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jakes3resin · 9 days

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Modern Reincarnation AU Part 4 ✨️

Part 3

"John?"

Bucky storms past Jack into the townhouse. It's rude, but he'll apologize later. He doesn't know why he came here instead of his apartment. Old habits dying a hard drawn out death, maybe? He hadn't been thinking clearly. Hadn't been thinking at all really until he found himself waved through by his father's security detail.

"Oh, is that John?" He hears his father call out, dress shoes clicking against hardwood as he walks closer, but Bucky stomps up the stairs towards his room before he sees the man. His breaths come out in rushes as tears keep burning his eyes.

Shit, he thought he'd gotten those under control on the train.

Slamming his door, he slides down until he rests against the floor. He tosses his bag to the side wincing at the sound it makes. Hopefully his laptop survives. At some point he does actually have to do the work he went to the library to finish.

The library.

Buck and Curt.

They wouldn't, Bucky tells himself. They wouldn't. Curt was one of his best friends, and Buck loved him. They...

Fuck they were roommates! Why the hell were they talking about that shit in public? In the place Bucky considered his? Why even pretend? Why drag Bucky into this? Why?!

Bucky buries his face into his hands. His chest hitches as he tries not to sob. He doesn't want his father or Jack to worry about him. He doesn't want to talk this through.

He wants...

He wants Buck. He wants the other to pull him into his arms. To kiss him again as if today had never happened. There was something else about being with Buck, something he'd never felt with anyone else be they friend or lover. He made Bucky feel safe and wanted. Wanted not because of his family and connections but because he was himself.

Buck would know how to make him feel better.

He laughs quietly through his tears. Distantly, he can hear Jack briefing his father downstairs, the words faint but he hears his name and tears used together. His laughter is more sob than anything else. Of course, the one good thing he'd found would end up belonging to someone else. Story of his life.

✨️

There's too much work to do. At least that's the excuse Bucky gave himself for not confronting Buck and Curt immediately. There wasn't time for a confrontation and subsequent blowup of his life.

At least that's the lie he tells himself.

Bucky chews on the straw of his iced coffee as he skims yet another chapter. There's a pumpkin muffin in front of him that he swore would be his reward for getting through this fourty page reading. Midterms have come and gone, but Bucky still has deadlines to meet and research to complete. He can't sit in his room forever, as much as his father and Jack would sometimes prefer that. Better protection from whatever sent Bucky crying to his room as his father would argue. Better protection for his father's political career Jack would quip.

Speaking of protection, Bucky glanced to the side of the cafe towards his security detail. At least these guys attempted to blend in. His father must have briefed them on his track record with previous details. Bucky smirked around his straw. They'd be easy to lose come rush hour. A bit of fun even.

Bucky turned back to his reading, squinting down at the words.

"American airmen during World War II had a dismal life expectancy. It was not a matter of if an airman was going to be shot down but when. Once downed, airmen faced an uncertain 'reception committee,' as Second Lieutenant Kenneth C. Reimer noted in a drawing he made as a POW in Stalag Luft I in Barth, Germany... 'for every [ground combat] soldier killed in action, three or four others would be wounded; air combat was completely the opposite. For every man wounded, three were killed.'"

"Bucky?" A hand settles on his shoulder jolting him out of his reading.

Bucky kept his shoulders loose as he turns around. Buck stares down at him, a bright smile on his face that Bucky can't help but match despite his grief. It wasn't even something he could control. Buck smiled at him, so he smiled back. Bucky felt pitiful.

Buck's sky blue eyes are clear and happy as they dart across Bucky's face. There's no sign that he realizes Bucky overheard him yesterday.

Bucky lifts a hand to calm his detail, all alert now after Buck's friendly greeting. He sees the nearest agent settle back into their chair but knows none of them are relaxed. He darts a look up at Buck, peering at the other through his glasses to see if he'd noticed the disturbance.

Buck's gaze, as it always does, doesn't leave Bucky's face. Even when he rounds the table to sit down, his eyes are pinned on Bucky and nothing else.

"Sorry I couldn't meet up yesterday," Buck dumps his bag onto the chair next to him. Bucky's smile twitches. Buck sits down across from him. His legs tangle with Buck's own under the table, Buck's foot gently bumping his ankle.

"It's fine," Bucky chomps down on his straw. "How was your advisor meeting anyway?"

"It was good," Buck smiles at him, not even a hint of guilt on his face. "Real good."

Buck had told Bucky he was called to fill in a shift yesterday and that was why he supposedly hadn't been able to meet up. A lie Buck hadn't even bothered to remember. His advisor meetings were also always in the morning on Thursdays. Today was Tuesday.

Buck was still lying to him, and he wasn't even guilty about it.

✨️

"I went by your place yesterday. You weren't home." Buck swings their clasped hands through the air.

"Hmm?" Bucky glanced away from the traffic around them. His detail were staying a conspicuous ten feet back, but they were annoyingly keen when Buck offered to walk him back to his apartment.

Bucky would lose them another day.

Buck laughed, deep and airy. Bucky struggled not to lose himself in it. That was what made this so hard. Bucky still loved Buck, and Buck still acted like Bucky was his whole world and then some.

"Oh," Bucky finally processed what Buck had said. "No, I went to my dad's for the night."

"Really?" Buck squeezes his hand. Bucky hates how much comfort Buck's touch gives him.

Does Curt receive the same...? No Bucky doesn't let himself finish the thought.

"How was it?" Concern bleeds into Buck's voice. Bucky hates how genuine it sounds. He's starting to use that word more than any other. The longer he looks at Buck, the more he has to hate to save his heart.

"Fine," Bucky shrugged stepping further away as they came to a stoplight. "The usual."

"The Bucky I know wouldn't give such a short answer," Buck stepped closer eating up the space Bucky had put between them. "Not unless something happened yesterday. Come on, you okay?"

Bucky felt the words bubbling up his throat.

I saw you. I saw him. Why are you here staring at me like I'm the most important thing in the world when you have him? Why are you doing this to me? I love you. I love you so much it feels like my soul hurts. I hate you.

"Spent most of the night avoiding his staffers." Bucky lied. "Barely saw him, Jack either, yet he still asked me to move home at breakfast."

Buck nods, accepting his lies. Was that what they were now? Not a relationship, simply a lie? Bucky wasn't sure anymore. His heart thumped against his rib cage, anger and love in every other beat, but he wasn't sure which would win.

Buck had become his whole world in such a short amount of time. He thought the feeling was mutual, but yesterday showed just how stupid Bucky really was.

"How about this," Buck nudged his hip. "Why don't I stay over tonight? We'll binge a few movies, order something, and have night in. Then,"

Buck paused with a stupid grin that, despite himself, Bucky still found charming. Fuck, he was truly pathetic for this.

"I'll sweep you off your feet and take you to bed. How does that sound?"

"Won't Curt be expecting you?" The question pops out of him without meaning to. Gale furrows his brow, confusion growing in his eyes.

"Curt won't miss me tonight."

Sure, he won't, Bucky thinks bitterly.

✨️

"John," Jack's voice was a surprise. Especially considering it was his father's number calling him.

"You've gotten much better at your Jack impression," Bucky answers just to be annoying. "Does he know you impersonate him on official numbers?"

"You're not as funny as you believe."

"Ooh, you even have his disapproving tone down. I feel like he's in the room with us!" Bucky laughs. He peers around the corner. Buck's still where he left him, buried in his phone texting someone.

Bucky doesn't let himself think about who that person is.

"Your father wants to invite you to a dinner tomorrow. You can even bring that boy that walked you home. The one that hasn't left." Pages flip in the background as Jack talks. Probably governmental reports his father was supposed to read.

"You know you're not his chief of staff anymore?" Bucky leaned his hip against the counter. "You don't have to read reports or wrangle his kid to government dinners to help his image as a family man. You're his husband now, you're the family."

"You're my kid too by that logic, so wrangling you gets to stay on my resume." Bucky snorts out a laugh. "Besides, it's not a state dinner or anything. He just wants to see you."

Guilt gnaws at his heart. Buck pokes his head into the kitchen, phone no longer holding all of his attention.

"Fine," Bucky groans. "But if he brings up the apartment again, I'm walking out with my food on my plate even if it's the good plates."

"See you tomorrow at 7 then. Bring your boy." Jack hangs up without a goodbye.

✨️

It'll be me, and it'll be you, Buck.

Don't count on it.

Bucky jerks awake. His dream flashes through his head too fast for him to remember anything. Scenes superimpose over each other, words jumble together. At least this one wasn't a nightmare. Those always left him shakey and off balance all day.

His dreams have always been vivid, ever since he was a kid. The child psychologists he'd gone to had said it was normal and simply a sign of a well developed imagination.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair groaning when he glances towards his bedside clock. It's nearly an hour until he has to get up, but he knows that he won't be getting back to sleep before then.

Buck lays curled up next to him on the bed. Bucky reaches out to brush a hand through the other's hair. Buck twitches leaning into the feeling for half a second but doesn't stir beyond that.

Bucky sighs. Extricating himself from Buck's long limbs takes time. Somehow in the night, Buck had nearly fused them together as if even asleep the man refused to let him go. Arms layered over arms. Legs tangled together. It's an excellent distraction from his dreams but not from the problems of the waking world. If only he could forget those once he woke up like he did his dreams.

It's only when he's pouring water for his coffee that he realizes he recognizes the voice from his dream. A first for him.

It'd been Buck's.

✨️

(Not a confrontation I know, but it builds my AU lol)

#i know i already used that picture of austin for part 3 but that pic for some reason is so Modern Buck who can't take his eyes off Bucky #buck for me in this au is a touch obsessive because he's lost bucky once in their old life and now he has a chance again #but that chance is being strained because bucky doesn't remember him or their past life resulting in Buck lying to himself and bucky #one of the things i want to focus on in this au is how traumatizing reliving and remembering these memories can be as well as how alienatin #buck certainly has his own trauma and part of his journey is learning to let go and understand the difference between the past and present #shit i need to go work on stalag arc but also i got blessed by some muse for this au and who am i to doubt the will of a muse?#oh also i actually do have this whole backstory for Bucky as well as who his father is his importance and why Jack Kidd is in his house #if anyone wants to guess he is someone we see in MOTA and its a really popular Jack ship lol #the quote Bucky is reading is from an actual book called Terror Flyers by Kevin T Hall #I've personally only read portions of it for a class i took but its an interesting read from the bits I remember and skimmed for this #mota #masters of the air #buck x bucky #john bucky egan #clegan #gale buck cleven #bucky egan #buck cleven #john egan #gale cleven #buckbucky #modern reincarnation au

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crabonfire · 1 year

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Hi! Can you make the poli mercs with scout, sniper and gnreader, please? Thank you!

yarsss!!

Polyamory with Gn! reader, Sniper, and Scout.

Y'all are so cute arghhhh sobs hits the wall

• you three get into some cooky shit sometimes mostly because you and scout probably wanted to do something stupid and sniper either joined in or made sure you guys didn't kill yourselves on accident

• sniper is super affectionate in terms of touch, time, and affirmations. he will not be very open about telling you or scout "I love you" at first, he's quite embarrassed. But if any of you are feeling insecure or upset he will literally be so supportive, telling you how much he cares about you.

• sniper and scout both smother you with touch, when the three of you are in public you guys are always holding hands or clinging to each other, it's cute as hell.

• scout, like sniper, is affectionate in terms of touch and time you spend together, but this man is so into acts of service. yeah, at first I was like "prolly not" but tbh? I can see it. I feel like he's a bit insecure with a lot of toxic masculinity, he never wanted people to do anything for him because he thought they meant he was weak.

When you did a favor for him for the first time by cleaning his bat for him, or helping him clean his room while he was sick, he was shocked. Did you guys think he was weak or something? When sniper explained that it was because he loved him, he got a bit teary eyed, but he will never admit it. He will just say "I got sum in my eye...thank you tho."

• if you don't like physical touch, both of em will definitely understand, it might take some time for scout but he gets it.

• scout draws the three of you a lot, sometimes for laughs in corny situations but sometimes when he missed either of you deeply he'll draw you and fawn over it.

Sniper is so honored to be drawn by him, giving scout kisses anytime he gets drawn. He gets all flustered when you both compliment his work, but don't compliment him too much, he's shy but hes scout, that ego is bigger than his brain.

• all and all you guys are totally cute. sometimes scout and sniper will have disagreements, so watch out for that okay? it can get rough, every relationship has it's bumps tho!

happy (late) polyamory day to me and my other poly folk :) I love y'all

also hiii...writing again xx

#tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #i love men #tf2 poly #happy late poly day!!

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lilith-little-world · 1 year

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Sneak Peek of Chapter One|| The Isekai’d Oracle||

This is very short and I will be posting more sneak peeks of the wip chapter and drawings of possible spoilers for future scenes. For clarification, this is a Sun Wukong x Reader, for each chapter my minimum word count is around 10k words, usually, I try to push for 20k. The most I had done is over 50k words for a chapter (still fucking proud of that). It may take a while tho. I will upload the story on Ao3, Wattpad, or both.

Also, this will be unedited and will have a lot of grammar mistakes. There are going to be huge or small changes when the finalized chapter, comes out. So enjoy the first part of the first chapter.

Summary: The reader was pushed beyond her breaking-point, and wishes for a new life. Not knowing, it had set in stone her destiny. Thrown into the world of the Lego Monkie Kid, she earns the title, “Fated Oracle”, who has returned to give her guidance. The bad news, she doesn't have a clue what's happening and regrets ever wanting a new life. Yet she decides not to change the ending but change the path towards it. Will she succeed in not having everyone go threw angst? Is it possible that the Monkey King will not fuck over any new friendships and have everyone mad at him? Let's find out if our precious reader makes the story all fluff or have it ruined by angst and pain.

The campus was busy as any other day. Students walked to their classes, and clubs doing activities or talking to their friends, everyone was enjoying their sunny and bright day. Then there was you, stuck in the campus library, quietly crying. Shame and embarrassment never hit you. Is it so bad to have a break from the constant shit the world dumps on you? Apparently, it is.

The students ignore your display of raw emotions. Nothing new, many students before you, would seek the endless bookshelves. To have a spot to cry in. It's the only area on this campus where the possibility of some alone time exists, even though it was public.

When was the last time you took a break and just be yourself?

You sob while watching an animated show on your barely working laptop. The only thing comforting you on this terrible day. The 2D Lego characters act out the ending of the series. Well, for now, as the foreshadowing of season 4 plays. It had been a while since you had last seen the show. Rather busy with the fuckery of this year. You close the laptop when the screen fades to black. You stare at a random corner, letting your mind think.

The current enemy.

Earlier in the school year, you made sure to be on top of your classes and get good grades, only to fail. How did things get so bad? You did everything right, and chose the “correct path”. So, why isn't everything working out?

A few faces pop into your head, almost in a taunting way. Of people, you can blame this unfair situation you’re in. Yet you didn't have the heart to do so. Still, your infuriated mind replays the memories of how this mess came to be.

Midway into the first half of the semester, your parents had gotten sick with the flu. Sadly, you were the only child that had “enough spare time” to take care of them. It made you miss a few in-person tests during that small period but nothing your overall grade couldn't deal with.

Luckily, your parents had gotten better, soon after. The moment they were in stable condition, you had already packed your bags. Ready to go back to the college campus. Then life decided that it didn't hit you hard enough.

Consequently, your mother had gotten into a small accident at work. The day you were planning to leave. Luckily, it wasn't anything serious, yet somehow, your help was once again needed.

However, what got you upset the most, is how the professors weren't sympathetic to your current situation. Refusing to allow you to retake the tests or projects. Next thing you know, the zeros started to pile up and destroyed your once-good grades. Even though you tried to stay on top of the online work or trying to be part of the group projects yet it wasn't enough. So now you're failing the whole semester because a sorry excuse for a professor wanted to be an asshole.

This was going to be your last year, but that isn't the case anymore. Worse, you don't have enough money left to redo the semester. Dealing with your family and school was stressful enough, but what took the icing on the cake was that you had to work during all this. Being a server for some rundown diner, working late nights. You went beyond your limit and still kept pushing forward. Naively thinking that things would have gotten better.

You tried, and you failed.

What a cruel joke that is being played on you. If only something can whisk you away so you don't have to worry about this anymore. This isn't even the major you wanted to take but had done it to please your parents. Wasting your time on this damn absurdity, trying to play it safe. All because it was the “right path” to choose. Now here you are crying in a damn public library because you ruined your life. If only some greater power takes mercy on you and gives you a new life. A new start.

Then you'll make your own path to choose.

“Hehe, as if someone can be that generous.” You said to yourself. Closing your eyes, taking a breath.

“I don't have time for this. I already wasted enough. I need to be at work soon.”

Quickly pulling yourself together, you put away the laptop in your bag. The world doesn't stop spinning for anyone, after all. Anyway, you can always postpone a good cry for later and you can rewatch the series anytime.

The sun was setting, bringing the cold night. You shiver from the cold winds, regretting not bringing a jacket. Regardless, being cold or not, you waited at the bus stop around the corner. A few others wait along. The minutes pass by longer than usual. Cursing to yourself when you realize the bus is going to be a few minutes late. Another misfortune event on this godfucking day.

The sound of loud rumbling breaks your negative mood. The bus slowly came to a stop, the brakes hissing. A part of you wanted to say fuck it and not go to work today. Nevertheless, your body automatically steps in and shows your bus pass. Already have the actions mesmerized.

‘Guess it won't hurt to be on autopilot.’

That quickly, you zoned out and let your body lead. Only to check in when noticing your stop and putting your bag in the break room.

You put a black collared shirt on top of yours. Getting a hair tie out, you pull your hair back to a semi-high ponytail. It wasn't much but was better than being yelled at for not having it up.

“Alright, time to work and suck up.” You said, mentally preparing yourself.

This job was okay, depending on the night it was going to be. Either the diner is extremely busy or dead, and both are horrendous. Be stuck with countless people and their orders or have nothing to do for hours and get paid less for it.

You really need to find a better job.

“Come on sweet cheeks, customers are waiting already.”

Not caring to give a response to the head chef. Getting the menus, you put on your best smile.

“Hi, welcome, hope your evening is going great! What drinks do you want?”

You scribble down and go back to the counter, getting the drinks on the tray. The bell on the door jingles, letting you know that more customers have arrived.

‘It’s going to be a busy night, huh?’

The small restaurants slowly fill up, soon getting cramped. Luckily, other servers showed up so you didn't have to serve every customer.

“Hey, it's your turn to clean the restrooms.”

“I'm a little busy doing my job.”

Your coworker scowls.

“They can wait a minute or two. The restrooms can not.”

“That isn't my fault, Tom. My job was to wait tables, not clean the restroom. Also, we both know the customers can't for a goddamn second.”

You had never been on good terms with your coworkers. Since you like to mind your own business. Regardless, this person standing in front of you was just rude. Thinking he can boss you around.

“Yes but it's your turn to clean the restrooms.”

“Which I know, and I'll do it after I finish serving this table. You know since that's my job that I'm getting paid for, so it takes priority.”

The chef rings a bell. Tom just smirks at you. Rolling your eyes, you get the plates.

“Remember straight to the restrooms.” He said a little too cheerfully.

You hold back your groan and put on a smile. Placing the plates on the table with a group of people around your age. They chat away, talking about plans or stories. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming. You nearly get lost in it before remembering your job.

“Is that all?”

They nod, not paying attention to your presence. You glance at the clock on the wall. Your shift was coming to an end soon.

‘Better get to the restrooms before Tom has an aneurysm.’

The restrooms weren't even messy. People would rather not use the small area, so it didn't get too dirty. You just swept and mopped, making the room smell pleasant. Didn't even take long before you finished.

“Can't believe Tom made such a big deal out of this. I get that some people just like to be pricks but meeting so many in my life seems overkill.” You said to yourself while taking the bag out of the trash cans.

“Bet that fucker is having a good laugh. Hope he does, at least one of us is enjoying our night.” You dumped the dirty mop water down the toilet.

Now you can end this night and go home. The broom and mop go back to the janitor's closet and take the bags out back. You stop and look at the employee parking. Tom had been bragging about his new car. You slowly walk to it, getting a good look. The car was nice, new, and clean. It also seems he left the door unlocked.

“Fuck it.”

You open the door and tore the bags open. The dirty toilet paper covered the seats. You left the bag there and shut the door. Trapping the putrid smell. A genuine smile finally stretched across your face. Entering back into the establishment, humming. You went to the break room and grabbed your bag. Pulling out your phone and headphones. Ignoring the other coworkers who were on break.

“What got you in a good mood? You looked like you were about to shit your pants when we talked.”

“Oh, I just saw a funny scene out in the employee's parking lot. Some bozo got their car trashed.” You said vaguely, glancing at the man whose face turned pale. He immediately ran out of the room.

“Well see you all later, hopefully not.”

You left the restaurant before the chaos exploded. Only halfway on your trip back home when you finally got a phone call from your boss. You ignored it and tried to enjoy the bus ride.

There weren't many people there. Good, you never liked how these things get so crowded. The bus was oddly going a little faster than usual. You didn't question it, trying to focus on your phone. Scrolling through your feed, until your screen starts to glitch, and words appear.

Welcome back…

There was a loud screeching that tore the air. As the world became a blurry mess.

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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reader haveing a sensory overload in the bathroom of school and mj sees her and comforts but like kind of angst and fluff

omg i wrote it and totally missed the sensory overload bit i'm sorry but i hope this works out okay!

to draw people in crisis

michelle jones (mj) x queer!fem!reader

summary: mj finds the new girl crying in the bathroom and refuses to leave until she's okay. the both of them leave with smiles.

w/c: 1.2k

notes: angst to fluff, strangers to implied future lovers, gay, jokes about straight people (it's all /j /j don't come for me pls), mentions of homophobic comments but no actual homophobia, descriptions of being effected by homophobic comments/environment

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“have you come to rub it in?” you sniffled, wiping your nose with your sleeve unattractively. when you pulled it back, the fabric was stained with snot.

mj was expressionless, though inside, she was very much freaking out. it wasn’t every day you found the incredibly beautiful, witty, enigmatic new student sobbing and hiccuping on the grimy bathroom floor.

“well? are you just gonna stand there? d’you wanna draw me in crisis, or something? yeah, i fucking know about you, michelle. i don’t- please, just leave me alone.”

mj added another adjective to her list of things she knew about you. beautiful, witty, enigmatic, and bitchy snarky.

mj raised her eyebrows but said nothing. instead, she took a seat next to you, so close that your thighs were touching. she sighed as her back touched the wall. unlike you, who was stiff and pressed at a 90 degree angle against the cinderblocks, mj was slouched and nonchalant. she stared up at the ceiling and you refused to acknowledge her presence, locking your eyes squarely in front of you.

“i’m not here to draw you. you’re not my type of subject.”

you huffed. “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

mj turned her head and was met by your stubborn side profile. your jaw was clenched but it still wobbled. “you’re too pretty.”

you rubbed your eyes delicately, careful not to smudge your mascara.

“here, use this.” mj ripped up some of the cheap toilet paper and handed it to you, all neatly folded up. you accepted the paper wordlessly.

you dabbed at your eyes, then your tear-stained cheeks, then your jaw, which had been collecting pools of moisture.

mj cleared her throat. “so, why are you here anyways?”

“i could ask the same about you,” you snipped passive aggressively, though both of you knew you didn’t mean it.

“i needed to pee.”

“m’kay then. go pee and then leave me alone,” you commanded with no real authority. “please,” you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“oh, would you look at that? suddenly, i don’t need to pee anymore.” mj pulled her knees to her chest and shuffled her body so she could face you entirely. “i know you don’t know me, or anything, but do you wanna talk about it? the perk of not knowing me is that you’ll probably never see me again, so there’s no pressure.” though i’d like to see you again, mj thought.

“fine,” you choked. “bio is such a shit class. i like- well, liked bio, and i was so excited for it, y’know, ‘cause midtown’s a specialization school,” you mumbled. “but apparently the curriculum here is just as bad as the public school system, because it’s just my luck that we’re on the ‘types of reproduction’ unit. it’s not that it’s hard; i actually really enjoy the study of asexual reproduction and i’ve done some lab work on it. but i guess i should’ve known better than to get my hopes up, because obviously, the minute we start discussing sexual reproduction, everything becomes so heterocentric and it immediately opens the ground for ‘jokes’ that’s just thinly veiled homophobia and it feels like such an attack, y’know? and i didn’t come out or anything so it’s not like people know to be cautious around me, but even if i was out, i don’t think they’d bother. and the teacher’s an absolute idiot, so of course he’s not gonna do shit- oh shit, i’m rambling, aren’t i?”

“you say shit a lot,” mj noted. then she cracked a rare smile; it was the first time you’d ever seen her smile. mj was surprised at her reaction too.

“yeah, well, it was a shitty situation. i just tell it as it is.” you hesitated. “sorry, i didn’t mean to get all sjw on you. you don’t have to- sorry, i overanalyze things a lot. it’s annoying, i know.”

mj’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked at you in astonishment. “why are you apologizing? i- no, you’re absolutely correct, and i never thought i’d meet anyone who felt the same way as me. midtown’s such a ‘science-y’ environment that it’s almost like people don’t care about social issues whatsoever and i’m just- wow, i wasn’t expecting you to be so cool.”

you giggled, your tears long dried but the skin around your eyes still taunt from dehydration. “what’d you think i’d be like, then? you didn’t think i’d be cool?”

mj didn’t blush, but she was visibly flustered. “no! i mean, i thought you’d be more… ah, this is going to sound so bad. i thought you were gonna be more… airheaded.” mj cringed. “‘cause you’re pretty. all the pretty girls here are straight as fuck. and therefore, simpleminded creatures incapable of societal awareness.”

the two of you burst into quiet laughter, hyperaware of the echo chamber that the bathroom stall had created. you calmed yourself with a shaky inhale. “god, i love people like you. i’m always scared to joke like that; i’m glad i met you. even if you were straight, i’d still be glad i met you. you’re really cool, mj.”

mj held her breath, pursing her lips to hide another smile. one smile was already over her daily quota. “thanks. you’re really cool too. i’m sorry about bio.”

“yeah, me too. but it’s gonna be like that most of the time, right? so we gotta take care of each other.” you nudged her shoulder with yours. “thanks for being here for me, even though i was a bit of an ass to you at first. actually, no, i was just a straight asshole. but yeah, i’m here for you too.”

you smiled at mj once more, and for once, mj felt like her collected demeanor was going to crack and that she was going to burst into happy, girlish squeals. she didn’t, obviously. but your happiness was contagious, almost. you just had that effect on people.

mj pushed herself up. “i should go-”

you shuffled to your feet. “probably best that i-”

the two of you laughed, yours much more enthusiastic than mj’s. “i should go back to class. reluctantly.”

“and i lied. i actually do need to pee.”

you snorted, fanning your face to rid yourself of any trace of your tears. “can we be friends? because i’d really like to be friends. um, could i have your number? or you can have mine, or we could exchange emails, or something.”

it was the first time mj found herself on the receiving end of flustered. she’d watched peter blush profusely with liz allen, and ned stumble over his words with betty, but she’d never been in their positions. and she definitely hadn’t been in liz and betty’s positions.

“y-yeah. i’d like that. do you have your phone, or…?”

you pulled your phone from your back pocket quickly, all but shoving it in her hands eagerly. when mj typed in her number, she noted you’d added a little heart next to her name, and she preened.

“alright. bye.” you held your hand up in an awkward wave. “have fun… um, peeing. don’t fall in.”

with that, you jogged out of the bathroom and let the door slam behind you. mj stood there, heart slamming against her chest equally as hard.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

marvel masterlist | main masterlist

taglist:

@yourallihave @cowboibeepbeep @im-a-slut-for-fluff @bambamwolf87

#mj x y/n #mj fluff #mj spiderman #mj x reader #mj x you #michelle jones x y/n #michelle jones x reader #michelle jones x you #michelle jones fluff #michelle jones angst #mj angst

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prettygreenpills · 1 year

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Hola Mi Amor!!! For the pills celebration -> 9. “You’re not paying when you’re with me.” Bellatrix Black and girl reader. Smut. Gracias!

well this will be an interesting smut but here you go Mi Amor!

“You’re not paying when you are with me” - Bellatrix Black x fem!reader

Characters: Bellatrix Black x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, public sex, gxg, fingering, dom!bellatrix, sub!reader, master kink, etc.

“Fuck- Master-“ you moaned loudly and took a shaky breath. Bellatrix was drawing maybe the fifth, maybe the sixth orgasm out of you and she didn’t seem to have enough. You were crying at that point and you couldn’t help it but kept squirming in your place, what you knew Bellatrix didn’t like.

“We- we need to return- I need to pay f-for the f-food,” you said with some difficulties when Bella’s fingers were inside of you and she shook her head when you didn’t see it.

“No. You are not paying when you are with me. Now open your legs more, I want to fuck you senseless,” she said and you whined quietly, knowing that you won’t leave the restaurant bathrooms that soon.

You leant on the sink and opened your legs more as she commanded you. Bellatrix took you by your hair and she pulled your head so you were able to look at yourself.

You were sweating. Your mascara was ruined and you weren’t sure if you can take another orgasm. But Bellatrix was somehow sure about it. She kept pushing her fingers as deep as before and when you sobbed loudly, she curled her fingers up, her lips at your ear, making the shivers run down your spine.

“Look at you. Such a fucking whore, aren’t you?” Bellatrix whispered and you nodded your head left with no other choice. You had to agree with her.

“Please- Please I beg you-“

“You have fucked up. This is your punishment. One more in here and then I will prepare a surprise for you at home.” Bellatrix said, sure about that she was in charge. After all, she really was. All you did was that you just nodded your head and let her fuck the shit out of you just like before. And Bellatrix was really good at it. And you enjoyed it every time she was inside of you with her fingers.

“Please- Please- It is too much,” you cried and begged her but Bellatrix wasn’t listening. She was fingering you as roughly as she could and when her lips landed on your lower back, you moaned loudly.

“Come on. Just few more. A true whore would be able to do that,” Bellatrix noted softly and you whined as loudly as you could, what made her cover your mouth with her hand. Her eyes filled with anger and you knew that you fucked up again.

Bellatrix just smirked, pushed her fingers deeper and deeper, not caring about how were you feeling. When you felt like darkness filled the whole room you were in and beeping started in your ears, you knew that Bella was keeping her promise. This was the way you were paying. You payed her with your body. Even if she said you weren’t the one paying tonight.

The following thing you realized was a loud scream which left from your mouth. And then… darkness.

#bellatrixlestrange #harrypotter #bellasmut #bellatrixlestrange smut #Bellatrix Black #harrypottersmut #deatheaters #200pillscelebration #pillscelebration #requests

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skloomdumpster · 1 year

Note

Terra is skilled at so many things, make up is not one of them and she wants to look good for a date with Kat. Andreas is the father of a daughter who cares very deeply what she loves like. He draws Terra's winged eyeliner on for her

Andreas was having a shitty day, a "close second to being stabbed by my crush" type of shitty day. Beatrix had lost her entire shit on him around breakfast, after he had dared to imply that her friendship with Stella may be more. In hindsight, he guesses trying to be an ally by forcefully telling his daughter to "remove that stick up her ass and get out of the closet" was a little insensitive, but hindsight was always 20x20.

Then Sky had told him to fuck off and die by lunch, when Andreas asked about where his little girlfriend was, which again, he could've used better words. It all had come to a halt when Saul demoted him from the banquette's committee. Whatever, it wasn't like Andreas wanted to participate in a fucking party committee, he was only pissed because he couldn't oversee the menu now.

He was ready to go back to his room and lick his wounds like a normal functioning adult - getting wasted on cheap whiskey and not reminiscing about the good ol' days - when he heard a sniffle. A loud, gross sniffle of someone ugly crying.

It was uplifting that someone was having a worse day than he was.

Curious, he rounded the corner leading up to the fairy hall and found his target hiding inside of a public bathroom, albeit this one was always empty because the two closed stalls had been broken for years now. Empty safe for Terra Harvey, who was leaning against the sink, looking in the mirror and fucking sobbing.

"Harvey?" Andreas frowned and she jumped at the sudden intrusion, dumping something in the sink and cursing, clutching at her chest. Her face was red and there were black tear marks down her cheeks and she looked... She actually looked quite nice. More put together than Andreas was used to seeing her, following her father around like a cute little duckling.

"I- Andreas! I mean, I mean- Professor...Eraklyon...?" She wiped angrily at her cheeks, frowning as she struggled to find a moniker for him. He didn't think they had ever exchange a single word.

"Why the hell are you sobbing in the abandoned bathroom?" he asked, crossing his arms to his chest and Terra made a pouty face.

"I'm not" she insisted, wiping the tears still clinging to her chin, as if he was blind and didn't see the black marks on her cheeks or her bloodshot eyes.

"Harvey" he rolled his eyes, "answer the question."

"I don't actually have to answer you, sir," she said, insolent little thing that she was, "not after how you treated my dad."

"Ben?" Andreas frowned, confused, because of everyone he had bullied in his life, Ben was the one he had a soft spot for, not the opposite. Hell, he was somehow in speaking terms with the man! "Ben and I are friends" alright this was stretching it, Harvey said hi. Sometimes.

"No, you're not" Terra scoffed "and I don't need your help, I'm- I'm fine" would've been a lot more convincing if her voice didn't waver and break at the ending.

He wondered if this was about her missing her father and brother, who had recently left for the Malacoy Academy. If anyone had asked Andreas opinion of it all, he was not very friendly towards Ben leaving his daughter behind, but no one had asked him parenting advice and considering how great his day had gone today, maybe they had a point.

"Kid" Andreas sighed, "make it easier on us both and just tattle, will you?" then after a pause "is this about Ben? I can get you on the phone with him, it's not that hard-"

"It's not about my dad" she said in a little voice.

Well, he didn't have any other guess.

"Then what is it? Spill"

Terra snorted at an unladylike manner, then glared at the sink in front of her, collecting her make up and putting it all in a tiny sage green bag, "it's dumb and you'll laugh."

"Humor me" he pressed on. Andreas wasn't sure why it bothered him so much to see this kid crying, but it did. Maybe because she reminded him of his own daughter, maybe because he had a soft spot for Harvey and his prole. Maybe he was just feeling sentimental after his own children had awarded him as asshole extraordinary today.

"I just... It's just makeup stuff. You wouldn't get it," Terra mumbled, looking down at her little necessaire, "It's just... Why is it so hard? it shouldn't be so hard, I can do everything else - I can fix up people, I can stitch them! I can use my magic to- I can fly!"

He snorted in amusement, "alright, boss, but what is it that you can't do?"

Terra glared at him, eyes once more filled up with tears, "a fucking winged eyeliner. I'm a failure. I thought - I thought I was lame and awkward because I didn't like boys, you know? Not really and I was faking, so now, maybe, since I'm like... Living my truth" she gestured widely and Andreas had to bite down a smile "then it should be easy! It should be natural! But it's just as fucking hard, I can't- I'm so lame."

"All this over eyeliner?" He snorted and walked closer. She let out an offended noise.

"It's not just eyeliner, it's my entire- I just want to be pretty. Once. Okay?" her voice had a sharp edge, something he had heard in Beatrix's voice so many times. That type of deadly insanity that only teenage girls had.

Andreas shook his head fondly, looking Terra up and down. She reminded him a lot of her mother, Rose. Same green eyes, dirty blonde hair and round face. Even the same frown.

"Oh kid," Andreas pushed her hands away from the necessaire and grabbed the eyeliner. He had learned how to do it after Bea had gone through a very similar tantrum, except at the age of 12. He had allowed her to train it on him and everything... His whole heart ached for those days, alone in their safe house, hidden away from all trouble, his daughter leaning over his face and glaring as she struggled to draw a cat eye.

"What are you doing-"

"C'mere" he grabbed her chin roughly, biting the cap of the eyeliner pen and opening it. Terra's eyes were the size of saucers and Andreas smiled, "easy, Harvey. You have hooded eyes" he forced her chin away from his face, so she'd face her reflection "you can't draw a normal eyeliner, it's not gonna work."

"I..." for the first time, she was at loss of words. Andreas rolled his eyes, bit down his lip in concentration as he drew one cat eye, the left one, "there."

She turned to look at her reflection immediately, then opened a huge smile, "How!? HOW!? Mr. Era- Andreas- Prof-"

"Andreas" he corrected her easily, "just Andreas is fine. Draw a straight line here" he drew the bottom of the cat eye, outside her lid "then a straight angle, not forty five like they teach you to do on YouTube, then another one. Like a rectangle. Now connect everything."

Once again she stared at her reflection, shocked and speechless, before throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly- Then Terra jumped back, her whole face aflame, "Sorry, uh- That was inappropriate, sorry - Thanks. Thank you. Thank you so so so-"

"Whatever kid" Andreas shrugged, closing the pen back again and patting her head in an affectionate manner. He walked back to the bathroom door and then paused, leaning on the threshold, "and Harvey?"

"Yes?" She was looking at him as if she had never seen him before, face all hopeful and open and loving.

"You're beautiful, kid," he smiled, grinning even more as she turned beet red and walked out of the bathroom.

Maybe not such a shitty day after all.

#fate the winx saga #fate: the winx saga #andreas #terra #answered #mywriting #this one is going to ao3

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bradsmindbrain · 1 year

Note

If you are still taking requests... Ted comforts and takes care of Jack after some civilian got really injured while he was on his werewolf form. 👀

Together

Summary: There’s an accident during a hunt, leaving Jack to face the consequences, luckily, his partner is there for him.

TW: none

Jack sat in the living room, unmoving. It had been two days since the last full moon, two days since it happened. He looked down at his hands, and he could practically smell the blood on it, not the blood of a monster, the blood of a person. He couldn’t stop thinking, how could he have been so stupid? How could he have not prepared something better? His head was swimming as he remembered the news report, how badly he had hurt that man.

He was ripped from his thoughts as he heard Ted knock at the porch door, obviously intent on finding out how his partner’s last monster hunt went. Jack put on a smile as he got up and opened the door, “Hey, Ted.”

Ted let out a grumble, narrowing his crimson eyes.

Shit, he’d forgotten about that. He knew Ted could feel others’ emotions just as well as he could feel his own, why did he try and pretend? “Nothing’s wrong, Ted.”

Ted groaned again, unconvinced.

“I’m serious, nothing’s wrong,” Jack lied, he hated to do this, but he didn’t want to put his partner through this, this was his mistake and Ted shouldn’t need to be bothered by that.

Ted groaned again, trying to soften his expression.

“I know you love me Teddy Bear, and I’m being serious, nothing is wrong,” Jack replied.

Ted slowly lifted one of his massive hands, using it to cup the side of Jack’s head, letting out a concerned groan.

Jack couldn’t bear it. The sheer concern in Ted’s voice, the gesture of affection he had given him, he could tell Ted was worried, and that his evasiveness was obviously a major part of that. He couldn’t bear seeing Ted like this, so confused and concerned but so willing to help him in whatever way he could. So he finally spoke, “Something… Something bad happened.”

Ted gave a soft, inquisitive grumble.

Jack spoke, tears threatening to escape as he raised a hand to touch Ted’s, “I… I was in Paris, hunting that gargoyle like I told you, and… I thought everything was going fine.”

Jack began to breathe heavily, and Ted placed his other hand to Jack’s back, drawing circles on it while grumbling.

Jack got his breathing back under control, taking a few deep breaths before continuing, “I don’t remember it, I know I killed it. But on the news… on the news it said that at some point me and him, we got to a more populated area. At some point I lunged at him, and he dodged it, and I… and I…” Jack began to sob as Ted’s expression grew concerned.

Ted gave a shushing sound, grumbling afterward.

Ted was right, he was here with him, nothing was going to happen, “And… and I hurt someone. A man, I… I saw it on the news yesterday, before I came back.” He pulled himself close to Ted, burying his face in the vines and moss covering his chest as he sobbed.

Ted grumbled softly, his chest vibrating.

“It’s not okay Ted!” Jack suddenly shouted, “I’m not better than them, better than other monsters! I try to keep people safe, and I still hurt them! I’m just as bad as all those other hunters!”

Ted wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, giving a soft groan.

Jack tried to catch his breath, “What are you talking about?”

Jack felt one of Ted’s hands lift up to his head, lightly stroking his scalp, giving a soft, warm grumble.

Jack’s eyes widened, he had… never considered that. He thought back, to all the times the wolf had been released in public spaces, to all the times he had been surrounded by others like that. The only ones he heard dying were the ones who actively tried to harm the wolf, tried to hurt him. Elsa had mentioned her butler a few times in passing, and he distinctly remembered that he had been in the room when Verussa had transformed him with the Bloodstone.

Ted was right, he wasn’t a monster like that. As much as he thought the wolf was a mindless bloodthirsty beast that only refused to harm people he was close to, it was more like an animal, only posing a threat to things that threatened it. What happened in Paris was tragic, yes, but Ted was correct, it was an accident, there was no way he could have predicted what would have happened. He wasn’t a monster, not on the inside.

And even then, Ted was here, he would always be here. No matter what happened, Ted would be here to hold him close and tell him that everything was going to be alright, that he was loved. Ted cared, Ted loved him, and he loved Ted, no matter what strange situation he got himself into and needed rescued from, he loved Ted. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say Ted was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Soon, the tears disappeared, and Jack finally managed to speak again “Thanks Teddy Bear, I… I really needed to hear that.”

Ted gave an affectionate grumble, and Jack enjoyed feeling the resulting vibration from where he was buried in Ted’s broad torso. He nuzzled in close, playing with the flowers, mushrooms, and moss covering Ted’s shoulders. He was safe, he was loved, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They stood like that for what felt like hours but in reality was only a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness of each other. Eventually, Jack spoke up again, “Hey Teddy Bear?”

Ted gave an inquisitive groan.

Jack grinned as he felt his boyfriend’s tendrils tickle the nape of his neck, “Could you stay here with me tonight?”

Ted grumbled in response.

Jack awoke the next morning with Ted pressed up behind him, arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. Jack smiled, he was safe, he was home.

#werewolf by night #wwbn #wbn #jack russell #ted sallis #man thing #marvel #mcu #russallis #my stuff #prompts

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lifeafteratransplant · 4 months

Text

Health Anxiety & Trying to Get Into a Routine

Life, is hard. No doubt about it, and having a crazy, stressful schedule is not making it any easier, obviously.

No I don't have kids, but I have a husband, two animals, and myself. Lab/blood draw appointments every Monday, grocery shopping, taking my photography classes, taking my dog to vet for whatever reason, taking him to the groomers, making sure I visit with my mom, and talk to my family back in Iowa, it all comes down on me, and yeah it might not seem as hard as raising a kid, but it is hard for me.

I am double organ transplant recipatant. Which means that I have health anxiety through the roof sometimes. I have to check my blood levels every week just tp make sure I am ok. I hope that it isn't like that forever but I have been through 3 rejections in the 2 years since I had my transplant. Every time was terrifying. This last time was the scariest thought, cause it wasn't just my pancreas it was my kidney too. The thought of loosing my kidney made me sob, and my heart jump out of my chest. My pancreas has been touchy since the get-go. If I loose that I would become diabetic again, which I can handle. Loosing my kidney would me I would have to go back on dialysis and for me that isn't an option. They have used the strongest rejection drugs on me as the possibly can, 3 times now. Meaning that I cannot take them again. Imagine that in the back of your head 24/7, not fun.

This anxiety that I carry makes it hard to make plans, be in public, affects relationships, and causes deep depression and loneliness. I live in a state where this not a lot to do. With my multiple rejections, I haven't been able to hold a job, So basically I am a stay home wife, and that is not something I thought I would ever be. I'm not saying that is bad by any means, but I NEED to have a job to feel like I am contributing to society some how. It becomes very lonely and I fall into a state of depression where it is hard to get out of sometimes.

That is where the second half of the title of this blog post comes in. Trying to have a routine is so important. You have better sleep, which helps your mood, and you energy levels, which helps you get done that shit that needs to get done. I wake up about 8:30-9 every morning, and as of recently try to have breakfast. Whether it be a smoothie, toast and fruit, eggs and bacon. Something in my stomach always helps. Also I take a lot of meds so that is important to have food in your system when taking those. From there, I usually get on the computer check my emails, scroll Facebook, and then look at what I need to do around the house. I am ALWAYS cleaning it seems, I have two pets, both who shed like crazzzzy! Vacuuming every day or every other day is a must, and moping at least once a week. I cooke a lot so constantly loading and unloading the dishwasher, and cleaning the stove and counter tops. The list goes on. After the cleaning is done, I watch my photography courses, do some laundry, make myself lunch, and as of recently I had to put together a whole list of documents for my husband's immigration lawyer so he can get his 10 year green card. Some days I run into town to run errands, like doctor's appointments, grocery shopping, pick up medications, and as of recently furniture shopping. (I'll explain that in another post) I find that just having a list of things to do and crossing them off really helps me.

Everyone's life is different, so that means every routine will look different. Don't model your life after someone else's, you do what works best for you and your schedule. Know your limits, take the time to rest and take care of yourself and life will start to get, maybe not easier, but let's say peaceful. Find solitude and happiness in the little things, and don't take yourself so seriously. Always take care of YOU first, then you can give your best self to the ones you love.

Much love,

Karli

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whiskeynwriting · 3 years

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Insatiable - Chapter Ten: Let Me Protect You

Oberyn Martell x OFC Reader “Savia”

◆

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) fighting, mentions of gore, semi-public groping, dirty talk, praise kink, very slight breeding kink, vaginal fingering, some oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, exhibitionism.

◆

Summary: Your father arrives with Anya by his side. He blames Oberyn for your injuries, drawing your attention away from Ellaria and her three Sand Snakes.

◆

A/N: There are (and always will be) sexy times in this series, but this chapter had a lotttt of plot. I really, really love it!! I hope you guys do too!

◆

Insatiable Series Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

“Father!” You exclaim, dashing down the palace steps and over toward the carriage.

Ambrose takes stand next to the palace gates, beaming brightly at the man he’s grown to love. After all, he was more of a father to him than his own father ever was. Oberyn walked with you, but stopped at the gates, too.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” You mumble against his shoulder, hugging him tightly as soon as he’d stepped foot on the ground.

“I’m glad to be here.” He responds, closing his eyes tightly as he holds you in his arms. “And,” he says, stepping back from your hug. “I’ve brought you a surprise.”

“Savia!”

“Oh, shit!” you huff out, stumbling backward as Anya practically leaps down from the carriage and into your arms.

Oberyn is quick to step forward, rushing up and catching the back of your elbows to prop you upright. He’s still incredibly worried about you, even though most of your injuries have healed by now. You’ve been home for nearly a week, and still, he can’t stop supervising your every step.

“I’m okay,” you giggle, standing up to return your friend’s embrace.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Anya sobs, tears running down her cheeks.

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Anya.” You huff, patting her on the back.

She pulls away, but just as she’s about to speak, she sees Ambrose.

“Ambrose!”

To your surprise, she darts past Oberyn, running toward a clearly frightened Ambrose standing a few feet away. Oberyn looks down at you, raising an eyebrow at your friend’s unintentional rudeness.

“I’m sorry,” you say kindly, “She has a lot to learn.”

“It’s alright.” He smiles, chuckling a bit as he puts a hand on your back.

“Prince Oberyn.” You father says, stepping forward to bow.

“Yes,” he responds, bending forward in return. “Lord Vyrwel, welcome.”

“It is my understanding that you are betrothed to my daughter.”

“Yes,” Oberyn replies, smiling brightly as he holds you beside him. “Your daughter is an amazing woman.”

“Indeed.” Your father replies, his response a bit terse. “In the Reach, we often seek out the approval of a woman’s father when asking for her hand.”

“Father.” You snap, not wanting him to cause any further tension.

He is right, though; ideally, it would have been best for Oberyn to wait before asking for your hand. And, although you aren’t currently aware of it, that was indeed his intention.

“Of course, and I apologize for that.” the prince seems sincere, the absence of his temper a shocking yet pleasant surprise. “I had every intention in meeting you before asking for Savia’s hand. But when she returned to the castle after the chaos that ensued, I just couldn’t help myself.”

Oberyn is staring at you as he says it, his face a bit somber as he recollects the memory of you being stolen from his arms. But then, he looks back to your father, his face serious as he speaks.

“I had to make sure she felt protected.”

“And you can do that?”

“I can.”

“I’m really sorry, I – I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, just, make sure you remember to when meeting the rest of the family.”

“Hm,” she giggle, “the family.”

“What?”

“Not his family, but also not yet your family.”

“Oh,” you respond, smiling bashfully as your serious tone fades. “They are already like family to me.”

“It’s so quick,” she expresses, plopping down on your bed. “But honestly, I’ve seen quicker.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “I’ve seen much quicker.”

“So, how do I do it again?” she asks, changing the topic as the two of you prepare for your afternoon meal.

You sigh, turning around to show her. You stand before her at the edge of your bed, folding your hands together and placing them gracefully at your lower stomach.

“You fold your hands, like this.” You begin, showing her the first step. “Then, you cross your legs, only by the ankles. Keep your back straight, and dip down.”

Anya tilts her head at you, her face giving you a funny look as you perform the respectful act before her.

“Make sure to nod your head, too.” You express, returning to your normal stance. You acknowledge her confused look, rolling your eyes as you gesture for her to come toward you. “Come on.”

She does it next to you a few times, tripping over herself at first, but eventually getting the hand of it. You wonder how she got along without knowing how to do this, but you quickly remember she was raised by commonfolk, never seeing the inside of a stronghold’s grounds unless it was that of your own.

“My Lady, are you ready for us to dress you?” Milena asks, peeking her head in once you respond to her knock.

“Yes.” you smile, waving her in. “Is Amabel here, as well? We’ll need her help with Anya.”

“Yes,” Amabel says, striding in behind her. “I’m more than happy to help.”

Milena chooses to work on you, while Amabel goes to Anya. They dress you, apply your makeup, and fix your hair, readying you for the formal gathering. It isn’t exactly a ball, there are no other guests beside that of your father and Anya, but the event is to be quite lavish. It’s held in the great hall, the one used for the largest dinners and not just the ones for the family each night. Many courses will be served, and you’re expected to gather in the parlor as the meals are being prepared.

You find that as the minutes go by, Amabel and Anya mirror each other much more than you had realized. While Milena is a few years older, like yourself, Amabel and Anya are exactly the same age. They have the same build and the same girlish nature; it just takes a bit more coaxing to get it out of Amabel than it does Anya. Anya and your father plan to stay for a few days, so it relieves you to see she’s already made a friend.

“So, like this?”

“Yes,” Milena replies, “Beautiful.”

“I think you’ve rehearsed your curtsey enough.” You giggle, “It’s almost time to head down to the sitting room.”

“My love,” Oberyn expresses, taking your hands in his as he kisses your cheek.

“Hello, my Viper.” You tease, placing a small peck on his nose.

Your father had a few business matters to tend to, so he wouldn’t be joining the family in the parlor before your afternoon meal. This was fine, as you knew he and Oberyn were already at odds; maybe a few hours apart might do some good. Anya joins you, along with prince Trystane and princess Myrcella.

“When do you leave?”

“Tonight.” she responds, “After dinner.”

She turns to Trystane, an excited smile on her face as she grabs his hand. You smile at them, humming lightly at their affection.

“Have you ever been to the capital, prince Trystane?”

“I have not,” he responds, sighing out as he relaxes back into his seat. “But I expect it to be a fantastic sight.”

“The journey won’t be long.” Myrcella adds, “My mother sent down a ship for me for my name day.”

“What a wonderful gift!” you express, truly shocked at its magnitude. “Have you always liked the sea?”

“I have.” She admits, smiling to herself. She always was a shy beauty.

“Anya,” you say, calling for her attention. “Did you know prince Oberyn studied at the citadel as well?”

“I did.” She responds, smiling at the handsome man as he holds you in his arms. “What did you study again, my prince?”

“Poisons were my main focus; I was nearly a maester in the practice.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I truly believe education is the pathway to a better life in this world, but after staying for so many years, the title of maester was simply not meant for me.”

This is something you’d never known about Oberyn before, and honestly, you never really thought to ask. Everyone chooses their own path, but you are curious as to why he didn’t finish his studies. Surely, he’s dedicated enough, and smart enough, too. But alas, Oberyn can get bored fairly quickly.

The men and women quickly part, heading to their own respective spaces to freshen up before dinner is served. Anya simply can’t contain herself; she seems to be absolutely smitten by Arianne’s oldest brother. And Quentyn seems nice enough, maybe they’ll make a good pair.

“Where is Ambrose when you’re doing things like this?”

“Training,” you casually respond, applying your lipstick. “Surveying the grounds, tending to his duties.”

“Isn’t it weird to not have him around?”

You turn to her, furrowing your brow as you shrug. “Not really, why?”

“It’s just, we were always together growing up.”

“Anya, I know it’s hard, but we’ve grown up now. We’re all adults, and we all have our own responsibilities.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like I’m a child.” She scoffs, folding her arms. “I know we all have responsibilities.”

You’re a little surprised, she wasn’t usually so fiery. You raise an eyebrow at her, thinking to yourself before you respond. Anya’s immaturity always seemed to stand out to you; she showed it in little outbursts like this from time to time, but it wasn’t a frequent thing. She probably misses you, you and Ambrose. And now that you’re to marry the prince of Dorne, this is where you’ll stay, and likely where Ambrose will stay, too. You can see where this would be a little upsetting.

“Anya, I –”

“My Lady?” Amabel says, knocking softly.

You call her in, allowing her to open the door and summon you downstairs. While walking, you elbow her gently in the side.

“How are things with Ambrose?”

“My Lady,” she replies, a bit surprised you’d even ask.

She blushes outwardly, smiling to herself in her quiet response.

“Now that I’m staying, maybe he will too.” You inform her, smiling happily.

Although, you curse yourself internally for your loose lips. You know Anya had just gotten upset about this.

As usual, Oberyn stands upon seeing your entrance, smiling brightly, and admiring your appearance before striding over to you. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you in close as your hands grab his face. Although you’d normally delight in the prince’s mouth for as long as you wanted, regardless of whoever else was in the room, this time, you don’t. Your father is here, and he already seems to be at odds with your betrothed as it is. So, you end it quickly, earning a confused look from your older lover.

“Come on,” you whisper, smiling shyly and jerking your head to the side.

You lead him over to the table, his hand in yours as he trails behind. He admires you like this, the elegant form your dress outlines. Your father notices this, clearing his throat and drawing the prince’s eyes up from your backside and over to his glare.

“My Lord,” Doran suddenly says, referencing your father and then Anya. “My Lady, we’re honored to have you.”

“I’m honored to be present.” Your father replies, earning a pleasant smile from yourself.

Lord Doran sits at the head of the table, and out of respect, your father sits on the other end. You sit beside him, with Oberyn to your right, and Anya directly across. Quentyn sits beside her, an empty chair between him and his sister, who sits beside her own father. To your right is Oberyn, then Trystane and Myrcella. Next to Myrcella sits her uncle Jaime. What an odd gathering of people.

Just as you wonder who the empty seat is for, Ellaria strolls in. She takes the seat, sitting between prince Quentyn and princess Arianne. You look over to Oberyn, who also glances at you, and then to his brother.

“What do you think you’re doing? Do you truly have such hate for her?”

“Oberyn,” Doran begins, “Ellaria has posed a great threat to not only us but our guests as well. I have no issue in removing her once Myrcella is gone, but until then, we must appease her.”

“This is ridiculous, and you know it.” Oberyn snaps, infuriated that she’s still here in the first place.

“I know, Oberyn. But it won’t be for long.”

He storms down the corridor, away from his crippled brother and back to the dining hall where dinner is currently being served.

“Where did you go?” you ask, leaning over to whisper to him.

“I was speaking with Doran.”

You give him a questioning look, but he waves it off, telling you he’ll inform you of their conversation later tonight.

“My Lady,” Lord Vyrwel says, clearing his throat as he begins to speak. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“I am Ellaria, my Lord.” She responds, much kinder than you’d expect. “Mother to four of the prince’s children.”

“You have children?”

“Eight.” Oberyn responds, entirely proud.

“Eight? Savia, are you ready to take on such a burden?”

“It’s not a burden, father. They are all amazing young women.”

“Well then,” he huffs, setting his napkin down as he moves his attention away from his food and fully to the conversation at hand. “Am I right to assume you will not expect an heir from her?”

“Of course not, but I’m not opposed to another child. Nor is she.”

“You’ve discussed this?”

“Of course, we have.” you scoff, “We’re to be married, father.”

“Savia,” he says, his voice now stern. “You’re too young to take on such great responsibility.”

“I don’t believe you speak for her, anymore.” Oberyn interjects, your lover’s temper now returning.

He’d done his best to be polite, bowing to your father and excusing his curt remarks, but it’s clear he’s had enough. And honestly, so have you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Savia is to be a Martell, her family can aid in her decision making now.”

“I think we should all just, take a moment.” You softly suggest, sighing out before reaching forward for your glass of water.

“I understand your grievances, Lord Vyrwel.” Ser Jaime speaks up, “I myself have dealt with similar matters.”

“Uncle.” Myrcella quips, eyeing him as he sits to her right.

“Is that so, Ser Jaime? Dealing with your daughter being swept up and married off to some Dornishman?”

“Well, my niece, my Lord.”

“Pfft, your niece.” He scoffs, leaning in. “I’ve heard the rumors, Kingslayer.”

“Enough!” you shout, “Father, enough. You are a guest in what is now my home, and I had hoped you would act like it.”

“Savia,” Oberyn beckons, looking up at you as you stand.

“I’ve lost my appetite.” You seethe, glaring at your father as you toss down your napkin.

With that, you leave, storming off without looking back. And it’s a good thing too, because there’s no way you’d ever let half the people in that room see you cry. You hadn’t expected this at all. The last time you’d heard from your father, he was happy for you and Oberyn. Is his distaste simply because of the riot? Because Oberyn hadn’t asked permission first? He’s a prince! They don’t usually ask for permission anyways. Your father should be delighted, grateful, honestly, that his only daughter is to be married into a house as successful as the Martell’s.

“Oberyn,” she calls out, following him down the hall.

He turns, slowing his motions until he sees who exactly it is that’s calling him. Who is he kidding? He knew who it was from their voice.

“Ellaria, what do you need?” he asks, his own voice sounding tense and hurried.

“Don’t do this, don’t go after her.” She requests, “She’s not good for you, she doesn’t belong here, Oberyn. And you know it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You saw how she acted back there, storming out of the room like that, like a child. You deserve someone better.”

“Like whom? You?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “The woman who, just hours ago, poured wine all over Doran’s newest rug amidst a toast to our new king? The same woman who’d demanded respect after intruding upon the palace gates? The same woman who’d broken her faithfulness to the father of her children?”

He could go on and on, he really could, but he knows he needs to get to you, first. Ellaria’s face saddens, her hands now twiddling with the rings along her fingers. She sighs, looking down for a moment. When she looks back up, Oberyn is already gone.

“Oberyn, I don’t want to talk.” You huff out, turning away when he walks into your room.

You’re sitting on the balcony, your face now wiped clean on your tears and makeup. You’re sitting on the plush chaise lounge, your legs crosses and arms folded as you stew in your anger.

“My love,” he coos, kneeling down beside you. “What can I do?”

Gods, Oberyn never let you be mad. How could he when he saw you like this? His words always melted your heart, his sincere and caring nature breaking through your hard exterior.

“I don’t know.” You gently sigh out, unfolding your arms and placing a hand over his as it rests on your thigh. “I didn’t think he’d be so upset.”

“I’m sorry I did not ask for his blessing before taking your hand.”

“Oberyn,” you chuckle, “Don’t be. You’re prince, princes don’t ask for blessings, they give blessings. I mean, my father should be grateful that you chose me to be your wife!”

“I didn’t choose this.” He softly responds, reaching up to your cheek and urging you to look down at him. “You know this.”

“I know this.” You reply, almost instinctually.

“The gods chose this.” he goes on, “The gods chose to create us as one. And in a few days, they will do so again. If you’ll still have me.”

“What do you mean? Of course I will, Oberyn. You’re the love of my life, how could I not?”

“I don’t want to cause discord between you and your father.” He admits, his thumb stroking across the top of your hand.

“I don’t know what is causing discord between me and my father, but either way, it’s between me and him. My love, there isn’t a day that goes by where I wouldn’t want to wake up with you beside me.”

He smiles up at you, those beautiful lips curling delightfully as he rises to his feet. Oberyn sits beside you, leaning over and pulling your face to his. It’s a soft kiss, full of slow yet passionate connection.

“You are mine.” You express, “And I am yours.”

“Always.” He promises, nodding with a stern expression.

His devotion to you is awe-inspiring, your heart leaping into your throat as he stares deep into your eyes. You lean in, returning your lips to his as you grab the sides of his face. His own hands find your body, one on your cheek and the other wrapping around your back to pull you in.

Oberyn ends up rolling on top of you, his constant arousal for your body ever apparent as he rips open the front of your dress. You gasp out an excited giggle as he does so, watching him eagerly paw at your chest before sucking your nipple in to his mouth. While he licks over your breasts, he fumbles with his belt, quickly removing himself from the confines and his robes before lifting the hem of your dress up and over your waist.

“Oberyn,” you sigh out. “Your daughters, what if they see?”

“They’re all attending classes, my love.” he mumbles against your skin. “They won’t see.”

With that, you relax, fulling giving in to the pleasure that’s bound to consume your sooner or later. He lowers himself, his mouth diving down to your sex and immediately sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Oberyn!” you cry out, feeling him shove two fingers inside.

“You’re mine,” he sighs out, sloppily licking over your sex. “Mine.”

“I know.” you sigh out, nodding as your fingers tangle into his hair. “I know.”

A shudder runs through him at your words, at your submissive nature as you lay back at let him lick at you, let him dominate you.

“Please, baby…” you whimper. “Come up here.”

“Hm,” he hums, smirking devilishly against your lips. “I don’t know, I’m having quite a bit of fun down here…”

“Please.” You beg, “I can’t stand it any longer.”

“Are you captivated by me, little one?” he suddenly asks, staring up at you from between your legs.

“Yes.” You reply submissively, nodding down at him with innocent eyes.

“Mesmerized by the prince of Dorne?”

“Yes, my prince.” You continue, your breath picking up as his low voice speaks to you. “Very much so.”

Your forefinger lifts, lowering to run along his bottom lip. Your eyes scan his mouth, his plush lips as they sit inches from your own.

“So good,” he sighs, “So good for me, aren’t you?”

He smirks as he rises, hovering above your face.

“Yes, Oberyn. Always.”

With that, you pull him down, fisting your hands in the collar of his robe and forcing his lips onto yours. He props himself up on his forearm, his other arm lowering as he grabs himself in hand. He rubs his tip through your folds, lightly prodding at your entrance before slowly sliding inside. Gods, he fills you so nicely, stretching you wide and stuffing you full. It’s breath-taking, truly, the way he takes you, the way he feels inside you. Every time he moves, every time he throbs or twitches against your warm, velvety walls, is heaven on earth.

Oberyn lowers his head, resting it on your shoulder as he ruts into you, grunting with each thrust he gives. He whispers to you, whispers sweet nothings in your ear, only they aren’t nothings, they’re promises. Every beautiful thing he wants to do with you, every filthy thing he wants to do to you, slipping form his lips as he whispers his wishes into your ear.

“I’m going to make you my wife,” he breathes out, “I’ll make you a princess, a mother… the happiest woman in Dorne. Would you like that?”

“I would love that.” You purr, smiling through your bliss-filled state.

“I think about you,” he continues, “day and night, Savia, day and night.”

“Oh? And what exactly do you think about, my prince?”

“Your body,” he growls, his teeth nipping at your neck. “How badly I desire to lick every inch of you, to play with your beautiful body and watch you stretch for me… oh, how you stretch for me…”

“Yeah? Like this?” you purr, sliding your leg upward beneath him and throwing it over his shoulder.

This gives him better access to you, the act causing his eyes to roll back in his head. It’s at this angle where you hear those sounds, those gorgeous, wet, slippery sounds that only your bodies can create, specific to your lust and arousal and eternal love for the soul you are with, the soul that was painted the same.

His hips slam down onto yours, shoving himself as deep as he can go, over and over again. You gasp out with each thrust, moaning and whining as you fist his hair in your hands.

“I want everything, little one.” He groans, “Everything. Your mind, your body, your spirit. You are enthralling… absolutely addicting, and you’re mine.”

Oh, that nickname. What wonders it does to your mind. You melt beneath him, letting his strong frame fully exert itself down against your supple body, eagerly spread out before him.

“My vipera, my inamorata… my beautiful wife-to-be.”

“I can’t wait to be your wife, my love.” you express, sighing out a lazy smile. “To have you for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll never leave your side.” he vows, “Never.”

“You’ll never spend a day without my love.” you respond, the shockwaves vibrating through your hips becoming overbearing.

He feels amazing like this, but then again, we did he not? Oberyn’s cock gave you delirious amounts of bliss, whether it was shoved between the lips between your legs or the ones that smirked across your face. He never ceased to bring you pleasure in every way, in the very best of ways.

And suddenly, you look over, Oberyn rolling his head to the side with you. He mouths at your neck, only stopping once he sees what you do. She strolls out, no doubt hearing your desires unfold as she turns her own head in your direction. Ellaria scowls at the sight, causing Oberyn to smirk against your neck. He doesn’t stop, never stops, endlessly thrusting inside your aching cunt.

“Say it again.” he requests, looking down at your neck as his mouth returns to your skin. “Tell me you’ll marry me.”

He likes to tease, of course, but when his eyes leave Ellaria, so does his mind. Oberyn is positively obsessed with you, no matter who is around.

“I’ll marry you Oberyn,” you immediately comply, sighing out and smiling while continuing to hold her stare. “I’ll become your wife.”

“Gods,” he huffs out, “I love you, with every ounce of me, I love you.”

“I love you.” you return, closing your eyes as lust fills your veins. “Now cum inside me.”

“Hm,” he chuckles against your neck. “You want to feel me? Want me to flood you with my spend?”

“Gods, yes. Oberyn, please, just cum. Cum for me.”

He continues grunting out, his rough, hot breaths fanning out over your skin. His fingers curl into the hip, his tip now punching up against something devastating inside you as he fucks you in earnest.

You hear Ellaria stomp away, just barely, over the sound of your own cries. You cum just as Oberyn fills you, his hips jutting harshly against your own. Your walls squeeze him, milking him as you flutter around his length. He leaks inside you, pouring his cum into your warm, inner channel. It spreads beautifully, the pleasure he’s brought to your body, and the pleasure you’ve brought to his. If he was trying to make you feel better, this certainly did the trick.

“Ambrose!”

“Shh!” he chuckles, peppering her face with small kisses. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Well, no.”

“Then stay.” He encourages, feeling her slender fingers comb through his hair. “Stay with me, just for a while.”

“Uh… alright…” she giggles, feeling him move down to her neck.

“Quickly now!” a woman whispers, the pattering of footsteps swiftly following her lead.

Ambrose immediately lifts his head, both him and Amabel now quiet. He turns, huddling her further back into the side corridor as he listens to his surroundings.

“We must do this. And we must do it now.”

“Nym, you have the anecdote?”

“Yes, mother.” One of them replies, “We’ve been here for a week, I had more than enough time to find it.”

This causes Ambrose’s ears to perk; he knows that name, that’s one of the daughters than ran off with Ellaria. He decides to take a chance, his heart pounding in his chest as he peaks out over the column to his left. And he sees them, Ellaria surrounded by three other women.

“The Sand Snakes,” he whispers, continuing to listen in.

Most of their conversation is muffled, but he does hear something that is cause for concern.

“Before she leaves. We’ll be quick.” Ellaria says, “For Oberyn.”

“For Oberyn.”

“Savia!” he shouts, pounding on your door. His other hand holds Amabel’s, quickly shoving her along as soon as they could leave without being seen.

“She’s not here! What do we do?!” Amabel whispers, glancing around at their surroundings.

“Oh gods,” Ambrose suddenly realizes, “The docks.”

You and Oberyn were long gone, now standing at the ports just outside the palace gates. You’d walked the pathway down to the shoreline, making sure to bid Myrcella and Trystane their heartfelt goodbyes.

“You’ll have to bring me something back when you come home.” you request, hugging her tightly. “Something pretty.”

“What?” she giggles, pulling back. “So you can rip a hole in it again?”

“Only if I can teach you to sew it back up.” you retort, as cheesy a response as it may be.

Oberyn says his own goodbyes, the gold on his robe dazzling beautifully against the sun. The water is magnificently blue, shining brightly behind him as the Dornish rays beat down on the waves. He looks so good like this, so handsome in the bright light with the water flowing behind him.

As you’re saying goodbye, you see Ellaria approach from the corner of your eye. She’s accompanied by three women, something you don’t piece together until it’s too late. Oberyn turns too, once he’s finished bidding his nephew farewell. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by Ellaria’s sudden advance.

“Forgive me child.” She requests, running the back of her hand along Myrcella’s ivory-colored cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

And suddenly, she grabs her cheek, leaning in to give the princess a kiss. You’re taken aback by this, as is Lord Doran, his children, and his brother. Myrcella backs away, looking to her uncle and then back to Ellaria.

Once they board their boat, paddling off toward Myrcella’s ship a few yards out, Oberyn turns. He places a hand on your back as he gestures out.

“Savia, these are my eldest daughters.” Oberyn informs you, his voice a bit displeased. “Obara, Tyene, and Nymeria.”

“Hello,” you say, your voice entirely hesitant.

“Hello.” They respond back, each one at a time.

They say nothing more, prompting their father to speak.

“When did you arrive?”

“Oh, just recently.” Nymeria says, smiling sweetly at the prince.

“How long will you be staying?” Oberyn asks, not entirely pleased that they’ve come unannounced.

They all look to their mother, who replies. “Not long.”

“Excuse me,” you quickly say, side-stepping the small clan and making your way back to the palace. Oberyn follows, eyeing his family cautiously.

Earlier in the day, Oberyn had talked to you about moving your things into his chambers. You, of course, were thrilled at the offer. Upon returning to his chambers, you’re met with a flurry of servants doing just that.

“How do you like it, my love?” Oberyn purrs, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your midsection.

He kisses your cheek, pressing himself to your backside as he sighs out. But you’re not exactly in the mood for sex, right now, you’re in the mood for revelations.

“Oberyn,” you sigh, holding his forearms. “We have much more important things to talk about than the layout of our room.”

“Hm? Like what?” he hums, kissing along your jawline and roaming down to your neck.

He guides you over to the bed, spinning you around and urging you onto your back. The prince climbs over you, sighing deeply as he cups your breasts before planting his face between them.

“Oberyn!” you giggle, your hands flying to his hair.

He moans against you, grinding his hips down over yours. It’s clear to see that Oberyn can’t do anything else until he’s had his fill, and even as you stand here, his cum still dripping lightly down your inner thigh, he’s still as ravenous as ever. And you love this, not ever being able to get enough of each other.

“Oberyn…” you sigh out, throwing your head back as you comb through his locks.

Servants still scurry throughout the room, placing your attire next to his own in his wardrobe, setting your hygiene products in the bathroom, hauling in your trunks and art supplies. But as usual, Oberyn doesn’t care, he never cars about anything other than you.

But still, your mind wanders. Why are his three eldest daughters suddenly here? Why did they arrive unannounced? When will Ellaria leave? You have a terrible sinking feeling in your gut, but all of that terribleness is replaced by a thrilling sensation as the prince slips one finger inside.

“Baby, the maids…”

“Since when have you started caring about the maids?” he mumbles, still mouthing at your chest.

You sigh out a giggle, gracefully closing your lids as the prince begins to consume you with love. His one hand continues massaging your chest, the other pumping his finger in and out of your already wet channel. You lift one leg, planting your foot on the bed to give him better access. He groans at this, smiling against your skin as he slips a second finger inside.

“Gods…” you moan out, feeling him curl his thick digits inside.

“Does that feel good, my love? My vipera?”

“Hm…” you giggle, absolutely reveling in the new nickname. “Yes, my viper… you make me feel absolutely amazing…”

“Savia!”

“Fuck!” you shout, immediately sitting upright and unintentionally knocking Oberyn off your body.

“I need to, what the fuck?” Ambrose says, completely out of breath as he and Amabel stumble into your now shared room.

He looks around, acknowledging the multitude of maids and servants swarming your room. He opens his arms wide, an incredulous look on his face.

“Really? With everyone right here?” he exasperates, staring at your blushing face.

You giggle, shrugging as you look over to Oberyn, who’s currently licking his fingers clean. Good gods, this man truly does something to you…

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling you to his lips as he also leans in.

Ambrose huffs out, turning to look at Amabel. She too shrugs, casually ignoring your sexual acts.

“Are they always like this?”

“Pretty much.”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“We need to speak to Doran.” You demand, staring up into the guard’s eyes.

“It’s urgent.” Oberyn adds, “We need to see him.”

“This way.” Is all he says, turning to lead you down the corridor.

You follow him down a path you’d previously never known of, not necessarily in secret but definitely more secluded. The stone path opens up onto a terrace, the guard then gesturing out to the water gardens below. Across the way, you see him, Doran, sitting in his wheeled chair with Ellaria by his side. Nymeria, one of Oberyn’s eldest daughters, stands beside Lord Doran’s headguard. He looks as if he’s opening something, likely a scroll sent by raven.

Suddenly, Doran looks up, his eyes wide as he looks over to his head guard. Nymeria then stabs the guard in the back, causing him to collapse to the floor. Doran then looks to Ellaria, who is already pulling her knife. She stabs him directly in the chest, staring deep into his eyes. The maester that had delivered the letter turns to run, but Nymeria yanks her dagger from the headguards back, throwing it into the maester’s, too.

You gasp at the sight, the guard to your left immediately running to get help. You clutch Oberyn’s hand in your own as he stands beside you, horrified by the sight as well. The two of you watch as Doran reaches forward, a feeble attempt to grab Ellaria and fight back against the malicious woman, but she just grabs his hand and shoves him forward. Doran stumbles to the ground, bleeding profusely from his wound.

“When was the last time you left this palace?” She asks, watching him attempt to crawl away. “You don’t know your own people. Their disgust for you.” She scoffs, the surrounding guards just watching the event unfold.

“Why are they watching?” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Why aren’t they helping?”

“Elia Martell raped and murdered, and you did nothing. Her children butchered, and you did nothing. You’re not a Dornishman. You’re not our prince.”

“My sons…” he huffs out, “Arianne,”

Ellaria scoffs, rolling her eyes at his worry. She walks past him, her elegant voice speaking as she strolls by.

“Your sons are weak, just like you.” she then stops, looking down at him as he continues to bleed. “And weak men will never rule Dorne again.”

“Trystane,” you whisper, turning to face Oberyn. “Quentyn.”

Oberyn takes you by the hand, running off down the halls as he begins fearing for the safety of his family. Ambrose meets you in the hall, both he and Amabel panting out before you.

“We need to get somewhere safe.” You express, “Come, follow us.”

And they do, pattering down the hall as you glance at your surroundings, making sure you aren’t being followed. Oberyn leads you to your chambers, barring the doors and striding over to his armory. He takes out his most trusted weapon, the traditional Dornish spear that has slain so many.

“Do you have your sword?” he asks, turning to the knight.

Ambrose nods, unsheathing it from his side. He glances to you, then to his lover, before meeting the eyes of the prince.

“Oberyn,” you say, grabbing his bicep and looking at him with worried eyes. “What will you do?”

“I will protect my home, my family.” he says lowly, staring down at you. “Come with me.” He demands, walking toward Ambrose. “We will defend them together.”

“Oberyn,” you protest, reaching out for him again.

“Let me do this.” He demands, turning to face you. “Let me protect you.”

Regardless of your worry, both yours and Amabel’s alike, you stay, watching your lovers walk away with their weapons in hand. Oberyn orders you to bar the door once he’s gone, and you promise him you will. A promise you won’t keep, interlocking your fingers behind your back.

“Why won’t you?”

“What if they come back?” you respond, only locking the door’s deadbolt once they’ve gone.

But just as you’re discussing whether or not you should follow through on Oberyn’s orders, there’s a knock at the door. You each turn your heads, staring at the large wooden frames in shock as your hearts beat rapidly in your chests.

“Savia?” a woman calls, “We’re here to protect you.”

“Who are you?”

“Obara and Tyene Sand.” The one woman replies, “Children of prince Oberyn of Dorne.”

“I just watched your mother and sister assassinate Lord Doran!” you shout back, infuriated by their attempted tricks.

Silence, a pause, where no one speaks. Until Obara takes charge, demanding, “Open the door.”

“Fuck off.” you spit back, looking over at the prince’s still-open armory.

“What are you doing?” Amabel hisses, watching as you sift through the remaining weapons.

“Defending myself,” you reply, turning to face her with a dagger in hand. “And by the looks of it, I’ll have to defend you, too.”

Suddenly, the door’s wooden panels are broken, a Dornish spear thrusted through the boards. Amabel screams, and you shove her by the shoulder, pointing at your washroom.

“Get inside! Close the door!” you order, turning to face the intruders.

They continue to break down the door, piece by piece, inching closer and closer. Once they’re created a hole large enough to fit through, they climb inside, moving quickly to stand before you.

“A dagger?” Tyene scoffs, chuckling as she glances at her sister. “A fair fight.”

Tyene had been trained, just like her sisters, by the skill and knowledge of their father. While Obara, the eldest, chose to follow in her father’s footsteps with the traditional Dornish spear, Tyene took a different approach. She chose a more impulsive weapon, short daggers for quick attacks. You were also aware that she often poisoned her blades, a skill also taught by her father. Surely, Oberyn never would have thought such knowledge would be used against the love of his life.

You notice the end of Obara’s spear is bloodied, and you fear the worst, furrowing your brow at the red liquid as it drips. You swallow, readying your stance as you glance between them.

“We know you are a noblewoman.” Obara begins, slowly circling you. “Surely you aren’t trained in these arts.”

“Why don’t you come and find out?” you offer, your voice soft as you steady your inner emotions.

She then strikes, the swift movement catching you off-guard, but not enough to hit you with its end blade. You turn on your heel, quick to dodge the attack of the second sister, thrusting one her blades through the air. You lean backward from her blow, taking one step back and keeping the other out. She trips, cutting her own hand as she stumbles to the floor. Obara moves to strike again, leaving her midsection wide open. You shove yourself forward, bending below her blow as you thrust the dagger into her side. She staggers, gasping out a bit. You quickly stand, tugging the blade from her ribcage and using your free hand to disarm her.

“Fuck!” you screech, feeling a blade slash your lower calf.

You spin around, glancing down at Tyene as she scrambles toward your feet. A quick kick to her face spurts blood from her mouth, spattering in onto the beautifully carved-out floor. With your left foot, you swipe a blade from her hand, immediately kneeling down to stab her in the back.

The doors to your room burst open, a frightened Ambrose rushing through. He stops once he sees you, surrounded by blood as it now drips into the pool at the center of your room, both women lying helplessly on the ground. Weapons are scattered around you; a few small blades along with Obara’s large, Dornish spear.

“What,” he gasps out, “What happened?”

Oberyn is more than at odds with himself. His children will always be his children, no matter what happens, but he knows they are in the wrong. He knows you were protecting yourself.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, eyeing you as you sit on the table.

You’d be taken downstairs to a cellar beneath the palace grounds. Milena is here, healing your wounds while the guards take Ellaria and her three children to their cells.

“I’m fine,” you reply, looking down at Milena’s work. “I’m sorry about your daughters.”

“They’ll live.” He replies, lightly shrugging it off. “You did what you had to.”

During the fight you’d been cut on your calf and your arm, the depth of your lower wound severe enough to earn stitches. Oberyn winces at your every grunt, holding your hand as you rest on your stomach. Your hand had been patched up, fully cleaned and wrapped in sterilized cloth.

Oberyn and Ambrose never even got to the Sand Snakes and Ellaria; two of them had come for you, leaving Ellaria and Nymeria to run about the grounds. They had assassinated prince Quentyn, along with prince Trystane. They’d climbed aboard the ship, killing the prince Trystane as he was on his way to King’s Landing, before leaping into the water and swimming back to the palace to go and find you. Eventually, though, the four of them were caught, each given their own cell beneath the palace grounds.

“I have to say,” Oberyn murmurs, “I’m quite impressed.”

You glance up at him, smiling at his admiration.

“I didn’t know you could fight like that.”

“Honestly,” you sigh out, “I didn’t either. I didn’t know I’d remember as much as I did.”

“Remember?”

“Y-yes.” you wince, feeling the stiches close your wound. “When I was younger, I trained, learning enough to defend myself and keep my enemy down.”

“I’m proud of you.” he replies, emotion in his voice. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Oberyn.” You calmly respond, “Everything is okay now, my prince.”

You do your best to reassure him, but no matter what you say, things aren’t okay. His brother, his two nephews, his niece-in-law, they’re all dead. Ellaria claimed she did it for him, they all did. But killing his family didn’t earn Oberyn’s love and trust, it only furthered them from it, no matter how much they’d tried to explain it away.

“Shh…” you coo, combing your fingers through his hair. “Shh…”

Oberyn lays between your thighs as you rest on your back on the bed. His arms are wrapped around you, his head laying on your chest as you hold him in your arms. You’d never seen him like this before, so vulnerable and bare. While the chaos throughout the palace was soon calmed, his inner turmoil did anything but.

“My love,” you sigh out, feeling his body shudder on yours.

Tears stream down your own face, both for your fallen family and for your lover. You can’t believe she’s done this, done this to him and the family you’ve grown to call your own. How could she possibly think this would win Oberyn over?

“Doran, my nephews.” He gasps, holding you tighter.

Due to their close nature, Arianne had sided with Ellaria and her cousins once they attempted to take over, earning herself a spot next to them in her own cell. Such amazing people, gone, and for what? Because Myrcella was related to the Lannisters? Because Doran put her in her place? Because Quentyn and Trystane did not fit her image of the male ruler of Dorne?

“She was so sweet.” You whimper, your own emotions beginning to show.

You’d tried to put on a brave face for him, but you can’t do it anymore. Their losses were tearing you apart, ripping at your insides with frustration and angst. Doran was arrogant, but he was good, as good as a ruler can be, anyway. Trystane and Myrcella, they would have been an amazing couple, they would have done so much to change this horrible world. Quentyn was kind, gentle, traits not often seen among nobility.

Myrcella won’t be returning from King’s Landing with a pretty new dress for you. Trystane won’t return home a more educated man due to his new diplomatic status. Quentyn would never again smile bashfully in your presence. You would never get the chance to revive your relationship with your now deceased brother-in-law. But what you still have a chance at, is vengeance.

And by the Seven gods, you will avenge them.

Detailed Chapter Summary

Your father arrives in Dorne, along with your best friend, Arya. Furious with Oberyn, your father blames him for your injuries, disapproving of your engagement.

Along with Ellaria, she brought her and Oberyn’s three eldest daughter’s, each trained in combat, each with a strong hatred of you. And in turn, a strong hatred for the rest of their family, the ones who accepted you. In the shadows, the four of them go on a murder spree, killing Doran, his two sons, and Myrcella. Oberyn’s niece, Arianna, is spared.

You are saved from an attack, but the rest of the Dornish family isn’t as lucky as you. Oberyn’s emotional state crumbles, having lost nearly his entire family, aside from you and his daughters. He’s unsure what to do, but he knows he will avenge them.

Chapter Eleven: Let Me Please You

Insatiable Taglist: @pascalslittlebrat @serenaisavillain @yourwonderbelle @mishasminion360

General Taglist: @anaaaispunk @dihra-vesa @sweetangel0069 @coaaster

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makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 306: the beginning of the WHAT

Previously on BnHA: Nana and the Gang were all, “hey Deku, we can read your thoughts and feelings so we should already know the answer to this, but for some reason we want to quiz you on whether or not you’d be down to kill Shigaraki Tomura.” Deku was all, “um okay, well tbh, probably not seeing as Saving People has been my entire thing since literally the start of the series.” The Vestiges were all, “yes that makes perfect sense and again we already knew that, but well, good for you buddy and I’m glad we had this talk. Anyway I guess we should ask these two cryptic fuckers in the corner to finally turn around now before we run out of -- ” and then the chapter ended. Because OF COURSE IT DID.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, WOULDN’T IT BE SO MUCH BETTER IF I GAVE YOU A CONFUSING CHAPTER WHERE EVERYONE FINALLY LEARNS ABOUT OFA, AND GOES BACK TO THE DORMS, AND THEN THE CHAPTER ENDS WITH DEPRESSED NOMAD DEKU STANDING ON A PRECIPICE WITH GRAN TORINO’S TATTERED CAPE FLOWING IN THE WIND.” Everyone is all, “???????????” Horikoshi is all, “also the parents are moving to the U.A. campus, and Jeanist’s neck is two and a half feet long, for everyone that was wondering.” Everyone is all, “WHERE ARE KACCHAN AND TODOROKI AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHO ARE THE SECOND AND THIRD USERS”, and Horikoshi is all, “:)” and fades away into nothingness like the fucking fae he is. Like a fucking imp who’s kept his end of the cursed bargain. What, the, fuck.

okay guys, so after the longest Thursday of my fucking life, during which I was secretly hoping that my spoiler containment net would be somehow be breached, inadvertently exposing me to theta spoiler radiation, so that I could be all “oh no... spoilers... there’s nothing I can do... I have no choice but to look” (which sadly did not happen), it is finally Friday and the chapter is finally out. so I’ve got my clown kit at the ready and other self-deprecating memes on standby, and I’m ready to go. and I should note that I’m also ready for Horikoshi to pull some absolute bullshit and be like, “oh you know what, we haven’t checked in with Rat Principal in a while have we” and spend the entire chapter on nonsense like that. I’M READY FOR FUCKING ANYTHING so bring it

(ETA: it would be nice if this man wouldn’t call my bluff every now and again.)

oh, right, we were due a color page! wow look at this

isn’t this supposed to be the future?? what’s with all of these staticky CRT TVs

anyway, so! is this the first time we’ve seen Tomura’s stylish finger prosthetic glove thingy in color?? because I didn’t expect it to be red. also, at some point you just have to give in and change your pants into cutoffs or something, Tomura. start a new trend of stylish villain capris

meanwhile Deku is dressed like he’s going on a journey into the desert to find a mystical oasis. actually this cape looks a lot like Gran Torino’s. I have to go back and see if Gran’s is all raggedy like this

(ETA: it wasn’t before but APPARENTLY IT IS NOW. I also forgot that Horikoshi had showed it sitting on a side table in the hospital a few chapters ago.)

lastly, AFO looks like someone’s thumb after they’ve been washing dishes for twenty minutes. you are just the ugliest dude in history, and as always, fuck you

HAHAHA SOB I KNEW IT

oh, Twowy McTwoface is finally starting to turn around? better CUT BACK TO DEKU’S HOSPITAL ROOM THEN. wouldn’t want to accidentally ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS or SOLVE ANY MYSTERIES, god forbid

well, whatever. whatever!! anyway so now someone’s knocking at the door. I say “someone” but we all know it’s Hawks

yep

they were actually standing outside the door for a while hoping they’d overhear another juicy plot conversation, but no such luck this time

lmaooo Jeanist wtf

acting all embarrassed, but you’re really just as curious as Hawks is. making him do all the dirty work for you huh

ARE YOU SERIOUS THIS IS AN INJUSTICE

so like two seconds after Katsuki gets dragged away you open the door for the rest of them!! well, fine!! I really want it to be a more private/personal moment between the two of them anyway so let the other kids check in on Deku first then

and in the meantime, time to see Hawks put the thumbscrews to All Might’s resolve lol

I wonder how much of it Hawks has already put together in the last five minutes. One for All is something connected to All for One that Tomura seems to want. Tomura was apparently targeting Deku. that’s more than enough to make a few deductions right there. I wonder how much Hawks knows about Deku’s quirk. he did watch the sports festival, and he ran into the kids interning under Endeavor that one time

okay well maybe he hasn’t put the rest of it together just yet, but Hawks is making a pretty reasonable pitch here to All Might

also this is a pretty spectacular view. is this a hospital or a hotel??

AHLKJLKJLKJ ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO TELL THEM

OH MY GOD HE IS?!?!

JUST LIKE WE ALL EXPECTED, THE NEXT TWO PEOPLE TO LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT OFA ARE GOING TO BE HAWKS, AND BEST FUCKING JEANIST

-- LFKLKKLDK ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. ARE YOU --

( •̀_•́ )

[sitting cross-legged on the ground pulling up little clumps of grass and letting them fall from my fingers one by one] yeah. sure. okay. fine. sure

-- OKAY, NO. NUH-UH. NO

everybody better hold tight cuz I’m about to pick up this whole chapter and yeet it into the ocean like a fucking frisbee lol

HORIKOSHI I DON’T CARE ABOUT THESE PEOPLE SITTING HERE WATCHING TV WTF

-- OH

well okay then. proceed. though lord help me if they’re about to reveal the secret of OFA to the whole fucking world skdkj

oh snap

well, there it is. pretty much what I expected, but it’s good to actually get to see this moment with him taking responsibility

though at the same time, thank you Horikoshi for not forcing us to sit through the rest of that

their fucking faces omg. okay but seriously, what nation doesn’t secretly love a good scandal

the Endeavor Pamphlets, part two. thank you for giving the country something to opine about on twitter in these trying times, Enji

so now they’re asking about Hawks and Jeanist but I cannot even focus on anything all of a sudden because what?!

is Jeanist even a real actual human being you guys?! are we sure he’s not three kids sitting on each other’s shoulders?? are you related to that one guy with the really long neck from the Jedi Council?? are you Orochimaru, bro??

so now Hawks is apologizing for the murder of Twice, and for hiding the connection with his dad

the fact that he has to give this serious formal apology and beg forgiveness for the shameful crime of Having An Abusive Father is really something else, though. just. it’s realistic, but I still hate it

moving on now to the one thing he actually does owe the public an explanation for

not to go all “Hawks did nothing wrong” on you guys yet again, but seriously. 100% facts. fandom can (and no doubt will) debate this until the end of time, but if Twice had gotten away they wouldn’t be having this press conference right now because there wouldn’t be any heroes left to give one. anyways though, I’ve already said more than enough about that in previous posts

so now some severe-looking lady with the weirdest fingers I’ve ever seen is saying that her mother was injured during Machia’s rampage

and she’s basically all “a fuck lot of good ‘I’m sorry’ does us all about now.” true true

wow she’s really getting fired up

and now Enji is basically saying that he understands that an apology isn’t enough, and what they really need now are solutions. okay, well! SO THEN WHAT IS THE PLAN THEN

hmmfsdgh

this eloquent PEZ dispenser makes a good point you guys

wait, hold up

CERTAIN citizens?? um excuse me, what??

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shit

holy shit. well, this will go over well

okay! so this tells me a number of things, though

basically the minute that Hawks learned about One for All, he realized that anyone connected to Deku (e.g. Inko) would be a target for AFO. AFO wants OFA, meaning AFO wants Deku, and one of the easiest ways to get to Deku would be to target his family

Hawks therefore realized that Inko needed to be placed into protective custody

but the fact that ALL of the hero course students’ families (and is it only the U.A. hero course, or all of the hero course students across the country?) are being given protection tells me that Hawks and co. don’t want to single Deku out as being important. so then it looks like they’re not going to tell everyone about OFA (or at least not the public. which, good). so rather than drawing suspicion by saying “we’ve got to protect everyone connected with this one kid”, they’re making it seem like all the U.A. kids’ families are getting this treatment

but since the heroes are now spread so thin, they can’t just send a protective detail to each and every family, so they’re bringing all of the families to the same place instead to better keep an eye on them

so that’s all well and good, and a very smart move. except that idk how all of this is going to go over with the general public, all of whom are probably feeling unsafe at the moment, and who will probably see this as preferential treatment -- basically just the heroes looking after their own and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves

(ETA: okay so @hanashimas’ translation clarifies that U.A. is offering their services as an evacuation shelter for everyone who wants it, not just the families of the U.A. students. that’s much more appropriate so I withdraw my previous “wtf” reaction lol.)

anyway though here’s Mitsuki and Inko

can we take this as confirmation that the two of them really are friends? that’s one piece of fanon that I’ve always hoped was true, so I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s confirmed

(ETA: also this means that Hagakure’s parents (or maybe “parents” in quotation marks) will supposedly be moving in as well. sure am curious as to how that’s going to go.)

now someone in the press crowd is asking whether U.A. can provide adequate security, which is honestly the LAST thing I expected these people would be outraged about lol. shows what I know I guess

(ETA: again though, this makes sense if the “certain civilians” thing was just a translation error.)

LMAO DAMMIT ENJI

YOU CAN’T JUST ALWAYS PULL THE “JUST WATCH ME” TRICK AND EXPECT IT TO SHUT DOWN THE CONVERSATION EVERY DAMN TIME YOU ASSHOLE

-- OH MY GOD RED ALERT

TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BECAUSE OMG

WASH CAN’T BELIEVE HIS FAMILY GROUP CHAT IS STILL SENDING HIM FUCKING MEMES AT A TIME LIKE THIS. HE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK IF THE DABI DANCE IS TRENDING ON TIKTOK, MOM!!

FOR A MINUTE I THOUGHT MT. LADY WAS HOLDING MIDNIGHT’S TORN-UP MASK, AND BY THE TIME I REALIZED THAT’S ACTUALLY HER MASK AND NOT MIDNIGHT’S, I HAD ALREADY CONSTRUCTED AN ELABORATE HEADCANON IN WHICH MT. LADY AND MIDNIGHT WERE SECRETLY DATING BUT HADN’T COME OUT TO ANYONE YET, AND THEN TRAGEDY STRUCK, AND NOW MT. LADY IS GETTING READY TO SET OUT TO SEEK VENGEANCE. AND WELL, NOW THAT THIS HEADCANON EXISTS IN THE WORLD, I’M NOT SURE IF I’M READY TO GET RID OF IT

MIRKO HAS GOTTEN HERSELF A PROSTHETIC (ROBOT??!) ARM, NOTHING ELSE THAT’S HAPPENING IN THIS CHAPTER IS EVEN SLIGHTLY IMPORTANT!!! HELLO!!!!!

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH GOOD LORD. THE WORLD ISN’T READY. HE LOOKS LIKE HE HASN’T SLEPT IN NINETY-EIGHT YEARS, BUT SOMEHOW HE MAKES IT INTO THE HOTTEST THING EVER AS PER USUAL

WHO THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING GUY. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HIM? IS THIS KAMUI?? WAS THAT THING WHICH I ALWAYS ASSUMED WAS HIS HAIR ACTUALLY A HELMET OR SOMETHING WHAT

LOL AND MEANWHILE

you tell me, Dabi! weren’t you the one who said that wouldn’t be enough to kill him? what even is your endgame here. I’m starting to worry about the villain brain cell supply you guys. I feel like Compress took most of them with him when he left

OH??

“when asked about One for All, Endeavor fucking lied through his teeth.” well, well, well

SLKDFJLSKGDJLKLKGJL THE DORMS

( ⁰ ⌂ ⁰ )

SLDKJFLKJWLKJLK

WLKDJSLKJFWKELKSDJLKHGLK

HDSMFLKGKL:GDSELK

OCHAKO’S HAND IS SHAKING OH MY GOD

THERE’S YOUR KAMINARI, EVERYONE!!

RHA’S SCANLATION TEAM REALLY THREW DEKU’S HANDWRITING UNDER THE BUS HERE HUH

HE TOLD EVERYONE!?

WHY THE FUCK IS HE WRITING IT AS A LETTER

(ETA: 9. also if he really wrote every kid in his class then that means the U.A. traitor -- or Hagakure as we like to call her around these parts -- also knows about OFA, and knows that Deku has run the fuck off and isn’t at U.A. anymore. so that’s just great!)

OH HELL NO

the hell does that mean, you must leave. leave to go where. son you are not up and leaving to go power up and lead us all into a timeskip. and I swear to GOD, if you left Kacchan too...!!

MY GOD I CAN’T PROPERLY ABSORB ALL OF THESE OCHAKO FEELS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO TERRIFIED TO SCROLL TO THE LAST FUCKING PAGE, FUCK

I JUST GOTTA DO IT. I JUST GOTTA SUCK IT UP AND DO IT. FUCK

FUCK

WHAT. THE. FUCK

y’all I’m not even gonna waste your time with more keysmashing, JUST ASSUME THAT I AM DOING IT NONSTOP, FOREVER. and let’s just jump RIGHT IN HERE

okay so here I thought that All Might and co. had taken him away somewhere to train, but that is CLEARLY not what’s going on here. this kid is standing here in his Apocalypse Aesthetic hero costume which has CLEARLY seen better days, with Gran Torino’s cloak (GUESS THAT EXPLAINS THAT, THEN?? SO DID GRAN FUCKING DIE EXCUSE ME WTF), and a fucking backpack. this little green idiot has RUN AWAY FROM HOME. this is the absolute LAST THING ON EARTH I ever expected to happen so PARDON ME WHILE I SCREAM CONFUSEDLY INTO THE VOID

he does not look okay. you guys he doesn’t look okay at ALL. he has NEVER looked like this. this isn’t just a “I’m sad because I’m leaving all my friends behind” kind of look on his face, or even just a “Gran Torino died maybe and I’m still having emotions over it” look. this is an EXHAUSTED, dead look in his eyes. something terrible has happened

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARMS DEKU. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS GODDAMMIT

love how this random building is just straight up collapsing, like that’s just a normal thing that happens every day now. lovely

APRIL MEANS IT’S NOW FULL ON SCHEDULED ALL-MIGHT-DYING-HOURS, BUT LET’S COMPLETELY IGNORE THAT THOUGH BECAUSE FUCK THAT NOISE

“THE SECOND USER? WHO KNOWS? CERTAINLY NOT ME” HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD

“BAKUGOU? NEVER HEARD OF HIM!” HORIKOSHI PLEASE

WHERE. IS. KACCHAN

did he go with Deku?? did he get a chance to talk to him before he left?? did he get his own private letter which he read and then promptly blew up in a fit of panicked rage?? is he going to go after him?? DOES HORIKOSHI KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING TO ME RIGHT NOW?? OF COURSE HE DOES, DON’T BOTHER ANSWERING THAT

omg. though actually the fact that we’ve already jumped a few weeks forward makes me hopeful that there won’t actually be another timeskip, or at least not much of one. I’m sure that’ll be the big debate of the week, but I don’t think we can jump too far forward here. for starters because of that All Might prophecy I mentioned. and also because TomurAFO isn’t just going to wait around for months. and also because I’m 100% sure that Deku’s running-away backpack is just filled ENTIRELY WITH NOTEBOOKS and this asshole cannot possibly survive more than 3 days on his own. UNLESS SOMEONE COMES TO HELP HIM THAT IS. OR SOMEONES, EVEN. OMG. omg omg omg. fuck this chapter lmao

#bnha 306 #midoriya izuku #hawks (bnha)#takami keigo #endeavor #todoroki enji #best jeanist #all might #uraraka ochako #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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shydragonrider · 3 years

Text

Torn - Part 1

Summary: Strife had always been untouchable, arrogant, and ruthless. A vicious Supervillian. It took more than Pandora, or Glory, as she was called in public, knew she had in her to bring him down. But this sets in motion events that Hero could never have imagined.

Warnings: Detailed death threat, swearing, name calling, vomit, extremely violent whump, vivisection, smug whumpee breaking, infection, graphic infection, fever, delirium, panic, scared whumpee, sick whumpee, begging, crying, restraints, violent torture.

Tagging @whumpwillow, because I saw the idea on her blog, and @equestrianwritingsstuff, who encouraged me to write this.

Update, changed their names

“I’ll kill you for this, you little bitch.” Strife snarled, as he was dragged towards the prison transport. “When I get my hands on you, I will break you, body and spirit.”

You already have. Pandora thought, as he was dragged into the truck. She was breathing hard, her heart racing, her body bruised and battered from the fight. She could barely stand up, and she had come so close to dying in that fight. forty-five minutes of being thrown around by that brute. She wanted to cry. She’d been so scared the whole time, so scared that one of his custom made knives would find one of her vital organs, and tear the life out of her.

“And then I’ll fucking strangle you.” Strife shouted, even as the doors slammed shut.

Pandora groaned, closing her eyes. She felt sick, and she knew she had at least three broken ribs.

But I finally beat you, you monster. She thought, clinging to the miracle that was her victory. They’ll lock you away, and I’ll never see you again.

It brought a little comfort when she thought of it that way. He’d never menace her again, never injure her again. The whole city was safe from him.

Pandora made her way home, limping down the rainy streets and back alleys, avoiding people as best she could. No one knew her real identity, and she didn’t want that to change.

When she got inside, it took all of her effort not to faint right there in the front hall. Shivering, she climbed the steps, and made it into the bathroom. She staggered over to the sink, and threw up. Exhausted, she rinsed the sink, and climbed into the shower, watching as blood from various cuts washed down the drain.

*********

Damian growled, tugging against the restraints on his arms. If that little brat Glory hadn’t stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong, then he wouldn’t be in this situation.

Insufferable little twit. She’ll pay for this. He thought, watching as his jailer picked up one of his knives.

“Be careful, they’re sharp.” Damian sneered, feeling only the faintest flicker of alarm as the man walked towards him, and placed the tip of the blade at his solar plexus.

“Oh, I’m aware.” The man replied, pressing ever so slightly.

Damian hissed as blood began to run out of the small cut. “If this is meant to scare me-”

“It’s not meant to scare you. It’s meant to break you.” His captor smiled, and dug the knife in deeper, before tugging it down. Damian gasped, trying to squirm away. The restraints made it impossible. As the knife continued its downward path, Damian screamed, again trying to thrash around. By the time his captor drew back, the cut extended from his solar plexus to below his naval.

The man walked over to a table with various metal tools, and selected something that looked like it came from a medieval torture chamber. Unfortunately, Damian could guess its purpose; to hold the wound open.

“N-no.” He stammered, overwhelmed by the terror and pain. “No, p-plea...please. Y-you c-can’t do this.”

“You don’t seem to be in any position to stop me.” The man noted, and got back to his work.

**********

1 week later

********

The phone rang at three in the morning. Groaning, Pandora answered it.

“Mmmmf?” She mumbled, still half asleep. Had she not been, she would have realized that this was the untraceable phone the police sometimes called her from. That sank in the moment a quiet voice spoke.

“Glory? Is this Glory?

Pandora sighed. “Yes, this is Glory.”

“You have to get Strife out of the prison.”

Oh great, a crank call.

“Why would I do that?” She asked in a low voice, the one she used in public.

“They’re torturing him. They... Glory please, they vivisected him.”

All the edges of sleep vanished, and Pandora bolted up.

“They. Did. What?” She asked.

“Vivisected him. I saw it happen.”

“Who are you?”

“A prison nurse.” Came the hushed voice. “Please, he’s unguarded. You could get in through the window. Cell 10. Isolation. Oh, please come.”

With that, the line went dead.

Hero frowned. It could be a trap, but if it wasn’t she couldn’t leave Strife to be tortured, no matter how much she hated him.

After setting fire to an empty wing of the ward to create a distraction, she did end up climbing in the window, which, thankfully, was on the first floor, and sneaking down the hall of the isolation ward until she came to cell ten.

Carefully, she wired the code box on the door, and it slid open. As she entered the dimly lit room, she carefully covered the camera with her jacket.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she took in the sight of the supervillain.

He was lying on his back, very thoroughly restrained. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his trembling body drenched in sweat. His eyes were open, staring at nothing.

“Shit.” Pandora breathed, and crept closer, feeling nausea rise in her throat as she saw the crudely stitched wound on Strife’s abdomen. It was oozing both blood and pus.

“Hey.” Pandora murmured, gently placing her hand on his wrist.

The man whimpered, trying to pull away.

“No.” He whined, drawing the word out until it was more of a whimper.

“Ssssshhhh. Sssssshhhh, it’s alright.” Pandora soothed, and began undoing the restraints.

“Saving your nemesis dear?” A voice asked. Pandora whipped around, drawing her gun.

The man facing her looked ordinary enough, except for his eyes. They were soulless, empty.

“Saving someone who needs my help.”

“He’s a menace.”

“And you cut him open. Tore him apart.” Pandora snarled. At the words, Strife began to sob, begging incoherently.

“And you’re next.” The man said, picking up a scalpel.

“Think so?” Pandora asked sweetly, and squeezed the trigger of the tranquilizer gun. The bolt hit the man square in the neck, and he staggered backwards. Taking advantage of his shock, Pandora used the butt of the gun to hit him over the head. He fell to the floor, unconscious, and Pandora quickly returned to the delirious supervillain’s side.

Senseless with fever, he moaned and begged incoherently as she freed him from the leather straps.

Carefully, she wheeled the stretcher he was lying on over to the door, and down the empty hall. It seemed that most of the guards were still occupied with her distraction, and Pandora was able to sneak out the emergency exit with Strife.

Finally, she carefully got him into her car, and laid him on the back seat, careful not to aggravate the massive wound on his stomach any more than it was already.

With a heavy heart, she drove home.

Parking in the garage, she carefully hauled Strife inside, and tried to carry him up the stairs, in the end, she had to drag him, though his squeaks of pain made her stomach twist.

Finally, she hauled him into the guest bed, and examined his mutilated stomach.

“Plea...se.” Strife moaned. “No... more...”

“Sssshhh. It’s alright now. I’m going to fix... this.”

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Note

Can I request HSP + depression reader (who thinks they are just weak and being crybaby) x Bucky, please? I understand you are super busy right now and I didn’t mean to rush you or anything but I'm just struggling with both HSP and depression and couldn’t help but send it right now. No need to hurry, just when you are free and maybe when you had nothing to write. Thank you and I love you!

Thank you for the request, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult time for you! I’m here if you need me and I hope that this helps!!!

It’s called empathy

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1981

Warnings: depression, HSP (highly sensitive person), low self worth, negative self talk, swearing (that’s normal for me but this one’s a little extra), angst (more so internal idk if that needs a warning), fluff/comfort

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @buckys-blue-eyes @strawberrimae @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing

Taglist Masterlist

--------------

Breathe in

Breathe out

Out

...in…

You felt a tear escape your eyes

Goddamn it

You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. It was stupid, it was just some shitty remark from someone when they were in a shitty mood, it wasn’t your fault, all that bullshit you tried to tell yourself. It never worked.

You were trying to control your breathing, looking up at the ceiling trying to will the tears away, biting your lip. You would not cry, not over this. Not over something that wasn’t worth your tears

Not when you didn’t even know what exactly you were crying over.

Yet here you were, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink with white knuckles, looking up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay. And it wasn’t working.

Weak sensitive piece of shit.

What good were you to the team if you cry in the bathroom like a baby every time something remotely stressful happens? People usually cry when they're in pain or when they’re grieving - the only excuse you had was you were stressed or sad.

You felt another few tears escape and you angrily swiped them away, cursing yourself for being so weak.

You hated this, you hated yourself. You were so numb most of the time, especially when you were alone. You found yourself alone in your room with racing thoughts feeling like you were falling apart. Yet when you were alone you could only stare at the ceiling wondering if it would get any worse.

The answer was usually yes.

Whenever you would go on missions with the team, you were able to push aside your stress. You had a job to do and you would do it. But when the mission was over and you were walking back through the rubble - seeing all the blood, destruction, fear - then it would start to get to you. You would panic, you would feel tears cloud your vision. Tears for those you were leaving behind, and those who had nowhere to go, those who lost someone. That was understandable.

It seemed to affect you more than the others though. It was understandable to be moved by so much destruction. But for you everyone felt like someone you had known and loved.

You could feel the grief in those left behind, feel the sadness and pain that they were going through.

The same was true when you weren’t on missions. When those who were on them would come back. Whether they were injured or their eyes were saddened - you knew when a mission was rough. You would listen, you would be there for people. It was easy to talk to you, and you were very wise.

But it still overwhelmed you. You couldn’t say no, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help but it would be so emotionally taxing for you. So behind closed doors, you would break. Be there for others, listen when they need to talk, others come first - you took their emotional pain onto yourself.

You were grateful that you could help - but in the process it was hurting you.

You allowed yourself to feel sad when you were alone in your room. No one could see you be weak in the dark of your room. But you never cried much just from the pure exhaustion of your thoughts. Sometimes you wanted to, just feeling so incredibly empty that you just wanted to have an ugly crying session curled up in bed.

But you didn’t get to make that choice.

The crying wouldn’t come until the absolute worst times. If you had messed up on a mission, if Tony said something a little too harshly because to him everything was a joke, seeing something gruesome on a mission- whenever it came to someone else getting involved, the tears would come. Hell sometimes even being overwhelmed in public would be enough to start the waterworks.

You always felt so fucking weak for it. The slightest environmental stressor could stress you out too much and move you to tears. You had no reason to be upset most of the time. But you would get angry at yourself for being upset, which would make you more upset that you couldn’t control it, making it harder to control.

It was a vicious cycle.

Lately it had been popping up more and more recently. Smaller things were upsetting you more than usual. You were becoming more sensitive to external stimuli and as a result, you spent as much time as you could in your room. You were embarrassed by yourself. Both by your emotions and by your inability to control them.

This time you were just upset that you were upset. It had been a long night the day prior, just a lot of paperwork to do. There had been a mission earlier this week that you hadn’t been assigned to, but it had been brutal for everyone who had gone. So far today had been a normal day by anyone’s terms, an emotionally exhausting one for you. One of those where you woke up tired and the thoughts of another day were enough to draw you to tears. Nothing had even happened, but apparently nothing needed to happen.

Your emotions came and went without your consent.

You knew deep down it was probably some sort of emotional build up - that whole quote about bottling things up until they got to be too much - it happened every time but you still thought you could handle yourself better than that. You didn’t want to vent or be a problem to anyone. But when you are the emotional support for most of the team and you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or take time for yourself - you didn’t have much of a say as to when the bottle overflows.

A few more tears fell and you slammed your hand on the counter, wiping your tears angrily once more. “God fucking damn it why can’t you just stop fucking crying!” you exclaimed, feeling a few more tears falling “Weak piece of shit!”

There was knocking on the door, pulling you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You gasped lightly, wiping your face again.

Knock knock

You jumped a little, gasping slightly. No one was supposed to be here, it was the middle of the night.

“Y/n? What’s going on in there? Are you alright?”

You took a shaky breath. Of course it would be Bucky who heard you. Why would it be anyone else?

“I’m fine Bucky, it’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“Then why are you still awake?” Bucky responded. You heard him sigh a little outside the door. “Come out here and tell me you’re okay.”

“Really Bucky?”

“Unless you want me to come in there, but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me breaking your door.”

You took a small breath and walked over to the door, opening it. You crossed your arms and met Bucky’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, taking in your appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, your hair was messy - you were definitely crying. He hated when you wouldn’t admit that you weren’t ok. “You know you don’t have to be, right?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep fresh tears from clouding your vision. “What?”

“You say you’re fine, you always say that you’re fine until you break. I heard you crying, I can see that you’re not feeling okay yet still you try to keep a brave face. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to always be okay.”

You let out a breath. “I - i…” you looked down and shook your head, lost for words.

“Y/n, I’m not here to judge you. Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you said looking up at him “It’s literally so stupid, Bucky.”

“Y/n, nothing you say right now is going to sound stupid.

You shrugged your shoulders, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just get so worked up sometimes, but it’s stupid. I tell myself I’m not going to be bothered and then I freak out again. The smallest things bother me and I get stressed out and then I cry like some stupid weak bitch. People have it worse than me, God, you have it worse than me. Everyone here has some sort of traumatic awful thing happen to them and then there’s me and I get sad because I see other people sad,” you were crying again and you wiped at your face, covering your eyes. “God Im so fucking stupid I -”

Bucky pulled you into his chest as you let out a sob. “You’re not stupid, y/n.”

“YES I AM. I get worked up over the smallest shit, I don’t listen when people tell me to take breaks, I take everything too personally and I can’t stop fucking crying when I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong!” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself away, ashamed.

Bucky held you tightly, not letting you go. “That’s not your fault. It’s not up to you how your feelings show up.”

“But I cry at the most stupid shit and I can’t control it.”

“You’re not supposed to know how to control it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Emotions can’t be controlled. They just happen and it’s rarely convenient.”

“Then why do I feel so weak? If this,” you gestured to yourself “is so goddamn normal then why isn’t everyone else breaking down every other day?”

Bucky brushed some hair out of your face. “Your emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response either. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.”

You shook your head. “I just feel so weak all the time.”

“And I’m here to remind you that crying isn’t weak. You are not a weak person, you are not a bad person, you’re not any of those things your mind tells you. You’re a kind and thoughtful person. You put your heart into everything you do. You help everyone you can. Mourning someone else’s loss isn’t weakness. It’s called empathy.”

You took a small breath. “Then why does it hurt so goddamn much?”

“”I don’t know. And I can’t say for certain that you won’t always feel that way. But I know I can tell you that you aren’t weak, and I’ll be here every time you feel that you are.”

You nodded your head slightly. “You don’t think I’m weak?” you asked quietly.

He pulled you back into a hug. “Not in the slightest, y/n.”

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melo-yello · 3 years

Text

💤Can’t Sleep💤 w/ 💥🪨KiriBaku🪨💥 HeadCanons

Pairing(s): KiriBaku X black!reader, Eijirou Kirishima X Katsuki Bakugou X black!reader

A/N: fluff and ANGST. Like lots of ANGST. I had a rough week and honestly not very much sleep. What can I say. Sue me, I wanna hug and somebody to watch a movie with.

💤💥🪨 Lay on your stomach opening and closing your eyes as you try and convince yourself to sleep. Kirishima snores softly with an arm around Bakugou’s waist. He’s been pretty stressed lately so he gets to be middle spoon. Baku in turn has an arm draped over your shoulders.

💤💥🪨 The soft and peaceful looks on the boys’ faces are nothing but safe and warm and reassuring . Yet here you are unavailable to close your eyes long enough to drift off to sleep. Each time you close your eyes your heart attempts to tear a whole through your chest. The dim red light of the clock reads 2:56 as you slip out of Baku’s embrace for a glass of water

💤💥🪨 You settle on Jasmine tea instead. Quietly pulling a the kettle from the cabinet and turning on the tap just before placing it on the stove. You busy yourself in your phone in order to banish any form of thought from your head. Soon just blankly browsing through TikToks as you wait for the water to boil

💤💥🪨 The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention as you hear heavy footsteps and the creaking of the bedroom door. Short angry grumbles are traded with deep groggy grunts as the footsteps close in on your position. You glance up to see the time is now 3:22 and you hear the kettle whistling for the first. Mostly likely what woke your boyfriends to begin with. You scowl at the kettle.

💤💥🪨 “fuck you.” you curse under your breath snatching up the kettle to quiet it’s shouting as the two set of red eyes fix on you in the dim light of kitchen. Kiri’s long red hair pulled back into a messy plat, and Baku’s fluffy ash blonde sticking out in all directions except for the right side flatten to the side of his skull

💤💥🪨 “Oí, Chuchu Soul, do you have any idea what time it is?!!” Baku squints tiredly placing a hand on his hip. “That’s actually a good one.” You giggle surprised by his creativity. “I know right?! And they used to call him uncreative.” Kirishima smirks between a yawn. “ Well?” Bakugou’s features don’t change. More likely mad that he’s awake at this ungodly hour than anything else. “Was it another panic attack, Pebble?” Kiri questions walking to rest his hand on your lower back. You don’t acknowledge his soft gesture and busy yourself with pouring the newly hot water into your large mug with it’s awaiting tea bag.

💤💥🪨 “Run that shit back, Eiji?!? When was this?” Bakugou’s foggy apathetic sleepiness raises to concerned confusion . You curse under your breath for the third time tonight. Kiri racks his tired brain for an explanations as he trades tired glances between the temperamental blonde and the vaguely suspicious one blowing at tea. “Pebble you didn’t tell him about Friday Night?” He frowns looking down at you. “...i forgot...” you whisper sipping the overly hot tea and burning your tongue. Hell you wouldn’t have told him either, but he was right beside you when it happened.

💤💥🪨 That Friday night. You couldn’t speak. You stood in a dark room. Small and cramped. No windows. No doors. Just glowing ink on one wall in barely legiable font. Prove It. As soon as you touched the lettering it went blood red and the water began to pool at your feet. You begin to lose your composure trying to find an exit. In seconds the water is at your waist. Then your neck. Then the ceiling. Like that you’re choking and sputtering trying to find. The walls go translucent. Larger than life figures with unmistakable silhouettes and Pro hero customs hold your box in each hand. You bang tight fists to gain their attention. Your blood mixes with the water and you could barely breath. You thrashed across the sheets desperately trying to snatch yourself from your current nightmare. Suddenly Kiri shaking you awake and he’s coaching you into breathing again.

💤💥🪨 The memory of utter helplessness washes over you all over again. You sigh in frustration as tears pool at the corner of your eyes. “Come here, Pebs.”

💤💥🪨 Without another word, Kiri scoops you up bridal style and takes a seat on the couch placing you in his lap. Baku takes the seat next to him gently taking the hot tea from your trembling hands. You hadn’t even realized they were shaking until you touched his steady ones. “Babes, we hafta talk about this. Including Friday, this makes 3 days of shitty sleep. That’s not good or sustainable, Knucklehead.” Bakugou sighs placing the mug on the coffee table before wiping away a tear rolling down your cheek.

💤💥🪨 “It’s not like I don’t wanna do better, Kats. Eiji. I’m just...” you trail off mid explanation. You clasp fingers over your soft lips. Opening twice to speak, but only croaks come out. You try very hard to find a tangible reason for your reluctance to sleep, but there were none. Kiri squeezes your shoulders reassuringly and plants a gentle kiss on the top of your bonnet.

💤💥🪨 “We know you’re trying, love. It’s ok to be scared sometimes. Even the resident hardass, Katsuki still gets nightmares.” Kiri offers doing his best to let you ride these feelings out while comforting you as well. “Yea.”Baku’s grip tightens at the mention of his own nightmares before leaning his head on your legs

💤💥🪨 “I just can’t trust it ok! It’s scary. I’m panicking in sleep now?!! I’m only getting worse and now I crying about. FUCK! I’m just a scared bitchy crybaby who can’t sleep.” You sigh overwhelmed by all the physical closeness and their consistent and unwavering support. You mentally kick yourself for the not realizing sooner that you trusted them enough to hurt like this in front of them. There’s something that unnerves you about that. Tears streaming at full force at this piont

💤💥🪨Kiri holds you firmly to chest tucking your shaking form under his chin. Baku moves to wrap an embrace overlapping Kiri’s arms. “Just let it all out, Babygirl.” He hums leaning his head on your shoulder. Your chest tightens and your fingers curl into angry fists. Suddenly your frighteningly fierce temper rears it’s ugly head.

💤💥🪨 “No no no NO! Stop It! STOP ACTING SO NICE! STOP ACTING LIKE I DESRVE THIS! BE DISAPPOINTED! BE UPSET!! TELL ME TO TRY HARDER! TELL ME TO TAKE BETTER CARE OF MYSELF! TELL ME IT’S EASY! REALLY EASY! BE ANGRY I’M FUCKING IT ALL UP! BLAME ME! I BLAME ME! I blame me... I blame me for not being...better.” You fume trying to push them away. You do your best to squirm out of their gentle comfort and tender embrace your lovers have you wrapped in. Neither one of your boys moves. “No way, Pebs.” Kirishima says resolutely. “Not a fucking chance, Teddy.” Bakugou nods with the same unchanging confidence. The rage in your chest melts as fat tears and roll down your brown cheeks.

💤💥🪨 A heaving and broken sob racks your entire body as you fall apart in their arms. Anger subsides into terrified uncertainty and overwhelming futility settles in its place. Tears and mucus flood down your face and soak Kiri’s t-shirt. Sniffles from above draws you out of the dark thoughts swarming around you. Surely enough tears drip slowly down Kiri’s cheeks. Instinctively you cup his face with trembling hands. “...Sorry.. I’ll be strong...just gimme a sec” he mutters as his broad shoulders slump and he moves to bat away the falling droplets. Bakugou grabs his hand and kisses it while wiping the red head’s face. “Eijirou, you don’t have to. Not right now” You sputter between choppy breaths.

💤💥🪨 His usually unwavering features muddy with insecurity. A fairly uncommon expression for someone so death defyingly optimistic and confident. “But it’s what I’m good at. If I can’t be strong for the people I love most then what good am I?” He retorts apathetically tightening his grip as the tears still trickle. You slink an arm around his hips, and place your face to his chest. “Bullshit. You’re plenty strong enough for us, Eijirou. Stop being so hard headed!” Bakugou raves putting a hand behind his neck and his forehead against his for emphasis before continuing, “You’re allowed to feel more than one thing. You are complex and unique and fearless and fearful all in one. You’re human, Eiji. It’s ok.”

💤💥🪨 “Katsuki, you’re so compassionate and kind.” You hum softly and absentmindedly almost. You don’t know why this observation came but it just feels right. Eiji smiles leaning in the blonde’s embrace. “Honestly Kats, you love remarkably deep and painfully unselfishly. Thank you.” Kiri hums kissing his cheek and you do the same. Hot little tears rest at the corners of his dark red eyes. Most of the public thinks he’s some kind of angry asshole devoid of any softer emotions. Comments on your relationship often criticized Katsuki for snagging partners ‘much nicer than he deserved’. And just like that you are scooting over to make room for Bakugou in Kiri’s lap.

💤💥🪨 “Such a shitty little week.” Baku sighs with misty eyes. There’s a small comfort in the collective collapse washing over the three of you. All of you holding the hurt from the others in hopes it would just fizzle away like a bad dream. It didn’t. You sob, Kiri sniffles, and Baku lets two hot tear slip from his glassy eyes. None of you break contact with each other. Your fingers linked with Kiri and Baku’s in the opposite hand. A head glued affectionately onto the red head’s broad shoulder. After what seems like a lifetime and you can’t cry anymore and feeling a surprising amount of relief sinks onto you, you clear your throat.

💤💥🪨 “Wanna watch How to Train a Dragon?” You rasp with tired and strained vocal chords. “I’ll get the popcorn.” Kiri sighs kissing each of you on the cheek as he ushers you both out of his lap. He sashays into the kitchen to find a bowl and the popcorn. Baku stands handing you your cool tea as he grabs the remote. Flipping decisively through Amazon Prime, he queues up the movie as he settles onto the far side of the couch to lay out fully. You sip contently tucking your knees to your chest so you can press the soles of your feet into his. “That tickles.” Bakugou deadpans wiggling his own toes. Soft giggles flutter out of your chest.

💤💥🪨 Kiri strolls back in the room with two large bowls of popcorn and a blanket on each arm. He bows presenting them to their proper owners. Movie theater butter for Baku and kettle corn for you two to share. You sit your now empty mug on the coffee table as Kiri retakes his original spot and you settle comfortably into his lap cocooning you both in a cozy weighted blanket. Baku draped in a light throw typically the first to complain about being hot. The DreamWorks title sequence floats across the screen, and wave of peacefulness falls over the tired trio. Less then five minutes in, you and Bakugou snore quietly as Kiri’s heavy eyelids fight to watch the next couple scenes

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