you’d stayed late to crack stupid jokes and eat the chocolate he meant to give to his girlfriend, because he deserved a girl who would eat the damn chocolate. Not stomp on his heart and leave it to bleed. I love you like you’re a part of me. You understood.

“It’s okay to not be okay sometimes, but it’s not okay to bundle it all up and bury it deep inside when you have someone right next to you wanting to help you bear that burden.” Koushi’s voice shook just slightly. “It just… it hurts to see you like this, okay? (Y/N), if you love me back, then let me help you. Let me be there for you. Please.”

You were silent for a moment, staring into his pleading eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes.

Then you took a deep breath and started laughing through the tears. You were sure you looked insane, puffy eyes, red nose, and mascara running down your cheeks, but it didn’t matter. “I do. I love you, too. I love you. I didn’t know I loved you before, but now I do, because if you were torn away from me that heartbreak would probably kill me. No, it would definitely kill me. And it would hurt like a motherfucker while it did.”

Koushi let out the breath he’d been holding then, after a brief pause, began to laugh with you as you laced your arms around the back of your neck. “Oh, yeah? Well, losing you would probably hurt like a father-fucker to me.”

“Is that worse than a motherfucker?” you asked, giggling at the ridiculousness of it all. Here you were, bawling on the floor of your best friend’s room while you confessed your love to one another and cussed each other out at the same time.

“For sure. It’s a million times worse than a motherfucker. It’s like, if something hurting like a motherfucker is the equivalent of getting shot by a Nerf gun, something hurting like a fatherfucker probably feels like getting run over by a tank.” Koushi intertwined his fingers with yours yet again and smiled.

“You’re a dumbass,” you said, but you laughed anyways as Koushi looked proud of himself.

“I know,” he said softly, affectionately. “But I’m your dumbass.”

You sighed and shook your head. “I’d love you to be. But you could still do so much better than me--”

“Will you stop saying that, already?” Koushi took your face in his hand, stroking his thumb right beneath your eye. “You’re the most radiant person I’ve ever met. Notice how I didn’t say ‘beautiful’ because the word beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Although you are that, too.”

“Oh, goodness. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again-- you’re so sappy.”

Koushi rolled his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, I am. You like it though.”

“You caught me,” you said as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You leaned into it, savoring the warmth of his lips on your skin. “I do.”

“But really, (Y/N),” he said seriously. “It astounds me that you don’t realize that.”

“Don’t realize what?”

“That you’re cool! You’re so cool and fun and awesome. And a zillion other adjectives I could sit here and list out for hours. You’re the only person who can make me laugh when I cry, and you make the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted, and you’re a literal god at Mario Kart, and you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever had the privilege to look into.” You flushed as Koushi thought for a moment, chewing on his lip before his eyes widened. “It’s kinda like a circus mirror, I think.”

“What?” You furrowed your brow.

“The way you see yourself is like someone looking into one of those circus mirrors. It makes you look too tall, or really squished, or just bent out of shape in general. And if that was the only mirror you’d ever looked into, you’d probably think that ugly, distorted reflection is how you actually look in real life. You can’t see yourself for how amazing you really are-- but everyone else can.”

“Well, aren’t you just full of relevant analogies today?” you teased. A circus mirror. Now that was something new. You had to give Koushi credit for the comparison-- it actually did kind of make sense.

“What can I say?” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’m a poet.”

“So I guess that would make you my real mirror then?” you offered shyly. Koushi looked confused for a second. “If the way I see myself is supposedly ‘distorted,’ then you can reflect to me how I supposedly really am.”

“Oh, yes!” he said happily. “I’m the mirror. I like that. Quit talking like you don’t believe me, though. You’re incredible. A little thick-skulled sometimes, yes, but incredible nonetheless.”

“It’s going to be hard for me,” you said quietly, gently running a hand through his hair. “Really hard. I haven’t liked myself for a long time.”

“I know. I know. But someday, you’ll be able to understand what a beautiful human being you are. I’m sure of it. I need you to promise you won’t give up until that happens.”

He held out his pinky for a pinky swear, something you two did frequently as children. You smiled and laced your pinky with his. “Alright. I promise.”

“Good.” Koushi stood up, brushed the wrinkles from his pants, and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you up. “Listen. Do you remember this song?”

His little playlist had been playing this entire time. You hadn’t noticed. You strained to catch the lyrics. “Turn it up a little, I can’t quite hear.”

...a stereo

It beats for you, so listen close

Hear my thoughts in every note

“Koushi.” A slow smile spread across your face. “Tell me this isn’t Stereo Hearts.”

“Oh, this is Stereo Hearts alright!” he responded gleefully. He took your hand and spun you around like a ballroom dancer, catching you before you tripped over his bedside table. “You remember when we--”

“When we performed it at the junior high talent show and got booed off the stage?” You giggled, remembering that awful night that was somehow hilarious in retrospect. “I still have nightmares about that.”

Koushi continued to swing you around in some sort of clumsy dance, pulling you this way and that while you laughed wildly. “It’s ‘cause you were such a shit singer.”

You gasped in mock offense. “No way! You’re a much worse singer than I am. At least I can carry a tune.”

Koushi just rolled his eyes and grabbed a hairbrush from his shelf, using it like a microphone. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and began to serenade you in his terrible, tone-deaf manner.

Make me your radio

Turn me up when you feel low

This melody was meant for you

Just sing along to my stereo

“God, you really do suck at this,” you said, but he just smiled and kept singing. You had to admit, it was sweet. As silly as the memory associated with the song was, it remained a nostalgic favorite even now. You had to join in a few times, just for memory’s sake.

I only pray you never leave me behind

Because good music can be so hard to find

Koushi sat down next to you and wound one arm around your waist, leaning close.

I take your hand and pull it closer to mine

Thought love was dead, but now you're changing my mind

You turned and leaned in too, nearly touching noses.

“Hey,” he said in an almost whisper. “(Y/N) (L/N), I love you.”

“Hey,” you whispered back, gaze flitting down to his lips and back up again. “I love you, too, you sappy bastard.”

...so sing along to my stereo

“I know.” He closed the remaining inch of distance. Your hand tangled itself in his hair while his tugged your body a little closer.

The kiss was almost as good as the one in Uchimura’s closet all those years ago. Almost.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #anime #sugawara #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader

[fanfiction-inc]

If you are still doing the Ns/fw alphabet thing would I be able to request one of Higgs Monaghan?

Oh, but of course! Now I must apologize to you and everyone else for the delay! I have finally been able to finish up some things for college and have a slow period to get some stuff done! I hope you enjoy this!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It all depends on the relationship he is having with the one he’s fucking. If it’s a one night stand, he has no obligation to clean up the other party, much less show them kindness or deliver niceties on his way out. He simply will redress, and leave whoever they are. Something more than a fling, like a friends/enemies with benefits or standard relationship warrants far more sweetness from the terrorist. He’ll wipe you down, clean you up of any mess and offer the sweetest praises. Now this man, despite all the terrible shit he has done, is the sweetest pillow talker, holding you as if he’ll never see you again and reminding you of what you mean to him. He hardly has quality relationships, so having you as a friend (or enemy with benefits) or partner is what he values most.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part is of course that damn silver tongue he uses to charm you like always and the mouth it resides in. Be it the nicest words you’ll ever hear or the filthiest, he savors how it makes you react. The stammering or stern and silent look away when you blush. The subtle press of thighs or move of an object to cover a ‘growing’ problem. He loves it all. He also loves what he can do with that mouth and tongue that could get you going. Licking along a hot shaft with kitten like flicks of his tongue, or along folds that hold the honey pot he wishes to steal from.

It doesn’t matter the shape, size, or prominence, but Higgs will always be an ass man. Be it cupping it, squeezing it, using it to get a rise or having his cock buried deep, he will always love a good ass. He tends to be more sexual with asses when his partner is male (or presenting male), often finding moments like those intimate in the guy category. The ass on a woman (or presenting woman) is often more for holding, especially for stability when his tongue is buried deep in them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Anywhere. Literally fucking anywhere. You want it inside you? Done! Want it down your throat? He’ll go right ahead! Want it covering your face or body? He’ll do his damnedest! He loves the sensation of filling you, but fucking hell does he love how it looks on your body and how it decorates you. Of course he finds humor if it gets in your hair or misses you from a wrong angle, but that’s the playfulness in him talking.

Now him taking any form of cum? That’s a different story. He is absolutely okay with cum inside him or down his throat, but he despises spitting it out or having it leak from him. It’s an intimate act to take such from his partner, so he’ll practically beg for it as long as you’re willing to give it!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This Particle of God who permeates all existence is by simple definition, a slut. Now, I say slut with all the love I have for him in the world, but it is quite true. Higgs is by far the biggest example of ‘switch’ energy. He wants to be used like a toy, wants to be used for the sake of giving others pleasure. Tie him up, decorate him in leather. Give him a few healthy smacks to the ass, but just know if he’s the dominating force in the relationship, he may never admit such. It’s something he prefers to keep to himself until he finds the perfect partner to open up to about it, so it remains his dirty secret.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Higgs has had some good flings in his time, allowing experience with both men and women alike and giving him a rather good sense of what he’s doing. He’s learned just what his tongue can do, how his words can make the body react. And when he rolls his hips just the right way, oh, he gets the idea and knows how to manipulate it.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Oh, he could never start off without without a good bit of foreplay. Typically with any partner, Higgs prefers a good bit of face sitting or ‘69’ play, though his main objective is to focus on his partner's pleasure. Anything he can do to get his partner off first, he will attempt to do.

When it comes to his partners, the positions vary. Up against a wall, he’d have their legs wrapped around him and fucking up into them. Don’t forget the wandering fingers to a sensitive clit or hand to a weeping dick. Laying down, it’s a toss up between missionary or spooning. Missionary is often used when he wants to keep his gaze locked with his partner's own, where as spooning is for those moments where he wants to hold his partner close. When he’s spooning, this can be for intimacy purposes where he goes slow and deep, keeping the moment drawn on to savor you or your body. But in other times, it’s the moment to jackhammer his hips into you until you’re a shaking mess. On your knees, and he has you in doggy. This position is also used more often for flings where no eye contact has to be made and is quick enough to be over and done with.

Now for himself, especially if it’s with a male/male presenting partner or during an intense pegging session, he’ll be begging for a form of missionary. He much prefers holding his legs up towards himself so his bum is presented to his partner. If you include a nice hand job while fucking him, then he’s done for in that position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

This man is not only a switch in the dom/sub realm, but he also is in the serious/humorous realm as well. Higgs is often very humorous when it comes to sex, finding ways to make it fun and carefree. He’ll crack jokes, chuckle if something doesn’t go quite right, but above all, he’ll find it fucking hilarious if you joke back. Playful banter is all part of the fun, but sometimes the moment deserves some serious focuses. If his partner is ever down on themselves or their bodies, he’s serious in the moment. He will make fucking sure that they know what they do to him, but also how beautiful/handsome their body is. All encouragement and softness, but lacking the humorous tone. Then, there is the time were the two collide, where pleasure is the main goal.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Grooming isn’t usually a big concern to him, but he does do it here or there. Just like the stubble that grows on his chin, he sometimes just lets it go until it’s so long and thick that it must be taken care of, just like the onsets of a beard. The color is just as dark as his hair, but a little curled as compared to the well kept nature of his hair on top of his head.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

It truly depends on the partner. If this is a one night stand, Higgs won’t hesitate to call it a quick fuck and move on. He’s not going to give his attention or devotion to a person who doesn’t deserve the full on ‘Higgs Monaghan experience’, but if he feels it may be going somewhere, then expect some kisses or sweet words. Maybe even expect a bit of his strong façade to slip in the process.

Now, if you’re his friend/enemy with benefits, or his partner, then here comes the fucking romance train. Sweet, lingering kisses. Gentle brushes along one's skin followed by an unlimited amount of devotion and praise. He will worship the very ground you walk on as long as he gets a piece of you in some way, shape, or aspect. His love will show in every act, even if it’s a quickie or just a straight up fucking session. He may not be too brash, but his reminders will come at a constant, mixed in with lewd conversation and grunted notions.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Being in his clothes, be it his mask or just his cloak, is the best material he can go to for jacking off. Be it imagining you on your back, hands going to work on whatever gets you off while the fabric bunches beneath you, or the idea of you being in control, being ‘him’. Fuck, does it get his mind going and hand going even faster. The easiest thing to do in those moments is to call you up for some straight up dirty talk. If he’s going to be going after release, he wants you to do the same too (or tease the hell out of you until you’re on the brim and need him, because the cocky bastard loves that shit.)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

BDSM (Bondage, Masochism, and Sadism mostly), Breath Play, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Face Sitting (partner and him), Impact Play, Knife/Weapon Play, Odaxelagnia, Orgasm Denial/ Control, Pegging/Anal, Praise Kink, Strap-on Play (to him), Teasing, Voyeurism, and Worship Kink.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

ANYWHERE. Literally fucking anywhere. He will do it at the Homo Demens base camp, right outside of a Bridges delivery location, or even in the middle of timefall (of course with proper coverage. He would never want you to get hurt by the timefall, nor the BT’s, but it does make it interesting to see how quiet you can stay when they begin to move about. It’s always with an underlying sense of danger or excitement of getting caught that fuels him. But this doesn't stop him when it comes to being home.

When with the Homo Demens, his room at base camp is an often place as well as the community showers. The bunker of Peter Englert, though smaller than a whole base, offers many places as well. These stationary places are his favorite for privacy and intimacy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your body, no matter what, is always an automatic turn on. Especially if there is exposed skin involved that he can hold onto or kiss at. He is a total ass man, always loving to grab at it or just keep his hand there when talking. Your ass, watching it as you walk or beneath him sends blood rushing down below and he may as well cum in his pants at this rate because holy fuck, is that ass perfection. He will worship that ass, constantly wanting to caress it or have a handful if you’re on his lap. Your hands are the next thing. Be them wrapped around his cock, grabbing at the sheets beneath you, or simply cupping his cheek in the afterglow, your hands are always the sweetest thing because they can do so many things that can make him fall apart at the seams.

What REALLY gets him going is being taken care of. Higgs is touch starved all to hell, and when he gets any sign of affection or sweetness from you, be it cuddling or kind words, he feels like he’s floating on a damn cloud. When he is being submissive, or is the bottom in the relationship, It’s especially a turn on when being taken care of leads to praise in the bedroom.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will ABSOLUTELY refuse to involve any form of piss or scat in your play. It is an automatic turn off and he may as well be the cause of another voidout just from the mere recommendation of it. He can’t stand the idea of it. Higgs is into a lot of things, but those two will never fall under his category of things that get him going and needy.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

BOTH! BOTH! BOTH! He is an absolute lover of giving and receiving oral! And he isn’t too shabby at it once he gets used to how your body reacts.

When it comes to giving oral, he goes between a mixture of teasing and driving you mad with that damn tongue. Depending on the relationship you share with him, he either dives right in or takes his time with it. If he wants to, he’ll map out your sex, taking in how hard/wet you are, finding what bits make you mewl the loudest or give him the desired effect. He’ll go slow with his tongue, dragging it until you’re trying to get your cock either inside his mouth or his tongue on your clit (either way, he’ll leave you squirming). When he finally gives you what you want, being lavishing your core or sucking you off, he’s at it and he will go until you’re trembling and begging for no more, to which he’ll get one or more out of you just to prove the point that he can.

When it comes to receiving, he is always down for such, but he is more likely to be down for it if he's the submissive partner in the relationship. He would rather worship and tease when in a dominant position. Taking care of you is the best thing in his mind. But being taken care of? Now that is what drives him absolutely wild. He is sensitive when it comes to the tip of his cock being played with, and will fall apart if it's played with.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends on his mood. If he is wanting to be in a kind and sweet mood, he’s slow and passionate, He’ll take his time to make sure you feel nice and good. Keeping eye contact and sweet praising as he takes you, gentle kisses followed by accented thrust that go just deep enough but not too fast to make it fucking. No, that in his mind is perfect for something he isn’t used to, which is love making. If it needs to be quick, or in his mind it’s a sexual punishment, he will be rougher, or faster with you. He’ll fuck you raw and leave you a mess. Either way you’ll be a mess when you’re with Higgs.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He usually has more time for quickies, as he is the entity trying to bring on the next mass human extinction. Of course he loves a good session of proper sex, being able to take his time with you or give you a chance to properly take him. But sometimes those are short lived moments, interrupted halfway through or being stopped before being able to bask in the afterglow because he has to leave. Duty calls, after all. His favorite places for them are generally at the Homo Demens camp, or on the go in some risky area that could accidentally get you guys caught.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

This fucker practically screams risk. Be it public excursions or a new tactic in the bedroom, he’s game. If you want to try something a little more dangerous with him, or something far more kinky then you two already do, he is down. He will always give you a chance to try things with him, and sometimes he’ll see what he can do to help expand your comfort zones by suggesting new situations or experiences. Maybe trying more intensive bondage would be the step up he would try with you from the light bondage you two may already do. Maybe he wants you to try choking him, or maybe YOU want to try choking him. Either way, he is always up for experimentation.

This man, being the exhibitionist he is, is obsessed with the thrill of potentially or actually being caught in the act. It’s something that he would GLADLY introduce you to if he had the chance, wanting that to be the first big experiment if you aren’t already into it. Now mind you, he will respect (generally) your boundaries on most things, but this is one thing that absolutely screams fun in his mind, and it’s so damn risky because you never know who is gonna see!

“Oops, didn’t see ya there Sammy! We’ll just finish up here.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

It really depends on the play and the partner. Higgs is a man who can go perhaps three or four rounds at the most, having stamina like a beast if he’s really hyped up for it. Usually this happens when he is in the domineering position, having full control over himself, and whatever control you’ll allow over you, be it full or less than full control.

When he is the bottom, taking whatever is being given to him, he’ll last two rounds at the most because let's face it, Higgs can become overstimulated quickly if the right touches and praises are given. Use the right sensation or hammer down on him when you fuck, and he’ll be a puddle of incoherent speech and needy rambling. Now this doesn't mean you can’t get more out of him, but he’ll be less likely to be as coherent as if he is in full control of the situation.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh he most certainly owns them, and he most certainly uses them when he wants to. He’s the kind of guy that if he doesn’t have a partner close by, and he wants to spice up a dirty call or get himself off quicker than he can with his hand, toys are the way to go. Be it dildos, vibrators, anything of the likes, he uses them and he will gladly use them on you or let you use them on him.

He doesn’t usually like using toys in every session, though. Sometimes feeling skin instead of whatever material the toy is is sooooo much better to him because he issued you and he wants to fuck properly. Now if you’re a person who requires the extra stimulation from a toy while you’re enjoying each other, then by all means, he’ll incorporate it somehow so that you get exactly what you need. Some people just need that extra push, and he is happy to supply!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Excuse me, have you met this man? He is the ultimate tease! Especially publicly. He loves to get you hot and bothered or embarrassed and riled up when he’s around. Sinfully delicious comments against your ear or tracing motions through your clothes until you’re needy and he leaves you like that until you’re alone. In the bedroom, he will do whatever it takes to have his partner either be a begging mess or be so fed up with him that he gets exactly what he wants.

For a submissive partner, he likes to use his tongue the most to tease. Trailing along your chest, or over sensitive nipples. Light flicks to extra sensitive areas below the belt, be it the tip or sweet spot on a cock or the bundle of nerves between a woman's legs. Light kisses or nips to the inner thighs just to get you squirming, that man will do so until you get a bite to your voice or just needy enough to give you what you want. Then again, sometimes he likes the torture of continuing the teasing until you’re vision is blurry with tears and you can’t utter any other word than ‘please’.

With dominant partners, he will make every move or command he gets into a tease. Taking his clothing off too slowly, tracing his tongue too long or not putting enough pressure. Sometimes his kisses will pull away too quickly as to tease you. But that teasing is gone the moment you put him in his place, then he is the most compliant creature ever.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make

He is like a fucking air raid siren when he’s being taken, but his volume isn’t nearly as when he’s doing the taking over having someone on top of him in the form of riding. He’ll moan, that is for sure, but the most common noises are the high pitched hitches in his breathing or the grunts that come when he’s pistoning his hips to bring you over the edge. He may give a growl if the fucking is more aggressive, or he may release and airy chuckle from time to time if you two are having more fun than seriousness.

W = Wild Card (Random Headcanon)

He is more than happy to dress in some kind of outfit for your sexual encounters. Be it a Bridges outfit because he knows you get off from him playing as the unknown stranger at Bridges, Peter Englert, or a Fragile uniform because fuck do you love leather, he’s down. He’ll happily wear panties if you like him in feminine undergarments, happily dress with cock cages and leather straps if you want to see him in such. He’ll even stay in the mask if you ask, but when it comes to dressing up, he isn’t limited to dressing himself. He absolutely adores when you wear his mask, or wearing his cloak to cover your nude form.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He may not be the longest or the girthiest, but Higgs has a nice package. He’s about six inches long when fully erect, so about average (in American standards). He can go from well trimmed to near unmanageable depending on his mood, and also the partner. Some prefer hairless, some don’t mind the all natural look.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pfft. Have you met this needy man? I mean seriously? He is OBSESSED with sex. Borderline nymphomaniac if you must, Higgs is constantly down for a good time as long as he has time. His big plans for the end of existence come first, but he will gladly give you his all or take whatever is given as long as he gets to enjoy it. He may ask for company more often than once a day given the day, or sometimes he’ll wait till it’s a time restrained time for you and get as much as he can until you just HAVE to do whatever it is you do. He can wait, but it only gets him more hyped for whatever will happen next, and sometimes it’s torture to him with waiting too long.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Out like a fucking lightbulb. He may stay up for a few for some aftercare either giving or receiving, maybe even some light banter, but generally he’s so worn out that he is O.U.T out! That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like to stay up and chat the night away. Sometimes he does, sometimes he falls asleep like a light sleeping rock, and other times he’s having to redress to start whatever is next in his grand plan.

#higgs monaghan x reader #higgs monaghan #death stranding #lovely anon #thank you anon #anon ask

[mrsalwayswrite]

Letters From War (Ron Speirs x reader)

Here is Part 3 of my Eye Candy series! Yes, Eye Candy was supposed to be a one-shot but I’m having too much fun with their dynamics. 

And because sometimes you just need some soft!Speirs in your life. 

Warnings: Speirs being a secret softy and some jealousy, a couple swear words

Words: 3500

Eye Candy series masterlist

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m and @softspeirs​ (because I mentioned this earlier to you)

Sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains, casting the hotel room in a soft glow. A subtle ticking of the clock was the loudest sound in the room. Laying there in the silky sheets felt divine. No one was screaming orders outside of the barracks as they ran their platoon. One of my fellow nurses was not shuffling around inside trying to be quiet but failing as they slammed their stuff on a cot or on the hard floor. No, it was blissfully quiet. Something I had not realized how much I missed until I started my training at Camp Toccoa and was constantly surrounded by others. 

 I rolled over onto my side, eyes bleary from having just woken up. Peeking at the clock on the far wall, I could see the little hand pointing at the eleven. Not what I was hoping to see. My weekend pass meant I did not have to be back to base until this evening but if I did not get up now, I might go AWOL just to lounge around in these sheets with the sunlight warming me. 

 I groaned quietly as I sat up, the soft sheets sliding down my naked body. There was a freeing feeling with sleeping naked. Not that I did it often. Or ever. But the few times I had...I could see the appeal of it being a regular occurrence. Especially with these sheets. Were they made from cherub’s wings? Nothing could be as soft and silky as these sheets. I promised myself after the war, if I made it, I would buy myself a set. Something to look forward to.  

 As quietly as I could, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand up when a deep, gravelly voice stilled my movements. 

 "Where you think you're goin'?" 

 I smiled at how perturbed he sounded. Glancing over my shoulder, he still lay on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, face buried in it. It was amazing he did not accidentally suffocate himself. "Ron, it's eleven already."

 He grumbled, words muffled by the pillow. "So?"

 "We need to get up soon."

 "You said that two hours ago when we woke up."

 "And yet, we're still in bed."

 "Mmm…" He tipped his head to the side so one of his half-lidded eyes could glare at me. "I don't see the problem."

 "Well some of us can't be lazy like...Ahhh!!" I squealed when an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back, moving far too fast for someone who just supposedly woke up. Abruptly, I found myself with my head back on the pillow and a broody Lieutenant hovering over me. His bare chest was only inches above mine; and although I could not see it, I could feel that he had not put his Army issued skivvy back on. Just that realization alone bloomed a warmth in my belly. 

 "You were saying?" He said with a smug look. 

 "We need to get up."

 "Mmm…" He slowly inched his head down, meeting my eyes until his lips trailed down my neck, leaving butterfly kisses. 

 Without a conscious thought, I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, loving being under his touch. A small part of my brain berated me for not getting up while I still could. There were things I had planned on doing with my day. But an open mouth kiss on my collarbone caused a moan to fall from my lips and all thoughts of escaping his hold to fly away. 

 "You were saying?" He repeated. 

 Through the slowly growing, lust-fuel haze in my mind, I tried to remember why it was so important to leave the bed. "Was I?"

 He chuckled, the feeling of it reverberating in my chest. With a quick peck to my lips, he laid his head on my chest, half his body weight on me and an arm wrapped around my waist possessively. I started carding my fingers through his hair, humming softly as we lay there together. The sheets were rumpled around his waist, the only thing keeping me warm was his body. A peacefulness descended. Something very rare in preparation for war. It only encouraged neither one of us to leave the bed, else that peace vanish and reality sink back in.  We laid there silently for some time, the only sounds being our breathing and the ticking of the clock.

 My thoughts swirled in my mind about the coming weeks. So many unknowns lay before us, like a minefield that we had to walk through. We just had to keep moving forward.

 "We leave on the train tomorrow." I stated, staring up at the ceiling. My fingers continued carding through his hair. I would never tell a soul but I knew the feeling immediately relaxed him. Whenever I started doing it, he would practically go limp on me and lay there like a cat sunbathing. 

 "Mmm."

 "Do you know where we are going?"

 "Yes."

 I swatted him lightly on the shoulder. Of course, he knew. He had the uncanny ability to always be where information was being shared, even if it was not directly relevant to him. It would not surprise me if he snuck into the intelligence officers' offices at night and peeked through their papers. Though I would never tell him that. Plausible deniability is a glorious thing. 

 When he refused to answer, I swatted him again. Immediately, he growled and nipped at the valley between my breasts, making me squeak. Before I could incite or escape his further wrath, he settled himself back on top of me. When I made no further move, he roughly grabbed my hand and placed it back on the top of his head. I smirked up at the ceiling, and followed his silent order. Perhaps in a past life he had been a cat. It would explain some of the moodiness. 

 "Tell me." My fingers slipped through his hair, occasionally scraping his scalp, making him hum. "Please."

 "I overheard Nixon talking to Sink." He tilted his head to look at me, those dark, piercing eyes meeting mine. "New York."

 I connected the dots in my head. "Europe?"

 He made no reply as he continued to stare at me, rubbing his thumb along my ribs.

 "Can I write to you?"

 I felt him stiffen slightly. We had never defined what was between us. Obviously there was attraction and passion, the bruises on my hips and the half-moon indents on his back attested to that. Yet there was also a peaceful companionship I think neither of us expected. He would listen to me ramble about things we learned in class and different techniques to use in the field or the silly things my friends and I had done. On the rare occasion he would vent about one of his men and their stupidity. But I knew he was trying not to make attachments. There was a solid steel wall around his heart he had raised as soon as he stepped foot in Camp Toccoa. He knew his superiors would die. His men would die. He could possibly die. It would be easier to not know their hopes and dreams, their stories and fears. There was one thing we both knew but never acknowledged. 

 Somehow, I was the exception to his rule.

 As we laid there, I tried not to let his silence bother me. I knew it was a long shot to even ask him. I would not be entirely surprised if he said no. We were not even sure that our paths would cross again. I was to be stationed as a nurse for the paratroopers but it had not been finalized for which battalion. 

 Finally he spoke, looking just over my head the whole time he had been thinking. "Let me think about it."

 "Um, ok… well if I meet some other fella who sweeps me off my feet and writes…"

 He leaned up and kissed me soundly, interrupting my potential future plan. 

 "You can't just kiss me to keep me from talking. That's rude." I huffed when he finally allowed me to breathe again. 

 "No." He stated flatly.

 "No? You don't want me writing to someone else, no? I've already had a few soldiers ask if they could write to me."

 "No."

 "Ron, that's not how this works. If you don't want me writing to you, that tells me you're done with me. I don't do one-night stands."

 He quirked an eyebrow, stupid smirk on those kissable lips. 

 I blushed, swatting him again. "You know what I mean." This was not our first rendezvous together where we snuck away from others while on a weekend pass. 

 He sighed, dropping his head back on my chest. "And if something happens to me."

 "Then I'll mourn but I'll keep doing my job. Who knows? I might even miss you."

 He chuckled then lay quietly. I thought he had fallen asleep until he spoke up, so softly I almost did not catch it. "No one was supposed to miss me."

 "Mmm," I hummed, tracing the muscles on his back with my finger. In a spur of the moment decision, I decided to be honest, my whisper hanging in the air above us. "Too late...I don't think I can help it now."

 We lay there contently for a time, just basking in our own thoughts, the warmth of the morning sun and each other's body. 

 "Ron, we really need to get up…. stop ignoring me."

 He grumbled then suddenly rolled fully on top of me, pressing open-mouth kisses on my neck and chest. "One more."

 "How do you have the energy for one more? Christ! Is it possible to die from so many orgasms?"

 He froze, slowly his eyes met mine. I knew that look.  

 "No...no, Ron, NO! That wasn't a challenge...please, oh, shit!" 

 As I tried to wiggle away from him, he pinned my hips down with his arm and with that dark, seductive look which sent my heart racing, he lowered his face to where I could feel myself throbbing for him. 

 Needless to say, we did not leave that bed until the afternoon. 

 *****

 The train car rattled along the track, the forests and open fields of the East Coast passed by in a blur. Honestly, at this point I had no idea what state we were even in. Somewhere on our way to New York. Then troopship. Then England. 

 Soon war. 

 It was a weird feeling. We had been training and preparing for it. Gathering all the knowledge we could and practicing saving lives until our backs cramped from being bent over pretend bodies and our fingers almost bled from the constant chafing of bandages, syringes and textbooks against them. Yet now on the cusp of war, I felt wholly unprepared. 

 Pushing the thought away, I rubbed my tired eyes. I picked up my pencil, continuing to try and write a letter to my folks back home before one of the girls found me. I had been sitting in a train car with Lucy, Mary and Rebecca. After a while of listening to them gossip and talk amongst themselves and with the other nurses nearby, I decided to step away. I claimed I needed the quiet to write my letter. Truthfully, I just needed some quiet. I loved those ladies but Christ could they be LOUD. 

 Staring at the paper in my lap, words seemed to fail. How do I tell my family about everything I was preparing for? All my fears? All my hopes? All my worries? Do I lie and pretend everything is alright? 

 "Keep it simple." I muttered. With a sharp inhale, my pencil met the paper. 

 Dear Dad and Mom, 

 I hope everyone is doing well. I miss everyone. Sometimes I find myself thinking about home and wonder how soon it'll be till I see it. And you guys, of course. 

My friends are doing well. Mary has been showing off a picture of her newest nephew to all the nurses. I don’t know how I would have survived all this training without them. They help keep my spirits up during this time. And do not worry, dad, no one has proposed yet. Well, this week at least. There will be no ring on my finger until the war is over. 

Just last week we were learning about different types--

 "This spot taken?" A rough, rasping voice asked, disturbing my concentration. 

 I looked up to see a paratrooper standing at the end of my bench seat. I was surprised but wondered if maybe he just needed a space away from his buddies. Most of the other benches and seats were filled up with paratroopers in this train car, a good amount of them sleeping, writing their own letters or gambling. The few voices eased into the background as I sat there, making me momentarily forget I was not actually alone. 

 "No, it's open." I slid further down, closer to the window. Across from me was a different paratrooper I thought I recognized from Fox Company. He had been in a deep sleep even before I sat across from him, if the small puddle of drool and soft snores said anything. 

 "Thank you, ma'am. It's damn near impossible to find a quiet spot on this train." He dropped down onto the bench, removing his garrison cap. 

 I hummed, returning my eyes to the letter. Maybe I should not mention the proposals, even if they were all in jest. Though thinking about them brought up images of a pair of intense, dark eyes and strong hands that had come to know my body almost as well as I did. A blush warmed my cheeks at the thought. 

 It had been several weeks since we first began seeing each other. In public, we continued in our separate roles. Ron was not one for public affection, even if he always glared a hole in the head of any man he caught talking with me. I had heard through the rumor mill that word spread- I was Speirs' girl, even if no one ever saw us interact in that way. If Speirs purposefully started the rumor or my friends did after seeing the hickeys he left on my neck the first time... either way, the flirting and catcalls involving me dropped to a minimum. 

 In private, when we could sneak away or secretly meet up...he had no problem showering physical affection on me until I was seeing stars and melted into a puddle in his arms. 

 I wondered where he was on the train. Before I got on, I caught a glimpse of him directing some of his men on the platform. There were so many unknowns for us. My own feelings for him had grown like weeds since he kissed me. Part of me knew it was trouble. We were heading into war where nothing was certain. Yet the other part of me craved him. He was like no man I had ever known before. With one glimpse of him, my heart practically beat out of my chest. In his arms was quickly becoming my favorite place to be. I loved how there was never a need to fill the silence while with him. 

 Was this love?

 I shot that thought down before it could plant anywhere. Last time I talked to Ron, he never confirmed if I could even write to him. I knew being with me was not easy for him. Although he never explicitly said it, I wondered if he thought he was going to die during the war. 

 That rasping voice interrupted me once again. "I'm John Billings, Private first class, Baker Company."

 "Nurse Y/L/N." I nodded, glancing at him. Short, cropped blond hair, vibrant blue eyes, dimple on one cheek and broad shoulders. If he was inclined, he looked like he could bench-press me. He was attractive...but I was not interested. 

 "Ah, come on, you not gonna tell me your first name?"

 I shrugged, still keeping my gaze on my letter, hoping he would take the hint. 

 Apparently not. 

 "Any guesses on where we're heading? One of my buddies thinks Africa. I think we're headed to Italy or something like that. Either way, Nazis are gonna regret starting this thing when we come in and fucking finish it." He laughed. When I did not respond, he slid a little closer, legs spread wide like he owned the bench seat. "Where you from? You sound kinda like my ma."

 "I don't think that's your business."

 "Hey, doll, no reason to get upset. I'm just making small talk."

 "Well, I'm trying to write a letter."

 "Alright, I get it. I'll leave ya alone." He laid his arms on the back of the bench, on either side of him, staring towards the front of the train car. His hand lay right behind my shoulders, almost touching them. 

 I rolled my eyes. 

 Several more minutes went by and finally I finished my letter. Well, at least I could not think of anything else to write home about. I folded it up, stashing it and my pencil back into my satchel to mail once we reached New York. My last letter written in America. That thought scared me more than I cared to admit. 

 "Letter to a sweetheart?"

 "No," I replied. "Letter home."

 He nodded. "I need to do that myself or my ma will find me no matter where we are and spank me with her wooden spoon."

 I could not help the giggle that bubble up at the image evoked. "That sounds like my grandmother. I swear even the devil is terrified of her."

 He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling. 

 We both stilled when our sleeping companion shifted in his seat, running a hand over his face. Just as soon as he began moving, he stopped once again, snores filling the air. 

 I looked back out the window, watching the countryside pass. How soon would it be before I saw America again after I left? Would I ever? How much longer could this war drag on for? How different would I be when I returned home? Would my family even recognize me?

 "So, you gonna tell me your name yet, beautiful?" My other companion teased, sliding slightly closer. 

 Before I could open my mouth, a deep, husky voice spoke, sending shivers down my spine. "That's Nurse to you, Private."

 I looked over to see Ron standing in the walkway, arms crossed. His signature glare aimed at the paratrooper next to me. Death in his eyes. 

 My companion froze under the intense look, like prey just waiting for the predator's jaws to rip them apart. "Yes...ah, yes, sir."

 "I suggest you find yourself another seat."

 The Private scrambled out of his seat without a backward glance at me, mumbling something at Ron before briskly walking away and finding a seat further up the train car. 

 "Awww…. I think you scared him away."

 Ron stared at me for a moment before glancing around and settling into the seat just vacated. "Why aren't you with the other nurses?"

 "Just needed some quiet for a minute so I could write a letter home."

 He raised an eyebrow. That man could carry entire conversations with just his facial expressions. 

 "The Private came after I was already sitting." I explained, knowing that was what he wanted to know.

 He seemed to think it over before taking my hand in his. Something he had never done in public before. A small smirk teased his lips as he entwined our fingers. "Did you write home about me?"

 "No. Should I have?"

 He sat there quietly, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand. 

 "I thought about it." I admitted, looking at our hands. Though I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on my face, I did not meet it. "But… I did not want… they would think then…"

 "I want you to write me."

 My head shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. "Really? Are you sure?"

 He mock-glared at me.

 "Will you write me back?"

 To my endless surprise, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, leaving me speechless. "I'll think about it." He winked before getting up and smoothing back out his impeccable Class A uniform. "I'll find you when we arrive."

 "Ok." I answered meekly, my brain trying to understand what just happened. 

 With one more longing look, he nodded and started back down the train car, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. 

 He wanted me to write him...and he would write back! 

 And he kissed me. 

 In public! 

 To anyone else it may seem insignificant but for me...this was monumental. He was claiming me as his girl. Not just rumors anymore. It was ridiculous how my heart swelled at the thought. 

 A softly spoken "damn" made my head whip round to see the Private who had been sleeping now staring at me with eyes as big as saucers and mouth hanging open slightly. 

 "Damn." I echoed back, touching my lips, still in shock. 

 I was such a goner for him. Though, I could not find it anywhere in myself to be upset about that. 

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #fluff #soft!speirs

[firelordzukohere]

Interior Décor

Hello!

When I made this 4 chapters, I initially thought: “Oh 4 weeks? That’s a long time!”

Why didn’t anyone tell me it wasn’t that long!?! I feel like I just started this and I’m already sad it’s over! Please let me know if you want an epilogue or even some cute little one shots. I already have one in my head but I want to know if anyone would even be interested in it. Please let me know!

Finally,

Thank you everyone who read, re-blogged, liked, commented, or messaged me about this story. I haven’t posted a Zuko fanfiction since I was probably 15 years old and the support I received then wasn’t half as much as I have now. You guys are amazing and wonderful and every single notification I got made me smile brightly. I’d seriously get people asking me why I’m smiling at my phone so much. I’m so grateful to each and every one of you for everything, from my whole heart. Thank you so much. 

Please enjoy the last chapter of Interior Décor! I truly, truly hope you like it!

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Zuko X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Aangst(heh), and some implications

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Iroh felt it was time for the Palace to reflect the time of Peace and Love that Zuko promised five years earlier at his coronation. He takes it upon himself to hire an interior decorator to help his nephew out and work together. What he didn’t expect was for Zuko to possibly find his own peace and love in the process.

Chapter 3: Jacquard >> Chapter 4: Trompe l’oeil >> Epilogue

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up to a chasm in her chest the size of the Earth Kingdom. It was as if several Earthbenders decided to practice their bending inside of her and leave a massive chunk missing from within. She already yearned to see Zuko again.

Burying her face further into her pillow she moaned. Why did they have to get along so well? Why couldn't she have just worked with Iroh the whole time instead of the Fire Lord? Didn't he have people who were supposed to handle the menial stuff like her, instead of himself? She never considered the fact that all the advisors that would come up to him throughout the couple of weeks wouldn't really stay around much. They always seemed busy doing other things, leaving the Fire Lord to his own devices. Leaving him to spend his days with her, laughing, talking, comfortable silences, and dancing.

She remembered how it felt being led around the floor by him. The moment was so intimate, so right, and she wanted to dance with him all over again. It was like a cloud carried her around, a warm, attractive cloud.

Another groan escaped her lips before she pulled herself out of bed to go and make some tea. Her aunt was already outside meditating for the morning, so she had to be silent as she set the pot on its stand and bent some fire to warm it up.

The silence was disturbed when there were three knocks on their front door. Her aunt looked over at her, brows furrowed in confusion at who could be here this early in the morning.

(Y/N) walked toward the door and slid it open to reveal a courier holding a large package wrapped in intricate silk.

"(Y/N)?" He asked, and she nodded in confirmation. The man shoved the package into her hand before rushing back to his ostrich horse and riding away. She stared at him dumbfounded for a moment and then balanced the package in one hand, shutting the door with the other.

"Ooh! A gift! From the Fire Lord?" Her aunt gushed walking up behind her to examine the beautiful box. (Y/N)'s face burned before she moved to the counter to unwrap the present. She wasn't sure if she hoped it was from him or not. If it was, that meant her aunt could possibly spread more rumors about her having an affair with the Fire Lord, but if it wasn't she was sure there would be a twinge of sadness that this random encounter wasn't from him.

As she removed the silk, opened the box and lifted what was inside, she gasped. It was a beautiful dress, very obviously Fire Nation red, but golden lace lined the halter neckline, and the bodice was covered in red roses with green leafs. The skirt was massive as she continued to pull it from the box. Once the item was fully out she couldn't help but admire the beauty.

However, she was slightly annoyed. This must have cost him at least a hundred gold pieces. She knew she had told him that her wardrobe did not consist of a dress that would be acceptable for the celebration, but that didn't mean he had to go out and buy her a new one!

"Oooh look! There's sleeves!" Her aunt said next to her pulling out sleeves that were the same gold to match the neckline. "And a note!" She handed (Y/N) the note and looked at her intensely to see who it was from.

(Y/N),

You said you didn't have a gown and that's the reason you wouldn't come tonight. I had my tailors work over time to make you this because I cannot imagine spending this evening celebrating you, without you there. I will not make a big fuss about you, so you can slip in silently and leave whenever you feel, but please come, at least to see how amazed everyone is going to be at the site of your hard work. Please come, for me.

I truly hope to see you tonight.

Zuko

P.S. I know you're probably worried about my tailors, they were not overworked and have been overly compensated for their duties.  

(Y/N)'s face was as red as the gown as her aunt ripped the note from her hands to read it. With a gasp she looked up at her niece and grinned furiously.

"Exactly how close did you get with the Fire Lord during this time? You implied he was in meetings most of your work days." Her tone pointed and (Y/N) frowned. "Dear, this note isn't just a client 'Thank you' this appears to be a subtle declaration."

Grunting angrily, (Y/N) shoved the dress back into the box and snatched the note and the sleeves from her aunt, forcing them inside as well.

"It doesn't matter, I'm not going tonight anyway. It's highly unprofessional of me to go to this party especially in a dress the Fire Lord had specifically made for me," she grumbled. "I'll just return the garment tomorrow and explain to him how offensive it is for him to expect to buy my attendance to the celebration." Her voice a low hiss as she pushed passed her aunt and into her bedroom, sliding the door shut angrily.

Sitting on the bed, she stared down at the box in her hands. She wasn't exactly angry at Zuko's gift, but she was angry that now she was put in this position. If she went, her aunt would spread all over town that she and the Fire Lord had more than a professional relationship and if she didn't she would waste the tailors' hard work and possibly hurt Zuko.

Who cares what anyone else thinks?

His words rang in her mind as she stared at the golden lace. She honestly only cared what he thought and the fact that he wanted her to go tonight really resonated through her.

Please come, for me.

With a sigh, she placed the box down beside her and dropped her face into the palms of her hands. The internal battle she was dealing with was ripping her apart.

It was easier said than done to ignore what people thought and said about her. If she went tonight, the entire nation's eyes could possibly be watching, scrutinizing her and the Fire Lord.

What was she supposed to do?

Zuko's voice filled her mind once again, "We're supposed to do whatever makes us happy." Why was he always right? He was obviously learning from the notoriously wise Iroh and now passing that wisdom to her.

There was a knock on her door causing her to lift her face from her hands.

"Come in," she mumbled and watched as the door slid to the side and revealed her aunt holding a cup of the tea she had forgotten was brewing.

Sitting down beside her niece, her aunt handed her the cup and then sighed, the deep sound filling the tension stagnant room. While (Y/N) always had a great relationship with her aunt, a strain had formed when her aunt had spread the rumor about her and her first client. She wasn't sure if her aunt ever realized that their bond had weakened slightly, but she tried her best to act as if nothing was wrong.

"I know you know this," her aunt started, "but sometimes I struggle with keeping to myself. I've been alone for a long time. Your uncle died young, your mother and father shut me out after, insisting that I needed to find a new husband or I'd bring shame to the family, and my parents were never really around after your mother and I were married off. Any chance I can, to form a friendship, I take, even if it means hurting the people I love dearly in the process." The older woman frowned as she pat (Y/N)'s knee gently, "I've hurt you with my gossip, and I realize that. I was so excited for your new business and when I thought your first client could also potentially be someone to share your life with, I was happy for you..." trailing off, she couldn't help but sigh again, "but I didn't expect people to take what I had said and turn it into something to harm you. I didn't understand why these women began saying you were a homewrecker when it was common knowledge his wife had already left him. Instead of shutting those rumors down though, I made them worse, and in all honesty, it didn't stop me from creating new ones either."

(Y/N) felt the tears sting the corner of her eyes, begging to be freed from her, to relieve and soothe the pain she was enduring at the memories. They wanted to wash away the sadness. She loved her aunt, but the woman definitely caused a lot of hurt in her life. Even now, as she really did find herself fond of the Fire Lord, she couldn't help but hold back due to the idea that her aunt could spread rumors that would hurt her again. Instead of allowing her pain to show, she gulped down the tea, hoping that it would ease up some of the tension in her body. Once she finished she rested the cup on the bed and stared at her hands, waiting for her aunt to finish whatever she wanted to say.

"I hurt you when I accused you of having anything but a professional relationship with the Fire Lord. I know you're a strong woman who has had to battle many hardships in her life, especially when it comes to love and happiness, and I know I didn't make any of that easier on you even though I was supposed to. For that, I am genuinely sorry." Turning to the box next to her, she lifted the note out and handed it to (Y/N), "I think you should go." The woman whispered and (Y/N)'s head shot up to stare at her aunt. "He clearly cares for you, it's written in this note without even saying it outright. You've been even happier than normal these last couple of weeks whenever you wake up to go see him and when you come home after spending the day with him. I haven't seen that look since you first started your business and you shined at the opportunity to do something you loved. (Y/N) don't let this opportunity of love slip away, even if there is a risk of what people might say. Let them talk about you. As long as you're happy and you've got what you want, let them boil in their own gossip and rumors."

The sob escaped, and (Y/N) shoved her face into her aunt's neck, wrapping her arms around the older woman. Letting her niece cry it out, (Y/N)'s aunt rubbed her back reassuringly and held her tight.

"Thank you," (Y/N) whispered causing her aunt to smile and caress her hair as she pulled back.

"I love you, my dear," the woman smiled, and stood up quickly. "Now, we've got until sunset to get you dolled up and ready for this celebration. When you walk into that room, no one will be able to keep their eyes off of you, especially not that Fire Lord." Her aunt winked before pulling her up and dragging her out of the house toward the shopping district.

Just after sunset, (Y/N) was standing inside her house, dressed in her gown, with her hair curled and flowing around her face, only a small portion was pulled back into a proper bun with golden leaves pinned around it in a circle. She had gotten her makeup done, with golden and maroon hues to accent her dress, and simple gold sandals hidden underneath the dress for easy walking and dancing.

"You look like the queen of the Fire Nation," her aunt gushed as she finished tying the back of her dress. "The poor Fire Lord won't know what hit him when you arrive," she swooned as she came back around to give her niece a final once over. "The party has most likely already begun, so I suggest you get into the carriage now. It's better to arrive fashionably late where everyone will be able to get a good look at you in your grand entrance," she teased.

(Y/N) hugged her aunt and thanked her for everything. She was grateful the woman had talked her into attending the celebration and helped her prepare for it. Their embrace, though only lasting a few moments, seemed to help repair the crack that had been formed for years. When they released, (Y/N) smiled and made her way outside to the carriage they had requested for the evening. A palanquin would have been too expensive, but a carriage was nice, especially since it wasn't too breezy outside to ruin her hair.

After one final wave to her aunt, she was on her way to the Palace, both nervous and excited to see the Fire Lord again.

His eyes darted around, wondering if he'd be able to catch a look at a familiar face with beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes and long (Y/H/C) hair. While he knew that she didn't have to come, he had hoped he had possibly convinced her to with his gift and his note. Though he wanted to spew out in the letter that he didn't want another day to go by without seeing her face, he had to instead be smart about it, in case she didn't return the feelings that swelled within him.

Smiles and hopeful eyes surrounded him as he made his way through the brand new ballroom, filled with diplomats and various other important people that didn't really feel very important to him. Several women had already come up telling him he owed them a dance or two, to which he merely smiled and noncommittally nodded. There was only one person he wanted to dance with tonight and if she wasn't going to be there, he wouldn't step a foot onto that floor without her.

"Ah! Fire Lord Zuko!" A Fire Sage stepped into his path with a bow. "I've been meaning to introduce you to my daughter, Tora," the man gestured to the young woman beside him dressed in a long golden dress with her hair pulled into a tall ponytail. "She's been talking nonstop about this party and the ability to finally dance within the Fire Nation Palace." The Sage chuckled and shoved his daughter toward Zuko.

"It's an honor to meet you Tora," Zuko said, bowing with respect, watching as she flushed but not returning the motion. She giggled and rested her hand on his bicep, squeezing slightly.

"It's my honor, Fire Lord, my father has spoken nothing but good words about you since getting the opportunity to work with you after you took over from your father, shame he didn't turn out to be the man everyone thought he would be." Zuko tensed slightly. No, he turned out to be everything everyone wanted him to be, because the Fire Nation blindly followed his father due to the previous ideals his grandfather and great grandfather had set in their time.

"Yes," Zuko said, already losing interest in the conversation at her words, "it's quite a shame…" he mumbled, looking around to see if anyone could spare him. That's when he spotted a familiar face. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go check on the food for this evening," he rushed away, pulling his arm from her grasp in the process.

Striding up to his hero, Zuko pat his uncle on the back with a grateful smile. Iroh turned to look at him, his face full of roast duck that was being served on a stick.

"Nephew!" Iroh mumbled with his mouth packed, "this party is wonderful! The ballroom is beautiful." Zuko nodded his head, looking around at the glow of the lights from the chandeliers and the ornate imagery of dragons and fire painted into the ceiling. "Speaking of beauty, where is the wonderful creature behind this room? I assumed she'd be here to celebrate with you." The older man said with a wink. Zuko's face flushed for a moment before he took a piece of duck off of Iroh's skewer and shoved it into his own mouth, taking a second to come up with a proper reply to his uncle's very loaded question.

"I've invited her, but she implied that she didn't really like the idea of celebrating herself, she felt it unprofessional," his voice thick with sadness as he thought about her not wanting to be around him. Iroh patted his nephew's face and smiled.

"Don't count your losses yet," he said reassuringly, "she could still come." Zuko nodded his head, hopeful but still disappointed.

He wasn't sure how it happened so quickly. It felt like he went from loathing the idea of someone spending several weeks in his house, going over everything wrong with it, to counting the time until he'd be able to see her again after she had just left for the day. Their bond formed so quickly it didn't seem to be something solid for him to consider, but no matter how hard he tried to banish it from his mind, she just walked right back into his head, perfection and all, telling him that it wasn't that easy to get rid of her. He loved how strong she was but also that she cared so much about him and even his uncle in the small time they knew each other. She was fiery and passionate about her job and he wondered if that would translate the same into a relationship as well… a relationship with a certain head of the Fire Nation.

However, he was worried that he'd never be able to see her again. What if she didn't come tonight? He'd be stuck wondering what would have happened if she had. Would he admit to her his feelings? Would she have returned them? Would they have danced together? Kissed?

Zuko let out a deep sigh and removed himself from his head, turning his attention back on his uncle who seemed to be examining the table of food for something else to enjoy. Shaking his head with an amused grin, Zuko grabbed a slice of ash banana bread and popped it into his mouth, enjoying the warm, sweet taste.

"Sir," his advisor Shuro appeared next to him, "the council would like for you to have a quick word with them in the chambers, it appears there are some rumors of an attack on the Earth Kingdom by Fire Nation rebels," he whispered. Zuko groaned and nodded his head, gesturing for his advisor to lead the way, also grabbing Iroh by the arm and pulling him along.

He wanted this to be a no work event, where he could enjoy himself, his people could enjoy themselves and maybe, just maybe, he could spend the evening with someone he cared about.

As (Y/N) entered the ballroom, she couldn't help but notice several eyes land on her. Scrutinizing  faces from several women and lots of whispering began as she strode into the room, looking around for the Fire Lord himself. She knew she could spot him in a crowd of thousands, so when she didn't see him, she had to assume he wasn't there. Frowning, she made her way quickly to the food table to find something to distract her from the ache in her chest at the fact that he was most likely busy with someone else, whether that be a possible courtship or someone from the council. She picked up a single tea sandwich and nibbled on it, looking around the grand room at all the people. Some were dancing, which made her smile, others were swaying while they talked, a few were laughing and drinking heavily. It was a wonderful atmosphere filled with merriment and joy, something the Fire Nation had been without for the last one hundred years, of their own accord, of course.

Women were dressed in beautiful gowns some Fire Nation colored, others from various Nations like the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes, some even differing from the cultures and made up of glorious silks that were every color imaginable. She was definitely grateful for Zuko providing her with the dress, because anything she had remotely close to acceptable would have paled dramatically in comparison.

Munching on her sandwich, she watched as a man strode toward her with a smooth smile on his face. Her heart dropped knowing that this wasn't going to be good, he looked ready to hunt and she didn't feel like being the prey today.

"What's a beautiful woman like you doing over here by yourself?" He asked, flipping his head to the side and flashing a toothy smile at her. Internally groaning, she returned a curve of her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm waiting for someone," she said politely.

"Obviously he's a fool for leaving you alone," the man sidled up to her, reaching behind her to grab a fig and attempting to seductively eat it while staring her in the eye. She let out an unamused giggle, it sounded more like a sigh than a laugh, and shook her head.

"He's just a busy man," she amended, but it didn't help. After finishing his fig, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.

"Let's dance while you wait for him, though I'm not classically trained, I can hold my own," his grip on her fingers was tense but she managed to rip herself from his grasp and frown.

"I'll pass thank you," she replied harshly. Before he could say another word, she stormed away, attempting to look for any relief in sight. That's when she saw an escape and ducked for it, hoping no one noticed as she slipped down the stairs and out into the beautiful garden. The turtle ducks quacked happily in the glow of the moonlight that now lit up the whole garden.

She let out a breath she had apparently been holding in since her departure from the creepy man, and leaned against the large tree in relief. Tonight was not exactly going how she planned. While it may have been her imagination, she wanted to walk into the room, have everyone stop to look at her in awe, and then watch as the Fire Lord shoved his way through the crowed to pull her toward him in front of everyone and kiss her deeply.

Instead she had been scoffed at, hidden in a corner hoping that maybe she could find some peace in food, only to be rudely manhandled by some obviously drunken man who didn't understand she wasn't interested in him. She felt like a fool for thinking that tonight would be magical, like those tales her mother used to read to her when she was young.

Zuko was too busy for her, she should have expected that. He was the Fire Lord for crying out loud, why did she think he would drop everything for her? Maybe it was because he had during the redecoration… or maybe it's because she hoped that his feelings for her were somehow as strong as hers for him.

Again, she was just a fool though, thinking that the Lord of the Fire Nation would actually see anything in her other than a decorator. That's what she had wanted wasn't it? A professional relationship that didn't come with the backlash of rumors and heartache? Why did she feel so empty though at that thought? Why is it, instead of picturing Zuko as her client, she only saw him as her friend, and even potentially more? Why did she even come here tonight?

Zuko was finally free from his meeting, grateful they had found a solution for the possible Earth Kingdom attack. Now he was able to enjoy the night and freely walk around and mingle.

With his gaze once again darting around the room in hopes of seeing her, he realized he was disappointed that she seemed nowhere to be found. At the sight of the Fire Lord back within the party, several women rushed forward, begging him for their dance now. Zuko cringed outwardly and held up his hands assuring the women that he wasn't really the dancing type. He insisted that he needed a bit of air and politely circled around them to escape their yearning eyes.

The Fire Lord made his way to the garden, silently going down the steps, hoping no one had spotted him in his departure. He froze though, when his eyes landed on a familiar figure crouched down next to the pond, petting the turtle ducks with her finger.

"You came…" he breathed out relieved as he walked toward her. Her head turned to look at him and her face lit up. Standing tall, she watched as he strode up next to her, his face bright with a smile. "You…" he paused as his gaze finally examined her. "You look… good," he said awkwardly and then slammed his palm to his face, causing her to giggle.

"Thank you, it's a Fire Nation original," she teased, attempting to let him know she wasn't offended by his lack of words. "You look really nice too, but of course you always do in Fire Nation colors." His face burned at her compliment. Turning toward the party that still went on in the ballroom she smiled, "you sure know how to throw a party, Fire Lord Zuko, everyone really seems to be enjoying themselves."

"Are you?" He asked, curious as she was out here by herself. She looked back to him and nodded her head with the corner of her mouth turned up slightly.

"Yes, I just can't seem to keep myself away from this garden and these little darlings," the woman said, gesturing to the turtle ducks. "Have you gotten some time to relax and have a little fun?"

"Not really, but that's okay, I have a new bedroom I can use to unwind and relax in at night," he winked, finally gaining a bit of confidence to flirt with her. Another laugh escaped her and Zuko's heart swelled at the sound. "(Y/N), I'm really glad you came tonight. All day I dreaded the idea of having this party and not enjoying it with you." At his words, she blushed. "I also don't enjoy the fact that I won't be seeing you everyday anymore and I want to find a way to remedy that." Letting out a harsh laugh, (Y/N) shook her head.

"Trust me Fire Lord Zuko, you won't even remember me after a couple of weeks." Her insecurities rearing their evil head, attempting to shut down the fluttering in her chest.

"No, I'll remember you," he said, stepping toward her. Her eyes met his and he could see the fear within them. "I'd rather not risk that though and just see you as often as I can." His voice was low and husky.

"What would you have me do? Decorate something else? We did most of the Palace, everything I didn't touch was already perfectly fine."

"The Palace is perfect now, thanks to you, but I was thinking you might want to come and see me, not my Ballroom or my Throne room," he teased with a smirk, resting his hand on her cheek. "Maybe we could have lunches and dinners together, or take a trip somewhere, I'd like you to meet my friends and get to know them because I think they'd love you," he paused and took a deep breath, "like I'm beginning to." She sucked in a breath at his declaration. "I'd like the opportunity to spend every spare minute I have with you and laugh with you. I love your laugh so much (Y/N) it makes my entire day. I play it through my head all throughout my meetings, trying to remind myself of it until the next time I get to hear it," obviously a giggle escaped her lips at the sentiment causing a goofy smile to appear on the Fire Lord's face.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" She asked, sounding fearful, "I know we talked about it but what will people say when they see us together?" Shaking her head nervously she wasn't sure what to do, everything he said sounded wonderful but she didn't want him to make a mistake.

"I know what I want, I want what makes me happy, and that's you. Do I make you happy?" He asked, his voice determined.

"Yes more than anything." Her words left her lips in a whisper, "I couldn't believe I was falling in love with the Fire Lord until I woke up this morning and felt like someone had taken my heart out and left a hole in it, at the thought we wouldn't be together again."

Zuko grinned before moving his hand to take hers, and resting his other one on her waist. She smiled back at him, aware of what he was trying to do before placing her hand on his shoulder and allowing him to sway her around the grass. Their eyes never left each other's as they danced to the softened music behind them in the ballroom.

"I swore to myself that if I didn't get to dance with you tonight, I wasn't going to dance with anyone else," he replied with a chuckle, rubbing her back with his thumb as he guided her. "You're the only one I want to dance with… other than Aang, but that's a dragon thing," he joked and she laughed again.

He couldn't stop himself, at the sound of her laugh, he dipped his head forward and captured her lips with his, relieved when she reciprocated the action with fervor.

Their swaying stopped but their mouths didn't part as Zuko moved his hands to fully encase her hips and hers slid up to his neck where she pulled him closer, as if it were possible.

When they both separated for air, Zuko let out a smile, before pecking her on the lips once more with affection.

Standing on the platform with a bright grin on his face, Iroh watched as his nephew and (Y/N) returned to their dancing stance and swayed in contentment once more. He was grateful Zuko was finally able to enjoy himself and was happy that it was with someone as wonderful as she was. Behind him, Shuro popped up asking Iroh if he had seen the Fire Lord anywhere, Iroh shook his head and led the man away, ensuring that his nephew got some peace and love.

Master List

Tag List: @royahllty​ @mangoberry43​ @mrskeishasdead​ @taeeemin​ @blushbadger​ @shortmexicangirl​ @fire-lady-livi​ @jujugentle

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction #zuko x reader #zuko x fem!reader #Fire Lord Zuko #zuko fanfic #zuko #zuko x y/n #x y/n #zuko x you #x reader #firelordzukohere #interiordecor #atla x reader

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales: Jaw$! or How Lena Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Webby (Lena Retrospective Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Trigger Warning: Part of this review contains discussions of abuse which can’t be avoided but I still want to be senstive to my audience and any trauma they’ve gone through.  Welcome back weblena world to Shadow Into Light: My Lena Sabrewing Retrospective. And Jaw$ is here, long live Jaw$. Tiffany was a shark who bites the law she was in an episode i’m reviewing called Jaw$. 

And it’s the money shark before the storm as next month i’ll be going from two Ducktales reviews a week with the Lena retrospective and the last few episodes.. to three, as i’ll ALSO be covering the Della arc from season 1 in the build up to shadow war. And if your wondering if I expertly planned this to coincide with the finale, to the point the shadow war review and those leading up to it will be on the same week as the finale.... nope. I just got REALLLLY lucky as I already had all of that planned out, and the schedule for the  new episodes happened to synch up perfectly, ending just in time for me to revisit the series start and having Magica’s big in person appearance reviewed a week after we get her backstory in Life and Crimes. Though I am VERY happy it worked out this way as I get to properly celebrate the series end with more ducks than ever, and get to cover the pilot the same month as the finale, all things i’d of loved to do anyway and probably would’ve rejiggered my schedule to do. Point is lot of Ducktales content coming for this blog if you like that so stay tuned, but for now join me won’t you under the cut as we dive into a money bin of gay ducks, shadowy machinations, and Bad PR. 

We open as Lena and Donald awkwardly sit on the couch, waiting for Scrooge and the Kids to get home. Understandably it’s just.. dead silence.Given their a cynical teenager secretly working for and forced to obey a horrifying shadow monster and a 35 year old man who dosen’t like living in this house due to painful memories of his presumed dead sister.. and painful memories of pain in general, you have a huge awkward bowl of chips and “I really don’t want to be here right now”. 

Our heroes return though, and Louie tries to take some of their haul for himself but Scrooge stops that “It goes in the bin not to next of kin. “... Man in a Hurry if you would please. 

Thank you. Man in a Hurry everybody. He has to go now, he’s in a hurry. 

 As you can probably guess I do not like this, as it reminds me WAY too much of Scrooge’s worst “quirk” in the comics: how he’d barely pay his nephews, who are often hard up for cash mind you and one of whom is supporting three children ALONE, take them around the world and reap all the benefit for their hard work. It’s not like he did nothing, he did, but it’s way to exploitive for my tastes and can often sink a story if taken too far. It’s not AS bad... but they all went on the mission they all deserve at least something. I DO get keeping the rarest and most dangerous stuff for himself, as he is bankrolling things and does have two bins and a massive garage to safetly store them. But this just comes off as douchey for this version, who while liable to make mistakes with them, is far more nurturing towards his boys and girls. 

Thankfully this was course corrected next season. While Scrooge’s greed was properly restored.. this sort of treatment wasn’t. “Treasure of the Found Lamp” had him undergo character development and realize simply hoarding his treasures isn’t right or fair, and set up a musuem wing so both duckburg and his descendants can see them and get the stories behind them. And on not getting to take things clearly he’s eithe relaxed or stopped the policy as our heroes do have souveneers from time to time. Not a LOT mind, but little things like Dewey having a giant sword or Scrooge outright giving Louie one of his things show he did soften up. Though Della’s return and likely lack of tolerance for this stupid policy in the first place probably helped a lot, I also like to think he did change a bit and realize it was deeply unfair they didn’t get more than a few treasures of their own. So the writers did realize they kind of went overboard here.  I suspect this was more to setup for the episode’s subplot and to make Scrooge’s karma at the end feel justified. Speaking of which we get the start of said Subplot as Beakley comes in with a money cart and the news the board called. Why they called his house instead of his phone I don’t know, some things slip through the cracks when you running both a billion dollar company an da trillion dollar fiendish organization  for world larceny. I mean they clearly worked themselves so hard the other two apparently died between seasons. That or it was the diet of whiskey, orphan tears and grease in a wine glass both had. Bradford always told them it’d kill them though to his credit he only said I told you so twice at their funeral. 

For once no their not mad Scrooge is spending all the money they use to buy fowl jetskis, but because the Company’s having a bit of a PR nightmare now that Scrooge is back in the adventuring game. And we cut to the beanstalk they just adventured on having tore up a good chunk of the town and destroyed large swaths of it just to sell the point this isn’t their normal old man yells at other old man for spending all me money schitck, but a serious problem. As such they’ve booked him an interview with Roxanne Fetherly to improve his image and the companies. 

Scrooge scoffs at this, baffled why he has bad pr as his adventuring is GOOD for the city in the long run: He pays for any damages it causes, and likely at a cost no less which is a LOT coming from scrooge, and puts most of the money he makes on these adventures back into the city and his company, creating more jobs and better living conditions. He does get a wakeup call via  truly hilarous gag as Launchpad pops his head up to say “Good news mr. mcdee, it missed the orphange!” before getting ready to chainsaw the stalk for him. He quickly realizes MAYBE he needs some PR and agress to the interview. 

 This whole subplot really plays into one of the series main themes, one Frank brought up a few months back: Risk vs Reward. Adventuring is entirely about this, that adventure is dangerous, can cost you a lot as we see with Della and the aftermath of her terrible decision making, and can hurt people.. but it can also help people, bring money to those who need it, free those who are being oppressed and open new worlds to everyone. This subplot distills it down great: Scrooge is right that his adventures do bring in money, and as seen with the first episode brought in clean water and power with no drawbacks and only asked to be paid for it, which is fair given he still has to run machines and likely help relocate any workers whose jobs are now redundant to other parts of the company and retrain them. But it costs people their homes and jobs, not forever but still as long as it takes to construct, tears up roads and puts people in danger. It’s plots like this that make Bradford the perfect final boss for the series: He’s someone who blinds himself to the reward of all this and only sees the risk, and raises valid points even if he himself is deeply wrong. He’s right Scrooge causes a lot of danger and threat to the world.. but wrong in that he dosen’t see it’s all worth it for the good of everyone. 

But enough about future story arcs let’s get back to this one, as Webby excitedly greets Lena and hugs her, realizes she’s not hugging her back then gives her another squeeze anyway after claming to hate hugs when just a LOOK at Webby would tell you that’s false. The two are having a sleepover, Webby’s first ever.. and given Lena’s essentially an Emo Hobo and the closest thing she has to home is that starlight ancient amptheater that’s never properly explained. Seriously ancient ruins near Duckburg dosen’t suprise me, but at least tell me what they are and why Magica chose them. And why Louie hasn’t tried to sell tickets to Dewey boxing a gorilla in them. Or probably a possum I mean their on a budget and gorillas snap necks, but still i’d pay to see that as would we all. 

Point is it’s their first sleepover and naturally Webby’s first bit of smalltalk.. is how tucking in can be used for interogation techniques. I’d be more suprised if earlier this season it hadn’t already been shown Beakly regularly enrolls her daughter in the no murder, unless you really want to, hunger games every year. The fact Webby hasn’t become the bat is only because she hasn’t found a costume that’s the right combintion of pinks and purples to instill pantswetting terror yet. That shit takes time. 

Lena goes to the bathroom.. to talk to Magica who we properly get to meet. She did speak last time, but this ep is the one that properly establishes her personality for the reboot: she has clever plans, tons of power, if sealed currently, and is a genuine threat.. but she’s also a bit of a ham, in love with the old ultra violence and really short sighted in her plans, something we got hints of last time as her best solution to the Beakly Problem was  to just leave her to die and hope scrooge and webby, two people who love solving mysteries and unlocking puzzles, don’t investigate the horrifying death, accident or not, of their only friend and grandmother, and that neither, especially the 12 year old spiraling with grief, would suspect a former spy died. Thoguh in fairness on the spy thing it’s plausable Magica didn’t know that, but still it’s a bad plan. Magica has good ideas but is just so obessed with the brute force way of doing things she forgets the subtle approach works better.. and so far it has well for Lena.  Problem is it’s VERY clear by this point that Lena likes Webby, maybe not romantic styles JUST YET but it’s getting there. Webby on the otherhand has been in love with Lena from the freaking concept art which showed her blushing around her.. and that was in her 87 design.. which they thankfully changed. It’s not terrible but it just dosen’t fit well with this universe. Point is Lena is catching feelings and Magica realizes this and tries to gaslight her telling her she’d never acccept the truth abotu her and so on. As we all know and as we’ll see that’s bullshit but it’s an effective manipulation. We also find out Magica’s plan: she had Lena sneak a jewel into the treasure going into the bin, and it’s going to turn into a monster that will seek out the Number One Dime for them. She also vaugely hints that there’s something Lena needs from Magica. 

Once Lena returns, and Webby let’s her rabbit know the interogation isn’t over, she gives her possible future girlfirend a gift: friendship bracelets! They both put them on and it’s really fucking cute.. and will be both a tangible symbol of hteir friendship and a plot point several times, something I honestly hadn’t thoguht about till now. Lena, put off by the gesture not because she dosen’t aprpciate it because of the crushing guilt of lying to the one person who cares about her under the insucrtions of a sociopath, goes to Webby’s big old corkboard which is always fun to look at.. especially since it’s clearly the ONLY glimpse at Hortense we’re going to get all series. 

We’re not getting Grandma Duck either. Though at least Frank actually regrets that one. But the important part is one of the posts mentoniing Scrooge hates magic, something Webby elaborates on: He hates spells, hexs curses and what not and feels them a shortcut.  From the man who has a garage full of them. 

I do kid as I did realize there’s a valid expliantion for this: Scrooge will use magical items, protection spells that sort of thing.. but he uses them like anything else as needed. He’s too pragmatic to not say, use the jewel of atlantis to give a city clean energy and water he can montizie, or the split sword against FOWL.. but more often than not he just dosen’t need them. He collects them because it’s fun, oftne profitable.. and their simply SAFER in his museum wing, garage and second bin will get to in two weeks. He’s seen time and time again how people misuse magic, forget it has a price, or just rely on it instead of actual skill. He’s also clearly been on the bad end of a LOT of evil sorcerers and soreceresses, especially magica. Magic isn’t inherently bad, which in itself is a BIG message of Lena’s arc, it’s just somethign that’s the OPPPSOITE OF everythign scrooge is: sacrifcing others for power, relying on something besides yourself, distance attacks versus up close and personal phsycial attacks.. it was never going to be for him and tons of bad experinces with it only cemented it. He’s just not so stubborn outside of the santa thing to avoid something if it’s going to net him a profit or come in a pinch. 

So naturally Scrooge has banned any magic books from his house, as he has no use for spellcasting and any he’d need to keep for saftey or history’s sake are likely at the archives, but just as naturally, Webby smuggled one in and wants to try it with Lena ducking it and asking to play some games. I”m sure Huey has a few yugioh decks in his room go bug him. But before they can decide on one, the boys attack for a PILLOW FIGHT.... which is a sweet gesture and them just wanting to hang out, but ends with them all eating the ground and questioning why they thought attacking the duck equilvent of cassandra cain was a good idea. Louie decides to salvage it with a swim.. but since their pool has a boat in it he has a diffrent location in mind: the bin.

So while they head off to get head injuries, Beakly tries to prepare Scrooge as the Media are vultures and looking for the next scandal with public figures and it’s accurate. But given Scrooge’s natural mood is grumpus, this dosen’t go well at all and even a spray bottle dosen’t exactly help.. I mean it is the best method to deal with grumpy old men but it can only do so much. 

At the bin we get a lovely bit as Dewey prepares to dive and his brothers treat it like an olympic one, with both doing commentary, Dewey’s apparently response to if he was worried about brain damage was Nerp, and we get the wonderous national anthem of dewdonia. Just nice as well as lovely to see the brothers just having a crack and enjoying each others company with their own weird injokes but without the injokes feeling as forced as they were in “Beagle Birthday Massacre”. Things take a turn though as we see just what magica created with the stone... a giant shark made of scrooges money who eats that fucker in a single bite.. in this case Dewey. Louie and Huey naturally run off panicked.

So while Huey and Louie gain another scarring memory to tell their therapist when their older, Scrooge begins his interview with Roxanne Fetherly who.. honestly just weirds me out. Not for any personality stuff but because she has green feathers. And it just.. really feels WEIRD. I mean green ducks are a thing in real life.. but it just looks off to have such a pastel color on a duck when the other colors are white or tones meant to invoke real world races, allowing ducks to be black, latino, asian and so on and so on coded. That’s fine and blends in fine.. but with that metaphor the green just really dosen’t fit well at all. It feels like an early decision they made, but decided not to retcon or go with for anyone else which makes it all the more weird. We’re 3 seasons in , almost at the end, and the only other green duck we’ve seen was like that because of magic and the offputting nature of it WORKS for magica. Here I just don’t get it and I never well. But naturally Roxanne starts in on invasive, gotcha questions with no real good answers or time to respond, so fox news level questions, and then asks what part of ireland he’s from. 

Naturally that sets him off so while that rant goes on, literally next time we see him he’s still going on about it, we cut to the girls playing truth or dare.. and given Webby’s first question is about deepest darkest secrets the boys once again save her by running in... to report on the monster she created that just ate their brother. Lena brushes it off but does get them not to go to scrooge claming he’ll throw them to the shark himself. I mean he’s not comics scrooge so he probably woudln’t but their also two scared 11-12 year olds so it works well enough. They just need a way to go after the money shark. Enter launchapd who in the second best bit of the episode, says he sensed his best friend dewey was in danger. Beck’s delivery is what sells it.. and I’m not going to question it. He’s somehow alive despite presumibly living off a diet of spaghett-o’s, barely avoiding a car accident on his best days, and as we’ll find out later believing children in costumes are monsters he summoned when he was 8. The fact he suddenly has spider sense specifically related to people he cares about is honestly less of a surprise than the fact he’s not in heaven crashing God’s Speedboat into God’s Golden Castle with God’s Golden Lion riding shotgun. 

So they do the natural thing and.. steal Donald’s houseboat while he sleeps. He has no more involvement in this episode other than noticing it’s back and not in great condition at the end. I bring this up because this is one of Donalds ONLY apperances this season, and it’s part of the larger more irritating problem that he’s hardly ever used.. despite promoting him as a major part of the series. 

I will talk about this more during the Della arc as i’ts more relevant there, but needless to say it bothers me a lot and not knowing how to ballance it’s massive main cast was a constant struggle for the series even up to the final episodes going on right now. 

So our heroes head out on the bin late at night, where could the Jaw$ be she’s nowhere in sight. So they decide to use other treasure as a lure they either fished out of a bin or out of scrooge’s bathwater. How bathing in coins gets him clean I don’t know and frankly I dont’ think we want the answers to that and the idea of scrooge fully naked is so horrifying I forgot what I was talking about.

Ah yes our heroes are playing bait the money monster and find out it’s a shark, and Lena.. is not okay with that and goes to talk to Magica inside the boat. Magica tells us she has a name, Tiffany. Awww what a lovely name for a money shark. I would of gone with Rags to Bitches, but I may have brain damage.  Lena understandabily does not like the idea of getting eaten by a shark, asked to be informed and while Magica is mad at her for going after the thing, Lena reasonably points out that it was this or Scrooge got involved.  Up top Huey tries catching it with a bit of treasure on a rope.. after not shutting up about shark facts because “Facts comfort me when i’m nervous!” Precious angel. But Huey’s leg gets caught and he and Louie, somehow on the latter get thrown up in the air and chomped. Back bellow Webby has a suggestion: using magic. Lena naturally not wanting to blow her cover or really liking magic period is against it for now. 

Back at the interview, Roxanne brings on a special guest to prove people don’t like scrooge: GLOMGOLD!

Glomgold may create some issues for the subplot and we’ll get to those in due time, but damn if it isn’t always a pleasure to see him. He’s also on good terms with Roxanne... are.. are we sure this is local news and not fox news? Taking the word of a conservative greedy billionare over a progressive one seems like a fox move. Though I might actually watch fox news if glomgold was a commentator.  “I propose a red new deal instead of this blasted green new deal, I throw Scrooge to a tank of sharks connected to a generator, the tank turns red with his blood and that somehow creates power! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT MCDUCK” 

So we get the best bit of the episode as Glomgold tries to complain about his building being destroyed which would be fair... if he hadn’t tried to blow up Scrooge’s bin twice this week, with Glomgold going for THREE.. for threee.. for three... it dosen’t go off but it does get scrooge to say he’s glad the building was destroyed. Which is fair but NOT super great PR.  

Back at the shark things don’t get better as Webby and Lena argue over the use of magic, I mean as much as they can argue Webby just wants to know why she’s so cagey about this while they go with plan “Launchpad crash into it”. Launchpad also gives a hell of a monologue. Good on you bud. As you can see launchpad’s gotten 100% better since his low point in our last episode. That’s because it’s clear the writers had some struggle ballancing his amped up stupidity with actual competence, making him primarily jokey comic relief in the first few episodes and I wouldn’t be shocked if Terror of The Terra Firmians was written before a lot of the later episodes despite airing around the same time. But by mid-season he’s got his much more lovable charactersation of a dangerous moron..l but one who CAN be competent and is genuinely charming due to how much he cares about his friends and his job. They also dialed down the stupid down to an acceptable homer simpson level: still a danger to himself and others but hilariously so. Point is they fixed it and while i’ll complain about mistakes the show made I will give this crew all the credit for course correcting time and time again and actually listening to fan feedback.

So Webby figures they tried the Jaws option and lost the boat and launchpad, time for plan Magic. They hold hands, EEEEEEEEE, and try a spell.. and it clearly starts working but almost works TOO well, as Lena starts glowing first purple.. then blue. Hmmmm... intresteing. Lena breaks it off and Tiffany breaks out of the bin.. just as scrooge says on the news his adventures aren’t dangerous. 

Scrooge naturally goes to face it while Webby wonders why Lena didn’t go for it. To make it a triple Scrooge shows up in time to distract tiffany.. with the number one dime, which as lena found out earlier is on his person rather than at the bin like the public thinks. So while Scrooge puts up a good show.. seriously it’s really awesome and really neat looking, though he also gets VERY upset that people are naturally holding out buckets for the cash shark, which he’s not happy about because well.. he did EARN that money. Most bin money is stuff directly earned by him so fair enough. But while he’s you know, Scrooge Fucking McDuck, and thus puts up a good fight the monster eats him.. and gets the dime stuck in it’s tooth with Magica wanting Lena to grab for it, forgetting that minons, while mildly disposable, aren’t really replaceable when your SOUL’S ATTACHED TO THEM. That’s where Magica’s weakness is. her plans aren’t half bad but as I said, she’s far too bloodthirsty and short sighted. She has better ones than glomgold but ironcially they share the same problem of not thinkign them through. And Magica cares so little for lena she’s blinded to the fact her own personal saftey is tied up in her. 

Lena naturally dives for her future girlfrriend and heads into the belly of the beast. And it’s here her REAL moment of truth is. While the one last episode was noble.. it was also easy enough to brush off internal as pragmatisim. Letting Beakly die would’ve brought too much heat and been too easy to quickly go terrible, while saving her got her off Lena’s trail and gave her free reign of the manner. But here? Webby is about to slip into Tiffany’s stomach and whle she hasn’t digested anyone yet given who made Tiffany with it’s likely just because she hasn’t had enough mass to create chainsaws to carve them all up. It’s the Dime or Webby. Lena’s own freedom or the girl she loves. Nothing good comes from saving Webby.. other than Webby. Other than the one person whose truly loved her. I mean think about it: She was created by magica, abused for a good decade and a half. No one but Magica has had a chance to care about her and as we’ve seen Magica only sees her as a weapon to get back at scrooge and not as a person. Webby was the first person she’s ever made a genuine connection with, that’s been there for her, that loves her unconditionally and woiuld be there for her no matter what. And it’s in that moment Lena realizes she can’t sacrifice her for her own good... that after years of having to be selfish to surivive being chained to that monster... she can’t be this time. No mastter what it costs her.. Webby is priceless. So Lena recites the spell, growing bright blue and blowing up tiffany. Lena gladly hugs webby who reciorpates, awww gaybies, and Launchpad hugs dewey. Awww... what it’s still precious he’s a good surrogate uncle. The wacky kind who sleeps in a van on your lawn. 

So Scrooge is glad.. though it’s here his subplot falls flat. Him getting attacked by the media and getting a compupance by loosing tons of money from tiffany is fine. Evne if he earned it, his lack of care did bring this on him.. hte problem is they take it too far by having all his nemies show up, him unable to say anything and glomgold blatantly doing so just to steal from him. Otherwise the subplot is fine, a bit heavy on scrooge being a dick but it has to to work and puts him in an awkward situation. But this ending just feels to over the top to realy enjoy. And the series does do over the top humor well so I don’t know what happened here. But having a bunch of outright thieves steel his money instad of a bunch of citizens who didn’t know better and deserved it for the damage, feels wrong and it tastes wrong. 

Speaking of feels wrong and tastes wrong we get an INTEINTONAL dose of that as back at the amptheater, Lena and Magica argue about the situation and Magica trying to kill her. Lena tries to walk away but can’t.. phsyically. Magica won’t let her. And this is honestly a very crushing and very well crafted metaphor for how abuse victims sometimes CAN’T escape their abusers. Magica is verbally abusive, treats lena like she’s disposable and constnatly downtalks her self esteem. To Lena magica is nothing but a tool.. but like MANY children caught in horrifcally abusive situations Lena can’t get away. It’s a literal metaphor, an da good one, for how you can’t ALWAYS escape abuse easily, and this especially true for kids who have nowhere to go and hte law on their abusers side more often than not. It’s hard to escape an abusive parent and even harder when they dont’ consider you a person. I thankfully have no personal experince with this but it dosen’t make it any less of a problem nor any less noble of this show to tackle the subject in a frank, if fantastical, way, and a good chunk of Lena’s arc is overcoming this abuse and not letting her abusive past drown her. But for now.. all she can do is agree to do what Magica says till she can hopefully be rid of her. But the light at the end of the tunnel’s coming.. there’s just a whole lotta darkness first. 

Next Time: We take a break from the episodes to cover some Lena related comics for a double feature; The first Spies Like Us has everyones faviorite lesbian ducks go on a spy adventure that was never printed in the us for silly reasons we’lll get to and then the 87 ducktales comic dime after dime which features Lena’s predecessor Minima. 

Later Today: Close Enough Season 2 is here! I”m going to talk about it! Exclimation Points! 

If you liked this review feel free to follow for more. And if you have an episode of Ducktales or another animated show you’d like me to cover just hit me up via my asks or direct messages on here and comission it. And if you’d rather just support me on a monthly basis, head over to my patreon. THE LINK IS RIGHT HERE.  Even a buck a month would help and the more of you that donate the closer we get to my Duckcentric stretch goals. The current closest ones are 15, which would lead to reviews of The Goofy Movies and Treasure of the Lost Lamp, and 20 which would lead both to a review of the Super Ducktales mini series, and monthly darkwing duck reviews! So if you like me talking about ducks and want to bolt some duck reviews to the schedule, even a dollar a month would inch me closer to that goal. Eveyr bit helps. But money or not, it’s been a pleasure and i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

#ducktales #weblena #lena sabrewing #webby vanderquack #scrooge mcduck #bentina beakly #donald duck #launchpad mcquack #dewey duck #huey duck #louie duck #magica despell #tiffany despell #jaw$ #jaws

[charlie-boio]

The Only One For Me Part One

Summary: Everyone gets assigned a magical allegiance once they turn 16: Healers, Electrics, Shifters, and Darks, who were more often referred to as Voids. Once you reach 25, you no longer age until you meet soulmate.

After being outcasted by the world so long ago, Stiles Stilinski gave up on ever subjecting his soulmate to being with a Dark and decided that if the world would only ever treat him like it, he’ll be exactly what they wanted him to be: Void.

Word Count: 6,312

A/N: So, I really like this idea. Also I meant for this to be like a 5,000 word fic but it’s gonna be longer and this is now a two part fic because I procrastinated too hard and now my family is yelling at me to spend time with them. I’m sorry it took me awhile to write again lol I just needed to sit down and write. Anyways this is for @writingsbychlo Void Month, even though it’s the last day for it. This was a little bit inspired by her Stone Walls story because I love magic and the Billie Eilish song COPYCAT. I’ll try tagging those but I’m super new to posting new content so I have no idea how to do it lmao but I’ll give it a shot because y’all should check it out 😊 anyways I hope you enjoy this!!

Warnings: angst, smut but nothing too outrageous but it probably qualifies as rough smut, violence, blood, attempts at self-harm, mentions of suicide, I feel like I’m missing stuff so if I miss something and it triggers you I am so so sorry

I would also classify this as NSFW so read at your discretion.

  If you had known him back then, you wouldn’t believe that this dark, twisted, and fucked up man was that same bright and smiling boy before.

Stiles Stilinski was always a happy kid, and despite his awkwardness, people were naturally drawn to him. Sure, he had a biting, sarcastic sense of humor, but he was kind, sweet, and he cared for other people more than he cared for himself. He had loving parents, dozens of friends, and a welcoming home. His future, safe to say, was bright.

He was so excited to find out was his magical allegiance was; several friends had gotten it already and were unabashed in flaunting their powers about. He hoped he would be an Electric, wielding electricity through his fingers like the superheroes he always grew up idolizing was a dream come true. Of course, he’d be happy with being a Healer or a Shifter too.

Stiles couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate either. He already had gift ideas, dates planned, and he couldn’t wait to introduce them to all his friends, his family, and especially his mom. He wanted to travel the world with them, and he promised his unknown soulmate that he would protect them from anything that could ever harm them. He also didn’t see why he couldn’t get a head-start on gift making and love letters. After all, if they were his soulmate, they would be just as eager about all this soulmate stuff as he was.

Stiles didn’t know much about Darks, more commonly known as Voids. He just knew that they were extremely rare, and pretty much pure evil. There was only one thing anyone ever told him: stay far away from Voids.

Of course, you could imagine the absolute dread he felt when he found out what his magical allegiance was.

His parents, albeit afraid, still loved him and tried their best to reassure him, but they couldn’t stop his tears as he fled to his room, sobbing uncontrollably. He hoped with all his might that he would be different, that his friends would still love him, that he would still be able to do all the things he so desperately had wanted to do with his life.

You couldn’t imagine his grief on how wrong he had been.

It wasn’t subtle, it was instantaneous the change. Everyone turned against him: friends, teachers, even strangers he used to smile at from the sidewalk. He racked up two weeks’ worth of detention for things no one got detention for, and he had sat alone at the lunch table. The weeks flew by of him begging for people to understand he wasn’t any different! He hadn’t changed! He even pledged to never learn or master his powers, whatever they were, but it never made a difference. They all abandoned him, simply for something he had no control over, and that he would take back if he could.

It continued like this for two years, and slowly the outside world began to drain away the once happy boy. Day by day the light in his eyes dulled, he walked slower, and he grew quiet. He became a shell, empty of everything he once was. One day he looked through his drawer, seeing all his plans that he had made with his soulmate. How could he even have one? With the way the world was, even if he did have one, why would he ever subject them to a life with a Void? What kind of monster would do that?

He couldn’t bring himself to throw away those plans though. Despite his resolve to never meet his soulmate, somewhere deep down, he still wanted them to love him as much as he loved them already.

His parents will still supportive, seeing how it was the outside world changing him, not his supposed evil and vicious powers. They consoled him when it was a particular hard day and showed him every ounce of love and affection that they could. Stiles was forever grateful.

Which is why it only hurt even more when he had walked home from school and saw his house engulfed in flames.

He didn’t think much of the threats, they happened all the time since he was 16…he never thought anyone would act on it…h

The tears came fast before he could stop them. A sharp pain shot through his heart and flowed through his body as he fell to his knees. Even if they were alive, there’s no way in hell that anyone would come help him, a Dark…a Void…even though his parents were both Healers. They hadn’t done anything wrong…they had only loved him despite everything.

He stood shakily and ran. Ran away from everything. From his childhood home, from the town he grew up in, and from the house that was completely engulfed in flames. Stiles ran into the woods, limbs shaking while he collapsed again, resting against a tree, his head in the palms of his hands.

For the first time he no longer felt empty, he felt angry. How dare they? How they accuse him of being evil when he had nothing wrong all his life? Why kill his parents, the only people who ever truly loved him and were his one chance of being happy? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He snapped.

Fine, he thought. You all win, if you want me to be Void…I’ll be Void…

He stood up while rolling his neck, feeling the bones crack. He flexed his shoulders and raise up his palm, about to do something that he had never attempted. Stiles panicked for a second, then a burst of energy blasted him back, throwing him against a tree a hundred feet away. He groaned in pain and frantically looked around, wondering what had caused that. Then he realized…it was him!

Stiles realized everyone wasn’t afraid of him because he was evil, it was because everyone knew that he would be powerful.

He stood up and tried again, and dark spiraling lines flew from his hands and up into the sky. He still stumbled but held his footing. He laughed, enjoying the power flowing through his veins. He smirked, closing his fist.

Stiles turned back to the town, feeling something for the first time in a few years. He knew exactly what he had to do

*

*

  You were nervous, to say the least. She took deep breaths while walking up to the gated community of the Voids.

Everyone knew the story from 20 years ago, how Stiles Stilinski took up the name Void for himself and single-handedly drove everyone out of his hometown. Miraclously, nobody died, but plenty were maimed. He threatened anyone who would come to try to take back his town, and nobody needed to be told twice. From the around the world, Darks had come to this place seeking refuge from the outside world. Since this incident, Stiles Stilinski was known to the rest of the world and the true Void, and they all referred to him as such. The world hated him; he was everything parents warned their children about at night. He was the boogeyman, made of pure evil.

Except to the Darks. They worshipped him as their savoir, someone who saved them and gave them a place to live out in the open instead of casted out into the deepest darkest corners of the world. Many had even found their soulmates, after centuries of being alone.

Some people had also taken refuge here, even though they weren’t a Dark. Well there had been some tension, people in this town had learned that they all really weren’t any different from each other, and they all live in peace together, even if the rest of the world is divided.

Although, there have been new safe havens that have formed in these past 20 years, Stiles was the first to revolt back.

Which is why you were nervous because when you had decided to leave your parents who thought cruelly of Darks, you hadn’t expected to come across the original safe haven. Even though they had accepted others, you still felt a pool of dread hitting your stomach. Darks were weary of others for a reason…

As you approached the large gate, it opened partly, allowing someone from the community to walk out. You could make out his tanned skin and crooked jaw; reading his energy, you knew instantly he was a Void, which only made you more nervous. What if they don’t accept me?

He stopped in front of you but kept a good distance. He cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing here?” he asked cautiously.

“I-I need a place to stay”

“What? As a vacation?” You flinched automatically, feeling worse with every passing minute. If you couldn’t come here, where the fuck would you go?

“No…to live. I ran from home because they had driven out all the other Voids, and I didn’t agree with how the felt. A lot of my friends were Voids…they were good people,” You tried your best to seem confident, but your voice wavered. The boy stared coolly at you, not buying your story.

“How come you’re so damn nervous then?” he asked, malice dripping from his voice.

“Because…if you guys don’t want me here, which I understand, then no one will,” his eyes instantly softened at your words, nodding in the direction of the gate.

“Follow me,”

Relief instantly flooded your chest, a small smile creeping on your lips as you followed the boy. Together, you walked through the gates as they shut behind you, signaling the end of that chapter of your life. You could scream from the joy, but kept quiet, choosing to instead go up to the boy leading you around.

“Um…what’s your name?” you asked tentatively.

He turned to you, smiling slightly. “You don’t have to be nervous anymore, we won’t randomly throw you out. Promise,” he held out his hand to you, “and my name is Scott. Scott McCall. My mom and I moved here after my dad found out I was a Dark.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve learned through the years that the ones that truly care about you don’t care what your magical allegiance is. They just care about who you are…” he trails off, smiling to himself. He’s probably thinking of his soulmate, you thought to yourself. You wished more than anything to meet your soulmate.

“I’m y/n y/l/n,” you stated, snapping Scott out of his thoughts for a brief moment. He nodded to her, acknowledging the name. They walked in silence for a brief moment before he was giving her a tour of the town, telling her which houses were available and who lived where. You were amazed on how well people have acclimated here. You were hopeful for your future. After walking around town for a little while longer, you two settled into silence as you moved into another part of town. “So, who are they?”

Scott crooked an eyebrow. “Who?”

You smiled knowingly. “Your soulmate. You were thinking of them after talking about your dad.”

He smiled brighter at you; a light dusting of pink covered his cheeks. “Allison. Her situation was similar to yours, her parents didn’t approve of Voids,” his jaw ticked slightly. “But she didn’t feel the same way. We met here, and as soon as we made eye contact, we knew. Unfortunately, we were in town meeting that still had at least another hour…”

You laughed loudly at that. Of course you knew about how once you and your soulmate discovered each other, the sexual attraction between you two is remarkably high, to the point that you guys pretty much spend the day trying to satisfy your sexual needs. The longer you put it off, the stronger it gets. The thought of even surviving an hour seemed impossible to you.

He grinned sheepishly at you, the tension from earlier long gone. “Her dad eventually came around, and they reconciled. They live down that way now,” he nodded his head toward a winding road. “And I live a few blocks from them. We’ve decided to take things a little slow, considering we were 18 when we met, so we figured we had all the time in the world to settle down.” You nodded at his words, genuinely happy for you. “Have you met yours yet?”

Your shoulders slumped. “No, not yet. Hopefully soon though. Maybe I’ll met them here,” You wanted more than anything to meet your soulmate. It was something you’ve dreamed about ever since you’ve heard of having one. You only hoped that they would be just as excited to meet you. “I had a boyfriend back home, but looking back now, I’ve realized he was rather abusive. He also hated Darks with a passion, and tried to forbid me from fraternizing with them”

“What was he, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A shifter, I’m-“

“A healer. I know,” He smiled at you. “Do you give health or take away?”

You paused before answering, “…take away. Another reason for leaving…” Scott merely nodded, not pressing the subject further.

The two of you turned a corner to see a lone house on top of a hill. It was smaller than the other houses in this town, and looked to be uninvited to the rest of the community. You turned to Scott. “Who lives up there?”

Scott looked up toward the house, and for a second you thought you saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it was gone as fast as it came. “That’s…Stiles…Stiles Stilinski.”

Your eyes widened. “He’s still here? He’s not dead? No one’s seen him…”

Scott laughed humorlessly at that. “Well, he’s had it pretty rough, even for a Void. He doesn’t come into town often, and when he does, he usually keeps to himself. Even though it’s a safe haven, he’s still distrusts everyone. Of course, he sure as hell doesn’t step foot outside those gates,” You looked up at the house, feeling such sorrow for this Stiles, despite having never met him before.

Scott cleared his throat. “You’ll definitely see him around, but don’t expect him to say hi or anything,” You nodded, walking back up the path toward some of the open houses.

*

*

  Stiles held out his hand to the baby doe, some bread being offered to the nervous creature. It took a tentative step forward, sniffing the air. He crouched down even lower, and extended his arm a little further for them. Slowly, the doe started to walk toward him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, holding out his hand even further. Eventually, it reached his hand and ate the bread from his palm. He tipped his head and smiled slightly at the baby.

Suddenly, the doe’s eyes widened, and it sprinted away from him. Stiles knelt there still, his face falling, before he heard the sound of footsteps behind him and he grew annoyed.

“What do you want, Scott?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I know you like me, Stiles, you wouldn’t have let me come up this far otherwise.”

“What do you want?”

“Relax, it’s not another attempt to drag you downtown,” Scott sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his jaw. “I’m just here to tell you there’s a new member in our community.”

Stiles turned to him scowling. “I’m not the mayor, I don’t need to know that shit.”

“Well, the mayor thinks you do; he considers you at least the owner of this town.”

“I don’t collect rent.”

“You know what I mean,” Scott said. Stiles stood up and brushed past him, walking into the house. To his dismay, Scott followed him. “Her name’s y/n y/l/n. She’s not a Dark, but she believes they deserve equal treatment like the others here so she left her town and family. She’s a Healer, but she takes away health instead of giving it.” Scott paused, waiting for his reaction. When Stiles didn’t give one, Scott moved toward the door.

He don’t what came over him, but suddenly his mouth was moving without him telling it to, “Where does she live?”

Scott stopped, turning abruptly toward him. Stiles tried to maintain his composure; he knew this was something he never asked. Scott gave him an odd look before answering, “She lives on Milton Road, not far from Allison and I.” Stiles nodded. When he didn’t say anything else, Scott left him to be on his own. Despite the cool interaction, Scott smiled to himself. He had a feeling, but he wouldn’t say anything. He knew how badly Stiles had been burned, and he wouldn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. Scott realized he wasn’t even sure if Stiles wanted his soulmate around. Scott shook his head and started the route back to his home.

Meanwhile, Stiles frantically walked through his house up to the single guest bedroom, not that he had any guests. The room was void of everything, except from a bed and a desk with a single drawer. He walked shakily up to the desk and opened the drawer. Inside were the plans, ideas, and letters he had written to his soulmate years ago. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept them; he wasn’t ever gonna find his soulmate if they weren’t dead already. But he couldn’t will himself to throw them out. It was the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely to his new persona of Void. He wanted to spite the world for as long as he could, and for some reason these letters helped.

Stiles slammed the drawer shut and stormed away.

*

*

  You had acclimated well with everyone here. You quickly became friends with Allison, which in turn had you become friends with Scott as well. They ended up introducing you Lydia, Malia, and Derek as well. You made some of your own friends as well, feeling the happiest you had since before finding out your magical allegiance at 16.

Slowly, you had began to gain more confidence in yourself too, figuring out what you want versus what you didn’t want. You weren’t sure what you wanted out of your life yet, but the happier you became here with your friends, the more you longed for someone to share your life with. You hoped with every new person you met that they would be the one, but every time you were deeply disappointed.

You remember clearly the first day you saw Stiles himself. You had decided to get some ice cream with Scott, Allison, and Lydia, who were all laughing loudly at the fact that you were a virgin after each of them had talked about who was their first.

“Seriously? Not once? Not even drunk?” Lydia asked through her giggles. Scott and Allison were still laughing furiously.

Your blush grew even deeper. “No,” you said firmly.

“I thought you said you had a boyfriend?” Scott asked after finally calming down.

“I did…Adam wanted to as well. ‘For practice’ as he would say, and I know people have that mindset to be good in bed for their soulmate, but I always thought that I was betraying them if I did that. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even drunk” you finished, more embarrassed than ever. Everyone at home thought that your mindset was stupid, and told you so, but when you looked at your friends, they were smiling, saying how they understood your mindset. You smiled to yourself, wondering how you could ever doubt their intentions.

When you looked up, that’s when you saw him.

He was walking by himself, moving slowly across the street. While his stride and shoulders gave the illusion of confidence to anyone who was merely glancing by, the way his head dipped low and forlorn face gave away his insecurity in himself. Many people waved brightly at him, happy to see him about for the first time. Being polite, he would nod and give a small smile, but nothing more.

You couldn’t help but stare. The way his jeans fit his legs, or his black leather jacket with a black shirt clung to him in all the right ways. You were expecting someone with gusto, someone like Adam who bullied their way around with their strength and loud voice. You weren’t expecting him to be the skinny kid who could barely say hello.

“Who’s that…?” you whispered.

Scott turned his head, his smile instantly fading. “That’s Stiles,” He gave you a knowing look.

“Is he always alone?”

“Sometimes he joins Scott for a walk, or will have dinner with us. He won’t say much though, and Derek will forever boost on how he got him to crack a smile at one of his jokes,” Lydia said, flicking her long hair back and taking a sip of her milkshake. “Scott makes it a point to visit him though and tell him what we’re up to, at least once a week.”

You looked down at your ice cream, feeling your heart break at the fact that he was so scarred from the world that he felt like he had to be alone.

By the time you looked up again, Stiles was gone.

 Stiles had seen you too. Scott had mentioned to him that he was getting ice cream with Allison today and he was feeling up for sitting with his friends, even if they never considered him to be one. However, he wasn’t expected you to be there either. You and Lydia must’ve been invited sometime after Scott’s visit. He stopped in his tracks and stared at you, enthralled in your beauty. All the confidence he had earlier in seeing his friends completely vanished, and he quickly turned his heel and bolted back up to his home. Once there, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it, taking quick breaths to calm his racing heart.

*

*

  Scott had told him plenty about you, and the more Scott talked, the more Stiles wanted to see you for yourself. You had seemed too good to be true. You were smart, funny, kindhearted, not to mention beautiful, and you seemed to get along well with all of his other friends. You had a troubled past like him, but you had seemed to grow from it instead of drowning in it like Stiles had

Scott had also told you about Stiles, with what little he knew. You knew nothing of his past, but you knew he wasn’t the cold-blooded creature that you had learned about in school. He was extremely polite, however little things could set him off sometimes, and he didn’t really speak. You figured he had crawled instead his shell after whatever had happened to him, and you were determined to find the real Stiles, wherever he was.

However, you two seemed to always miss each other.

You would find out that the one time you’d missed dinner with Scott, Allison, Derek, and Lydia, Stiles had shown up. Or you would see him out on the street, but never with enough courage to talk to him. You two haven’t even made eye contact.

He’d done his best to try to meet you, and the other residents in town had started to notice that instead of venturing out of his home a few times a year after Scott’s relentless begging to now going out nearly every single day. He’d even gone as far as holding a small conversation with some of the people who stopped to thank him on the street. Despite his anxiety screaming at him to run and hide away until everyone forgot he was there, he wanted to meet you.

But he couldn’t stop his racing heart every time he saw you, and just as you turned to look in his direction he’d turn away, cursing himself for still being so distrustful of everyone.

He’d made progress, but not enough. The dark thoughts were still there, tormenting his mind that you would turn against him, judge for being a Void, for being the true Void. He also couldn’t help but wonder if he was the one person you would dislike.

Stiles laid awake at night, wondering if he’d ever muster up the courage to talk to you.

*

*

  Adam was disgusted. His parents had just finished telling him about how there were now over 100 safe havens across the globe. Disgusting. How dare they? How dare they even exist? They knew they’re place 20 years ago, until that motherfucker Void drove out his town. He was lucky no one died, else he’d be rotting in jail where he fucking belongs.

The more Adam thought about it, the more he thought somebody should do something about these little “safe havens”. Why hasn’t anybody even fucking tried? More importantly…why hadn’t he tried.

He had followed y/n when she left, followed her straight into the original safe haven. Void’s safe haven, and he watched her get in. He could shape shift easily into someone…no, he could kill one of the guards, take their form, and get in with absolute ease. If was able to kill him, their supposedly savoir, then these little safe havens would disappear. Y/n would come flying back into his arms once he becomes the person that saved the goddamn world from these monsters.

He disguised himself as a little girl, knowing that his magical allegiance would quickly be disguised as she was too little to even have one, and limped up to the gate. Of course, the guard that night took complete pity, which he took advantage of.

He was easily to kill, just a quick snap of his neck and he was on the ground. A painless death for someone who didn’t deserve it.

Quickly taking his form, he slipped through the gates, making up some random excuse as to why he didn’t let her in.

*

*

  Stiles paced around his living room, anxiously biting at his nails. He hadn’t been this fucking nervous in years. He kept glancing at the clock, watching the seconds tick by when the knock came tentatively at the door. Stiles rushed and flew it open in seconds, ushering a very confused Scott into the room.

“Hey, hey dude take it easy!” Scott said, laughing nervously. “What’s the big emergency?”

“How do you know there is one?”

“Well…you’ve never invited me here before,” Scott shifted on his feet and glanced down at the floor.

Shame immediately flooded through Stiles. “Oh…I’m sorry. Really. I guess I haven’t really been a good friend…”

Scott’s eyebrows raised. He hadn’t known that Stiles considered him a friend, and he broke into a huge grin at the thought, relieved that his pestering to go into town wasn’t a total waste. “You haven’t been, you’ve just taken your time getting used to having friends again. I understand.”

A silence fell over them, before Stiles remembered why he had called him in the first place. “Oh um, if you don’t mind, I kind of need a favor…”

“Anything,”

“Well,” Stiles shuffled nervously. He walked over to the counter and picked up the enveloped. Taking a deep breath, he held out to Scott. “I need you to give this to y/n for me. I…don’t know where she lives exactly and every time I go out I seem to miss her…or I psych myself out. I’m hoping this’ll help us get to know each other,” He smiled nervously at Scott, who’s face had spilt into a huge grin.

“Of course, man, I’m happy to do it. I’ll deliver it on my way home. Promise,” Scott said. He turned and made his way to the door before stopping and turning back to Stiles. “Hey man, I’m proud of you for this. This’ll be the first friend you make without me having to introduce you,”

With that, he left Stiles alone. Stiles smiled to himself, feeling something for the first time since he was 16, happiness.

*

*

 You had been at home, enjoying a small glass of wine when Scott came knocking at your door. You had barely even cracked open the door before he came bursting through, exclaiming wildly about the encounter he had just had with Stiles. It took you awhile to calm him down in order for you to understand exactly what he was saying. Scott excitedly handed you the letter Stiles had written for you before running out the door to tell Allison about Stiles’ progress.

With shaky hands, you opened the letter from him. Surprisingly, he had such beautiful handwriting and wrote very eloquently. He apologized dearly for somewhat avoiding you, saying how he wasn’t the confident, charismatic person everyone here saw him as (you already knew that), and that he would love to have you over for dinner tonight so he could get to know you better. Of course, you welcomed to decline for whatever reason.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You were completely honored that Stiles wanted to get to know you. You knew exactly how cautious he was with letting people into life. Of course, you happily accepted his invitation, and began to get ready. You weren’t sure how formal this was supposed to be but decided that a pink skirt that swished down to your knees and a white blouse with matching vans would be good. Stiles would probably be nervous to see you and you didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed if you wore something too nice. It would be a lovely friend date for the two of you.

Feeling as though you were a giddy ten-year-old on the way to a birthday party, you left your home and made the walk up to the Stilinski home.

*

*

 Stiles was once again nervous. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for dinner tonight. He wasn’t the best cook, and after burning a chicken in the oven, he decided that take out would be a suitable option instead. Well, if you were coming.

He hoped you were, else he’d probably regress back a few steps. He didn’t want to, especially because of how happy Scott seemed when he told him about this. He wanted to do better, to be better.

A rapid knock came at the door. Stiles heart instantly fluttered as he took once last look at the mirror, making sure he looked alright. Taking quick steps, he opened the door-

BAM! The door flew open, knocking Stiles back to the floor, hitting his head hard. Before he could figure out what the fuck was going on, something grabbed his throat, lifted him up, and shoved him against the wall.

“Open your eyes, Void,” a deep voice sneered.

Fuck.

Slowly, he pried his eyes open, seeing an unfamiliar face. Thankfully, since he’d been spending much more time in town, he knows roughly who lives here. This man definitely does not live here.

“Who the fuck are you?” Stiles wheezed, grabbing at the hand around his throat, trying to summon his magic.

“Adam Tameson, and don’t you dare use your power unless you want me to kill people in this town. Do you really want that?” Your face flashed through Stiles’ head, and he stopped any attempt at magic. “Good, and since I’m a good person, I’ll keep my word, even after I kill you. Because I’m good, unlike all you monsters. You Voids.” He spat. “I’ll be hero, killing the famous Stiles Stilinski. I hope you’ve had a good enough life, oh wait, I know you haven’t,” Adam laughed coolly. He grew out his nails until they became sharp claws that dug into his flesh. One of them pierce his skin just barely.

Suddenly, Adam’s smirk disappeared and his skin paled. He began coughing rapidly, blooding pooling into his mouth. Letting go of Stiles’ neck, he sunk to the floor, coughing and wheezing as he gasped for air but nothing came through until eventually the light died in his eyes and his body froze. It took Stiles a couple seconds to realize that he was dead.

Stiles leaned back against the wall, taking deep breaths to recover when he finally looked up to see his savoir. His eyes locked on your form, you stood over his body, panting. You were shaking slightly, him realizing that this was probably the first time you’d killed someone. Stiles knew the feeling, only having killed in self-defense himself. He reached out and grazed his fingers over your arm reassuringly. You eyes snapped up to look into his.

Suddenly, he knew why he had been so attracted to you, and why it was impossible for him to even approach you at first. You both knew. You two were soulmates.

People had told them about the sexual desire you felt when you discovered your soulmate, but he still wasn’t prepared for it. He tried his best to hold back, not wanting to fuck up with you.

That lasted an agonizing 10 seconds.

In an instant, you flew into his arms, kissing him passionately. Your arms wrapped around his neck while he picked you up, legs wrapping around his torso. He turned and pressed your back against the wall. The kiss was rough, teeth and tongues clashing messily together. Your legs were so tightly wrapped around his waist that he was able let one of his hands roam around your body. Grabbing at the top of your shirt, he pulled down harshly, exposing your breasts to him. He grabbed at them roughly, moving his lips down to your neck so he could bite at the sensitive skin, loving the moans that were coming out of you.

He suddenly dropped you, making you stumble slightly on shaky legs. He reached under your skirt and ripped apart your panties, throwing them across the room. You made quick work of the belt on his jeans, unbuckling them and tearing them off. Stiles undid the button on his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxer briefs. His hardened cock bounced up, precum leaking through the slit.

Stiles’ hand sneaked around and grabbed roughly at your ass before wrapping your legs around himself again. He lined himself at your soaked entrance and slammed into you.

“Oh fuck Stiles!” You moaned loudly. He growled at you, sliding out almost completely before slamming back into you. He set a punishing pace, thrusting into you again and again. You leaned your head back into the wall, being thrown into a world of absolute pleasure, you’re eyes rolled back into your head.

“God you’re so fucking tight,” Stiles mumbled into your ear, along with various other obscenities, spurring you on with his filthy words.

The adrenaline from killing Adam, finding your soulmate, and with the way Stiles thrusted up into you hard and fast, the pleasure was building so quickly in your stomach you couldn’t keep up.

“I’m-I’m close” you whimpered.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded, tipping your head forward. You complied, staring into his darkened, lust blown eyes. He lifted his hand, licking the pads of two of his fingers. He slipped his hand under, pressing harshly on your throbbing clit, and you cried out, fire spreading through your veins.

“Cum for me,” he growled in your ear, biting down on your lobe.

Just from his tone, the fire in your stomach broke loose as you came harshly, your core clenching on cock. A few deep thrusts later and he was following suit, his cum shooting up into you, filling you to the brim.

You two stayed like that, your legs wrapped around him, his cock still buried deep within you. Your heartbeats were in sync together, you two enjoying the feeling of being with one another.

Unfortunately, reality came crashing back down. Stiles realized exactly what he’d done: ruined any chance of being able to be your friend. His anxiety took over again, screaming at him for being a fuck-up. He couldn’t have a soulmate; he was a Dark. Void. What kind of life is that for a soulmate?

He dropped you suddenly, and you collapsed on the floor, utterly exhausted. However, you looked at him with worry in your eyes. He ran around, grabbing his belt and re-doing his jeans. He looked at your eyes, and guilt and lust churned in his chest. What the fuck is he supposed to do?

“Stiles…” you whispered.

Then he did the worst possible thing he could’ve done.

He ran.

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