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thatbigbisexual29 · 11 months

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Master Knows Best (Hell's Paradise)

BOY OH BOY I A ACCIDENTALLY GOT ON THE TRAIN TO WRITER'S BLOCK TOWN WHOOPSIE DAISY! Yeah... sorry guys, these two fic I'm working on are gonna take longer than I thought. So, here's a Hell's Paradise fic to make up for it! I fell in love with these two and I wrote this not too long ago. And I still might post that OC fic I talked about but idk yet. Anyways, enjoy for now, and thanks for your patience :)

How could Shion best describe his new apprentice? If he was trying to be nice, he would say that Tenza was a promising young boy with a good life ahead of him. If he were to be honest… Shion would describe him as a lazy, disinterested, rapscallion who only wanted to do whatever he pleased. But he wasn’t going to give up on him. Shion didn’t want to bury another student…

Before the swordsman had time to fall into more depressing thoughts, he sensed movement from behind him. Shion sat outside the dojo to feel the warm sun on his face, the dojo doors open behind him, when he felt mischief seep into the calm air. He smirked. He could hear Tenza doing his damndest to quietly sneak up behind him. After getting in that one hit, he felt awful cocky towards his master. Shion could hear each one of his student’s movements. He was not the stealthiest of people, yet he still dared. As mentioned before, Tenza was cocky.

Shion, feeling a bit mischievous himself, decided to play it up a bit. He took in a deep breath of air and let out a content sigh, even uncrossing his arm and leaning against the wood planks behind him. He could hear the cocky smirk form on Tenza’s lips as he inched closer and closer. Shion couldn’t hold back his own smile, the playful energy getting to him. He heard Tenza whisper to himself “1… 2… 3!” The blond man suddenly leapt forward, arms outstretched in an effort to tackle his master to the ground.

And at that moment, Shion softly exclaimed, “Ooh, a grasshopper.” and bent down to ‘pick up’ said grasshopper. In reality, there was no grasshopper. Shion heard his student fly out of the dojo with a surprised cry and loud grunt as he face planted into the dirt.

Shion burst out a loud laugh, holding his stomach and doubling over as Tenza gave him a look of betrayal, which made the sword master laugh even harder. Tenza couldn’t even fight down the smile that grew on his own face or the laughter bubbling from his lips. Tenza sat up and laughed with his teacher for a solid minute, even wiping away tears of mirth because of how hysterical he got.

“Y-Youhu old fart! Why did you do that??” Tenza accused, pointing at the blind swordsman. Shion chortled and snorted, only making Tenza want to laugh more. He had never seen the older man this cracked up before. It was kinda weird, but in a fun way. Shion giggled to himself then responded, “Because you were trying to get the jump on me! You thought I wasn’t going to hear you? Or trick you, for that matter?” The swordsman approached and offered his arm to the young man, smiling like he’s never smiled before. Tenza took it… and quickly pulled Shion to the floor. Shion, not expecting this, grunted and fell next to his student in the dirt. Being young and swift, Tenza pushed Shion onto his back and sat on his hips, holding down his shoulders.

“Hah! Gotcha now, old man! This is how we do it in the slums!” he celebrated, smiling at the shock on Shion’s face. Shion laughed again and smiled.

“Ah, you have much to learn, Tenza. For instance, if you want to subdue an enemy, you must go for their wrists. Or else, they can do… this!” In a swift motion, Shion flexed his fingers into claws and dug into Tenza’s sides. The young man shrieked and curled into his side in an attempt to avoid his master’s hands. The blind man turned the tables on Tenza and switched their positions. Now, Shion was holding Tenza to the ground as he sat above him, wiggling and digging his fingers into the young man’s sides. Tenza jerked back and forth as a happy laugh left his smiling lips, shaking his head and making his blond hair thrash about. He let out high pitched giggles which fought for Shion’s favorite sound, right next to Eizen’s squawk of surprise when you pinch his lower back. Tenza’s laugh is as silly as he is. It sounds goofy, childish, and perfect for a kid his age. It really suited him.

“Youhuhuhu fart! Stahahahahap ihihihihit! Get ohohohohoff! Ohohohold mahahahahahahahan enohohohohough!” Tenza fussed, grabbing fistfuls of Shion’s sleeves. Shion smiled at his student, drinking in his happy attitude. He hasn’t been playful like this with anyone for a very long time. He called these times ‘breaths of fresh air’ since they come so rarely, but they are welcomed all the same. Shion, ignoring Tenza’s pleas, crawled his fingers up and into his ribs which made the boy’s laughter grow stronger. Tenza arched his back and proceeded to flop like a fish. His giggles turned into hysterical cackles, which was another new favorite sound Shion discovered. Shion laughed at his actions.

“And I thought I caught my student, not a fish! And what a wiggly fish this is! I don’t think I’ve met a fish this wiggly! I wonder if he’ll keep wiggling if I keep tickling him?” Shion pondered aloud, flustering his hysterical student.

“SEHEHEHEHEHENSEI!!” Tenza screamed. As much as he enjoyed this little moment, he was absolutely losing his mind. He had to retaliate or he would die! (Not really, he’s just overdramatic) Using that previously mentioned swiftness, used the same trick Shion used on him. He clawed his fingers and jabbed them into Shion’s sides. It was unexpected, much like Shion’s own bark of laughter. The blind man wrapped his arms around his stomach and pressed his elbows on Tenza’s fingers. Tenza, on the other hand, looked like he just won the lottery.

“Master, you’re?-”

“Tenza, don’t you dare. I’ll send you back out on the streets faster than you can say- eeEEYAAHHAHA!” Shion cried out as Tenza pushed him back, sending him to the ground and digging his hands into the hardened flesh. Now, Tenza was not the most experienced tickler. He only had momentary tickle fights with some of the older kids in his hometown, but only knew the feeling once or twice. But, he was experienced in clawing through dirt, which is kinda like tickling if you put pressure on the skin right. So, that’s what he did. He gently dug and clawed into Shion’s sides and belly and it made the poor swordsman toss his head back and cackle like a crazy man.

“Tehehehehenza!! Wahahahahahait! C-Cease this behahahahahahahaviour!” Shion tried to grab Tenza’s hands, but the young man was too quick. He bounced his fingers around his torso, poking and pinching to no end. Shion would be proud if he wasn’t the one getting tickled.

“Hell no, old man! I should get my revenge after you almost killed me! Now take that! And that and that!” Tenza smiled and laughed, enjoying himself as he tickled his master to tears. This feeling that rose in his chest… What was that? It was giddiness, excitement, happiness, and it overwhelmed him.

“T-Tehehenza! Be-Behihihihihind you! Staahahahahahahahap!” Shion spoke with more umph now, as if somewhat panicked.

“What, so you can trick me and tickle me again? No way, old man! Receive your just dessert!” Tenza smirked, digging right into a sweet giggle spot on his master’s ribs.

“I can assure you,” a wild Eizen appeared behind them, “your master is not trying to trick you.” Tenza squeaked in surprise and practically lept off his master, sitting on his knees and in a bowing position. “S-Sensei Eizen! I’m sorry we were just… just…” Tenza attempted to explain himself, but as he did, a heat started to overtake his face. Shion, now recovering, stood up with a slight smile on his face, not feeling Eizen’s harsh glare.

As the two adults spoke to each other, Tenza felt hot shame wash over his body, chasing away that warm, nice feeling from a few seconds ago. He knew Eizen could see his red-faced embarrassment, and maybe that’s why he stopped arguing.

“Just don’t let me see it again. Understood?” Eizen sighed. Tenza stood and agreed with Shion. As the two watched the man walk away, Tenza felt a poke to his arm. He turned to see Shion with a finger to his lips in a ‘hush’ motion. The blind man proceeded to sneak behind the red head and pinch his lower back, earning a hilarious squawk from the man. Shion and Tenza both burst out laughing. Shion grabbed Tenza’s arm and ran, Eizen hot on their trail.

That feeling Tenza felt earlier was back, and he finally understood what that feeling was. Tenza felt home.

#tickle fic #hells paradise #shion #tenza #hells paradise shion #hells paradise tenza #sfw tickles #eizen #halls paradise eizen #sfw tickle community

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naralanis · 3 years

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little bumps in the road (pt. 21)

Previously, in LBitR...

Lena has to admit she’s impressed—albeit exceedingly exasperated—when Nia does not budge an inch in her resolve to keep her locked away from Lex. They young hero apparently has a stubborn streak to rival Kara’s, and at some point, Lena simply has to concede defeat, if only for the fact that Nia seems close to bursting into tears whenever she tries to explain there’s no place Lex can’t reach.

Whatever Nia has seen in her visions, it’s enough to make her adamant and completely unmoving on the matter. It hurt; Lena understood it, even if she did not agree with the decision in the slightest, but still. It hurt.

Brainy is the one who comes to collect her, a silent Nia in tow, a few hours later. Lena had only recently been allowed to walk around her room—under heavy guard—so he comes to her with a rather apologetic look when he pulls a fresh pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

Lena offers her hands with only a resigned sigh. The cuffs barely close around the cast.

“My apologies,” Brainy says as they click into place, barely even tightened. “But we must keep up appearances.”

Nia is completely silent when Lena shoots her a look.

“This is a mistake,” Lena tries for the last time, a last-ditch effort. There’s no changing the resolve in Nia’s gaze. “We have to disable the implants—it’s the only way.”

Nia tries to remain utterly impassive, but there is a slight tremor to her lips that does not bode well. Before Lena can press further, Brainy interjects, looking apologetic. “There isn’t time,” he says, cutting through Nia’s determined silence with worry in his tone. “Supergirl has been spotted in Nevada—she’s undoubtedly on her way here. We cannot take the chance.”

Lena doesn’t try to say that they should take the chance, now more than ever. She doesn’t say that somehow, Lex will find her wherever it is they are taking her, and she’ll be powerless to stop him when he is literally inside her head.

Instead, she bites her tongue and lets DEO agents put a bag over her head. She doesn’t try to count the number of steps it takes to get to the van, or how many curves they take to this new, supposedly Lex-proof facility. She doesn’t even try to count the seconds in her head to work out how long the trip takes.

No, the entire time, Lena keeps her eyes shut and thinks.

She thinks about the miniscule implant in her skin, under a fresh layer of clean bandages changed only this morning. She thinks about the pattern in which the flashes of memories first appeared, tries to think about the memories she lost, she thinks of the blinding pain Lex’s trigger words had wreaked in her brain and her mind, physically and emotionally.

Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.

Most of all, Lena thinks about how the fuck she’s supposed to stop it from happening again.

The bag finally is taken off her head in a corridor so poorly lit Lena barely has to blink to adjust her eyes. It looks like any of the many run-of-the-mill military bunkers she’s seen in her lifetime. The main difference is the endless row of reinforced Plexiglass containment cells, all dark except for two, at the very end of the corridor.

One of them is empty; Lena assumes it will be hers. The other holds only a redheaded figure, slumped over a cot.

“Alex?” Lena breathes—the whisper comes out before she can even think about stopping it. The figure shifts ever so slightly in the cot, but Alex Danvers doesn’t deign to look her way. From where she’s standing, Lena can just see the white of fresh bandages at Alex’s temple.

The one other thing that draws Lena’s attention is the tall, brooding and stoic presence of J’onn, looming by the open cell next to Alex’s. Lena wonders why he’s here, wonders what he could possibly have to say to her, but the Martian remains utterly silent as Brainy and Nia escort her into her cell.

Once the handcuffs are off, Lena takes one step backward, and the door hisses shut; the loud click of the locking mechanism echoes eerily down the corridor, drowning out the breath that escapes Lena’s lungs.

They all stand there—well, Alex is still lying on her cot—for several moments. The air is thick with tension, and Lena wants to say something, but all she has to say are more arguments as to why what they’re doing is a terrible idea, and she already knows they will not be heard.

To Lena’s surprise, Nia’s the one to speak first.

“This��” she waves at their cells, hands trembling despite the strength and certainty she injects into her tone “—this is temporary. I promise.” Her eyes meet Lena’s framed by the blue of her Dreamer mask—it somehow makes her anguish even more apparent. She looks to where Alex is lying dejectedly in her cot, lips pulling into a thin line. “We’ll take care of Lex before he can activate the implants. I promise.”

Lena doesn’t tell her not to make promises she cannot keep. She just smiles, as frankly as she can, and lets Nia walk back down the corridor in a determined strut, Brainy following shortly after, leaving Lena behind with a pained look.

J’onn lingers. He stares directly at Lena, wordlessly for several moments, like he is staring through her soul. Lena tries very hard not to think about what she knows of Martians’ and their telepathic abilities—knowing she can’t exactly shield her own mind, instead she focuses on keeping it blank, a vast emptiness with nothing for him to find.

She can’t exactly look away—this feels like a test of sorts, and Lena has never not risen to the occasion. She’s not entirely sure she succeeds, but the silence is interminable as the tension slowly, slowly ebbs away.

Unfathomably, the Martian chuckles.

“Very good, Miss Luthor,” he says, his deep voice a rumble behind the glass of her cell. Lena cannot even begin to understand what he means.

J’onn steps closer—his eyes drift to Alex’s curled form for a moment, a glint of worry glimmering through them before they settle back on Lena. “You are more prepared for this than you think, Lena.”

The statement shocks her, enough for Lena to let her guard down for a moment. Her fist—which was clenching tightly at her side—suddenly relaxes, and it is as if the movement releases a ball of pent-up energy she has been carrying ever since her heated argument with Nia.

“Excuse me?” she says, her disbelief and confusion plain in her expression. She’s stuck in a cell, with an incapacitated Alex Danvers in the cell beside her to boot. They’re essentially sitting ducks for Lex.

“You are not as vulnerable as you think you are,” J’onn continues, as if he had read her… wait. He smiles, following her realization with something akin to amusement.

“I have a mind-control device in my head,” she says matter-of-factly, eyes narrowing. “I’d say that’s pretty vulnerable, especially now that I’m being left stranded here with no recourse.”

“Lena. You know. And knowing is half the battle,” J’onn murmurs cryptically.

Lena’s good fist clenches again, her aggravation evident. “I can’t win half a battle,” she hisses.

J’onn shakes his head, like he’s discussing something with a child who can’t comprehend a fairly simple concept—it only serves to irk her further. “Lena. You know about the implant.”

“Yes!” She half-yells. “I know about the implant, I know how it works, I even know how Lex put it in my head! But I also know there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me, J’onn, what good is knowing all of this if I can’t use it??

J’onn regards her pensively for a moment—that hint of amusement that glimmered in his eyes is gone; however, it looks as if it has been replaced with something else entirely.

He looks impressed.

“Lena,” he says, and his voice is… encouraging? Optimistic? “You said it yourself. You know you have a mind-control device in your head. You are aware Lex will use it at any point. And thus, if you are aware…” he trails off, taking a step back and eyeing Lena knowingly.

Lena feels her jaw slackening, her fist unclenching. The hand encased in her cast throbs mildly, just enough to remind her of how she stopped what Lex had triggered. She thinks of his words, thinks about the blinding shock that seized her psyche when he did it, of how it pulsed inside her skull, white-hot and agonizing.

She thinks of how she expects it to happen, literally any minute now, how Lex’s words seem to have been swirling in her head ever since he used them against her.

Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.

The Martian’s smile returns as he follows Lena’s train of thought.

“You know, Lena,” he repeats, beginning to walk away. “That means you are prepared.”

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#nara's word vomit #LBitR #supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #fic writing #femslash #I ACCIDENTALLY MADE THIS LONGER WHOOPSIE #SORRY #but we are close to done I promise #I just could not resist A Little More #and also #brain cannot just pick One Lane and Stick With It

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sugako · 3 years

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alfajores y mentiras

timeskip!oikawa x reader

sum: after faking dating oikawa for a few months things start to heat up between the two of you and come to a head one night

cw: 18+ minors dni, nsfw, smut, fluff, alcohol use (no one is drunk tho), mirror sex, spanking, oral (female receiving), face sitting, fingering, slight edging, size kink (implied), semi-rough sex, creampie, ‘princess’ nickname again

wc: 3.3k

a/n: part 2/2, this is mostly smut idek how it got this long but pls enjoy!! (part 1 if you want the intro)

Three months passed and being Tōru Oikawa’s fake girlfriend was just part of your life. You went to most of his games, you ate lunch and dinner together when both of your schedules allowed, and he gave you obnoxious kisses on the cheek and forehead whenever he possibly could. Each time his lips skirted a little closer to yours or his touches lingered longer and longer, but you pretended to not notice. It was nice in a way, all the emotional benefits of a relationship without actually being in one. But at the end of the night you were always alone in your bed, a wall away from him.

Any complicated thoughts you currently had about the arrangement were drowned out by booming music and the light buzz in your system from the drinks. To celebrate a new brand deal the team was partying in a club far fancier than any you had been to. Oikawa had personally chosen the tight blush mini dress you were wearily adjusting yet again. Leaning heavily against the high table, you watched as he sauntered back.

“A water, for my princess.” He set the glass in front of you and pressed a short kiss to the crown of your head. “And another drink for me.”

“Thank you, Tōru.” You hummed. The nickname had grown on you. It certainly hadn’t helped that he had started to call you it even when you were out of earshot of others.

He sipped his drink, but didn’t take his eyes off of you. Impossible to escape his intense stare, you finally met his gaze.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“You look really good tonight.” He said lowly while leaning into you. When his hot breath hit your cheek you couldn’t help but shiver.

“T-thanks, so do you. I mean, you picked out this dress, so thank you.”

With his roughened fingers, he tilted your head up.

“Can I kiss you, princess?” His normally whiney tone was low and huffy now.

“You kiss me all the time.” You giggled nervously and tapped your cheek. Pursing his lips, he took your hands into his and leaned in so his breath fanned across your face.

“I want to really kiss you.”

Gulping hard, you made no motion to move. “You’re just drunk.” You knew that was a lie. He had barely drank all night and the barely touched drink on the table beside you was only his second.

“I’m not.” His thumbs massaged the back of your hands, sending you into a confused spiral. If you really kissed him than this entire fake relationship would feel like a real relationship and you knew he didn’t want that. You wanted… well, you weren’t sure what you wanted in the long run, but right now you didn’t mind being kissed by Tōru Oikawa.

“Okay, uh, yeah, go ahead then.” You stammered out.

With your soft ‘go ahead’ his lips were attached to yours. You had expected his touch to be rough and lust-filled, but instead he was kind and passionate. Any concerned you had about the nature of your feelings were pushed aside when his hands slinked lowly around your hips. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting hard.

“It’s late. I wanna go home.” He gulped down a little of his drink and grabbed your purse, practically dragging you out of the club. If anyone noticed your quick departure, they didn’t say anything. In seconds he had hailed a cab and you were on your way back to your apartment.

He was uncharacteristically silent, obviously deep in thought, but his hand closest to you kneaded deeply in the soft flesh of your bare thigh. Attempting to keep from squirming, you clutched onto your seatbelt as though it would keep you grounded. As soon as the cab stopped and you had paid and tipped the kind driver, Oikawa was dragging you away. His hand was still clamped tightly over yours when you stepped into the elevator together.

You couldn’t begin to wonder what was going on in his head, but you had other thoughts on your mind.

“Tōru?” You asked quietly as the machine whirred and began quickly moving up the levels.

“Hm?” He finally looked at you, eyes hungry and sparkling.

“Can we kiss again?”

He responded by clutching you around the waist and meeting you with another deep kiss. You felt his hot tongue poke just past your lips, demanding entrance. Without hesitation, you offered it to him, moaning as he pulled you impossibly closer. Only when the elevator dings that you’re on your floor do you separate again. As you step out into your hallway, he speaks at last.

“Come over.” He says, already dragging you toward his door. You hum in agreement.

If you really wanted to, you could tear your hand out of his or speak up. But you don’t. When he gets the door open, he shoves you through and slams it behind him, backing you up against it. Your small purse drops from your hands onto the floor as you leaf your fingers through his soft brown hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” His mouth latches onto your neck and you cry out. “And tonight in this fucking dress.” Large hands snake down from the sides of your ribcage to the hem of the dress. “I just… fuck, I want to keep doing this with you, but I…”

His head slumps toward the floor, eyes downcast. You reach out and cradle his face in your hands to force him to look at you.

“You what, Tōru?” The look of concern on your face in genuine as he looks as though he may cry any second.

“I want to keep acting like you’re my girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s acting if I actually like you.” He paused to take a breath. “We’ve been friends for a little while and I’ve always thought you were cute and I really like spending time with you, but now… I couldn’t imagine ending this.” Oikawa’s pale cheeks flushed as he awaited your answer.

“Me either.” You whispered, wholly unable to contain your grin. He brought you into a bone crushing embrace, sighing deeply against your shoulder.

The moment, while awfully sweet, was stung by your overwhelming need to keep touching him. Your hands freely roamed up and down his back, eliciting a small, breathy moan from him. He lifted his head off your shoulder to capture your lips yet again. You tugged away at his jacket, which he quickly discard on the floor. His hands squeezed into your ass before he crouched just enough to wrap both hands around your thighs.

“Jump, princess.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. With your arms wrapped around his shoulders and legs around his torso, Oikawa hoisted you up. The stretchy fabric of your dress hiked up to reveal your scant white, lacey thong. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the sight. You kept sloppily kissing what little exposed skin you could above the collar of his dress shirt.

Before moving he kicked off his shoes and helped you take off your own with one hand. When his hand came back up to cup your ass, he moved just a little too sharply, accidentally smacking you. A jagged moan forced its way out of your throat before you could think about what you were doing. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He let out a short, wicked laugh.

“Very interesting…” he mused, beginning to walk toward his bedroom. After nudging open the door with one hand he brought it down on your bare ass hard. The sharp sting went straight to your pussy. This time, you tried to silence your much louder cry against his shoulder. “Whoopsie, my bad.” He snickered and turned on a soft lamp in the corner of the room.

His arms dropped you onto his low bed and he immediately began undressing. You glanced around the clean and fairly barren room, trying to figure out why it felt so large even though it wasn’t. At last the answer was right in front of you when you met your own face in the wall mirror that spanned over his sliding closet beside the bed. His devilish eyes met yours in the mirror when he had freed himself everything except his boxer briefs.

Your mouth drooled at the thick outline that pressed against the soft black fabric. Finally, you tore your eyes away from the mirror to really look at him. Unable to wait for him, you tore the dress off over your head as the bed dipped beside you. Not having worn a bra, since it wasn’t needed with the dress, left you only in your soaked panties.

Oikawa barely admired your body before latching onto one of your breasts. His tongue circled your hardening nipple while he eagerly sucked and nipped at your sensitive skin. With one free hand he toyed with the opposite breast. The other hand smoothed up and down the skin on the inside of your thighs, just barely brushing against your clothed mound. The thong left little up to the imagination and barely covered you, but that wasn’t a concern you had right now.

Just as his long fingers finally cupped your damp sex, he popped himself off your chest to press a wet kiss against your lips.

“So wet already, princess.” He said with a grin. You whimpered as he tugged the lace of your panties and the rough fabric brought needed friction against your clit. “And so sensitive too.” He cooed down to you. “Has anyone touched this little pussy since we started going out? Hmm?” His thumb pressed down hard just above your clit, the sensation driving a sharp cry from you.

“N-no,” you breathlessly sputtered out, “No one.” You gasp when you hear the soft squelching noise from how he’s kneading your cunt.

“I bet you could cum just from this, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” your whine is lewd. It’s almost infuriating to agree with him, but you do anyway, too swept up in the feeling. The soaked fabric and his fingers work in a steady rhythm against you. The sparks build up in your stomach, tightening that familiar coil. Your squirming under his every hot touch, hips bucking up to meet his motions. Just as you feel yourself nearing the edge, he pulls away and yanks you up with him. He yanks the flimsy fabric off of you and tosses it onto the ground.

He kisses away the disappointed look on your face. “I’ll make you cum in your panties another day, baby, I promise. C’mere,” He leans back horizontal on the bed, “Don’t be shy now.”

Confused and heart racing, you do what you expect him to want and reach out to palm his cock. The angry red tip is peeking out just under the band, leaking a bead of precum onto his toned lower abdomen. When he laughs, you yank your hand away in shame, worried to ask what you did that was so funny.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I meant come here and sit on my face.” He says slowly so you can hear every word.

“Oh, I, uh… yeah, okay.” The words barely make it past your flustered lips as you crawl up his body. He helps adjust you over his broad shoulders, fingertips digging into your hips as he lowers you down. Only when you relax and look up do you realize you’re facing yourself again. From his position on the bed, Oikawa, rolls his eyes back just enough to watch you when he takes his first lick.

“Watch me make you cum.” He says quietly, the little hums from his voice vibrating into you. When he feels your body tense again, he slaps your ass just enough to jolt your clit against the tip of his nose. You twitch under the sensation, having been so close to release just moments ago.

Your eyes are locked to where his tongue is endlessly lapping up your slick. The transfixing image forcing your hips to twitch and buck against him every so often. He encourages every soft whimper and moan you make with a deep, vibrating grumble between your thighs. When his tongue forces its way into your drooling hole you actually cry out, hands crashing against the top of his head to tug at his soft hair.

His sweet, wide brown eyes meet yours clouded by lust. Your thighs are shaking around his head by the time he’s done fucking you with his tongue, but before you can relax he’s attaching himself to your pulsing clit.

“Tōru, gonna, hnngh… gonna cum.” Your voice is hoarse and ragged as you’re watching all of your own movements in the spotless mirror.

It doesn’t take much to set you over the edge. You can’t really tell what he’s doing, all you feel is pleasure as that tight coil snaps and your thighs clamp down on either side of his head. His sturdy hands keep you upright as your hips thrash against him. You can feel the hot wet drip of your own cum sliding down your thigh as he messily laps you up, easing you through the shattering orgasm.

When you settle at last, he scoots out from under you and holds you in his arm, still facing the mirror. He shifts you into his lap, spreading your legs apart with his own. You watch as your soaked cunt continues to clench around nothing. One of his hands holds you upright against him while the other caresses through your folds. He easily slips one finger into your hole, sighing happily as he lightly rests his chin on your shoulder to watch.

“Look at yourself, princess. Such a pretty little pussy and it sucks my fingers in so well.” He added a second, long finger and scissored them inside of you. It should have been more embarrassing, but your eyes remained locked exactly where his fingers were pumping and curling into you.

“Want you.” You huffed, trying to catch your breath. His cock was pressed just against the lowest part of your back and you could feel that he craved you too.

“You can have me soon, I’m just making sure you can take me.” He punctuated his words with a particularly wide sweep of his fingers that made you crumble against him.

“I-I can take you.” You argued. Happy with how you had relaxed around his fingers and not wanting to wait a minute longer, he popped his fingers out of your tight hole. He displayed his drenched hand for you. When he separated his fingers they remained obscenely connected by your thick cum.

“You’re so cute.” His voice almost sounded casual as he nuzzled into your neck. Frustrated with the wait, you literally took matters into your own hands, taking his slick-cover hand into yours and sucking off his fingers. Your hips rutted back into his cock, hard. Oikawa shuddered against you with a broken gasp. “And a tease.”

He ripped his hand from your mouth and threw you to lay normally on the bed. In seconds, he was looming over you again, pressing soft, cuddly kisses against your lips. Your grabbing hands found his waistband and tugged down until his cock was free. It slapped against your tummy while he shuffled to pull the underwear off the rest of the way.

You pulled him in for a deep kiss, desperately trying to lift your hips up to meet his. The thick length of his cock brushed against your slit with every slight movement of his hip. You realized he had been right to prep you so much. He was large. It shouldn’t have been surprising considering he was a taller guy, but you hadn’t expected such girth and length.

“Want me to fuck you?” He whispered when you pulled away from one another.

“Yes, please, please.”

His classic grinning smirk was back as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“No need to beg, princess.” He eased the tip in, grunting as he tried to move slowly. “You’re so tight even after all my hard work.” His overly whiney tone is enough to somewhat snap you out of your lovey lust-clouded haze.

“You didn’t work that hard.” You try to scoff, but it turns into a choke when he slips a couple more inches in, stopping just at the thickest point of his shaft. You whine and quiver below him, gripping onto his muscles shoulders to keep grounded. The stretch burns delicious inside of you and you can’t wait until you can take him all the way.

“What was that?” He hums. Part of you wants so badly to just submit and take back what you said, but another more devious part decides to push back.

“If you worked so hard then it shouldn’t be so hard for you to fuck me.” Your softer tone betrays the playfully biting words, but it’s enough to make him nearly bottom out in you.

“It wouldn’t be hard for me to fuck you. I’m just letting your tight pussy get used to this big cock.”

You can’t help as you flutter around his length at the words. The slight movement is enough to suck him in the rest of the way. You loudly moan into his ear when his tight balls lightly tap against your ass.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you sigh, trying to relax around him. As much as you want him to fuck you hard right there, you know you have to wait.

“Tell me when you’re ready, baby.” He hums, watching as your eyebrows knit in frustration. Taking one arm that’s propping him up over your frame, he reaches down to press at your clit, hoping to offer some distraction while you’re being molded to his shape.

You were struggling to focus on anything other than his cock splitting you. His nimble fingers brushing warmly against your clit was just enough to lull you into comfort.

“Ready.” You puffed out.

“Y-yeah?” Oikawa moaned as he slowly pulled himself almost all the way out of before evenly sliding back in. He continued on like this, going slow and deep inside of you until you were clawing at his back and demanding more.

“Please, harder.”

Your plead is immediately heard by Oikawa who kisses you softly on the temple. “Of course, princess.” His tone is gentle in comparison to his hips that immediately snap into you. The force is almost startling and his speed matches it.

His stamina seems endless as he ruts into you like he’s feral. Your body is burning with pleasure, so pleased to be filled up with him, you almost don’t notice when his fingers start to toy with your clit again. He’s panting little huffs into your ear, whispering sweet praises and nothings. His honeyed words only encourage you to cum faster.

You legs wrap around his middle, forcing his hips in closer, as you cry out beneat him. It’s too much, convulsing around his thick cock. Your cunt sporadically clamps around him, desperately trying to keep him in place as he fucks you through it. Fucked out, you limply hang onto him. Your head lolls to the side to simply watch the two of you in the mirror once again, lips parted as you gasped for air.

“Mmh, good girl.” He kisses you sloppily, grinning as he notices you watching yourself get fucked into the mattress. His words make your pulsing center flutter around him again and you feel his perfect thrusts start to get a little sloppy.

“You gonna cum?” You slur out, rubbing small circles into the muscles of his back. “You wanna cum in me?”

“Y-yeah, gonna cum in that perfect tight little pussy, princess.” He chokes out, hips stuttering. He sheaths himself all the way inside of you, shallowly pumping as his cum shoots inside of you. You’re holding him close, sighing into his skin at the way his hot cum fills you up. He catches your mouth in a sweet, but messy kiss as the last of his seed spurts into you.

“We should’ve started actually dating a long time ago.”

#oikawa x reader #toru oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #hq smut #oikawa smut #toru oikawa smut #oikawa toru smut

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musclesandhammering · 3 years

Text

Non-Controversial Loki Headcanons for These Trying Times

1.) Loki has had dozens of Midgard-based aliases over the years, for no other reason than the fact that he was bored and it was funny. DB Cooper was one of them. Hank Williams was another. He may or may not have even pretended to be a vampire at some point.

2.) Loki can definitely sing. Not just in a funny ironic way, but like.. he actually enjoys singing. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise considering he’s such a fine arts nerd, but yeah. He plays the guitar too. Surprisingly folksy.

3.) Loki’s rooms in Asgard literally look like a witch’s lair. I mean straight up spooky. All dark earth tones, spellbooks strewn everywhere, runes drawn on the walls to keep certain big brothers from messing with things they have no business messing with, vials of poisonous stuff sitting on every available surface, shelves full of strange little trinkets and talismans, a dramatic ass medieval-looking bed, a whole ass cauldron… and then in the corner on a stand there’s his Hank Williams Guitar aasdfghhjkl-

4.) When people call Loki a witch, they’re not joking. He’s. Like. An actual stereotypical, like.. witch. He doesn’t just do finger wavy magic- he mixes potions, he does rune work, he recites spells, he has a cauldron.

5.) He also used to dress super witchy. Used to. Past tense. I’m talking black nail polish, lots of necklaces, rings, eyes makeup (ok maybe I wouldn’t go that far, but Loki in eyeliner would be pretty hot, right?), clothes that were like.. 15% scarier yet more fashionable than the ones he wears in canon. The only reason he toned it down was because someone whose opinion he cared about (it was Thor) made a joking comment about his appearance looking “wicked” or “evil” and it made him feel self conscious, so he changed how he dressed. :(

6.) He was rocking the whole short hair look years before Thor in Ragnarok. In fact, by pre-canon Loki’s standards, his hair in Thor 1 was even a bit too long. He did this because a.) he hates how his natural curls soften him and will do anything to get rid of them and b.) in Asgard short hair wasn’t really worn by noblemen because it symbolised servitude, so this was Loki’s subtle way of being defiant and deviating from the norm.

7.) As Frigga said in Endgame, Loki is very good at sneaking. Even when he’s not trying to. There have been many-an-accident in the Palace of Asgard because he unintentionally almost gave Thor a heart attack.

8.) Loki and Thor weren’t always at each other’s throats. They actually got along pretty well up until Odin started planning for the coronation. Loki was still jealous of the way Thor was treated compared to the way he was treated, but he knew that wasn’t Thor’s fault- not really. And Thor was still arrogant and entitled, but that was mostly directed at other people and not his own family, so while Loki knew about Thor’s character flaws, it didn’t really effect him personally. When the planning started, though, Thor gradually became even more superior and insufferable than normal, and Loki became even more bitter and unsettled, and their relationship just kind of went downhill from there.

9.) Loki absolutely joined the Mile High Club with that flight attendant from the first episode of the show. Her name was Florence and she was adorable, Loki thought so too.

10.) Loki’s the only person on Asgard who can beat Volstagg at an eating competition. He has a giant’s metabolism, after all. And, contrary to his elegant and refined tastes in most other areas, he’s actually a straight-up carnivore. I mean he eats other foods too, obviously, but meats are by far his favourites. Boar, fish, poultry, steak. Just meats. He doesn’t know it, but this is because frost giants are mostly carnivorous.

11.) His relationship with the Warriors 4 was always split down the middle. He and Sif always hated each other. Hogun never trusted him and Loki never had any interest in spending time with Hogun. Fandral and Volstagg, on the other hand, were always much nicer and Loki always sort of considered them his friends as well as Thor’s. This is why they were more reluctant to believe that he’d let the frost giants in in Thor 1.

12.) I refuse to believe Loki doesn’t have at least one tattoo somewhere. Probably more. Probably of a snake. The only parts of his body we didn’t see naked in Episode 1 were his thighs, lower back, knee area, pelvic region, and the back of his neck. So it’s gotta be in one of those places. (Might I suggest: snake thigh tattoo, tiny nape tat, goth tramp stamp lol, rune tat behind his ear, Norse mythos leg tat, badass above-dick tattoo).

13.) Loki’s prickly and insecure and has layers like an onion, but once you get to the point of actually being friends with him, he’s a total sweetheart. I mean a literal smol dork. A bit hyperactive and excitable, but still very very soft. It’s because he’s had so few actual friends in his life.

14.) Sometimes Loki only goes a few days before his gender changes, sometimes he stays one gender for years at a time. And he tends to shapeshift his body to match. That being said, one of his biggest pet peeves is how his other-gendered clothes get all dusty and musty when they have to stay in the closet for long stretches of time. So he’s taken to wearing luxurious gowns around the house when he’s in his male form. You know, just to air them out.

15.) Loki hates sleeping with people. Sex is fine, but he’s just so solitary and paranoid that he’s never been comfortable sleeping in a bed with another person. This may or may not have gotten him in trouble a few times when his partners woke up and found him gone lol.

16.) Laufey is actually incredibly similar to Loki, the way Odin is very similar to Thor. He prefers smaller blades (ice daggers), he’s very analytical and calculating, he’s very calm and non-confrontational even when he’s in a stressful situation, and tbh he seems like a better king than Odin- much like Loki probably would’ve been a better kind than Thor. (Whoopsie this one’s a bit controversial)

17.) Loki adores animals! …But he’s also a bit obsessive about keeping his environment clean. Not organised, per se, just clean. And animals tend to be hairy and slobbery and feathery and slimy and poopy and dirty, so he’s never been able to have a pet. He just takes a lot of nature walks to compensate :)

18.) All jotuns are naturally intersex, including Loki. This is a bit unusual for Asgardians, but because Loki is genderfluid and a natural-born shapeshifter- and has always had a tendency to change his body parts around as his gender changes (male, female, both, neither)- he’s never had a reason to find it very odd. In hindsight, that was one of the many eccentricities that should have made him realise something was a little fishy with his “asgardian” genetics.

19.) The snake + stabbing story from Ragnarok was nowhere near as nefarious as Thor made it seem. What actually happened was: Someone accidentally mixed a real knife in with the blunted practice knives. Thor and Loki didn’t know this, of course, and when they were playing a battle game, Loki ended up with the real knife. When Loki “won” and went to “vanquish his enemy” he ended up actually stabbing Thor for real. They were both hysterical and it took longer to calm Loki down than his brother. It ended up just being a flesh wound, though, so everything turned out fine.

20.) A lot of people think Loki discovered his “secret passageways between worlds” from TDW through some sort of inter-realm questing or magical study or something, but in reality, he discovered them when he was like 16 and desperately trying to find a way to sneak out of Asgard without Heimdall telling his parents.

Tagging @natures-marvel & @little-s-creampuff for expressing interest. Thx for listening to my mad ravings lmao <3

#I have so many more of these it’s unreal #my musings #loki headcanons #loki laufeyson #frosty bby #long post #loki series #Thor ragnarok #thor the dark world #thor 2011 #Thor #language tw

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hiatus-for-forever · 4 years

Text

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader Soulmate AU

Summary: You want to start a business early revolving around your quirk but it leads you to find a rare case in your new school

Quirk: Red Strings. You are able to see the red strings that connect each person to their soulmate by a red string on each of their pinkies. This quirk is received by the oldest daughter in the family once they turn 4 (the parent still has it even when the child does). Sons can also have it but as a secondary quirk, it immediately gets passed down to the daughter and leaves the son with one quirk. You are able to cut it and/or tie it to yourself or other people at the cost of one year of your life for each alteration.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, cursing

WC: 1,725

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You still remember when you got your quirk. The day you turned four you saw the bright red strings appear, connecting everyone to each other. Some had strings that were long and crossed the streets and went around buildings, and some had their stings attached to the person next to them. They were on the floor for most of the time, occasionally stretched when two people had a strain on their relationship. They never broke though, always connected and paired by the universe, whoever it may be who controls it. They got longer when people are far from each other, and shorter when they were close.

You saw sometimes the people who were connected, passing by each other without a second thought, strangers who rarely looked back at each other as the strange feeling overcame them. You were always happy when you saw two soulmates holding hands, and felt sorry for those who passed by their soulmate with a significant other in their arms. Some people even has two strings and you thought that was so cool.

You liked to follow the strings when they were going in the same direction as you, and eventually got used to seeing them around not paying mind unless it was a short glance at two loving soulmates.

Your mom and you were the only ones who could see and interact with them, your grandma dying before you were born with not many stories left behind. She would step on them while you avoided doing so, until she said it was fine. You still didn’t like to walk over them, only the accidental step sometimes but you mostly subtly avoided them. You remember that one time you tripped on a string and those few times you had to duck or go around strained ones.

Then came when you looked at your pinkie, no bright red sting there. When you asked your mom why you didn’t have one she told you she didn’t have one at first either. She did though, you mentioned, and she said that she cut your dad’s string and tied it to her. You gasped and asked her why and she said that your dad asked for it, his original soulmate was “probably really far away anyway”. She said there was some guilt of course but 20 years of going strong it had melted away.

She even told you of a story of someone who was bitter of not having a string, she cut every string in her path and ended up dying early, passing the quirk to her first niece.

“Do you help your friends find their soulmates!?” you beamed, she smiled but shook her head.

“I can’t, I don’t have the time to with all my work. Plus, you don’t even know if they want to know. They could be happily married or something“ she said. She was right, but you wanted to lead people to their soulmates! But you couldn’t do that under the circumstances you mom had just helped you realized.

Then the thought hit you, it could be your job! You could help people and make money all at the same time and it would be the best job ever! That thought was what started your continuous studying to get into a good school, and getting into that school. To be honest you’ve never been as driven about something as much as this.

So here you were now, at the doorway of UA.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got stares from everyone as you confidently stepped into the building, then immediately jumping and tiptoeing about in the hallways avoiding the red strings you would soon shorten. Word had already gotten around after you explained to one person why you were walking funny.

Days later you were already getting requests but you would just turn them down. Maybe just pointing to where they headed. Soon you were already making friends, especially with that one Ashido girl from the hero course who wanted so bad to find her soulmate. You wanted to tell her who it was but you couldn’t make exceptions, you guys weren’t even friends for long.

Eventually, right when the class was going into the pricing lesson, Ashido immediately jumped on you to show her where her soulmate is. So, her first initiative for today was to drag you to her table for lunch. You met the nicest people ever, the first 10 seconds that passed were great. But your pink-haired friend had already cut to the chase.

“Here, just point me to where my string leads” She said as she slid you a 500 yen coin. You took it and pointed to the kitchen, your eyes trailed from her finger to where the string led, presumably outside a window or something.

She squealed, “Okay, now do them next, they’ll pay” she said as her other friends, except Bakugou, leaned in with interest.

You chuckled and said, “Sorry I can’t. My teacher said I can’t offer services ‘til my business is official. My pricing itself isn’t complete either. I’m thinking of doing an up-front price along with a price according to how far the trip goes for them to find their soulmate. This of course will include an all expense pair trip if we ever leave the country or go on a far trip. It might be expensive for a lot of people but I really want to show them to their soulmates. I’m thinking of refunding them a portion if they cancel but if I keep doing that the business will get nowhere and no one will find their soulmate. I’m also really concerned for the people who might not have as much money so I’m thinking that the prices shouldn’t be that high. Hmm, maybe I should-”

“Geez, Y/N calm down. You’re starting to sound like Midoriya there with all your rambling” Ashido interrupted, “But I get it, you don’t have to. Dang the business course is though”

“Not as tough as the hero course though. At least then you’ll be hella rich and I can help all of you find your soulmates”

“Great!” She chirped.

They all went back to their food, and out of curiosity you looked at their hands. seeing the red string on either the left or right pinkie. But one caught your eye. There was a set of hands, no red string on neither the left nor the right pinkie. You looked up at who it belonged and were met with glaring red ruby eyes. You got a good look at him, his spiky ash blonde hair. He was pretty attractive, sad he doesn’t have a soulmate though. His glare seemed to get sharper and so you had to stuff your face in your bowl if you didn’t want trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~

Whoopsie, how’d you get into this situation? Backed up into the wall of an alleyway by this beautiful blonde. This blonde is of course mad and glaring at you like you stepped on his dog.

You did, however, find out who this man was. Bakugou Katsuki. From the sludge incident. Got the highest score in the practical entrance exam. He also got chained to a block of cement when he won gold at the sport’s festival that you couldn’t attend, not wanting to watch the strings get trampled by your doing the task given. As well as getting kidnapped by the League of Villains during the hero course’s camping trip.

You don’t know why you didn’t recognize him, not really paying attention to what all others do. But now you truly felt sorry for the guy, going through all that, probably blaming himself for All Might’s retirement, and not having someone to call his own. You don’t have to date your soulmate, and sometimes soulmate relationships fail, but it’s hard when they’re the perfect fit for you.

This man didn’t have a perfect fit. I mean, neither did you but you were fine with making people happy, and you haven’t endured half this man has.

“Let me ask you this once, why were you looking at me funny?” he gruffly demanded answers

“You sure you wanna know?” you asked nervously

“SPIT IT OUT WOMAN” he slammed his fist next to your head

“You don’t have a soulmate!” you said out of impulse

His eyes widened and his angry demeanor went away, “What?” he mumbled

“You don’t have a string” you clarified

“Well I don’t fucking need one, “ he puffed his chest out, “soulmates are bullshit anyway, don’t wanna have to trust someone like that, they’ll just become a weak spot”

“Well you wouldn’t think that when you tip over and self destruct in anger at yourself for stuff that’s not you fault” you commented as he neared you dangerously

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about”

You sighed as your lips pressed to a thin line, “Maybe I don’t, but no one will if you keep it to yourself”

“I’m fine with that”

“Sure”

He must still be in shock, you just know he’ll add it to the baggage sooner or later. You had to do something about this, he doesn’t deserve it, before he could walk away you called out, “If it makes you feel better I don’t have one either, most people with my quirk don’t have any either”

“Why would that make me feel better?”

“I can cut some string and tie it to you if you want, can’t force a good relationship though”

“No, I don’t want anyone else’s partner”

“Fine then,” you pondered, how could you help this guy out?

“Lunch. Tomorrow” he stated and left

“Huh? Okay I guess” you said hesitantly. At least it was something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rubbed your arm nervously. It was a Saturday and you had asked Mina for his number, where he confirmed to meet outside your dorm. No one really cared that a hero course student was coming over, instead everyone used this time to do work on each of their own businesses.

You sat at the small table set up in front of the entrance, it was circular and had a small vase of flowers at the center. You then heard a grunt and footsteps getting louder. You turned and saw Bakugou grumbling to himself as he made his way to you.

He plopped down on the seat next to you and before the awkward silence could commence he spoke up, “Why the fuck do you want to help me?”

You chuckled, a smile had danced on your lips, “Right to the chase, huh?”

His glare just hardened.

You felt your hands get clammy, “Heh, well, it is my future job. I want to make people happy”

“So you’ll just change peoples soulmates if someone pays you? Seems pretty shitty”

You gasped, feigning exaggerated offense, “I do not! For each alteration to strings I lose a year of my lifespan,” you explained

“So you’re willing to lose two years of your life to get me a soulmate?”

You nodded

“Why?”

You sighed, you contemplated whether to take his hand in yours sympathetically but decided against it, instead opting to lean forward and lower your voice, “You’ve been through a lot more than most people should at your age, I just think you would be good with someone who will fully understand you. But, now that I think about it that may be difficult so that’s why...” you trailed off

You realized how no one will fully understand him, he’s a really complex person from what you picked up. You let out a small ‘Huh’ when the thought came to you.

You looked up when you heard him sigh, he mumbled something under his breath along the lines of ‘I cant believe I’m doing this’

“Look, you can’t just take someone else’s soulmate, it won’t work out for me or that person” He then groaned, “and it’s not like you have a soulmate either so...”

You looked at him puzzled, trying to put two and two together. When you did, you had a big shit-eating smirk on your face, “What are you trying to say, Bakugou?” You asked smugly

The infamous ‘tch’ was heard when the reddening on his ears proved true to your suspicions, “Wanna go out sometime?” he begrudgingly offered

You giggled. This hotheaded blonde, known for being aggressive and somewhat the villainous type, was asking you out to a date after two conversations. One was admittedly intimate but only two conversations nonetheless

You figured, why not ply with him for a little bit?

“Hmmm... Nah, I’d rather waste two years of my life”

He growled, “Stop playing around! You’re lucky I’m even asking you out, I normally hate everyone. Plus, you can’t just connect me to some stranger!”

“We’ve had two conversations, we essentially still are strangers”

“Fucking- CALL ME KATSUKI THEN”

You froze in shock. He really was serious about this.

“...Why me?”

He relaxed, ready to give his explanation, “You’re probably the only one who gets an inkling of how I feel because of what I’ve gone through. Everyone else either holds it against me or thinks they understand me”

“Well then-”

“Alsoyou’recute”

You paused again, you saw his flushed face but it was nowhere near the steam coming from the boiling pot that was your head.

“Uh, y-you too I guess”

“Yeah I’ll see you next week, we’ll get dessert after lunch or some shit, whatever girls want to do on dates”

You scoffed at the stereotype, “Yeah, whatever you have my number,” You saved him a wink which was what made everything worth it for the sight of his face that now matched his eyes.

Part 2 cuz this ends too abrupt but its long already

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader angst #bakugou x reader fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

Text

I Pity the Grave That Tries to Keep Me From You

Bull Randleman x Reader One-shot

Summary: it’s just fluffy angst about Bull coming back from Market Garden bc I’m a soft squishy sad little tall person who is dealing with some major feels

Warnings: shitty writing (mostly cuz I don’t feel like editing WHOOPSIE), angst, fluff, rushed ending, bleh, idk man it is what it is....

Ya’ll know I listened to Hozier’s Work Song for part of this, I didn’t even try to be subtle about it.

You don’t react when Hoobler tells you about Bull.

Martin can’t look at you, but you hug him just the same.

I’m sorry he’d blurted after he returned your embrace, voice breaking painfully. I’m so fucking sorry.

But you’d just shook your head from side to side and given him the closest thing to a reassuring smile you could muster.

Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you’re here.

You weren’t sure how many times you’d said those three sentences since D-Day, but it was the only thing you could think of to say to your broken friends telling you through tearful apologies the names of the soldiers you all had loved and lost. As if it was their fault... as if they’d failed in keeping them safe for you.

Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you’re here.

Martin had let out one quiet sob against your neck before stepping back and turning and leaving. Everyone let him go.

You understood- everyone grieved differently. Your grief had to wait a bit longer- you still had things to do.

No one made to stop you when you excused yourself, Webster having the presence of mind to give you a nod when you mumbled something about checking in with Nixon.

You and Bull had always known the risk of one or both of you dying- hell, you’d even discussed the likelihood of one of you dying in front of the other. You’d mentally prepared yourself as much as you could for that inevitability.

Missing, though? Missing wasn’t sitting well with you.

Becoming an intelligence officer hadn’t been a career path you’d stumbled across by mistake- you liked information, found comfort in details and strategy.

You hated being blindsided, and since you’d been small you’d gone to great lengths to ensure you never entered a situation without being fully aware of any and all potential outcomes that could occur.

Surprises aren’t always good, my darling. Remember that.

Your mother’s words had echoed in your head the first time you’d met Bull, when he’d caught you off guard by introducing himself to you in the same manner he had introduced himself to all of the other men in Easy- with solid eye contact, a firm handshake, and a gentle drawl of “Randleman, nice to meet you.”

The idea that you wouldn’t hear his voice again, in either friendly introduction or intimate devotion, made you feel achingly hollow.

“If you think something as silly as a grave can keep me from coming home to you, you got another thing coming, Little Lady”.

“That sounds like you’re saying you’re going to haunt me, Den—”

“You should be so lucky….plus, I’d make it fun, so don’t even worry about it.”

You start to walk in earnest towards the officer’s area now, biting the insides of your cheeks in an effort not to cry.

You had to keep going.

You’d promised him you would, just as you’d made him promise in kind.

When you finally found Nixon, you instantly frowned at the bruise blossoming on his forehead.

“What happened to you?” you ask, ignoring the man’s glare and walking over to get a closer look. “Looks like you tangoed with Joe Toye’s brass knuckles and lost.”

“Got shot in the helmet.” Nix grumbles at the same time Richard perks up and squints at you while asking “Toye’s got brass knuckles?”.

You wince, both in response to Nix’s injury and your accidental snitching on Joe. “Whoops.”

Lewis’s eyes catch yours and his brow softens.

You instantly know what he’s about to bring up, and shake your head preemptively.

“Lew,” you begin with a heavy sigh, only to be shushed like a child before he spoke over you.

“They don’t know anything for sure yet.” he insisted, and you knew that he knew you saw through his bullshit.

He sometimes tried to be less pessimistic when he knew you were already way ahead of him in that department, but the two of you knew each other well enough by now for you to see it for what it was- him trying to make you feel better, coddling you to make you feel better.

Lying to make you feel better.

Information is truth, everything else is probably a lie.

Your mother was a bitter cynic, but you’d also never once known her to have her heart broken.

Maybe she’d been on to something.

“Yeah,” you’d offered, quickly brushing past him to look at the map on the table. “Maybe. Anyway, when exactly did Market Garden start going to shit? Do you think we were undermanned? Were our maps wrong? Did they have unexpected weaponry….?”

Distract the sad voice in your head offered as you threw yourself into work, using the churning pain in your belly to fuel your motivation to reclaim the town.

No one gets to hurt you and get away with it. No one gets to take Bull from you and remain unpunished.

You decided then and there that you were going to make the SS bleed for what they’d done, and you knew that if Bull were there he’d tell you to rein it in.

Got murder in your eyes, darling. What’s got you so cross?

But Bull wasn’t here. And you? You had to get over it.

It’s what he would want.

You had barely slept that night, throwing yourself into rereading all of the intelligence reports until Dick finally ordered you out of the CP tent.

At first you’d fought him on it, still too afraid of being let alone with your own thoughts. But he’d been firm, literally snatching the paperwork from your trembling hands and hovering over you until you relented.

“I don’t want to see you until morning, is that understood?”

With more patience than you deserved he’d held your coat up and helped you slip into it, making a point to pull your knit hat down over your ears before turning you in the direction of where all the soldiers were sleeping.

Even though Bull had promised to be the one to haunt you, it was you who felt like the ghost.

But, like the obedient soldier you were, you walked to the spot where you and Bull had set up camp with Perconte and Luz. Neither man happened to be there at that moment, which was a small blessing because when you saw Bull’s unattended duffel bag in the same spot he’d left it that morning you’d been unable to stop the sob that slipped past your lips.

Like a child, you’d curled around his rucksack and held it close, your fingers tracing over the airborne patches that denoted it as his.

Had it truly been this morning that you’d woken up in his embrace, groaning in sleepy protest when he refused to let you out of his arms?

“Jus’ a bit longer,” he’d mumbled, bringing a leg up and over your hip to pin you beside him. “Let the boys start fightin’ without us, we’ll catch up later…”

You wish that had been possible. You wished it could have been that simple.

Tears had leaked out of your eyes as you squeezed them shut and the next time you opened them it was morning. At some point in the night either George or Frank had tossed a wool blanket over you.

For a few glorious moments, you had thought Bull’s furnace-like chest had been what was keeping you warm. The blanket was a kindness, but an unintentionally cruel one.

After rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you’d gotten yourself ready and packed up to head out.

Bull’s duffle bag seemed to be filled with bricks as you hefted it over your shoulder with your own, and with each stride you took it only became heavier. You knew the protocol- take the deceased’s belongings to CP for redistribution and personal effects collection.

It felt like defeat, as if you were giving up on him.

Defeat and reality were seeming to become one and the same, these days.

Your throat was so tight by the time you made it to CP you were barely able to explain what you were doing to Lewis, your arm trembling as you held out the pack to him.

The moment Nix had taken it from your hands, tears began to spill from your eyes and for once you did nothing to stop them.

Nixon had been about to say something to you when Perconte rushed in breathlessly with a call of your name, almost forgetting to salute Lewis when he saw him.

“Oh! Sir. Uh, Y/N- there’s, um, something you should see—”

You glared at him, trying and failing to hide the fact that you’d been crying from your friend.

“I’m in the middle of something, Perco. Can it wait?”

In the distance you could hear the sound of truck engines, and a new anxiety began to blossom in your chest at the idea of leaving Bull behind.

“But, Y/N…” he protested, clearly tongue-tied and overexcited.

“Oh my God, what?!”

“It’s Bull!”

Your blood froze in your veins, sucking in a breath that felt too big for your body.

You could feel your heartbeat behind your eyes as your lungs screamed for more air, but your body was refusing to blink or breathe or move…..

“That’s….no. W-what’re you—?”

The sight of a truck driving toward a group of Easy and Dog soldiers came to a halt, and you swore you say a familiar glimmer of sandy curls standing at least a foot above the group.

No. There’s no fucking way….

With wide eyes you turn back to Lewis, seeing an equally confused look on his face.

You barely wait for his nod of dismissal before looking to Frank again.

“C’mon, I’ll—”

You don’t wait for him to finish, sprinting away from them with a single-minded focus on reaching the horribly familiar silhouette of the man you[d begun to mourn.

Bull Bull Bull BULL DENVER BULL!?!?

With no care for decorum or professionalism, you shove people aside and rush through the throng until you violently skid to a halt before Johnny and Hoob.

And Dever fucking Randleman.

A silent sob twists your face, vision doubling as more tears well in your eyes.

It was him. It was him.

When your eyes find his, you force yourself to take a breath.

He’s dirty and scraped and a little bloody but he’s alive and he’s here and—

You throw yourself at him, arms latching around his neck and legs locking around his hips as he catches you easily in his arms.

“Oh my God,” you whisper shakily, shaking like a leaf and clutching at him as if he were the last lifeboat in a storming sea. “Oh my GOD, Den—!”

Bull’s got one arm across your backside and the other is pressing your torso to his as if he means to fuse the two of you together, his heartbeat loud and strong and powerful against your chest as he twists his cold face into your neck and just breathes you in.

You know that Martin is trying to talk to you, that someone else is telling you to take it easy but you can barely hear them through the roaring sound of life returning to your body.

When he sighs your name you swear that you’ve never heard a sound so sweet.

As you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple, you open your eyes and blink your tears away.

Of course, once you clear your eyes, you see the mess of blood staining his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ!” you gasp, untangling yourself from him in an instant and trying to get out of his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt, you idiot?!”

Bull allows you to unwrap your legs from his waist but refuses to let you go, the arm that had been under your bottom coming up to hold the back of your head lovingly.

A pained yet playful grin breaks across his lips as he eyes you. “Oh, am I?”

You smile stupidly, sniffling at his ridiculous attempt at nonchalance.

Using his hold on the back of your neck he ducks down and presses a long, meaningful kiss to your lips. You sigh into it, and just as you cup his face in your hands someone clears their throat and you’re reminded that the two of you have an audience.

When you break apart he makes sure to wrap his good arm around your shoulders, and you wince when you catch the looks of surprise being sent your way by the replacements.

Whoops, that was certainly unprofessional….

Bill Guarnere barks a laugh as you shift uncomfortably, slinging his own bag back over his shoulder.

“Shit, if that’s the hello you give to someone who’s been MIA- I’m definitely getting lost more often!”

Martin rolls his eyes, and enough people laugh that some of the tension is broken.

You turn back to Bull and try to get him to let him show you his shoulder. But Bull has never been an easy man to physically move, especially when moving is something he doesn’t want to do.

This time is no exception.

“Let me see it,” you huff, only to have him smirk and shake his head. “Denver, I could’ve made it worse, I need to make sure—”

“Nah,” he says with a shrug he immediately regrets doing. “How about you kiss it better after Roe gets a look at it, hmm?”

As you open your mouth to reply there is a cry from above that it’s time to get moving, the reminder that there are more pressing matters to attend to shaking you from your anxious worrying.

Because it’s Bull, he hollers for his men to get on the truck as if he had been with them the whole time.

“I need to go get your stuff, our stuff from CP….”

Bull shakes his head before you’ve finished talking.

“Perco’s got it,” he says with a nod in the man’s direction. “Don’tcha buddy.”

Without waiting for a reply, Bull pulls you along with him towards the trucks, refusing to let you leave his side despite your insistence that Roe needed to take care of him.

Getting into the truck, you help unbutton his shirt so Doc can start cleaning the ragged wound on his shoulder.

Bull brings your knuckles to his lips as the truck begins to move, eyes never leaving your face as he answers Gene’s rapid-fire questions about what had happened in the time Bull had been separated from the group.

“...you lost some blood, how’d you manage not to pass out?”

With a wink in your direction Bull chuckles.

“Considered it, Doc. But then I remembered my missus here was waitn’ and thought better of it.”

You shake your head admonishingly at his explanation.

“You’re really something else, you know that Bull?”

In a move that surprised both you and the Doc, Bull used his grip on your hand to pull you so you were straddling his lap.

“Course I do, Little Lady. I’m yours.”

Well, goddamn.

“Damn right, now shut up and stop flirting.”

The smile he gave you only widened at the command.

“We’ll see, darlin’. We’ll see.”

~ ~ ~ (is it trash? Yes. But is it garbage? Also yes. Love you all and thanks for reading the feels)

taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #bull randleman x reader #denver randleman x reader #bull randleman imagines

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gyllenhaalstories · 4 years

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KINKMAS DAY 2 & 11: BLOW JOB AND PRAISE KINK WITH (frat!)TOM HOLLAND.

request: Shoot. I didn't see your Kinkmas prompt in time for BJ day. But maybe you could do this for No. 11? Frat Boy Tom seduces nerdy y/n at a Christmas party and he says she "gets" to suck him off, but first, she has to praise him, touching all his muscles and kissing his cock through his boxer briefs. He continues to demand praise as she sucks him off :)

warnings: alcohol/drinking, praising kink, hand job, blow job, curse words (mentions of christmas, but nothing religious!)

word count: 1075

gif credits: lady-birds

thank you so much for this request! i’ve never written frat!anybody before (and i accidentally fell into a 2010 kesha rabbit hole for inspiration whoopsie), so i hope this is doing the concept justice! <3

You leaned against the door frame of the kitchen, holding a red solo cup filled with orange juice and stared at the scene. The party started half an hour ago, maybe even less, but everyone was already drunk beyond belief. The cool kids from the business management faculty offered rounds and rounds of shots in between boring games of beer pong. The sports scholarship dudes were screaming and chanting. Other groups of friends just chilled on a couch or invented new cocktails on the kitchen island behind you. And your friend who dragged you there? Nowhere to be found.

You had never attended a party of this size before, so you had expectations. You heard people talk about it in the hallways, ‘the biggest event of the semester’, ‘best time to let go of the stress before the finals’, ‘all the hotties from the fraternity are gonna be there’, ‘might have a karaoke machine for Christmas songs’. The last rumour convinced you to give in your friend’s begging.

There you were: no karaoke machine in sight, only poorly arranged Christmas decorations made the evening festive. That and the scent of cinnamon pine cones. You were determined to find where it came from, it would change from the smell of cheap beer. So you left your corner and decided to explore the fraternity, promising yourself to not open any doors. You did not want to discover what happened behind them. Eventually, you climbed up the squeaky stairs and found a pretty bowl on which the pine cones were set. You found a nutcracker and some other small decorations. Someone in this fraternity cared.

“Had my eyes on you all semester.”

You jumped at the sound of the mysterious voice, dropping a glass decoration on the floor. You looked up to lock eyes with this familiar face. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the cocky grin on his lips, the messy eyebrow. Stranger from the second row in your introduction to adult psychology class. It was open for all, but he was the only student that did not come from your cohort. So, obviously he caught all the attention. He was handstome too, that probably helped his case.

“I’m Tom,” he introduced himself, hands on his hips. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

So stranger from second row had a name. And stranger from second row just confessed, or lied, about having an interest in you. You promised yourself another thing: to never attend fraternity parties ever again, weird shit happened there. You introduced yourself, darting your eyes everywhere, looking for a way to escape.

“You don’t come here often.”

“That’s very perceptive of you.” You mocked.

His jaw clenched at your words. “You wanna play it all tough and rough, huh?” He asked. It was not a question, though, it was a dare.

“I know you’ve been crushing on me all this time. Caught you staring whenever I walked into the class room.”

You wanted to comment you only stared at him because he wore golf polos all day long. Apparently, he was the most promising golfer the college ever had. You did not even know it was a title.

“I caught ya pretty mouth drooling once,” the flashbacks of that time he bent down to grab your pen that rolled away, his muscular back and ass in full action before your eyes. “You can pretend to be innocent, but I know what you really want.”

You swallowed thickly. “What is it that I want, Tom?”

He chuckled. “You gonna have to earn it for me to tell you.”

In other circumstances, you would have not given in that easily. But what was wrong? He was good looking, the interest was mutual, and he smelled of watermelon gum rather than beer and other crazy beverages. On top of that, you were bored. “I’m sorry I kept staring at you,” you started, your voice small and hesitant. “You’re just very sexy.”

He squinted, his arms clenched. “Keep going.”

“You always make the other guys in class shut up. Your commentaries are smart, that’s good, but they know they’ll never look as good as you.” He nodded, encouraging you. You could judge how narcissistic this interaction was, but you looked down at his crotch and noticed the tent rising in his pants. You were good at more things than getting straight a’s on your essays, apparently.

As your hands finally touched him, he got goosebumps. He opened the door behind you, which happened to be his room, and pushed you in. He took his shirt off, letting your hands explore his toned body. For a golfer, he certainly trained like a fitness model on Instagram.

Your finger tips tickled his abs as you moved lower.

“Been dreamin’ of touching me, yeah? Had wet dreams about me fucking you?”

You nodded with excitement, eyes wide and thighs clenching together. “Please, Tom, I need your cock so bad.”

“Prove it.”

You dropped to your knees and palmed at his buldge. He let you take his pants down, but not his boxers yet. “You’re so big Tom, bigger than I’ve dreamed of.” He moaned at your words, so you kept going. You told him about how much you’ve wanted to touch him that one time his seat was taken so he sat next to you. Your thigh brushed against his, your skin was on fire. You told him that you wished he had taken you right there and then. You told him you had come to the party hoping to finally talk to him.

All the attention and praise must have worked, because he let you slide down his underwears. His cock spring free, finally released from the fabric. The kisses you trailed on his shaft felt amazing, much more than the ones you pressed against his boxers.

“Please, Tom, please let me suck your cock.” Your tongue followed the lines of his veins before lapping at his swollen and wet tip. The fact that it all started because of some pine cones amused you.

He wanted to keep you hanging, to ear more sweet words coming out of that beautiful mouth of yours. He could not resist any longer and held himself at the base. “Good girls always get what they deserve.”

At that very moment when he hit the back of your throat, you suddenly promised yourself to never not attend those fraternity parties again.

#tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #kinkmas: completed

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vespertine-legacy · 3 years

Text

Ops shenanigans tonight:

Undermanned Dread Fortress, during which we discovered during the Nefra fight that we somehow had three healers? And we had two tanks, even though I told the raid leader that SM DF only needs one tank and a dwt?

So with only two actually dps, it took a little longer than necessary to get Nefra down, whoopsies. One of the healers swapped to dps, as did one of the tanks, since I was on Eleison and could taunt when needed.

Draxus fight got a little bit squirrelly--a couple of us had been in either HM or NiM more recently and had forgotten SM mechanics, but we made it through fairly okay.

Grob’thok also got a little messy, mostly because someone ran in too far before we pulled and started the magnet, so it wasn’t where the tank expected it to be (and the tank doesn’t usually tank DF, or tanks it with someone else leading the raid and telling them what to do).

Corrupter Zero was super quick, dude melted and also pointed the wrong way for at least one of the chest lasers.

Brontes (my beloved) went fine, with some minor confusion over what we could ignore in SM, and one rogue Finger due to being undermanned that wanted to kill us all (but we didn’t let it).

Then we did an undermanned KP, with no tank (tank didn’t want to tank anymore, and decided KP doesn’t need a tank) and one healer. So I got to skank tank it. We had three marauders in the group, so on the first mob, they accidentally pulled an additional mob, and we decided to make it a meme run. So I ran ahead and grabbed the mob at the next door and brought them back down to the group (hey, I was helping everyone fluff their numbers).

Everyone did fine on the rancor, aside from one death to Eating Too Many Ground Pounds.

We got to Jarg and Sorno. Right as I asked how we were doing this, someone did a saber throw, so I put in ops chat, “I guess that’s how we’re doing it, lol.” I managed to get (and keep!) threat on both of them (woo DoT-spread), and we burned Sorno until he jumped, then wailed on Jarg, then killed Sorno, then killed Jarg.

I died at the Machinesmith somehow? Then died twice to trash on the way to the Foreman Crusher, whoops. Managed to hold the Foreman Crusher pretty well (aside from his aggro dumps, after which I was able to get him back into position), and managed my dcds decently. Nearly got killed by a Murder Droid en route to the Fabrication Droid.

Before pull on the Droid, I put in ops chat “I’m gonna die :3.” And then I did. Twice. He hits the tank pretty hard, and skank tanks go squish. But we recovered well. Made it up to Karagga without incident.

Couldn’t get Karagga to follow me? Had threat on him, but he wouldn’t move after he dropped the first fire puddle, so stood in it a little too long, and had Too Low HP Disease when he finally did start moving, and died. And had a very long cooldown on accepting the res, because I had died like 7 times. When I was able to accept the res, I immediately got the grav bomb, but didn’t see that it was on me, so didn’t cleanse it off myself but did get threat on Karagga because he was getting stuck in the corner and everyone was on fire. So I had threat, but couldn’t move, finally shrouded, but Karagga shat fire all over me right before I could get out of the way, but my valiant sacrifice was just enough for the group to finish him off.

#november plays swtor #severed hand leadership is gonna be like ayo november why did eleison spend ALL OF HER REPAIR FUNDS ON A TUESDAY #uhhhhhh died on KP 17 times...?????#'....gkick'#also i hit one of the trash droids on the way to corrupter zero for nearly 60k?#i don't remember what move it was (and it's not in the parse log since it was a trash mob)#but holy crits batman let's do that more often

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Match up! (~˘▾˘)~

Hi again…can I get an Ikevamp match-up? I got curious on who I would end up with tbh😅😅😅

About myself…I never lose a temper, I am extremely shy and quiet, it’s extremely difficult for me to trust new people. I am around 5'9 feet tall, above shoulder length messy brown hair tied into a ponytail; I would be mistaken for a boy if I let my hair down. I wouldn’t even notice if they mistook me for a boy until someone addresses me as one😅😅😅. I look intimidating at first sight because 1.)I am silent most of the time, I look cold and aloof, I never smile, and 2.) I can be blunt without noticing + my difficulty of showing emotions would make them think I’m judging their soul *yikes…whoops?😅😅😅*. That intimidates most people and when in reality when I am the one who feels more intimidated by them. 😅😅

Once I warm up, I have this side that only my family and close friends know. I get along well with anybody; I won’t judge people for their race, beliefs, personality, religion, and all. It doesn’t exist here when I befriend them 😊. I have this weird sense of humor that can turn dark and morbid without noticing… 😅😅 I am like a child at Christmas when it comes to new art supplies, baking, and cooking new recipes; I love sharing it with my family and friends. I can compare my strength to a guy and I can carry heavy things without a problem😅… I love to play the guitar and I used to play the piano when I was younger and I missed playing it. I’m extremely rusty after not practicing for 7 years now😥. I can still read music notes, and it will take longer for me to navigate the piano if I play it. I mostly draw and paint right now tho…

I’m not a fan of wearing girly clothes, and I would rather stick to wearing good ol’ shirts, polo (long/short sleeves), pants, and hoodies style. I avoid drinking alcohol because I easily get tipsy; I’d turn into a loud drunk after a few sips. My friends would often keep me away from who knows what they’re reading and watching stuff… Told me that they don’t want me to taint my innocent eyes and soul or something like that…I never cuss even if I’m used to hearing my classmates swear like a sailor. The first time my friends hear me accidentally swear, they look at me in horror and demanded me to know where I got that word🤣🤣

I don’t like loud and crowded places, I would feel dizzy and suffocated if I stayed there for too long. There will be times on where I’m nowhere to be found since I would look for an isolated place somewhere around the corner for me to hide whenever I want to draw or paint. I am not really confident of my skills in drawing; I have a bad habit of hiding those from my family *which annoys them*. I have another bad habit of being stubborn whenever I got sick, and I wouldn’t even let anyone know I am unwell because I do not want anyone to worry about me. But when someone noticed, I would admit that I am sick. *I would go to school even when sick so I can finish my school works because, whenever I miss a class, there will always be some of them who would deliberately not tell me that I missed something in class so…i learned the hard way.😅* …

I easily get startled by sudden noises if I let my guard down: objects making a loud sound when they drop. I don’t know how to deal with physical affections and would probably get stiff and flustered. I’m not used to guys hugging me cuz would go stiff whenever a guy hugs me *I love hugs and all but… I’m not used to being hugged by guys… 🙁* I’m a bit of a disaster-prone whenever I’m outside, and would accidentally hit my head on lower tree branches and lower places, sometimes I would accidentally sprain my ankle on the uneven ground *if someone made me wear heels especially if it’s stilettos*. 😅😅😅

Yay: I love my coffee with a ridiculous amount of milk and with less sugar; baking, cooking, sweets, drawing, painting, digital art, music, cats, dogs, pokemon, Manga, anime.

Nay: I despise certain types of vegetables that are bitter and slimy. My face would shrivel up seeing those kinds of vegetables. Animal cruelty is a big no-no for me; I normally don’t get angry, and I forgive people within a blink of an eye *that annoys my family a lot😅* but, I will make an exception for that.

I can control my own anger, that no one can tell I am fuming.

If it’s ok with you…😅😅😅 Took me a long time to figure out how to send a more detailed one. 😂😂 I think that’s enough spilling tmi about myself… Whoopsie…😅😅 🦊🐱🦊🐱

Hi hi love! ❤🌻Thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun writing this up for ya and i hope you enjoy it dear! ❤🦊Also i hope you are keeping safe and well and have a super good day!🐇❤ Also sooooorrrry for taking 2 billion years with this! hehe so without further ado........... @xarexraven

So I match you with…………… Theo

The first time you met everyone, you were so quiet and reserved hiding behind Comte. They took one look at you and instantly thought, “oooh great another male guest.” You were wearing a hoodie and jeans and your hair tie keeping your hair in a ponytail, had just snapped as you walked through the door. Comte gave you a gentle push to introduce yourself, and one look at your intimidating face, had the entire household believing that they had another tsundere in their midst.

During dinner, you had hardly noticed that they all thought you were a boy. The residents all started retiring to their rooms after dessert, when Sebastian handed you a final cup of coffee, “Here you are sir.” Your eyes widened, and you started up at Sebastian in confusion, too shy to correct him/ That is when Comte who was still sitting beside you gave your head a gentle pat, “Sebastian it is quite rude to mistake our precious guest for a boy, especially one who is beautiful.” Both you and Sebastian were left blushing at the comment, that’s when Vincent, who was the only other resident still at the table, spoke up. “I have to agree with Comte, it is not nice to call someone so pretty, a boy.” The resident angel beamed up at you, while Sebastian apologised profusely, and through it all, the only thing you could think was, “man, this is awkward.”

The next morning after Comte explained the whole, everyone in this mansion is a vampire thing, you wandered around the mansion aimlessly. Well, that is until Napoleon came across you and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dining room, where a feast of sugary goodness laid wait. He told you that he had made way too many pancakes and that they needed help finishing them. No one in the mansion had seen you smile yet, but at the sight of the giant stack of sugary pancakes, you couldn’t help but beam. Vincent had spotted you and flagged you over to sit next to him. “Oi knaap, don’t go hog all the pancakes, save some of the rest of us will you,” Theo loudly exclaimed as you loaded up your plate to a stack of pancakes almost as high and his. At the sound of Theo calling you a boy, Vincent narrowed his eyes at Theo and started scolding his younger brother for being so rude. Theo stared at you in disbelief but with your hair now in a pony tail he simply shrugged and gave you a new nickname “Hondjie”. With the misunderstanding finally cleared up once and for all, you made quick work of polishing off the stack of pancakes with the three men.

After lunch Vincent gave Theo a detailed list of art supplies that he needed, and at the mention of art supplies your ears perked up. Your eyes gleamed in excitement, and your cold, aloof exterior changed to one of an excited child on Christmas morning. Your cheeks were starting to hurt, that had been a record of two smiles in one day. Although even though your smiling felt weird to you, to the three me it was the most beautiful sight. Theo took notice of your enthusiasm and in his typical indifferent voice, asked if you wanted to come along for the ride. You without a second thought nodded, you basically radiated excitement as you went upstairs to put on some shoes and get a jacket. You met Theo out in the foyer, and soon the two of you made your way to the art supply store.

Comte had told you that you were free to break the bank and buy anything and everything your heart desired, on the condition that he would be able to see your first piece of art created with the new supplies.

You were so excited at the thought of new art supplies and being able to continue your passion for art, even though you were stuck in the past, that you let your guard down a little with Theo. He asked you in his usual blunt way, why you were dressed like a boy and not wearing skirts and dresses like other women. You told him that you were most comfortable wearing pants and hoodies. The way your eyes were beaming, low key reminded him of his precious brother, and he found himself low key drawn to your pure, innocent energy.

The two of you spent hours and hours picking out the perfect supplies, you were low key shook at Theo’s knowledge about art and supplies. He actually helped you pick out the best supplies for your personal drawing and painting style. After spending hours in the art shop. The two of you made your way to the waiting carriage, when Theo spotted an ice cream store, his eyes lit up at the thought of sweets. When you saw how excited he was, you suggested that the two of you investigate the shop before heading back.

For the first time in Theo van Gogh whole existence, a woman had paid for him. He was sitting across from you in the ice cream parlour while you were happily eating away at your sugary treat, still trying to process it all. You had paid as a token of thanks for him helping you pick out the best art supplies. What shocked him even more was during argument about the bill you legit gave him a deadpan look and bluntly said that you were ganna treat him no matter what. After that comment you legit left him blushing and speechless, you truly were a strange woman.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments when you finally decided to break the ice. You curiously asked why it was that he knew so much about art, and that’s when he revealed that he was an art dealer. And so the rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about art, paintings, drawings and your mutual passion and appreciation for the trade. To say Theo was pleasantly surprised by you would be an understatement, his first impression of you was now so laughable compared to the person sitting before him. The first time he saw you, he thought you an aloof, little boy who seemed to judge him down to the very depths of his soul. Yet as he got to know you, he had come to realise that there was much more to you.

In the weeks to follow you seemed to surprise Theo more and more. The first thing that had this boy sister shook was your inhuman strength. One day as you were helping Isaac sorts out the library. The two of you had managed to fill up 2 huge boxes of junk and clutter that could be stored in the mansions attic. Isaac lifted one of the boxes and determined that it was too heavy for the both of you, so he went to call Theo or Leo who would have an easier job with doing the heavy lifting. As Theo rounded to the corner to help move the boxes, he almost rammed straight into you. “Oi hondjie, you are going to hurt yourself let me take…” As he took the box from your hands, his face started going red, and a vein in his neck started popping out. The box you had been carrying was obviously almost too heavy for him to carry, he turned around swiftly and started walking up the attic stairs. It took you no time to catch up to him carrying another heavy box of your own. At this point you could see a bead of sweat roll down his face. Theo was determined to carry this box up, there was no way he was going to be shown up by a girl, especially one that he liked. He finally made it to the top of the attic and place the box down with a huff, you had to laugh at the small blush that was still on his cheeks.

Just then out of the corner of your eye, an old piano caught your attention. Theo eyed you curiously still recovering from the blow to his ego, as you sat down on the dusty piano chair and blew the dust of the piano keys. Your fingers moved to their own accord, gliding across the keys to play a familiar song from muscle memory. Theo sat down next to you and closed his eyes to absorb the beautiful melody. As the last note echoed through the attic, Theo opened his eyes, and sapphire eyes glared down into the depths of your soul. He had honestly never in his life felt more drawn to anyone, before he could say anything your stomach gave a loud growl. It was now your turn to blush and look away in embarrassment. Theo then leads you downstairs, where he whipped you up some stroopwafels.

You tied the apron around your waist and helped Theo prepare the sugary dessert. You were so excited and happy, you loved baking and learning/exchanging new recipes. Once the two of you were done making the sweet snack, you sat down and munched on the Stroop waffles and coffee. The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about your mutual hate for bitter slimy vegetables and love for dogs as you ate the sugary snack and sipped on coffee. This actually started a tradition between the two of you, where once in a while the two of you would exchange recipes and cook your favourite dishes together.

One day as Theo joined Comte in his room for some tea, he saw a beautiful painting hanging behind Comte, it was just filled with so much emotion. “Hey, Comte, did Vincent paint that one, I haven’t seen it before.” Comte gleamed in delight and told him that you were the artist responsible for the masterpiece and that you had given it to him as a thank you gift for the art supplies. Theo was shook, he knew you loved art but to have created such a masterpiece. He stomped his way to your room and knock on your door. He could hear shuffling from the other side, he swung the door open and spotted you throwing a heap full of tissues in the dustbin and hiding the trashcan behind you. All it took was one look at your red nose, pale face and tired eyes to know that you were clearly sick. You tried to play it off and make your way past Theo to help Sebastian with lunch service, when Theo picked you up and plonked you down on your bed. The second your head hit the pillow, your tired eyes closed and you lost consciousness. You woke a few hours later to Theo sitting by your side gently stroking your hair while placing a cold washcloth on your forehead every now and then. You stubbornly tried to convince him that you weren’t sick. Theo narrowed his eyes at you and in a soft, gentle tone said, “Hondjie can you just stop being stubborn for one minute and let me take care of you.” Theo had nursed you back to full health and you got to see a new side of Theo that you had never seen before, his sweet kind gentle side. It was actually during this time when Theo had confessed his undying love for you.

Theo love love loved your art and would insist you show him your masterpieces once you are done with them. He knew your weren't confident in your skills and would usually hide your drawings so he did what any reasonable person would do. He tickled you until you gave up the hiding spot so he could see your creation.

He also knows you don’t like crowded places or loud noises, so he actually cleared up a room for you to use as your own art room to work in peace, where no one was allowed to disturb you.

He knew you would get dizzy and feel suffocated whenever the two of you would walk through a busy crowd in the markets. So now every time the two of you cuties go out, he was sure to plan your route using back roads to avoid unnecessary crowds or he would bring King along for a walk with you. Even though King is a sweet, friendly golden retriever, he has come to love you and will do whatever it takes to protect the new member of his pack. Even if that means angry staring down people so they can part like the red sea before you and Theo.

Theo absolutely loves you to the moon and back. He loves your sweet innocent mind and will always cover your ears and glare daggers at Arthur whenever he is telling stories of previous nights conquests as he “doesn’t want Arthur to taint your innocent mind and soul.”

He absolutely loves to finally have someone around who gets his dark, morbid sense of humour and who can equally match his weird jokes. Often when the two of you are together, you would be quick-firing the weirdest jokes at each other, while being in stitches laughing at each other.

Theo also loves how you have similar beliefs as him in not judging people. It was due to this that he was completely able to open up about his past with you. You helped him to heal and grow from his past traumas. You helped catch him many a time before falling in the abyss, dragging him out back into the light.

Both of you were pretty awkward when it came to physical affection at the beginning of your relationship. However, after many, a stiff, awkward hug followed by a fit of laughter from how awkward the two of you were, eventually the two of you started to get more comfortable around each other.

Now when Theo cuddles you, as you draw him as a manga character, the two of you chuckle at the memory of how stiff and awkward it was the first time the two of you had even held hands. Theo will 100% always insist on holding your hand whenever the two of you go outside as he knows just how accident-prone you are when it comes to nature.

Ultimately Theo loves to spend quiet evenings with you snuggled up in his arms as the two of you exchange stories of each other days. He loves to read all your little manga’s you manage to create for him. Although he will never admit it, he always gets super excited when you tell him about an anime you watched or show him your newest manga drawing. He will shower you with endless amounts of hugs and cuddles from the moment you go to bed till the moment you wake up. And every morning without fail Theo will greet you with a freshly bred cup of milky coffee and a kiss.

Other potential matches…………… Vincent

I hope you enjoyed this dear and i hope you have the best day! 🦊🌻❤

#matchups #ikesen matchup #match ups #ikevamp matchup #ikevamp match up #theo ikevamp #ikevamp theodorus #Theodorus van Gogh #ikemen vampire theodorus #submission

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corruptedconfessions · 4 years

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Rules

Im p sure I made a rules post but I can’t find it and forgot to link it when I switched themes whoopsie :”) So here is a new one! Rules are prone to updating as I find stuff I dont want to write!

Also just to be clear! Absolutely no shame here! If you are into this stuff, I have nothing against you! I just personally find these things very uncomfortable to write!

-All characters are aged up to their 20s (or older!) but I still don’t feel comfortable doing requests characters with large age gaps. (Shinsou and Aizawa, Deku and All Might, ect) I do do poly!Stuff but this just makes me personally uncomfortable and I won’t write it.

-I wont write stuff placed in UA/Highschool settings, All my characters will be aged up to 20+ years old, and they will all be pro heros or independent adults based off of the plot of the fic

-If your request contains non-con I might not do it, or it might take a longer time to write. Please be patient with me, and I promise ill do my best to get requests out as fast as I can!

-I won’t do detailed works of extreme violence/domestic abuse towards darlings. I might do quick fics or headcanons leading up to something but I wont write detailed scenes of darling being beat or even accidentally killed by their yandere, sorry.

Also just a quit shoot of basics I wont do

No:

-Incest (step-sibling or not)

-Beastiality (monster fucking is a okay)

-Scat (Piss is also a okay tho)

-Vore

-Teacher x Student (college or otherwise)

#rules #more to come probably

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teliangel · 4 years

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As If It Meant Something

Author’s note: I’m back, here to make everyone feel terrible things once again. This time we’re buckling down and experiencing the events of the terrible Princeit relationship from Remus’ perspective cause Reflections wrecked me, so if I have to suffer, you do too :)

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors thank you for making this monstrosity a possibility, ily so come scream with me.

PLEASE NOTE, if you haven’t read LAOFT this isn’t gonna make a lick of sense, so go read that, get emotionally steamrolled, then come back to be emotionally sucker punched by this slugger.

TWs: Remus typical violence, abusive relationships, thinking fondly of an abuser, contemplation of murder, grief handled poorly, jealously handled equally poorly, hurt with no comfort (again)

Parings: Remus/Deceit, Roman/Deceit, brief LAMP mention

Remus was in love.

It had been love at first sight, instantaneous and intense, like most things were for him. But from the first revel he had attended, left to his own devices but not the least bit shy for it, his eyes had unavoidably landed on the king, and in the span of a second he was completely smitten. But the king was the king, and he was an unremarkable Summer aside from being remarkably annoying to most, so getting close enough to share what he felt was a vital declaration of devotion was nigh on impossible. So he watched. He had thought he might like to dance at his first revel, or pester some pixies, or get into whatever the clusters of unseelie were involved in, but he found he'd rather gouge his eyes out than look away from the king. He was polished and regal and perfect, and Remus wanted to look at him for forever.

But the revel had to end at some point, and then he was flocked by simpering fae paying their dues. Remus was terrible at being patient, and the impulse to tear through the bodies between him and the king was nearly unbearable, but if he made too much of scene then he'd be done away with before he could even get close, and while being offed while looking at that beautiful, beautiful face sounded blissful, he really would like to talk to the other boy first. Eventually the king stepped down from the dais and off into the shadows, devoured by them like he was made of the same stuff, and Remus followed him in what was probably a complete breach of protocol. He never was good at remembering the rules, and he cared even less about the ones he did remember. And then he was crowded up in the king's space, the other boy's brow pinched in all too familiar irritation, a confession spilling from his lips like blood from a fresh stab wound. He started and he couldn't stop, words running into each other until he was completely uncertain if he was making any sense whatsoever, and the king's expression slowly shifted from frustration to shock to amusement. And then he was laughing, so hard and bright that Remus stopped speaking immediately just to listen to the sound in dumbfounded pleasure. Surely no one has heard such a genuine laugh from the king before because he couldn't imagine anyone being able to be afraid of him if they had. The thought made him feel like he had swallowed the whole damn sun and it was burning bright in his belly. Then the king had asked for his name and he had given it, because there wasn't a single part of himself he wouldn't offer up if only the king would laugh like that again.

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Remus had never hated anyone with the intensity that he hated Roman. Honestly, he hadn't known he had it in him to hang onto any one feeling aside from his love for Dee for longer than a breath, but here he was, broiling in his own rage. By the sun and stream and all things rotting, who did that human think he was? Riding into the revel on the king's horse like he had any right to be there, and staying plastered to the boy's side all night like some unfairly pretty leech. It made Remus want to break something or set something on fire or gut the human and strew his entrails from one end of the woods to the other and- Well. It upset him. Which was why he was out pacing instead of at the court, because if he saw the bastard's face, if Dee so much as smiled at him, he was liable to do something drastic and Dee would get angry. And it didn't help they looked so alike, slight distortions of each other, like brothers with different fathers. Was this how humans felt about changelings? The invasive same but not the same, the feeling of something replaced, an unfair exchange? If it was he could understand why the sensation would drive a mother to stab a fae child with a hot iron poker. The worst part, though, was how betrayed he felt. There was no doubt in his mind that Dee loved him, even if he never said as much. Remus was the one who was so effusive with the word love that he got stuck on it sometimes, repeating himself over and over, increasingly frantic with the thought that it might not come across right, that Dee might not believe him, until the king would laugh and shut him up. But he knew. He knew Dee loved him. Who else would he tell his secrets to, who else would he be calm and relaxed with? No one but Remus. And Remus knew he was a lot to handle, that everyone thought he was awful and disgusting, but that made him all the more sure Dee loved him because why would he put up with him otherwise?

But if Dee had brought this human back with him then that meant- that might mean-

No. He didn't believe it.

It had to be the witch's fault (for he knew the other boy was a witch, he could smell it on him like burning hair and bonfires), he had some sort of spell or charm placed on Remus' love. Well, he wouldn't be fooled. He saw the witch for what he was - an usurper, a substitute, a sham - and he wasn't having it. Roman had to be done away with. He'd have to be subtle, or Dee might get upset. He wasn't great at being subtle, though. The exact opposite, really. But everyone in court knew his brand of 'play', and if he accidentally loped off Roman's head, well whoopsie, things went like that sometimes! And that was if Dee didn't get bored first, which surely he would. Roman was just a boring old human who'd age and break with use. Remus was obviously better. He just had to wait for his love to come to the same conclusion. He wasn't a patient man by any means, but if it was for Dee, he could wait.

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Remus was feeling . . . Something.

The feeling, whatever it was, didn't show up often, and he didn't pay much mind to it when it did. He liked straightforward things, easily defined and acted on, not feelings he couldn't articulate. But he couldn't sleep tonight, and was feeling unusually pensive, so he was rolling the something over in his mind like a worry stone. The crux of the feeling, the root of the strange thing, was that he didn't exactly hate Roman anymore. He wasn't sure when the change had taken place, when his not-so-subtle attempts to murder the witch turned to more playful pranks, when the mere sight of him stopped making Remus want to remove his eyes. Granted, they weren't lovers like he and Dee were (the mere thought of that caused a sense of revulsion that Remus rarely ever experienced), and they weren't friends either. And every time the king kissed Roman he still wanted to stab him in the neck or maybe strangle him- and not in the fun way. But . . . But on nights like tonight, when he and the human had sat on either side of Dee at the revel, wine and conversation flowing easily between them and the king's mood high . . . well. He felt . . . fond? Happy? He didn't know! But he didn't hate Roman anymore, and he hadn't even noticed it until after a long day the human had woken him up coming in far sooner than he had wanted to wake that night, and instead of throwing a rock or a knife at him like he would have in the past he simply twisted his hand and left the witch's hair in knots, the other boy squawking indignantly. And it kept happening. Sure, he still injured Roman from time to time (he was a biter, he could not help this), but the tone of their relationship had shifted, somehow. And he felt strange. He didn't think he'd be any more sad if Roman died now than when they'd first met. But it would make things odd. They were sort of balanced, like this. As bitter a taste as it left in Remus' mouth, Dee needed things from Roman that the Summer simply couldn't give. He'd never be so polished and charming and civil. But the things that scared Roman about Dee where the things that Remus loved most. And if Dee didn't have the two of them, who did he have? Remus was of the humble opinion that every living creature should worship the ground the king walked on, but they were all too chicken-shit to even look at him properly most of the time. So who would love Dee if not them? That made the something-feeling even more complicated. Remus hated overthinking things and waxing poetic about his feelings (he wasn't Roman) but lying here in the dark, listening to his king and the human breathing soft and deep, he seemed unable to stop. The worst thing about this sort of mood and the something-feeling was that it made him feel something spongy and oddly vulnerable in his chest, because it made him realize that Roman wasn't actually all that awful. Maybe- maybe if he had met him before Dee had taken the human on, or maybe if they had met in literally any way that wasn't him trying to steal his lover, or-or- He shook his head viciously to dispel the thought, freezing when Dee snuffled in his sleep before hunkering back down. Hypotheticals were the worst for making the feeling stronger. Because maybe, under other circumstances, they would have been friends. And maybe he'd prefer those hypotheticals, and that was worse. Because what did that mean? What did that say about them, and what they had, and Dee? What did it say about him? Nope, he didn't want to think about it, or the something-feeling. He flopped over with a frustrated grunt, burying his face in the king's shoulder and rubbing his nose along the scales that peppered it. He wanted things to be simpler, and the resentment towards Roman for complicating things was almost always simmering right beneath his skin.

But.

But maybe one day it wouldn't be like that? Maybe things would get simple again, and Roman wouldn't have to die for it to happen, either.

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Remus was ecstatic.

He had been given a quest and it was going to fix everything. Finally he could prove himself to Dee, prove his dedication, and take back his rightful spot as the favored lover. He was nearly dizzy with the heady combination of delight and relief. The quest had settled on him with the reassuring weight of a down comforter, heavy and sweet. He nearly wept from it, as disgustingly sentimental as that was. This proved that Dee still had faith in him. That he trusted him to earn his place back. They both had an out now, one that didn't involve hurting Roman more than a little bit of heartbreak would. And, well, Remus wouldn't gloat too much when he succeeded. He knew how unpleasant it was to be unseated, to feel like you were loosing a lover. Maybe Dee could even be convinced to keep him as a knight! He was useful enough. The entirety of his life didn't have to be uprooted. And then they'd all live happily ever after and all that sappy shit.

Yes, this was perfect.

Everything was going to be okay.

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Nothing was okay.

Nothing was going to be okay ever again either. Remus' life was as good as over, dead and decomposing, without even a grave to mark its passing and- and-

And Dee was dead.

It couldn't be real. It didn't feel real. He couldn't have been gone for that long, not long enough for things to get that out of hand, and what was he going to do? Everything he'd ever done was pointless. It amounted to absolutely nothing now, and he shrieked into the night air with a lack of anything else to release the bubbling agonized thing burning in the back of his throat like bile. Roman was supposed to take care of their king while he was gone. Sure he wasn't as good as Remus, but he was competent enough, and loyal to a fault. Except he wasn't. He wasn't the man Remus thought he was at all, and he had spun back around to hating the witch more than anything on this earth. How could he? Dee had no one but them. No one who loved him, no one he could trust. There was Remus, and Roman, and that was it. And the second he was away the witch had pranced off to the next shiny thing. Hadn't he loved Dee at all? Remus had. Did. He thought the sun rose and set at the king's feet, thought all the flowers bloomed just to bask in his light, and Remus was built up around his every desire and would gladly rip himself apart tooth and nail for him and- And there was nothing. He had come back to nothing. His room in the court taken by another, his seat at the throne replaced by three for a witch a human and another seelie, his treasures meant for Dee -as proof of his love- taken by his replacement. All he had now was a bird singing at his shoulder and chest so full of unnameable feeling that he wasn't sure how it wasn't bursting through his bones and flesh, rending him open in a bloody mess. Because oh, he was bleeding. But there was no wound. Nothing to stitch together or slap a poultice on. Just carnage that had no exit mark. Remus crumpled over on the dew soaked grass beneath him. He didn't know where he was, nor did he much care at the moment. Maybe he'd get up soon and do something useful like set something on fire or pull the wings off a pixie. But for now he curled up on the ground and wept for everything that could never be fixed. And as his feathery companion settled on his head, her beak ruffling and preening his disheveled hair, he could almost imagine it was fingers tugging knots free as soft words were exchanged above his head. He could pretend he was in his old room, the revel just outside whenever he was ready to go back.

He could afford to pretend for just a little while longer. After all, no one was looking for him now.

#laoft #tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors #sanders sides #tw violence #tw abuse #tw unhealthy relationship #tw unhealthy coping mechanisms #tw hurt with no comfort #who wants to get back on the angst train with me since apparently I never get off?#questionable writing

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nafeary · 4 years

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Requested by @zazax42

Hi sweets!! I saw you were doing matchups and I was going to ask for ikemen vampire BUT THEN I saw you were doing ATLA and I couldnt decide between the two, so just choose whichever you prefer, if that's okay 💖

Alright! I'm a girl, Capricorn,ENFP/ENTP (ENTP gang 🤗), average height, short blonde hair and greenish eyes, kinda tanned. I'm really buff and strong in the upper body which makes me a bit insecure because I look like a man.. Otherwise I'm pretty slim and flat as a board, with the exception of my *cough* 🍑

I'm a bit of a gentle giant, I'm not really emotional at all but I'll cry if I accidentally step on a bug :( Also I'm the type of person who calls everyone sweetie/hun/love. The only time I'm mean is if someone's bothering my friends or the people I love. I'm kind of a flirt and really confident because I've been rejected so many times I might as well just shoot my shot you know 🤗 I'm super competitive and I never back down from a challenge but I know how to take defeat too. I do little dances a lot, especially when I'm happy or if I want to make someone laugh. Unfortunately for me and the people around me I'm really dirty minded and pretty shameless about it too... whoopsies

I do tons of sports, mainly swimming which I train for everyday for multiple hours, and I was very close to going to junior Olympics last year before I overworked and injured myself. Some other stuff I do is pole and aerial dance, boxing, archery, horse riding, singing... just anything I feel up to. I pick up new hobbies and sports very easily so it's not a problem. Despite working a lot I have sleep issues, so I often get told my face looks sad but I'm actually just really tired all the time heh 😌

Other than that, I'm actually Slavic so English isnt my first language, but it IS my favourite subject and I kind of want to go to Oxford to study it but I dont think I'm quite good enough. I'm good at all subject actually, except for physics because what the hell even is that. I may be smart but I'm a bit of a dumbass too, I'm forgetful, clumsy, gullible... just not great ✌ Also, I really like cooking and I love making food for others and seeing them happy eating it! This is even more true if it's a romantic partner. I like being pampered but I love pampering even more and to be honest, I'm a bit attention starved and just want someone to kiss me and hold my hand 🥺

Anyway, I'm sorry for putting so much information, I hope it's not a bother 🥰 take your time uwu

I need people like you to remind me that ENTPs aren’t arseholes lmao. You must be such a cool person (I wish I knew you). Reading through this made me feel hella inspired and legit cued anime sparkles everywhere 💖💖

And I don’t mind a lot of info at all, it grants me more to work with (making the overall match up longer and more detailed).

I hope you are pleased with the match I have for you (I chose an ATLA match, btw). Without further ado...

I ship you with, *le drumrolls*

Cabbage Man 🥬

There is nothing that fits your— yeah okay I’m joking.

I actually ship you with, *le actual drumrolls*

Toph Beifong ⛰

At this point, I have an inkling that I have a thing for matches who will become better as a pair, compared to fitting together for the beginning.

Lowkey recipes for a distaster 👀

Capricorn and Sagittarius (Toph’s zodiac) are a rather... bizarre couple. On top of that, an ISTP (Toph’s MBTI) with an intuitive partner instead of a sensing one is also rather unheard of. Some would even dare say that those are entirely disparate types, and never the twain shall meet.

HOWEVER, that is not to say that it wouldn’t work out.

Your relationship with Toph would be like dancing the dragon dance salsa. Complex and exhilarating rythms, alternating movements of allure and inconnu detachment, each sui generis thrust and roll a declaration of love or a harmless flirt.

Neither of you would be pushing for your romance to happen; and yet, it was as if nature itself had made a schedule for your meetings, playing a game of faith and destiny. The blossoming of your friendship would be rocky; albeit, it would quickly evolve into an avalanche of less-than-pleasant quips and harmless under-the-table middle finger exchanges (the metalbender’s interpretation of it being slightly genuine than your friendly and flirty jokes).

The moment it clicked for basically everyone that you were definitely not meant to be, alas a power couple fighting till dawn was the aftermath of one of your worse quarrels (the type that would leave the little earth bender in an abyss of her own earthquake). After silent brooding on both ends, you met up with the stubborn girl and listened to her side of the affair, illustrating yours fairly and squarely.

A thousand more conflicts would happen, but you’d resolve each and every one of them.

Now that we are passed the drama, time for *insert spongebob voice* loveeee ✋🌈🤚

ISTPs require time to recharge their “dealing-with-idiots” capacity. That won’t be an issue for an ENTP with the close to a million hobbies and interests. However, in the close guise of your home walls, you’ll get the attention you require. While Toph isn’t the exactly the biggest fan of intimacy, she’ll compromise for you.

But you should expect a lot of teasing from her side, too. She might not be able to see you pole-dancing (“Thanks for pointing that out, Sokka.”), nevertheless, shell know exactly how to make you sink to earth’s core in embarrassment.

To sum it all up, you might not be made for each other, but improving each other’s qualities is a huge part of a relationship.

So yeah, drama and angst, but it all ended well.

(If you don’t want as much drama, there is always cabbage man 😉.)

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla headcanons #atla meme #atla fanfic #atla fandom #atla toph #toph x reader #toph beifong #match ups #match up #matchups #request #we love power couples #i want a toph #where can i get a toph #soulmates are overrated #boooooooo #submission

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tommyparkerr · 5 years

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Appendicitis Pt. 2 | Peter Parker & Tony Stark (Irondad)

I TOLD YOU GUYS I WOULD HAVE THIS UP LATER TONIGHT ON PETER’S BIRTHDAY AND TIME KINDA GOT AWAY FROM ME (i was watching hallmark whoopsy daisy) AND NOW IT’S CRUNCH TIME BABY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PETER, I LOVE YOU HONEY <3

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Brief mentioning of a panic attack, other than that none (I think)?

Read Part One here

-Masterlist-

A P P E N D I C I T I S P T. 2 — T H E T A L K :

When Peter woke up a second time, he felt much more awake than before. He still had a cannula breathing extra oxygen into him, yes, but his limbs no longer felt like a hundred pounds and his brain wasn’t muddled by fog. This time he was able to take in his surroundings, taking note of how homey the hospital room felt. He was sure this was only because he was at the Tower’s med bay and not an actual hospital, but he appreciated it all the same.

One thing he didn’t appreciate as much, though, was being alone. Peter fuzzily remembered his mentor getting him water which meant he had to have been here at some point, proven by the half-empty cup still sitting by his bedside.

Peter grunted as he sat up, protectively putting an arm over his stomach. He was exhausted despite having slept for probably a long while if the glaring sun outside the window meant anything. He blinked lethargically, letting a yawn escape before taking the leftover water and gulping it down. His mouth was incredibly dry—so much so, in fact, that his lips were cracking.

“Hey, FRIDAY?” Peter asked, his voice weak but steady. “How long have I been asleep?”

“You’ve been asleep for approximately twenty-nine hours, Peter,” the AI answered, and Peter’s eyes immediately widened.

“Twenty-nine hours?!” he exclaimed as he leaned forward, wincing when his movement disturbed the stitches he remembered Tony telling him he had. He wanted to look at them, but he also didn’t want to pull up his entire gown to do it.

“Yes, Peter.” She paused for a moment as if debating whether or not to give him extra information. Eventually her coding must have convinced her to do so, as she followed up with, “It seems your healing factor induced you into a deep sleep while it worked.”

“Huh,” Peter muttered, shaking his head. He’d known his healing factor hadn’t left, per se, but the whole situation still confused him. He didn’t let himself worry about that long, however, as FRIDAY’s next line had him worrying (panicking) over something completely different.

“Shall I alert your father that you’re awake?”

“My...my what?” Peter choked out, his breaths growing shorter as he suddenly remembered being curled up on the bench in the lab, vomit underneath and on him as he told the AI he wanted his dad. His dad, who was luckily out of the room but probably gladly so as he wondered how exactly to tell Peter he didn’t want him in his life anymore.

Shit.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he quickly said, “No—no, FRI, just-just give me a sec.”

“Of course, Peter.”

Peter was suddenly thankful for the oxygen cannula, even though it was starting to get uncomfortable against his skin. He forced himself to breathe, closing his eyes and thinking of only calm, safe things.

Aunt May’s arms around him after he came back from Spider-Manning, Ned’s constant fanboying, and Uncle Ben’s laugh as Peter sat on his shoulders. Accidentally calling the Tower ‘home’ in front of Aunt May and the woman being so happy her nephew had a second family that she cried. The sound of AC/DC as it blasted throughout the lab, Dum-E’s whirring, and the consistent sound of metal hitting metal. The way his mentor’s face lit up every time Peter walked through the door, making him feel wanted in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

This was his new normal. This was his new safe. And as much as Peter wanted to deny it, his mentor was more than just a mentor to him. He was, in every shape and form, his dad, and though he was terrified Tony would kick him out of his life after this, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret what he’d said.

If luck was on Peter’s side, maybe Tony didn’t remember it. Maybe he even chalked it down to Peter being delirious from the pain and rolled with it only not to freak him out even more.

There was only one way to find out.

“Okay, FRI,” Peter said quietly as he opened his eyes, breathing deep. “You can alert him now. Just...just don’t tell him I told you to. Let him think you did it on your own.”

Because while he knew it probably wouldn’t make a difference in how Tony thought of him, Peter didn’t want to seem too needy. He was sixteen now, almost an adult, so he could take care of himself. He didn’t need his mentor to do that for him. The only reason he’d told FRIDAY to in the first place was because he knew she’d have to sooner or later, and doing it soon after he woke up made it more believable that Peter hadn’t given the okay—that, and because he didn’t want to be alone.

He hated being alone.

While he waited for Tony to appear, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, hating the way his legs almost collapsed from underneath him. Luckily he was holding onto the side of the bed, but his arms were pretty weak as well so it limited his time.

Finding a way to maneuver the IV so it didn’t pull out as he walked away was difficult but not impossible. The oxygen, however, had to come out. It surprised him how much more difficult it was to breathe without it but didn’t linger too long on the thought, grabbing the empty cup and shakily walking over to the sink. Peter couldn’t help but get frustrated at how much he was wobbling. He figured the lack of food probably didn’t help, but he was hoping an increase in fluids would (mostly because that was all he had access to at the moment, and even that was a struggle).

Peter had just started on his second cup of water when the door to the room opened, startling the boy and causing him to hurriedly grab onto the edge of the counter before he fell.

“What are you—Peter, I swear to God if you don’t get back on that bed in five seconds-” his mentor said, obvious frustration seeking into his tone as he quickly supported the boy upright. “Exactly what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Peter smiled sheepishly at him. “Getting some water?”

“And you couldn’t have, I dunno, waited for me?”

“In my defense,” Peter said trying to hold back an amused grin at his mentor’s distress, “I didn’t know how long you’d be, and I was parched.”

Tony huffed, running a hand over his face and shaking his head. “You’re actually going to give me a heart attack one day, kid. Mark my words.”

Seeing his mentor authentically frustrated with him made the humor of the situation lower considerably for Peter, and he winced before quietly murmuring, “Sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Something like a frown crossed Tony’s face before he shook himself out of it, taking the cup of water from his hands and setting it aside.

“Hey!”

“Nope,” Tony interrupted. “You don’t get any more of this until your butt is back in bed.”

Peter grumbled and rolled his eyes but complied, turning and (with the help of his mentor) walking back to the bed. He tried hard not to sigh too loud in relief when Tony fitted the cannula back under his nose. From the looks of it, he didn’t do a very good job of holding it in.

“You’re still weak, Underoos; you’ve had no food for over 24 hours plus had nothing in your stomach beforehand, and they had to give you round the clock drugs to keep you knocked out during and right after surgery. Having a ruptured appendix along with one of the speediest metabolisms in all of mankind does that to you,” he explained, finally handing over the water. Peter frowned and took it, gulping it down.

“FRIDAY said my healing factor put me in some sort of induced sleep.”

“After the majority of the drugs were out of your system, yes.” Tony plopped back into the chair by his bedside. “That’s what we could figure, anyway. Are you hungry?”

Yes, his mind instantly replied. His mouth, however, stayed shut. He shrugged, looking down and picking at his sheets. “I mean, it can wait. You just sat down and I know you’ve been busy taking care of me for awhile, so you can totally take a break if you need one. I can take care of myself.”

A hand rested on top of his. Peter looked up to see his mentor’s raised eyebrows and ‘are you kidding me’ look. “Kid, I’m taking care of you because I want to, and you’re most certainly not capable of taking care of yourself right now,” he added, nodding toward the cannula. Peter pursed his lips. “I know you hate being in this position, and, trust me, I hate it just as much as you do, but let me take care of you without any complaints just this once, okay?”

Peter stayed quiet, sighing softly to himself. His mentor paused as if just now realizing how uncharacteristic his words were for Tony Stark and opened his mouth to cover it up with, “I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s the least you could do for giving me nearly eight heart attacks in the span of three days.”

This got a smile out of Peter. “Fine,” he relented. “I guess I’m hungry, then.”

Tony grinned. “That’s good to hear. Unfortunately, you won’t be receiving anything other than toast, crackers, and pudding for the next 24 hours, but at least it’s food.”

Peter made a face. “That’s not real food.”

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but if you decide you want to eat anything other than that your stomach isn’t going to be digesting ‘real’ anything.”

“Welp,” Peter said, his nose scrunching up and his appetite considerably lowered, “that was totally not an image I needed to see right now.”

Tony shook his head at him with a chuckle. “How about we see how the water settles and in about an hour we reassess?” Peter nodded and sunk back into his pillows, relieved at the silence that filled the room afterward. However, the relief didn’t last long. “Sooo…” Tony drawled, looking directly at Peter.

Peter gulped, and his heart skipped a beat before picking back up full speed ahead. “Sooo...what?”

“We need to have a talk, kiddo.”

A weight settled in Peter’s stomach, making him shift uncomfortably and look down at his lap away from his mentor’s accusing eyes. “What-what about?”

“I think let’s start with your self-preservation skills and how utterly stupid it was to hide your symptoms from me,” Tony said with a sharp edge to his tone, though Peter could tell he wasn’t really angry. Just worried and maybe a teensy bit frustrated Peter let it get this far. But this topic was much better than the one he’d been anticipating, so he gladly responded.

“Okay, so I know it looks bad—“

“Bad? Oh no, kid, it doesn’t just look bad—it looks completely idiotic and is seriously making me wonder what else you’ve kept hidden from me,” Tony snapped, and Peter shrunk in his seat, trying not to let the guilt in his eyes show for fear his mentor would grill him about the secrets he’d kept and the lies he’d told.

“Tony—”

“Hell, kid,” Tony exhaled with an exhausted laugh that Peter knew wasn’t in response to humor. “The fever, the fatigue, the stomach ‘ache’, the lack of appetite, the inability to keep anything down—it all pointed to the flu, so we wrote it off as such. If we had known that when you said your stomach ‘hurt’ you meant debilitating and excruciating pain, I think we could’ve caught this a little sooner.”

“But it wasn’t excruciating!” Peter finally was able to get in, seizing his opportunity to defend himself. “It just...hurt, you know? Like when you hit your hip on the edge of the counter and you swear you’ve been stabbed or something because it hurts so bad? But then it fades away and you don’t pay any attention to it because you know that everyone has felt it and at that point it’s just embarrassing?”

Tony studied the boy for a few moments, his soft yet skeptical eyes meeting Peter’s frantic ones. Peter wanted—no, needed—him to understand that he wasn’t back on his ‘self-sacrificial bullshit’ as his mentor called it, taking excruciating pain as it came without telling anybody because he was too stubborn and hard-headed to admit weakness.

There was once a time where Peter would’ve done it. In fact, it wasn’t too long ago that he’d hidden from Tony the full extent of what exactly the fight with Vulture had entailed; but one night, after one too many nightmares and post panic attacks, he’d swung to the tower where he’d broken down on the roof—the only place he could breathe. He’d sat there by himself, body racking with broken sobs, until his mentor had joined him in a panicked flurry, making FRIDAY scan him for any injuries. What Tony hadn’t known until FRIDAY told him that his mentee wasn’t currently injured was that the condition Peter was in was caused by nothing other than his own head. Something Tony couldn’t just...fix.

All it took for Peter to finally open up to the man about the gun in the car and the building collapsing on top of him was the understanding gleam in his mentor’s eyes that followed FRIDAY’s report. Somehow Tony had known without actually knowing, and that was the most comforting part of it all—that Peter wasn’t the only one who’d ever faced those feelings. That he wasn’t alone. That he’d be okay.

However, if Peter had known one of his organs was on the verge of rupturing and causing him unbearable pain, he liked to think he would’ve told Tony (or at least had done some research on his own and self-diagnosed).

“Kid,” Tony eventually sighed, running a tired hand down his face and giving a small snort of a chuckle. “I don’t know what’s more insane: the fact that you thought it was normal to have that kind of pain with the common flu or the fact that you‘re comparing that kind of pain to hitting your hip on the counter.”

Peter flushed but still attempted to defend himself. “But haven’t you ever done it, Mr. Stark?! It hurts like hell!”

“Language,” was Tony’s automatic response. As Peter was rolling his eyes and about to make a comment on how that wasn’t his line to cross, Tony went on. “Pete, I work in a lab almost every day with tables and countertops galore—of course I’ve hit my hip on the edge of one. I do it at least once a week. But there’s also only a few seconds where you’re convinced it’s hell-“

“Language,” Peter mocked under his breath. Choosing to ignore it, Tony continued.

“-until it fades away and you’re good to go again. You’re telling me having a ruptured organ is just as serious?”

He stayed quiet, shrinking a little under his mentor’s gaze. His only response was a mumbled, “It was just a comparison,” and a slight pout as he crossed his arms and avoided eye contact. Tony chuckled, absentmindedly reaching over to tuck a stubborn curl back into place on Peter’s head. Peter softened just enough at the action to lighten up on the pout and look at his mentor for just one moment before flicking his eyes back down to his scratchy hospital gown. One would think that since it was the Avengers medical wing, the quality of the clothing would be better. Turns out that while everything else was of much, much higher quality than a normal hospital—the food, the bed, the room, the channels on the TV, the actual TV—the gowns had to stay ‘for medical purposes’.

Peter couldn’t wait to change into sweatpants and one of Tony’s hoodies he’d been collecting.

“Hey, Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“When do I get out of here?”

“Helen wants you under observation for at least 48 hours before she sends you off.” Before Peter could groan and complain some more, Tony raised an eyebrow and added, “She also said normally it’d be about a week for a case as serious as yours, but since you have your healing factor she was being generous enough to cut that time down by more than half.” Peter snapped his jaw shut. “That’s what I thought,” Tony said with an amused quirk of his lips.

“Actually, I have a question about that,” Peter asked some time later after uncrossing his arms and relaxing back into his bed.

“About what?”

“My healing factor,” Peter said, then realizing how vague that was, quickly added, “You know—why it didn’t take care of the internal damage.”

“Your healing factor was actually the reason why everything happened as sudden as it did,” Tony explained, looking quite comfortable in the chair accompanying his bedside (even though Peter was sure it couldn’t be). “Once it knew your appendix was inflamed, it immediately tried to heal it—as it should have.”

“Then why...why didn’t it heal?” Peter asked weakly, feeling stupid for even having to ask. He knew how his healing factor worked, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around why it hadn’t worked this time around.

“Put simply, once an appendix is inflamed and appendicitis hits, it’s donezo. Kapeesh. Nada. It’s not an organ meant to be healed or replaced; it’s why doctors chop it out rather than try to repair it.” Peter made a face at his mentor’s choice of words, but it didn’t seem to affect Tony. “So when your healing factor started healing it brought the pain level down just enough for you to not be overly alarmed about it, but because of your lack of hydration and nutrition, it didn’t have enough energy to do it consistently; it’s why your pain levels differed so much from hour to hour.”

Peter frowned, trying to digest this information with his brain functioning at half capacity. “I get why it couldn’t heal the appendix specifically, I guess? But...but how did it make it worse?”

“That’s the thing; it didn’t make it worse. Just simply camouflaged the pain until it became too big of an issue for it to handle.” At Peter’s continued frown as he tried to work it out in his head, his mentor went on with a tired exhale. “Pete, when your appendix finally burst, your healing factor could no longer contain it and you felt the pain you should’ve been experiencing steadily and progressively all at once.”

It was quiet for a minute or two. Eventually, a weak, “Oh,” slipped out of Peter’s lips.

“Yeah, kid. ‘Oh’,” he chuckled.

Another beat of silence.

“Does...does that mean I can’t get the flu, then?”

Tony gave an exasperated snort at that. “That’s what you’re worried about? You had an internal rupture that could have potentially killed you had your healing factor continued acting as a heavy painkiller, and you’re worried about the goddamn flu?”

Peter grew a sheepish smile; he realized now how silly it sounded, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still curious. But maybe that was something best to find out with time. Somehow, he didn’t think pushing the topic would squeeze out very many answers at this point.

Tony slumped in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind, kid. Just...let’s just forget that piece of the conversation ever happened, yeah?”

“Okay,” Peter said, dragging out the last syllable. “But, in all seriousness, do you really think I could get the flu or is my DNA like Mr. Captain America’s and I’ll never catch the bug that goes around school every winter? Because I always did before I got bit, but I didn’t last year so do you think that was just a coincidence, like a stroke of luck, or do you think it was because of my new DNA?”

“You’re literally hopeless, Parker,” was all Tony said, laughing with his head shaking back and forth.

“Okay, but hear me out, Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed, his hands waving wildly around and missing the hurt look on his mentor’s face that had briefly shown up earlier as well. “There’s no way I didn’t get sick due to luck, because I think we both know Parker luck is literally the worst, so that just leaves coincidence, and I don’t think-”

“Pete, you know I love your senseless rambles, kid, but shut up for a second, okay?” Tony interrupted, and Peter immediately stopped talking, his hands falling back down to his sides.

“Um...o-okay?” Peter said, frowning as he turned his gaze to his lap. He wasn’t going to lie: being told to shut up by someone he’d come to think of as a dad hurt a lot.

Obviously sensing his hurt, Tony took one of his hands, being careful not to disturb the IV. “I’m sorry, kid. Look, as soon as I get done having this conversation you can go right back to speculating whether or not you can get the flu, but can I just talk to you about something for a minute?”

Peter couldn’t remember ever seeing his mentor so serious before which made him more nervous than he’d like to admit. Tony was all sarcasm with a side of snark, not...not this. Whatever this was. “I-yeah, um...yeah, sure, Mr. Stark.”

His face tightened, and Peter’s frown deepened. “I know I don’t say this very often, but I love you, Pete. More than I thought I could love the fourteen-year-old kid running around New York in red and blue pajamas every night, but it’s all the same.”

Peter blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. He swallowed, wondering if he should point out that that was actually the first time Tony had ever told him he loved him or if he should leave it be for fear his mentor already knew that fact but was ignoring it. He decided on the latter. “I...I love you too, Mr. Stark. But what’s this about?”

Tony sighed, dropping his head and squeezing his hand. “That. That’s exactly what this is about. The ‘Mr. Stark’ shi-crap.”

“What about it? I don’t think I-” Peter cut himself off, his eyes widening as he realized what exactly Mr. Stark had been referring to. His heart skipped a beat. “I’ve always called you Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark. I mean, yeah, it started out as good manners, but it just kinda stuck, ya know? I’m sorry if it offended you or something--I can totally call you Tony if you want. Actually, can we start with a transition? Like Mr. Tony? Just until I get used to the whole first name basis thing and can drop the ‘Mr.’?”

Tony had picked his head up somewhere in the middle of Peter’s ranting, had eyed the nervous aversion of Peter’s eyes from his, the attempt to ignore what both of them knew what Tony had been talking about, and was now wearing a half-smirk half-smile. “Cut the crap, Pete,” he said. “I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Peter stumbled, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “I-I don’t know exactly what you’re referring to, Mr. Sta-”

“The ‘Dad’ thing, Pete,” Tony interrupted, raising an eyebrow. Peter blushed, nervously chewing at his lip.

“Right,” Peter said much more quietly than he’d been talking before. “The...the ‘Dad’ thing.”

Tony didn’t speak, simply waiting—waiting for him. Waiting for Peter to explain himself because he wasn’t fooling anybody with the clueless act. The silence dragged on for a few minutes’ time until it successfully made Peter’s nerves spill over the edge in the form of, as Tony had put it, ‘senseless rambling’.

“Okay, so, in my defense, you were never supposed to hear that. I was only saying it in my head because I slipped in my thoughts once and so I thought that it’d be okay as long as I just kept it in my head. But-but then I just—it hurt so much, Mr. Stark, and I didn’t know what was happening and, yeah, I was scared, and I couldn’t control what I was saying, but that doesn’t mean anything, right? People say a lot of stupid stuff when they’re drunk or drugged up or in a lot of pain and that’s completely normal, right? And FRIDAY is just really smart because she knew who I was actually asking for when I said I wanted my dad, but then I said it to your face and I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Stark. I understand if you don’t want me around or if you want me to apologize or something, and I really am sorry.”

There was a pause, Peter’s heavy breathing being the only noise in the room other than the consistent beeping of his heart monitor.

“What the hell do you have to apologize for?”

His mentor’s bluntness took him by surprise. Peter blinked, only once this time. “Um...you know, for-for calling you ‘Dad’?”

Tony simply stared for a good minute and a half. Peter started to freak out all over again at that point, because maybe Tony had thought Peter hadn’t meant it when he’d called him ‘Dad’ and now that Peter apologized he was realizing he actually had meant it—because who sincerely apologized for something they didn’t mean?—and why exactly had Peter chosen to speak at all?

Just as he was about to open his mouth and apologize again—for what, he wasn’t sure—Tony beat him to it. “And you’re sorry about that?” he asked softly, his eyes gentle.

“Yes, I am! Because...because…” Peter was truly at a loss for words now. The truth was he wasn’t sorry that he’d admitted to himself what his mentor was to him. The problem he had with it was that he’d admitted it out loud to the one person he didn’t want finding out. He was afraid he’d lose Tony if he told him or that he would get Hulk-level angry and turn into some beast Peter didn’t recognize but fully knew he deserved to face.

So, the only slightly valid reason he could come up with in that short amount of time came tumbling out of his mouth.

“Because you’d get mad and leave,” Peter mumbled, pulling his hand out of his mentor’s grip and twisting his fingers together in his lap.

Another short pause. A sigh. “Peter, bud...you really thought I’d leave?” Tony said, his voice low and close to breaking. At Peter’s hesitant nod, he closed his eyes as if he were in pain and asked, “Why?”

Peter’s heart ached at his mentor’s rather emotional response and bit his lip to hold back the tears rapidly forming in his eyes. “Mr. Stark, I swear it’s not anything you did that made me think that, it’s just...it’s just…” Peter finally looked up to make eye contact with Tony, a surge of love and longing and sadness and mourning passed through him, and suddenly he knew how his sentence ended. “Everyone leaves, Dad. Everyone. My mom, my-my actual dad, my uncle Ben--everyone I love just leaves, and I was afraid—I am afraid—that as soon as I admit that to you I’ll lose you, too. It’s like I’m a walking death curse but only casting it on the ones I love, and it hurts so bad to watch all of them go away. “ Peter cried, finally admitting what he’d kept to himself for years. He hiccupped on a sob but kept going, because he wasn’t quite finished. “So I was hoping that-that maybe if I never told you, you wouldn’t go away. That-that you’d stay, for once. Because no one else has, and I-I need my dad.”

He hadn’t noticed he wasn’t the only one crying in the room until Tony gently brushed off Peter’s tears and he could see tear-filled eyes staring right back at him. The lump in his throat only grew bigger at the sight, and a new set of tears formed.

“Scoot over, kid,” Tony said, his voice sounding wrecked even at a whisper. Peter was confused but scooched over anyway, all of it becoming clear as his mentor—his dad—crawled in next to him. Peter fumbled as he was dragged into the space between his mentor’s legs but immediately took comfort in the position when his dad’s arms wrapped around him and held him tighter than he’d been held in a long, long time.

Peter buried his head in Tony’s old AC/DC T-shirt and continued to cry, some tears out of relief that he’d finally admitted everything he’d been carrying on his shoulders. He felt his dad kiss his head then proceed to rest his chin on it, fully encompassing Peter in his hold.

“I’m not leaving you, kid. Not now, not ever, and I swear that on my mother’s grave.” Tony’s voice was shaky but stable; it was at least strong enough that Peter was able to cling onto it with some semblance of faith. “I’m so sorry life gave you shitty circumstances, but, Peter, you’re always going to have someone who loves you. If it’s not me—and, just for the record, I’m never going to stop loving you, kid—then it’ll be May. If it’s not May it’ll be Ned, and if it’s not Ned it’ll be MJ, and if it’s not MJ it’ll be Pepper, and if it’s not Pepper it’ll be Rhodey—and you see how this continues down the line, right?”

Peter gave a teary laugh and sniffled, nuzzling further into his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I see.”

Tony pulled back, cupping Peter’s face and gently wiping his tears away with the pad of his thumb. He smiled, blinking away some of his own tears, and made sure Peter was looking directly into his eyes before saying, “I love you, Pete. I love you like my own son, and I’m not sure when that started or if it’s just always been there, but you are the best thing to have ever happened to me, you understand?” He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head as if in disbelief. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, kid, but you’re evidence that I must be doing something right. And...and I’d really love it if you let yourself call me ‘Dad’ whenever it slips out instead of beating yourself up about it.”

Peter frowned, his lip wobbling. “You...you’re really sure? Like, really sure? You’re not, like, weirded out or anything by it?”

Tony laughed and tapped his forehead against Peter’s. “I’m really, really sure, Underoos. And maybe I should be weirded out by that since I’ve never been sure of anything in my life, but I think if there were ever to be a situation in my life where I didn’t second guess myself, it only makes sense that it would be you.”

Peter let out a cry of relief and threw his arms around his neck, squeezing as tight as he could without hurting him. “I love you, Dad.”

Tony squeezed back, finding just as much comfort in the ratty brown curls brushing against his cheek as his kid found in the scratch of his beard against his own. He breathed in once, twice, three times, trying to commit this exact moment to memory, before replying. “I love you too, kid. Even though we’re really only in this position now because you were too damned stubborn to say anything.”

He felt Peter’s grin against his shoulder. “It’s my self-sacrificial bullshit, remember?”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Tony tutted, one of his hands coming up to hold the back of Peter’s head. “Only I’m allowed to curse, young man. Dad privileges and all that.”

The sound of Peter’s laugh stuck with Tony for quite some time, and it was then that he vowed to himself he would never go a single day again without it again. It etched a permanent home in his memory, just as a small, innocent, bright-eyed, broken boy had recently etched a permanent home in his heart.

---

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angelofoverwatch · 4 years

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Accidental mistletoe ;;

It was the holiday season around the new base, and if Angela were being honest, it had her on edge. She was known as being one of the more festive members in the organization--second to Lena--and generally speaking she was more than happy to revel in the merriment with her fellow allies. However, this year was different. Particularly for the reason that no one has seen her with the new hairstyle she was sporting. It was a short inverted bob, one which angled out at the sides of her face, framing her features with the white gold tresses. She had decided on the change shortly after the group had reformed, though she’d hadn’t made much of an appearance since. But there was no more hiding, she realizes while counting down the minute hand on her clock. 5:10 PM, just five minutes left before the party begins. She found it odd that the party wouldn’t begin at the top of the hour, but she knew Lena had her reasons. The holiday party was about to begin and she could no longer drag her feet about it. So, with much reluctance, Angela slips into her festive red turtleneck and black slacks, stepping out of her room to join her friends in the large gathering hall.“You’ll be fine, Angela,” She chides to herself aloud, heels clicking softly against the hard surface of the floor below, the only sound which echoes in the corridor. “I am positive it won’t change how the others view me. Their opinions of me are already set in stone, I’d think. It ought to be after all these years. Surely they won’t think less of me for a haircut. Yes, I’m absolutely overthinking this.” She rambles idly, coming to a halt a few paces before the sliding doors. One more step and those doors will glide open. Lingering for a few moments longer, Angela breathes in and released her exhale slowly, deliberately. Feeling a bit calmer, she steps through the door and enters the festive scene before her.Winston and Lena are roaming the far table filled with all sorts of food and beverages. In the center of the room is Mei with her Snowball, laughing jovially with Brigitte and Reinhardt. Curiously, Angela pauses beside the threshold of the entrance, blue eyes darting about for one being in particular. Before she could announce herself or inquire about the missing cyborg, the elated gasp of the former pilot erupts in the room.“Oh, there you two are! Perfectly late!” Lena shouts, waving toward Angela. Blinking, the doctor wastes no time and turns in place to find the ninja approaching from behind. As the other reaches her side, Lena practically sneer from across the room and blinks in a haze of blue, disappearing and reappearing before the pair. “The party started fifteen minutes ago, but I’m preeeeetty sure I told you both the wrong time. Whoopsie! Oi, you two ought ta look up!” Lena chirps, giving the pair a playful wink. “Love the new hair, Angela!” Was the final quip the feisty brunette offered before returning to Winston’s side at the concessions table. All eyes inevitably fell on the doctor and cyborg, playful whistles and remarks causing the room to rumble with life. Nervously, Angela glances upward per Lena’s request, finding what she had feared.Mistletoe.“O-Oh, goodness,” Angela stammers, eyes falling back down to meet Genji’s gaze. “I...I apologize, Genji, I truly didn’t know.” Part of her wanted to be frustrated that Lena would orchestrate their arrival like this, but she knew better than to be mad. No, because it had been a well known fact that she and Genji had an unspoken bond together, one that everyone supported and rooted for since...well, a long while now. She hadn’t in her to be upset, but she certainly could be embarrassed about it. “I...suppose they won’t be satisfied unless we indulge in tradition.” Angela coyly remarks, bringing a hand to chopped tresses, fingers fidgeting with the shortened gold strands. “Would you bear with me and...well, will you permit me this kiss, Genji?”

#I made it a little longer than I thought but asdfjkl;-- <33333 #kitakaze-no-ryu

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mittensmorgul · 6 years

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This may seem like an odd question, but how do you think destiel originated in the narrative? Was it always written in? Or do you think it was the chemistry between misha and jensen that instigated it? (Or maybe some other reason...?) I'm kind of curious how Jensen, a seriously good actor, would let the "eyesex" we see just happen accidentally... There had to be some level of intentionality in the early seasons, right? Idk, im sure there's a lot we cant know there, but im curious what you think

Hi there! And first off, I think I need to stamp a big flashing disclaimer label at the top of this one, because I see a lot of well-intentioned but often cringingly misinformed or outright stabs in the dark or assumptions presented as “obvious fact,” and heck...

I am not affiliated with the staff of the show. I don’t know what the inside of any of the writers’ or showrunners’ heads look like, you know? All I know is what I’ve heard from their own mouths over the years, which I’ve tried to piece together logically. I’m not here to present this as some sort of “document of absolute, unassailable fact,” but “this is what logic would lead me to believe personally.”

But there are some important facts to bear in mind while asking oneself how destiel came to be, and how (and why) it evolved.

First off, there’s this assumption which is arguably incorrect that Kripke began Supernatural from the pilot episode with some Grand Vision of a complete five season arc. And he himself has made numerous statements invalidating that belief. We know for a fact that his “original vision” for the show boiled down to “star wars in truck stop america” where two plucky ghost hunters drove around confronting urban legends and myths that were real in their universe. I mean, just look at the first half of s1. It’s all MotW style episodes that lay out the groundwork of the universe’s mythology.

At the start of the series, Demons were so far above the Winchesters’ pay grade, and Kripke joked about how he would never introduce Angels as part of that universe. It was a running theme in the writers’ room from the start of the series. No angels.

And then the writers’ strike happened, leaving them with a truncated s3 and no room to write themselves out of the corner they’d backed themselves into. Dean landed in Hell, and Kripke relented, with “okay, angels, but only if they’re dicks.”

I think it was likely only part of the way into s4 where Kripke stopped fearing that they might or might not get a renewal for s5 when he set about the whole Apocalypse Arc, with 5.22 as a theoretical end of the series. He has said this himself, that it was Misha joining the show that finally gave him a little breathing room to plan for the future of the series in this way.

And remember also that Misha was originally only scripted and contracted to appear in three episodes. At the beginning of s4, even Kripke hadn’t planned out the fate of his universe beyond that.

So while viewers saw 4.01 and the barn scene and immediately began shipping the thing, because that’s what shippers do, I don’t believe that Castiel was (even in Kripke’s wildest imagination) scripted to take on such a large role in canon.

So while Shipper Zero (waves hi at @k-vichan) was already making a case for destiel, Kripke was still focused on making the ratings to even THINK about planning a two season arc to stop the apocalypse. It just so happened that Castiel-- a character that Kripke had never intended to write (NO ANGELS!)-- became the hook on which his vision for the theoretical end run of his little series hung.

From his first appearance, it was clear that Castiel’s closest tie was with Dean. He pulled Dean out of Hell, and as we see unfold over the course of s4, Cas had been charged by Heaven to essentially shepherd Dean through all the necessary paces to make sure that Heaven’s will was served. Even Cas had been misled on what Heaven’s true objectives were, leading to that HUGE moment in 4.22 where Cas was forced to choose a side, and because of Dean’s influence, he rejected Heaven and chose Humanity.

Now, I don’t believe that was written as some sort of great romantic gesture, you know? Because we all know that despite what Dean and Cas struggle through together over the rest of s5, Cas’s duty returns to Heaven as soon as the apocalypse is thwarted. If Kripke’s “original vision” for the end of s5 had stood as the series end, that would’ve been the last time that Dean ever saw Cas. So... not exactly the stuff of shipper dreams, you know?

But Kripke passed the reins to Sera Gamble and s6 marched onward. The intent was to write Castiel out permanently, and thanks to Ben Edlund and 6.20 for giving Cas a voice before his inevitable demise, we end up with this bit of canonical personal betrayal and heartbreak between Dean and Cas.

Granted, going in to s6, Gamble was planning for and writing a single season arc, because she no longer had that assumption of continuing past s6. I think a lot of the romantic tropey stuff in s6 only slipped in because there was the belief at the time that a) Castiel wasn’t intended to survive the season and this is all swell but it’s never going to amount to anything but Manpain for Dean, and b) there was no guarantee they’d even be picked up for s7 to have to deal with the consequences of these choices anyway.

but then... whoopsie... they had s7 to deal with. Including spiraling ratings. By 7.17 when Cas miraculously came back, I think they’d sort of written themselves into this particular corner. Yeah, choices were made in how Cas’s return happened, but after 15 episodes of Dean mourning Cas (and Bobby, and pretty much everything else in his life up to and including Sam by 7.17), the one thing he got back first was Cas. And Cas was the key to beginning to rebuild Dean’s entire life, starting with Sam. And yet... in the same breath Cas returned Sam to him, Cas also disappeared into his own head. He was RIGHT THERE, but he had nothing else to give to Dean right then. All of that led into the buildup to s8, and I think that was really the point at which the narrative began treating Dean and Cas’s relationship as something different, and something more serious.

I’ve been watching early s8 for the last two days, and here’s a little snippet from my angst-ridden chat with lizbob this morning:

mittensmorgulI hate this. Cas, confused: So you think this was your fault?I.e. the moment when it stopped being just Dean and Cas preventing themselves from finishing a conversation, and the narrative itself took over preventing them from finishing a conversation.

mittensmorgulIt may have begun because it was starting to get implausible that they were just that stubborn about talking to one another honestly and openly, but whoopsie that actually made their relationship issues structural to the narrative

elizabethrobertajonesYeah, Ms Tran is like HEY HOW DAREYOU CAN'T FINISH A CONVERSATIONBEEP BEEP

mittensmorguland then in a few more minutes it's Interrupting Moose's turn

elizabethrobertajonesknock knock

elizabethrobertajoneswho's the-INTERRUPTING MOOSE

mittensmorguloh noooooo... go away mooseman! STOP INTERRUPTING.NO SAM, THEY ARE VERY NOT OKAY

elizabethrobertajones:

And their issues went from being a sort of sidebar to the actual narrative structure of the series and became inextricably linked with the larger narrative.

So, fun as it is to go back through the entire series and look for all the destiel along the way, I think that’s most likely when it became a factor that drove the plot, rather than something secondary to the main plot, at least from a structural perspective.

And now, after s13 and going into s14, their relationship and feelings toward one another have become foundational to the actual cosmic structure in their universe. Dean’s grief was powerful enough for Jack to ride across dimensions into the Empty, where even God was unable to tread? Yeah, that’s cosmic. And now Cas is in a similar position dealing with a cosmic, interdimensional dilemma focused on Dean. I mean... it’s literally the foundation of the narrative structure of s13 and s14. Not only are the writers taking their relationship seriously, they’re using it to support the rest of the narrative.

I think this is kinda what you asked, at least? I’ve been typing for a really long time now. D:

#destiel #the scheherazade of supernatural #how the heck to i even tag this otherwise? D:#Anonymous

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