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bakugoushotwife · 9 months

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family man // touya todoroki

a/n: this request was adorable! i love dabi sm and my favorite delusional past time is pretending i can fix him

summary: touya never pictured being a family oriented man, yet he's traversing the aisles of a local grocery store in the early hours of the morning just to satisfy your pregnancy cravings---and he's never been happier.

cw: fluff, domestic dabi, let's pretend everything w him and his family is all good!, uh pregnancy ig

wc: 1.7k

He never thought he would be here. He was honestly surprised he had even lived this long, nevermind all the perks of life he finds himself surrounded by these days. He doesn’t even remember contemplating a future. Even when he was really young and his only dream was to be a hero, he imagined himself alone.

But then he met you. You were…his lifeboat. He would have blown up on his family if he hadn’t stumbled across you in that grocery store that day. Of all the places to fall in love, he thought he was safe at the grocery store. Especially with his appearance and reputation, never in a million years did he imagine a dainty and cute little woman struggling to reach a jar of her favorite pasta sauce, perilously moved to the top shelf.

You sigh in relief when you see him. He swears that’s the first time he’s ever gotten that response from a stranger before. Then you surprise him again when your eyes gleam with recognition, and you still smile.

“Oh I know you! Dabi–League of Villains!” You hum, even adding your own inflection to his affiliation like it was a scary movie or something…not as dangerous. You point up to the jar. “I know it kinda goes against your whole m.o., but would you mind grabbing that jar for me?”

How could he say no to a face like that? You were breathtaking, and he wastes no time checking out the thickness of your thighs and the roundness of your ass before giving you a nonchalant nod. He strolls over, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “True fans call me Touya.”

You laugh at his arrogant face, and that certainly humbles him. You’re gorgeous and you’re unafraid, those two made a dangerous combination. “I’m no fan, Touya.” You hum, leaning against your shopping cart. He reaches up for the jar, and you never take your eyes off of him. He feels it, he knows. He’s a little confused, though he rationalizes your friendliness to pity, maybe, or just a fetish of yours if he had to guess. He holds the jar out, and you make it a point to brush against his fingers when you take it from him, a cheeky grin on your face.

His eyes widen slightly, and he nearly jerks away out of instinct, but there’s a glimmer in your eyes that tells him to pursue this, that there’s something there. So when you offer to let him come home with you to try the pasta sauce you made such a hassle for, he can’t help but give you a lopsided toothy grin, and follow after you.

That leads him here, in the aisles of the same grocery store he stood in five years ago when he met you. A lot has changed since then, he thinks to himself while browsing the store for hot cheetos and chocolate covered strawberries, and the banana mochi they’re always out of. In any other event, he would think you’re nasty. Would he refuse to get it for you? Probably still no, but he would give you hell for it.

But now, he can’t blame you. It’s only his responsibility to get these things for you. It makes your life easier, which definitely makes his life easier. Sure the combo is wicked, but what baby Todoroki wants, she gets. He can’t deny the mother of his child anything, and if their daughter wants this ghastly diet, then he will drag his ass to the store at, he checks his phone, 1:02 AM, to get them for the loves of his life.

He locates the items, and slinks off to checkout. He definitely never thought of kids. Even after you. He just assumed it was a part of his life he would never experience, why would anyone want kids with him? But for your three year anniversary, you asked to try. He was shocked, it took him days to really think about it and try to think of a baby. He struggled. He thought of you holding that baby cousin of yours, but that was different, it wasn’t yours. When he tries to make the baby look like him, he struggles harder. It’s easy to think of the image when the baby looks like you, instead. And he knows you’d make an amazing mother. You have the personality, the love in your heart, the desire. He can’t deny you that. He would be remiss to say he could break things off with you so you could find someone more suited to be a father, but he knows he’s too far in at this point. He could never let you go. So days later, when he comes to you and agrees to try for a real life human baby of his very own, he does it for you. Because he wants to show you he loves you and is willing to compromise. He’s willing to help you and take care of a screaming brat just because he’s wrapped around your finger.

He didn’t imagine how much he would love it. He chuckles as he walks home, bags in hand, banana mochi secured. It’s like his life was separated into before you and after you. Everything he thought of pre-you was thrown out, and he’s been surprised with every twist that’s come after-you. No one would believe him if he admitted the giddiness in his step to get back home to his very pregnant wife, the woman who’s saved his life and made him another. No one would believe it if he told them that he’s spent hours scrolling through baby girl names on google and he actually picked the name your daughter will bear once she’s born.

That’s fine, he doesn’t really need anyone else to believe him. Even when he strolls through the door of your shared home with a loud, begrudging sigh, he grins when he sees your shining face. He can’t pretend like your request bothered him, no matter how tough he wishes he could be in front of you. The sight of you wiggling your hips to get off the couch and waddle over and hug him, seven and a half months pregnant, is enough to make any man feel like he’s won the lottery.

He still remembers the day you told him that you were pregnant. You know how he hates massive celebrations or big flashy statements, so you came up with a more intimate and sweet plan.You just waited for him to get home that day, clutching the test tightly in your fist with a small pair of baby shoes you were able to crochet with all the time on your hands. When he comes in the door and you don’t greet him, he frowns. He’s prepared to make a dramatic scene when he pokes his head in the bedroom and sees you posing with the items. Your grin is impossibly wide and he can’t believe what he’s seeing. It took a while, but here you were, finally pregnant. He was filled with so much excitement but also so much fear, he only choked out a gasp and pulled you into his arms in response. He began to wrack his brain for a solution, on how to be a dad in nine months or less. He wasn’t even sure he was a good husband—but your loving and tender hand on his face brought him back to reality. Your smile is relaxed and you are nothing but ready. He knows if nothing else, you’ll teach him.

But it turns out fatherhood is something that comes to him quite naturally. He baby-proofs the entire house the day you hit six months and he decides to have his sister host a giant baby shower. Even if he isn’t into big events, you are, and you deserved to be doted on and spoiled and given gifts before you gave him the greatest one of his life.

That’s why he holds you like he does now, like he hasn’t seen you in years or like this is the last time he ever will. Because he’s so grateful, for everything you’ve given him and will continue to give for the rest of your lives, but he’ll never know how to tell you that. So he can only hug you tight and dangle the bags of your requested cravings in your face, a mischievous grin donning his features.

“There mama, now baby girl can let you sleep.” He says, resting a gentle hand over the bump you’ve formed. It’s not yet big enough to keep you from hugging, and he’ll relish that for now by running his palm over his daughter’s temporary home.

You cheer happily, digging through the bags and going for the banana mochi first. He chuckles, he knew that you would. He feels the baby kick into his hand upon your first bite, and he shakes his hand at his women. So dramatic. But he can’t deny the satisfaction he feels when he crouches to her level, his gravelly tone low just for the girl growing inside.

“Hey, let mama rest or you’ll come out all lumpy or something.” He huffs, his turquoise eyes flickering up to you when the baby responds to his voice with more kicking.

“She will not be lumpy—don’t lie to her!” You snicker, resting your hand on top of snow-white hair.

He pokes his tongue out at you like it was supposed to be a secret. “I was trying to help ya, now you get what you get.” He chuckles, kissing the top of your belly before rising to kiss you too, hand still on your stomach.

You return his kiss but shake your head. “She kicks because of you, you goober. She’s performing for her dad.” You hum, easily downing the snacks. He contemplates the idea, his heart warming. Maybe his daughter did like the sound of his voice. He hums appreciatively, and sighs his content.

“Well, if yer listenin’, it’s past your bedtime.” He huffs, but he means this to you as well. It’s been getting harder to sleep the bigger you get, so he’s having to be more of an authority on your care than he’d like to be. “Off to bed, both of you.” He grumbles, leading you down the hall for more cuddles, back rubs, head scratches, or even more snacks if that’s what you want, whatever will get you to sleep. His night will be spent wondering if his daughter will look like you like he had always hoped when he finally gets to meet her.

#kyleewritesmha #dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia x reader #my hero acedamia #dabi fluff #touya fluff #toya x reader #toya todoroki

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hihopelessromantics · 1 year

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❤️ and/or 🥳 for the ask game :)

Eeee! Thanks for the ask!

So I started writing fanfiction because, well, I already am a dedicated daydreamer, and the only thing stopping me from turning it into something that gets down on paper is 1) that I’ve been a lurker all my life, avoiding most forms of social media, and don’t have much online confidence and 2) I thought that with the way I daydream anything I tried to write would become a hot mess. Before now I restricted myself to only writing original work as a way to try and make sure that I got any writing done at all. I was also afraid that the online people (bots now I guess) would do that thing where they steal other people’s work and sell it and I already had some of my work deleted from existence by my own mistake, I don’t want any more bad things happening. Growing up seeing people argue “social media bad” and “always on that damn phone” made me very defensive of our generation and optimistic about the beautiful experiences people can have together online, but at the same time, I avoided participating in any of it. I desperately wanted to be considered Not A Lazy Child. Feeling like you have to morally justify every single thing you do in your free time to be considered Good Enough by human standards is trippy. I was adamant about not having or needing a phone until the day I got one near the end of 8th grade, and then I was like hey, you can play music on this thing! I can talk to my friends easier now!

Once I got over the fear of Doing A Thing on the Internet, I started feeling like I’d always belonged in places like this. I mean, I was getting inspiration from Tumblr years before I even had a smartphone. If I had been in online communities as a younger teen and known the kind of welcoming environment that writers can find online, I would have started creating and publishing my work years ago. I hope to publish some of my original work eventually too. I have little hope at this point of actually becoming an author, but if people enjoy stumbling across my work on here, or somewhere else, that would be enough of a success for me. I just don’t want my precious writing to be collecting dust in the google docs for as long as I live. I love writing, I love sharing writing, and I love people who share their writing, so basically, fanfiction is one of the most fascinating art forms I know. It has its own special set of elements. For instance, there's a certain kind of freedom and a sense of indulgence that is difficult to find when writing original projects. The guidelines and restrictions that simply don't exist when you're writing original fiction can challenge you and provide a relaxing space to experiment with new themes and concepts and characters that you've grown to love. Cool stuff! It reminds me why I'm so happy to be a writer. I love imagination and creativity probably more than anything else that exists.

#tag game #That one anon that said that writing scenarios for one’s own desire is perverted made me short-circuit.#A world where someone can't write a little scenario just because they want to is a world I don’t want to live in.#All the fun that anon won't let themself enjoy . . . :(#ask for tag game: why did you start writing fanfiction?

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metalshea · 2 years

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Examining Death through A Perfect Circle's "Blue" lens

Trigger Warning - this post discusses death, drug abuse, and overdoses, and includes a couple graphic descriptions from my time working at a morgue. We are all at different places in our life journeys and have each been impacted by our own unique circumstances and experiences. If these topics could spark difficult emotions for you, please do not feel compelled to read further. Instead go gently and know that “there will come a day when the memory of those you’ve lost will bring a smile to your face before a tear to your eye”.

So it’s been a little shy of three years since my last post. My last rant discussing the spindly and cancerous fingers of the NSBM scene through case examinations of Alcest, Behemoth, and Agalloch was all the way back in January of 2020. In that time a lot has happened: a global pandemic led to my being laid off from my job in big tech, I started a great new job at a startup that has been nothing short of a trip, and, oh yeah, I HAD A KID. So yeah - career advancement plus guiding a small human on the path towards not being a shit head adult leaves little time for outside interests compared to less demanding jobs and… uhhh… not being a parent, I guess? So something had to give somewhere. Sorry Tumblr. It’s not like I was a super prolific poster or that this blog ever went viral, so it’s probably fine, right? Sorry to anyone that did read my stuff–the good news is you now have more words on a page to pour over from a now early-middle aged (holy shit when did that happen?) white dude that would have loved to have been a metal journalist. While we're at it, sorry for that last post I did on A Perfect Circle… kind of, I guess… I mean I’m writing another post about them, right? Anyway, I got super excited about what I imagined to be the parallels between the song “The Doomed” and Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and kind of maybe went down a rabbit hole that was at the time super cathartic but, rereading it now, was probably a bit convoluted.

But here’s the thing, though, I absolutely LOVE A Perfect Circle. They're near the top of a short list of artists who siginificantly impacted my development as both a person and musician, along with the likes of Metallica, Jimi Hendrix, Devin Townsend, and Zakk Wylde. When I first came across APC my musical tastes hadn’t yet expanded to the point where I had even heard of Tool, let alone knew who Maynard James Keenan was. I remember first seeing an ad on either MTV or VH1 (probably both if we’re being honest) for Mer de Noms that had song snippets from “Judith” and I knew I had to get my hands on it. Maynard’s screaming, biting: “Talk to Jesus Christ as if he knows the reason why” lyric immediately resonated with me: the kid of hyper-religious, conservative Catholic parents. I had yet to start learning guitar at that point in my life, but the octaves that made up the main guitar melody were like nothing I had ever heard before in any other song. When I finally scavenged up enough money to buy the CD, the coded letters that were all over the packaging became a new hieroglyphic language that allowed me to write my own hidden notes, and I practiced writing that code near daily. I would go see APC live a few months later in what would be the first ever concert I would attend without an adult (just me and my closest friend on our own making bad decisions that night). The ticket stub to that show is actually still taped to the wall of my parent’s basement along with all sorts of other music posters, guitar ads, and other random mementos from my preteen and teenage misadventures. With Mer de Noms, APC hit that absolute sweet spot of atmosphere, melody, heaviness, avant garde, and mystery to absolutely captivate a young and ostracized adolescent that craved something esoteric to give him a sense of having stumbled upon something special. Hell, if we really want to get into it–-and why not at this point?–opening up a CD case only to find a picture of the lingerie-clad ass of a smoking hot woman on the inner lining was enough to inspire a bit of a sexual awakening, too… Now that everyone is uncomfortable, I should probably mention that the music on Mer de Noms is freaking great. That helped a lot. Probably more than the other stuff. When APC dropped Thirteenth Step in 2003 I was beyond excited but when I actually listened to it, I was actually a bit disappointed. It felt darker, bleaker. I still listened to it on near constant repeat for months, but it made me feel uncomfortable, on edge, and put me into a place that made me start to feel the first twinges of what would become a lifelong battle with major depression. Mer de Noms wasn’t exactly every day listening either–it had its own sense of melancholy and angst–but Thirteenth Step was just darker. And it makes sense that it would be darker: Thirteenth Step is a concept album about overcoming drug abuse and flips between the first person perspective of both the junky and the junky’s loved ones. It’s ambitious, but its heavy shit, man. And in retrospect I’m not sure I had the life experience when it was released to really appreciate what the album was trying to accomplish, and how scary the picture it paints really is at times.

Earlier today I listened to the song “Blue” off Thirteenth Step for the first time in a couple years and it took me on a journey, inspiring a couple of very powerful flashbacks. When I got out of graduate school I worked for a Medical Examiner’s office. I actually worked the overnight shift at the morgue–which was an experience! Part of my job involved performing autopsies, but most nights I was working scene dispatch, performing intake on bodies, cataloging and storing a decedent's belongings, and doing some evidence collection. Occasionally, I would go out into the field to do recovery which saw me traveling across the state and bearing witness to the rawest forms of human agony, grief, curiosity and depravity first hand. My job as a mortuary and forensic technician lasted about two years before I jumped ship to the private sector, but it doesn’t take long for an environment like that to leave a freaking mark. My time also coincided with the start of what the CDC calls the Second Wave of Opioid Overdose Deaths in 2010. Constantly being forced to confront literal death on a daily basis as part of my profession shaped me in ways I think I’m still processing on an unconscious level, and being a “last responder” on the front lines of the then burgeoning Opioid Crisis certainly gave me a new perspective on the world around me.

“Blue” is the fourth song on Thirteenth Step. At this point in the album’s storyline, the protagonist has acquired drugs to temporarily sate their addiction (“The Package”), realized their need for help (“Weak and Powerless”), and are starting to confront the resulting guilt and shame that nags at them (“The Noose”). “Blue” reveals the source of that guilt and describes a memory where the protagonist witnessed a female companion overdosing. Rather than helping, the protagonist watches with fascination while at the same time mentally tries to distance themselves from what is happening. The protagonist doesn’t intervene and the implication is that the woman dies. The lyrics are haunting--“I just didn’t want to know… She’s turning blue”--and the dense and dissonant atmosphere of the song lends itself well to supporting the hazy but all too raw memory.

There were two cases I worked while at the morgue that pull heavily on the threads of my own memories when listening to this song: Myself and a colleague responded to an overdose in a public housing complex. The apartment was far from what I’d call a home. The furniture was spartan at best and was clearly either donated to the renter by well-meaning charities or purchased at thrift stores like Good Will or Salvation Army. The renter was still in the house and was clearly still high–he sat on a couch in the living area off the small kitchen. A police officer was talking with him when we arrived. The body of the victim was in the middle of the kitchen area. Since the room was so intermittently furnished, the corpse might as well have been the centerpiece tying the two spaces together; a macabre coffee table of sorts that would certainly be a conversation piece. When we searched the body e found heroin and a needle in his pocket.

The dead man’s companion–I hesitate to call him friend, I have no idea what their relationship really was–watched us from the corner of his eye as we worked to catalog everything on the body and hand over evidence to the officer on scene. He never said a word. He tried to feign disinterest. He seemed somehow ashamed and tried to hide it. “I just didn’t want to know….” Several months later, I was at the morgue performing my nightly duties when a body was dropped off by one of the funeral homes we contracted to do recoveries during off hours. When I worked the overnight shift, I was alone - literally the only living person in the building--so the funeral homes would help out by picking up decedents from public scenes like car crashes. Like I said, working that job was an experience, man, and trust me when I say I have lots of stories. On this night the funeral home dropped off an overdose victim. This one was a woman; mid-twenties. She had been missing for several weeks. She was found in a building known to local police as a drug house. It was clear that she had been dead for maybe 2-4 days and was in early stage decomposition by the point our paths crossed. Her blood had coagulated, liver mortis was clearly evident, and rigor had released, but she wasn’t yet bloated and the smell was pretty tame. When she was alive it would have been fair to call her pretty. Lying there on the gurney there was no way I would ever call her pretty – there was too much pain: an addict that had gone too far, a desperate family putting in a missing persons report that would never again see her alive, parents who lost their daughter. Whatever attractiveness she had in life was nullified by the symbol of wasted potential, selfishness, and grief laying on the gurney. Her face was still blue.

Listening to Thirteenth Step resonates very differently to me these days. It shouldn’t be surprising having had the proximity to addiction and death that I did. But listening to the album today, especially “Blue”, shook me. Music has a way of doing that–giving us a medium to contextualize our memories. Mer de Noms is a positive walk down memory lane for me. It is the nostalgic Member Berry that encourages me to reminisce about what was one of the most transformative points in my life: when I started playing guitar, dating girls, sneaking out at night, and going to concerts. I listened to that album right as I began laying the groundwork for what would become my adult personality, and it shaped me deeply. Thirteenth Step encourages a different set of memories, ones that are equally valuable in their own way, I guess, even if they are certainly uncomfortable. What was originally a somewhat disappointing album release from a band that I deified is now terrifying and existential to me–and I both adore and fear it.

Wrapping up this post I have to say, I’m not really sure why I wrote it. I’m even less sure about why I’m choosing to put it up on a public forum for literally anyone to read. I guess I can package this up as an exercise in contrasts, or a story about how music contextualizes our experiences and personal growth, or even how a piece of music can have different meaning to us at different points of our lives. But I think more than anything else this post is cathartic and allows me to give structure to what were two very significant and still raw personal experiences and start to come to terms with them? Maybe? I guess if I could leave you with any parting thoughts they would be: Music is powerful. Drugs are bad. Hug those close to you often. Thank you for reading. Horns up, Shea \m/

#a perfect circle #metal #heavy metal #hard rock #drug abuse #death #overdose

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wrenqueenisboss · 3 years

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DSMP Angsty Imagines - React to Your Death pt. 2 --- Bench Trio

Part 2 to my series of “dsmp boys react to your death”: Pronouns used: they/them (if mentioned) Warnings: cursing, fight scene (implied), description of wounds, death, grief, threatening, weapons Note: this is strictly platonic as the bench trio members are all minors Words: 1.1+

The list: c!George c!Bench Trio - (you are currently on this post) c!Wilbur c!Dream c!Technoblade - (coming soon!)

Y/n, Tommy, Ranboo, and Tubbo had always been inseparable. Never was there a moment when any of the four weren’t together. Just a chill day around the server? You bet they were walking around and causing chaos, mischievous smiles upon their faces. One of them had some mental shit to deal with? You’d bet the other three were right there, soothing and distracting. There was a war? Hell yes. The four would be fighting side by side, back to back. If one member of their team stumbled, the others would pick up the slack. That’s just how they were. Until they couldn’t be.

You see, the world doesn’t wait. It doesn’t pause the chaos and cruelty and destruction just so four teenagers can grow up with a proper childhood. No one puts away their swords, lowers their fists, or settles arguments. That just isn’t how life works. Yeah, it’s fucking unfair.

It’s unfair that Tubbo became president at such a young age, that Tommy had been manipulated and exiled, that Ranboo’s own mind had been taken over, that Y/n had been put through so much over the course of their life. It’s unfair that the best friends were forced to fight in a war. A war that shouldn’t have been going on in the first place.

They gathered their gear together, helped one another don their enchanted armor, polished their weapons as a team, flashed fake smiles in an effort to lighten the god-awful situation.

“Ya know,” Y/n said as they ran the whittling stone across the blade of their diamond sword. “I’m pretty sure we’ve been through worse.”

Ranboo barked a laugh, his smile brightening both his green and red eyes. “Nah, I’m pretty sure this is the worst.”

Tubbo gave Y/n a sympathetic smile as he placed his hand on Ranboo’s shoulder. The enderman hybrid paused for a moment. “Give Y/n a break. They’re trying to lighten the mood.”

“Thanks, Tub.”

Tommy looked up from his own sword with a frown. “There isn’t any fucking point in lightening the point. We’re in a really shitty situation and that’s that.”

It was true. None of them had any real experience with combat. Well- that isn’t exactly true. All four of them had lost at least one life to violence. They’d all tried to fight back, but they were too weak for it to have any effect. They still were. Against people like Dream and Technoblade - anybody, really - they were at a huge disadvantage.

Tubbo did what he could to break the grim atmosphere. “The only way we can have any hope of making it out of this alive is if we stick together. We fight side by side and no one gets left behind.”

Y/n scoffed, even as their heart dropped to the pit of their stomach. “You all have a much greater chance of surviving. Remember, I'm on my last life.”

Everyone went silent. It wasn’t as if that was a surprise. They were all there when their friend had been pushed into the lava, when they’d lost their second life to blood loss a few years later. Everyone knew that Y/n was on their last life, but it was still scary to be reminded.

“We're not going to let you die, Y/n. And I’ll be damned if you give up and let yourself die,” Tommy’s words were forceful. Yes, they held a kind sentiment, but his tone was all business. That’s what happens when you’re forced into war way before you should.

Ranboo nodded. “We live together. We fight together. And if we have to, we’ll die together.”

Tubbo threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Goddammit! No one is dying!”

Oh, how wrong he would soon be.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Tommy, Ranboo, and Tubbo were right there when Y/n was struck down. Right there as the arrow pierced their chest, the tip sparkling red with their blood.

Tubbo let out a shrill scream of anguish, Ranboo froze and then dove to catch their body, Tommy’s gaze darkened to murderous malice as he let a whispered swear fall from his lips.

Y/n’s body was carried to a cave a few blocks away from the fighting. The three boys sitting around their still form, assessing the wound. Honestly, what was there to assess? Y/n had taken an arrow to the chest and died. That was it. It was cruel how simple their death was.

Ranboo squeezed their hand, heart breaking as he realized their warmth was steadily fading. “I can’t believe they’re actually dead,” he whispered hoarsely, voice cracking with emotion. He couldn’t cry though. Another one of the universe’s cruel curses.

Tubbo was already crying. His shoulders already shaking. “We were supposed to live together. We still had so much time. They still had so much time. And now... I guess they don’t.”

Tommy was pacing the cave anxiously. His blond hair, already messed up from the fighting, had been even more wrecked by him fervently running his fingers through it.

Everyone looked like a mess. Clothes and uniforms were ripped and dirty. There were more than a few bloodstains. Skin was bruised (badly, in some places) and sported a tapestry of cuts and scrapes that would later heal into thin scars. Not that anyone was new to scars.

The speed of Tommy’s pacing increased before he froze completely, only looking his friends in the eye for a fleeting heartbeat. His gaze returned to Y/n’s still body before flitting about again. “They’re not dead,” he muttered.

“What?” Tubbo’s voice shook as his tears fell.

“Y/n isn’t dead. They can’t be.”

Ranboo rose from his spot at the body’s side to comfort his distraught friend. “Tommy, you’re in denial. Y/n’s dead. They were killed-”

Tommy swatted away Ranboo’s hand before it could even connect with his shoulder. “They aren’t fucking dead!” he shouted. His head dropped forward as he stared at the ground. “Y/n promised. They wouldn’t break a promise like that.”

“Y/n didn’t have a choice.”

Tommy was too busy forming some stupidly reckless plan in his head to actually hear what one of his friends had said. But Tubbo and Ranboo recognized that look in Tommy’s eyes. Recognized the gleam of mischief, the flash of lividity, the sparkle of determination.

And deep down they knew it would be useless to try and stop him, but they tried anyway.

“Tommy,” Tubbo began. “What you’re feeling is perfectly normal, Big man. It’s, like, the five stages of grief.”

“I don’t want to hear that therapy bullshit.”

Ranboo tagged on, not letting Tommy protest more. “You’re already going through some of them right now. Denial and anger. Now you just-”

Tommy silenced them with a hand. “Fine. I’ve passed denial, I sure as hell am still angry, but they really should add another stage to that list.” He began walking towards the entrance of the cave, back to the fighting.

“Revenge.”

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seijorhi · 3 years

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Inexorable ♕

My birthday present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy and my contribution to her birthday bash collab you can find here. I love you, you’re incredible and I hope you like this i even wrote smut for you smh

Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

tw: dub-con, stalking, unhealthy relationships, very questionable decision making, smut, nsfw, um... implied murder?

He’s sitting on the steps outside your apartment when you get home from work, a lit cigarette dangling between long fingers. He brings it to his lips, the bright cherry red tip glowing as he takes a nice, slow drag and you scurry on past.

Not a word passes between the two of you, but olive eyes follow you up the stairs regardless, just like always. His name is Iwaizumi – Iwa – but you only know that because you’ve heard his friends yelling it down the hallway. In the three months since you’ve moved in, you haven’t so much as introduced yourself to the guy, but like most strangers crammed into the same shitty place there’s some kind of a routine between the two of you.

Why he religiously chooses this time of night to take his smoke break is beyond you, but like clockwork you’ll arrive home, having walked back from the bus stop and Iwaizumi’ll be there waiting for you, cigarette in hand.

Well, not waiting, just… there. Black leather jacket with a hoodie underneath, there’s a cut above his eyebrow tonight that he hasn’t bothered to clean, a purpling bruise colouring his jaw. Whatever dealings Iwaizumi’s tangled up in, you don’t like to think about too much, but you know it can’t be anything good. His friends dress like him, all have the same ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe. You’ve seen their scrapes and bruises too – the weapons that stick out from the waistband of their pants – though you’re always quick to avert your eyes when they catch you staring.

You’ve heard them snickering about it when you hastily dart past, all but slamming your front door shut.

And it’s not that you’re scared of him. There are people who play at being dangerous, and ones who are. Iwaizumi doesn’t strike you as somebody who enjoys playing, and while you don’t doubt for a second that he is dangerous, he isn’t to you. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt or scare you – you’re not even a blip on his radar – but what Iwaizumi is, at least as far as you’re concerned, the reason your step quickens and you can’t bear to meet his eyes, is intimidating.

Tall and broad shouldered, with those piercing green eyes. You’ve only seen him smile once, though it was more a quirking of his lips than anything else – usually he just stares, his expression halfway between impassive boredom and a scowl.

No, Iwaizumi doesn’t scare you nearly as much as the bouquet of flowers you find sitting on your doorstep, a handwritten note tucked in between the roses.

—

The calls come next. You block one number and he rings from another, followed by endless texts. Cute little messages you suppose are meant to brighten up your day.

Hi baby, love the skirt you’re wearing today. You know blue’s my favourite on you, always look so damn pretty. It’s like you’re trying to drive me crazy haha

Morning babe, I was thinking about you last night. You remember that trip we always said we were gonna take in the summer down to the lake? I can’t wait to bring you there.

Why won’t you answer my calls? I just wanna talk to you, hear your voice again. Let me make things right. I love you.

Don’t you miss me? I miss you. So, so much… You look beautiful today, by the way.

Baby, I love you, but you really shouldn’t be staying out so late with your coworkers for drinks. I just want you to be safe.

They’re not all soft and sweet though. Sometimes he just sends you pictures, and those creep you out most of all.

You change your number, and it doesn’t make a difference.

—

It’s hard for you to try and convince yourself that you’re imagining the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as you go about your day. You know he’s watching you – the messages and the voicemails just drive that home, but what else are you supposed to do?

You can’t just pack up and run again, and what good is a restraining order when you have no proof he’s violating it – and by the time you do, it probably won’t help you.

Kazuma’s always had patience, but only up to a point.

The final nail comes the day you arrive home to find one of Iwa’s friends heading out from his apartment – the tallest, with the curly dark hair. Barely spares you a glance until he seems to think better of it.

“Didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, but the words make you falter, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

And for a moment, he looks half surprised that you’ve bothered to reply – so far you’ve done nothing but pretend to ignore him and Iwa and every last one of their friends. But the mirth slips from his expression quickly enough once he gets a good look at yours, “Blonde guy with a shitty dye job, tall-ish. Saw him leaving your apartment an hour ago.”

But to walk out of your apartment, he had to have first gotten into it.

“Guessing he wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he says, eyeing you with an odd look. But you don’t respond and after a short pause, he simply shrugs and continues on his way.

You couldn’t care less.

Kazuma was in your apartment.

Leaving flowers at your doorstep is one thing, but now he has a key.

And it feels like there’s somebody else moving your body as you stumble towards your apartment, your hand shaking so badly that you fumble and drop your own keys twice before you finally manage to slide them home and push your way inside.

It’s waiting for you inside your bedroom, sitting atop your pillow; a pretty blue box wrapped with white ribbon.

Your phone flashes to life a minute later; an incoming message from an unknown number.

Did you like your present, baby?? I hope you don’t mind, I kinda borrowed a little something too…

With your heart in your throat you watch those three bouncing dots as the image comes through.

A pair of red lace panties – yours – scrunched up in his fist, wrapped around his–

Your stomach heaves, and you barely make it to the bathroom in time before you’re hurling your guts up.

—

You’ve always had an impulsive side, and more often than not it’s landed you into trouble.

So you force yourself to calm down and think before you do anything rash. You head to the police station the very next morning to file a report, fresh off a sleepless night. The officer seems sympathetic, but you know before she even opens her mouth that there’s nothing they can do.

There’s no proof of a crime committed; nothing was taken (nothing you can prove, at any rate) and because your door wasn’t tampered with and the windows weren’t smashed, there’s no evidence of a break in. She suggests changing your locks and going to stay with some friends or family for a few days and you don’t know whether you want to laugh or burst into tears.

And instead of going back to work, you call in sick.

Iwaizumi isn’t sitting on the front steps when you get back home, and why would he be? You’re not supposed to be home for another few hours – so instead you head to his apartment door and mustering every last ounce of courage you possess, you raise your fist and knock.

Silence greets you.

You wait for a moment, a heartbeat, not daring to breathe, but there’s no answer. Which, really, shouldn’t be that surprising considering it’s mid-morning on a Tuesday, but you can’t help the crushing sense of disappointment that washes over you. The thought of trudging back to your apartment to sit and stew alone for the next few hours while you wait for him to come back makes your skin crawl. You can’t just sit still and twiddle your thumbs, not when–

Abruptly, the door in front of you swings open, and you find yourself face to face with a glaring Iwaizumi. His expression falters, momentary surprise flickering across his eyes at the sight of you standing in his doorway.

This time you don’t avert your eyes. Your heart’s pounding, your hands clammy and trembling by your side, but this is the only choice you have left. And so as a single eyebrow cocks and Iwa falls into a lean against the doorframe – the only invitation you’re gonna get – you steel your nerves, take a deep breath, and speak.

“I-I need a gun.”

To his credit, Iwaizumi doesn’t snort. “You planning on shooting somebody, princess?”

They’re the first words he’s ever spoken to you, and they make your cheeks burn, your stomach twisting into a knot. It’s not a dismissal, but there’s a tinge of amusement colouring his tone and you can’t help but wilt a little under the weight of his gaze.

Better sense would tell you to turn around, walk back to your apartment and curse your own idiocy for entertaining this stupid idea to begin with But Iwaizumi’s staring at you like he’s expecting an answer and all you can think about is the fear that gripped your heart last night, how you couldn’t bear to turn the light off, half terrified that at any moment Kazuma would come back – and this time he wouldn’t be satisfied with just some panties.

You can’t live like this, and you can’t just pack up your life and wait for the same thing to happen in the next place, and the one after that. Kazuma won’t stop, you know that.

“I…” you chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze so that you’re staring at his chest instead of those piercing green eyes. “I don’t, I-I’m not–”

“A killer?” he interjects, and you almost flinch at his bluntness“Yeah, no shit.”

Taking another breath in through your nose, you force yourself to meet his gaze, even as your nails bite into the palm of your hand and your heart skips a beat. “I just want…” but you can’t even bear to say the words aloud, not without your voice shaking like a leaf. “It’s for protection. I don’t know who else to go to. Please,” you beg.

Iwa exhales heavily, a crinkle appearing between his brows as he frowns, “This got anything to do with the blonde asshole that’s been sniffing ‘round your place?”

Your bewilderment must show, because he snorts, finally stepping back to let you inside. “Mattsun told me,” he says, answering your unspoken question.

The unmistakably hard edge to his words takes you a little by surprise, but you nod anyway, gingerly taking a seat on the couch when he jerks his chin at it. “Oh, uh, yeah. He’s my ex, kinda. We… didn’t end well.”

It’s the understatement of the century, but you somehow doubt a man like Iwaizumi gives two shits about your past relationship with a stalker. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as the imposing man settles down beside you. “So does this mean you’ll get me a gun?” you ask. “I can pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have some money–”

Iwa scoffs, cutting you off. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near a loaded gun, pretty girl, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for.”

You reel back as if he’s slapped you. But Iwaizumi’s staring at you with that steely expression and blood rushes to your cheeks. Why are you surprised? Did you actually think he was going to help you – a veritable stranger – just because you have some sob story? Why even bother letting you in if he was just gonna make you feel like an idiot? And for a moment you forget the gnawing terror that’s kept you up all night, letting yourself become awash with indignation. You have no control over the hurt noise that leaves your throat, but the ‘Fuck you’ that follows; that one’s intentional.

You don’t have time to regret the insult as you jump to your feet; his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist, jerking you to a halt the moment you try it.

“I didn’t say you could go,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the shiver that rolls down your spine at the unmistakably commanding tone. “Sit.”

Wordlessly, you comply.

“Look at me.”

Again, there’s that harsh undercurrent in his voice that tells you he’s not asking, and you lift your gaze with a tense swallow. Iwa still hasn’t released your wrist, the warmth of his calloused palm searing against your skin.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, olive eyes studying your face intently as you force yourself to sit still under the appraisal. “I said that I wasn’t going to give you a gun, not that I wasn’t going to help.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, “What–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snaps, cutting you off once again. And as you inhale sharply, you realise that it’s not anger you see burning in those pretty eyes, but sheer, unrelenting fury, an icy rage that you don’t understand, that terrifies you as much as it enthrals.

Because you feel like it’s on purpose. Like he’s finally letting you get a glimpse of what silently seethes beneath that impassive mask of his. Are you scared now, sweetheart?

“H-how much?” you ask breathlessly, eyes wide and heart pounding.

“I don’t want your money,” he says quietly, his voice low and husky. And just in case there was any confusion as to what he does want, his other hand comes up to your face, a broad thumb tracing along your bottom lip as he cups your cheek.

Iwaizumi leans in slowly, as if he’s giving you time to shove him away and tell him that you’re not that kind of girl. Part of you – the part that’s terrified, frozen stiff and regretting the very moment you decided to step into his apartment and cross that line – wants to. Even now, as those hooded olive eyes drink you in, his warm breath ghosting across your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake, you’re afraid that it’s too late for that. You’ve opened a door that should never have been opened and there’s been a fundamental shift between you and him. There’s no going back for either one of you.

And the other part of you revels in it.

“Don’t kill him,” you murmur the second before his lips meet yours. “Not unless you have to.” You don’t even know if he heard you, and as Iwa deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours you find that you don’t care. You lose yourself to Iwaizumi as he leans closer, gently pushing you to lie back on the couch.

He isn’t satisfied with just your lips for long, planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh. His teeth nip at your collarbone as he busies himself unbuttoning your shirt, but your gasp sounds more like a needy whine than a plea for him to stop.

He laughs a little at that, his chest rumbling against your stomach, but he makes no moves to slow down. Instead he turns his attention to your bra, his hands far less gentle with the delicate lace than he was with your shirt, and then his mouth is on your tits, licking, sucking, biting. Tomorrow, your skin will be littered with pretty red and purple marks, and judging from the single minded focus glinting in his eyes as he stares up at you, that’s exactly his intention. Iwa drags the flat of his tongue along the swell of your breast, circling it around your nipple before he sucks it into the wet warmth of his mouth, and the whimpering moan you give him in response is a thing of beauty.

“Good girl,” he croons. “Such pretty, perfect tits.”

Your back arches when he cups the other in his hand, and you cry out when he roughly tugs the sensitive bud. He waits until the sting fades and you relax, sagging back against the cushions with relief before he does it again, harder this time. The sharp, searing pain ripples through you, your breath seizing in your chest as you try in vain to writhe away from his touch, but it’s followed by a flood of pleasure so strong it almost makes you dizzy. The fleeting kiss Iwa bestows on the supple flesh a moment later could almost be taken as an apology – if not from the satisfied smirk curling at his lips. He has no desire to be gentle with you, not today or any other day. That’s not who he is.

Large hands ease down your side, reaching for the hem of your skirt. Iwa doesn’t bother trying to pull it off of you, merely flips it up, exposing your soft thighs and the delicate panties lying underneath.

In an attempt to be helpful, you lift your hips to allow him to drag the lacy scrap of fabric down your legs and discard it, but Iwaizumi seems perfectly content with leaving them where they are. Even so, it takes you by surprise when his mouth descends on your cunt, the wet, pink muscle laving along the seat of your panties. You shiver in response, one hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in those spiky brunette locks, but if you’re about to tell him to stop teasing, the words are robbed from you when Iwa pushes the fabric aside and buries his face in the heat of your pussy.

His nose nudges at your clit and you jerk at the first lap at your folds, already shamefully wet for him. There’s no rhythm or rhyme to the way he eats you out, letting a long, thick finger slide into your cunt while he suckles and licks at your clit, but you can’t deny that it’s working. Your thighs tremble and quake beneath his hands, every second of his attention dragging you closer to unravelling entirely. And you’re awash with pleas, little whimpers and moans as he chuckles, the low vibrations making your fingers tighten in his hair as another burst of pleasure flutters through you. Your hips rise and fall against his face, desperate for more when he finally slides his tongue inside of your heat, eager to taste your cunt properly. You want more, you’re desperate and aching for it; but Iwaizumi’s grip tighten bruisingly against your thigh in warning.

You’re at his mercy, and he’s in absolutely no hurry.

The first time you cum, it takes you by surprise. It feels like an endless build-up, Iwa’s tongue lapping at your pussy like it’s heaven sent, his mouth working diligently to drive you insane. Every touch feels unbearably good, from the long, slow strokes to the way he drags the tip of his tongue along your clit. Your toes are curling, your tits heaving with the desperate breaths you choke down, and all of a sudden his mouth latches onto your clitoris and he sucks hard at the swollen nub. You almost black out right there and then, stars bursting behind closed lids as pleasure wreaks havoc over your body. But as good as that feels, it’s not until you open your eyes and catch sight of the hunger blazing in Iwaizumi’s eyes that you tip over the edge, cumming into his waiting mouth with an earth shattering moan.

At some point he must have let you go to rid himself of his own clothes, and your panties, but you’re boneless, basking in the afterglow as he shifts you once more, lifting one of your thighs up to hook your leg over his shoulder as he settles back onto the couch.

You just watch through hazy eyes as Iwaizumi gives his thick cock, already hard and flushed an angry red, a few cursory pumps. And his eyes are fixed on yours as he leans down, guiding the tip to your sopping cunt.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, princess,” he grunts out.

Warning bells sound in your head once more, your gut clenching uneasily, but any protests you might have voiced fall by the wayside as he slowly presses into you. It’s the girth, more than anything else, that takes you by surprise. It hurts, stretching out your poor, oversensitive cunt as his cock fills you up, inch by agonising inch.

Iwa hisses from between clenched teeth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to breathe through the pain. It won’t last long, you know that, and until it does you just have to grin and bear it.

You can feel it twitching inside of you, every ridge and vein, the way your slick walls hug his cock. His thumb strokes along your hip, soothing you as your face screws up and another whimper slips out. You think you hear him say something, praise maybe, or encouragement, but all you can focus on is the way his cock throbs inside your pussy when he finally bottoms out and stills.

And for a moment, he doesn’t move. A small kindness, letting you become adjusted to his size before he fucks you the way he’s dying to.

“Look at me,” he says, and while his tone isn’t as sharp this time, it’s no less of an order.

Your eyes flutter open as Iwaizumi turns his head just a fraction without breaking eye contact, pressing a soft kiss against your calf. His eyes are glazed with feverish lust, pupils blown wide, almost swallowing up that thin ring of olive green entirely, and you wonder whether you should feel afraid right now.

You don’t have the words to describe it, the distant unease that seeps through you as you stare into the eyes of a man who’s clearly not in control anymore. If you screamed right now, tried to fight back or stop him, would it make a difference?

Do you actually want to?

“You’re mine,” he growls out, drawing his hips back and slamming them forward ruthlessly as you choke on a scream.

He’s relentless, hissing out curses as he fucks you like a rag doll, filling your wet, tight little cunt again and again and again. It’s all you can do to fist at the edge of the cushion, one hand wrapping around his back, your nails raking down his skin, drawing blood in their wake.

And Iwa doesn’t care, tossing his head back as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Iwa,” you plead between gasping breaths, clinging to his broad frame. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, not as he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up, hauling you closer so he can fuck you deeper. And you can feel his cockhead rutting against your cervix with every vicious thrust, the painful stretch of your cunt as you’re forced to take his fat cock. It hurts, it does, but holy fuck you can’t focus on that when his fingers slip between your legs and he starts to rub at your puffy, oversensitive clit.

You’re whining, mewling, hips shifting as you rock against him, desperate for more friction. “Please, Iwa,” you moan.

The sound of it, the lewd slaps of skin against skin, the wet squelching as he drives his cock home again with an unforgiving pace would be enough to make you burn with embarrassment, but you don’t care because you’re quickly losing yourself to mindless pleasure. Every stroke fills you completely, it’s hot and thick and the drag of his cock against your plush walls, the way it kisses that sweet perfect spot with every thrust is driving you to insanity.

“Fuck!” you cry, clenching tightly around his length as you hurtle over the edge for a second time. You’re gushing, convulsing, back arched up off the couch, lips parted and–

Iwaizumi stops with a growl and you barely have time to process it before he’s flipping you onto your front, yanking your ass up into the air and hammering his cock back into your swollen, abused little pussy. It’s a bruising pace he sets as he chases after his own end, your name falling from his lips in harsh, breathless grunts.

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become sloppy, your cunt sucking him in and pulsing around his cock. And you don’t have the mental capacity to beg him to pull out, not as his muscular chest collapses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist and he pumps you full of his seed.

Neither one of you move straight away, both fighting to catch your breath and calm down in the afterglow of your orgasms. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach. It’s an intimacy that doesn’t belong here, but you find yourself arching into it, a small, tired smile curling at your lips as Iwaizumi lavishes you with affection.

And you can only whine softly when he finally pulls his cock out and stands, lifting your boneless form up into his arms, chuckling quietly when you bury your head into his chest. Your head’s empty, your thoughts a jumbled mess as he carries you into his bedroom, depositing you carefully onto the bed.

Iwaizumi leaves you there like that, and when he returns a few minutes later he’s dressed again. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something oddly content about his expression as he stops by the doorway and takes in the sight of you; naked and thoroughly fucked out, curled up amongst his covers.

“Iwa?” you ask sleepily, stretching your aching body to make yourself more comfortable as you nestle further into the soft mattress.

He doesn’t answer you as he strides in, but you watch through half lidded eyes as his expression hardens. Stopping by the bedside, Iwaizumi reaches for you. You think he’s going to cup your cheek again, maybe run his fingers through your hair, but instead his hand slides between your thighs, gathering up some of the cum that’s seeped from your pussy with his fingers and slowly pushing it back inside of you, humming when you whine and shift under him.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” he tells you, your gut clenching as you remember why you’re in this position in the first place. “You don’t leave this apartment until I get back. You don’t answer the door, you don’t tell anyone you’re here, you don’t leave this bed unless you have a goddamn good reason. Understand?”

Weakly, you nod.

“Such a good girl for me,” he breathes, and this time when he leans over he does kiss you, sweeping your hair back from your face before his warm lips meet your cheek. He lingers there for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away with a sigh.

And as the door swings shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place behind him, you begin to question whether you’ve made a mistake. You don’t doubt for a second that Iwa will follow through with his promise. Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from now, he’ll find Kazuma; him and his friends, and they’ll make sure he stays away. And until they do, you won’t leave this apartment.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that despite your pleas, Iwaizumi’ll kill him.

Not because that’s the only way for this to end, though you realise that that’s always been a possibility, but because of what you glimpsed in his eyes today. Stupidly, you’d thought you had Iwa pegged. But there’s something that lurks beneath that facade, something more dangerous than you could’ve possibly imagined and the moment you opened the door to Iwaizumi it sunk its teeth into you and now you’re not sure if it’ll ever let you go.

And as you lie back in Iwaizumi’s bed, covered in the marks he left behind you wonder whether you’ve merely traded one monster for another. Perhaps it was inevitable. Inexorable.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: stalking #i've said it like 48 times today #but ily fairy #you deserve the world #if you haven't gone to wish her a happy bday #GO NOW

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 52: Tattoos

When he left the Wizarding World, Harry hadn't thought too much about what would happen to Draco Malfoy after he testified for him at his trial.

If pressed, he probably would have assumed that Malfoy would have continued in his father's footsteps. He would have imagined well tailored suits and robes, long blonde hair, the same aristocratic nose tipped in the air.

So, perhaps his jaw all but hitting the floor when he saw the other man for the first time in five years was understandable.

And it wasn't the fact that he was walking into the muggle bar that Harry worked at that shocked him, it was the fact that Malfoy had trimmed his hair short on the sides and left the top long; it was that he'd dyed it hot pink.

It was the fact that his left arm had a muggle tattoo covering the dark mark that had once been there with beautiful, bright flowers; new life coming out of death. It was the dragon tattoo peaking out of the collar of his shirt, that Harry guessed, was shaped around his namesake constellation.

It was the loose, black v-neck, muggle t-shirt tucked into skinny jeans that were cuffed just above his ankles. And the three earrings in the cartilage at the top of his right ear.

It was that he looked nothing like the stiff, tidy, pretentious twat that Harry would have envisioned him growing into and it made Harry wonder what else he was wrong about.

Malfoy caught sight of him a few second later and literally froze in place.

"What can I get you?" Harry asked, giving him a little smile.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, cocking his head uncertainly, "You look like someone I used to know."

(Read more below the cut)

And that was fair, too, Harry supposed. He didn't look anything like the scrawny, desperate teen he'd been the last time Malfoy saw him, either. Harry had grown a good six inches since then, his shoulders had filled out, he'd grown his hair long because the curls were less messy that way, he'd grown a beard that he kept short and tidy, and he had a few tattoos of his own. "You look like someone I used to know, too," he replied, "But you can't possibly be the same person that I thought I knew and I'm sure that I'm not quite what you thought either." He tilted his head at Malfoy, "What can I get you?" he repeated.

"What would you recommend?" Malfoy asked as he slid into a bar stool with a touch more caution than Harry liked.

"Do you like sweet drinks?" he asked, "I have this cotton candy drink that we make with cranberry juice and raspberry vodka," then he added, "And cotton candy, obviously."

"That would definitely be something I've never tried before," Malfoy replied with a little smile.

"Done." While Harry was making the drink he said, "So what brings you so far from home?"

Malfoy cocked his head, "I left home ages ago," he said. "Disowned, as a matter of fact."

Harry frowned as he reached under the bar to fetch the cotton candy, "What? Why?"

Harry saw him lift one shoulder casually before having to stick his head into the cupboard below to reach the bag of cotton candy in the back, "Apparently, Malfoys are allowed to make all sorts of mistakes and commit all sorts of atrocities, but being gay was just one step too far for them."

Harry bashed the back of his head against the bar in his haste to stand up, "Wait, you're-?" he started before registering just how badly that had hurt, "Ouch, fuck," he said, rubbing the back of his skull.

"Here," Malfoy murmured, holding out his hand, "Let me."

Harry leaned over and Malfoy gently cupped the back of his head and murmured something under his breath. A moment later a warm, tingly feeling suffused Harry's head and all of the pain disappeared.

"Wow," Harry said, rubbing the back of his skull again and feeling for any tender spots, "That was amazing."

Malfoy shrugged and Harry went back to working on the drink. "I was training to be a healer," he confessed softly so no one would overhear, "But then I had one too many people refuse to let me help them because of-" he broke off and shook his head, "Well you know."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry said with a frown as he slid the drink across the bar. He was about to say more when Ben, one of his regulars, came up to the bar for a refill, "Hold that thought," he said, making his way over to get him another bourbon.

"This," Malfoy said, pointing to the drink Harry had made him when he returned a few minutes later, "Is actually quite tasty, Potter."

He laughed, "No need for the tone of surprise, this has been my job for nearly five years now. And you can call me, Harry," he added.

The corner of Draco's mouth tilted up, "Oh I can, can I?"

Harry nodded, "And I think I'll be calling you Draco."

"Bold of you," he said but he was smiling so Harry didn't take him too seriously.

"Gryffindor," he replied, pointing to himself with a wink. "So tell me about yourself, Draco," he said.

And to his surprise and utter delight, Draco did. He sat at the bar, sipping that martini before switching over to lemonade, all evening, telling Harry about his life and asking questions about Harry in turn.

One things led to another and by the time Harry was getting ready to leave, Harry was really not ready for the night to end.

"Can I walk you home?" Draco asked, apparently he wasn't ready for it to end either.

Harry smiled at him and nodded toward his house, they set off down the street talking about nothing. He only lived a few blocks away and they found themselves standing at the bottom of Harry's steps all too soon.

"Will you punch me if I kiss you?" Draco asked him.

Harry shook his head with a smile he couldn't quite hide, and leaned forward to meet Draco halfway. The moment their lips met, Harry's veins felt like they'd been set on fire. He reached out and clasped the fabric of Draco's t-shirt in his hands and pulled him forward, crashing their bodies together.

"Come inside," Harry begged against Draco's lips.

Draco pulled back, brow furrowed slightly, "You want this? With me?"

"Godric, yes," he groaned. "Please."

The other man gave him a breathless little smile and Harry dragged him up the stairs and straight to the bedroom.

Afterward, Harry got up to order them some pizza and when he returned, Draco was laid on his back on the bed, his pink hair fanned out across the pillow, Harry couldn't help but think that his body looked more gorgeous than any work of art he'd ever seen. And Harry sat up beside him admire him better, "I thought this one was your constellation," he murmured triumphantly, stroking his fingers over the dragon that curled over his collarbone and up his neck.

"Well spotted," Draco said, a smile in his voice.

He brushed his fingers over the snitch on Draco's chest, "I've got one of these, too," he murmured, leaning a bit so Draco can see the snitch he has on his own hip.

"Yes, I noticed," Draco replied, giving him a little smirk, "What does it say under it?"

"I open at the close," Harry said.

Draco hummed, "You'll have to tell me the story sometime."

"I'd like that," Harry told him, surprised to find that it was true since he'd never wanted to talk to anyone about the war. He trailed his fingers over the flower that had been tattooed over Draco's heart. "For your mum?" he asked.

He gave him a sad smile and nodded, "The black narcissus."

"These are for my parents," he told him, pointing to the antlers adorned with lilies along his collarbones.

"What are these ones?" he asked, trailing his fingers over the Marauder's map style footprints on his bicep and shoulder.

"These," he said, twisting to show Draco that they wrapped around his shoulder and onto his back, "are names of the people who have held me up, some of them still living, and others who live on in me." He grinned at him, "I'll show you the map they're modeled after the next time I have it out."

"Do you have any others?"

"Yeah," Harry said, collapsing onto his back so he could show Draco his ankle, "Deathly Hallows on my ankle."

Draco's fingers brushed lightly over his skin and Harry's spine tingled pleasantly.

"Do you have others?" he echoed

He nodded and rolled over onto his stomach and Harry had to hold back a gasp, "Beautiful," he whispered, trailing his fingers lightly over the wings covering Draco's shoulder blades.

"They're to remind me that I am free. I made my choice to fly instead of staying shackled."

"They're beautiful," Harry repeated.

Draco reached back and pointed to his neck and Harry's eyes followed to a compass. "To remind me that I choose the direction of my life from here on out."

"I love that," Harry replied, flopping back down on the bed next to Draco. "I'm planning my next one."

"Oh?" Draco asked, turning his head to the side and resting it on his forearms so he could look at Harry.

Harry nodded, "A constellation as well, Sirius, and wolfsbane incorporated somehow."

"Are all of yours for people, then?"

"Yeah," he replied, about to say more when the doorbell rang. "That'll be the pizza. Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?" he asked as he stood up and started looking for a pair of pants to put on to answer the door

"I should go-"

"Draco," he said, leaning in and stealing another kiss, "Stay. Please."

"For how long?" Draco asked.

The doorbell rang again and Harry stumbled into his boxers, "For as long as you want. Stay forever if you like."

And he was surprised to find that he was only half joking.

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Please go look at this GORGEOUS art by @pato-roldnart. I'm completely in awe of how talented they are. It's just like I imagined it and I am totally in love!

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Day 51: Parents | Day 53: First Anniversary

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry drabble #drarry ficlet #tattoos #I am weak for tattoos #and piercings #Day 52 #enjoy!#getting together

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 3 years

Text

Coffee Shop Kisses

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Request: something soft with Yelena from @bright-molina

Summary: After moving back to her small Ohio hometown, the reader bumps into an old friend at her favorite coffee shop.

Warnings: none ?

A/N: Happy incredibly belated Birthday Bianca!!! Sorry this took so long for me to write but I really hope you like it!! This fic has everything: the gays, some light pinning, and chai lattes !

Masterlist

___

You couldn’t believe you were back in your small Ohio hometown. When you moved away after high school it was never your intention to come back but clearly, fate didn’t have the same plans as you drove through your childhood neighborhood.

It was nostalgic, driving through the familiar streets despite the changes in the neighborhood since your childhood. While the houses had mostly remained the same, you knew many of their occupants had changed. The Browns no longer lived in the house two doors down from yours, having retired to Florida not long after their children had moved out, and many other family’s you’d known growing up had followed suit. Others had downsized to smaller houses in other parts of the city, no longer needing the extra space. Now the neighborhood was filled with new families, young parents taking advantage of the location to raise their children.

Still, the atmosphere was largely the same, and if you let yourself you could almost imagine that the kids playing in the front yards and the street or biking through the neighborhood, calling out to friends as they passed, were the kids you’d grown up with.

It was strange, being back home. It felt stranger still to call it “home.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a routine, despite the lingering nostalgia. You woke up every morning with just enough time to get ready and drive downtown to work, if you were lucky you’d end up with a few extra minutes to stop into your favorite coffee shop from your teenage years, which was conveniently located a couple doors down from your office. It was simple, sure, but it worked for you.

On the weekends you always made a point to walk to that downtown coffee shop with a book or some other activity, preferring the ambiance and the subtle noise of the building and its other patrons over the still silence of your house. Plus they had amazing drinks so you really couldn’t lose.

Normally you enjoyed taking in the hustle and bustle of the small town around you as people completed their weekly errands, but that day you were lost in your head as you walked along the sidewalk. It wasn’t as if you were thinking about anything in particular (when reflecting back later you’d merely blame it on having had a long week at work), but rather than enjoy the people watching as you normally would, you let them all pass you by without a single glance, all the way down the street and into the line at your coffee shop. You ordered your usual without much fanfare, still having the presence of mind to drop your change into the tip jar on the counter. It wasn’t until you had gotten your drink that you were thrust out of your thoughts, quite literally.

You had only just turned around from the counter, about to start scanning the cafe for a seat when you were knocked to the ground, your drink spilling in your hands.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Disoriented and still in a haze, the thick Russian accent of the woman who had spoken caught your attention.

A hand reached down into your line of sight and you took it gratefully, managing to keep the pitiful drops of unspilled chai latte in your cup as you were pulled to your feet.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” she offered though you barely heard her.

Now that you were back on your feet you got a better look at the woman who had bumped into you. She was of average height and had her blonde hair pulled into a double ponytail. You didn’t know any Russians but you could’ve sworn you’d met before.

“Do I know you?” You blurted out before you could think and the other woman blinked at you in surprise, brows lifting slightly.

“Perhaps,” she shrugged, “I used to live around here when I was younger.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, certain you would’ve remembered growing up alongside a Russian family, everyone you remembered was as American as they come. It was a small town in Ohio, after all.

“So did I,” you spoke slowly, still trying to ponder it out in your head. “Over on Brown.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, now scrutinizing you as well.

“I grew up on State Street.”

That’s when it clicked for you. You remembered them; family of four, two daughters. Natasha used to ride her bike down your street all the time which meant the woman in front of you must be…

“Yelena?”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, holy shit! Your sister rode her bike through my mom’s flowers one time by accident, pissed her off for the whole summer. Plus, we went to preschool together.”

“Wait, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“In the flesh,” you replied, spreading your arms out dramatically.

Yelena took that as an invitation to really study you then, eyes flitting up and down as she fully took you in.

“You grew up quite nicely,” she spoke, tone appreciative and you found yourself blushing.

“I- I could say the same thing about you,” you stumbled over your words, feeling flustered. “I don’t remember you being Russian.”

You mentally cursed yourself for once again blurting something out before you could even think about it.

Yelena laughed at that and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at the sound. She had a cute laugh. It was fitting.

“Yes, well, my ‘family' and I were actually part of a Russian spy organization, sent to infiltrate a nearby SHIELD facility for some information, so,” she shrugged and you laughed at first, assuming she was joking before you realized she wasn’t laughing along.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Why would I lie?”

You fumbled around with your words at that, unable to come up with a proper response but feeling as though you needed to say something anyway.

“How about I buy you a drink and you tell me about it?” You finally settled on saying and Yelena’s brows lifted again in surprise.

“Sure, but I’m buying the drinks. I owe you for spilling your first one.”

You nodded in agreement, somehow having forgotten all about your spilled drink in the excitement of reconnecting with an old friend. An old friend who was very attractive, if you were being fully honest with yourself.

With new drinks ordered and retrieved, the two of you made your way to a small table by the front window of the cafe. True to your agreement, Yelena explained to you that her “family” when she’d lived in Ohio wasn’t actually her family at all, the entire thing fabricated for their mission, and that after their success she continued to work for the organization before finally getting out as an adult. She skimmed on a lot of the details but you got the sense that the entire ordeal was traumatic for her so you didn’t press. Though, you were quite amazed that the woman across from you (and the tiny blonde girl you’d played dolls with as a kid) was a former spy and assassin. In comparison, your own life story was much less exciting, though you guessed it also held much less trauma as well. Still, Yelena asked and she listened intently as you explained how you’d wound up back in your hometown all these years later.

After that, the conversation seemed to flow seamlessly from one topic to another, and it was so nice to talk to a friend and catch up that you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you went to take a sip from your long-forgotten chai and found it ice cold. You checked your phone and were surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed and while you were planning on spending much longer at the cafe anyway, it still caught you off guard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you from something?” Yelena asked, having noticed you checking the time.

“No!” You rushed to reassure her before flushing slightly at the knee-jerk reaction. “No, I just hadn’t realized how much time has passed. It’s been really nice to see you.”

“It’s been nice to see you too, perhaps we can do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that a lot.” You tried to fight the heat that you felt rushing to your cheeks once more. You weren’t sure if she meant it the same way you did.

“Me too,” she replied softly, ducking her head so that her face was out of view. “I actually do have to get going but maybe we can meet here again next week?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, trying not to seem too eager and failing miserably. “It’s a date.”

Once again the words slipped out on their own accord and you were left scrambling to do damage control.

“I- I mean like, y’know-”

“A date is good,” Yelena cut you off with a smirk, though you could’ve sworn you could see your own nerves reflected in her eyes.

“A date then,” you agreed, flashing a nervous smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” She stood from her chair with a smile, pausing on her way to the door to press a quick peck to your cheek, and then she was gone.

You sat there, still as a statue, for quite some time afterward, your fingertips lightly grazing over where Yelena’s lips had been moments before. You really loved this coffee shop.

#yelena belova #yelena x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova fic #black widow #mcu #mcu fic #black widow movie #erin takes requests #bianca my love #erin writes

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absolute-flaming-trash · 3 years

Text

I decided to expand on this little thirst post, and chose to be very self indulgent about it in the sense that Reader has Raynaud’s Phenomenon.

No smut this time since I can’t write it to save my life right now, sorry loves, but you get Mahito being the creepy motherfucker that we all know and love.

Pairing: Mahito x Fem!Reader

SFW, Horror I guess

Word Count: 3′476

Warnings: Noncon touching, Implied threat of noncon, Death (Mahito uses Idle Transformation on someone), Implied suicide (not reader), Budding yandere behaviour, Manipulation, Fear, Experimentation

It was raining.

Heavy drops fell from the sky, pelting the ground and passers by hard enough that it hurt. Everyone moved with either their hoods drawn up tightly over their heads, or umbrellas pushed slightly into the wind so their cover wouldn’t be ripped from their hands.

Everyone except for a singular anomaly amongst the densely packed bodies.

Mahito had been bored when he stepped onto the University campus, almost unbearably so. His experiments were only entertaining up to a certain point. There were only so many times he could repeat the same experiment over and over again, eventually even the simpering cries of the abominations he created had become irritating.

What else was there to do but wander?

Certain areas of Tokyo drew the attention of the Special Grade Curse more than others. While the edges of the urban areas were easy for picking targets for experimentation, the heavily populated areas of the city were just… thrilling.

It was really only a matter of time until he made his way onto school property.

Rain droplets ran down his face in rivers, but he didn’t care. How could he when watching hundreds of students running around was entertaining him so much? Each and every one of them hurriedly running from point A to point B like what they were doing was important. Like their lives actually mattered.

He had spent enough time hanging around the campus to notice that the student traffic would pick up at certain times - every 10 minutes before the next hour. Young bodies running from one building to the next, narrowly avoiding one another as they all but ran up and down the stairs.

One thing he would never get tired of is the fact that despite how densely packed these people got, he was constantly avoided. Humans parted like the red sea, avoiding the spot where he stood no matter where he moved to. Perhaps it was simply their individual path, but the more likely reason was the vibes he put off. It was only nature for organisms to avoid things they perceived as dangerous - whether they could see them or not. It only furthered his belief that curses were better meant for this world.

So you could imagine his surprise when you bumped into him, nearly knocking yourself to the ground in the process.

“Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t see you at all, please excuse my rudeness-”

He simply stared at you, taking you in as you stumbled over your apologies and begs for forgiveness. You were such a strikingly normal thing. Hair wet, but in the process of drying as your equally wet hands clung to an umbrella - the price tag still fresh and new on the handle. A damp book bag hung at your waist, bleeding more water into your shirt and pants. Whatever skin was visible had gooseflesh all over, clearly showing how poorly you had dressed for the weather at hand.

Such an underprepared, oblivious little thing.

You were perfect.

“-again I’m so sorry, I can really be a ditz sometimes, please if there’s anything I can do to make up for it let me know.”

“Actually,” a feigned look of confusion spread across his features, “I was trying to figure out where I’m supposed to go.”

“Oh!” You smiled, eager to do something to help. “I’ve been here a while, so I know most of the campus, especially the upper part. Where are you trying to go?”

“I don’t know.” His face pulled into an exaggerated frown, “I just know it’s upper level.”

You hummed, “Here, can you hold this for a moment?”

You handed him the umbrella as you dug into your bag for your phone, pulling it out and quickly searching up the campus map on Google.

“Here,” You pressed yourself close to him so you could share shelter from the rain. “I’m headed towards here” - you pointed towards a building marked 400 - “If yours is along the way I could show you how to get there. Do you recognize any of the numbers?”

Oh this was just too easy.

“I think I’m supposed to go to the same place.”

“Oh sweet!” You clicked your phone off and slid it back into your bag with ease, taking the umbrella back from him wordlessly - but keeping him under it with you. “Are you taking Animal Behaviour as well?”

He only nodded as the two of you set off, smiling inwardly at the odd looks that were occasionally sent your way from those who eavesdropped. To anyone else, it appeared as if you were talking to yourself and he was living for it.

“I’m a little surprised I haven’t seen you before,” you murmured, taking the first of the few hundred steps to the upper level buildings. “Generally I’ve been with the same people since first year.”

“Transfer,” he grinned, matching your pace of trying to take two steps at a time. “Decided I needed a change of scenery.”

You let out a bark of laughter, “Well you’re gonna get plenty of scenery here, we are built on a hill after all.” You let out a groan immediately after, “No matter how many years I attend here, I’ll never get used to these fucking stairs.”

At the halfway point you gave up your attempt to rush up the steps, panting heavily from the exertion. Mahito had yet to even let out the slightest hint that he was physically strained.

“All the Bio buildings are up here.” You explained breathlessly, “The place started off as mostly science based, and then as more departments got added they expanded downwards, lucky bastards” The last part muttered under your breath.

Mahito didn’t respond further than a hum of affirmation, still watching you as you walked.

You were so trusting, so willing to share an umbrella with a complete stranger. You were so naïve, not even taking the time to take in his appearance and realize he did not look the part of a student, let alone notice the stitches that adorned his body.

It made him wonder just how much he could get away with.

“What did you say your name was again?”

You blanched pausing at the top of the steps, “Ohmygod how rude of me, I’m Y/N.” You offered your hand out to him.

His grin was unnaturally wide when he clasped your hand in his, “Mahito.”

You smiled back sheepishly, “Well Mahito, I hope your impression of the campus isn’t horrendous so far” You flexed your fingers after retrieving your hand back, frowning slightly before gesturing to him to continue to follow. “Animal Behaviour is on the second floor, so we get even more stairs. There’s two ways up, but I take the long way around.”

“Oh?” You could practically hear the smile in his tone.

“I’m lazy and don’t like the stairs, so I climb the ramp, even if it’s on the other side of the building. Plus there are less people around that side.”

You just continued to deliver. “Not a fan of people, are you?”

“No, I am not.” You held the door open for him with your foot, closing your umbrella and shaking the excess water off of it before following behind him.

“I guess that makes me special, then?”

“What does?”

“You not liking people.” He followed you through another door that led to a decently sized lecture hall. He noted how you ignored all the available seating near the front, instead choosing to head straight towards the back of the hall. “Does that make me an exception?”

“Perhaps.” You smiled, “I don’t know if I quite like you or not yet, so the jury is still out.”

You said the last part with a giggle before your smile quickly dropped and you shivered, staring back down at your hands which were puffy, the skin exhibiting a slight blue/purple tinge.

“Okay, I’m absolutely freezing and I can barely open and close my hands. Can you watch my stuff for a little bit?”

Mahito plopped himself down in a chair, kicking his wet feet up on the seat in front of him; uncaring that he was soaking it as he folded his hands behind his head. “What do I get if I do?”

You rolled your eyes, “My undying gratitude and me owing you one, if you really want to play the favor game, I’ll be back in a sec.”

You walked past him just in time to miss the pure thrill flash through his eyes, spreading into a wicked smile that completely broke his façade. You had no idea what you had just done with a few sarcastic words, twisting his body and watching in glee as you disappeared from the room.

But as a human expression would say, and one that he enjoyed so much, ‘No take backs’.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with you just yet, but favors were always so fun to collect. It had been a while since a person could see him that wasn’t a Jujutsu Sorcerer, let alone a female of the human species.

He pulled out the ties on his hair and wrung it out, pale blue locks becoming a shade lighter as the excess water was squeezed out onto the floor behind him while he tried to recall the last human he didn’t kill immediately. There had been this wonderful little bakery cashier who had been so entertaining to mess with for several weeks after he discovered they could see him, but they had… taken care of themselves before he got to have any real fun. He flicked his hair back behind his shoulders, a reminiscent pout on his lips. He supposed every human had their breaking point when it came to the throws of insanity, but he hadn’t expected them to go out that quickly. It was a pity, really. For him.

The thought about not being as rough with you briefly came up, but it was gone as soon as it came. No, he wanted to see just how much you could handle.

The thought alone made him shiver in delight. It was just a matter of what he should do first.

He glanced up at the large analog clock that hung at the front of the lecture hall. You had been gone for nearly 10 minutes now, and he was getting bored again. Already you were disappointing him, which was a shame. You’d just have to make it up to him later.

It didn’t take him long to find the bathrooms, slipping inside silently and closing the door behind him, pushing the lock shut with a soft ‘click’.

You didn’t look up from your place at the sink, attention solely focused on the stream of water hitting your hands that were gradually gaining their colour back. He felt a sensation of elation he hadn’t experienced in days as he approached you, his own body nearly vibrating the closer he drew.

His excitement instantly deflated when another body came into his view. He frowned, almost sneering at the new person who had appeared, walking over to join you at the sinks - engaging you in small talk as they did so. His sneer gave way to a new emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on at the way you smiled at the stranger. Giving them the same level of kindness that you had given him.

That wouldn’t do.

His actions were swift, occurring with practiced ease as he rushed forward, placing a hand over their face before you could even register his sudden appearance.

“Idle Transfiguration.”

Your expression went through a delightful series of confusion, shock, and horror as the person beside you had their form twisted and transformed into something that could no longer be recognized as even remotely human. You could only stare wide eyed at the scene, the remains of the person beside you letting out a warbled cry of agony; twitching violently before finally collapsing on the floor.

Mahito sighed, letting the disappointment fully show in his frown. “They always die so quickly” He delivered a kick to the corpse as he spoke, “Although I suppose I was a little rough with that one.”

You were still silent, unmoving as you processed what just happened, save for the tremble that wracked your entire body from pure terror. Mahito’s attention quickly switched back over to you.

“Look at you shaking like a leaf, you must still be cold!” He cooed with feigned ignorance, pressing his front against your back and resting his chin on your shoulder, taking your hands in his and holding them under the continuous stream that was now forgotten to you. “Let me help you.”

Your hands were already warm, the blue and purple virtually gone from your nail beds, but that didn’t stop him from holding you in place, rubbing the pads of his fingers over your hands as you remained in shock.

“I’ve been practicing, you see. Trying to make it so when I shape a human’s soul they don’t die so quickly.” He grinned into your shoulder when your breath hitched in fear. “It’s still very much a work in progress, the longest I’ve gotten them to last has only been a few minutes.”

The temperature of the water was now beginning to hurt your hands, but he refused to let you pull away. “It’s gotten so dull recently, but now here you are… such a change of pace, so refreshing.” You jerked your head to the side at the sharp pitch of his giggle in your ear, “You’re just what I was looking for.”

You were able to rip your eyes away from the corpse on the floor to meet his face in the mirror, tears beginning to prick at the edges of your vision.

You still said nothing.

“Awwweee, why so quiet? You had so much to say on the way up here!” He lifted one of his hands to stroke along your cheek with false tenderness. You flinched away immediately, tears falling down your face as you squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself for the same fate as your pupil.

But nothing came except for the foreign, rough texture of his fingers pressing against the skin of your cheek, running along the shape of your jaw.

“Hmm, still cold.” He trailed his hand down your neck, back along your arms leaving fresh goosebumps in his wake. “I can help you warm up some more if you’d like?”

He could practically hear your poor little heart hammering against your ribs. You elected to ignore his words once more, hoping to whatever god existed that he didn’t mean what you were thinking he was, and that he wouldn’t push it further.

Luck seemed to be on your side when he glanced down at your hands. Your fingers were now bright red, but your palms and parts of your wrists held onto the near frostbitten-like shade of purple as before.

“Why do your hands get so purple, Y/N?” He seemed to have such genuine curiosity in his voice as he continued to rub his fingers over your knuckles. “I’ve only ever seen humans get that colour in my experiments.”

You were beginning to hyperventilate at this point, your brain finally catching up with you and the ongoing events. Mahito sighed, dragging out your name in a singsong tone of impatience.

“It’s uh…” You swallowed thickly trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “It’s a c-condition.”

“Oohh, really now?” He smiled at you in the mirror, urging you to go on.

“N-nothing too s-serious.” You let out a humourless chuckle, more tears falling down your face. “I’m just s-sensitive to the cold.”

“Does it make you have a st-st-stutter as well?” His high pitched laugh made you flinch again.

“Please-”

Mahito cut you off with a loud whine, “Begging already? That didn’t take very long.” You gasped as you were spun around, the small of your back being pushed against the wet porcelain of the sink.

It was then he could tell you were finally looking at him properly. Your eyes frantically taking in as much information about him as you could, probably so you could report him to the authorities later on. Your gaze eventually locked onto his eyes, unable to look away. Whether it was out of fear or some strange form of awe, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he was glad you were taking an equal amount of interest in him - even if it was for entire different reasons.

He adored the way you held your breath as he leaned in towards your face, sobs trapped behind tightly closed lips while you tried desperately to keep your composure.

You were like a little bunny rabbit caught in the claws of a cat playing with its food.

He tilted his head, watching how your gaze would break away temporarily to look towards the door. He considered stopping here. Maybe he should loosen his grip on your hands enough for you to contemplate making a run for it. He had locked the door, but it was heavenly to think about you fumbling with the lock and making it out the door before he could catch you; letting you think you could escape from a monster like him.

It was so, very tempting indeed…

But that would have to be a pleasure for another time.

“What are you begging me for exactly, hmm?” He was close enough that he knew you could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. “For your life? I’d be disappointed if you were, you were just starting to be entertaining as well...”

It was difficult to keep your voice from cracking when you finally spoke “Wha-what do you want?”

“That’s more like it!” You couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden switch in his tone from sinister to enthusiastic.

“I wasn’t completely lying about never being here before, that part was true.” He leaned back a touch in thought, “Originally I had no plan in mind when I arrived here, however you, my lovely little Y/N have given me a wonderful new idea for my experiments!”

He grabbed one of your hands, lacing your fingers with his and yanking it up to his face. The sudden force jolted you forward, a yelp leaving your lips as you had to make the conscious effort to grab onto the sink for support, and not the Curse in front of you.

“What you’re going to do for me, as a favor,” He could not stop the grin spreading across his face at the way your eyes widened in realization and horror, “is you’re going to find someone and bring them to a location of my choosing at the end of every week.”

Your eyes were darting back and forth, eyebrows pinching together in skepticism when he didn’t continue. “I-is that all?”

“For the f-first part!”

It took nearly everything you had not to claw at his skin when he pressed your fingers to his cheek. He could feel the warmth rapidly depleting, returning to the same cool, nearly inhuman temperature he felt the moment he shook your hand.

“You’re going to help me with my experiments, Y/N. Write down each and every little thing that happens as each one progresses, that’s what you do after all? As a budding scientist? I doubt ethics should be a problem since you hate people so much.”

You felt yourself shaking your head before you could stop yourself, fresh tears pricking the edges of your vision, “You’re insane.”

Mahito’s grip tightened on your hand, yanking you forward when you tried to pull away from him with a sigh, “Ah ah ah, you do owe me, remember?”

You chose silence once more, instead staring into his heterochromic eyes as indication that you were listening; waiting for whatever else he wanted.

He did not miss the flash of defiance that was gone almost as soon as it came.

“I will give you details later once I decide how I want to start, so in the meantime you can relax.”

If you weren’t so focused on controlling your breathing, you would have laughed at the absurdity of his statement.

“Is that all?”

“One last thing.” He leaned forward once more, pressing you back against the sink to the point you were nearly bending backwards.

“You’re not going to breathe a word of this to aannnyyybody, okay? Just a secret between you and me! If you do…”

He didn’t need to elaborate, you were already nodding frantically. He giggled, moving your fingers so they ghosted over his lips.

You had to bite down on your own to keep your whimpers contained as he pressed them to your knuckles.

“Good girl.”

Tag List: @prettycutebunny, @my-child-gaara, @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes, @shorkbrian, @biby-24k, @ao-writes-filth, @forcefulkitten, @eleventhdoctorsangel, @siphite, @agent-cupcake

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

Pls say more bout those headcanons I’m curious 👀

Done and done!

Potions: Gojo Satoru/Geto Suguru/Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.5k

tw: NSFW (drunken sex)

masterlist

Gojo Satoru

"I really thought..." you trail off with your words as you stumble into the apartment, cradling your purse carefully. A short laugh escapes your lips. "I really thought you were excited to go out tonight."

"Nah," Satoru exhales, slumping on the couch in the living room. "Didn't really want to be there with all of those..." He twiddles his fingers in the air, making some motion that refers to the upper-class donors who crowded the ballroom.

You close the door to his place and try your best to balance in your heels as you walk toward the couch. But halfway there, you trip and fall flat on your face into the pillow on the couch, legs extended on the floor behind you.

"Fuck," Satoru giggles, choosing to lay on the plush fixture instead of helping you up, which you make note of. You resent the lack of help, but you slowly crawl up to a seated position, looking at the man through squinted eyes. "You're an ass."

"Huh," he huffs. "Heard that one before." You watch him remove his bowtie and jacket, tossing them onto the floor and blowing a raspberry before peering over at you. "You look like you need help getting out of that outfit." You know it's a flimsy excuse for him to try and get into your pants, but you don't care. You like it when Gojo slides his long fingers down your back and unzips you from the cagey dresses, thus freeing you from your fabric bonds. So you allow him to do just that and then pull your shoes off, tossing them in the same pile as his jacket and tie.

"When I was younger, I used to imagine that drinking would be fun," you breathe, and he laughs at your disappointment.

"So I'm guessing you waited until you were legally able to, huh?"

"Of course," you answer, looking over your bare shoulder at him as he slips the silk shirt out of his pants. "I was a good girl."

"But now?" Gojo asks, coming behind you and wrapping his hands around your upper arms as he trails kisses over your shoulders.

"But now..." You think. Are you a good girl still? Or has Gojo corrupted you to the point of no return? "I don't think I'm so good anymore."

"I don't think so either," he whispers, turning you around and pushing you back onto the couch. Your head rests on the arm of it, while he leans down to kiss you, his hips cradled between your thighs. The kiss is sloppy and hungry, but you enjoy it all the same because Gojo isn't the kind of guy who just lets you lay like a ragdoll in his arms.

One hand pulls your right knee to your chest, and you feel the growing bulge against your stomach rub back and forth, your eyes drifting close as he grinds against you.

"You're so fucking bad," Satoru moans, kissing down your neck. "But you always taste so good." which is obviously the prelude to him eating you out. Your heels rest against his broad back as he runs his tongue across your cunt and then back again, sucking at your wetness jovially. You suck in your breath and hold Gojo's head with both hands as he eats you out, allowing yourself to enjoy this moment with your boyfriend.

You reach down to grab his chin and pull him up to meet you again, kissing his lips and tasting yourself. Then pants, boxers, socks are removed, and Gojo's cock presses against your cunt before sliding in with a little resistance. He immediately begins to pump into you, and both of you echo each other with moans and grunts. His cock slips in and out of you, kissing your cervix before sliding against your walls and back in.

"Satoru," you breathe, clutching him close. "You feel amazing."

"So do you," he exhales, hips driving into yours. "I just want to be inside of you all night long."

Geto Suguru

"You really know your way around a man," Suguru mumbles, one hand in your hair while you lick up and down his shaft, knees resting on the floor as he sits on his chair. His eyes watch you suck on his rock-hard cock, tongue rolling up and around his tip lazily. "God damn," he hisses, leaning his head back.

"You like it?" Geto tightens his hands in your hair, and grunts long and hard. "Maybe I should stop."

"No." HIs head shoots up and you smile, kissing the tip of his cock. His reddened cheeks puff out momentarily as you take off your shirt and slip your skirt down your hips, stepping out of it and sliding onto his lap. "Oh..." You lean forward and press your lips against his repeatedly, both of you kissing each other casually as you slide your slick against his length.

"Baby, I love you," you whisper, sinking onto his cock until you can't take any more of him.

"I love you, too," Suguru whines while you bounce up and down on his lap. "God, you're so beautiful." His hands raise up to your breasts, which are still cold from the beer bottle he'd been holding earlier. You anchor your hands into the fabric of the couch behind him and roll your head around, relishing in the feeling of Suguru's length stroking your insides.

Your first orgasm comes pretty quickly, your body already flushed with excitement from your earlier drinking. You spasm around him, leaning your head onto his shoulder and rolling your hips up and down to extend your high. Suguru grabs them quickly, slamming you back down onto his cock and looking up at you with parted lips.

"I tell everyone you're a goddess," he states, eyes roaming over your face in awe. "My goddess."

"Su--" You know you shouldn't be shocked by his admission - Suguru praises you all the time - but you feel grateful, anyhow. But he stops you with a deep kiss, pressing your body against his chest, tangling his tongue with yours.

"You're always going to be my goddess. No matter what."

Nanami Kento

Nanami doesn't get drunk. Ever.

But you did. And that's how you found yourself hanging onto the man as you walk up the driveway into your house, mumbling words to a song you heard on the radio minutes before.

"Babe..." you drawl, and Nanami hums as he places the key in the door, the other arm holding onto your waist. "Babe, do you think we'll ever have kids?"

"Y/n," Kento breathes, switching on the light in the foyer and walking you past the living room. "We are perfectly capable of having children. We just need to talk about it and plan it out."

"What if we..." you hiccup, then giggle. "What if we have twins?"

"Then we will be great parents to two children."

"Do you even want to be a father, Ken?" you ask as he slides the silk dress over your shoulders and onto the floor.

"I do," he reassures you, looking at you in the mirror and pressing a kiss to the space between your neck and your jaw. "But only when we're ready, my love."

You climb into the bed, pulling the covers over your body. You reach a hand out to your husband, smiling, and Nanami takes off his tie before sitting on the bed beside you. You take his hand and kiss his knuckles one by one, which makes him stretch his hand open and caress your jawline lovingly.

"I'm so drunk," you admit, and Kento chuckles, kissing your cheek. "But I want to make love to you. If you'll let me."

"Of course," he breathes into your ear, and you sit up, trying to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. "Slow... slow," Kento whispers, holding your hands in his and guiding you. One button turns into two, then into five, then into seven, and then you're done. Nanami pulls off his shirt and drops it to the floor, then pushes you against the sheets with a soft hand. "Let me take care of you."

"I'd never let you do anything else," you breathe, and he laughs, a welcome sound in your muddled mind.

Minutes later, his hips are pressing into yours from behind, a hand caressing your neck as he whispers soft words into your ear.

"You're such a beautiful woman."

"Please, Ken..." you whine, and he whispers,

"You want this? You want me to make love to you?"

"Oh, god, please," you answer. He removes his hand to pull off his pants, then parts your legs, shifting you onto your knees. When he slides into you, your entire body reacts by relaxing into the bed and letting go. Nanami replaces his hand, holding your backside against his chest and slipping in and out of you gently. His teeth graze your earlobe, and you whine again, holding onto him for dear life.

"I'll make you a mother soon, my love. But for now, I just want to enjoy having you all to myself."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami kento x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #getou suguru #nanami kento

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smells-like-mettaton · 3 years

Link

Rating: T (for inherent neutral ending angst)

Summary: Toriel's old house feels like a mausoleum. She will gladly ignore chisp crumbs and lumpy mattresses for a place that feels more like home. (Queen Toriel ending fic for Soriel Week 2021.)

Word Count: 5211

XXX

The bedroom was exactly how she left it. Her bed pushed up against the gray wall. A book about snails on the wooden desk. A knit sweater with the embroidered words "Mrs. Mom Lady" in the wardrobe.

Even after all this time, she could barely look at it without her soul splitting in two.

She'd known this wouldn't be easy. She hadn't seen this house in over a century. Still, she wasn't prepared for how Asgore had sealed up her old room like a tomb, a photograph of the day that everything went terribly, horribly wrong.

At least the last child was safe. They should not have had to take a life to save their own, but she doubted Asgore had given them a choice. Her own soul felt more numb than anything. To her, Asgore had died a century ago.

What was done, was done. And as usual, she was too late to do anything but sweep up the dust.

She backed through the doorframe, shutting the door with a quiet click. She would have to return eventually, but for now, she yearned for a place with fewer painful memories.

"Hey, Your Majesty." A voice startled her as she attempted to escape the foyer. Luckily it was a voice she would always recognize.

"Hello, old friend." She turned and smiled at the monster leaning against the stair railing.

He was smaller than she expected, with that deep voice. Not that that was a bad thing. As for him being a skeleton, that had been apparent from the abundance of bone puns.

"You know the formality is unnecessary," she told him softly.

"Is it?" He shuffled from foot to slippered foot.

In all her time of joking with him through the door, she had never expected him to be so cute.

"Didn't want to assume, old lady."

He winked, and she felt a weight lift from her chest. At least one monster would still treat her like a person, and not like a mythical figure returned to save them.

"Toriel," she introduced herself for the first time. He had to have heard already, but between rushing to the palace, scattering Asgore's dust, comforting their—her people… she hadn't had time to seek out her friend.

He seemed to feel comfortable walking right into her home, though. Did he ever visit Asgore when he was here? Her friend seemed like the type of monster who went wherever he felt like, and Asgore, for all his flaws, had never turned a monster away from his home.

"Sans." He held out a bony hand. "Sans the skeleton."

"Nice to meet you, Sans," she tested out the name and clasped his hand with her paw.

A loud pthbbbbbt echoed through the empty hall. Her eyes widened.

"Wow, Toriel. That's, uh, some way to make an introduction." He winked.

She squinted down at the inflatable object in his hand, the source of the farting noise. Then she pretended to ignore it.

"It certainly is. I was not aware that skeletons were capable of flatulence."

His eyelights gutted for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"Your jokes are even better in person," he said once he composed himself.

His laugh set her soul fluttering. In all their conversations through the door, he'd never laughed like that. Maybe she should have tried fart jokes sooner.

"I am always happy to tickle your funny bone." She smiled, and his face tinged blue.

"Happy to be tickled. But, uh. I guess that's not all I'm here for?"

Her breath caught in her lungs. Of course he would not visit without a reason.

"I suppose not. Would you like to have a seat?"

"It's nothing that serious," he assured her quickly. "I just thought you'd want an update on the kid."

"You've spoken with them? They are still here?" She tried to keep the hysteria from her voice.

How could they have taken Asgore’s soul and not returned home? Had the Barrier proven too powerful?

"No—geez, I'm making this sound worse." He ran a bony palm down his face. "They’re definitely gone. Papyrus tried to call them nonstop. Besides that, you know the big stuff. The king's dead."

Her lips drew to a thin line, pulling tight across her fangs.

"I can hardly fault them for that."

"Right." He stuck his hands back in his pockets. "I gotta be honest. The way the kid looked when I last saw them… I don't think they did it."

Her brow furrowed. She was inclined to hope that the child had not chosen violence. They had been so sweet, so eager to talk and joke with the monsters of the Ruins, so quick to hug her even after she’d fought them. It was hard to imagine them striking down Asgore.

"But… then what do you think happened?"

Sans shrugged. "Wish I knew. I kept watch best I could, but…"

"I could not expect you to come between them and your king." As much as she wished he could have. She had hardly expected him to agree to watch over the human at all.

“Couldn’t have even if I wanted to. These bones aren’t as sturdy as they look. Maybe I shoulda listened to my bro and drank more milk...” He grimaced and glanced away. “Anyway. Like I said, I don’t know what happened. Just. Be careful, okay?”

“Careful?” She blinked.

“Yeah. You never know.” His gaze flickered to a potted golden flower on the end table next to the stairs.

“Sans. If I did not know better, that would sound like a threat.” She crouched down, so she could better meet his eyesockets. “Is there something you are trying to tell me?”

“Man. First I rip one in front of a lady, then I threaten her. I’m makin’ a great first impression.” He rocked back and forth on his slippers. “Look. Toriel. I don’t wanna scare you, ‘specially since today must’ve been hard. Real hard.”

His eyelights bored into her irises. She found herself needing to look away.

“It has certainly been… interesting. Moreso than any day since I last saw this place.” She suppressed a shudder.

Change. Her life had been constant for so long. There would be no more of that, now. Hopefully that would be for the better, but only time would tell.

“Yeah. Being flung away from everything you’re used to… don’t imagine that’s a cakewalk. Don’t want you to worry about freaks hiding in the shadows on top of that.”

Somehow, she felt he made more sense when he was on the other side of a door. Knock-knock jokes had a formula. Just another normalcy she had forfeited, she supposed.

“Please, Sans. If you believe I am in danger, you may say so.”

“Fine. So.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help a snort.

“Alright, I suppose I walked into that one.” She smiled, despite his warning. “Under normal circumstances, I would say I could handle myself. But I must admit you are more updated on the state of the kingdom than I. Do you have any information that could help?”

“...Not really?” His grin turned sheepish. “You look like a tough lady. I bet my bones are rattling over nothing.”

“I would still humer-us you.”

He gave her a funny look. “You’re actually taking me seriously?”

“Why would I not? You are my friend. Perhaps… my only friend, at this point,” she admitted. It would be foolish to ignore a warning, even if it was based on gut feeling. Or, whatever skeletons had in place of a gut.

“Well. Uh. If someone, something, was behind the king’s… yeah. If it wasn’t the kid, whoever else it was might still be around. So.” He coughed. “Sounds stupid when I say it like that, huh.”

“It does not. I think it is sweet that you are worried.” He wouldn’t be able to see her blush, thankfully. It had been a long time since anyone had looked out for her.

“Geez, Toriel.” He rubbed the back of his skull. “You’re gonna ruin my reputation.”

“What reputation? Are you typically a monster with a heart of bone?” she teased.

“Nah. I just don’t worry. Too much work.” It was difficult to tell if he was joking. “Guess I can make an exception this once, though.”

“Why, thank you, my friend.” She had the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze his hand. It would be more for her own comfort than his, so she did not act on it. “To be honest, your words are a relief. I do not mind the excuse to avoid this place.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “You got somewhere else you’d rather be?”

She both did, and did not. How could she explain without sounding like a clinging child?

...Perhaps that was the wrong metaphor. She would have preferred her children to be a little clingier.

“‘Cause, uh, if you don’t mind a bit of mess… my door’s always open.”

She blinked at the offer. Had he felt the thoughts stirring in her soul?

She didn’t want to be alone. Not again. And she had told him the truth: there were unlikely to be any other monsters she knew still around. Perhaps Gerson; she and Asgore had always joked that he would outlive them.

That joke seemed awfully morbid now.

“Sorry. Was that too forward? Our friendship’s built off closed doors; guess we should just take 'em one at a—"

"No," she interjected too forcefully. “No. I would love to visit your home.”

Though she had never set foot there, she already suspected it would feel more like a home than this place.

“You really—? Great.” His skull tinged the faintest blue. “Just, uh, know that it’s nothing fancy.”

Toriel smiled. “‘Nothing fancy’ sounds wonderful at the moment.”

Perhaps wherever he lived would be out of the way enough that news of her return would be delayed. If she could be lucky enough to pass for an ordinary monster… well, that was likely too much to wish for. It certainly wasn’t becoming of a queen to hide from her subjects.

Stars, there was so much to get used to. So many formalities to reacquaint herself with. She hoped such things would wait until tomorrow.

Sans returned her smile.

“In that case, I know a shortcut.”

XXX

She handled the shortcut well for a first-timer. No stumbling on the other end, no complaints of nausea or dizziness. Of course, she was a Queen. A Boss Monster. Why would a magic trick ruin her composure?

Sans wanted to laugh. All this time, he'd been joking with the Queen. She didn't seem to mind, but she could just be “humerus”ing him.

...Nah. She had every excuse to ignore him if she really wanted to. Instead she'd actually taken him up on his offer.

He almost forgot to drop her hand once their feet landed in the soft snow. Heh. Who was he kidding? It was just nice to feel her fur under his fingers. To touch her, and know that she was real.

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up, reflecting the gyftmas lights strung haphazardly around the house's columns. "I remember this place!"

"You do?" Sans's browbone furrowed.

"I saw it while travelling from the Ruins to…" she trailed off. To stop the kid from fighting Asgore.

Sans felt stupid for not trying to stop them himself. Not that a kid that determined would’ve listened, anyway. Still… he’d believed in them. Hoped that by some miracle, they’d get ‘em out of this mess.

Heh. That was too much pressure to put on a kid, even a determined one.

"Yeah." He coughed quietly. "Guess we're hard to miss. Papyrus did something to the Gyftmas lights—even when the CORE lights go out for the night, ours stay on. Never figured out how he pulled that off."

Toriel laughed before seeming to realize something.

"I will get to meet your brother!" She clasped her hands together. "I wish it had not come about for such an unhappy reason, but I am excited nonetheless."

He chuckled. Her excitement was contagious. That was something she and Papyrus had in common already.

He pushed the door open, called out for his brother—and noticed the monster sprawled out on his couch.

"Oh." Sans blinked at Undyne, who was snoring so loudly, he should've heard it from outside. Guess he'd been a little distracted. "Uh. This is awkward."

"What is it?" Toriel hung back, her head ducking through the doorframe. "Is your brother sleeping? I would not wish to wake him. You said he rarely sleeps, did you not?"

"Nah, it's not him. Forgot his pal's house burned down. Actually, I'm sure you met her. Undyne? Captain of the Royal Guard?"

"I… yes, we met." Toriel edged inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "She looks far more peaceful now than she did this morning. From what I understand, my ex-husband was something of a father to her."

"Something like that." Sans nodded in agreement. There hadn't even been a Royal Guard until Asgore created the position for her. Sans wondered if Toriel would keep it around now that Asgore was gone.

Welp. It wouldn't hurt, what with his suspicions about Papyrus's friend "Flowery."

(Maybe Sans should let Toriel sleep on the top floor rather than the couch anyway. No dirt for stray flowers to get into up there.)

"Should we be staring?" Toriel said with a soft chuckle.

Sans shook his thoughts away. "Sorry. Just thinking. I, uh…"

There wasn't room on the top floor. Sans's lumpy, crumb-dusted mattress was out of the question. That left only Papyrus's bed, which while rarely in use, had too much sentimental value to give to Toriel without asking. Where was Papyrus, anyway?

"Undyne!" His brother practically kicked in the door. "I have returned with nutritious—oh!"

Papyrus's sockets blinked at Toriel. Then at Sans. Then at Toriel again.

(Undyne let out another loud snore.)

"Sans?” Papyrus dropped his groceries on the table next to the pet rock. “Why didn't you tell me we had another guest??"

Because he was an idiot who hadn't planned past one impulsive offer. His face went a little blue.

"I guest you would figure it out," he managed to joke.

Toriel let out a bleating laugh at that. The suddenness of it was enough to jolt Undyne awake.

"NGAHH!!" She tried to leap off the couch, but ended up rolling onto the floor. "I'm here, Asgore! I won't—oh."

Her single eye blinked up at Toriel.

"Papyrus?" Undyne hissed through her teeth. "Why didn't you tell me the Queen was coming??"

"Because I didn't know!" Papyrus replied brightly.

"I, uh, promise I'm usually more professional than this." Undyne summoned an energy spear and used it to push herself to her feet. The attack left a small char mark on the carpet. "I am at your service, Your Majesty."

Sans thought she looked real professional in a pair of Papyrus's MTT-brand crop top pajamas. Toriel didn't comment on that though, instead opting for a matronly smile.

"There is no need for that, Captain. I am not here on business, but as a friend."

That smile turned towards Sans, and he fought back a blush.

"Yeah. I was just gonna, uh, make some dinner. Y'know, welcome our queen back with some Snowdin hospitality."

"Dinner?" Papyrus squinted suspiciously. "You don't cook dinner. I cook dinner."

"First time for everything, right?" Sans winked to hide his embarrassment.

Of course Papyrus wouldn't buy his excuse. But he really didn't want his brother and Undyne worrying on top of Toriel. Granted, it was Undyne's job to worry about security threats… but she'd tear up the house's foundation if she thought an enemy might be hiding anywhere in a five-mile radius.

"Sans," Toriel chided him. "You do not owe me that."

"Wowie! You must be a great influence on him, Bald Asgore!"

Toriel blinked before bursting out laughing. Sans's grin widened.

"Her name is Toriel, bro."

"Of course!! Where are my manners?" Papyrus bustled past him to shake Toriel's paws. "I am the Great Papyrus! It's an honor to meet you, Queen Toriel!"

"The honor is mine. Sans has told me so much about you," she said, and Papyrus blushed pink.

"You? Know the new queen?" Undyne whispered to Sans while Papyrus and Toriel got acquainted.

"You know me. I know everyone." He winked.

"She came out of nowhere."

"Yeah. My bro and I know what that's like."

Undyne huffed, but Sans didn't offer a more thorough explanation.

Papyrus's affronted shout signalled that Toriel had dropped her first pun.

"I take it back! This is the worst day of my life!!"

Sans met Toriel's eyes, and they both laughed.

"I suppose I will have to help Sans in the kitchen as my pun-ishment," she said with a coy wink.

"Normally I would object to a guest cooking, but in this case I will make an exception!" Papyrus turned on his heel and grabbed Undyne's arm. "We will clean up the living room in the meantime! Try not to corrupt the queen any further, Sans!!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, bro."

He gave a quick wink to Toriel behind Papyrus's back, and they moved to the kitchen.

"Did I actually upset him…?" She asked once they were out of earshot.

"Nah. He's just dramatic like that. He'll drop three puns per sentence when he thinks I'm not listening."

He turned away, rummaging through the fridge for something edible they could cook. Discreetly, he tucked his empty chisp bag behind Papyrus’s spaghetti-filled tupperware.

“Oh, good. I would not want to make a bad first impression.”

“Pfft. You’d have to try real hard to do that, Tori. My bro sees the best in everyone.” He smiled and pulled a “pupperoni” pizza out of the freezer. It wasn’t anything fancy, but at least it would be edible.

He turned around, pizza in hand, and found Toriel staring at him oddly.

“What?” His sockets widened. “Uh, you’re not vegetarian, are you?”

She shook her head quickly, her gaze skimming off of his like oil from water.

“Pizza sounds lovely. It has been quite some time since I had one.”

Sans didn’t pry, but he couldn’t help wondering what her expression had meant. Had he said something weird?

...Oh. He’d called her Tori, hadn’t he? He should know better than to use nicknames without asking. Papyrus hated them.

“Please, allow me.” She held out her paws, so she couldn’t be too upset.

He handed over the pizza, and he jumped when fire flared to life in her palms. For a moment he thought the fire would scorch the pizza beyond recognition, but the flames were just pleasantly warm. He’d never known a monster other than Grillby to have such careful control of fire magic.

“Heh. I didn’t know you were so hot, Toriel.”

As soon as he said it, he clamped his jaw shut. Geez, how stupid could he be? Making bad jokes was one thing, but flirting with bad jokes?

The fire went out. She looked up abruptly—er, looked away from the pizza. He was still a good two feet shorter than her.

“Tori was fine,” she said, her voice soft.

“Uh,” he replied intelligently.

She suppressed a giggle, and he was pretty sure his face burned hotter than her fire had. He could stand to take notes from Alphys and throw himself in the trash.

“Or not. Whatever is comfortable for you,” she reassured him. “Now, should we eat dinner before it gets cold?”

Eating was hardly something he could screw up at.

“Sure,” then after a pause, he tested, “Tori.”

Forget her fire magic. Her smile could’ve heated the pizza all on its own.

XXX

For once in a hundred years, dinner was a warm and energetic affair. In addition to the pizza, Papyrus had tossed together a salad from his fresh groceries, and Sans had briefly stepped out to grab a few orders of wings and fries. In the end there was plenty of food for four hungry monsters.

Papyrus apologized for the lack of seating, but Toriel didn’t mind sitting on the couch squeezed between Sans and Undyne, eating off of paper plates. She couldn’t imagine anywhere she would have felt more comfortable.

Before long, though, the day’s fatigue caught up with her. She supposed it was to be expected—she wouldn’t regain her social stamina all at once.

Sans caught her eye, and he nodded towards the stairs as Undyne and Papyrus “owned” each other in an MTT-Brand fighting game.

“Sorry. I know they can be a bit much.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull.

“They’re lovely. I wish I had the energy to keep up with them.” She smiled.

He leaned against the banister, smiling down at them. Papyrus had gotten the upper hand this time, and was punching the air with joy.

“Me too,” Sans said, still looking away. “I was thinking. If you want a place to rest for the night, my bed’s open.”

She blinked. Her face seemed to catch fire. That was rather more… forward than she was expecting. Sure, she had enjoyed his lighthearted flirting, and much as she tried to deny it, feelings had been growing in her for a long time. But to have him return those feelings? And so boldly? It was as unfathomable as it was unlikely.

“I can get ya some fresh sheets, and I’ll crash in the shed. My bro set up an, uh, guest room there when the human was in town.”

Oh. She rubbed the heat from her face while he wasn’t looking. How foolish could she be, to think he would be implying…? Well.

“I would not force you out of your room,” she said. “If your brother prepared a guest room, I am sure that would be adequate.”

He let out a quick laugh. “Uh, you’re not used to my brother’s… decorating. Seriously, I don’t mind.”

She sighed. If he insisted, she supposed it would be rude to deny his hospitality.

“Alright. Thank you very much, Sans.”

“Great.” He smiled back at her, then went into his brother’s room. She waited patiently, and only jumped a little when he suddenly reappeared from the right hand door. Perhaps the two rooms were connected in the back by a bathroom.

“Hotel Sans, one vacancy.” He winked while holding the door open.

She chuckled behind her hand. “You really did not have to resort to this.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t call it much of a resort. The bed’s not even queen sized.” He rubbed the back of his skull.

The bed was smaller than she was used to, but it did have fresh sheets. That was the only fresh thing about the room. Chisp crumbs had been brushed under the dresser, and… that was a tornado. A self-sustaining trash tornado. Though at least there was a pine-scented air freshener suspended in it.

“Sorry, it’s… really not much. Uh. Probably kinda insulting, expecting the Queen to sleep—”

“It’s perfect.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I am no stranger to a few crumbs, Sans.”

She remembered days that bled into weeks that bled into months. Months where she couldn’t bring herself to clean, could hardly bring herself to care at all. Months that had grown fewer and farther between since she’d met a friendly voice behind a door.

“I would’ve vacuumed,” he said sheepishly, “but I suck at it.”

More embarrassingly loud laughter burst from her. In front of Sans, though, she didn’t feel the need to curtail her joy.

“Thank you.” She poured as much sincerity as she could into her voice.

“‘S no problem, Tori.” A light blue tinge warmed his cheekbones. How could he possibly look so adorable? “Bathroom’s down the hall if you wanna wash up or anything. And Undyne’ll be on the couch, so this is probably the safest place in the Underground right now.”

Her brow furrowed. Sure enough, there was no bathroom door inside the room—he must have used one of his “shortcuts” to move from his brother’s room to here.

“So, uh. I’ll be in the shed—uh, guest room if you need me.” He flashed one more tense grin before turning to leave.

“Wait.” She stepped towards him without thinking.

He looked up, one brow ridge raised. She found herself biting her lip, wondering if she dared ask what her soul wanted. It was silly, really. She’d been on her own for years, decades.

Maybe that was why she was so hesitant to lose this one taste of companionship.

“I would feel… safer, if you would stay too.” Her face burned beneath her fur, but she projected her usual composure.

“...Welp. Can’t say no to that, huh?”

She was about to reassure him that he could say no—that she was asking as his friend, not as his queen—but the soft smile on his face told her he already knew.

He briefly left to grab a few things, then returned with a few pillows and, for some reason, a dog bed.

“You are not going to sleep on that,” she said in disbelief.

He flopped the dog bed in the middle of the floor and started fluffing it. “Why not? Gotta throw a dog bed a bone, right?”

“Sans.”

The outdoor lights dimmed, as if at her command. Only the colored Gyftmas lights outside and one dim indoor bulb lit the room.

Her confidence waned with the light. What had she expected him to do? She’d asked him to stay. Unless she wanted to…

Oh, to hell with it. She was too old to be so shy about these things.

“If you are not opposed,” she swallowed, “we could… share this mattress.”

When he looked up, she couldn’t make out his eyelights at all. Their glow returned slowly, like the rising of the sun from her memories.

“Heh… you sure? You don’t even know if I snore.”

She laughed and sat on the bed, patting the space beside her. “You do not know if I snore, either.”

“Fair enough, Tori.”

They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom—she was imposing on Sans enough without adding the smell of dirty fur to his bed. Then she did her best to ignore the flutterings in her soul as he slipped off his hoodie and climbed up onto the mattress. She insisted he stay under the sheets; her fur would keep her warm enough with just the light blanket on top.

The sheets were a barrier in name only. There was only so much space on the mattress, so no matter how he adjusted and apologized, she could still feel the curve of his spine against hers.

It felt amazing. It felt terrifying. It felt like a mistake. It felt like the only thing she’d ever done right.

The one saving grace of the whole situation was that it didn’t stir memories of Asgore. Her royal beds had been triple the size of Sans’s lumpy mattress. She and her ex-husband had rarely slept back to back, and if they had, the feeling would have much different.

“...Tori?” Sans’s voice was just above a whisper. “You, uh, still awake?”

As if she could sleep while enduring the wonderful agony of friendly touch for the first time in a century.

“Yes,” she replied softly. “Am I taking up too much space?”

“No, ‘course not. I was just, uh… geez.” He sounded embarrassed.

Risking their precarious balance, she rolled over to face him. Or to face the back of his skull, at least.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Doin’ sans-sational.” He chuckled to himself. “Sorry. Never got to use that one with you before.”

She would have laughed, had she not worried about shaking the whole mattress.

“It was sans-tastic,” she joked back, and he laughed again.

Then abruptly, his laughter cut off.

“Thanks, Tori,” he said in a quiet but firm voice.

“What for?” She wished she could take his hand, see his face, learn what thoughts were passing through his skull. Instead she gave him as much space as physically possible… which still was not much.

A long, silent moment passed. Had he fallen asleep?

“I know it’s not how you wanted,” he finally said, “but I’m glad I got to meet you. So. Thanks.”

Warmth spread outward from her soul to fill her whole body. Sans could probably feel it radiating from her.

“Thank you, Sans. If I had to return, knowing no one…”

He rolled to face her. His eyelights were mere inches from her pupils.

“You would’ve been fine. All you had to do was tell a few of your amazing jokes, and the whole Underground would’ve been linin’ up to be your pals.”

She suppressed a laugh. “I hardly think that would be appropriate, under the circumstances.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “Plenty of monsters in town cope with jokes. You’d just be relating to the common folk.”

She stared into his sockets a little too intently. At this distance, it easily made her dizzy.

“Would you be included in that demographic?” she couldn’t help asking.

“When I first met you? For sure.” His gaze darted away. “But it’s crazy. Between you and the kid… I’m startin’ to think there’s more to life than good food and bad laughs.”

“Really?” She and the child had made such an impact on him?

“I know. Don’t tell Papyrus. He wouldn’t believe you, anyway.” He winked.

“My lips are sealed.” She smiled.

Silence hung between them. It should have felt awkward, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away. In the end it was Sans who yawned in her face and then hurriedly flipped back onto his other side.

She laughed, and clearly she was exhausted too, because she pressed a kiss to the back of his skull without thinking.

He froze. She froze. There was no way to play that off gracefully. And there was no way she could fall asleep and pretend that it had not happened.

“Heh… those didn’t feel very sealed to me,” he finally rasped out.

It took her a moment to process what he meant. Meanwhile her embarrassment only burned hotter.

“I am so sorry—”

“I’m not.” When he rolled back to face her, his face was bright blue. “You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?”

His question was tinged with desperation.

“Of course,” she answered automatically, despite the many responsibilities that she would have to attend to in the morning. She was the Queen once more. If she had to, she could adjust the schedule of meetings and speeches to accommodate… this.

Whatever this was to be.

“Remind me in the morning,” he squeezed her hand, “that this is real.”

His hand quickly went limp. She was worried for a moment, before she heard the faint snore escape his nasal cavity.

She gave him a fond smile, and allowed her own eyes to close. She did not know if sleep would come or not. She did not know what challenges the new day would bring, or what old challenges would continue to rear their heads.

But she did know that she was not alone. For tonight, that was enough.

#soriel #sans #toriel #fic tag #tali writes #soriel week 2021 #soriel week #really glad to finally share this one!

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omiscurls · 3 years

Note

hi! (this request is heavily inspired by a kdrama i just watched called sweet home lmao) could i request a childe x gn reader fic where childe and the reader r both severely injured and the reader had to kill someone for self defense and as theyre running away the reader feeling super guilty is like “i’m so terrible i killed someone” and childe is trying to comfort them and they find a place to rest while being both on the verge of death and the reader is like “i killed someone, i’m so scared that it’ll be my last memory”and the childe is like “try to forget abt it it’s ok” and the reader is like “u don’t think abt either too” (yk implying like oh don’t think abt the ppl you’ve killed before childe, bc im assuming he’s killed a lot of ppl) and he’s like ok with a sad smile and they die together in each other’s arms holding hands?)/?:))2 help this is wayyy to detailed i’m sry but if u want the reference scene it’s from this video , they show the specific scene in time stamps 0:57-2:56 again i’m so sorry if this is too detailed or if u don’t wanna write it!!! tysm <3

memory

a/n oh my god that is just my kind of angst, thanks for the request and i hope you'll enjoy!!

prompt: honestly? dying with tartaglia (that sounds like a creepy tv show's title and i'm proud of it)

contains: tartaglia

warnings: angst, death, blood, major character death, self-blame, murder, more blood, really a lot of dying and bleeding, please do not proceed if you're not comfortable with the topics

adrenaline was probably the last string that had your body moving and functioning in any way. the blood in your veins made you deaf, only capable of noticing the sounds of it pumping behind your ears, head pulsing like a bomb about to explode.

your whole body shook, and you felt a metallic taste on your tongue, covering your mouth with your hand to prevent throwing up, which you predicted would happen in a matter of seconds.

"hey!" you finally heard childe yell, sounding distant even still, when you lifted your gaze away from the body before you and noticed he was standing fairly close. "come on, move, or his buddies" he said pointing to the lifeless man beneath you "might just come to get revenge"

with that he took your arm by the waist and pulled you along with him.

you stumbled over your own feet, and almost fell down every couple of minutes. your lungs started to burn after mere seconds, and you couldn't even find breath to tell him to slow down. you also knew he couldn't, having better self-preservation instincts than you, he understood the situation you two were in better.

fuck.

you looked behind you, to the spot where blood painted the grass red under a pile of dead bodies, some of your allies, some of your foes, but from this kind of distance, you couldn't even make out which one was which. your gaze fell down to your hands, covered in sticky redness as well.

you just killed somebody.

it wasn't even the consequences that frightened you, it was the sheer act of life leaving his eyes before he fell down, of his pupils staring at you in one last beg for mercy before freezing like that for the eternity ahead, for how his body seemed to have gained weight in a matter of seconds, almost pulling you down with him. the ringing in your head got more intense as you choked on a strained sob.

"they're dead" you breathed out, making your partner laugh sarcastically.

"good guess" he answered, his grip on your arm loosening as the both of you climbed up a hill.

"no, you don't understand, they're- dead dead! i- i didn't think i-" you stumbled over your words, panic settling in your eyes as you tried to comprehend the situation.

"what, you didn't think that if you pierce a person through with a blade they're gonna die?" he asked rhetorically, back almost slamming against a tree, sliding down to the ground with a breath of relief. "fuck, looks like i got pierced, too" he noticed, looking down onto his side, the grey material of his uniform getting dark and sticky. he hissed, trying to lift it up, and gave up on his attempts, instead opting to look at you.

you didn't sit down, but kept staring forward with the most frightened expression he had ever seen you wear. eyes wide open as you searched for answers in thin air, hands shaking, moving up to cover your mouth.

“hey” he whispered way gentler than before, urging you to sit down in front of him “it’s okay, it was only self-defense. you did kill them, but you didn’t murder them or anything, it was kill or be killed”

his words held so much confidence in what he was saying, you almost felt comforted. he really did master the art of bending the truth to his liking, didn’t he?

“i did it, what if he was someone’s father, or brother, or whoever else, what if i just destroyed someone’s world? he was a human being just as much as i am, i had no right-“ you started relapsing into panic, hands gripping on your hair, head moving down to hide between your legs.

only then did tartaglia notice the huge wound right across the back of your thigh, and several others. fuck, he instantly thought, whoever did it knew what he was doing, cut you in a very specific place, with intent to kill.

he couldn’t even fight back the wave of anger coming crushing at him, but bit his lip instead of saying anything. there was no way the both of you could get to a safe place in time.

he used to be so passionate about continuing to live, normally he would’ve just throw you over his shoulder and run, until his legs gave out, but now, he didn’t even have the energy to stand up. he barely could move his hand, and the more he tried to fight it, the more tired he became.

the feeling of helplessness was eating him alive, both from not having any way of providing you safety, and for not protecting you earlier, not to mention how he couldn’t find the right words to say to you now.

“listen” he started carefully, waiting for you to stop sobbing. “it’s painful, killing someone. it leaves a hole inside you that you don’t know how to cover. it makes your thoughts twist and fight back against you, it makes you want to leave your own head for how bad you feel. it sucks, believe me, i know. you didn’t deserve to have to feel this shitty. i’m- i’m sorry. for not shielding you well enough.” he said bluntly, not a hint of comfort or the usual beating around the bush that he used every time he intended to coax you. just pure, brutal truth. for once.

“it’s okay” you mumbled quietly. your head felt heavy on your shoulders, and you felt how it started to fall off its support. the numbness in your legs, this sort of stressful feeling of being constantly out of air- “i don’t want to die, though”

the sentence felt like a whimper, a cry of help, but tartaglia knew there was exactly nothing he could do.

“am i gonna die?” your voice felt a little stronger, laced with fear, and you lifted your eyes back onto him, in search of a “no” that you knew you wouldn’t find. “i’m gonna leave this world with killing a man as my last memory” you laughed bitterly, before laugh became a cry, and tears mixed with sweat on the surface of your cheeks. “that’s the worst fucking death i could ever imagine”

“baby, look at me” he asked calmly “come here”

when you moved to sit on his side, his hand, sticky from blood, intertwined its fingers with yours, and squeezed tightly.

“look. we’re sitting on a hill, under a tree, the sun is high up in the sky, a meadow below us, it’s a perfect date!” he laughed so authentically, you almost believed it was true. “we’re on a dream date, isn’t that amazing? and look.”

with that, he tilted your head towards his, and kissed you softly and shortly.

“i love you.” he said in the calmest manner he could force out “is that a better memory?”

you placed your head on his side, attempting to hug him even a little bit, tears staining his uniform even more.

“i don’t want to leave you.”

“i’ll be right behind you. guarding your back, like i always do. after all, i promised to always protect you, right? death won’t change my plans.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #childe x reader #genshin boys #childe angst #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin imagines

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russadler · 3 years

Text

All That Remains: Chapter Two

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A look back to happier times and a defining conversation

A/N: Hey lol once again sorry I took so long. This chapter is relatively shortish (?) because it was originally part of the next chapter, but I decided to split it since it was getting long lmao. The next chapter will actually be coming soon I promise I was like almost finished but decided to publish this section since it was done and yall need to get fed.

Also another note I guess? I refer to Russell as “Adler” even though its third person Sophie centric. I believe since they came to know each other through work, Sophie only initially heard/knew of him by his last name and will still refer to him in her mind as such. I didn’t do this much in the first chapter but I thought about it and also it felt weird calling him Russell all the time LMFAOO

August 2nd, 1980

“…I’m surprised you never had kids.”

It’s more of a question than a statement, and an admittedly nosey one. They’re currently in the midst of a very picturesque picnic in a field of their choosing, the pair of them eating lunch while sprawled across a spare blanket pulled from the back of Russell’s car. The man in question is currently laid on his side, chewing a strawberry and peering up at her with a curiously cocked eyebrow making an appearance over the rim of his aviators.

Sophie wriggles under the scrutiny, a blush rising to her cheeks as she redirects her eyes towards her leather boots with a timid huff. They had been together for more than enough time by now, enough time for the lustre of having Russell Adler as her boyfriend to have worn off. Yet, even all these months later, a mere glance from the man was enough to leave her flushed and stumbling over her words.

“I’m sorry —“ She rushes to apologize, sandwich suddenly forgotten as she picks sheepishly at a loose thread on her dress. She had meant to word things a little…differently, but who was she kidding? it wasn’t her place to ask such things in the first place.

With Russell, the more you pressed him, the further away he pulled. His trust came with patience and time, a small price Sophie didn’t mind paying. There were things he held close to himself, his marriage being one of them. It was obviously a sensitive topic, or at least one he didn’t enjoy talking about. She hadn’t intended to interrogate him about the fact he didn’t have any children despite being married for a little over a decade, it was his business. Only recently had he begun sharing that part of his life with her, and it was a sign of his trust that she deeply valued.

And here she went, utterly obliterating that carefully constructed confidence because she seemed to lack a brain-to-mouth filter.

“You’re fine, kid.” Russell soothes, interrupting her scattered thoughts. The woman manages to to will herself to look at him again, where his enlivened grin signaling he was more amused than offended by the statement.

He sits up, and one of his hands moves to rub at her thigh in reassurance. “I admire that you’re always pretty straight to the point.” He notes lightheartedly, subtly pacifying her current flustered state.

The woman huffs, self conscious despite the comforting words. "It gets me in trouble way too much.” She confesses, biting into her sandwich a bit too harshly. It was true. She had a terrible habit of being too honest for as long as she could remember, and it had made for some terribly awkward experiences throughout her life.

“I’d argue telling the truth is a pretty good thing to get in trouble for.” Adler remarks in return, his hand remaining on her thigh as he continues with his lunch. She could tell he was making a point of appearing relatively unconcerned about the whole thing, likely in a bid to provide her some sense of consolation. The man was leaving little room for her to feel upset at herself.

Sophie releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and relaxes, shoulders loosening as she finishes the last of her sandwich.

There’s another beat of silence, and then it occurs to her that Russell had managed yet again to wriggle his way out of talking about himself. It was a common pattern, nearly every time she attempted to make conversation that centered around him, he would artfully steer the conversation away from himself and find a way to redirect the topic towards her.

He was annoyingly good at it, too, and she was just starting to catch on that he was doing it in the first place.

“Wait! You didn’t answer the question!” The brunette gasps, exasperated. “You always do this!”

“Do what?” Russell retorts, behaving as if he were completely ignorant of what was the matter. He always acted as if he didn’t know.

“You always find a way to not answer me! Every time you change the subject and then hope I forget!” The woman laughs, failing miserably in her attempt to come across as annoyed. His behavior was maddening, but Sophie often found she was less irritated and more awestruck that the man was so artful at playing people.

“I’d never do that, you’re just making things up.” Russell quips, mouth twisted with a lopsided smile as he continues the playful banter. “I love talking about myself, actually. Could do it all day.”

Adler just keeps smirking, stuffing a strawberry into his mouth as he does. The younger rolls her eyes, because as much as she loved him, the man could seriously be a pain. “You don’t actually have to answer the question if you don’t want to. ” She adds, humor now absent from her voice as she quietly rearranges the bundle of wildflowers she had picked.

“I said it was fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” Russell tells her again, his voice calm and even as he continues to rub circles into her skin. There’s a brief pause, and suddenly the hand on her thigh stops moving. “Wait, do you want kids? Is this your way of asking?” He asks, his head suddenly shifting to level her with a steely gaze. Despite the presence of the aviators on his face, she can feel the intensity of his stare. The man’s demeanor had grown suddenly serious, alert even.

“No! I mean…kids are nice and all and I don’t mind them…but I’m not really dead set on having them.” She explains, her own hand darting to grasp Russell’s larger one. From one moment to the next, it had suddenly become her turn to offer reassurance. “In all honesty, I feel I’d quite rather do without them, really.” She returns the man’s heavy gaze with one of her own, both in search of his reaction and in the hopes of communicating her honesty. "I was just…curious.” She admits shyly.

It was the truth, she wasn’t one of those girls whose ultimate life goal was of being a housewife with the white picket fence, apple pies, and endless kids. There was nothing wrong with that ideal per say, but it wasn’t something she saw herself wanting.

The woman wasn’t really looking to make children a part of her life. If it happened, it happened, but she could go without them and feel just fine about it.

Russell, on his part, seemed relieved. Accepting her answer with a nod, his gaze moves towards the sky above as he gives her hand a short squeeze.

Then to her complete surprise, he decides to answer the question anyways. Sophie turns to look at the taller as he begins to speak, shifting to lay on her left side and face him as he leaned back on his hands.

“Well...there’s a lot of reasons, really. First, my job.” Adler then pauses to spare her a brief glance, as if to ensure she understood what he was attempting to convey. It was no secret that Russell was often away, leaving her for weeks and sometimes months on end. She was never allowed to have any hint of what he was doing or even where he was going, all that she could know was that his work was very important and very dangerous.

Sometimes she found herself sitting at home and just hoping he was still alive. Confirmation that he was okay only came when he either called her to say he was coming home (which was rare) or until he appeared out of the blue. It wasn’t a feeling she liked having, and a sentiment Russell hated subjecting her to.

It was just the way it was, the way it had to be. Their relationship would always come second to work, Adler had made that very clear from the start. She was either in or out, and he made sure that she knew the price that she would be paying in being with him.

Russell sighs, the exhale sounding deep and tired before he continues. “It would be unfair to do that to a kid, they wouldn’t understand why their dad was away all the time...And it would have been unfair to my ex, she would have had to essentially raise them all on her own.”

Sophie nods silently in understanding, the living scenario was on she had come to understand personally. The periods of absence would be difficult on both mother and child for various reasons, and it was good that the couple had weighed the risks.

“Some of the guys at work are okay with that, and have wives that were okay with that, but for us..?” He continues, voice even as he grasps one of the flowers she had stuffed into the picnic basket and begins rolling the stem between his thumb and pointer finger. “We didn’t want kids that bad. We were okay, just it being the two of us.”

“You both ended up going your separate ways, too. I could imagine if you had kids that would have been a nightmare.” She adds, a relatively astute observation but one that she felt was worth mentioning. They had made the right choice after all, it had seemed.

“God, I’m thankful we didn’t for that reason especially.” Russell replies with audible relief, thankful that children hadn’t been something to consider in their subsequent divorce.

There’s a moment of silence, and she thinks he’s finished speaking, especially seeing that he officially answered her question.

But then he sits up properly, clearing his throat before speaking once more. “And all these years later my feelings about it are the same and I don’t regret it.” He tells her, sounding confident and assured as he rips most of the stem away from the main portion of the flower with a powerful yank. “Even if I wanted them now, I’m a bit too old to be a dad. So that ship has long sailed.”

Sophie nods. Russell was a man of very few regrets, and his sense of judgement was one she had come to trust wholeheartedly. He turns to her, an arm reaching out to tuck a few locks of her hair out of the way before placing the remainder of the flower behind her ear.

The woman smiles so hard her cheeks ache. Russell Adler was a romantic, despite the fact he vehemently denies it. It was true and no one was going to believe her ever. “I don’t think you really missed out, everyone I know who has kids just complains about them.” She states, still smiling.

The taller’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. Having carefully maneuvering the food out of the way, he then wraps an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her down to lay at his side as she lets out a surprised squeak. “Have we been talking to the same people?” He asks.

“If one of them is named Jason Hudson, then yes.”

Russell laughs then, and it’s music to her ears.

#get into it yuh #anyways next chapter we got some DRAMAAAA #russell adler #russell adler x oc #russell adler fanfic #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #black ops cold war #bocw #black ops cold war fanfic #bocw fanfic #mine #my writing #all that remains #also if u see any errors...no u didnt

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

multiply (kyle orfman/reader)

Title: multiply Request: no Couple: Kyle Orfman/Fem!reader Category: angst/smut w/ a taste of fluff Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrive sex, unsafe sex, mild hatefuck, grinding/groping, heavy petting, light breathplay (hand over mouth and nose) breeding/impregnation kink, fingering), zombies and zombies eating humans, death, descriptions of death, death of a grandparent (grandmother), mentions of guns and gun violence (but none actually happening), petnames (kitten/officer) Word Count: 5,943 Summary: After narrowly escaping her grandmother eating her, Reader is on her own to find other civilization. She meets the Orfman family and they take her in for safety. Reader and Kyle share a special bond. A/N: I am in love with this piece, so I hope you guys love it as much as I do. thank you to @reidetic for beta/editing this for me! this was also written for @imagining-in-the-margins "there was only one bed" trope challenge for june! thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

My grandmother was alive… And then she was dead… And now she’s alive again. Which is very confusing because I watched her die. Like I can’t be the only person experiencing this, right? It’s not some weird fever dream either, I don’t think. This has to be a town wide phenomenon.

My grandmother was acting totally normal too. As if she didn’t die. She was living life day to day, making cookies, knitting, and sipping her tea, just like she did before she died. It was like life went back to normal. And then… She tried to eat me. That’s definitely not normal. Is it?

Who eats another person!? Zombies! That’s who! And how do you kill a zombie? I don’t really like that answer. Because I love my grandmother. She’d do nothing to hurt me, except eat me, I guess.

I gotta get out of this house. It’s not safe to stay in the house with her anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. So instead of killing her, like any other sane person would do, I just left. I packed my backpack with a few clothes, snacks and water, and I left.

Turns out it was a lot more than a town wide phenomenon. It was country wide. Everyone was experiencing their dead loved ones returning from the dead. Just showing up, like how my grandmother just showed up. It caused something of an uprise, too, considering people don’t just come back to life after being dead, and they’re eating other humans. It wasn’t an uprise. It was terror, pure terror of the people who didn’t die and come back to life.

I hadn’t left my house in a while, at least since my grandmother came back. So I didn’t realize just how dire the situation was. Piles of burnt stuff were all over the place. Cars with shattered windshields were crashed into trees or homes. And the number of bodies just on the street was… incredibly disturbing.

I needed to find any sign of civilization, and quickly. There was no telling just how long I’d make it alone. I probably only had enough water for the next day or two. And the only zombie movies I’ve seen were Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland, and that wasn’t very helpful… Well maybe Zombieland was helpful.

A long branch with a sharp and pointy end was sitting in the middle of the road. I grabbed it, hoping it’d be enough of a weapon to protect me from the disaster around me. I silently hoped, and prayed to whatever God was up there, that I’d find safety before nightfall.

I was beginning to lose hope as the sun started setting; the sky lighting up with the fires around the town. Several people wearing orange jumpsuits came running around the corner, each carrying various weapons in their hands and over their backs. I nearly fell to the ground because of how startled I was. I tried to pay attention to the crowd around me, but the pavement chewed up the palms of my hands.

A guy with a crew cut hairstyle seemingly looked in charge. Weird to have a gangly and scrawny man be in charge of a zombie take out group. He had this weird stature that he held, like he was trying to be intimidating but not everyone took him seriously.

The guy looked right at me and pointed a gun at my head. I slowly lifted my hands and stared at him.

“D-Don’t shoot! I’m human!” I shouted as I stared at him. He stared back, stepping closer to me. He dropped his gun away from me, but still kept his guard up.

“Human my ass!” The guy with the crewcut shouted. I looked at my hands, watching as blood began seeping from my palms. I quickly looked back at him, hoping he’d look at the human blood.

"Thoughts on smooth jazz?!" he asked in a loud tone. I stared up at him, feeling the terror bubble up my throat.

"I-I… Not my first choice in music?" I furrowed my eyebrows, as I wondered what this had to do with anything.

"Thoughts on dirt?!"

"Ew? Good for gardening? I don’t know!” I shouted back before I stumbled to my feet. The guy with the crew cut cautiously stepped closer to me as he examined my face and body. I’d assume it was because he was looking for any impurities I could possibly have. “I almost had to kill my grandmother. But… But I had to leave. I couldn’t do it. So I left. I left because she lunged at me… from across the table,” I mumbled as he stepped back. “I just need somewhere.. To lie low for the time being. I promise I’m safe.” I whispered as I looked at him. The guy looked back at the rest of his team, gauging their thoughts and concerns about letting me go with them.

“You can come with us. But the second you turn your back on us, or turn into them, don't be shocked when I’m the one to put a bullet into your head,” his voice got scary low as he stepped right up to me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Understood,” I whispered as I looked up at him.

I was shoved into the middle of the crowd of orange jumpsuits. The guy with the crewcut took the lead and brought us to a house that was guarded by tall cement and steel fencing. The people who were currently occupying this home knew how to keep themselves safe.

We entered the fenced in yard of the house, the leader making sure everyone got in safely, and no undead beings followed us. Then we entered the house. I was half expecting it to be stripped down, or decayed. But when we got in… It looked like a normal home, just no power, and the windows boarded up.

“Oh! A new person!” A woman exclaimed once I stood in the area that was once a living room. She came right up to my side, looking at me with a bright smile. She was very happy that I was here. “Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” she cooed as she threw her arms around me. I froze, my body refusing to move as she embraced me.

“I-I…” I swallowed roughly as she pulled away from me. I barely had time to say anything else as she pulled us to sit on the couch.

“I’m Judy Orfman. Kyle is my son.” She smiled as she gestured towards the crew cut guy wearing the orange jumpsuit.

“Mom,” Kyle muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. I snickered as I looked back at Judy. I smiled softly as I gave her my name. It was weird how homey this place felt, albeit our situation in the world. Part of me wondered if Judy had any part in that.

“My husband, Noah, is out right now. And my other son, Zach, is with one of the women. She also had to kill her grandmother,” Judy whispered that last part. I looked at her with wide eyes, feeling a certain nervousness settle in the pit of my stomach. I could tell she meant well, and I shouldn’t be scared around anyone here. Everything that’s happened is just unsettling. When I woke up this morning I wasn’t expecting to have to escape zombies.

“Is it okay i-if I lie down? I’m just very tired after everything that’s happened.” I I looked between Judy and Kyle.

“Oh! Kyle, honey, you should let her sleep in your room. She obviously needs it,” Judy spoke to her son as she carefully smoothed out my hair. I looked at her with a small smile. I loved how motherly she was. It was definitely something I needed in a time like this.

“I’m not going to do that, Mom.”

“We don’t have any more bed space. You’re the only person with a bed big enough to hold two people. We aren’t going to force her to sleep on the floor or on the couch.”

“I-I don’t have an issue with the flo-”

“Non-sense! Kyle has plenty of space!” Judy clapped her hands together as she glared at Kyle. Kyle looked back at her with wide eyes before dropping his head and mumbling something. Even though Kyle was in charge of the orange jumpsuits, Judy was the head of household. Anyone could argue with her, but she would end up getting her way no matter what. Kyle probably knew better than to fight his mother.

“So it’s agreed then! You guys will share the room!” Judy smiled brightly. “Just no funny business.” She then glared between me and Kyle. I looked at her with wide eyes before shaking my head.

“Ugh! Ew! With him!”

“Her?! Are you serious?”

Even though I basically said what he said, I was still hurt by his utter disgust behind his words. I tried not letting it bother me as I grabbed my backpack and stood up.

“Why don’t you show her around? The bathroom, kitchen, bedroom.” Judy stood up beside me as she looked at her son. Kyle begrudgingly moved towards the opening of the living room, leading off to a new area.

“C’mon,” he grumbled as he looked over at me. I looked at Judy before looking back at Kyle. I dropped my head before dashing up beside him.

Every room he showed, I was met with a new person distraught by the events of the day. Kyle just showed me the room. I didn’t really know what I was expecting when he showed me around the house.

“Finally, this is where I sleep,” Kyle muttered as he gestured towards the closed off bedroom. A small smile grew on my lips as I entered the room, heading right towards the bed. Kyle, however, stopped me by grabbing my backpack and pulling me back to the door. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Judy said I could sleep in here, too. So I figured I should take my side of the bed.” I looked up at him, folding my arms over my chest. A smirk grew across Kyle’s lips before he nodded. At this point we were standing toe-to-toe, and our chests were practically pressed together.

“You’re adorable,” he muttered before pulling my backpack off my back and tossing it to the left side of the bed. “If I find out you’re cuddling with me, you’re outta here. And if I see you going through my shit… You’re dead.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” I whispered before looking away from him. I walked away from him and towards the bed. Even though I wasn’t facing him, I could feel Kyle’s eyes on me as I went through my bag. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me? Or are you going to let me sleep peacefully?” I asked as I dropped my shoulders and the things I was holding.

“Until I know you won’t fuck around with stuff you’re not supposed to…” He spoke out loud. I rolled my eyes before turning to face him.

“Do you want me to just mess with your stuff while you’re here?” I asked as I walked back around to his side of the bed. Kyle’s eyes widened and his jaw steeled as I went to his night stand. “Or will you leave me alone so I can get some rest?”

“I’ll leave you alone the second you back away from that nightstand.” His words were quick and sharp as he spoke. A small smirk grew across my lips as I looked back at him. I stepped away from the night stand and stood in the middle of the room. “I’ll come back in an hour,” he muttered before leaving the room.

With a deep sigh, I returned to my side of the room, finally getting ready to lie down for the first time in what feels like days.

{***}{***}{***}

I don’t think time exists anymore. Ever since the world went to shit, it feels like days felt longer than 24 hours. So it was hard to say how long I’d been in this safe house. I wished time was still relevant...

I try not to let things bother me. But I feel like it’s especially hard in this house with all of these people I hardly know. It was even harder because I was still sharing a room with Kyle. And he is probably the worst person I’ve ever met. He talks in his sleep. But he wouldn’t own up to that. Noooo, he’s too good for that.

The first night I realized he was talking in his sleep wasn’t too bad, mostly because it was him talking about stuff that happened before before a stupid zombie apocolyspe. But now it’s just annoying shit. I never get a moment alone anymore.

For a moment of privacy, I sat in the closet. It was just for a moment before the doors swung open and a woman my age sat down beside me.

“Zach wants to go to a stupid graveyard today,” Erica muttered as she sat down. I looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. “He wants to visit Beth’s stupid grave.”

“Beth’s his ex-girlfriend, right?” I asked, still unsure of who people were here. She nodded as she began picking at the loose threads on her pants. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Erica.”

“Okay, but when the dead start trying to kill me, then I’m going to talk ill of the dead.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” I muttered as I looked at the floor in front of us. “It’s still not really safe to do that… Little weird.” I glanced back at Erica with a raised brow. She looked back at me and grimaced. I had nothing else to say, granted conversations between us didn’t last too long. We had nothing in common other than our grandmothers tried eating us, therefore we had to kill them. So what was the use of us talking? I knew a friendship would never grow between us.

With a resigned sigh, I stood up, leaving Erica in the closet alone. I ignored her bothersome questions as I walked away from her. I didn’t want to be around her, or really anyone. So I went to the safest place I could think of, hoping no one else would be there, my shared bedroom with Kyle.

Of course, it’d just be my luck that Kyle would also be there. He was sitting at his desk, wearing nothing by his boxers while he cleaned his gun. I just didn’t realize that till I had fully entered the room.

“What the fuck!? What are you doing?! Don’t you knock!?” he shouted as I entered the room more. I turned and looked at him, my eyes wide as I stared at him. “S-Stop staring! Are you crazy!?”

“Me crazy!? You’re the one cleaning your gun half naked!” I shouted as I gestured at his attire. I quickly threw a hand over my eyes as I blindly searched for the bed.

“It's how I relax!” He shouted back. Once my body finally touched the bed, I laid back, quickly throwing a pillow over my face. “Can you leave?”

“How come you get to relax but I don’t? Roommates remember?” I sat up and glared at him. He glared back at me, keeping his hands on his gun.

“It’s so funny to me that you were going to be a police officer?” I scoffed as I laid back. That seemed to strike a chord in him, causing him to stand and look at him.

“What? I didn’t tell-”

“You talk in your sleep,

“No I don’t, Kitten,” Kyle retorted. I stared at him for a moment, trying to comprehend what he just called me. Kitten? Really? Seriously? “If anyone talks in their sleep, it’s you.” He pointed at me. I smirked and shrugged.

“If you say so… Officer.” I grinned before reaching up to shut the lamp off. Kyle stayed sitting in the darkness. I could only imagine his face was beet red, and his knuckles were white as a ghost as he held his gun.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Kyle’s voice came through the mild darkness. I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me.

“Taking a nap, Officer, because it’s how I relax.”

{***}{***}{***}

It had to have been the middle of the night. I couldn’t be too sure. I just knew it was late at night, and Kyle’s whole entire body was clinging to mine as he talked.

“Someone’s gotta repopulate the world… Why… Why don’t you do it with me?” Kyle mumbled into my chest. I stiffened as his hands drifted all over my body. “You’re like the only feasible person to do it with.”

“Okay, first off, rude,” I muttered as I shoved his body off mine. It was impossible to keep him off me though, because the moment his body was away from mine, he knew, and instantly wrapped his arms back around me ten times harder than before. “Secondly, haven’t you heard of personal space,” I groaned as I laid perfectly still on my back. I finally just gave in and let him keep his arms around me. No use in fighting that.

“C’mon, Kitten,” he mused as he nuzzled his head into my chest more. I widened my eyes and looked down at him. “We’d make some pretty cute kids.”

I hate this so fucking much. And there was no way I was getting out of this. I just wish this was when I knew the weird sex dreams started...

{***}{***}{***}

I laid perfectly still on the bed. The lights were off, and Kyle was perfectly asleep. I was envious of his sleep. The last time I had a peaceful night of rest was ages ago. The nightmares I had were awful, keeping me awake till dawn. But also, Kyle also talked in his sleep and always clung to me like his life depended on it.

I’d be lying if I said Kyle and I hadn’t gotten close. Even though part of me still hated him, the other part of me knew that he was probably the last person I had to be friends with, other than his mother and Erica.

With a deep groan, I shoved Kyle awake, nearly pushing him to the floor.

“What the hell was that for!?” he shouted from his spot on the ground beside the bed.

“You know when you talk in your sleep…” I spoke aloud. I kept my eyes on him as he glared at me.

“No I don’t,”

“You sure about that, Officer. How else would I know you wanted to be a cop?” I scoffed as I stood up off the bed. Kyle watched as I walked around the bed and stood at the foot of it.

“You… You read through my personal belongings.” He shot back as he stood to his feet.

“Y-You have a diary,” I stifled my laughter as I looked at him. Kyle glared at me again. “No, I only know that because you talk in your sleep. And at first it didn’t bother me too much because it was cute shit like being a police officer, or having a family and kids, and cute shit… But now… For the last week, Kyle, you have been having sex dreams. And I wake up to you clinging to me…” I lifted an accusing finger as I spoke. Kyle looked at me, waiting for me to continue my rant. Which was rather surprising because he hardly lets people finish their thoughts or rants before he interprets them. “Do you know how weird that is?! Having sex dreams about someone who’s just sleeping next to you?” I stared at him for a moment, trying to understand if he was going to say anything. “Whatever, I’m going to help Judy.” I scoffed before turning to leave the room.

“With what? It’s midnight!” He gestured to the dark window. Yeah, that was true. Judy was probably asleep. I just needed to get out of the room and let my frustrations be out instead of held in.

“With something!” I shouted at him.

“Kitten, wait,” Kyle started before grabbing my wrist and pulling me to face him. I spun around on my toes and looked right at him. I couldn’t help but feel annoyance grow on my face as I stared.

“Why do you call me that!?” I shouted at him. Kyle stayed silent as he stared up at me. I could see a certain confusion grow on his face as he tried to connect the dots to my question. “Kitten! Why do you call me that?! You’ve called me that since I got here.”

“Well… I…” Kyle paused for a moment. I watched as his mouth opened and closed a few times, and his jaw clenching momentarily. I stared at him, as he sat in thought for a very long time.

“Whatever,” I scoffed as I turned to leave again.

“Because you’re attractive…” He finally spoke after an eternity of silence. He looked up at me with a stilled face. “Because I’d fuck you,” he stated truthfully. I blinked, taking a step back before I stared at him.

“That’s a bit of a raunchy way to say you want to sleep with me.” I folded my arms over my chest. Kyle smirked before shrugging. “I’ve been sleeping with you for the last month.”

“You-You know what I meant,” he muttered as he approached me again. I stopped right in front of me, our toes just barely touching. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to have sex with me?”

“You… You want to have sex… During the end of the world. Bit cliche don’t you think?” I was still taken aback that he just asked that. I’m still stuck in the argument we had less than 10 minutes ago. And now he wants to have sex with me?

“Well I wouldn’t say that it’s the end of the world. But that’s essentially what I’m saying… Yeah, I wanna have sex with you, during the end of the world.” Kyle shrugged as he looked at me.

“If you say so… Officer,” I whispered with a shrug. Kyle looked at me, his jaw stealing at my words. “Someone’s gotta repopulate the world.” I smirked at him. I could tell my words did something to him. It was obvious that he did indeed want someone to repopulate with. And I was the winner of that contest. Not that I’m complaining.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that,” he warned as he cornered me between his body and the bed. I took a deep breath as I looked at him, feeling my heart rate pick up in my chest. He still made it possible for me to escape if I wanted to. But, at this point, who says I wanted to escape?

“Why? D-Does it do something to you, Officer?” I whispered as I lifted my hands to his shirt. A small smirk grew across his lips as I smoothed out the wrinkleiness of the fabric against his torso. I could feel the semi toneness of his chest through the light fabric.

“You tell me yourself, Kitten,” he muttered before pressing his hips into mine. My breath was instantly knocked from my lungs as his bulge pressed into my legs. “Tell me now… If you want to stop…” he half growled into my mouth. I quickly shook my head as he pressed his groin into me more.

“P-Please,” I whispered before I pulled my lips between my teeth.

“Please what, Kitten?”

“Don’t stop,” I whimpered into his mouth. He looked down at me, a pleased smirk growing on his lips before he quickly pressed his mouth along my face and then down my jaw. It was impossible to stay down on earth the moment he began leaving little bites across my neck. A soft whimper fell from my lips as he pushed me back down on the bed.

“We gotta be quiet… My parents are in the next room over. Don’t want them hearing us,” he whispered into my ear as he quickly threw a hand over my mouth. I took a deep breath before he pressed his thumb over my nose. “You think you can do that for me, Kitten?” He kept his voice low, almost a growl as he spoke. With his other hand, he carefully pushed past my pajamas and cupped my pussy.

I wanted to nod, but I knew the nod would mean nothing the second I whimpered again. Kyle smirked as he slowly moved his fingers over my clothed sex. I don’t think I’d be able to be quiet...

It just got harder to stay quiet the second he started stroking my clit over my panties. He knew exactly what he was doing. Driving me nuts, that’s what. He could’ve gone slower, and I would’ve hated him for it… Or loved him. At this point they were both interchangeable.

I bit down so hard on my lips I was sure they’d bleed as he moved my underwear to the side. My lungs slowly grew a blaze, feeling a certain tightness in my chest as he slowly moved a finger between my folds, slowly pressing it into my entrance. A dark smirk grew across his lips as he withdrew his hand.

“I didn’t know a kitten could get so wet,” Kyle mused as looked at his glistening fingers. He quickly glanced at me, his smirk growing daker by the second. Then he carefully stuck his fingers between his lips, sucking on them for a brief moment. A soft whimper came from me, causing him to laugh. “She tastes good, too,” he hummed.

Kyle carefully dragged his hand down my side, tracing over my waist and hips, before diving back into my pants and underwear. He knew exactly what he was doing, on purposely making me make noises. Because the second he started stroking over my clit, I couldn’t stop any sound that came from my mouth, even with his hand over it.

“This is already better than any dream I had, Kitten,” he murmured in my ear. I swallowed roughly and nodded. He smirked as he gently pushed a finger into me, quickly followed by a second. “If you’re quiet I’ll move my hand.”

I hummed as I closed my eyes, my head lolling to the side. Kyle dragged his hand from my mouth, sliding it down to my chest. My lips stayed between my teeth, forcing myself to be quiet as he started massaging my breasts.

“D-Don’t stop, whatever you do… Please k-keep going,” I struggled to say as his movements hastened. His thumb carefully brushed against my clit, causing me to push my head back into the bed beneath me.

“You like this, don’t you?” Kyle laughed lightly. I could feel my chest lifting away from the bed the heavier my breath grew. “How long has it been since you’ve been touched like this? Since you’ve been used?”

“Kyle, Kyle, please,” I bit down on my lower lip. I brought one of my hands to rest over my mouth, while the other held his arm.

“I’d call you a desperate, but I’m the one having sex dreams of you.”

The funny thing is… I was desperate. Even though he was the one having the sex dreams, I was the one having the thoughts when I was awake. And a lot of the thoughts were hoping this would happen. Guess we’re bothing having dreams coming true.

It was only a matter of moments before I was finishing over his hand. My eyes stayed closed as I tried catching up with time. And in the few moments I had, Kyle had climbed off the bed and quickly undressed, leaving me still in my pajamas. I didn’t feel rushed, but I hated that I was still wearing clothes.

Once I had my moment of recollection, I sat up, peeling my shirt off and kicking my pants to the floor. I was too busy undressing to even notice that Kyle was staring at me, watching my quickness and excitement. But when I finally did sit back and look at him, he was watching me with a smirk on his lips.

I tried not to let my eyes linger on his body for too long. When I noticed his hard length, I couldn’t help but stare. Then he laughed, forcing me to look up at his face and swallow roughly.

“No, please, keep staring,” he muttered with a smirk. I slowly blinked before shaking my head, silently lifting my hand to him. I could feel my sudden neediness radiating off my body, surely Kyle could sense it from where he was standing.

When he didn’t move, I slowly moved my legs apart, making it so there was space for him to kneel comfortably. He smirked again before crawling onto the bed, coming right up to my face.

“Tell me, Kitten, how badly do you want this,” he whispered against my lips. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Use your words. I trust you know how. You were pretty vocal a few moments ago.”

“I don’t think you understand, Officer, how bad I need you,” I murmured as I looked up at him. The corner of his lips twitched at the nickname I had so lovingly given him. “Only you can help me.”

“Damn right I am,” he muttered before roughly pressing his lips to mine. I threw my arms around his neck as he moved so his length was pressing against me. My breathing stuttered slightly before I began gasping for air as he very slowly entered me.

Once he was fully sheathed in me, Kyle knelt straight up. I stared at him, watching as he hooked his arms under my knees. With that, he managed to press deeper into me, inciting a moan from me.

“More,” I tried to whisper as I looked up at him. His eyes locked with mine for a moment before rolling his hips into mine. He fell into a steady rhythm, hitting the right spots at just the right times.

Any conversation between us ceased to exist, leaving us with struggling moans and gasps for breath. My hands ran over my body, trying to relieve myself of something.

Kyle dropped one of my legs, bringing his hand to between my legs. My head fell back before rolling to rest against my shoulder, feeling the eventual relief in my abdomen.

“You feel so good, Kitten,” Kyle mumbled before dropping my other leg and coming back down to my face. I huffed out a breath of air before lifting a hand to his head. “Better than anything I could ever imagine,” he added before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed, pushing my fingers through his hair.

“I’m gon-gonna cum,” I whined before biting my teeth into his shoulder. Kyle ran his hands up my back before pulling me close.

“Yeah?” he groaned into my ear. I nodded as my breathing grew ragged. “Me too,” he added as his movements grew faulty. He pressed his forehead to mine, his heavy breath fanning across my skin. My eyes stayed glued to his.

“Do it, please do it,” I whimpered. Kyle’s eyes grew darker the moment the heaviness of my words hit him. I don’t think I was supposed to notice his brief pause, but I did. “I’m serious.”

“You know what-”

“God, Kyle, I know. I know what it’ll mean,” I cut him off, lifting my back up into his body. He looked at me for a brief moment before capturing my lips in a gentle kiss. I threw my arms around his neck, holding him close to me.

“If that’s what you want,” he moaned, his movements turning sloppy. I knew I wasn’t about to last long. “Someone’s gotta have my kid.”

“Let it be me then,” I cried out. My legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him in place. “Please.” My whole body tensed around his as my head fell back as I tried to keep quiet. Kyle looked down at me before putting his hand over my mouth. Then a warmth- that I didn’t realize that I missed- grew in my stomach.

Kyle fell, laying against my body. With that, we fell into silence. The only sound was our heavy breathing and the sounds of crickets outside. The silence was nice though.

“My mother better not find out about this,” Kyle said after an eternity. I laughed and shook my head.

“Then you better hope I don’t end up pregnant, because she’ll find out eventually,” I sighed deeply as I brought my hands to hold the back of his head. His body stiffened before he lifted his head to look down at me.

“I’ll tell her in the morning.”

“Well you don’t have to do that,” I laughed. He stared at me for a moment. “You tell her she’ll probably break us apart. And, well, like I said earlier… Someone’s gotta repopulate the world.”

“No, yeah, you’re right. She’d probably kill me if she found out we’re having sex,” he stated before trying to move away from me. “Actually I think she’d kill me then pray I come back to life for that kid.”

“I’m not living through someone trying to eat me twice.”

“I can change that,” he teased with a smile. I stared at him once I realized what he meant.

“Tomorrow night please. I’m so tired.”

“If you say so,” Kyle laughed before slipping out of the bed.

Some months after the apocalypse ended

“You look mighty dashing in that uniform, Officer.” I looked at Kyle as I smoothed out the few wrinkles in his shirt. I tried my hardest to hold the young boy in my arms the moment he became fussy.

“Don’t start that now. I can’t be late,” Kyle warned as he looked back at me. I smiled and shrugged.

I looked up at Kyle with a soft smile on my lips. Although our son was young, he tried to blindly reach out for his father, but failed as he was just out of the child’s reach. “Be safe out there,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his.

“Of course I will.”

“Good, because your little man will be pissed if he finds out you’re not coming home.” I smiled before kissing him again. “But I think I’ll be even more pissed than your kid.”

“Please. I’ll come home in one piece, with no bites.”

“You better, Officer.” I smirked again.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Kyle scoffed before rolling his eyes. I smiled and nodded.

“Good luck out there. Judy’s making dinner so be home in a timely manner.”

“Okay, for real, I gotta go. See you later, Little Man.” Kyle smiled as he rubbed the top of his son’s head. I smiled before puckering my lips. “And I’ll be home before you know it.” He quickly pecked my lips. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. See ya later.” I swung our son over to my other hip, resting him gently on my hip. I turned around and slowly walked back up to our home.

“It’s not too soon for another one, is it?!” He shouted from the end of the driveway. I turned and looked at him as I made it to the front door.

“If anything, we can practice!”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

taglist: @thebluetint @muffin-cup @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencersmagic @spenciegoob @flipperpenguins @broken-stardust

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #kyle orfman #kyle orfman fanfiction #kyle orfman imagine #kyle orfman x reader #kyle orfman x you #kyle orfman fan fic #life after beth fan fic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction

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spockandawe · 3 years

Text

Well, this is interesting! So, in that post yesterday, there was one line that really baffled me, a thing about people brushing off a character as an asshole “because he shows literally zero growth.” I kind of set that aside because it was such a weird non-sequitur, and guessed that it was just someone’s sentences not quite keeping up with their train of thought, which has happened to me many times. Apparently I was wrong! I already spent long enough on that one post, I’m tired of talking about that, but this is new and interesting.

Okay. I kind of wanted to see if I could talk about this purely in terms of abstracts and not characters, but I don’t think it’ll work. It would be frustrating to write and confusing to read. It’s about Jiang Cheng. Right up front: This isn’t about whether or not he’s an abuser. Frankly, I don’t think it’s relevant. This also isn’t about telling people they should like him. I don't care whether anyone else likes him or not. But I do like him, and I am always fascinated by dissecting the reasons that people disagree with me. And the process of Telling Stories is my oldest hyperfixation I remember, which will become relevant in a minute.

I thought I had a good grasp on this one, you know? Jiang Cheng makes it pretty obvious why people would dislike Jiang Cheng. But then the posts I keep stumbling over were making weird points, culminating in that “literally zero growth” line.

So! What happened is that someone wrote up a post about how Jiang Cheng’s character arc isn’t an arc, it’s stagnation. It’s a pretty interesting read, and I broadly agree with the larger point! The points where I would quibble are like... the idea that it’s absolute stagnation, as opposed to very subtle shifts that still make a material difference. But still, cool! The post was also offered up as a reason why OP was uninterested in writing any more Jiang Cheng meta, which I totally get. I’m not tired of him yet, but I definitely understand why someone who isn’t a fan of his would get tired about writing about a character with a very static arc. Okay!

Now, internet forensics are hard. I desperately wish I had more information about this evolution, because I find this stuff fascinating, but I have no good way to find things said in untagged posts, reblogs, or private/external venues. But as far as I can tell, that “literally zero growth” wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, it’s become fashionable for people to say that Jiang Cheng is an abusive asshole (that it’s fucked up to like) because he doesn’t have a character arc.

Asshole? Yes. Abusive? This post still isn’t about that. This is about it being fucked up to like this character because he did bad things and had a static character arc.

At first, that point of view was still deeply confusing to me. But I think I figured out the idea at the core of it, and now I’m only baffled. I’m not super interested in confirming this directly, because the people making the most noise about this have not inspired confidence in their ability to hold a civil conversation and I’m a socially anxious binch, but I think the idea is: ‘This character did Bad Things, and then did not improve himself.’

Which is alarmingly adjacent to that old favorite standard of ‘This piece of fiction is glorifying Bad Thing.’ I haven’t seen anyone accusing mxtx of something something jiang cheng, only the people who read/watched/heard the story and became invested in the Jiang Cheng character, but things kind of add up, you know?

Like I said, I don’t want to arbitrate anyone’s right to like/dislike Jiang Cheng. That’s such a fucking waste of time. But this is fascinating to me, because it’s like..... so obviously new and sudden, with such a clear originating point. I can’t speak to the Chinese fans, obviously, but exiledrebels started translating in... what, 2017? And only now, in 2021, do people start putting forth Jiang Cheng’s flat character arc as a “reason” that he’s bad? I’m not going to argue if he pings you in the abuse place, I’m not a dick. I’m not going to argue if you just dislike his vibes. I’m just over here on my blog and in the tag enjoying myself, feel free to detour around me. But oh my god, it’s so silly to try to tell other people that they shouldn’t like him because he has a static character arc.

I want to talk about stories. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to say, because it’s impossible to make broad, sweeping statements, because there are stories about change, there are stories about lack of change, there are all kinds of media that can be used to tell stories, and standards for how stories are told and what they emphasize vary across cultures and over time. But I think that what I can say is that telling a story requires... compromise. It requires streamlining. Trying to capture all the detail of life would slow down most stories to an unbearable degree. Consider organically telling someone ‘I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich’ versus the computer science exercise of having students describe, step by step, how to make one (spread peanut butter? but you never said you opened the lid)

Hell, I’ve got an example in mdzs itself. The largely-faceless masses of the common people. If someone asks you to think about it critically like, yes, obviously these are people, living their own lives, with their own desires, sometimes suffering and dying in the wake of the novel plot. But does the story give weight to those deaths? Or does it just gloss by? Yes, it references their suffering occasionally, but it is not the focus, and it would slow the story unbearably to give equal weight to each dead person mentioned.

Does Wei Wuxian’s massacre get given the same slow, careful consideration as Su She’s, or Jin Guangyao’s? No, because taking the time to weigh our protagonist with ‘well, this one was a mother, and her youngest son had just started walking, but now he’s going to grow up without remembering her face. that one only became an adult a few months ago, he still hasn’t been on many night-hunts yet, but he finds it so rewarding to protect the common people. oh, and this one had just gotten engaged, but don’t worry, his fiancee won’t mourn him, because she died here as well.’ And continuing on that way to some large number under 3000? No! Unless your goal is to make the reader feel bad for cheering for a morally grey hero, that would be a bad authorial decision! The book doesn’t ignore the issue, it comes up, Wei Wuxian gets called out about all the deaths he’s responsible for, but that’s not the same as them being given equal emotional weight to one (1) secondary character, and I don’t love this new thing where people are pretending that’s equivalent.

When Wei Wuxian brutally kills every person at the Wen supervisory office, are you like ‘holy shit... so many grieving families D:’ or are you somewhere between vindicated satisfaction and an ‘ooh, yikes’ wince? Odds are good you’re somewhere in the satisfaction/wince camp, because that’s what the story sets you up to feel, because the story has to emphasize its priorities (priorities vary, but ‘plot’ and ‘protagonist’ are common ones, especially for a casual novel read like this)

Now, characters. If you want to write a story with a sweeping, epic scale, or if you want to tightly constrain the number of people your story is about, I guess it’s possible to give everyone involved a meaningful character arc. Now.... is it always necessary? Is it always possible? Does it always make sense? No, of course not. If you want to do that, you have to devote real estate to it, and depending on the story you want to tell, it could very possibly be a distraction from your main point, like the idea of mxtx tenderly eulogizing every single character who dies even incidentally. Lan Qiren doesn’t get a loving examination of his feelings re: his nephews and wei wuxian and political turnover in the cultivation world because it’s not relevant, and also, because his position is pretty static until right near the end of the story. Lan Xichen is arguably one of the most static characters within the book, he seems like the same nice young between Gusu and the present, right up until... just before the end of the story.

You may see where I’m heading with this.

Like, just imagine trying to demand that every important character needs to go through a major life change before the end of your book or else it didn’t count. This just in, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg go through multiple novels without experiencing radical shifts in who they are, stop liking them immediately. I do get that the idea is that Jiang Cheng was a ~bad person~ who didn’t change, but asdgfsd I thought we were over the handwringing over people being allowed to like ““bad”” fictional characters. The man isn’t even a canonical serial killer, he’s not my most problematic fave even within this novel.

And here is where it’s a little more relevant that I would quibble with that original post about Jiang Cheng’s arc. He’s consistently a mean girl, but he goes from stressed, sharp-edged teenager, to grief-stricken, almost-destroyed teen, to grim, cold young adult (and then detours into grim, cold, and grief-stricken until grief dulls with time). He does become an attentive uncle tho. He..... doesn’t experience a radical change in his sense of self, which... it’s...... not all that strange for an adult. And bam, then he DOES experience a radical change, but the needs of the plot dictate that it’s right near the end. And he’s not the focus of the story, baby, wangxian is. He has the last few lines of the story, which nicely communicate his changes to me, but also asdfafas we’re out of story. He was never the main character, it’s not surprising we don’t linger! The extras aren’t beholden to the needs of plot, but they’re also about whatever mxtx wanted to write, and I guess she didn’t feel like writing about Jiang Cheng ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But also. Taking a step backward. Stable characters can fill a perfectly logical place in a story. Like, look at Leia Organa. I’m not saying she has no arc, but I am saying that she’s a solid point of reference as Luke is becoming a jedi and Han is adjusting his perspective. I wouldn’t call her stagnant, the vibes are wrong, but she also isn’t miserable in her sadness swamp, the way Jiang Cheng is.

Or, hell, look at tgcf. The stagnant, frozen nature of the big bad is a central feature of the story. The bwx of now is the bwx of 800 years ago is the bwx of 1500+ years ago. This is not the place for a meta on how that was bad for those around him and for him himself, but I have Thoughts about how being defeated at the end is both a thing that hurts him and relieves him. Mei Nianqing is a sympathetic character who’s also pretty darn static. Does Ling Wen have a character arc, or do we just learn more about who she already is and what her priorities always were? I’m going to cut myself off here, but a character’s delta between the beginning of a story and the end of a story is a reasonable way to judge how interesting writing character meta is, and is a very silly metric to judge their worth, and even if I guessed at what the basic logic is, for this character, I am still baffled that it’s being put forth as a real talking point.

(also, has it jumped ship to any other characters yet? have people started applying it in other fandoms as well? please let me know if this is the case, I am wildly curious)

(no, but really, if anyone is arguing that bwx is gross specifically because he had centuries to self-reflect and didn’t fix himself, i am desperate to know)

And finally. The thing I thought was most self-evident. Did I post about this sometime recently? If a non-central character experiences a life-altering paradigm shift right near the end of the story (without it being lingered over, because non-central character), oh my god. As a fic writer? IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE. This is the most fertile possible ground. If I want to write post-canon canon-compliant material, adsgasfasd that’s where I’m going to be looking. Okay, yeah, the main couple is happy, that’s good. Who isn’t happy, and what can I do about that? Happy families are all alike, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, etc.

It’s not everyone’s favorite playground, but come on, these are not uncommon feelings. And frankly, it’s starting to feel a little disingenuous when people act like fan authors pick out the most blameless angel from the cast and lavish good things upon them. I’m not the only one who goes looking for a good dumpster fire and says I Live Here Now. If I write post-canon tgcf fic, it’s very likely to focus on beef and/or leaf. I have written more than one au focusing on tianlang-jun.

And, hilariously. If the problem with Jiang Cheng. Is that he is a toxic man fictional character who failed to grow on his own, and is either unsafe or unhealthy to be around. If the problem is that he did not experience a character arc. If these people would be totally fine with other people liking him, if he improved himself as a person. And then, if authors want to put in the (free! time-consuming!) work of writing that character development themselves. You would think that they would be lauded for putting the character through healthier sorts of personal growth than he experienced in canon. Instead, I am still here writing this because first, I was bothered by these authors being named as “freaks” who are obsessed with their ‘uwu precious tsundere baby’ with a “love language of violence,” and then I was graciously informed that people hate Jiang Cheng because he experiences no character growth.

#jiang cheng #mdzs #the untamed #disk horse #long post/#abuse/#only tangentially #but better safe than sorry i hope

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

----------------

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

-------------

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry ficlets #drarry drabbles #my writing #day 58 #drunk dialing #love #thanks for the prompt #send me a word and i'll write you a drabble #<3

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