#'you grew so much i hardly recognized you! if we passed each other on the street we probably would've just gotten in an argument haha' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seeingivy · 3 months

Text

heart to heart

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

sukuna realizes that he’s falling in love with you on the anniversary of his grandfather's death. it’s rather morbid, but he deems that it’s fitting.

the more that he lingered on it, the more he realized it. that family – good and bad – was always going to hum in the background to the two of you. though he supposes that’s just because you grew up together, that somehow you were intertwined in all of each other’s firsts.

first day of school, first basketball game, first funeral.

the day itself isn’t one that sukuna likes to dwell on – a memory colored dark, pushed so hard into the deepest, darkest spots of his mind, that sometimes he only realizes the day has passed a week after the fact. regardless, whenever the realization comes to a head – on time or not – the regret is so suffocating he can barely breathe.

it’s why he makes every effort to avoid you when the day comes to pass. it’s something that he does with everyone – ignore them like he has the plague. but it’s a little bit different when it comes to you. it’s not personal, he muses, but at the same time, it most definitely is.

you’re central to the memory.

sukuna’s sitting up, an idle text being sent to both yuuji and his mom, when the knock on the door comes. and he can feel pressure increase in his throat at the sight of you – his brain feeling heavy, this time in a different way – as you balance two mugs in your hand.

if it was any other day, sukuna would have found it very difficult to contain himself. the messy bedhead, glasses perched on the edge of your nose, and the fact that you’re drowning in one of his dress shirts.

sometimes he wondered if you did it on purpose. tried to rile him up just to see how he would react. though on second thought, he almost knows for a fact that you hardly understood what exactly it was that you did to him. how you made his skin feel like it was on fire.

you sit across from him, setting both of the mugs down on the nightstand, before you press your fingertips to his collarbone and push him back on the headboard to use his body as a pillow. you can hear a scoff before sukuna’s hands tangle around your waist, his fingertips ghosting the waistband of what he recognizes as his boxer briefs.

“you know, part of your whole freeloading in my apartment agreement was that you’d steal my shirts. not my underwear too.”

you poke his chest.

“freeloading? need i remind you, that you basically beg me not to leave each time i’m here. and i’m sorry. i spilled the first batch of hot chocolate i made all over my pajamas and my spares are in the laundry.” you state.

hot chocolate.

sukuna knows for sure that you must be doing that on purpose. and that maybe you watch him as keenly as he watches you, because you catch on to his discomfort just as fast.

“i’m sorry if it’s too much.” you whisper.

you watch his adam’s apple bob in his chest, as he leans his head back against the headboard and shuts his eyes. you trace little stars into his skin, right under the tattooed flesh as you try to talk, as softly as possible.

like he’ll run off if you push too hard.

“sukuna. i-i know that this day can be hard. but we can do whatever you want today.”

“i have work.” he states.

“no, you don’t. satoru told me you took the day off already. that you always take it off. and suguru asked me to take care of you.”

sukuna rolls his eyes. idiots.

“what about yuuji? knowing you two, you’ve probably got some whole orate tradition you do. probably use my headshot as a dartboard.”

“it’s actually your yearbook photo.” you defend.

sukuna smiles.

“megumi and nobara have got him covered. i’m here for you.” you state.

sukuna looks down at you, before quickly looking away. he can’t stand your eyes.

“s’just another day, y/n. if anything, you should get the fuck out of my house. make sure my sensitive brother is fine.”

sukuna watches your eye twitch. he feels bad, but swallows it down.

you lift your hands up to cup the sides of his cheek, lightly rubbing your thumbs under his eyes until they open. his light brown eyes flicker to yours and the message comes off just as he intends it.

don’t.

sukuna should have known you’d be stubborn about it.

“sukuna. s’not really fair if we have a power dynamic.”

“i’m two years older than you. you are well of age.” he deadpans.

“i mean. when i tell you about what’s on my mind – insecurities or-or my fights with yuuji or even mazzy – it’s not just spilling out of me because you’re my boyfriend. like i’m so emotional that i rant about my problems to everyone. it’s actually more natural for me to put it away. and i purposely don’t for you.”

sukuna’s intrigued.

“i’m trying to do this right. like, not withhold things from you because i know that you would hate that. the same way that i would hate it, if that’s what you were going to do with me.” you respond.

you rest your cheek against his collarbone, before bending down to press a kiss into his skin.

“s’not a nice feeling. the conversations we have make me feel like i’m standing naked in front of a classroom on display sometimes. but it’s –” you start.

“that sounds like an ideal situation to me.”

you pinch his bicep.

“i mean. it’s not always easy to feel so bare. but i know it’s the right thing to do. and you kind of have to let me in too. i know it might not seem like that to you, because you fell into the caretaker role so quickly with me, but – i’m usually the one who does that type of thing, with everyone else. and i’m not half bad at it.”

sukuna watched you take care of yuuji his whole life. in the moments that sukuna wasn’t there, he knows that you were the one sitting at his side. especially when he took off so fast like he did.

it’s partly the reason that he was able to do it. because he knew that yuuji would be taken care of – and well, too. but it almost feels wrong, too immature of him to go to you with his problems.

how are you ever supposed to come to him again?

“c’mon, baby. anything you want today. we can go back home and eat at the diner. or go to his grave. stay in the entire weekend…” you hum.

it’s the first time that sukuna’s ever heard you use a term of endearment on him. he was never short of them, a constant cycle of his favorites – pretty girl, doll face, angel. it almost seemed wrong to call you by your name at this point, not when he could so openly express his affections and watch you smile at the fact.

but sukuna likes it more than he wants to. being called baby. he never wants you to say anything else again.

he always thought it was a little stupid, an infantile or immature nickname when he watched satoru call suguru as such. especially the way satoru always seemed to beam whenever he did it. he’ll be sure to swallow his retorts the next time.

“i want to go to the sushi place. back home.” he states.

you scoff.

“oh my god. i went on my first date there. got felt up near that fountain.” you respond, scrunching up your nose.

“i got a handjob near that fountain.” sukuna states.

“ew. don’t tell me you….in the fountain?”

he only grins in response.

“ew, sukuna! you’re such a dog.”

“i’ll have mai bring me a nice dress. we’ll go the whole ten miles on a fancy date, like everyone from high school. if you’re lucky, i might even let you touch my butt.”

“could i be so lucky?” he asks.

you pinch the side of his cheek. his response is pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“do you have a pink dress?” he asks.

“sure do. i’ll have her bring that one, okay?”

sukuna drives you to the sushi restaurant. the ride into town is quiet. you’d almost think that sukuna was mad at you for pushing, but his warm hand resting on your thigh silences almost all the qualms in your head.

when you make it there, the mere fact of being there with sukuna leaves you with an odd thought. that if things were different beforehand, you would have been fifteen standing there with him, instead of leaving the restaurant feeling oddly dissatisfied from a guy who really wanted nothing to do with you instead.

“sukuna. party of two.”

“it’ll just be five minutes.”

sukuna gives a kurt nod before dragging you to the other side to lean against the wall, his hand warm on your waist. you pick your brain at the best thing to say – his uncharacteristic silence brimming you with anxiety and making you particularly hyper-vigilant in choosing the right thing to say to him.

"you're beautiful, you know that?" he whispers.

you fight the urge to smile so hard.

"thank you, sukuna. you're beautiful too."

he glares at you.

"you're shitty."

you smirk, before pinching the side of his cheek. of course that was his reaction.

"you're such a cutie pie little baby sometimes I just wanna-" you coo.

"shut the fuck up before I make you." he responds.

"ooh. so scary!"

“i came here for the first time with my grandpa. i'll even tell you about it if you stop being a little bitch for a second.”

you stop.

“yes, sir. ” you respond, saluting.

sukuna smiles in response and it makes your heart skip a beat. that and the fact that you swear you've never seen his eyes so soft.

“so basically –” sukuna starts

“sukuna, y/n? is that you?”

you look over to your left to find one of your old neighbors – so old that you can barely even remember his name – standing at your sides, excitedly waving at the two of you.

“god, it’s been years! you two are so grown now.”

“mr. soma.” sukuna responds.

you find yourself grinning ear to ear at the fact that one, sukuna’s tone is entirely displeased. and two, that there’s no pleasantry laced in with his words.

“y/n. how is your dad? i haven’t seen him around in a while.”

the taste in your mouth is metallic.

“couldn’t tell you! i haven’t seen him either.” you state.

his face pinches up, the pitiful expression that follows causing a subsequent clenching of your jaw.

“sukuna. how’s your father?”

“still a dick.” he states.

you smile. the way he seems to flinch at the bluntness, at sukuna’s demeanor, is solace enough for the double dose of shitty dad comments. he gives you both a polite smile before skirting off, after an awkward round of small talk. university, work, yuuji and sammy and he's off.

you turn to sukuna, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“you okay?”

“obviously. a dumbass with a shitty attitude won’t ruin my mood when i’m here with you. are you?”

“me too.”

sukuna smirks at you.

“really? you're not internalizing every awkward experience that happens to you? have i entered a parallel universe today?”

“i’m a mystery, idiot. you can spend forever trying to figure me out.”

“planning on it.” he responds.

sukuna splits all his sushi with you. if you like a certain plate, he almost refuses to touch it afterwards, just to let you finish all the pieces. and after you say you’re too full, he’s does the job for you – only because you say that you feel bad leaving it to waste when they took the time to make it.

it’s strawberry ice cream afterwards and he makes it very clear that it's only because it’s your favorite. you swing by the store when you get back into the city and eat straight from the tub on the kitchen island.

and over your shared spoon of dessert, sukuna’s voice is almost so quiet you can barely hear it. you think that the ice cold sensation curbs any warm anxiousness that would stop him normally from talking – and you thank your cravings for it.

“my grandpa was the first person who took care of me.”

you press your cheek to his shoulder in response, rubbing circles into his palm as he talks.

“I know it's a natural thing. that when you have a younger sibling, that it takes the attention away from you. i know logically that i had that attention, that i required it when i was a baby too.”

"but?"

"but yuuji's so fucking likeable. i love the idiot and it feels like shit to admit, but i fucking hated that everyone almost forgot about me just because of him."

you pause.

“it’s hard not to like you too.” you state.

“but you know what i mean. i liked taking care of him, until i didn't. he got older and...and sometimes it felt like he didn't even fucking care about half the things i did for him. at one point, i got sick of watching everyone fawn over him so much that it made me upset. i told my mom but...you know how she can be. didn't really register for her. ”

you hum in response.

“my grandpa must have noticed that i had a little bit of resentment towards him, especially when i was in eighth grade. started getting in fights and acting out and all that. and he brought me here. and-and i was pissed at him that i just started fucking yelling at him. about how he didn’t care about me and how i felt unwanted and under-appreciated and…and he agreed with me.”

he pauses, bringing one of his hands up to your hair.

“i like feeling appreciated. valued enough that someone will listen to me and actually believe it. that he wanted to be around me too.” he states.

you pause, your heart clenching so hard in your chest. your stomach nearly drops at the sentiment, at the memory that you can feel tears in your eyes. you’re murderous hatred for sukuna and yuuji’s dad only grows tenfold with every consecutive day – but feels particularly potent now.

you immediately tilt your head up, in efforts to curb yourself from crying – when you’re the one who should be strong for him right now. he, of course, notices right away.

“eh? what’s wrong with you?”

“allergies.”

“did you miraculously get stung by a bee in the past few seconds while we were sitting here?”

you scoff.

“you’re so obsessed with me. you even memorized my medical history!”

“that was in no way romantic. god forbid i know a basic fact about you so you don’t like, literally die on me. now tell me what it is. you basically have to because my grandpa is dead, you know?”

“are you really playing the dead grandpa card?”

“the fact that you called it that was fucking offensive. now you have to tell me.”

you roll your eyes.

“i was just thinking about that day. it makes my heart break that you lost someone who made you feel understood. that you felt alone, even though we were all right there. i hope you know that i find it hard to drag myself away from you sometimes. you're like the only place i want to be." you murmur.

the year before sukuna left, he got into fights often. you remember it vividly – the fact that his mom always seemed to be at your house crying to your mom, while you and yuuji lingered by the doorway for too long listening when you shouldn’t have.

and he’d shuffle in hours later, a purple eye or bloodied knuckles – a wall of silence with zero explanation.

but the worst part is that the one time he got in serious trouble, enough to constitute needing to be picked up from the police station, was cosmically the worst possible day it could have happened.

because sukuna’s grandfather was already dead when you guys got the call. you had all been phoning him for hours and unbeknownst to you, the reason he didn’t pick up is because his phone had gotten taken away. and his mom, yuuji – they were so struck in their own grief that your mom had taken you and sammy with her to go get him.

and now when you think of it – the thought of him sitting there all alone when you found him, the fact that he was sitting there feeling misunderstood made you cry. it was enough to know that you had all unleashed horrible news on him, but even worse to know you were the one to rip his grandfather away from his life.

“i remember that you were the one who told me.” he states.

you nod, affirming his memory.

“you…you were all quiet. was kind of expecting your mom to give me an earful, about being responsible for my mom and yuuji. but she was just quiet. sammy didn’t even look at me. and when i saw you, you were crying. came up right by my side and apologized. you were the first person to give me condolences. made me hot chocolate when you got home because you didn’t know what else to do.” he states.

“yeah. i wish i was more composed or…or could have at least said something better to you. and i still kind of suck with words but i…i hope this helps? at least a little?” you mumble.

sukuna leans forward, curbing any follow-up sentiment you could have had with his lips. you can still taste the strawberry. you murmur against his lips – him pulling you back in every time you try to pull away.

“did you kiss me to shut me up?” you ask.

“do you want a cookie for figuring that one out, genius?” he responds.

you lightly push his chest.

“you’re such a dickhead! let me do the whole supportive, caring girlfriend thing. i can’t just leave you hanging, you know.”

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“doll face.” he deadpans.

you glare at him.

“you are perfect.”

you’re caught off guard.

“i’ve never told anyone any of that before. never even met someone i’ve wanted to tell. quit fucking worrying yourself over whether or not it was good or bad. i’m half convinced that you could be my remedy to anything.”

you can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks at the praise. you bundle the fabric of his collar in your shirt before you pull him forward, pressing your lips to his as softly as you can.

“someone feeling bold today?” he murmurs against your lips.

his hand is warm on your face, cupping the side of your cheek. and when you lean forward, the warmth that surges through you is so deep that you think you might have kissed sukuna too hard. because now you’ve backed him up against the wall, your fingers quickly rushing down the buttons of his shirt.

sukuna’s quick to stop you. hands warm on your wrists and brown eyes widened.

“what are you doing?” he whispers.

“oh. oh, i don’t know. it…it just kinda came over me. sorry. just like..felt super close to you there for a second and i felt it like…rumbling in my chest.”

sukuna’s brings his forehead against yours. his eyes are pinched shut, almost straining, his breaths quiet.

“i want to do something. but you have to tell me if it’s going to make you feel uncomfortable.” you ask.

“okay.” sukuna responds.

“don’t even think about fucking lying to me. i’ll know.”

"yeah right."

“i mean it.” you grates.

“just tell me.” he responds.

“okay, but-”

“y/n l/n.”

you pause.

“can you take a bath with me?”

he pulls back.

“what?”

“a bath. suguru gifted us these bath salt and stuff. he said it was a gift for you. told me you like that kind of thing.”

“he's always gifting some weird therapy shit to me.” he states.

"therapeutic." you correct.

“one day i’m going to curb your fucking attitude and you’re not going to like it one bit.”

you smile.

“i hate you. i’ll take my bath on my own then.” you respond.

he yanks hard on his arm.

“okay. if it's uncomfortable, we get out.”

you nod. you get in first, quickly leaing against the wall and hiding under the warm bubbles, as he follows suit. weirdly enough, sukuna's first instinct is to go to the other side, the farthest from you, but you stop by pulling on his wrist.

"c'mhere. just lean against me." you murmur.

it’s a little bit awkward at first. because sukuna's the one wound up instead of you.

“can you relax for me?” you whisper.

“right. sorry.”

he leans back, your skin prickling, as he settles his head against your chest. he's looking up at you, his eyes fixed on yours, but you can’t help but stare at his skin - freckles and moles that you’ve never had the opportunity to notice sparkling his skin.

“thank you.” he whispers.

“for?”

he scoffs.

“y/n.” he chides.

“use your big boy words!” you coo.

“shut the fuck up.”

“c’mon. you've got it in you.”

“you know what i want to say.”

“of course i do. i know you’re really glad that i have an innie belly button instead of an outie.”

sukuna nearly chokes on his spit.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i know that outies freak you out. you don’t have to say it.”

sukuna stops himself from saying it.

that he's falling in love with you.

it’s right on the tip of his tongue. but he knows that it’s too fast so he swallows it down. that and the fact that it would be fucking insane if he said that to follow up your stupid joke about inne and outie belly buttons.

“baby, we should really donate your brain to science. i think you could advance neuroscience fifty years into the future.” sukuna states.

“take that back, asshole.” you respond.

“make me.”

you yank hard on his hair, before fixing your hands back in his locks and pushing the matted wet hair off of his forehead. sukuna leaves a kiss in your hands, before he seems to wander off somewhere else, almost like he's deep in thought.

you grant him the quietness. sukuna loves you even more for it.

next part linked here

an: ICK CHAPTER BUT WHATEVER

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartsss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

518 notes · View notes

televised-eyes · 3 months

Text

A Fluffy Fic for Valentine’s Day!

(I wrote this in a flash on the notes app for fun. Sorry for grammar mistakes in advance! Enjoy!)

It had been a fine evening. A warm, dry night settled over London. Groups of locals and tourists alike swarmed the city in high spirits.

Crowley waited in the Bentley, rapping his knuckles against the steering wheel to the tune of Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now,” as it played gently from the stereo. He glanced at his wristwatch. Always late, he thought.

Aziraphale appeared in the doorway of his bookshop with an older couple, who had roamed the shop long after he had wished to close it. The angel politely spoke with the man and woman, who went on for some time about their affinity with both the shop and its owner. Aziraphale listened and smiled brightly.

Crowley watched the interaction with little patience. With the wave of his hand, the older couple suddenly remember they had an appointment elsewhere and excused themselves so that Aziraphale was free to lock up the doors and head towards the Bentley’s passenger seat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Aziraphale, gently chiding the demon. “They had been telling me the loveliest story, how they had met at the bookshop many years ago and have been married ever since.”

“You’re too sentimental, angel,” said Crowley. He shifted the car into drive. “And it’s rude for them to stay past closing time, especially when we have a reservation at the Ritz.”

“They won’t give up our table,” Aziraphale assured him. “They never have and they never will.”

A knowing smile flashed across Crowley’s lips. Any other observer would not have seen it at all, but Aziraphale knew better. After six millennia in each other’s company, the angel knew Crowley’s facial ticks better than any being, living or dead, supernatural or mortal. “What?” Crowley said.

“Oh, nothing,” said Aziraphale smiling to himself. He took pride in knowing the demon so well, although it was not something he would tell anyone else. He hardly recognized it himself. “You were early.”

“No,” hissed Crowley. “I’m never early. You were late.”

“Well, only a few minutes,” Aziraphale rolled down the window. A group of young people on the sidewalk were laughing and jeering at one another as they passed. “What an extraordinary evening.”

“What’s so extraordinary about it?” Crowley said.

“Oh, it feels…” Aziraphale breathed in. “Loved. There’s love in the air, if you will excuse the old expression.”

Nightingales? Crowley thought, not daring to say it out loud. Saying it out loud would be akin to death. Aziraphale was already in a romantic mood. If Crowley pushed it, there would be even longer, more aching looks from the angel the whole evening. And Crowley would be paralyzed by them, drowning in those blue eyes until next week. All his cool reserve would break under the pressure.

Crowley felt himself growing soft.

In all their history, they had never spent so much time together as they had the past few years. With the apocalypse averted and their respective offices off their backs, they had more free time than ever. Long walks, picnics, visits to the Ritz. More and more time spent huddled around candlelight in the evenings at Aziraphale’s bookshop.

Crowley’s plants began to outgrow the Bentley and Aziraphale insisted on placing them in the shop’s windows. Aziraphale spoiled them with encouraging whispers, much to Crowley’s audible displeasure, but they sprouted and grew larger than ever.

They dined at their usual table. Bubbles of champagne twinkled under the low lighting. Aziraphale spoke with animation as Crowley watched him from behind his dark glasses, responding now and then, but mostly letting Aziraphale lead the conversation. If Crowley were attuned to such things, he would expect the whole room was besotted, drunk on serotonin and all the other chemicals that cause pleasure in the human brain.

—

Crowley drove them back, having absolved some of the alcohol in his system. Aziraphale remained in high spirits. They pulled up outside the bookshop.

“Would you like to come in?” Aziraphale offered. “I have a marvelous vintage in the back.”

“Would you like that?” Crowley said.

“Of course,” the angel smiled. “You’re always welcomed, you know that.”

It was the kind of astonishing statement Aziraphale would typically walk back once the meaning of it settled between them, but this time he didn’t. He smiled at Crowley with such fondness that it made something in Crowley’s chest flutter.

They sat on an old velvet couch, side by side, as Aziraphale opened the bottle and poured two glasses.

“You’re in a good mood tonight, angel,” Crowley remarked.

Aziraphale blushed.

“What is it, then?” He continued.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You have two reasons to smile like that. Either you found some extraordinary rare edition or you’ve done something clever and need to tell someone.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale blushed harder. “I’m just happy, I guess.”

“Well, you and the whole street,” said Crowley. “If I didn’t know better, you’ve enthralled the whole city, lampposts and all.”

“And you?”

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

That hit Crowley like a freight train. He was suddenly very self aware of his body’s close proximity to Aziraphale’s. Heat was creeping into his face.

“Ngk,” he said, voice cracking.

They were inched apart. Crowley noticed Aziraphale’s uneven breathing, the way his eyes kept flicking to Crowley’s lips. Crowley’s free hand which had been resting across the back of the sofa fell so that it was resting directly behind Aziraphale, not quite touching the angel, but very close.

His head swirled. He found himself leaning into Aziraphale’s space, body heat radiating off each other in waves.

“Angel—“

Before Crowley could finish his thought, Aziraphale’s lips lightly brushed against the corner of Crowley’s mouth. Adrenaline kicked in and Crowley claimed Aziraphale’s bottom lip with his own.

“Do you know what day it is today?” Aziraphale said, pulling away.

“Don’t torture me, angel,” Crowley whined. He swooped back in, closing the small gap between them. His hand firmly holding on the back of his neck as he slid his wet lips against the angel’s. Aziraphale hesitated a moment before melting into his embrace and Crowley gasped from pure relief.

The kiss was hurried and desperate. Bodies hot and hands gripping frantically at each other's clothes. Aziraphale opened his mouth and their tongues briefly brushed. Crowley pulled away, his body reacting instantly, before diving back in for more.

It dissolved into a slow, hot swirl of lips and tongue and teeth. Crowley’s head was spinning, his body aching with each soft noise that escaped the angel’s warm mouth.

“It’s St. Valentine’s Day, my dear,” Aziraphale said breathlessly between kisses.

“Is it really? Righteous prick, he was,” Crowley pushed off Aziraphale waist coat and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale chided, melting into the trail of kisses being left down his jaw and neck. “He was not.”

“Don’t care.” Suddenly, Crowley stood up and took Aziraphale’s wine glass out of his hand, placing it firmly on the desk beside them and taking the angel’s hand.

“Where are we going?” Aziraphale asked, disoriented.

“Bedroom. Now.” Crowley pulled the angel’s hand toward him. “To celebrate properly.”

Aziraphale blushed and let himself be lead away.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #fanfic #fanfiction #valentines day #mine #what have i done #this is my last resort

27 notes · View notes

cienie-isengardu · 4 months

Note

I feel like a lot of Kuai's clothes were just Bi-Han's hand-me-downs when Bi-Han got too big and they just threw it at Kuai since Kuai would be growing into it.

Not all of them were but I imagine a good portion of his clothes used to be Bi-Han's, especially before puberty.

I feel that will depend a lot on the timeline, socio-economic situation of Lin Kuei and how big the age gap is between brothers.

For example, if in the new timeline Sub-Zero and Scorpion’s family is treated like a true Royals, then Kuai Liang as the second-in-line to the “throne” is less likely to wear hand-down clothes, unless the cloth has traditional importance, like it happens with some items passed down from one generation to another. And that could be as much about Grandmaster and his wife’s wish to give only the best to their sons as much as a matter of prestige and upholding their social status.

However, if despite the importance of the Grandmaster's role in leading the clan, Lin Kuei is in fact a large family unit first and foremost, with close personal bonds, I can see the clothes being handed down as a common practice - especially if the clan resources are limited. I mean, we hardly have any idea what Lin Kuei economy is based on in time of peace and there is something to say about Sub-Zero’s delight about spoils of war to which Scorpion did not disagree with the sole idea of spoils, only that they must first win the war.

Like, is Lin Kuei big enough to be a whole nation, with its industry, farming, cities and trade or do they live in isolated, self -sufficient society hidden from everyone else? Because to make clothes in the traditional way, you need specialized workers to hand -woven material in the first place, which takes time and a lot of hard work. The Lin Kuei brothers’ uniforms were most likely individually tailored which makes sense, as they are Grandmaster’s sons but also grown up and skilled men that worked hard to to be recognized as the warriors of the clan, but back in the time when they were children? It would be easier to store Bi-Han’s clothes until younger brothers grow up enough to wear them than to lose the limited material resources, as Kuai and presumably Tomas would outgrow the new clothes in a few months.

(Also, I’m speaking here from my family experiences, in which the clothes for babies and children were passed down between so many people over the course of years. So I’m here for Lin Kuei being the close-knit family that doesn’t mind hand down clothes between all the children as a way of supporting each other and providing the needed items. If Grandmaster’s family is a bigger unit, Bi-Han too could wear the hand down clothes before he grew up enough to get his own sets.)

Additionally, if Bi-Han and Kuai Liang (and Tomas) were close in age, the passing down of clothes feels natural and sensible. However if Bi-Han is older than 6-10 years or more, I don’t think his parents would store his baby/childhood clothes to collect dust and take up space in the closet, unless they planned to have another child at some point.

As for the previous timelines, I think the situation is more complicated, because both Kuai Liang and Bi-Han were children forced into Lin Kuei. And a clan that kidnapped children to turn them into killers doesn’t sound like someone who would care what Bi-Han and Kuai Liang wished to wear or after whom they got their clothes.

The clan definitely provided its adepts with the necessary daily life items, but there is a question how much any of them actually owned anything? If adepts got the second-handed clothes and things were passed down between all children, both Kuai Liang and Bi-Han had a small chance to be given a choice what is given to them (unless the original timeline!father had a say in that regard). Could Bi-Han keep his old clothes, as in, have a place to store them for Kuai Liang when he was big enough to wear it? Could he even hand down his clothes in the first place, or would the clan treat it as mandatory equipment and "losing" anything were punished? I feel that in both original and alternative timelines none of the boys have a control over the clothes provided them by clan and if Lin Kuei practiced passing down clothes from one adept to another, as a cheaper and more pragmatic way in regard to fast growing up children, Kuai Liang may not necessary getting old Bi-Han’s clothes.

#mortal kombat #my replies #kuai liang #bi han #sub zero #scorpion #as the youngest kid for awhile in my family i get the handed down clothes after the older sibling(s) but also i remember how clothes #of my nephews were passed down to another babies to help and support so i can see this practice in lin kuei #especially the old versions and close knit family in mk1 #however if the grandmaster's family is treated as royals/ruling class i feel kuai liang would be provided only with new clothes #and so would be tomas

25 notes · View notes

brewsterispunkk · 11 months

Text

crawl home to her

here’s a snippet from an upcoming chapter of my aemond targaryen x f!oc fic, crawl home to her. find it on ao3 !! hope you enjoy🖤🐉

-~-

“Hmm,” he hums, before tilting his head. “Still, I had hoped they were wrong.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s an abomination for a bastard to mount a dragon.”

Her lip curls.

“As I recall, all of my brothers mounted dragons before you,” she counters.

Aemond tilts his head and takes a step toward her. Instinctively, Laenora takes a step back, her spine hitting the bookshelf. Aemond runs his hand along the shelf to her opposite side as he approaches.

“And yet I am the one who mounted the Queen of the dragons.” He said, before pursing his lips. “But that is neither here nor there. When I saw the giant black beast descend into the dragon pit, I could hardly believe it. The rumors were true. Do you know what they began to call you, niece? Once you left here?”

Laenora is silent. Aemond takes her silence as an invitation to invade her space. He takes a step closer, so close that she can smell the leather of his training gear.

“The bastard heir.” His lips twitched into a smile. “Fitting.”

“And what is it you think they call you?” She raises her chin to meet his eye. She will not back down from him, no matter how intimidating he tries to be. “One-eye? Oh no. The ‘one-eyed prince.’”

He grasps her chin with one hand, his hand shooting up. His eyes burn as he forces her eyes to level with his one.

“Watch your tongue, lest you find it missing.”

“I would like to see you try.” She smiles. “Maiming an heir to the Iron Throne is treason.”

“Oh is it?” He tilts his head, grip tightening on her chin. “Members of our house have maimed each other with no consequences before, or don’t you remember?”

Her smile drops.

Ah yes, that. The elephant in the room. Driftmark. The last words Aemond had spoken to her were “bastard.” And now, this. Aemond, trying to blame her for what happened that night. She would not have it.

She shoves him away with all her upper body strength, but he barely moves an inch. She curses herself for spending more time in the water than training with her brothers, like Daemon insists. Aemond falls back a step.

“Yes,” Laenora spits. “I seem to remember your mother cutting mine with no repercussions suffered.”

Aemond scoffs.

“You know that is not to what I am referring.”

“And to what are you referring?”

He sneers and stares at her, icy eye piercing. No matter how much time has passed, he can still see right through her. No matter what kind of monster he has become, she cannot stop herself from seeing a bit of that boy that she grew up with, deep down.

She levels her gaze with his, eyes narrowed.

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “I knew you to be weak, niece, but I never took you for a craven.”

“A—craven?” Laenora spits, reeling. “You are the one who tried to murder a boy half your size!”

“And there she is,” his lips twist in a cruel smile. “As cruel as I remember. Need I remind you who walked away from that ordeal maimed?”

Laenora narrows her eyes.

“They were defending themselves.”

“Even you cannot be so naive as to believe that.”

“You should know something of naivety, uncle. Since you are so obviously gloating in what you suspect will be a victory tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Aemond huffs a humorless laugh. “The matter of succession.”

“You are fooling yourself if you believe anyone other than my brother will be named Lord of the Tides. The king will not allow it.”

“The king is ill,” Aemond all but interrupts her. “Weak. He does not know day from night. Most days he cannot recognize my mother. He will be no help to you.”

“We both believe twisted things, it seems.”

“Indeed,” he hums, eye holding hers.

They stay like that for longer than she can tell, eyes met, the air between them electric, before the faint ringing of bells causes her eyes to snap away.

By the time she looks back up, he has already turned away and begun to stride out of the library, his shoes echoing against the stones

#aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fic rec #aemond targaryen ficrec #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond

20 notes · View notes

cynettic · 3 years

Note

hi, i hope i'm not bothering you, but i can order a Scaramouche × Kitsune reader, the two met before the vision hunt (and before he was a fatui if you want) the reader was always in the same place, sometimes having a conversation , the good old routine, but with the hunting of visions the reader disappeared not wanting to give up his own vision, and years later a reunion, SFW or NSFW is by your will, thank you, I really admire your work

Summary - Scaramouche met you as a child, growing up with the constant assurance that you would be right there, sitting at your spot where he could meet you with every visit. He isn't happy when you suddenly disappear.

Pairing - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warning - Slight Yandere warnings?

Penpal - Ahhh- hope this is what you were looking for. I couldn't find a spot to put much nsfw unless I considered writing more for the series ( I could, just put a request in if thats what you’re looking for ). But I hope you liked it!! You're not bothering me at all and I'm glad you like my work!

A/N - Alright- so considering that with the 2.1 update with Scaramouche coming in, I just wanna state beforehand that I wrote this prior so I dont know if we learn about his backstory or anything!!

Link for Part 2

Stay With Me

Scaramouche was used to the routine he’d found himself going along with every visit to Inazuma. As a child he’d pass through the wild fields that stretched just beside his hometown, adventurous and curious with all the tenacity of a child.

And of course you, a kitsune that sat perched on the ground awaiting the Kitsune Saiguu, was bound to notice him. Unlike the other earth kitsune statues, you hadnt turned to stone during your wait. Instead, staying in the same place did you interact with travellers and the locals, which included Scaramouche.

“Fox person!” The little boy chanted, pulling at the hems of your clothing. Bright blue eyes bore into your own, and you slowly shifted your head to pay attention to the boy who was on the verge of bouncing on you.

Humming in reply to his excitement, the little boy paused, both of his small hands still tightly clasping the fabric of your clothes. Soft matted hair brushed past his face in a messy manner, calling out the boy for his boundless running and rebellious urge to keep his hair messy despite his parents wishes.

“Play with me!”

Staring at the boy only a moment longer, you simply chuckled at his antics. “I’m afraid I cannot move from the spot in which I dwell~ Perhaps I’ll be able to entertain you if you bring cards?”

But the young boy had made up his mind at the statement to which you couldn't move. A pitiful frown enfluged his face as he cast you the nastiest glare a five year old could muster. “Boring!” He shouted into the distance of the fields, dramatically turning on his heels and bouncing up into a sprint away. You watched his small figure fade away into the background, absentmindedly sighing and returning to your mindless thoughts.

As a child, Scaramouche would pass by you fairly often. Frequent when he asked you to play with him, and storming away with the same expression when you denied him. Nothing out of the ordinary, you’d lived for an exceptional amount of time, and even though grumpy children were not your specialty, you’d grown accustomed to their behaviour.

Growing up, Scaramouche got no better. You soon noticed his violent tendencies before they became an issue, the way the children shied away from him when playing Temari. Hiding in front of a tough exterior, he scared them away and laughed, approaching you later with tearful sob.

“Will you play with me?” He asked again, trying to hide the fact that he still wept when the other children pushed him away.

But your answer stayed the same, helping him wipe his tears and coaxing him into your arms. Not the first time you’d made contact with a human, but the first time you held them in such an affectionate manner.

It was clear Scaramouche was beginning to see you as some sort of pillar of reassurance when he began running away from home to simply ask to be held. You always welcomed him with open arms, urging him to head back to his household and sort things out. There was no harm in simply providing love and comfort for a child who received none was there?

“Now now, hurry back home little one. Your parents must be growing awfully worried if you’re out by this time at night.”

“My parents dont care about me!”

Darkness slowly pooled into the fields, an obscure shade covering the two of you from the tree you were under. Biting back form your normal emotionless statements, you pondered for something to soothe and convince the boy. Misunderstandings and hardships were normal from what youd seen with children, and you could only offer your hand on his shoulder, a promise. “Go back, I promise to stay here if anything further happens. But you shold give them another chance dont you think?”

And so he’d sprint back to his hometown, and you wouldnt hear from him again till he ran up right up to you a few days later. Begging you to play a game with him. The normal you supposed, and with a grin that seemed to stretch wider with every day, you told him the same thing you told him every single time.

“You cant move?!” Scaramouche nearly yelled one time, tiny fists curling at his side. “Thats… thats stupid!”

“It is isnt it?” You only smiled in response.

Unsatisfied with your response, he clawed your arm, pulling you with all his might. Strong, you realized with surprise that he was much stronger than most children his age. Easy enough to tug away from, but strong enough to take you off guard.

Snapping your hand back to your side, you narrowed your eyes. You weren't angry… no, you hadnt felt strong feelings like that after the disappearance of the Kitsune Saiguu. “Do not attempt to move me,” was your curt response, said in the most stern voice you’d used with the boy.

He’d looked at you only a few seconds longer before bursting into tears, turning away and running. You didn't feel regretful for defending yourself, only turning once more with a tired sigh to stare at the distance.

But just as you stayed ageless, Scaramouche grew older. Still, crossing each others pass was inevitable when you sat in the plains, just alongside the path that lead to his hometown.

With a permanent scowl that seemed to stain his face, he still seemed to have mature a tad bit. Maybe hadnt improved in the social department, because he now scared children and adults and alike, but more mature…

“Hm? Whats this?”

Once again, sitting criss cross under the large tree that provided the perfect shade on sunny days, you stared at the boy expectantly. His hands hesitated at your question, but he resumed shuffling. “Cards,” he simply said in response.

A small featherlike feeling flitted across your chest, making you feel lighter and… almost ticklish. A small smile crossed your face, and you recognized the emotion to be one of adoration. For him to have remembered words you’d spoken years ago, it gave you a warmth you’d sorely missed. A warmth akin to watching him and the other children grow up.

“Ew, dont smile like that, its creepy.”

Swatting at his head, he frowned further when you laughed. “You’re more mature,” you pointed out, lazily leaning back. “You need to work on your people skills though, as someone who hasnt moved in years, thats pitiful that I know more than you.”

“Shut it!”

But as he grew up, you hardly got to see much of him. He’d reached your height and then fully disappeared, leaving no goodbye. And much as you hated to admit it, you hardly noticed, not when days passed in a flurry. You were used to being by yourself, entertaining the kids and greeting the people that passed by.

Sometimes, there’d be the reminder of the warmth he’d given you. But it was quickly overshadowed by your duty to remain seated in wait for the Kitsune Saiguu. A dedication kept in its earnest, but beginning to dwindle.

Inazuma was beginning to change.

“The vision decree…” you repeated, staring at the traveller who’d mentioned it to you. “Care to elaborate?”

The new archon threatenening to take away visions from every inhabitant of Inazuma. It was preposterous, so much that you didnt move. Your vision meant the world to you, but so did the Kitsune Saiguu. You werent sure just how you weighed the two till you saw civilians passing by you, ones you recognized, ones that didnt recognize themselves.

It was snowing, cold snowflakes melting into your skin while your hair soaked in the water. Unflinching, you hummed to a little tune, awaiting someone to pass you so that you could attempt to strike a conversation of somesort. The unnatural weather distanced all who entered the field though, and you simply waited. For the Kitsune Saiguu, for someone, or for some form of entertainment, you didnt know. You Slowly closing your eyes, you decided not to care.

“Im gone for five years and you’re still sitting here like a dumbass.”

Eyes snapping open, you find yourself face to face with a complete stranger. Dark purple hair with dark blue eyes, piercing and dangerous in a way you dont recognize at all. Fancy clothing that you cant identify or put a name on.

The boy took a step towards you, crouching down to stare at you directly. His eyes scanned over your figure briefly, and he brushed the snow out of your hair and ears with one flick of his hand. In the next, he was offering a coat to you. “Take it, you’re probably getting cold.”

You leaned forward, ignoring the coat he offered you. Gently, you raised your hand to brush the hair from his eyes, centred on the way his pupils widened. Offering a small moment of surprise and one glimpse into the small childlike blue eyed wonder he was. “Kiddo,” you breathed, pulling your hand back and scanning him once again. “You’ve grown.”

“And you havent.”

Snickering at his comment, you took the coat. You didnt need it, but he looked like he didnt either. He was already wearing clothing that kept him warm, and with careful observation and an untouched coat, you settled on the fact that he’d brought it here. Brought the coat here for you.

“Still havent improved with those social skills of yours have you?”

He scoffed, letting himself fall back till he was sitting fully. “I dont want to hear it from someone who refuses to move an inch for years. Lazy ass.”

You open your mouth to retort, but instead laugh at his comment, shaking your head. “Gained some humour on your journeys have you? Bad words too it seems. Anyways...” He had sat down, which meant that he meant fully well to sit, chat, and catch up. That familiar warmth filled your chest, a contrast between the cold snow. “Welcome back.”

It wasnt often that Scaramouche visited Inazuma, but when he did, he was sure to visit you. The two of you would sit down for hours, talking about the most trivial topics. He never mentioned what he did in his time away, and you never asked.

But things began to go downhill when news of the vision decree finally took action.

“Its no joke anymore! The Raiden Shogun has taken custody of almost a hundred visions!”

In that moment you made your decision, weighing your vision over the Kitsune Saiguu. Awfully selfish you knew, but you’d spent decades sitting there in wait.

And for the first time you sat up from your position on the ground, clumsily stumbling upright but gaining balance. It takes a few steps until you’re back to normal, and you begin your journey in order to escape the Raiden Shogun’s vision hunt decree.

_-_-_-_

You didnt expect to see him again.

Long grass tickled at the skin of your legs, making you adjust your footing to no avail. Sun slowly descending past the mountains to mark the start of an evening and the soon approaching night. A normal day of exploring the mountains and islands of Inazuma, observing the constant changing situation, and running away from the vision decree like a favourite past-time.

With the exception of a firm grip on your wrist.

Dark purple like hair, same hate brimmed eyes and lavish clothing. You recognized Scaramouche the moment he had appeared, looking just as surprised as you were. That being before he snatched your wrist and snarled, “You.”

You wouldve considered it pure luck to find him, an unexpected reunion with someone you actually remembered. But no, his tone had some predatorial edge to it that had you cringing. Hard. “Yes, its me.” You answered back with a frown, trying to loosen his hold. “Nice to see you too, is something the matter?”

He only seemed confused at your words, pulling you closer.

“Something the matter?” He asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, to start, you’re not sitting at your damn spot.”

Taken aback for a moment, you wondered if that sole fact was what drove the boy to such lengths. Surely he couldn't be so troubled over the fact that you moved… “The vision hunt decree, I'm sure I mentioned that I was sticking around in wait for the Kitsune Saiguu. I decided to wander around and avoid the conflict until I could settle back.”

“You could’ve waited for me,” he stated almost instantly. “I could have protected you.”

You felt your brows furrow quizzically. “Wait for you? Why in the world would I-”

“Why wouldn't I?” He pushed you closer till he could fully grab both wrists, taking a step closer as if his words would resonate clearer in your head. “You took care of me as a child, it would only be fair for me to repay the favour.” But he only seemed to be looking for excuses. “And besides, you can't just up and leave… I didn't know.”

Before you could interject with the obvious answer that he didn't need to know, you stopped. You’d lived decades, nearly centuries if you’d kept count, and you had learned to read people's expressions even when you’d stayed away from them for so long. He didn't know. It hit you in the most unpleasant way that he wasn't aware that it was none of his concern. To him, you were just another thing he needed to keep track of, something he had control over. His face basically screamed, ‘I depended on you to stay in that place.’

Deep breath in and out. You’d lived long, longer than him, you could deal with a child throwing a tantrum.

“Don't worry,” you gestured to the vision ta your side. “I'm strong enough to protect myself, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be back when the vision decree ends.”

Unconvinced, he pulled you closer, just until your faces were mere inches away from each other. “No,” he said in a stern voice. “I’d rather you by my side, where I can protect you. I hate to question what you’re capable of, but you’ve been sitting down for as long as I’ve known you for.”

“I’ve lived decades more than you,” a simple reply, hopefully enough to get by him. You snatched your hands back with ease, ears flinching slightly when a cold breeze swept past you. But you stayed firm, not wanting to look vulnerable against the imposing air he had around him.

Still unconvinced. “You’re coming with me.”

“No I’m not.”

You’d known him as a kid, watched him grow up along with all the other small ones in his hometown. And maybe you admit you cared a smudge bit about the warmth he gave you when settling down to play cards, but he was different. He had changed in the worst way and you weren't about to deal with it.

“So you’re not coming with me voluntarily?” He asked softly, taking a small step to which you responded by stepping back. He had his hands up, as if telling you he wouldn't hurt you. But the way he said voluntarily sent shivers up your spine.

“No.” Hand on your vision, you held your own hand up threateningly.

He took his time when tilting his head, taking a deep breath in, and then appearing in front of you in just a short stride. Too quick to react, you hesitated before you could attack him. You didn't want to hurt him, he was still a child in your eyes, and you paid the consequences for that. He slid his hand just along your neck, and a jolt of electricity seemed to thrum inside you just as you collapsed in his arms.

Scaramouche was quick to catch you, hoisting you up into his arms dearly. “I do hope you’ll come to understand,” he said softly, cradling your unconscious form in his arms. Making sure not to crush your tail when carrying your legs, he looked past the mountains, sigh resting on his lips.

Because Scaramouche liked to have control of the things he held dear. Like keeping all your valuables neat and tidy in a closet, he was happy knowing you were safe and stable in that spot you always sat on.

And he couldn't have you moving could he?

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin oneshot #genshin fanfic #genshin scaramouche #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #cynshealthysfw #genshin fluff

1K notes · View notes

helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Note

pspspsp can I just request an immortal reader who's life is just dull/sad as hell since they've seen their loved ones leave or die in front of them so many times

but when they meet SBI or anyone, their life just suddenly brightens up? (Platonic and it can be any type of fic!)

(A/N): I got waaaayy too carried away with this. Star god reader my beloved (also, I’d imagine that your cloak looks like this guy’s but on the inside with the outsides being any color of your choice (credit goes to original artist))

If you want more god!reader content with the dream smp, @wooloo-inc has a really good series about a male!nature god!reader (aka, the god of dilf collection)

In the beginning when DreamXD created you (which if you think about it, that makes him your father, but I digress) from stardust and meteorite shards, you were a ball of fun loving sunshine (well, starshine?)

You loved watching over all of humankind, admiring their determination and bonds with other humans (both romantic and platonic)

Your older brother, the god of the moon, told you about how they viewed you and you were amazed

“Oberon?” You ran up to your older brother and tugged on his cloak making him hum in question, not looking up from his parchment scroll. “What- what do the humans think of me?”

He scoffed and glanced at you with his lily white irises, “why are you on about them again? They are lowly creatures compared to us, filled with greed and misfortune.”

“They worship us and that’s how you speak of them?”

“(Y/n) believe me, you have not seen the brutality they are capable of. War, famine, greed, plague, genocide, it’s all something you have not witnessed before. You have only seen the good in those things.”

“But Oberon, I wanna-” he lightly smacked the side of your head, “use proper English. We are gods and you will behave as such.”

You huffed, “I want to know about how they view us! I do not care about the bad things they have done! Plleeeaaassseeeeeee Beri?” You willed the stars that constantly gleamed in your eyes to shine brighter as you fluttered your eyelashes at him. He may seem like he hated everyone and everything (especially his siblings), but he had a soft spot for his youngest sibling. He just stared at you for a bit before he sighed and shifted in the massive throne so that you could hop up onto his lap. With a wave of a slender pale hand, he conjured up various images of humans with stardust gazing at the stars and the moon with carefree swipes of his hand.

“They view us as… poetic of sorts. They compare us to romance,” an image of two human males kissing then gazing into the stars laying down on a cliff came into view, “fortune tellers,” an image of the Aquarius and the Capricorn constellations popped up making you squeal in happiness. He chucked and changed the picture to a mother and son standing over a grave looking up in amazement at a shooting star, “and most importantly, as a sign of hope.

“They see us as complementary, the moon and the stars cannot be as beautiful without the other. We hold the power of the night and everything it touches, (y/n). This is our kingdom, do not forget that,” the image changed to the moon surrounded by stars and swirling blues and purples of nebulas.

You looked at the images with awe, absorbing every word that fell from his mouth. “Beri?” He once again hummed, his deep baritone voice sending vibrations along your back. “Will we be together forever?”

His lanky arms wrapped around your much smaller frame, “for all of eternity. The moon is nothing without the night sky and all of the stars it holds.”

Centuries passed and your fascination with humans only grew from there

When you eventually asked if you could meet a human Oberon reacted angrily and forbade you from speaking of humans again in your shared palace, worried for your safety

When he caught you attempting to sneak out, he locked you in your room for months on end

Humans wondered why the stars hardly appeared in the night sky anymore, forming the theory that they had somehow angered you

They prayed to you more and more, begging and groveling for forgiveness

They left more offerings at shrines

You heard their every word, feeling your heartbreak with sorrow and guilt for your lovely humans

You snuck out of the palace that night determined to make it up to the humans

You quietly snuck past the main room where you and Oberon used to sit on your thrones together and control the night. The large doors were cracked open showing your older brother watching the night with boredom. As you passed, his voice startled you, “I just cannot stop you can I?”

He appeared in the doorframe looking at you emotionlessly, his eyes glinting with hidden pain. “Do you realize how cruel of a place that world is? How cruel humans are?”

“I do not care, brother! They are in anguish because they think I am angry with them! Because you locked me in here!”

“I have told you time and time again, they are ruthless creatures. Humans are constantly clashing with their own kind for the slightest bit of power, they’re greedy creatures! Have you forgotten what happened to Arachnia?”

A shiver went down your spine at the mention of your fellow deity. She wanted to be with humans but they stripped her of her grace and virtuosity, torturing her when the moon would rise. That is the reason spiders attack humans in the night when the moon and stars show themselves and are dormant in the daytime. However, that did not deter you.

“I have not forgotten what happened to Arachnia, her tale fills me with grief. But not all humans are like that! They are compassionate, loving, and sweet creatures deep down, each and every single one of them!”

“They were not showing compassion or love when they tore Arachnia limb from limb! When they languish in riches while millions die around them! What part of that is compassionate?”

“Sure they do bad things sometimes, but have you forgotten the love they hold for each other? The determination and hope shining from within them when they pray to us? Have you forgotten that?”

“THEIR ACTIONS ARE NOT JUSTIFIED IN ANY WAY!”

“AND OURS ARE? YOU ARE BLIND, OBERON. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE CRUELTY THE GODS HAVE SUBJECTED HUMANS TO? WHEN OUR FATHER TOOK YEARS AWAY FROM THEIR LIFESPANS SOLELY BECAUSE THEY STOPPED WORSHIPPING HIM AS OFTEN AS THEY USED TO? WHAT PART OF THAT IS JUSTIFIED?”

He just stared at you with angry irises and his chest heaving before he ran a hand through his long ivory hair and turned around, the flowing white cape flowing wildly behind him with unseen air. He walked back into the observation room and back to his throne. Without a second glance to you, he worked on the transition of power between the sun and moon. You could imagine your sister Aelia grinning brightly as she rose the sun for the day.

“You are to never return here if you step foot out that door. You will still have control of your duties of the night. However you will never return. Do not come back groveling for forgiveness when I have given you constant warnings of their cruelty. If I see your face show up here, I will make sure father smites you down. Now get out of my sight.”

You huffed and whipped around to the front entrance, the stars that constantly twinkled and the nebulas that constantly swirled in the inside of your cloak illuminating the white floors below you as you ran. You left the palace without a second thought, leaving your old life behind in favor of spending it with the humans.

When you came crashing to the Earth in a shooting star, you were amazed by the beauty of it up close and in person

It was everything you expected and then some

You heard the humans cheering and thanking you in their prayers when the stars returned brighter than usual

You being completely enamoured by all of the humans, even if they recognized you or not you loved them all unconditionally

You set up a little cottage in the tundra where you could see the night sky clearly with the occasional aurora borealis

From the roof, you controlled the stars

The tales of you defecting from the heavens was a popular one, and you became somewhat of a symbol of the hope that humanity should hold for themselves and compassion

Occasionally sending shooting stars over humans you knew were stargazing

You have met many lovers, friends, and even your own adopted kids over the next millenia, all of them accepting your immortality and everlasting duties

But it’s all the same in the end: they come, they leave, and they die

With each death of your loved ones, you could feel your will to keep going dissipate

The stars grew dimmer gradually in the night sky

The humans gradually stopped worshipping you as you disappeared from the night skies

You became a distant memory for elders to tell children

Disappearing from the face of the Earth for a few centuries when you could not take the constant deaths any longer

Nobody knew where your cabin laid so you were undisturbed for centuries on end, left to your grief

That was until a knock sounded at your door

The knock startled you out of the comfort of your bed. Reluctantly, you left the warmth of the multitude of blankets and donned your cloak to hide your unkempt appearance. When you passed the mirror hanging in the hallway, you could see that your face was shrouded by darkness with the exception of a single glint where your eyes were caused by the lone star that was a constant reminder of your position. Before you fell into a deep depression, the stars would illuminate your entire face if you put your hood up.

You opened the front door without a care in the world. If the beings on the other side were humans that would take you away and torture you, you didn’t care. You’re long past the point of caring for your own well being.

On the other side was a man of average height and long shaggy blond hair pulled into a slick ponytail. He was dressed entirely in green with a green and white striped bucket hat placed on his head. Past you would’ve been cooing at the object, but now you dully looked at the man in front of you. You glanced behind him and your eyes widened at the huge black wings sprouting from his back. You know who he was the second your eye caught the black feathers; he was the Angel of Death.

“Hello, Angel of Death.”

He tried to peer into your shrouded features, only seeing two pinpricks of light where your eyes should be. He gave you a friendly smile, brushing off the snow that gathered on his shoulders. “(Y/n), the God of the Stars and the Night Sky. Giver of compassion to the human race, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Why are you here? Last time I checked, my last lover died centuries ago.”

“Yes, my condolences. They were lovely when I guided their soul to the afterlife.”

“You still have not answered my question, Angel of Death. Why are you here?” You grit out the last sentence through a clenched jaw. He has no right to talk about them when he assisted in taking them away from you. Him and your cousin, the Goddess of Death Kristin. They took everybody you loved away from you. You knew that their deaths were unavoidable since they were human and you were immortal, but you still couldn’t help but resent them.

“The Goddess of Death sent me. The God of the Moon and the Goddess of the Sun sent her a request to send me to check on you.”

You stared at him for a few moments before you saw him shivering slightly and sighed. You always had a soft spot for humans, even if the being in front of you was not a human in the slightest. He reminded you of an old friend. You stepped aside and gestured lazily inside the house, “come in.”

He started to visit more and more over the next century

He eventually befriended you about half a century into the visits

It was extremely difficult to do because of how guarded you were, but he managed to break you out of your shell

You realizing how kind he was and how much he cared for you

You quickly came to the realization that he was immortal as well after reading up on the Angel of Death

After another fifty years, he became your best friend

You both opened up and comforted each other about everybody you both lost over the years

When he adopted Technoblade and then Wilbur not long after Techno, you were extremely hesitant to get close to them

Even going as far as telling Philza that you thought that it was an extremely bad idea

Mortals always end up leaving in the end anyways, it’s best to avoid the endless cycle of hurt that came with having mortals around

You told him about your own adopted children that have died over the years

You refuse to meet them, cutting off all communication with Philza for a year or two

Eventually meeting his three adopted kids when you reluctantly accept a dinner invitation one day

You attempted to appear cold and uncaring, but your love for humans (especially baby humans) shone through when an infant Tommy started to play with your cape

It seemed that the stars and the moving nebulas within the fabric entranced him

From then on whenever you visited Philza, you always held Tommy until he was too old for you to do so

Becoming very attached to the blond with your strong innate parental instincts

You introduce Techno to mythology, sharing stories of your personal interactions with certain gods and entities throughout the years

You teach Techno how to cope with the voices as you constantly hear multiple prayers to you from humans at the same time

You arrange a meeting for Wilbur with the Goddess of Music when he asks you about her

Arranging for her to start giving him lessons in exchange of a favor that will be cashed at a later date

You help raise all three of them, often taking them off Philza’s hands for a night or two

Their favorite activity with you is watching you raise the stars and turn the sky dark

They always loved to watch you move the stars and summon shooting stars for them

The stars gradually returned to your eyes and a constant ecstatic smile slowly became synonymous with your face again

Humans started to worship you again when the stars in the sky became brighter

You became your old self again after centuries of feeling lost

To repay them for everything they’ve done for you, you decided to rearrange the stars for one night

One night of having a different star pattern couldn’t hurt

Sure, it’d make a few theories pop up among the humans, but those are fun to overhear sometimes

The young boys and Philza behind you watched in awe as your eyes started to glow brightly and you slowly moved your hands gracefully raising the stars with the moon, your cloak starting to flow with nonexistent winds. They’ve seen you raise the stars thousands of times, but it never ceases to amaze them. It was just so… entrancing.

You broke into a slight sweat and started to move the stars from their original positions in the sky. Shaking slightly, you pushed back against the strain and slight pain that it brought you. You’ve never done this before, so you really didn’t know what you were expecting. You felt someone put a hand on your shoulder.

“What’re you doin, mate?”

“Uh Dad?”

“Not now Techno. Mate, are you alright?”

“Dad, look up. They’re rearranging the stars,” Wilbur breathed out.

You could hear Philza gasp slightly as he watched star after star move until they locked into place. There in the twinkling night sky was each of their names gleaming brightly in small lettering. When you were done, you fell into a kneel onto the ground and rubbed at your aching head panting lightly.

You could hear the boys around you panic slightly as you regained your breath. As you heard them approach you you looked up at them and smiled, the stars gleaming brightly in your irises. “Do you like it?”

“Y-yes but gods, (y/n) are you alright?”

“I am fine, but stars, I have never done that before. Are you four ready for stargazing?”

“That was so pog, (y/n)! How’d you do that?”

“I hold the power of the stars and the night sky in my hands. My brother once told me that the night is our kingdom.” You laid down onto the grass and took off your cloak to cover up a shivering Tommy and Wilbur next to you. You sighed as you thought about your siblings; you wondered how they were doing.

“I will gladly move the stars themselves for you four. You are my family.” There was a stretched out moment of comfortable silence as you five watched shooting stars blaze by. Eventually, you saw an aurora borealis materialize above you. Furrowing your brow, you looked at it in question. They don’t appear this time of year, so why-

“Aelia,” you breathed out as you watched the greens flow above you. She must’ve sent a gust of solar wind your way.

“Isn’t Aelia the Goddess of the Sun?” Wilbur asked you.

“Yes, she is my oldest sister. She must have redirected the solar winds over here.”

“Damn, what’s with the gods changing everything tonight? You guys need to fuckin chill.”

“Tommy!” Philza scolded and was about to continue before he heard you start to laugh. They’ve only heard you genuinely laugh only a couple of times, so the sound that left your mouth immediately brightened the mood.

“Yes Tommy, I suppose we do need to ‘fucking chill’.”

“You swore! Fuckin pog,” Tommy cheered to himself as the others looked at you in slight shock at your words. If you’re being completely honest in all of the years you spent alive (which is since basically the beginning of time), you’ve never sworn once. You were raised differently than that. When you realized that the others were staring at you, you smirked at them. The stars twinkling and giving your eyes even more of a mischievous glint, “what? Have you never heard a god swear before?”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #god reader #requests #hellion's requests #1k special #hellion's 1k special #tw: death #tw: depression #tw: grief #tw: swearing

1K notes · View notes

multiples-fandomswontkillme · 3 years

Text

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

#metal family #glam metal family #ches metal family #victoria metal family #chess metal family #dee metal family #heavy metal family #metal family glam #metal family victoria #metal family dee #metalfamily #metal family heavy

817 notes · View notes

jortsaaaaaaart · 3 years

Text

To Be Forgotten Amongst Friends chp1

Omega! Reader x avengers

Hello all! I revamped my story "ikaros" and this is the new story! Also the name is long rip.

Trigger warnings (later chapters mostly)- ptsd, noncon, kidnapping, human experimentation, Stockholm and lima syndrome

The following chapters will be posted on- https://archiveofourown.org/works/33890977 (seriously- may not post here that often cause i hate the tagging system- go check out ao3)

It's a beautiful day in New York and you're a terrible, no good, thief.

You were considered New York’s very own Robin Hood. Two hundred ATM robberies in two years, the money flying out of the machines and into the hands of people who needed it. The banks, collectively, had lost over $300,000 from the ATMs alone. But of course, it wasn't just the ATMs. A rash of robberies had spread over the East coast. Most were digital, companies funneling their own money to offshore accounts that wanted nothing to do with U.S. intervention. The FBI were notified, then the CIA, and eventually- after a daring cyber attack against the DOD- SHIELD itself turned it's one eyed gaze onto you.

Nick Fury saw something the other agencies didn't. You had certain gifts that made your line of work incredibly easy. Whether they were natural mutations or some sort of superpower, they allowed you to break into some of the most secure networks known to man. He had almost found you when SHIELD fell and his resources vanished. After the dust cleared he was forced to start from scratch. Hunting you and the remnants of Hydra down at the same time wasn't easy, but, in a strange twist of fate, he found someone else that was searching for you too.

+++

New York was filled with so many people. Most of them were good, in your opinion. (Well, maybe half, actually.) You spent most of your off time working on "projects" or walking around the city. You had become a fixture at the local Bodega. Single omegas were extremely rare, marked single omegas were almost unheard of. The mark gave you certain freedoms other omegas, sadly, didn't have. It drove away most potential suitors and the ones who were particularly bold would be given a taste of your powers. Once the burrow had gotten used to your presence they saw you as a generous person, but a secretive one. Someone who took no shit even with their designation. You gave to the community and different Omega rights groups in the area. After years of watching you quietly go about helping people you had been welcomed into the burrow's heart with open arms.

You loved helping people in your own way. You loved it just as much as you hated corporations and the police, but when you could make an ATM spew it's contents out into the poorest streets of Brooklyn or make Fox News send a million dollars to Planned Parenthood, you could have the best of both worlds.

At least, for a time. All good things had to end, right? That's what you told yourself as the redhead picked her way through the crowd towards you.

Seeing an avenger in your neighborhood was an odd occurrence. It was a poorer part of town, untouched in the battle of New York, and too out of the way for any super villain origin stories. In fact, you seemed to be the only mutant in the entire block. You'd always thought, if someone was going to come for you, it would be a couple of FBI agents and not the fucking Black Widow. Your brain and heart went into overdrive as you tried to remember doing anything worth the avenger's time. But there was nothing. The DOD hack had been almost a year ago and all you did was release government files showing attacks on civilians overseas. It hardly seemed like an avengers worthy crime, especially when Black Widow herself had leaked government secrets before.

Any hope of her not not looking for you was dashed when her eyes locked onto yours. She tilted her head, asking a silent question.

The burst of adrenaline sent you careening through the lunchtime crowds. You couldn't feel anyone on the rooftops but there was a large form blocking your path, trying to box you in. They were stronger and faster but you knew the environment. You ducked into Charlie's, your sneakers skidding on the asphalt as you took the sharp turn. The person behind the counter lazily looked up as you walked to the back. They knew you well enough to not care, they also weren't paid enough to care. The alley would open up into a busy side street. More people meant a better chance to blend in and get away. You were almost to the end when the door opened behind you. Black Widow and fucking Captain America stepped into the alley. For a moment the three of you stood in something akin to a standoff.

You felt wildly undressed for this life-threatening situation.

"We just want to talk, (Y/N)" Captain America told you, hands raised. The unmistakable stink of an alpha radiated from the captain. You were momentarily thankful for your mark dulling its effect on you. Though, the blonde's scent was tinged with something hauntingly familiar. Something you didn't want to recognize.

Behind him, Black widow's free hand went to her ear. "Target is in the alley between 31st and 32nd," A twitch of your finger and the line went dead. Her hand dropped to the gun at her hip.

"I'm feeling pretty under equipped for this 'conversation'," You replied, slowly raising your hands as well, wondering if they could feel what you were doing. They didn't react and you slowly let your power seep from you.

Natasha was the first to react, drawing her gun and spinning around. Steve looked at her with confusion as her wide eyes scanned the alley as if she was seeing ghosts. She was afraid he realized, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. He moved towards her and you took off running. You felt him hesitate then take off after you, gaining on you with an embarrassingly low number of strides. You tried your powers again, stronger this time, but his focus was unwavering. He was almost to you now and you were running out of options. That’s when the alpha in him came out.

“Omega!” He snarled, “Stop!” Your feet slowed down immediately. It wasn’t as strong as your own alpha’s command would be, but the super soldier certainly commanded respect and obedience. You were forced to stand still, eyes burning holes in the asphalt, as the alpha’s footsteps grew closer. You really didn't want to do this but it looked like you had no choice. Your jaw clenched, and you spun around when his hand grabbed your arm. The blonde's eyes widened as you placed a palm to his chest.

He barely had time to glance down at your hand before the electricity hit him.

The 1,000 volts you sent into him were supposed to stun him or send him flying, allowing you to escape. However, his muscles spasmed just a bit stronger than you intended. In an instant his grip crushed the bones in your arm and sent the two of you careening backwards into a brick wall. Natasha would find you a moment later, passed out on top of the super soldier, a sizable hole in the wall.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a few blurry white shapes milled about in the corners of your vision. You couldn't remember how you got here, or where here was. All your senses seemed to be dulled. Your wrist was throbbing and each time you opened your eyes the room came in and out of focus. You closed your eyes, opting to ignore the funhouse effect and focus on the sounds around you. The beeping of the monitors, footsteps on concrete, and two low voices.

"She's alright, Buck, I promise." Steve's voice wavered in and out of your consciousness bringing with it the memory of how you got into this bed. "She did something to Nat and ran before I could explain. I wasn't expecting her powers to be so strong."

"I should have come with you," Another voice snarled. Your heart skipped a beat at the low growl. You knew that voice. It evoked a sickening combination of need and terror and you couldn't remember why. "She wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had. What idiot doesn't know omegas are fragile?!"

"It was an accident!" His voice raised slightly before sighing. "I know you're worried, but she's fine."

The scent you had smelled on Steve earlier swirled around the room. Metal and burning pine, it affected you just like the voice had, triggering both panic and yearning. You knew it somehow. The memory was there somewhere, tucked away where it couldn’t hurt you. Where it should have been forgotten.

The scent grew unbearably strong as he leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back he wasn't expecting his eyes to catch yours.

His expression softened as soon as he realized you were awake. "Omega," Bucky whispered reverently. Stormy blue eyes stared down at you with love and adoration, watching the color drain from your face. "Doll?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear the panicked beeping of the machines and Steve trying to calm you down. But it didn't matter. All that you could feel was the need to get far, far, away from this man. You didn't know how you knew him but you knew he was dangerous. You knew he had hurt you. That's why, as he reached out to gently cup your face, you slapped his hand away.

"Get away from me!" You gasped, voice breaking. You scooted back and tried to back up as far as possible. Your shaky legs barely held your weight as you slid off the bed. Pure terror coursed through your veins, it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. You found yourself pressed into the corner of the room while the men stared at you in shock. Steve and Bucky gaped like you had just told them the Germans had actually won WWII. Eyebrows knit together, blue eyes wide and frantic, Bucky looked like he was in emotional turmoil.

“(Y/N), doll, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s your alpha.” Bucky reached out to you carefully as a low purr rumbled from his chest.

You felt the purr relax you and dull your senses even more. It was nauseating. “I don’t have an alpha! And I don’t know who the hell you are!” You tried to shout and grit your teeth but the words came out in broken sobs, betraying your weakness. Who was this? Why was he the most terrifying thing you had ever seen?

Your teeth were bared at this point but the man kept coming towards you. The tunnel vision and rapid shallow breaths were the only warnings your body gave you as it reverted to its animalistic omega framework. Bucky watched as, in slow motion, your eyes went blank as your body gave out.

+++

Your alpha held your body to his chest in disbelief. He had expected some shock at seeing him but this went far beyond his expectations. It had been over three years since he'd last seen you. Since he'd last been able to drink in your scent. He'd figured you might not recognize him at first. He had changed a lot over the years. No longer under Hydra's control his physical appearance, demeanor, and scent had changed. But your body should've known your alpha.

"What was that?" Steve asked. "Why did she react like that when she has your mark?" The two alphas were on edge. Seeing a vulnerable omega drop triggered their protective instincts. Steve desperately wanted to take you and hold you close, ease you out of the drop. If the alpha holding you was anyone other than his closest friend and packmate he would have ripped you out of his grasp immediately. For now he'd have to hold himself back.

"She didn't remember me." Bucky nuzzled his head into your neck, nursing your mark softly. After a moment he pulled back and gazed at your unchanged features. He couldn't wake you from this drop that easily. He pressed in harder this time, teeth lining up with the scar perfectly, but there was still no change. No purr, command, or bite was waking you up.

"We should let her rest, Buck. The pain meds will wear off soon and we'll try again. . . Bring her to the den. She'll need to get used to everyone's scents sooner or later." Steve laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. It was a gentle but firm suggestion. He knew tensions were high, the den, with it's heavy curtains and plush blankets, would calm down his friend and the omega. With little argument the brunette lifted you up and carried you to the den. It was aptly named and extremely well constructed thanks to Stark. Curtains blocked off all light from the windows, mattresses were inlaid into the ground, and the temperature was always cool. It was one good thing about being in a pack with that narcissist, Bucky thought dryly.

Steve led them into a cozy corner of the room. The captain hummed happily as they moved the pillows and blankets, creating a makeshift nest for the three of them. The feeling of the omega pressing into his chest was addictive. He couldn't wait for you to remember your alpha.

The sooner you remembered your bond with Bucky the sooner the rest of the pack, Steve included, could court you.

265 notes · View notes

dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Captive

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’re glad you managed to talk Dream out of giving all that TNT to Wilbur, but what you don’t know is just how far Wilbur is willing to go to get his hands on it.

Warnings: tw// depictions of kidnapping, some cursing (Tommy exists), + one scene with slight violence

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: requested by an anon who wanted to see dream’s reaction to a kidnapping of his s/o! i played around a little with the original idea, but i hope you enjoy!

The door to your bedroom opened with a soft creak, the wooden door squeaking at its hinges as you pushed it open. You strolled inside with a tune on your lips as you sat on your side of the bed, a soft breath escaping you.

It had been a long day, to say the least.

To think of all the days Wilbur could have confronted Dream, it was going to be today.

You sighed at the thought, pressing a finger to your temple. It was difficult to pinpoint just when Wilbur had begun his slow descent into madness, but it was growing more prominent with each passing day. He no longer resembled the kind, sarcastic man you once recognized, instead having devolved into something far more sinister and cunning. You didn’t realize just how low he’d sunk until he had called Dream to him, and by proxy you, with a particular demand.

He wanted as much TNT as Dream could possibly provide in return for the fall of Manberg.

You could hardly believe your ears, let alone your eyes as you watched Wilbur describe exactly how his plot would unfold. The crazed look in his eye was terrifying, and you could tell with just one look that he was too far gone to be saved.

Before Dream even had the chance to say anything, you had grabbed his hand, tugging him a few feet away from Wilbur with the simple request of a few moments to talk things over.

“You can’t give it to him,” you remembered saying, your eyes dark with resolve. “You just can’t.”

His cold, ceramic mask had stared back at you. “Why not? Manberg is doomed to fall, anyways—why shouldn’t we help him?”

You had pursed your lips, your gaze growing serious. “Dream, we shouldn’t be condoning this. Who knows how many lives would be lost if we went through with it?” You had wrapped your hands around his, a silent plea flashing in your eyes as your voice grew soft. “Please, Dream. This is wrong. Please, I’m begging you.”

A moment had passed in silence, your shoulders tense with worry before his hand wrapped around yours, squeezing gently. “Okay,” he had murmured, and you could almost imagine the look in his emerald eyes. “I won’t do it.”

To say Wilbur was livid would be an understatement.

You shivered at the thought. Rarely did Wilbur lose his composure, but today was the most terrifying sight of them all. You’d never seen him shout like that. Dream had to practically cart the both of you back to the SMP, Wilbur’s incessant curses lingering in the air for miles to come.

With a sigh, you curled your toes, shaking your head. Even though no trade was made, you still couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

A quiet meow came from in front of you, and you raised your head to see Patches standing a few feet away. A smile spread across your face and you clicked your tongue, bending over to tap your fingers along the ground at your feet. “C’mere, pretty,” you crooked, “c’mere!”

“Are you talking about me?”

You looked up at the doorway to your bedroom, your lips twitching at the sight of Clay leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and his mask in hand. Below you, Patches padded across the wooden floorboards to your feet, rubbing up against your leg. “Mm,” you mused, tapping at your chin, “I wouldn’t call you pretty, per se.”

He gasped, holding his hand over his chest as though he’d been shot. “Really?”

You cocked your head at him as Patches leapt up onto the bed next to you, her tail brushing again your arm. “Why, yes.” A teasing grin danced on your lips. “As a matter of fact, I’d say you’re much more handsome than you are pretty.”

He raised a brow at you, a cocky look crossing his face. “Oh, handsome, you say?”

You smirked back at him. “Very.”

Patches crawled over into your lap, her paws pressing gently against your calves as she settled in. You smiled down at her, but the tension in your shoulders didn’t drop. Sucking in a breath, you opened your mouth.

“Clay?”

He turned, his emerald gaze shooting to you. “Yeah?”

You swallowed, casting your gaze down toward the ground. “I know we already talked about this, but I just wanted to be extra sure.”

He stared at you for a moment, setting his mask on the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Is this about Wilbur?”

Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes nodding slowly. “Yes,” you said in a small voice.

His lips quirked, and he slipped into the spot on the bed next to you. “I know you’re still worried. I don’t exactly have a...” He paused. “...great track record with TNT.” You let out a breathy laugh. “But I won’t hand any of it over.” He reached over, his hand slipping yours into his. “Not even a single stick of dynamite. I swear it.”

You peered up at him through your lashes, your eyes searching his. “Do you promise?” you whispered.

He leaned toward you pressing his forehead to yours as he rubbed his thumb in small circles on the back of your hand. “Promise.”

Your lips curled up at his words, and you raised his other hand to his cheek, leaning in. He met you halfway as your lips pressed against one another in a soft kiss. You could feel him smile into your mouth, and you stifled a giggle as he pulled away with a lopsided grin on his face.

On your lap, Patches let out a soft meow. Her big green eyes blinked lazily up at you before she dipped her head, nuzzling her face into your pyjama pants. Meowing back at her, Clay reached over and stroked his hand gently over the top of her head, his smile widening at the sound of her soft purr. You opened your mouth to say something when you were cut off by a yawn pushing past your lips.

Clay cast a soft look at you, and he tilted his head at you. “Hey, let’s go to bed, yeah? You’re tired.”

You feigned annoyance, sticking your tongue out at him. “Yeah, because you’re so boring.”

He looked appalled. “What?”

Your lips twitched into a grin. “Kidding.” You squeezed his hand in yours lovingly. “I love spending time with you, even if we’re not really doing anything.”

Getting to his feet, he walked to the other side of the room, flicking off the lights and enveloping the room in darkness. “Well,” he said, striding over to his side of the bed and pulling back the covers as he slipped in, “you and I will get to do a whole lot of nothing together if you get in bed, okay? So, hurry up.”

You rolled your eyes but relented, your eyes glimmering with mirth. “Alright, alright.”

Ever so gently, you picked Patches up from off your lap and set her on the ground, your heart sighing at the sound of her soft mewl. The moment her paws touched the ground, she trotted out of the room, the door swinging closed behind her. You shook your head at her before sliding under the sheets. Almost automatically, Clay opened his arms up and you snuggled up to his chest, a comforting warmth enveloping you as his arm draped over your waist.

“Goodnight, Clay,” you whispered into the dark, just for him to hear.

You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Goodnight, [Y/N].”

You were stirred out of sleep by an itching in your throat.

Blinking open your bleary eyes, you coughed into the crook of your arm once, slowly growing conscious with each passing second. The room was still dark, the moon peeking down at you through the windowpanes, and pressed against your back was something warm and solid. You smiled, snuggling back against Clay’s chest, his arm unconsciously tightening around you as your eyelids fluttered shut.

Just as you felt yourself about to doze off again, another cough flew from your lips.

Quickly covering your mouth, careful not to wake Clay, you suddenly realized just how dry your mouth was. Frowning, you opened your eyes once more, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you slowly wrapped your hand around Clay’s wrist. With a touch as light as a feather, you slipped his arm off from around your waist and you wiggled out of his warm embrace, bringing yourself up into a sitting position. You were seconds away from pulling off the covers when he shifted, his face nuzzling into the spot where your head once lay.

“Mm... [Y/N]...” he murmured, sleep slurring his words together as his hand twitched at his side. “Wh... where’re ya going...?”

You smiled, caressing the side of his face with the back of your hand. “Just gonna get a glass of water,” you whispered back, moving some hair away from his face.

Leaning over, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Sweet dreams,” you said into his ear as you pulled away, watching with a fond smile as he relaxed at your touch, the stress vanishing from his features in an instant.

Seeing Clay sleep was more comforting than you’d like to admit. It was one of the only times where he ever got to just be Clay and not Dream—just a simple guy who needed his rest just like anybody else.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you sliding out from under the covers and tread across the floor, your socks silencing your every step. You swung open the door as quietly as you could, slipping out into the hall and making your way toward the kitchen. Turning on the lights would surely hurt your eyes too much, so you fumbled around the wall for a moment before pulling open a cabinet and successfully grabbing a glass for yourself. Finding the sink was much easier, and you shortly found yourself closing the tap and taking a long swig of water from your cup.

As you sipped, the wind howled outside, sending a chill running down your spine. You shivered, snuggling further into your sweater. You were glad you wore something thicker to bed, today—it was cool out.

Once you finished, you set your glass back in the sink and began walking back to your and Clay’s bedroom. You had maybe made it halfway down the hall when you heard something a quiet clank behind you. You froze, turning to look over your shoulder.

“Patches?” you called out into the dark hallway, another chill overtaking your shoulders. “Is that you?”

Before you knew what was happening, an arm had wrapped around your waist, tugging you back and pressing you firmly against someone’s chest.

Panic shot through your skull like a bullet, and you opened your mouth to let out a scream.

All of a sudden, a fist slammed against your temple, and you felt your vision immediately darken, your shout vanishing as though it had been ripped away from you.

Clay, was the last thing you thought before the darkness consumed you.

Clay awoke to the feeling of something soft tickling his nose.

“What...?” he muttered aloud to himself, batting a hand over his face. For a moment, the softness disappeared, but it returned a second later. Slowly blinking awake, he saw a paw brush over his forehead, and he nearly rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, Patches,” he said with a slight frown, watching as the cat leapt over his head. The bed dipped at his side where she landed, and he sighed. “[Y/N],” he murmured while brushing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, “did you want to feed her?”

A moment passed, and he was met with silence.

“[Y/N]?”

More silence.

Furrowing his brow, he rolled over, his arm reaching for your warmth.

His blood ran cold when his hand met nothing but the cold sheets.

He bolted upright, his hands desperately grasping at the sheets as his eyes darted this way and that across the room. Everything in the room seemed just as it was the day before, but with one main difference.

You weren’t there.

Clenching his jaw, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall every memory he had of the last night. He remembered the warmth of your lips on his cheek as you slipped out of bed, murmuring something about getting of glass of water. He didn’t remember you coming back to bed after.

He cast a glance at Patches, who sat at his side and looked back at him with her big green eyes. She meowed at him, and it all suddenly clicked.

The next few moments came in a blur. He kicked the sheets off of him, not bothering to fix them as he slid off the bed and scrambled towards the door, swinging it open with a slam. Next thing he knew, he was running through every room of the house, ducking his head into the kitchen and pantry, the bathroom and closet. No door remained unopened, and no stone remained unturned.

It was only after he had gone through just about every single room that he let the terror begin to set in.

Nowhere—you were absolutely nowhere to be found.

He swallowed, his hands tightening into fists at his side as he paced through the corridor. You wouldn’t have left him, especially not like this. If you were going to leave, you would have told him before you did so. Hell, you would have at least left a note.

It was at that moment that he passed the front entrance, and his eyes flashed, landing on a folded piece of paper taped to the wooden door.

A note.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Clay rushed over, practically tearing the page off the door before frantically unfolding it. His eyes darted rapidly across every line, reading in a frenzy.

Salutations, Dream!

It has come to my attention that you are growing funnier than ever, rudely declining my humble request. Well, I have just the perfect remedy for that! You might have noticed that you happen to be missing a rather precious possession of yours, and I’m sure you’ve been in quite the panic. In brief, yes, I have [Y/N]; they’re my captive. I’ll be keeping them until I have you providing me with what I asked. I’ll take as much TNT as you can provide, but at least a stack would be just wonderful. You know what they say—the more the merrier!

I may have never seen your face before, but I can just imagine how angry you must be. Boohoo, are you gonna cry? How cute. Don’t you know, Dream? All’s fair in love and war.

My fondest regards,

Wilbur Soot

Clay reread the note once, twice, thrice until he had nearly memorized every single word inked onto the page. Staring down at the paper in his hands, a slow, sinking sense of horror dug its claws into his shoulders.

Wilbur had you. He had taken you, and you were his hostage.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing thickly. “Fuck,” he muttered, low and dark.

There was no question about it—he was going to get you back. But how?

He wasn’t about to hand over the TNT Wilbur so desperately wanted that easily. You two had even talked about it and why that would be a terrible idea—he promised you he wouldn’t. He knew that you would be absolutely heartbroken if he broke your promise, even if it meant saving you.

He gritted his teeth, a low growl escaping his throat. No one else besides you knew that he had even attempted to conspire with Wilbur. There was no one he could turn to for help.

It looked like he was going to have to do this himself.

Clay turned, a dark look forming in his eyes as he crumpled the note in his hands, the paper’s edges digging into his skin.

Even if he had to do it alone, there was one thing he was sure of.

He was going to bring you back home, safe and sound.

“You know, this is probably the most pathetic you’ve ever looked.”

You grimaced, the frown on your face deepening as you tugged against the ropes binding you to your chair.

“Thanks, Wilbur.”

To think you’d be kidnapped in the dead of night by Wilbur Soot of all people. And just to make matters even worse, you were tied to a chair in front of him wearing your pyjamas.

This might just be the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to you.

He flashed you a manic grin, spinning around with his arms outstretched. “Oh,” he sighed, pressing a hand to his cheek thoughtfully, “what do you reckon Dream’s feeling right about now?”

From his spot against the wall, Tommy muttered quietly, “He’s probably pretty fuckin’ pissed.”

Wilbur stopped his spinning, his expression falling flat as he tucked a hand under his chin. He nodded once, then twice. “Good. That’s good. We want him to be mad. We want him to be panicking.” He turned, casting a glance at you. “Do you think he’s panicking? Does Dream panic?” His deranged grin returned. “I would love to see him panic.”

You kept your mouth shut, an uneasy feeling churning in your gut. This was nothing like the Wilbur you remembered.

A cough came from your left, and your gaze darted to follow it. Tommy still leaned against the wall, his eyes lying on yours. He almost looked guilty standing there, his hands clenched into fists at his side. The moment your eyes locked onto his, he turned away. Your heart sank. Is Tommy in on this, too? A part of you didn’t want to believe it, but the other couldn’t imagine any other reason why he would be here.

“Say, [Y/N],” Wilbur said, his voice drawing your attention back to him, “how many blocks of TNT do you think Dream would be willing to give up for you?” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Just how much do you think you’re worth?”

You froze, staring down at your feet. That was a good question, one you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know the answer to.

On one hand, Clay loved you—you knew that. He had told you so more times than you could count. But at the end of the day, Clay wasn’t just Clay, the man you loved. He was also Dream, the genius mastermind. Was he really going to spend the resources to save you at the cost of so much? Would you be left to the mercy of a madman? The thought terrified you.

On the other, you were equally as terrified of just how far Clay might go. He was stubborn like that. If he came with the TNT in hand to trade for your safety, you knew you would be putting dozens of people’s lives on the line just for yours. That wasn’t a fair trade, either.

You felt sick to your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “Wilbur,” you said, trying to ignore the burn of the rope around your wrists, “this isn’t like you.”

He suddenly went still, and a stone of anxiety dropped into the pit of your stomach.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

He whirled, a stony look crossing his features. “It isn’t?” he repeated slowly, taking a step toward you. “Oh, it isn’t?”

You gulped, a tinge of fear running down your spine as he stopped in front of you, bending over to be eye-level with you. His dark gaze bore into yours, almost as if his eyes were piercing right through you. His low voice wrapped around you, constricting you tighter than the rope binding you to the chair.

“The old Wilbur is long dead and gone now, [Y/N],” he whispered, deadly quiet, “and he isn’t ever coming back.”

You could only stare and try to calm the hammering of your heart in your chest.

Insane—he had gone absolutely insane.

Leaning back again, Wilbur gave you another once over before waving dismissively, turning his back on you. “Tommy,” he said, “put [Y/N] in the cell and make sure it’s locked until Dream shows up with his gifts.”

He began stepping away when he suddenly stopped, throwing one more glance over his shoulder. “Oh, and don’t even try to escape.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You and I know very well that you wouldn’t make it even five feet.”

With that, he strolled up the stairs, disappearing out of view. Your shoulders sagged with relief the moment he vanished from sight. You didn’t think you could stand locking eyes with him for another second.

It was then that you suddenly felt yourself losing contact with the ground, the chair being lifted along with you. You gasped, turning your head to see Tommy picking you up, his eyes averted from yours. You opened your mouth, then closed it when you saw just how much remorse was swimming in his gaze.

You watched silently as he carried you over to the empty cell carved into part of the ravine wall. Flinging open the iron bars with one hand, he pushed your chair inside with the other. Setting you down flat on the earth, Tommy slowly began untying the knots binding your wrists to the back of the chair. A few moments later, you felt the ropes unravel, the uncomfortably warm tightness of the rope finally giving way to the cool air. You rubbed at your wrists, wincing slightly at the aching of your skin.

Before you could even properly register what was happening, the sound of iron slamming against iron filled the air, and you whipped your head up to see Tommy shoving a key in the cell padlock. A loud click echoed off the stone walls as he turned the key, grimacing.

Your body moved without thinking. Scrambling forward on buckling legs, you bolted forward, your hands gripping onto the freezing iron bars to regain your balance. “Tommy,” you said, your wide eyes scanning his face for any sign of warmth. “Tommy, please—this isn’t right and you know it.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away, a guilty look flashing across his face. “I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he said quietly as he turned away, sorrow seeping into each syllable.

The words felt like a slap to your face, and you were stunned into silence as he walked off without another word. Not even Tommy—wild, reckless but good-intentioned Tommy—was on your side.

You were truly and utterly alone.

Turning, you took in the furniture in your cell. There was a single, small cot in the corner of the room, and a door located on the same wall as the headboard. You could only assume it led to a bathroom, Otherwise, the rest of the room was entirely barren with nothing to be seen.

So, this was what it was like to be a prisoner.

Something stung at the back of your eyes, your heart squeezing so tightly in your chest that it felt like it was going to burst. Letting go of the iron bars, you made your way across the room, climbing onto the cot and leaning your back against the wall. You curled up on the thin sheets, tucking your knees to your chest.

This wasn’t like the warmth of the bed you shared with Clay. It was cold, and barren, and so, so lonely.

You missed him, and it hurt.

You could only hope that the pain would fade with time.

Clay slammed his head into his desk, a deep sigh of pure frustration escaping his lips as his breakfast sat untouched beside him.

It had been two days since you’d been taken, and he had never felt so terrible.

He never realized just how much of his daily life revolved around you. He woke up with you, he ate with you, he slept next to you, he laughed with you, he loved you. It wasn’t until you had been ripped away from him that he truly understood how much you had woven yourself into his life.

He missed you more than he thought was humanely possible.

Staring down at his bowl, he shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth and began to chew. He couldn’t even begin to imagine just how awful Wilbur and Tommy were being to you, right now. Did they give you a bed to sleep on? Were they feeding you? How were you sleeping?

His mind absolutely swarmed with thoughts of you, consuming every empty space in his head, and he groaned. He couldn’t spend all his time contemplating ‘what if’s. He had to focus on the rescue plan. There was no way in hell that he was going to hand over that TNT—he promised you—but there was also absolutely no chance that he was going to abandon you.

He swallowed the mouthful, setting his spoon down as he clenched his jaw. The plan was complex, but do-able. Unfortunately, it was also risky—more risky than he’d like. Any sentence that included “[Y/N]” and “risky” was not a sentence he liked, to say the least.

He spared another glance at his cereal. It tasted like ash. Shaking his head, he stood up with a deadpan expression, walking over to the sink and reaching for the tap. Despite his calm demeanour, all he felt was rage—pure, unfiltered rage.

Just then, there came a knock at the front door.

Clay’s hand froze, halfway toward the tap. Grimacing, he turned on his heel to grab his mask from off the tabletop. With practiced ease, he attached the clasp to the back of his head, the cool plastic of his mask securely pressed against to his face.

Striding over to the lobby, he wrapped his hand around the handle, sucking in a breath and exhaling. Then, he pulled the door open, opening his mouth in greeting, but the words died in his mouth.

He stared at the figure standing in front of him, his eyes wide in disbelief.

This wasn’t who he was expecting at all.

“I want to help.”

You chewed on your lip, the cogs inside your head spinning at what felt like a million miles a minute as you stared long and hard at the stone wall.

How long has it been since you last saw daylight? You weren’t sure at this point.

You could hardly tell if it was day or night anymore. You could sometimes guess whenever you got a glimpse of Tommy’s bedhead when he brought food to you, but then you learned that the kid liked to take naps, so that went out the window.

You frowned, slumping over on your knees. This sucks. I’m completely and utterly useless. A wave of sadness washed over you. I want to go home.

A low whistle echoed through the ravine, a shiver running down your spine. If you could escape, you probably would have at this point. The problem was, you neither had the key to your cell, nor did you know where in the world you were even being held. You knew that it was somewhere underground of course, but that was hardly any basis to work with if you wanted to find your way back home.

Simply put, you were stuck, and all you could do was sit and wait.

You closed your eyes, picking up the thin blanket they had given you and wrapping it around yourself. You’d hardly gotten any sleep lately. Maybe you should at least try.

Some time passed in silence, your breathing gradually slowing down as your joints grew more relaxed. You were just on the brink of sleep when you were startled awake by the sound of a key turning.

Jolting, you lifted you head to see a figure swinging open your cell door and slipping inside. You jaw dropped.

“Tommy?” you said.

Immediately, he pressed a finger to his lips as his other hand shot out to grab your wrist, his gaze panicked. “Shh!” he hissed, his grip tightening. “Be fucking quiet, will you?”

You snapped your mouth shut, your eyes the size of saucers. Just what the hell is happening, right now?

With a tug, he pulled you to your feet, your mind still wracked with questions. You shot him a quizzical look, but he simply shook his head at you, dragging you forward and out of the cell. Your eyes swept across the ravine as he took a sharp turn, pressing you flat against the wall beside him.

There was a beat of silence. You held your breath.

Then your legs were flying out beneath you as he suddenly pulled you up the stairs you had seen Wilbur tread so many times before.

Right. Wilbur. Wasn’t Tommy on Wilbur’s side? You didn’t know anymore.

At the top of the stairs, rather than having reached the surface, you found yourself standing in a small dirt hut, with two beds pressed against the wall and a few chests lined up on the ground. You felt your confusion only grow as Tommy opened up a small hatch at the top before gesturing for you to climb up. You didn’t even bother asking before grabbing onto the sides of the trapdoor and housing yourself upward, gasping at the feeling of fresh air filling your lungs.

Above you, tall oak trees stood over you, the night sky shrouding the earth in darkness. You were in a forest, but most importantly, you were out.

You tumbled to the ground, your hands pressing into the dewy grass beneath you. You could hardly care that you weren’t even wearing shoes. A giddy smile crossed your face and you threw your hands into the air as you opened your mouth in a shout. “I’m ou—!”

A hand slapped over your mouth, cutting off your scream of delight. Tommy panicked face came into view in front of you, shaking his head wildly. “Don’t,” he mouthed, the word coming out silently, “say a word.”

You nodded, your eyes wide as you tapped at the back of his hand. He paused for a moment before removing it from your face, his shoulders sagging. He turned, quickly taking in his surroundings before gesturing for you to follow him.

You couldn’t help but make a face. Tommy was never careful. This had to be serious.

With each couple of steps he took, he would press himself up against a tree, waiting for a moment before continuing, making sure not to make a single sound. Following after you, you did the same, confusion continuing to make your head spin more and more with each passing minute.

After a little while, a clearing suddenly came into view, and Tommy abruptly stopped, holding his arm out to signal for you to do the same. Freezing, you oh-so slowly trailed after him as he ducked behind another tree trunk, peeking out just beyond the dark wood. You squinted your eyes into the dim clearing, trying to pinpoint just what exactly he was being so cautious of.

Your heart dropped.

There, in front of you, stood Wilbur, his back facing you. On the opposite side of the clearing was a masked Dream, a chest lying next to his feet.

He’s doing it, isn’t he? you thought. He’s giving up the TNT. Something inside you cracked. He’s breaking your promise.

You watched as Wilbur took a step forward, and you could hear his crooked smile as he spoke. “How kind of you to join me tonight, Dream.”

Dream didn’t respond, his mask as emotionless as always while his hand remained completely still atop the chest at his side.

Wilbur twisted to the side, waggling his fingers in neurotic excitement as he pointed at the chest. “Oh, is that a present for me? Did you really come all this way just to give me—little ol’ me—a gift?”

Dream patted the chest next to him, taking a few steps back as he spoke coolly. “It sure is.” He leaned forward in a subtle bow, gesturing toward the wooden case. “Why don’t you open it? I’m sure you’ll like what you’ll find.”

Wilbur let out a quiet sequel, skipping over to the chest with a bounce in a step. “Don’t mind if I do.”

You could see a bead of sweat roll down Tommy’s cheek beside you out of the corner of your eye, his cerulean eyes narrowed in what you could describe as pure stress. Wilbur crept up to the box, his gloved fingers slowly unbuckling the front clasp before ripping the top open with glee, only to come face to face with an all too familiar and grave sight.

It was empty.

Wilbur’s blood boiled as a whirlwind of images from the past shot across the back of his eyelids. He whipped his head around, his lips curling into a scowl only to fall away at the sight of Dream holding a stick of dynamite, the tail sparking with an ember.

His eyes widened, and you watched as Dream dropped the stick to the earth.

“You fu—”

The explosion was massive, immediately wracking the air with a deafening boom as ash flew into the air. Wilbur’s arms flung in front of his face, coughing as he covered it from the rising debris. Another explosion followed the first, then another. In an instant, the entire area was fogged over with thick, black smoke, completely obscuring his vision.

You swallowed, your mouth going dry as your gaze hopelessly searched for Dream in the dark.

Just then, a hand tapped on your shoulder.

You whirled with a start, coming face to face with a familiar white mask.

“Dream?” you whispered, your mind still reeling from the shock of everything that had just happened.

Without missing a beat, Tommy shoved you forward, pointing deeper into the woods. “Go, go, go!” he hissed into your ear. “This is your one fucking chance, just get the fuck out!”

You didn’t hesitate to heed his words, stumbling forward as you ran for your life. Adrenaline pumped itself into your veins like a lifeline, overriding your confusion and exhaustion. Behind you, you could hear Dream on your heels as Wilbur let out a roar.

“You bastard, Dream! Where the hell are you?”

You didn’t look back, sprinting with every ounce of energy that you had as the two of you broke out of the forest. Rushing down the hill that stretched before you, you could see Manberg glowing in the dark like a beacon of light just a few hundred feet away. If you made it into view of the Manberg, you would be safe—Wilbur couldn’t set foot there. Between you and safety lay a single river, and you knew exactly what you had to do.

Gritting your teeth, you leapt forward, the cold water splashing around you as you fell in. Another splash followed right after you, and if you weren’t underwater, you would have let out a sigh of relief. You kicked desperately, pushing yourself through the dark waves as you swam to the other side.

It only took a few moments for you to surface again, your hands making contact with the sand. Gasping for breath, you threw yourself onto the beach, your hair sticking to your face. A split second later, Dream was lying next to you, wheezing with laughter.

“That,” he gasped, “was amazing.”

You laughed. Of course that was the first thing he would say after pulling a stunt like that.

You pulled yourself onto your knees, the sand sinking around you and your soaking weight. Something warm brushed over your face, and you tilted your head back. Just in the distance, the sun was beginning to rise. In the sky. You didn’t think you would miss seeing the sky this much.

Framed by the light of dawn spilling over the horizon, Dream got onto one knee before you, tearing his mask off his face with one hand. His emerald eyes—oh, those lovely, emerald eyes—darted across your face, full of worry.

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching a wet hand towards your cheek, “why are you crying?”

You blinked in surprise and lifted a hand to your own cheek, only to pull it away to find that it was wet, and not from the river. Oh. You hadn’t realized you were crying. You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off by a choked sob flowing out of your throat. “I-I don’t know,” you admitted honestly. “All I know is that I’m really, really happy right now. Like, beyond happy.”

His touch was soft against your cheek. “I can tell,” he whispered. “It must have been scary.”

You nodded, your watery gaze blurring your vision. “It was—” Your voice cracked. “Wilbur was, and I missed you so much.”

He held your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “You’re okay, I’m okay,” he murmured, his touch as light as a feather. “I’m here with you, now. Nothing can hurt you.”

You hiccupped, leaning your face into his calloused palm as aching relief washed over you. “I—” You swallowed. “How did you even find me? I thought Tommy was on Wilbur’s side.”

Clay smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “He is,” he said softly, “but he also knows when to do the right thing.”

You smiled through your tears, your cheeks practically glowing with joy. You knew he was a good kid, even as demonic as he could be. You couldn’t believe you ever doubted him.

You sat there for a few moments more on the riverbank, taking shaky breaths as Clay murmured sweet nothings in your ear, brushing away every stray tear that ran down your face. As your breathing finally returned to normal, you felt the adrenaline finally fade, a certain fatigue taking its place. You slumped forward, his arms reaching out to catch you midway.

“Clay,” you said softly, your eyelids growing heavy, “I’m tired.”

He smiled down at you, pulling back. “Yeah? Okay.” Slowly, he positioned you upright and turned around, crouching down in front of you. “Here, get on my back.”

Carefully wrapping your arms around his neck, he grabbed onto each of your legs tightly before getting to his feet, hoisting you up onto his back securely. “Better?” he prompted.

You nodded sleepily into his neck, relishing in the warmth of his skin against yours, even if he was also sopping wet. “Mhm.”

A fond smile stretched over his face. “Perfect.” He faced forward, his eyes glimmering in the light of the new dawn.

“Then let’s go home.”

1K notes · View notes

poguestvff · 3 years

Text

Used To The Cold — S. Cameron

In which Sarah Cameron comes to a realization after her girlfriend moves across the country.

taglist | main masterlist | 2.0k words

warning(s): none, fluff, i heart sarah <33

Have you ever lost something that held either so many memories or brought a sort of happiness that just warmed you immediately even at the sight of it? Most people have something like that. Such as for children when it comes to losing stuffed animals or action figures that were a source of comfort, they missed it like hell. Said children grow up and look for a new source of comfort. Some teenagers found it in weed and alchohol, others in sports. For Sarah Cameron, she grew out of the beautiful pink blanket her father had gotten her as a toddler. As she grew into a teenager, she found a new solace.

Her girlfriend.

Sarah made it very apparent to show her love to her girlfriend who, at one point, was just her best friend who she could hardly even bare to be away from. Sarah had known she'd loved Y/n before they even got together by the way Sarah had never felt claustrophobic in the friendship that she held with the other girl. She said the three words within the first six months of being with her, words she had never spoken to another being other than her family. It was a word she, personally, took seriously. For her to say it to Y/n showed the amount of trust she held within her. Trust to not feel so closed off with Y/n.

At the beginning of the relationship, Sarah was glad that not much had changed between the two of them. That Y/n let her have her space whenever she needed it without the dependent need to be together all day though it quickly became backwards. Sarah grew even more clingy to Y/n, hardly able to deal without her hands being stuck to her girlfriend like glue. Whenever they went out to lunch, Sarah played a one sided game of footsies that only brought a smile upon Y/n’s features, one of Sarah’s favorite traits about her. Sarah loved the idea of always having a person to call her own, Y/n seeming to be the one person who could bring out her newfound touchiness. Though, sometimes she pondered on whether Y/n herself was even handling it or if she just ‘put up’ with it. If she did have an indifference towards Sarah’s actions, she surely never showed her disinterest in it.

Though the last time Sarah had held on to her girlfriend felt soul crushing and gut wrenching. As the two of them stood on the creaky, wooden dock just before the ferry, Sarah felt drained. Between the amount of crying she’d done in just the past few days had been enough to make her want to sleep forever and the comfort of her girlfriends arms around her hadn’t helped that feeling. Tears held a steady stream down both of their faces though Sarah was the one who was unable to contain her sobs. People passed around them, solemn looks given to the two of them as they listened in on the sniffles and soft wails.

Y/n didn’t need to be a genius to understand that this was twice as hard for Sarah as it would be for her. Y/n was leaving, miles away that Sarah couldn’t even pin on when the next time she’d being able to hold on to her would be. All she knew was that this embrace that Y/n held on her would be the last one for months and there wasn’t a thing that would be able to make up for it between now and then.

It evoked an indescribable sort of fear within Sarah but she knew it was immutable. If Sarah could, she'd even drop her whole life within Outer Banks to follow her girlfriend across the world. There wasn't much Sarah wouldn't do and there wasn't much Y/n wouldn't do for Sarah either, including the moving date having already been pushed back a month because of Y/n's several arguments with her parents.

"I don't want you to go." sarah whispered as y/n kissed her neck. She could hear the blonde's pained and wavering voice, how affected she already was even as Y/n hadn't even stood on the boat yet.

"I know, lover." the y/h/c girl spoke in a low tone, only sarah able to hear her words of affirmation. Y/n was first to pull back, placing her hands on Sarah's cheeks. The sight of Sarah with puffy eyes and a quivering lip made y/n's heart throb and a guilty feeling blanket over her like a raising tide. "i'll visit. Every chance I get, you know I will."

"It won't be the same." she lamented. Y/n placed her lips against Sarah’s, delicately as if the blonde were made of porcelain. When Y/n's parents had called for her and Ward and Rose had called Sarah away from the dock, Sarah only seemed to want to cling further, fingers pressing further into the thin jacket Y/n worse, but their time had finally run out. Even after weeks of pretending that they had all the time in the world, like nothing could pull the two of them apart, it had happened.

The first few weeks, the whole Cameron house had known Sarah spent most of her nights crying herself to sleep and the entire Y/l/n house knew Y/n was not going to be speaking to them for a little while due to their newest decision. Both groups of parents hadn't known that pulling the duo away from one another would become such a quagmire for each of them.

When Y/n did finally decide to talk to her parents, it was usually to say she was leaving to explore the area in which she refused to get to know the first few days. With a driver license, it gave her just a bit of freedom from her parents who's impromptu decisions had still caused for a tearing in their familial relationship.

Y/n sat in her parked car, a hot beverage in hand to adjust to the cold in which she'd just stood in for five minutes. All of it for a drink that wasn't even that good in her opinion but she dealt with it. With the hand not holding the steaming drink, she opened her phone, smiling immediately at the photo of her and sarah as her background. She unlocked it, scrolling around to find Sarah's contact and setting her phone up against the dashboard. While it began to ring, Y/n situated herself to begin to drive. "Hi, Y/n/n!" Sarah shouted excitedly the second she'd answered.

At her tone of voice did Y/n laugh. The enthusiasm was no surprise but it was funny to Y/n every time. "Hi, baby." She replied, fhe smile remaining on her face as she looked towards the screen. Sarah sat at her desk, her hands under her jaw though a pencil between her fingers. She had focused all of her attention from the papers in front of her to the driver on the other end of the phone. "What are you doing?"

The sound of whizzing paper had made Y/n glance to the phone seeing a math sheet now replacing Sarah's face before she placed it back down, a frown appearing on her features. "Math."

"Didn't you just start like two days ago?" Y/n asked, taking a sip from her drink.

"Yes and this teacher is an absolute bitch. You're just lucky you don't start for another week. You would hate Mr. Henley."

Y/n let out an awfully dramatic gasp. "Um, hello, Mr. Henley was literally my home room teacher last year, I'll have you know. Show some respect." She said, almost missing Sarah's chagrined look as she smiled.

"You're supposed to be on my side here."

"Sorry, i don't believe in biases, Sar." She joked for sarah to let out a small snicker.

"So tell me, how's minnesota?" Sarah asked, trying to spark up a conversation even if the distance was the same thing she wanted to keep her mind off of.

"Oh, it's so great. So many hot people." she remarked.

"You're not funny, no one has ever found you funny." Sarah replied though unable to hold in her laugh along with her girlfriend. "I'm serious. we haven't talked much about it and i don't want to like... avoid your new life now."

Y/n sighed, looking towards the phone to see Sarah looking back down at her work in front of her. "Fine. Well, it doesn't particularly suck. The no surfing part definitely does, though, but what can you do. And the coffee here... no, its just so bad, babe. granted, i only had one, and it's in my cup holder right now but it's gross."

"My coffee making is better, right?" Sarah asked as Y/n gave a hefty nod.

"So much better, even if it is the only thing you're good at making." Y/n laughed and Sarah attempted to refuse a smile, her cheeks quivering from trying to keep it down. "But the weather dropped today, randomly. It was seventy yesterday, fifty today but i think i'm getting used to the cold."

Sarah lifted her head back to the phone, watching Y/n focus on driving, her eyes diverting on places away from the screen. Sarah but at her inner cheek, drumming her fingers against the white wood that rested under her forearms. "Used to it?" Sarah asked. She knew Y/n's move was permanent at least until she was eighteen but something about those words made it seem more realistic. She was getting used to a place that wasn't home.

Y/n hummed. "Yeah, i'm probably being dramatic. I saw a guy walking around in a tank top and shorts while i'm wearing double pair of socks right now." she grinned at her own comment though picking up on Sarah's sudden discomfort when she replied with a small 'wow'. "Lover?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" Y/n asked, the car slowing to a stop at a red light.

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just... the work. Keep your eye on the road."

"Sarah." The blond recognized the tone of voice quickly.

"Just... I just fully realized how permanent this is. I won't see you until, what? December? That's a long time, Y/n! And, i get it, it's your home now and i can't do anything about it but—"

Y/n was quick to cut her off. "I never said this is home. Sure I live here but it's just a couple walls and a roof. It's not home, Sarah." Y/n began. "Home is you. And trust me, i've been missing home the second i got on that ferry."

Despite them having to look at one another through a glass screen the feeling—the connection between the two of them was still felt. Sarah could feel the normal warm feeling she would've gotten whenever Y/n would simply hold her hand or brush her hair over her ear. she held that much of an effect on Sarah in person and somehow even thousands of miles away.

Sarah hadn't even realized she had been staring for a total of twenty seconds until a singular tear fell down her blushing cheeks. she quickly sniffled, recomposing herself as she wiped it away. "Are you seriously making me cry right now?" She muttered with the way the atmosphere had become though relishing in the way Y/n laughed in response.

"Yes, thank you for ignoring everything i just said, lover." Y/n put the car back in drive as the light went green. Due to the steets being relatively empty in her new small town, she took the time to look back over at the phone to Sarah. "I love you."

Sarah's smile widened in thag very moment, pursing her lips before pushing them out. "I love you more."

"And don't worry. I won't get to used to it. I'll be back home, to you, before you even know it." Y/n took a small glance to the phone, enjoying Sarah's gaze that showed even with the distance put between the two of them, they'd be fine.

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #sarah cameron fluff #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron #obx imagine #john b routledge #pope heyward

183 notes · View notes

amberbeach · 3 years

Text

'HALLOWEEN'

gif belongs to me

Your friends were skeptical about Troy Burrows. While you only spoke fondly of your boyfriend of three months, they were civil in his company but every time he rushed off their suspicions grew.

Tonight you wanted to build bridges between them, knowing Troy understood why they were wary of him, but the Red Ranger wanted to make a better impression with them. And the Halloween party one of your friends was throwing presented him with the opportunity.

So why wasn't he here?

You checked the clock on the wall for the fifth time, sighing softly as you sip your drink. You glanced around the room, briefly locking eyes with two of your friends who were talking to a boy you recognized from classes, inwardly groaning when he walked over, realizing this was another attempt to 'find you someone better' than Troy.

It was the third time this had happened and as the boy approached, opening his mouth to speak, you were unable to mask your annoyance, your sour expression and tone surprising the boy who had been encouraged to approach you.

"Not interested." You left the party, heading outside to sit on the porch. There was only one reason why Troy would be late and you felt sick at the thought of him being in danger. His friends had become your own and as you searched for the latest news reports, finding there was indeed a battle between the Power Rangers and the latest threat to humanity, you hoped everyone was safe.

You looked up when the boy took a seat beside you.

"I didn't mean to -"

"I'm sorry."

You smiled softly, glancing away while the boy chuckled. "I know my friends were behind it, but I already have a boyfriend."

He nodded in understanding, "The new kid, isn't it? Roy?"

"Troy." You corrected. "And he's hardly new he's been here four months."

The amused smile on his lips hid the sadness in his eyes as he spoke, "You don't remember me, do you?"

"We have biology together."

"You also tutored me last year for history." You sheepishly smiled while he chuckled. "It's fine. It's been a while since we've actually spoken. I remember you because without your help I wouldn't have passed history."

You laughed softly, and he smiled, admiring you while your eyes looked around the crowd of teenagers gathered in the front yard.

"I always thought you were very beautiful, you know?" You glanced at him, surprised by his confession. "When you are focused, your eyebrows sort of knitted together and I always thought it was the cutest thing."

You opened your mouth to speak when you heard someone call your name, and you were relieved for many reasons when you saw Gia waving at you. Your eyes searched the group for injuries, landing on Troy who had a small cut on his left temple. You smiled as you approached the group, immediately embracing Troy who smiled into your shoulder, catching sight of the envious gaze of the boy you had been talking to before he went inside.

"Are you okay?" You pulled back slightly, hands on his arms as you smiled up at him.

"Sorry, I'm late."

"Halloween happens every year." You shrugged off, unaware of Troy smiling at you as you addressed his team. "You guys look amazing!"

You headed inside the house, rejoining the party and you smiled when the others led Orion through the crowd, careful not to lose him, and turned to Troy, taking his hands.

"Have a dance left in you?" You asked.

Troy smiled, "For you. Always."

Laughter left your lips when he twirled you underneath his arm, leading you to where the other teenagers were dancing. You placed a hand on the nape of his neck, another on his arm which wrapped around your waist. Although the song was upbeat, you and Troy gently swayed, admiring each other up close for the first time that day.

"Is everything okay?" You asked quietly.

He nodded. "For another day."

You smiled when he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away. You rested your head on his shoulder to hide the blush on your cheeks, smiling into his shoulder.

Across the room, your friends watched the moment and knew that they were wrong. From the way he smiled and held you closer, they could see how much Troy cared about you. And how much you cared about him. On that Halloween night, there were two victories.

#troy burrows #troy burrows x reader #troy burrows imagine #troy burrows imagines #power rangers megaforce #power rangers megaforce imagine #power rangers megaforce imagines

102 notes · View notes

that1fanficwriter · 3 years

Text

Mothers Know

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon x reader

Summary: After being told that you must marry the prince of another kingdom your parent take you to go meet your betrothed.

"Arthur, I love you. More than anything but my mother just told me that I am to be married to some prince." You say with kindness and then venom in your voice.

"I understand," Arthur says pulling you into a close embrace "just know; you will always have my heart."

"And you will always have mine lofian."

Ye Olde Time Skip

“If you do not hurry up we are going to be late.” Your mother scolded.

“Would that really be all that bad? I don’t know him, let alone want to marry him.” You retorted.

“Yes, it would. We have a reputation to uphold. Besides, it may not be as bad as you think. You’re father and I had an arranged marriage and we grew to love each other very dearly.” Your mother tells you as you both mount your horses.

The ride is filled with stubborn silence. You contemplate your options the whole way trying to plan some way to escape. The longer you ride the more you realize that you recognize the path you are taking as you had traveled it many times.

As you get closer you can feel hope start to bubble up at the idea that you might not suffer as you had once thought.

By the time you pass through the gates and enter the citadel your whole outlook has changed and you can hardly keep yourself from beaming ear to ear.

“Mother why didn’t you tell me where we were going?” You ask.

“Well I wanted you have a nice surprise.” She tells you with a knowing smile only mother’s can have.

When your group finally reached the stairs of the palace you notice Arthur’s harsh glare straight ahead of him as he stands by his father. The only other times you have seen him look so stoic are when he tells you about his father trying to set him up and you realize he must not have seen you yet.

You and your mother dismount and are introduced to the court. You slowly walk up the steps to Arthur and once you finally stand in front of him you see him focus on your face and realize it is you. His face lights up with a smile that he quickly covers up by kissing the back you your hand.

“My lady,” he says to you “it is good to see you have arrived safely.”

“Thank you my lord. It is good to see Camelot thriving.” You respond with a small smile on your face.

“May I show you to your room?”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

Arthur leads you back into the castle and away from the other people.

“It is so good to see you Arthur. I couldn’t imagine having to marry someone I don’t love.” You say pulling him into a long waited embrace.

“I felt the same way. I was so relieved to see you standing there.” He says, clutching you in return.

Once he pulls away he takes your hand again and leads you through the castle to a beautiful room surrounded by stained glass windows.

“Arthur, this is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.” You say in awe, slowly turning around.

“I’m glad you like it. I brought you here first because I wanted to ask you something.” He pauses as you face him. “I know we don’t have much of a choice but I wanted to properly ask you. Will you marry me?” He asks pulling out a beautifully woven ring. “I wanted to ask you before my father told me that he had arranged for me to marry someone which is why I got this ring for you. It was always for you. It’s not just some ring my father found and gave to me to give to whoever I was supposed to marry; I want you to know that.” He starts to ramble on.

“Arthur, I would marry you regardless of the ring. I love you so much.” You say as you cut him off.

“Thank you lofian. I love you more than you could possibly know.” He says pulling you into a loving kiss.

“We should probably tell our parents about this before the feast tonight.” You say as you break apart from each other.

“I guess we should.” He laughs “Now, would you still like me to show you to your room or should I show you to mine?” He says with a smile, leading you back through the castle.

157 notes · View notes

luthienne · 4 years

Note

Your blog's *chef's kiss* and I wish to ask do you have any quotes or what comes to mind when it comes to love mingled with grief/pain? Like losing someone at the stinging cost of the other? Or looking at a completed wonderful thing but knowing the pain and blood it stands on to be that way? Or when you look at someone realizing you now share hearts whether youd like it or not, that no bond in both your lives will ever come close to what both of you have(1)

how the love stiches both of you up, how achingly tender & vulnerable & warming it is and almost crying looking at where it is, how it is, what it became and what it grew from. Would love to hear if you got any that pops to your mind❤(2)

you are so kind! thank you, angel ♡ here and here are posts that reflect love mingled w grief/pain and tender/sweet love. here are a few more quotes that sort of encompass both for me:

“Not a day passes that I do not see ourselves, you and me, as we were when we met first. Every day of my life I see that.”

James Joyce, Exiles: A Play In Three Acts

“We can never go back. I know that now. We can go forward. We can find the love our hearts long for, but not until we let go grief about the love we lost long ago, when we were little and had no voice to speak the heart’s longing. All the years of my life I thought I was searching for love I found, retrospectively, to be years where I was simply trying to recover what had been lost, to return to the first home, to get back the rapture of first love. I was not really ready to love or be loved in the present. I was still mourning — clinging to the broken heart of girlhood, to broken connections. When that mourning ceased I was able to love again. I awakened from my trance state and was stunned to find the world I was living in, the world of the present, was no longer a world open to love. And I noticed that all around me I heard testimony that lovelessness had become the order of the day. I feel our nation’s turning away from love as intensely as I felt love’s abandonment in my girlhood. Turning away we risk moving into a wilderness of spirit so intense we may never find our way home again. I write of love to bear witness both to the danger in this movement, and to call for a return to love. Redeemed and restored, love returns us to the promise of everlasting life. When we love we can let our hearts speak.”

Bell Hooks, All About Love

“My heart is full not of guilt, or shame, or remorse, but of grief… Everything has become too terribly mixed up.”

Boris Pasternak, in a letter to Leonid Pasternak, from Letters Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetaeva, Rilke

Jamie Anderson // Art piece by Ikenaga Yasunari (x)

“But if it’s love, by God, what is this thing? If good, why then the bitter mortal sting?”

Petrarch, from the ‘Canzoniere’ (tr. Mark Musa)

“bittersweet, undefeated creature – against you there is no defence”

Sappho, from Poems and Fragments (tr. Josephine Palmer)

“And if I should pick out the good in you – each shard of broken light, like glass from the wreck of such beauty, and look at that – or one golden afternoon when you hovered above me in rapture, oh half god – how would I bear to lift my hands, how would I bear to close my eyes and let you fall, and love be damned?”

Cecilia Woloch, “Lucifer, Full of Light,” Carpathia

Ada Limón, Bright Dead Things; “The Good Fight”

“...and if I cut myself, it was you I bled.”

Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

“I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.”

Salvador Plascencia, The People of Paper

Henry Dumas, Knees of a Natural Man; “Valentines”

“No te nombro; pero estás en mí como la música en la garganta del ruiseñor aunque no esté cantando.

I never call your name, but you are in me like the song in the nightingale’s throat even when it’s not singing.”

Dulce María Loynaz, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems; “Poema LVII” (tr. James O’Connor)

Marguerite Duras - India Song (1975)

“I am sad because I love you, because I love you so much, and because I am not a bee to buzz with you lightly. I am not a flower, not a tree, not a rain-hewn stone. I am not a storm or a cresting wave, not a thorn or a vine. I am not the sun stinging the water, not the moon on the snow. I am not a star in the dark. I am not the dew-wet wind, not the cloud-stained dawn. I am only a girl, a small, plain girl, a girl who must smear her lips in honey to be found sweet.”

Amal El-Mohtar, The Honey Month

“Whether it was the quality of light or the clarity of my feelings for you, I don’t know, but there was softness and no blurring. ‘This is not a lie,’ I said to myself. ‘It may not hold, but it is true.’”

Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

“He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you're dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.”

Louise Glück, from Averno; "A Myth of Devotion"

Anna Akhmatova, Final Meeting: Selected Poetry (tr. Andrey Kneller)

“Your dying is my dying. / In you I exist—to live or not.”

Euripedes, from Alkestis (tr. Anne Carson)

Richard Siken, “Scheherazade”

“First love tempts / then puts out our eyes.”

Salma al-Khadra al-Jayyusi, from ‘Dearest love - III’ (ed. Charles Doria), Women of the Fertile Crescent: An Anthology of Modern Poetry by Arab Women (ed. Kamal Boullata)

Interactive :: House Saints by Hala Alyan

“We were the heartbreak of truth. / We were willing to break even more.”

Andrea Gibson, from The Madness Vase; “Close For Comfort”

“God, what are you doing to me? / What am I doing to myself?”

Adonis, from ‘Concerto for the Veiled Christ’, Selected Poems (tr. Khaled Mattawa)

“No. I was not afraid of him; but of myself. I seemed reborn in his unreflective eyes, reborn in unfamiliar shapes. I hardly recognized myself from his descriptions of me and yet, and yet – might there not be a grain of beastly truth in them?”

Angela Carter, from “The Bloody Chamber”

“It is true we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.”

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus

Keaton Henson, “Alright”

Velimir Khlebnikov, The Collected Poems & Writings of V. K. “My Darling,”

“But love is impossible and it goes on / despite the impossible. You’re the muscle / I cut from the bone and still the bone / remembers, still it wants (so much, it wants) / the flesh back, the real thing, / if only to rail against it, if only / to argue and fight, if only to miss / a solve-able absence.”

Ada Limón, Bright Dead Things; “In A Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me”

The Letters of Frida Kahlo: Cartas Apasionadas, tr. by Martha Zamora

Letter to Diego Rivera, July 23rd, 1935

“I want to give you everything. This is called a sickness.”

Camille Rankine, from Possession

Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours: Love Poems to God; ‘Lösch mir die Augen aus: ich kann dich sehen’, tr. Anita Barrows & Joanna Macy

“Love that incorporates, that devours the other person, that cuts the tendons of the will. Love as immolation of the self.”

Susan Sontag, from Reborn: “July, 1958”

#ask #anon #compilation #quote compilation #the dark's his bone #love as a force of nature #long post #i am. so tired #i hope these make sense #i've got several more asks that i promise i am getting around to --

960 notes · View notes

unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Note

i love ur new fic! only a couple of requests - more parts to it! and...more softness between the two of them 🥺 we hardly get given any in the show </3

:)) ty so so much, anon!!! as requested, here’s another installment of the alternate POV fic (this time from tami’s perspective) and a whooole lot of domestic gallavich softness (featuring very sappy kitchen slow dancing)

Tami knew that the pandemic had taken a toll on its fair share of relationships— hell, hers and Lip’s included. But as much as she and Lip bickered and miscommunicated and regularly put up solid walls of lies between each other, at least, the very least—

At least they weren’t like Ian and Mickey.

At some point between being head-over-heels, fuck-all-night crazy for each other and getting married, something between Lip’s brother and his stellar choice of a Southside boyfriend had definitely changed. Tami wasn’t really close to either of them, other than Ian’s borderline obsession with Fred and her gratefulness for the cooing baby voice that came over him every time Tami thrust her tired arms out for him to take the screaming toddler in her arms, and she barely crossed paths with Mickey in a situation that wasn’t coordinating frozen waffles for breakfast or sitting across from him in the living room during Gallagher family movie nights that always inevitably turned into a passionate thirty minute screaming match about which movie to pick— but ever since the first time she set foot into the slumped and sagging Gallagher house, Tami knew that Ian and his choice of a prison-break boyfriend were something special, at least at the beginning.

She’d seen it the first time she met the two of them, when these two grown men were willingly crashing in that shitty single bed in the boys’ room while she and Lip were slumming it in the ever-so-spacious privacy of the cramped room with the accordion door, back when the halls were crawling with strangers making tamales and Fred was barely weeks old and Tami was inches away from losing her shit; Tami couldn’t imagine being in a smaller and more confined space than the one that she was in, locking herself in the bathroom behind an actual fucking door every chance for some peace and quiet, distancing herself from Lip every chance she got— and then there was Ian and Mickey down the hall, sleeping pressed together on a concave mattress meant for a single teenager, pouring each other coffee and trading glances as they sat next to each other at the breakfast table, and pulling each other closer every second they had the chance despite the fact that they’d just gotten out of a months-long prison stay together. There was something so earnest, and so weirdly romantic, about seeing a hardass like Mickey Milkovich, someone with “Fuck U Up” tattoos on his knuckles and more of a sailor’s vocabulary than Tami had, turn to putty whenever he was in proximity to Lip’s little brother. Tami had to be honest—she was kind of impressed. These guys clearly had the teenager, puppy-dog kind of love for each other that hadn’t really gone away, something that she didn’t think that she and Lip ever really had, or ever really would— so as much as she felt like her life and her relationship with Lip was spiraling towards a series of cascading failures, it was nice to know that at least someone in the Gallagher house had a sturdy, stable relationship.

And then, of course, the pandemic hit.

When all this COVID shit started, Tami had counted her infinite blessings that she and Lip had gotten a place of their own outside the Gallagher house before all the sprawling weeks of lockdowns; Tami couldn’t imagine the kind of unforgiving hell on earth it would be to quarantine in that tiny slumped house, in a tiny cramped room, for months on end until the U.S. tangentially got its shit together. So it made sense, really, that everything between Ian and Mickey had changed.

She’d noticed it that first morning, when she and Lip finally dropped by the house after weeks of hunkering down to have breakfast with everyone, carrying a box of cheap pastries they’d gotten on the walk over— and the first thing she’d noticed when she walked into the kitchen was how far apart Mickey and Ian were sitting, on opposite ends of the rickety kitchen table, any scarce dialogue between the two of them turned brittle and stale.

There were spats, now, and gentle shoves that turned less gentle; she and Lip weren’t around the house much anymore, thank fucking god, but what few conversations she did see between Ian and Mickey always ended with raised voices and them both practically having steam coming out of their ears, or with some stray bystander needing to plant themselves in the middle of the married couple to tell them to calm the fuck down. Tami would lock eyes with Lip as they scuffled in the kitchen, her eyebrows raised in a message that she knew Lip understood: “See, this is why I never want to get married.”

So that was pretty much the situation Tami expected to be walking into, late one afternoon when Lip was presumably off doing some shady shit with those stolen bikes and Tami was stuck at the Gallagher house waiting to meet up with him so they could keep working through “Operation Sell the Gallagher House to Gentrifiers.” Tami had expected Lip to be here a couple of hours ago, and was honestly debating just saying fuck it and going home— but Fred had passed out in Tami’s lap as they were sitting on the couch a couple of minutes ago and Tami was not going to wake this monster child up before he was ready and took another hour of crying and writhing to settle down again. Tami was leaning back, closing her eyes and enjoying a rare moment of peace in this godforsaken house… when she was snapped back into reality by the sound of a kitchen cupboard slamming shut.

Huh. Tami had apparently drifted off, but Freddie was still sound asleep in her lap, pinning her down. It was definitely the early evening by now— the sun had started to set, glowing purple from behind the thin curtains.

A clang came from the kitchen again, and Tami craned her neck as much as she could without stirring the sleeping toddler in her lap to peer into the kitchen from the open doorway to see if Lip was home— and instead, she saw Ian standing by the counter opening something with a can opener, and Mickey beside him.

It looked like they’d been in the kitchen a while—from the corner of her eye she could see Mickey perched on the countertop sipping a beer, his legs swinging while Ian milled around him pulling things from the cabinets and manning the stovetop. She knew both of the boys weren’t much of a cook, and from what she’d seen Ian’s culinary abilities didn’t exceed heating up canned soup or spreading butter on toast— but it looked like he was chopping onions and opening a can of black beans for something, which struck her by surprise. There was music playing low from a little portable speaker in the kitchen, presumably something Ian had brought down from the bedroom— right now there was some 80s hit playing that reminded Tami of the music her dad used to listen to while he was putzing around in the garage when she was little, if she was bring totally honest. But Mickey seemed to be enjoying it, his head bobbing slightly to the beat while he scrolled through what she recognized as Ian’s phone.

“Okay, the recipe website says you’ve gotta add cumin now. What the fuck is cumin?”

She could hear Ian’s dry laugh. “A spice? I think? We probably don’t even have it, I’ll just add a shit ton of chili powder and it’ll taste fine.”

“Whatever you say, Rachel Ray.”

Tami could see Ian lean to flip Mickey off, then turn to poke through the cabinets. Weird. Ian had flipped Mickey off, sure, but there wasn’t any malice in it; for the first time in a while, it seemed like the two of them were actually coexisting peacefully for once— which, thank god for that, at the very least because it meant Fred would stay sleeping on her lap for a while until Lip got home.

Now that she thought back on it, Ian and Mickey had seemed a bit more settled lately— she’d heard bits and pieces about all the stuff with Mickey’s abusive asshole of a dad moving in next door, and about the two of them starting a security business together in that random ambulance that was always parked in the street now (Tami wasn’t even going to ask)— she could imagine that running errands around Chicago together all day long in matching jumpsuits would bring anyone closer together. This was the first time she’d really seen them enjoy being in each other’s space since the pandemic started, just casually hanging out around the house without something fiery about to erupt between them, whether from anger or passion— and honestly, it was kind of nice to by in proximity to, just listening to their chatter floating back and forth and the sizzling of onions and chili flakes in a pan while the music drifted between them.

Tami sat there for a while, closing her eyes again as the shadows in the room grew deeper, listening to some Bon Jovi song play low in the background and feeling the solid weight of Fred breathing evenly pressed against her chest.

A couple minutes of minutes later, she heard the stove being turned off, and the clanking of plates being taken out of the cabinets as the song ended.

“Hey, can I pick a song?” Ian asked, over the sound of him putting the sizzling pan into the sink.

Mickey burped loudly, and Tami could see that he was still perched on the edge of the kitchen counter by the stovetop.

“Yeah, but put on something good, man. None of your techno bullshit.”

“Pass me my phone.”

Ian fidgeted with the phone for a moment—and then a familiar song, a lot softer than the cheerful drumbeats of the melodies before, came streaming through the speaker.

“I found a love, for me…”

Immediately, she heard Mickey chuckle loudly, like he was surprised.

“Fuuuucking softie,” Mickey groaned, but when Tami craned her neck again to slyly peer at the two of them in the kitchen she could see that he was grinning. At first Tami was confused, but then a memory started to stir— this was their wedding song, wasn’t it? She remembered hearing it waft through the front hallways of the dingy polka house while she and Lip were having their screaming match over Fred. Ah, good memories.

Ian stepped closer to Mickey, and Tami promptly heard the pad of Mickey’s feet hitting the ground as he slid off of the kitchen countertop.

“Dance with me?”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Mickey breathed, and then they were silent. From where she was sitting, Tami could see Ian’s broad shoulders standing in front of where Mickey had been seated— his head was curled downward slightly, and Mickey was pinned close against him, his face pressed into the upper half of Ian’s shoulder.

Well, damn. Tami smirked to herself. I guess that security business has worked some magic after all.

Out of nowhere, Fred started to stir and wriggle in Tami’s lap.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t really want to break up the sappy moment, but Freddie was definitely due for a diaper change and was going to be a fussy mess in about five seconds if she didn’t scoop him up right now.

She quickly rose from the lumpy couch, cradling the back of Fred’s head in her hands and beelining through kitchen doorway.

Instantly, Mickey nearly jumped out his skin when he saw Tami— he immediately detached himself from Ian’s shoulder and detangled himself from Ian’s arms. Ian just grinned sheepishly and leaned against the counter, letting Mickey ever-so-slightly slump against him.

Tami paused, taking the scene in and trying to hold back a knowing smile as Freddie fussed on her shoulder.

“The fuck’re you looking at?”

Mickey’s neck turned blotchy and flushed, and he darted his eyes to Freddie and then back to Tami.

Tami knew she had a sloped, sappy smile on her face. “Nothing. Just good to see you guys not ripping each other’s throats out for once.”

Mickey let out a slight breath, slumping back towards Ian’s chest even more— then he rolled his eyes, but the gesture was light and fond.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively. Ian was still practically beaming, and draped a hand across Mickey’s waist— and Tami watched as he slowly, slowly pressed a kiss to Mickey’s temple and Mickey’s posture immediately softened, like the air was being let out of him.

Wow. Okay. Guess the old Ian and Mickey are back.

Tami raised Freddie slightly onto her shoulder, then pushed past the two of them towards the back stairs, where Tami could hopefully go up and change her son’s shitty diaper in peace— and as she started to climb the stairs, she heard one final quip from Mickey:

“Your brother can’t sell this house fast enough, man.”

#okay rori u wrote two fics in one day & now u must lesson plan #lol #but i hope u enjoyed!!!<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #tami tamietti

96 notes · View notes

vs-redemption · 3 years

Note

Hey! Well since today is halloween , can i request a Dabi,Twice,Toga or Tomura (your choice) where thier s/o wanted to watch a very gore/scary horror movie with them but never got scared?

From Cindy: Thanks for request anon! I bumped this one up to the top of the priority list so that I could get it out as close to Halloween as possible! I chose to write Toga instead of Shigaraki just because I’ve never written for her and wanted to give it a shot. If you still want one with Shiggy, don’t hesitate to send in another request!

Dabi, Twice, and Toga x Reader - Watching a scary movie together

Dabi

One of the things Dabi enjoyed most about dating you was that you had zero connections with the League of Villains and were completely uninvolved in his extracurricular criminal activities. Those things were still important to him, of course, but after spending most of his time burning unworthy allies alive in alleyways, unleashing nomus into cities full of innocent people, and plotting ways to bring about the destruction of the country’s corrupted society in general, it was nice to have someone he could go to and take a break from the violence and just relax with.

You had never judged him for his goals or the morally questionable ways he went about achieving them, but you yourself had never expressed even the tiniest desire to participate. You agreed with him about some of the injustices present in the whole hero/villain system, but from what Dabi could tell, there wasn’t a single vengeful or violent bone in your body. Because of this, it was pretty amusing to him when you came up to him on Halloween, asking him to watch a scary movie with you. He lets out a dry laugh, imagining that you had one of the PG classics in mind. Imagine his surprise when he plopped down on the couch next to you and saw you pull up the title of the most brutal and bloody slasher movie available on the TV.

“Hey, you sure you want to watch something like this?” Dabi had to believe you’d gone to that movie on accident. “How about something a little more family friendly?” He raises his eyebrows when you whirl around to face him with a cute scowl as if he’d offended you.

“It’s Halloween, Dabi.” You say it as if that was all the reason you needed to back your decision. You turn back to the TV and press the play button on the remote. Dabi shrugs his shoulders and makes himself comfortable as the opening credits begin to play. Once you figured out how bad the movie actually was, he was sure you’d turn it off and switch to a different one. His bewilderment grew in intensity as the characters got hacked to pieces one by one with not a sound or twitch from you. By the end of the movie he’d gone from total shock to strangely proud. Who knew the love of his life would have such an iron stomach?

Twice

Twice had been looking forward to Halloween ever since Shigaraki had informed the League of Villains that they’d all be free from doing any nefarious activities that day. It wasn’t that he cared much for the spooky holiday, but it was rare for him to get a day off from his villain duties. Naturally, his plan was to spend the entire day with you, his imagination conjuring up adorable images of carving pumpkins together and making popcorn balls to pass out to the neighborhood trick-or-treaters. Thankfully, he could wear a mask when answering the door so nobody would recognize him as a member of the League of Villains.

When the day of October 31st finally arrived, Twice showed up at your place with bags full of Halloween candy and a bunch of other random things he’d managed to swipe from a nearby grocery store. He had told you that he would do anything you wanted today, so he wanted to be prepared. Needless to say, he hadn’t been ready at all for you to announce that you’d rented the new horror film that had come out recently. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the rating and read the description.

“Isn’t this too scary?” He asks you, the concerned look on his face was obvious even with the mask he wore over his head.

“No, I don’t think so,” you shake your head while grabbing a blanket so that you could both snuggle up together. “It’s perfect to get us into the Halloween spirit.”

“I just don’t want you to get nightmares,” he says sweetly before his clashing personality spoke up, “You’re going to cry for your mommy!”

“I’ll be fine.” You reassure him with a kiss on the cheek before pulling him over to the couch. “There’s no way I can get scared as long as you hold my hand.” The sweet words made Twice feel a little better, but he still had some reservations. If watching a movie like this would make you happy though, he wouldn’t protest anymore.

Somehow, all his worries had backfired on him. The film you’d chosen was full of jump scares that seemed to catch him off guard no matter how much he tried to prepare for them. What made it worse was the little snicker you let out each and every time he gasped and clenched his hand tighter around yours.

“How come this movie isn’t affecting you at all?” he whispers during an especially tense scene where the music really exaggerated the suspense. “You crazy or something?” You let out a small laugh and lean closer into his side.

“One of us has to be the brave one,” you tease while patting him affectionately on the leg. He knows you’re joking but puts a hand dramatically over his heart to act wounded anyway. The smile his antics bring to your face cheers him up, and he knows he’d watch a million more scary movies as long as it meant spending time with you.

Toga

“Happy Halloween!” Toga attacks you with a hug as soon as you open the door to let her in. Your front room fills with the sound of your laughter as she peppers your face with kisses. She was always super affectionate, especially if you hadn’t see each other in a while. Her role in the League of Villains kept her pretty busy, so you both cherished these rare occasions that allowed you to spend time together.

“Happy Halloween,” you reply happily once she gives you a moment to catch your breath. “I can hardly believe we have the whole night to ourselves!”

“I know!” Toga skips into your kitchen, going right for the block of knives you kept on the counter. She pulls out the biggest one. “I have so many ideas! Do you think we could make a jack-o-lantern with Mr. Stainy’s face on it?” Even though carving out the details of the hero killer’s face seemed a little above either of your skill levels, gutting and butchering a pumpkin sounded right up Toga’s alley.

“We can certainly try,” you say, causing your girlfriend to smile happily and cuddle the knife she was holding to her chest. It had taken you a while to get used to her quirky behavior, but now it hardly registered in your mind when she did anything unconventional like that.

“Hey,” you call her attention after a second. “Before we carve pumpkins, I was thinking we could watch a movie.” You tell her the title and a manic grin spreads across her face. Before you can even blink, she’s standing right in front of you.

“I’ve heard of that movie,” she hums while tilting her head curiously. “Isn’t it really super bloody and gory?” You nod your head in confirmation while wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“You like blood and gore,” you say knowingly. “That’s why I picked it.” Toga taps the flat end of the knife she was still holding against your shoulder as she thinks over your words.

“You’d really watch something like that for me?” she asks almost shyly. You nod your head again and she lets out a delightful sounding laugh.

“Okay!” She pulls out of your embrace so she can bounce excitedly on the balls of her feet. “But if you get sick, you can’t blame me!”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure her before running to grab pillows and blankets from your room to make the sofa more comfortable.

As the movie starts, Toga is both surprised and impressed when you keep your promise. The brutal action from the movie doesn’t appear to bother you at all. In fact, you seemed just as enthralled by it as she was. By the middle of the movie, both of you are cheering and rooting for the killer as he hunts down and slaughters each of his victims. When the ending credits begin to roll, you both agree that you’d have to arrange for more horror movie nights in the future.

#Dabi x reader #Toga x reader #Himiko toga x reader #Twice x reader #Jin bubaigawara x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Dabi #Himiko Toga #jin bubaigawara #Bnha twice #bnha #mna #Cindy's Writing

276 notes · View notes