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#also now that i have a tumblr again prepare for me to just not shut up
kteague · 7 days
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No Regrets - part 1
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Pairing: Frankie Morales x Girasol (f!reader) - (Because of You universe)
Word Count: 4.6k
Summary: "She’s asking you if Frankie went too. The question sends your world upside down."
Warnings: angst, talk of past drug use, talk of suicidal thoughts, mention of ptsd, heavy emotions
a/n: this has been posted on ao3 since july 2023 (damn, time flies) so some of you may have already read it over there (and thank you to the sweet angels who have already commented on it over there <3). i had my reasons on waiting to post it here but it's now the only part of this series that isn't posted on tumblr and i think i'm okay to post it here now. Also, part 2 has not been written because what i have planned for it may interrupt some other stories i want to write for these two first.
Because of You - series masterlist
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When you blink your eyes open, the bedroom is still draped in darkness. There’s not even a hint of sunrise as you try to settle your sleep-riddled brain from the abrupt interruption.  The ringing of your cell phone continues as you reach out to grab it, sleep still heavy in your body that you don’t even think to look at who’s calling. 
“Hello?” you whisper, eyes falling shut once again as you wait to find out just how important this call could be.   
It’s Yovanna and she’s crying hysterically.  It’s enough to have your eyes shoot open as you shift to push off your free hand, sitting up more.
“Wait, wait, Yovanna, breathe.  I can’t understand you.  Is everyone okay?” you go to tap Frankie awake but your hand only meets air. Turning your head, you see his side of the bed is empty, the covers pulled up to his pillow.  As you’re trying to make sense of the source of your friend’s panic, your brain is also trying to figure out just where Frankie could be.  A quick glance at the ensuite shows the door open with the light off.
With a quick toss, the covers are moved off of you allowing you to stand up and you still take a peek inside the dark bathroom for your husband.  Yovanna manages to calm herself just enough that you can finally make out what she’s been trying to tell you.  It’s then you find out that Santi was gone when she woke up to use the bathroom.  She found a note that said he was going back to Colombia and he should be back in a couple of weeks.  It’s the last thing you expected her to say, but now, she’s asking you if Frankie went too. 
The question sends your world upside down. 
He wouldn’t.
Not after last time.
You’re quickly grabbing one of Frankie’s t-shirts from the laundry basket and pulling it over your head as fast as you can without moving the phone from your ear for too long.
“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, worry starting to seep into your nerves.  You rush out of the bedroom and quietly check the girls’ room for him.  Then the kitchen.  The basement.  Nothing.  When you look out the front window, you get your answer.
His car is gone.
“Yovanna, I have to call you back.  I promise you, I will.  Let me try to call Frankie because he’s not home, either.  As soon as I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”
As soon as you end her call, you’re dialing Frankie’s number.  It goes straight to voicemail and the air leaves your lungs.
He promised you.
You spend fifteen agonizing minutes calling him as you scour the house for any sign of a note, but every damn call to him goes straight to voicemail.  Quickly, you send him a text asking him to call you as soon as possible – when he doesn’t respond back within minutes, it only fuels the fire of your concern. But you’re also getting frustrated and you can’t help but fling your phone against the couch.  Thoughts race through your mind of the past several days, playing back every memory with him where maybe you missed a small moment that could have prepared you that he was planning on leaving again.  It was only hours ago that he made love to you, the evidence of it still sticky between your legs – was that his fucked up way of telling you goodbye without actually admitting what was going on?
You run a hand roughly through your hair as your eyes catch the bedroom door of the girls.   Not only to you, but how could he do this to those little girls?  Violeta was too young to remember the last time he did this.  But now?  She’ll have questions.  And poor Rosie is too young to make any sense of it – all she’ll know is that Daddy isn’t around anymore. 
It doesn’t take long for your mind to start heading to the worst.  Tears fill your eyes as your hand presses to your mouth muffling your sobs.  What if he dies over there? How could you ever possibly break that news to those two little sweet faces?  And how could you ever possibly live without him?
“Damn it, Frankie!” you curse him under your breath, your tears seemingly endless as you switch between being angry and absolutely heartbroken.  Sitting down on the couch, you begin to take slow, deep breaths to settle yourself.  You had already been where Yovanna was, except your baby was already in the world when Frankie left for Colombia.  The last thing she needs right now is to have you being equally as devastated when you call her back.
But it's harder than you thought.
Every deep breath is followed by a reminder of why you’re so upset in the first place and it brings you right back to the verge of a breakdown. 
How Tom was fucking killed there.  Something none of them ever thought would happen, which means its possible to happen again.
How you barely handled being a new mother when Frankie left the first time, and now you’re on your own with two small kids. 
How you’ve never been able to shake the rooted, resounding fear of not knowing where he is ever since the last trip.
The ache in your chest is too much and you don’t even think of the girls sleeping when you finally let out the anguished cry that’s been crawling up your throat.  The tears stream down your face, hot and angry, as you take one shuddering breath after another.
Suddenly, a flash of headlights sweeps across the wall in front of you.  Eyes wide, you’re up and turning to the window to see Frankie’s truck pulling into the driveway. The sight has you frozen, your mind trying to come back from the definitive thought that he had absolutely left again.
It doesn’t matter though, because even without your clearer thoughts, your body aches for him and it has you rushing to the front door.  Wrenching it open, the porch light illuminates you standing there in the doorway with just his t-shirt hanging on your body.
Frankie’s brows knit together at the sight and he shuts the headlights off.  You don’t even think about your current state of undress as you head towards the driver’s side door.  As you get closer, Frankie spots the watery glimmer to your cheeks and his face transforms to worry when he realizes you’ve been crying.  Did something happen to one of the girls? He’s stepping out of the truck, eyes glued to you, when you’re only a couple feet away.
“I thought you left again!  You weren’t here!” you immediately throw at him as you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but your emotions betray you and a sob comes out. Shuddering gasps separate your words as you inform him, “Yovanna says Santi’s gone and – and I thought you went too when I couldn’t find you.” All your sense is gone that you don’t even give it a second thought how the whole neighborhood is asleep as you loudly confront your husband in the driveway.   
A look of guilty realization falls over his face and he’s shaking his head as he pulls that familiar tan jacket off his broad frame and swings it around behind you to drape over your shoulders and shield your half-nude body from any prying eyes.
“Baby, no.  I promised you I’d never do that again,” his palm cups your cheek as he keeps a steady hold of the jacket on you.  His thumb sweeps across your skin, brushing some tears away. 
Another sob from your lips as more tears fall and you nod, “I know. I’m sorry,” hands coming up to cover your face, your head in a daze of too many battling emotions.
“Hey, no,” and Frankie wraps his arms around you hugging you, “You have nothing to apologize for. Fuck, I’m sorry.  I didn’t think you’d wake up before I got back. Come on, let’s get you inside,” then he’s sweeping you up into his arms.
Once he steps through the opened front door, he gently places your feet to the ground and he’s locking the door behind him. When he turns back around, you cling to him in a desperate hug, sobbing into his shoulder.  Eyes closed in annoyance at himself, he hugs your body to him, petting the back of your head gently as he presses his mouth to your temple. 
“Mi vida, I’m right here,” he soothes. 
“You weren’t answering your phone,” you tell him through watery gasps. 
“Because I’m a fucking idiot.  I didn’t realize how low the battery was before I left.  It’s dead right now.”
All of a sudden, you move out of his grasp and shove his chest which barely moves your rock of a husband and also causes his jacket around your shoulders to slip off, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
“You can’t just do that, Frank! You can’t just disappear like that without leaving any kind of note! You have no fucking idea how scared I was! You have no fucking idea just what I went through with you after the last trip!” you shove him again and walk away from him, further into the living room. 
You wipe at your cheeks as you stand with your back to him, arms wrapped around yourself.  
Frankie stands there stunned.  He knew what he put you through.  Or at least, he thought he knew. He takes gentle steps over to you, afraid to do more wrong.  Hesitantly he reaches out and touches your hip, but as he feared you step away from him.  Turning around, you instruct him to call Yovanna.
“I know you were with him.  She deserves to know what’s going on.  Call her now, Francisco.”  With that, you walk away from him again and walk down the hall to the bedroom.
You can’t stop the tears rolling down your face as you sit on the edge of your bed, face buried in your hands. Frankie’s calming voice floats down the hall from the living room, his entire conversation in Spanish as he explains to Santi’s pregnant girlfriend what the hell the man was thinking.  You though have no clue what’s being said.
He’s on the phone with her for almost half an hour before you hear him put the cordless phone back in its cradle.  From his movements, you figure he’s picking up his jacket and hanging it up.   Then you hear him quietly open the girls’ bedroom, no doubt checking on them, especially after your shouting.
Once he enters the bedroom, his footsteps stop and you safely assume he’s staring at you.  It’s not long before you hear him start rounding the end of the bed towards you.  You lift your head and look away from him as you weakly wipe the tracks of tears from your cheeks. 
Frankie’s never really shied away from making things right with you when you’d argue, especially after everything with the last trip, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when he takes a knee directly in front of you with his hands tentatively laying against the outside of your knees before finally smoothing them forward along your naked thighs when you make no move to push him away.
There’s an extra gentleness to his tone when he asks, “Can we talk?”
“No,” you stubbornly answer him in a watery whisper, looking down at your lap. It only causes him further heartache at the fact you’re still crying and it’s all because of him.
“Okay, baby,” he answers softly with a short nod, glancing at his hand molded to your skin before looking at you again, “Then I’m going to talk.”  When you don’t respond, he knows you’re at least listening. But before he even begins to explain, he leans down and presses a light kiss to each of your knees, nuzzling against them before lifting his head. 
“I drove Pope to the airport.  He’s looking to find that money we left behind the last time.  He’s desperate to give Yovanna and their kid the best life possible and he wants that extra money in their bank account.  I tried to talk him out of it,” he gives a small frustrated shake of his head, “He brought it up to me again a couple weeks ago and I tried to talk him out of it then too.  But you know him, too stubborn for his own good.  Yovanna’s not happy, but you know that already, too. When he got out of the car, he had me promise that you and I would look out for her while he’s gone.  Take care of her.”
The way you won’t even look at him hurts just as much as the fact that he’s hurt you.  He leans forward and dips his head, trying to catch your eye but you close them in heartache when he tries. 
“Girasol, please,” he desperately whispers, only to see more tears slip down from the corners of your closed eyes.
When you feel his lips press to your cheek, you can’t help the tiny whimper you make.  Frankie only continues to try to make things okay, “You’re right, Girasol.  I thought I knew what I put you through after Colombia, but obviously I don’t – not really, at least.  I hope you’ll tell me one day.  Until then, I’m so fucking sorry, baby.  I’m sorry for sneaking out like that.  You’re right about that too, that wasn’t fair of me to do that to you.  I’m sorry for ever making you worry that I left you and the girls.  I promised you after the last time that I would never leave you again and I meant it, honey.”  He gives you a minute to respond with anything, but you don’t.  You don’t say anything and it makes your husband sigh quietly before standing up.  He leans down and kisses your head; a whispered “I love you so much” against your hair.  
Frankie walks back to his side, taking his cap off and tossing it onto the dresser.  Every few seconds, he glances at the sight of you sitting there, the only movement of your hands wiping the tears that still continue to fall.  He unfastens his watch, laying it down on the bedside table and begins to undress. 
When he’s down to his underwear, he settles on the bed, his back against the headboard.  He’s not going to sleep until you do. 
As much as he wants to keep trying to get you to talk, he also knows that you just need a little time to let everything settle in your mind and in your heart before you’ll talk to him. It takes ten minutes of silence between you two for you to finally turn your head towards your shoulder, not to look at him but so that he’d hear you.
“Every second you were out of the house, I never knew if you were coming back,” you softly start and Frankie’s eyes don’t leave you. “I’m not even talking about tonight,” you add and there’s a pit in his stomach when he realizes now that you’re talking about those months he was using. 
“You weren’t sharing anything with me and all I had was searching for information on the goddamn internet.  Everything about PTSD mentioned how suicidal thoughts were so common.  And then the cocaine,” you trail off, taking a minute before continuing, “…I had no idea if that was making the PTSD worse.  I just – I was constantly worried sick about you, Frankie.  And I was terrified that maybe you felt so alone, and so misunderstood that part of you might have thought it would just be best to go off somewhere and – and kill yourself,” when you speak those last two words out loud, they’re wrapped in a heavy sob that shakes your body.
With tears in his eyes, Frankie lunges forward and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap and cradling you, mouth pressing to your temple as he holds you close.  Your hands grip his arms for support and through shuddering sobs, you force yourself to finish, “Even though Yovanna said it was Colombia, when I couldn’t find you anywhere and when I saw your car was gone, that fear just came instantly flooding back. That maybe you were suffering again and not telling me.  And then there also being the chance that you broke your promise and went away again, and –,” a shuddering sigh, “ – I just fucking panicked.”
Frankie’s heart shatters. 
Tears fill his eyes and he brushes his lips across your wet cheek.  When he whispers the question against your skin, you hear the heavy heartache in his voice, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
The question gives you pause as you finally look at him.  At this man you’re so deeply in love with, who has given you so much love and devotion.  This man who is so devastatingly handsome and he doesn’t even realize.  Looking into his eyes, you think of his question and your eyes only well up even more.  With a trembling lip, “Because I didn’t want to give you the idea if you weren’t already thinking it.”
A lump settles in his throat when he looks at you, and the absolute grief written on your face has his own tears finally fall.   
Frankie shakily breathes, “Mi alma,” before he crushes his lips to yours.  Your hands grasp his face as you desperately return the affection. Tears continue to fall from you both and every sweep of your thumbs against his cheeks has you feeling his. You only pull away from his mouth in order to kiss some away. 
His eyes follow you as you move from one cheek to the other, his hand sweetly smoothing over your hair.  You press your forehead to his brow, your tiny shuddering gasps felt against his jaw.  His throat moves with a swallow before his palm gently comes up to your face to keep you still as he guides you back enough for him to see your whole face.
There’s a hesitation from him as his eyes dance between yours.  A caress of his thumb along the wetness below your eye before he shamefully admits, “I had thought about it.  Just once or twice.”
Fresh tears fall as your face crumbles at his secret, “Frankie,” you cry, the worst of your fears being given truth.  Your hands fall from his face to rest on his bare chest.
He has to look away from you, unable to handle seeing the newfound pain in your eyes, but he keeps explaining, “Seeing how bad I was hurting you and knowing that I wasn’t being the husband you deserved or the father that Violeta deserved, it had briefly crossed my mind.  But I didn’t want to be somewhere that you weren’t,” he finally looks to you again, “Selfishly, I’d rather have still been around you, even if it was causing you pain,” a sad shake of his head, “That’s fucked up, isn’t it?”
Instead of saying anything, you press your lips to his in a kiss that hits him so deep, he feels that emotion swell in his chest.  It’s one that reminds him just how much you love him.
You rest your forehead against his, “No, baby, it’s not.  It’s what kept you here with us.  And just so you know, the worst possible pain would have been if you weren’t here at all,” you lift your head to look into his beautiful, brown eyes and cup his cheek. 
Frankie runs his hand over your hair, eyes never leaving yours, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do,” you bring your other hand up to fully frame his face.
“Fuck, baby, I really am sorry for everything.  If I had known any of this, I promise I would have left a note.  I just didn’t want to wake you up so early for nothing.  I would have told you all about it later.”
You give a short nod, “I know. I just – that fear and panic made me overreact. It’s something I have to work on.”
“You had every right.  Don’t be so nice to me when I don’t deserve it.”
“It’s hard not to…you’re really cute,” your lips curving slightly for the first time since he got home. It has him huffing out a small laugh with the unexpected response.
Frankie looks at you so soft, with the most adoring smile, “Girasol, I love you so much,” and then he’s making you squeak out a laugh when he abruptly leans forward with you on his lap, sending you onto your back, laying you out as he hovers over you.  He buries his face against your neck, one arm slipping under your back to hug you as he leans on his forearm.  You hold him tight, petting his soft, curling hair as he leaves light kisses along your neck and to your jaw.
Lifting his head, his lips brush your chin before he’s looking down at you, and with a tenderness that only he has, he uses the back of his finger to wipe away any moisture left on your cheeks from all your tears.
There’s a slight frown on his face, “I absolutely hate making you cry, amor.  Rips me right open.” 
With a hand on the back of his neck, you pull him down for a sweet kiss, “Baby, this was all on me.  You didn’t actually do anything wrong.”
There’s a sadness to his eyes as the width of his palm covers the side of your face, his thumb smoothing along your lower lip, “But the things I’ve done wrong in the past have followed you this whole time.  I’m so fucking sorry.”
It’s enough to undo his work of drying your tears as a few trickles down the sides of your temples at the broken expression on his face, but you give a weak shake of your head, “Who could’ve known? Frankie, as long as you’re okay, I’m okay,” another kiss to his lips, “Are you okay?”
Are you suffering in silence again?
The kiss he gives you is soft, but passionate.  He tries to channel every ounce of love he has for you into this small act of affection that isn’t nearly enough to show you just how much you mean to him.  The rounded edges of your fingernails drag back and forth along the back of his neck as he kisses you nearly breathless. 
When his lips reluctantly leave yours, he keeps his nose nestled to yours.  Each panting breath fans across the other’s mouth, as you continue to caress your fingers through his curls and his hand smooths back and forth along your thigh.
His voice is huskier than before, “I’m okay, Girasol. I promise.  Are we okay?”
You nod sweetly, your other hand gliding down the expanse of his back, “We’re more than.  Thank you, amor, for coming home,” a peck to his lips before a thought hits you and you ask him with some concern, “Does Santi know what he’s doing by himself to get that money?”
Frankie smooths his palm over your hairline to the crown of your head, “He’s not alone.  He’ll be fine.”
“He’s not?  But you guys had gone last time as a cover so no one from Colombia would know what you were really up to. Who does he have now?”
There’s something about the small hesitation from him that makes it click in your head.
With disbelief, you question, “Will and Benny went?”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t go?” you ask despite knowing why.
Frankie shakes his head, “I promised you I wouldn’t.”
“Frank,” you breathe out. 
Not understanding your reaction, he asks, “Are you mad?”
With a soft, but sad smile you shake your head, “No.  I just know how worried you probably are right now since you’re not there.  And I also feel a bit guilty that you feel that way, but the fact that you’re still here – I love you.”
“Do not feel guilty.  Your opinion matters in this and I’m sorry I didn’t take it as seriously last time.”
“You have any way to be in contact with them?”
He shakes his head, “But they’ll be okay.  It’s different this time.  They know exactly where it’s at and there’s no one around to fight in order to get it.”
“You wanted to go,” you state.
He gives a weak sigh at you calling him out, “…Only for our family.  We could use more money.  But you and our girls come first.  This, right here, is where I really want to be.”  
Looking at him, you know he means it.  You know how deeply he loves you and the kids.  You run your fingers through his hair and lean up to press a kiss to his chin. Quietly, you share, “I’m so happy you’re still here,” and he sees in the way you look at him that you mean both alive and right here with you. 
“Me too,” he answers back with a tinge of emotion he’s trying to hide.  He kisses you right after, hand cradling your head.  His tongue gains access past your lips and you’re happy to taste him.
Looking up at him, you pet his scratchy facial hair, “You going to be able to sleep?”
“Doubt it,” he’s honest.  You crane your head back to get a glimpse out of the bedroom window and see the faintest of light.  Looking back to him, “El sol debería empezar a salir pronto.”  (Sun should start coming up soon.)
With a grin, “Vamos, mi Girasol.”  As he pushes off the mattress to get up, you sit up right after him.  Both of you pull on pajama pants and shove your feet into slippers.  Frankie grabs the baby monitor and your hand and together you quietly walk down the hallway.  As you pass through the living room, you let him go to grab the blanket at the end of the couch.  He waits those few seconds for you and slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close enough to kiss your head before continuing out back with you. 
The two of you lay side by side, cuddled close together on the chaise lounge with the blanket thrown over you.  Frankie’s arm is around you, pillowing your head, his hand slipped under your shirt and resting on your stomach. Every brush of his thumb over the dip of your bellybutton sends a shiver through you. 
You rest an arm on his chest, your forearm pressed to his collarbone as your fingertips lazily pet against his patchy haired jaw.    
Frankie turns his head several times to kiss your temple and whisper sweet words of love in between the slow kisses you share.  When the sky slowly grows brighter, turning beautiful colors of orange and pink, the sun gets halfway up when he feels your fingertips slowly come to a rest against his neck.  He looks to you - your cheek resting against his chest and your lips slightly parted with slow, evened breaths, as your closed eyes have you miss the sunrise.  
He presses a gentle kiss to your head and cuddles you even closer.
He can’t help but worry about Pope and the guys, but he also knows how capable they are, with or without him.  And in this moment with you, he knows he has zero regrets with not going.  Here he gets to love and touch the most amazing woman.  In a couple of hours, he gets to hear the giggles of two of the most adorable little girls that he helped make.  Gets to hear them call for him and have them want to be with him. Here, he gets to see your smile and hear your laugh at any moment.
No regrets at all.
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cherubfae · 16 days
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carrying you to bed || hazbin/helluva x reader
With Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Angel Dust, Husk, Loona, & Blitzø
tags: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff
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Alastor
He lets out a deep sigh, staring down at you with slow blinks. "My love, surely that can't be comfortable for you" He has warned you time and time again not to spread yourself too thin with your tasks. Alastor appreciates how much of a good work ethic you have, but what is it worth if you don't have the strength to walk to your room? He picks you up as gently as he can, melding into shadow as he pops into your room. Carefully laying you down, Alastor will cover you up and with a gentle pat on your head before he takes his leave. Perhaps, next time he'll be tempted to rest beside you.
Lucifer
No wonder you hadn't answered him when he called your name. Here you were, fast asleep on his deep red chaise lounge using your folded arms as pillows. Lucifer picks you up bridal-style half-wishing you were awake so that you could see how strong he is! Another time, he thinks. Your rest is much more important than his ego (for now). "Sleep well, honey." He grins, wiggling beneath the sheets like an inch warm, his eyes sparkling with admiration. Placing a kiss to your head, Lucifer is quick to fall asleep.
Charlie
Honestly, she really does try her best not to squeal at the sight of you. You've been working insanely hard for the hotel-- it's no wonder you're so pooped out! She's careful with wiggling one arm beneath your back and hooking the other beneath your knees. She'll carry you to whichever room is closest: yours or hers. Maybe she'll be able to convince you to move into her suite soon. "Oh my gosh, aren't you just the cutest, honey?? I love you so much!"
Angel Dust
"Awww, sweets! Lookit ya! All tuckered out." He cooed in a hushed whisper, lightly booping your nose. His grin widens when it crinkles upwards. His middle set of arms pick you up, preferring to use his gloved ones to stroke back your hair softly. Leaning his cheek against your forehead, Angel carries you off to his room where an excited Fat Nuggets happily circles the bed in preparation for a lovely nap with his two favorite people.
Husk
Putting away the final glass beneath the bar's counter, his yellow eyes drift to your sleeping form at the end of the bar. You'd insisted on waiting for him to finish but all that work promoting the hotel on foot, searching for any sinners ready to be redeemed was a hard task. Husk fought back a smile. "You really do care about this stuff, dont'cha?" He asks despite knowing you won't answer. "Let's get ya to bed." Husk stretches his wings with a sigh before they fall slack. He lifts you into his arms and makes the trek up the stairs.
Blitzø
He'll bitch and groan about it, but he also won't let anyone else touch you when you're sleeping. Blitz will make some claims about how the person trying to touch you probably has cooties or a viral infection or something. Not happening. He's quick to scoop you up into his arms, eyes narrowed slightly, before scampering off to his room with you. "No, you don't get to fuckin' touch them with your gross unwashed hands, Moxxie-- yeah, that's right I saw you! We are living in post-Covid times, mister! Ack, no, leave 'em! I'll carry them just fine thank you!"
Loona
|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||
She smirks when she sees you. You look so sweet and cute, curled up into a ball. But that position can't be good on your spine, nor sleeping on Blitz's sad depression sofa. Loona bends down to lift you into her arms, pushing open her bedroom with her elbow and closing it shut with her foot. A nap with you sounded perfect. "You sure do look cute when you're tired, babe." She nuzzles your cheek with her nose.
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visionofhope04 · 4 months
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Here for the angst of neglected batsis, imagine or hc them of moving out if the house when they are 18 and let's say they meet some spirit and they have their memory wiped and transfer to the marvel universe to restart their life and more happy, then the dc/marvel merge together because of a big threat and batfam sees batsis is heavily pregnant and married to our favorite deadpool charater Colossus?
How would they reached if batsis just can't remember them and keeps on telling them they have the wrong person?
I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK. Guess who's back!! Sorry it took me so long to get this out, I haven't had the motivation to write until recently. Also OOC warning bc I don't really know him well besides the Deadpool movies. I almost freaked out bc I haven't used the tumblr website in so long and it got updated so I thought I lost all my drafts. So glad they're still here, whew. Not beta read so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!
---
It's been a year since moving into your apartment and you couldn't be happier. College was going well and you were taking classes you enjoyed. However, you haven't made any friends yet which led you to spend your free time reading or surfing the web. Jason didn't come by much due to having his own life and vigilante things, which you understood. It didn't mean you couldn't be a little bit sad about it though.
Even though you were enjoying your life, you still felt as if there was something missing. You'd been trying to figure out why you had felt this way but nothing came to mind. Any time you tried to brush off the feeling, it came back stronger. You did your best to ignore it and continue on with life, but it was always there, nagging you.
It had been a long day. College was so stressful. Your professors kept hurling projects at you that had deadlines that were practically impossible to meet. You just wanted it to end already and be on summer break. Then, you’d be able to sleep how long you wanted to without the fear of being late for class or forgetting to complete an assignment.
You sat down at your desk and pulled out your laptop, preparing to continue an essay that was due in three days. Suddenly, you began to feel nauseous. Confused, you attempted to ignore the feeling in favor of completing the essay. A few seconds after trying to focus on your laptop screen, you saw a bright light.
"My child, you will be saved from this life." A strangely comforting voice said.
Then everything faded to black.
---
"Hello?!"
A voice. A voice? But you live alone and no one has the spare key to your apartment. You slowly opened your eyes, groaning and quickly shutting them again once a bright light blinded you.
"Oh you're alive, thank God. Can you speak?" Whoever this was seemed to have been panicking before, slightly less though now that you had indicated you were alive. You groan as you push yourself up off of what seems to be concrete. Concrete? You're definitely not in your apartment. You crack your eyes open again, this time with less difficulty, and come face to face with white lenses of a mask. Blinking again, you register that the lenses are attached to a red material with black lines.
"Ah!"
"AH!" The figure yells and jumps back, startled by your sudden surprise.
"What the hell are you supposed to be?" You asked, tilting your head slightly to the side.
"What do you mean? I'm Spiderman." His voice was a bit high pitched, he sounded like a teen at most.
"Spiderman? You've got to be joking. There is no Spiderman. Go home kid, crime fighting isn't a game." Sure, you may be a hypocrite, seeing as you are an ex-assassin who began learning how to kill at around 5, but at least you had training. What did this Spiderman have? From how startled he was, you assumed he had barely been trained, if at all.
“What? I'm literally Spiderman! I'm Queens' hero!"
"Queens, New York?" You thought you'd still be in New Jersey at least.
"Uh yeah. I don't think there are any other places called Queens that have a Spiderman."
"Again, Spiderman? Seriously? You couldn't think of a better name at least?"
"Hey! There's nothing wrong with Spiderman!"
"Sure kid, keep telling yourself that."
He was about to protest when suddenly, someone else dropped into the alley.
"Hey Spidey, who's this lovely lady?" A person in an all red with black suit with two swords on his back and guns strapped to his waist called out. The person seemed to be a male, around 30 years old.
"This 'lovely lady' is very confused. Who are you?" They keep multiplying, and you'd never seen this person either.
"Did you hit your head or something? You've never heard of or seen Deadpool? The most handsomest, most awesomest, funniest, killer crime fighter?"
"Uh nope. Also, I'm from Jersey, how did I end up here?"
"Good question. What's your name?"
"Oh, it's-" You stopped in confusion. "I actually don't remember. It was just at the tip of my tongue but I don't remember."
"Oh great! Amnesia! Just what we need. I'll let you handle her Spidey and I'll go stop some bad guys, 'kay?"
"What! No, don't leave me here!" Deadpool was already sprinting away.
"Let's get you to the base. Colossus and the others will know what to do."
---
They did not, in fact, know what to do. Colossus sent Negasonic and Yukio to contact Professor X, while Spiderman went to contact Tony Stark (I'm still emotionally scarred from Endgame so no, he won't be dead, this is my fanfic and I can keep him alive if I want to) and Deadpool went back out to patrol. You were left alone with Colossus.
Uncomfortable silence sat between you. Just as you were beginning to get antsy, Colossus broke it first.
"Do you remember anything at all?"
"I'm... a college student. I live alone in an apartment in New Jersey, I think. I used to fight crime until... I don't know, it's fuzzy. I'm an ex-assassin who has been training since I was 5. That's all I remember."
"You can remember that but not your name?"
"Look, I don't know okay? I don't know what's happening or why I can't remember anything else. I want to remember who I am, but I can't. And it's so... so frustrating! Your suspicion is understandable, but it is not helping."
"I apologize. This is a stressful situation for you. I will be more considerate."
"Thank you."
---
They could not figure out what happened to you or why you suddenly appeared in Queens one day. Your memory remained fuzzy, so you were stuck. As time passed, you and Colossus grew closer. You became so close that he told you his real name, you became a couple, and you got married. Seven years passed, you were 25 and you'd been trying for a baby. You both felt the time was right and that you'd be able to handle parenting.
Colossus came home from work one day, spent and tired. There you were, waiting for him at the door as usual.
"Hi my love, long day?" You fiddled with the positive pregnancy test behind your back.
"Yes darling, when is it not?"
"Well, we're going to have to figure something out, because there's no way I'll wake up every night to take care of our baby."
He looked confused, then realization hit. "You're..?" He looked so happy and hopeful, you couldn't contain your happiness. A huge smile lit up your face.
"Yes, we're finally going to be parents!" You pulled out the pregnancy test and held it up to him.
He laughed a joyful laugh, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes as he embraced you. It must've been infectious because you began to tear up too. You remained in each other's embrace for a while, just existing in the moment. Time felt irrelevant as you basked in your shared delight.
---
8 months later, your belly had swollen and grown. Everyone was happy for the both of you. You and Colossus were both eager for your little one to arrive. You'd both decided to wait for birth to find out the gender. It didn't matter to you whether it was a boy or girl, just that they were healthy (gender's a construct anyway). The pregnancy had been going great so far, but this time of easy-going was about to get ruined by your husband's job.
---
Your world had merged with another because of some cosmic threat. Great! Your husband would be preoccupied trying to fix the situation, which meant that you'd be alone. Selfishly, you wished that they could let your husband stay with you so close to your due date, but you knew he had a role to play in saving two worlds.
Seeing your loneliness, Colossus decided to bring you with him to the Avengers' base. He hoped you'd be able to befriend some of the people there. You entered the compound and your eyes were drawn to some men standing beside a set of double doors. They all had suits on, black hair (one guy had two white streaks in his hair) and most had blue eyes, except for one man who had green eyes. He was also noticeably the darkest of the group. They felt familiar to you, especially the man with green eyes. Have you met them before? Who were they?
As your husband was discussing some details about the meeting, you couldn't help but watch the group of men. Not knowing why you thought you knew them annoyed you. As if they could feel your eyes on them (they could), they turned around in sync and locked eyes with you.
Their eyes widened and they all exclaimed your name in various degrees of disbelief. They rushed over to you and your husband protectively stepped in front of you
"How do you know my wife?"
"Wife?!" Some of them shouted. They were beginning to cause a scene.
"You're pregnant." The one with green eyes observed. He seemed to be having some sort of crisis.
All their eyes darted to your belly, making you uncomfortable. You placed your hand over your stomach and attempted to discretely hide behind your husband. This did not go unnoticed by them.
"You don't remember us?" The shortest of them questioned.
"No, I've never met you guys." You were very confused.
The man who appeared to be the oldest said your name. You stared at him as he studied your eyes, presumably to see if you were lying. It made you feel vulnerable and unsettled, couldn't they leave you alone?
"We're your family."
The guy with the white streaks in his hair scoffed. "You didn't treat her like she was family. I was the only one who cared for her when she was younger while you all ignored her and let her suffer. I'm glad she doesn't remember what you all did to her. She's clearly living a much better life without you lot in it."
This was getting more confusing by the second, although you felt there was truth to his words. Did you forget these people? They seemed very convincing if they were lying.
"I'm sorry but I really don't remember you guys. Maybe you have the wrong person?"
"No we don't! You disappeared one day and now that we've finally found you, you're saying you forgot everything!"
"That is enough. Please leave my wife alone, she does not know you, and she does not need the unnecessary stress of trying to remember people she's never met. Do not approach her anymore." Colossus guided you away from the men, who stared longingly at you. The heartbroken expressions they had after your husband's speech would follow you often. Were you sure you'd never met them before?
---
Words: 1,847
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sordidmusings · 5 months
Text
Tender Love and Care - Hair Care (Buggy x amab!Reader
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Art by ijessbest on Twitter (refusing new name still) I believe they also have a tumblr by the same name!
A/N: Sorry I took so long to post this and thank you for your patience! I had thought I put it up earlier but noticed that wasn't true while doing some organizing. The differences are pretty subtle but I hope they are meaningful for your immersion and help you feel seen! If there's something I can do better (I am cis fem so I'm sure there's much my experience has me missing about yours) please let me know! I'd like to help y'all get your escapism too 🤍
From the original a/n - "Ah yes, another 'taking care of Buggy's head' fic to take up space on the internet. Just gotta indulge in giving this man some tlc. Did I write four thousand words of simping for the cringefail pirate clown's hair? Yes. And I'd do it again >:p"
Word Count: ~4k
Warnings: masculine leaning amab!reader (no pronouns or gendered titles), Lots of Feelings, yearning, possibly angst?, probably hurt/comfort?, waxing very poetic, Buggy being a prickly bitch who doesn't know how to receive affection, Buggy also being a delusional bitch who immediately latches on to that affection
afab!Version
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
“Touch the makeup and I’ll bite your fingers off!”
“I’m quaking.”
“...I’ll spit in your face.” His eyes narrowed while you blanched. “I’ve got damn good aim too so you better watch those big ol’ eyes.” Almost a compliment? Progress.
“To save us both from catastrophe, I’ll let you keep your grease-face,” you promised. After a few more seconds of giving you the stink eye (really, you should be taking notes because his form is exemplary), Buggy finally settled back into your hold. His stubble scratched lightly at your palms and you allowed your thumbs a scant few passes from his cheek bones to the back of his jaw. That was easy enough to play off as mindless movements while you examined him for the coming wash. Hopefully.  You were at least putting in the effort to keep the affection in your chest from blooming into a wide smile on your face, lest he begin spitting like a wet cat again.
After placing him down on your clothes chest, you began gathering together the things you’d need to clean him up. You had already prepared a large basin of steaming water before you had grabbed Buggy from Zoro for your night shift with him. If he had truly protested against you then you’d just have extra water to spoil yourself with for your nightly routine. What a loss. While you flitted around grabbing a cup, a pile of towels, and care products, Buggy took to commenting about whatever his eyes fell on around your room. Your half-assed replies did nothing to discourage his gentle roast of your safe space. He only shut up when you picked him back up and brought him over to the basin.
You were taken by surprise when you took off his bandana.  You had guessed that his hair was thick from the pieces that framed his face, but you hadn’t expected long locks to be wrapped up in there. They slipped and fell down like silk despite being in clear need of a wash, and you started to become a bit excited to see how they would come to shine under your care.
“What’s wrong with you? Never seen hair before?” There was a bit more bite to him all of a sudden and it hit you that he may be self-conscious from your staring.
“Never seen yours before, duh,” you teased. “You should wear your hair out as a power move against all the scrangly ass men in these waters.”
Buggy took a blank-faced moment to process your words. Probably weighing your sincerity against the backlog of insults he’s heard in his life. Unfortunately, one joking compliment never stood a chance.
“Whatever, just do your job.” His bitter tone made you keep your mouth shut and drop the topic. For now.
Seeing how he had a lot more hair than anticipated, you got up again to grab yet another towel so that you could use it as a cushion. Finally settled, you grabbed Buggy in one hand, the cup in the other, and got to work. You had laid a small board across the basin so you could rest Buggy on it instead of having to hold him up the whole time. You may have gotten strong in this life, but you were not masochistic enough to try holding him up throughout this process. You made sure to be extra gentle when you put him to rest on the back of his head, mindful that the hard plank wasn’t the most comfortable.
Wetting his hairline was taking longer than you thought. The soft noises from the pouring water hitting his scalp and trickling through his hair into the basin below felt loud in the stillness of the room. Everything had a languid air like you could breathe freely without thought or time to measure the passing of each exhale. Wanting to check in, you looked down from your task and into Buggy’s face. Despite all his past showboating, Buggy was having difficulty keeping his gaze anywhere near your face.  You decided to take pity on him in his discomfort but not too much. “So how’d you get your damn good aim?”
Silence.
You’re beginning to think that him looking at you like you’re stupid is his comfort zone.
“You know, that ‘damn good aim’ that makes my ‘big ol’ eyes’ easy targets?” you supplied.  At first, you thought he would roll his eyes and make more digs at you, but he finally caught you off guard.
“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a growing smile and a glint in his eyes. His face grew even more pleased when you smiled mischievously back at him.
“Clown trade?”
He hummed out an affirmative. You saturated the last of his hair at the front and sides and now needed to dunk the rest in the basin. The sheer amount of long blue locks that this pretty, pretty man had may cause it to overflow, but you supposed that’s just a workplace hazard when becoming a glamor clown’s hairdresser. You paused in lowering him to look around quite dramatically (squinty eyes, pursed lips, and all) before leaning slightly closer to stage whisper, “You can tell me; I ain’t no snitch.”
You barely caught the laugh that he choked short in order to keep up his serious facade. He let his eyes wander the room to double check your surveying and pretended to be in thought. He let out a heaving sigh and said, “Okay, okay, but you have to lean in close. Can’t have this getting out.”
Ever obliging, you turned your head and leaned until you felt his warm breath on your skin and the roundness of his nose tickling to top of your ear. You were thankful he couldn’t see the little shiver down your spine or the goosebumps spreading down your neck. He was thankful you couldn’t see him close his eyes to savor the scent of your aftershave. All was still for a few breaths too long.
“The secret?” you prompted, thinking he was waiting for your urging or that he was just trying to make you squirm. You didn’t see his eyes flutter open while he forced thoughts other than your closeness back into that head of his. Okay, he really needed to do something to reel himself back in and get some control of the situation.  Easier said than done when he’s only a head.
You felt as much as you heard him take a deliberate inhale… only for a loud raspberry to be blown right next to your ear.
Nearly dropping him in shock, you quickly pulled your head back and held him at arm’s length like a misbehaved puppy. Through his canting cackles, Buggy met your wide eyes with a proud grin. It didn’t even need the help of his makeup to split his face. Damn, you could stare at that forever. He had just the prettiest eyes you think you’d ever seen. The way they shifted color under the low lights and sparkled with his smile had you feeling entranced. It had the same commanding presence and addicting warmth as flames with their own swirling colors and sparking embers. You thought your poetic idioms for him would always center around the sea, especially for his blue-green eyes, but here we are.
The corner of his smile started to twitch downward under your stare until wild and cheerful laughter burst from your lips. They were the kind to shake your shoulders and scrunch your cheeks up into your eyes and he’s now certain that he has fucked right up. Buggy felt alarms blaring in his mind as he took in your joy and was certain he would make an absolute fool of himself in any and all ways possible to keep getting hits of it. Between your settling chuckles, you managed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring that wisdom with me to my grave.”
Readjusting your grip, you moved forward and dunked the back of Buggy’s head fully into the water. He sighed out at the sensation, but he fully melted when one of your hands went to support the back of his skull and the other flowed through his tresses to make sure all of them were wet. You let yourself take your time, both to make sure you were thorough and to indulge yourself in the comfort of the moment. A tenderness spread through you when you saw that this was also indulging Buggy. His breath was slow and steady, and his eyes were resting closed to better focus on the sensations coming to him. You truly were a people pleaser at heart and seeing someone so bedraggled and affection-starved accept your care made your heart and head feel fuzzy.
You slowly leaned him more upright and used your other hand to wipe out some of the excess water. Buggy felt you shuffling around, and his eyes opened to see what you were up to. After you moved him to rest on the flat bottom of his neck on top of the softest towel that he’s felt in ages, he realized that you went through the trouble to try to make even that wooden board comfortable for his sake. He was starting to feel even more uncertain and out of his element.
Careful fingers carded through and spread out his hair behind him while an equally careful gaze watched over their work. After lathering your hands with a shampoo bar scented by vanilla and spices, you set to work giving him the scalp massage of a lifetime.
While focusing on doing the best job possible and maybe also the beautiful color of his hair was keeping you from thinking about anything else, Buggy had no such luxury. He had nothing to direct his nervous energy at - didn’t even have fingers to fidget with! - so he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face neutral. Everyone enjoys a good scalp massage or at least some kind of pampering so it wouldn’t have been weird for him to visibly enjoy it, but something watery and vulnerable was pressing at his throat under your tender care. His mind and body (well… head) were at odds. While his train of thought spun every which way only to be tethered back to the word ‘why’, his muscles melted until they were soft and pleasantly limp. Has his brow ever been so smooth? His jaw so loose? His lips so softly set? Oh God, you must have noticed the stubborn stiffness in his neck because your fingers abandoned his hair to firmly rub from the base of his skull to where he met the towel and that was truly his undoing.
With a rumbly hum, Buggy finally gave in to temptation and tied his mind to your movements. He let himself imagine affection there - imagine that this was special and just for him. You’ve never tended to anyone else like this. You offered because you simply had to know what his hair felt like. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted it much more than you ever wanted to touch anyone else. If he opened his eyes and looked up at yours, he would see them pouring with love, just like your hands were, and you would look sweetly down at him with your gorgeous eyes and handsome smile and say lovely things and you’d love him-
You’d love him.
Fuck.
You noticed Buggy suddenly flinch under your hands and you tensed up.
“Are you okay? Did I snag your hair?” You hadn’t felt anything tug but you supposed you could’ve missed it.
Buggy cleared his throat before stiffly responding, “No. Keep going.”
Something thick in his tone caught your attention and you looked to see his expression was tense instead of the blissed out one you had admired not too long ago. That won’t do. You went back to the tried and true pressure points on the scalp that you knew from experience eased anyone up. Checking his face again, you noticed it was more relaxed but still too guarded for your tastes. Deciding he must be getting antsy, you switched to working the shampoo down his hair after getting a touch more product on your hands. The time it took to get it properly sudsed and rinsed was calm, despite the fact that there was some undercurrent to the air that felt charged. Maybe it was just from seeing the talkative and bratty clown be so subdued. As you began spreading conditioner through his hair, you decided that it was time to engage him again.
“This bar is my favorite; nothing makes my hair softer,” you said. Already, his hair was relaxing to glide even more smoothly between your fingers. You weren’t ready to give the feeling up, so you spent the entire time that the conditioner was setting to run your fingers through his hair.
Buggy couldn’t do anything at the moment to judge your claim, but the smell alone made him understand why it was your favorite. It matched that of the shampoo bar, but the richer ingredients in the conditioner highlighted the comforting tones of the vanilla and the sensuality of warm spices and wood. He relished in it on every inhale, hoping to unravel and memorize its every undertone. Was that a touch of amber in there? A little pink peppercorn? Maybe some incense and oud at the base? Buggy suddenly felt ridiculous. He was never one to give much thought to fancy perfumes, yet here he was trying to dissect your scent like a sommelier tasting a new wine. 
You made quick work of rinsing his hair this final time and gently pushing and squeezing any excess water out. You set Buggy back on a towel, this time one that was spread on the floor. It was the one that you had just been sitting on. Buggy was embarrassed that he noticed and enjoyed the fact that he could still feel your body heat on it.
“How many of those things do you have?” Buggy scoffed as you pulled yet another towel over to dry his hair. You flicked his forehead in warning against further sass.
“You can never have too many. It’s something that you use daily and they come in handy during emergencies,” you explained.
“Oh yeah like what?”
“Well, I was thinking of situations like having to soak up a spill or blood, but the state of your hair definitely qualifies.”
The outburst was immediate.
“I KNEW YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU DAMN LIAR! HOW DA-”
Good thing you were prepared for this and stuffed some of yet another towel into his screaming mouth. He bit down on it harshly and glared at you with all his might. Snarls and grumbles still made their way through the cloth, letting you know just how displeased he was. You were a little shocked to find that despite being gagged and despite just being a head that his glare still actually intimidated you. The time spent with the crew treating him like a harmless little pest had helped you forget that, when push came to shove, he could back up his talk with violence.
The brief glimpse of fear in your eyes gave him a twinge of satisfaction but mostly felt a lot more hollow than he’d expected. Wasn’t this what he wanted? 
When you reached back out to continue drying his hair, you were more tentative than he had ever seen you and his mood dropped even further. Even with your caution, the way that you moved the towel over his hair and gently squeezed more water out of it was filled with care. The whole thing felt very foreign to him. Buggy usually rubbed his towel through his hair chaotically like the more forceful he was the sooner he could get done with the bothersome task. You were working over him like any undue force would be an insult. Like he was something precious. That watery feeling started pressing on him again.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you started quietly. “I just meant to poke fun, not make you actually feel insulted.” After a few more soft pats with the towel, you slowly removed his makeshift gag. He took a moment to wiggle around his jaw and get the dry feeling out of his mouth.
“Yeah, well good job, dumbass,” he bit. You winced at the hurt in his tone. “Just finish up.”
You took a moment to recenter yourself while you grabbed your comb and brush. This was not how you wanted this to go. One wrong comment had sent this whole interaction spiraling and it made you sad. Sensitivity like that was usually built up from years of feeling the same hurts over and over again, and you didn’t ever want to be someone to aggravate an already festering wound, especially not on someone who you genuinely enjoyed. Not on someone who you were increasingly craving affection from. This needed to be fixed. Steeling yourself for the resistance you were about to meet, you began combing the ends of his hair and spoke, “The blue color is pretty.”
He ignored you. As expected.
“It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He still wouldn’t even glance up at you. “Also how it brings out the color of your eyes.”
He snorted dismissively in a way that very clearly told you he wasn’t believing a word you said. Also expected. You’re just going to have to soldier on until this eventually worked… maybe worked… hopefully worked?
Just as in the rest of the process, you were slow and thorough when combing his hair. You murmured compliments to him about how soft it is; how thick and how beautiful. By the time that you had switched to using your brush, he was showing signs of being worn down by your flattery. His face was more relaxed and he let himself look around instead of trying to burn a hole through the floor. All you could focus on, though, was how downcast and tired his eyes looked.
“Alright, I’m all finished up,” you told him. “I’m going to put you in the hammock for a minute while I get ready for bed.”
After placing him in the middle of your bedding, you disappeared behind a dressing screen. The routine of bathing  yourself with a washcloth and bowl of soapy water eased you. Since you had taken so much time tending to Buggy, the last bowl of fresh water had become lukewarm. Despite this, the final wipe down had you feeling refreshed and ready to jump into bed. It was no soak in the tub, but still left you feeling much better after a long day of helping work around the ship.
You had set about your routine briskly so that you didn’t leave Buggy waiting too long. Little did you know, he didn’t mind the time of having nothing to do besides enjoy the soft blankets you curled up in every night. He was trying to soak it in before you inevitably put him back down on the floor. If the night had taught him anything, you’d at least put him on one of those fluffy towels instead of throwing him back in the bag like the others did.
You came over to him on the hammock and he admired how you looked, now clean and fresh. His eyes poured over your shirtless chest and the thin sleep pants moving around the shape of your legs. When you picked him back up, your face and body language were as placid as he had ever seen them and he was surprised at how content that made him feel. He readied himself to be moved away, left cold and forgotten, but he was astonished when you plopped yourself in your bedding instead with him still in your hands. The shock must have shown on his face because you chuckled at him and gave him a bright smile. Even with the bumpy road that the night had been, your smile made him soft and content. He was realizing with more and more resignation that your smile and laugh would let you get away with anything when it came to him.
“So no floor? Trying to bribe me with favors?” His voice was mostly back to that sarcastic lilt you’ve come to adore.
Content that he was feeling better, you answered, “Nah, just using you so I can have a teddy bear. Haven’t had a good one in ages.”
Making good on that promise, you made sure that he was securely nestled into your neck and shoulder. You used both of your arms to cradle him there and both hands to continue your worship of his hair. It was just barely damp and the coolness felt nice on your hands, especially in contrast to the cozy heat emanating from his head. His long eyelashes tickled at your neck every time he blinked, just like the light scruff on his jaw teased at the skin on your chest. His big nose felt cozy rested on your clavicle, and you had to resist the urge to reach down and trail your fingers on it. A giddy and victorious feeling flushed through you when you felt him close his eyes a final time and sink into your embrace.
Buggy should have known that he was doomed from the start. He was having a hell of a time trying not to moan at your fingers scratching and massaging his scalp, both during the hair care and now, when he was held in your arms. The feeling of being rested on your bare chest sent his heart racing. He couldn’t stop his little movements to nestle into you and get just that much more of your warmth and touch. If he thought that he loved the smell of you before, he was absolutely intoxicated now that he knew what it was like when it floated over the two of you while wrapped in body-warmed sheets.
He wanted to ask you why you were doing all of this, but he didn’t want to know the answer. Not right now. Right now he was going to let himself go back into that place in his head where you lo- cared about him. A place where each night he would crawl into bed with you and, no matter how the day went, you would be there to empty his mind of anything but the two of you. You’d greet him with a kiss or a laugh or an embrace and you would shine with so much joy because he’s next to you again. He’d know what your love felt like, how it felt to be under your hands, how your skin felt under his lips. All these daydreams swirling in his head started to make him sick with want, and he needed to know at least one of them. He couldn’t handle all of them staying forever in his mind.
The tiniest increase of pressure from his lips brought your attention to where they rested below your collarbone. The almost kiss was so heartbreakingly shaky and hesitant that you felt your eyes burn with the threat of tears. To reassure him, you dragged your cheek across his temple before turning to leave a deliberate kiss there. Buggy relished the contact, the satisfied sigh you let out afterward, and the gentle weight of your cheek as you snuggled back into him. Your reward came in the form of a grinning cheek pushing into you.
All his humor and posturing certainly caught your attention in the best way and even his explosive temper was something you couldn’t say turned you away. This gentleness, though, this uncertain and wounded place, had you bursting with affection and you were hoping to keep experiencing it. You’d meet it each time with steady affection until it turned into something he embodied with the same surety that he had in his beloved spotlight.
Both of you slipped more sweetly into dreams, curled up together as you were, and with more peace and ease than the years before had allowed. Neither of you would let the years to come be absent of this sweet treasure, either.
159 notes · View notes
luvrrszn · 6 months
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and they were roommates *
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COLLEGE ROOMATE!MIGUEL O'HARA x FEM READER (18+)
summary miguel o'hara is your roommate, and then he's more than that
warnings [all sexual themes are at the bottom end of the post] explicit/18+ (smut), unprotected sex, dom!miguel, not proofread
a/n (gif posted originally by @/cantstoptheimagines, can't figure out tumblr's gif shit so i'm doing this instead, hope that's okay :)) guys i'm so bad at writing smut please go easy on me also if u have requests PLEASEEE send them in i'm so bored
masterlist
"oi! you left your panties on the countertop again, you goblin! take it back!" miguel yells at you from your shared bathroom.
"my bad." you mumble, a piece of toast in your mouth as you shuffle into the bathroom, in a hurry to grab your underwear off the marble countertop.
miguel watches, amused, as you scramble to get your things together before your 8am class. it's 7:48am, and it takes you at least 15 minutes to drive to campus, and that's if you make every green light on your way there.
you're lacing up your sneakers by the door as miguel pours himself a cup of coffee. he walks over to shut the door behind you after you leave. as you run down the hallway to the elevator, he calls out after you, "buy some juice on the way back, we're out of that."
you give him a thumbs-up before disappearing around the corner.
you're cooking your favourite homemade meal—pesto pasta. turning off the stove, you turn around to grab a bowl from the shelves. when you turn back around, you see miguel hunched over your pan of pasta, mouth stuffed with food. YOUR food.
you slap him away from the pan, as he feigns hurt, "ow, ow, that hurts. now you gotta give me pasta to make up for it."
"you ate two bowls of instant noodles already, how are you still hungry? get away, boy." you swat his fork away.
"c'mon, please?"
you roll your eyes and give in.
you were never truly going to say no to miguel o'hara. you had cooked enough for two because you knew this was going to happen, and you knew you weren't going to say no to miguel.
"miguel! stop using my shampoo! and my lotion! you know they're super expensive, get your own!" you yell at him from the bathroom, inspecting the fullness—or now, emptiness of your body care products.
"hey, mami, what can i say? those are the real deal." he replies, barely looking away from his laptop.
"yeah, and they cost a shit ton. stop using my stuff and go back to your nasty 30-in-1 soap or whatever." you huff, glaring at miguel angrily.
saturday evenings are spent at the dining table going over the grocery list, preparing for your weekly sunday grocery runs.
saturday nights are spent on the sofa in the living room, watching a movie.
sunday mornings are spent at the grocery store, wandering down the aisles even though you've been there every sunday for the past year and a half, ever since you moved in with miguel after a mutual friend introduced the two of you upon finding out you were both looking for a roommate.
sunday noons are spent unpacking the bags of groceries, which more often that not contain bags of junk food that miguel somehow managed to sneak into the cart.
sunday afternoons are spent doing laundry. miguel loads the washing machine while you handwash the delicate pieces that require extra care. afterwards, you toss what can be put into the dryer into the dryer while miguel hangs up the rest of the clothes to dry. then, the two of you settle into a comfortable routine of folding laundry.
that's just how it was. every week, without fail.
the moment you fell for miguel was when you caught a horrible cold and he took care of you.
despite you trying to shoo him away multiple times, he never gave up.
"come on, princesa. you're sick, let me help you."
"i look like a hot mess right now, miguel. just leave me alone, i'll be okay." barely finishing your sentence, you broke out in a fit of coughs and wheezes.
"no can do. you're sick, so get your ass back into bed. i'll bring you some chicken soup, so for now, just rest." miguel replied, placing a bottle of water and some cold medicine on your bedside table.
when he returned, he found you curled up in your bed, duvet tucked under your chin. he placed the bowl of soup on your bedside table, before placing the back of his hand on your forehead, only to realise that you were burning up.
"take your meds, princesa. you're running a fever."
with his help, you washed your fever medicine down with a gulp of water. then, you snuggled back under the duvet. when miguel turned to leave, your hand shot out from under the duvet, grabbing his wrist. you croaked out a "stay".
without a word, miguel got into bed next to you, slipping his arm under your head. you curled into his chest, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart beating.
the moment miguel fell for you was when you left to visit family during summer break and he opened the refrigerator to find each shelf lined with containers of food.
you had left that morning, hand gripping your suitcase handle as you said to miguel, "try not to die, finding a new roommate with such short notice would be hard."
miguel grinned and flipped you the bird as you turned around and disappeared down the hallway to the elevator. closing the door behind him, miguel beelined for the refrigerator. maybe there was some yogurt he could have for a quick breakfast.
upon opening the refrigerator, he found that each shelf was packed containers of home-cooked meals, all prepared by you. well, that answered the question of why the apartment smelled so good when he got home last night.
there were containers of pasta, rice, chicken, salad, whatever you could think of, it was there. turning around, miguel spotted the sticky note you had left on the kitchen island. he picked up the light pink sticky note and read your note.
"seriously though, miggy. try not to die. i'd be a little sad if you did."
he couldn't help but let out a little chuckle.
you are the one who first confesses your feelings. on saturday night, after movie night, you gather all your courage and say, "miguel, look, i-i have to tell you something. and when i do, or even after i do, i need you to promise you won't hate me."
miguel's heart is racing. worries fill his head and his heart, and he can't help but wonder if you are going to tell him that you want to move out. he takes a deep breath, and replies steadily, "i could never hate you. go ahead, princesa."
you turn to look at miguel, and you say, "you're my best friend, and there's nothing i wouldn't do for you. you know that, right?" he nods.
taking in a shaky breath, you continue, "i like you. and it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i can't remember a time where i didn't know you, and i'm not sure i want to either. so if you don't feel the same way, can we at least still stay—"
"shut up," miguel cuts you off.
you're taken aback, stammering, "w-what?"
"just shut up," miguel repeats as he moves towards you, encasing your lips with his. you let out a slight gasp, and miguel takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
the kiss is everything you've imagined and more. it's hungry and passionate, but also gentle and reassuring. words were no longer needed; words weren't enough for miguel to express how much he liked you back.
you let miguel take control. you surrender, savouring every moment of the kiss.
and it leaves you breathless.
from that night on, nothing much changes. but at the same time, everything changes.
your weekend routines remain the same, but throughout the week, there's sex. so. much. sex.
miguel's sex drive is crazy, and you can barely keep up. not that you're complaining.
"miguel," you let out a breathy moan. your left hand is tangled in his hair, your right hand littering his back with scratches. miguel fucks you relentlessly, pulling his hips back and slamming into you in one fluid motion.
his hands slide downwards towards your nipple, and he toys with them, tugging gently and rubbing them between the pad of his thumb and his index finger. one of his hands slides even further downwards, and traps your clit. he rubs slow circles on it, drawing a moan past your lips.
his coordination is crazy, and you're stimulated in all the right places.
miguel senses that you're near your climax, and he speeds up, slamming into you with such tenacity that you almost believe he's in such a rush because the world might be ending in two seconds.
miguel goes faster, rougher, deeper, helping you chase your finish. the knot in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens—then it snaps. you scream miguel's name as you cum all over his cock and go limp, seeing stars from what you think might have been the best orgasm of your life.
still deep in you, miguel feels every contraction of your pussy around his cock. you tighten around him, and after two more strokes of his hips, you're milking his cock for every drop of his cum.
out of breath, you lay there on the bed while miguel cleans up the mess on the bedsheets.
that afternoon, as you take out the trash, you bump into your next door neighbour, mrs palma. she looks and you and chuckles, "glad the two of you finally got together, but keep it down, wouldya, sweetheart?"
you turn as red as a tomato.
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ghostbeam · 2 months
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all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter | dabi/touya todoroki
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You go to the store for the ingredients you need to cook for him tonight. You pick up the small cake you ordered from the bakery down the street. You wrap the vintage leather jacket you found for him at a thrift store despite his insistence upon no gifts. Everything is going according to plan, for the most part.
That is until you hear his name from the mouth of the news anchor on your television as she describes the events of a villain attack somewhere in the city. From where you stand at the stove, you freeze, listening to the report. You’re too afraid to turn and look at the screen, knowing that if you see him, you’ll break.
notes: hiiiiii so this is a repost from last year because I unfortunately did not have time to finish dabi’s birthday fic and then I remembered I deleted this one from tumblr bc I suddenly hated it ajshsjhdjd but anyways I edited it a bit but it’s also on ao3 (unedited but I’ll do that later) soooo yeah happy birthday to my greatest love or whatever (gross)
warnings: minors dni, no smut but implied sex, f!reader, blood and injury, angst, hurt/comfort, dabi picks reader up
words: 2.7k
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Dabi returns home to you on a Thursday afternoon. He carries a beat-up overnight bag not filled with much since most of his wardrobe now lives in your closet, his toothbrush sits next to your sink, and his stash of fancy chocolates lies inside one of the drawers in your kitchen.
He drops the bag at his feet as he steps through the door, the key you made for him hanging around his pointer finger as he slams it shut with one foot, opening his arms for you to greet him with a hug.
His arms wrap around you tightly, walking you backward as he buries his face in your neck. He’s been gone for a little longer than a week, off on a mission for the league in a few cities over, a mission that you are completely unaware of. As far as you know, Dabi was visiting his family.
“Missed you.” You murmur against his neck. Dabi lets out a deep breath, preparing to pull away to look at your face. He cups your cheeks in his hands and grins.
“Really?” He questions. You reach your hands up to rest over his wrists.
“Mhm,” you nod, “did you miss me?”
“What do you think?” He rolls his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. When he pulls away, he drops one hand to your waist and pinches your cheek with the other. You swat his hand away, glaring at him, but it only makes him smile.
“I think maybe you did.” You shrug in his arms, “You know, judging from all of the random pictures of cats you saw on the street, and the constant messages asking what I was doing, and all the times you asked for pictures—”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He shushes you again with another kiss to your lips, deeper and hungrier than before. You’re breathless when he pulls away.
“You totally missed me.” You tease, pulling away from him and walking past him to the door. He sends a slap to your ass that makes you jump as you walk by, shoving him away so that you can pick up the bag he abandoned when he arrived.
“Doesn’t look like there’s much in here.” You comment, judging by the weight.
Dabi hadn’t packed much for the mission, just enough to get by in the shitty hideout that Shigaraki had set up for him. But you aren’t meant to know about that, so Dabi lies.
“I dropped some stuff at my place.” He shrugs as you look inside. You pull out a cheap box of black hair dye, looking up at him.
“Your roots are showing?” You question, and he nods.
“You cover them up the best.”
“Oh, yeah? How can you know that? Are there other people dying your roots for you?” You cross your arms over your chest. Dabi wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in.
“Maybe.” He smirks. You let your jaw fall open, pushing on his chest. But Dabi keeps a tight grip on you.
“Then they can dye it!” You resist, but Dabi pushes your arms down at your sides, trapping you there. He shakes his head, placing kisses across your face as you try to stifle the giggles that threaten to bubble from your throat.
“C’mon,” He rasps, resting his forehead against yours, “you know there’s only you. I don’t think I could find anyone else to put up with me.”
“I’m not putting up with anything.” You say, softly. Dabi pulls away to look at you. “‘Course, I’ll help you with your roots.”
The process is easy enough, one you’ve gone through many many times with him, something Dabi considers important to him. It’s that mix of being taken care of and trusting someone enough to allow it. Dabi couldn’t remember what that felt like—until you.
In the beginning, Dabi resisted you. He hated that wanting feeling and tried to ignore the burning in his chest when he looked at you. You came along and threw his priorities all out of whack, and Dabi was furious with himself for even considering you.
But at some point, the want became need, and there was no longer any doubt about keeping you in his life. Even if it meant hiding things from you. He never planned on not telling you about his villainous activities. He thought about getting it out of the way for a long time. He would tell you and maybe you would scream or cry or call the heroes. Or you’d tell him you hated him, and that had always seemed much worse than being locked up. So want was need, and Dabi was not Dabi he was just yours, and you were something he couldn’t stand to lose.
“Are you sure you’re not secretly way older than you look?” You question him, washing his hair over your tub after letting the dye sit in his white roots. Black swirls around your drain as he chuckles.
“I’m pretty sure.” He says, before pausing to look up at you “Unless…do you maybe have a thing for older guys?”
“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, shoving his head back under the running water.
“I mean, I am getting up there. I’ll be twenty-five soon. Does that turn you on?” He teases.
“You are the worst. Wash your own hair.” You groan. You watch him run his fingers through his hair to get the rest of the dye out, thinking about his words again. “How soon?”
“Huh?” He asks, turning off the water and taking the towel that hung over the tub. You watch him scrub his hair with his brows furrowed.
“How soon will you be twenty-five?” A smile stretches across his face, and he wraps the damp towel around his neck to free his hands. He reaches for you, pulling you towards his chest.
“God, you totally can’t wait ‘till I'm old and gray, can you?” You roll your eyes at him, pushing at him lightly.
“I’m asking about your birthday.” You stare at him. Dabi looks away from you for a moment, letting out a sigh.
“Yeah, cause you’re counting the days.” He smirks. You hook your hands around the towel around his neck and pull him down to your level.
“Dabi.” You warn, touching your forehead to his.
“You know, you really can’t get this close to me and expect me not to kiss you.” He speaks, bumping his nose against yours. Your eyes flicker to his lips, and you slowly begin to lean in. Dabi leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, but you don’t let him linger for long. He follows after you, eyes still closed, satisfied with moving to your jaw once you’ve pulled away.
“When is your birthday?” You ask him, a little breathless. He places a soft bite at the side of your neck that makes you shudder before speaking.
“It’s Wednesday.” He speaks against your neck. You freeze, moving your hands up to his head to pull him from your neck.
“This Wednesday? As in a few days from now?” You ask, your hands still in his wet hair.
“I don’t want to make a big deal of it.” He tells you. Dabi doesn’t remember the last time he celebrated a birthday. He most likely would have missed it if you hadn’t brought it up.
For Dabi, birthdays are a reminder of time working against him, of the clock ticking on all of his plans, everything he’s working towards. He’s also reminded of how those plans seem so small now, compared to waking up with you in his arms every morning.
“We don’t have to make a big deal of it.” You tell him. You move your hands from his head down to rest on his chest. “Can I just…make you dinner or something? Or I can order from that one place you like?”
“Just dinner?” He questions.
“Well…” You trail off. Dabi squeezes your hips, making you yelp and you jolt in his arms. He smiles at the reaction, “Dinner and one gift?”
“No gifts.” He shakes his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head. You look up at him.
“What if it’s the greatest gift ever?” You ask. He smiles softly and shakes his head, leaning down to kiss you.
You let him deepen the kiss, though you know it’s a way to distract you, pressing you into the bathroom counter as he traces your lips with his tongue. Your hands tangle in his newly dyed hair, arching into him as he moves his lips against yours. He lifts you onto the counter, pulling away from your lips to place kisses against your neck.
“C’mon,” You try, your breath catching in your throat, “just one.”
He bites down on your shoulder hard, earning a soft moan from your throat. He kisses over the mark, leaving more kisses down your chest, “No gifts.”
He runs his hands up your thighs as he lowers himself to the ground. He draws circles on the inside of your thighs, looking up at you. “Yeah?”
“No gifts.” You say, running a hand through his hair. He grins at you, kissing your thighs. “Just come at six okay?”
“I’ll be here.” He promises, biting your skin and making you shiver. “Now shut up. I missed you.”
….
Wednesday arrives quickly. You send a happy birthday text to Dabi paired with a scandalous photo of the blue underwear you’re wearing underneath one of his shirts, and he answers immediately. You remind him of what time he’s supposed to come by before leaving your phone behind on your bed to get ready for the day.
You go to the store for the ingredients you need to cook for him tonight. You pick up the small cake you ordered from the bakery down the street. You wrap the vintage leather jacket you found for him at a thrift store despite his insistence upon no gifts. Everything is going according to plan, for the most part.
That is until you hear his name from the mouth of the news anchor on your television as she describes the events of a villain attack somewhere in the city. From where you stand at the stove, you freeze, listening to the report. You’re too afraid to turn and look at the screen, knowing that if you see him, you’ll break.
The League of Villains, the anchor calls them, a name you find vaguely familiar. You don’t pay much attention to the news at all, but you can recall hearing of the group in passing. You don’t expect to hear your boyfriend's name in relation to them. You, at the very least, have half a mind to turn the stove off before you sink to the floor, bringing your knees to your chest. A villain. Dabi is a villain. For some reason, it doesn’t scare you as much as it should. More than anything, you’re upset about being lied to.
You know that the smart thing to do is call someone, the police, a hero, get someplace safe. You don’t want to do any of that though. You want to stare at the cabinets in front of you, and you want Dabi to come home.
You can’t think of anything but him, not the damage he’s done or the people he’s done it to, just him and the promise of his presence at your door at six o’clock. You can figure out the rest later.
He isn’t there at six, though, or seven or eight or any hour after that. You sit on the floor with the buzzing of voices on your television for hours before you pick yourself up. You pack up dinner numbly, placing things into tupperware that you put in the fridge without thinking. You turn the TV off, and you don’t change out of the dress you wore tonight specifically for him, and you don’t wash your face either. You just pull back the covers to your bed and clutch Dabi’s pillow tight. You don’t fall asleep.
Dabi comes home at around two a.m. He stumbles through your front door and leaves his key in the lock, slumping against the counter. He hears you come out of the bedroom, stopping at the end of the hallway and staring at him. He looks up at you for a moment but averts his gaze in shame. He’s a mess, staples missing and bleeding from his seams. His skin is raw and irritated against his clothes, and he’s sure some of his ribs are bruised.
And you, you look gorgeous, in that dress that Dabi’s always liked on you, your mascara lightly smeared underneath your eyes. Have you been crying? He can’t tell. He hopes you weren’t, not for him.
You walk toward him slowly, a little cautious, caught in between yelling at him or holding him. You can yell later, you think. Right now, you just want to stop the bleeding from his face and ice whatever injury he’s clutching at his side.
Approaching him, you bring your hands to rest at the side of his neck, urging him to look at you. He won’t. You sigh and push yourself closer to him. He doesn't move away. He nuzzles his cheek against yours, blood smearing across your skin, and you bring a hand down to his.
Silently, you pull away, tugging lightly on his hand for him to follow you. He stumbles for a moment before catching himself, walking behind you into the bathroom. He sits on the edge of the tub and thinks about when you dyed his hair for him, how long ago that feels now, how you might never do it again after tonight.
He watches you pull a first aid kit out from beneath your sink, rummaging through the supplies and setting them on the counter. You wash your hands and dampen a cloth, before leaning down to gently clean up the blood on his face. You do it all in silence, gently pulling away any staples that are near falling out, careful not to hurt him more than he already is. You remove his jacket from his shoulders and pull his shirt over his head, examining the rest of the seams in his skin. The ghost of a bruise is forming on his ribs, and you stand up to find something to ice it. Touya grabs your wrist before you can leave, his grip limp, tired. You could pull away easily if you wanted.
“Why are you doing this?” He rasps. You pause, turning around to look at him.
“You’re hurt.” You tell him.
“I’m late.” He says. “And I’m–”
“I don’t care.” You don’t care about what you saw on TV, or how late he was. You don’t even really care about the lying anymore, not when he’s bleeding on your bathtub.
Dabi stands with a groan, and you reach toward him to steady him. He takes the cloth from you and rests a hand on the back of your neck. He gently wipes your cheek in the place where his blood is smeared. You close your eyes, feeling the tension in your shoulders leave your body.
“Things are never going to be how they are now ever again, you know.” He speaks, setting the towel down on the counter. He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “You’ll know everything because I’m not going to hide it from you anymore, all of the gory details, everything I’ve done, everything I’m going to do.”
“Dabi.” You try to speak, but he doesn't let you. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, keeping you focused on him.
“I’m not a good man, and I don’t deserve you. And if I was better, I would let you walk out of here. But I’m not. I’ve always been weak, and I’m not losing you.” He’s desperate, so afraid that you’ll walk away, leave him, tell him he’s too much. “So you have to tell me now if you don’t want this.”
“I want it.” You speak, almost frantically. “Maybe something is wrong with me, but the only thing that mattered to me tonight was that you’d come home.”
“I am home.” He speaks, pulling you tight against his chest. He winces at the pressure on his ribs, but when you try to pull away, he only squeezes tighter. “I’m home.”
You wrap your arms around him, “Sorry your birthday sucked so bad.”
“We’ll try again next year.”
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happilyhertale · 1 year
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Long Last Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 7
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Summary: You are finally engaged to Aemond Targaryen. As the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra, you will now live in King's Landing and no longer on Dragonstone. Your marriage to Aemond is imminent, as is your life together. The relationship between Aemond and your family has never been particularly easy, but the future will show whether your love will withstand this and subsequent tensions.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: In some parts Smut (uncle/niece) as well as violence
Author’s note: Hey you (:
This is the follow-up story to "Long Lost Love".
The story starts just before the wedding of Aemond and y/n and goes over the events of the first season hotd. However, the events are not quite similar to those in the series. English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 3.7k
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15
Tag list people: I have re-entered you all by hand. If you notice that it didn't work, feel free to get in touch if I misspelled your name! And I noticed with a few of you (Not the ones that were successfully linked) that you don't show up "normally" in the search…. Check if maybe the same thing happened to you on Tumblr as happened to me the other day.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Many faces are standing around the bed in which you are lying. Maesters and midwives have gathered around you and want to help you bring your child into the world. But you are not lying in your bed. You didn't want to lie in your bed and bring your child into the world. As Aemond led you down the hall and literally carried you, you experienced a violent contraction and the greatest pain you had experienced up to that point. You fell to your knees and screamed. When the pain was over, you breathed heavily while Aemond held you somewhat helplessly. But when you felt the pain, almost your first thought was that you don't want to feel that pain in your bed. Your bed is the place where you only experience beautiful moments. Something so painful should not take place there and Aemond fulfils your every wish, so he has ordered that another bed be prepared for you.
So now you have been lying in this bed for hours. In the meantime you have also been lying in a warm tub, as the maesters hoped that the warmth would loosen your muscles a little and help this complicated birth along. Your baby is restless but does not want to enter this world yet. So you lay in the tub, pushing and screaming, crying and cursing, but it didn't help. Aemond sat by your tub the whole time, holding you and telling you that you could do it. Even when the water turned red from your blood, he didn't hesitate to hold you and stroke you to encourage you.
By now it is deepest night and the moon is high in the sky. Your body is soaked with tears and sweat. The sheet beneath you is soaked with greasy blood. Your family is gathered outside the chamber, but Aemond still does not leave your side. Not once in the last few hours has he left you alone. When you sat down on the bed at the beginning, he sat beside you and held your hand as a maester told the prince to leave the chambers. But Aemond only saw your panicked look and gave the maester a hateful look in response.
After another contraction you let your head fall back exhausted, your breathing is rapid and you gasp. Aemond dabs your forehead with a damp cloth. The maesters kneel before you, "Princess.... you will have to push again in a moment"
You nod, barely noticeable. Tears run down your face and Aemond gently wipes them away. As the contraction comes, you hear him, "You must push my Love".
"Don't tell me... what to dooo….!! You put me in this situation after all!" The fact that you can still grumble almost gives him a comforting feeling. If the birth had not already lasted hours....
He just smiles, "You wanted to make love to me".
"Shut up Aemond!!! This will never happen again!"
He kisses your forehead, "You can do this," he whispers to you.
Your head falls back again after you have used up your strength pushing. You whimper softly. You let your hands wander over your belly again and again. You try to do anything that might persuade the baby to finally leave your belly.
You turn your head to Aemond, "I can't take it anymore.... Aemond... this is going on too long... he's not coming. If he doesn't come out... If the maesters tell you it won't work.... Then you must lead me to Meraxes," you whisper in a tear-choked voice.
His eyes grow wide. His breath catches in his throat briefly as he just shakes his head, "No way. That's not going to happen." He strokes your cheek and whispers, "You have to do this. Please... Don't give up. For me... I need you... for us. For our baby."
You close your eyes, "I need a moment's peace," you whisper. Aemond looks at you worriedly. The fact that you close your eyes and want peace does not leave him with a reassuring feeling.
The door to the chambers opens cautiously and Alicent enters the chambers. Aemond looks at the door and suddenly feels uneasy as she looks at him anxiously and questioningly. For the first time he leaves your side. He gently kisses your hand and sets it down carefully. Your eyes are closed, but you smile.
He walks over to Alicent.
"How is she?" asks Alicent anxiously.
"She struggles... it takes a long time and is tedious," he replies with a serious expression.
Alicent nods, "My first birth was easier.... It was only the second one that was a little more difficult."
Aemond looks at his mother. He is afraid to say it. If he were to say it, it would suddenly be present, making it more likely to happen. But he has to do it, he has to ask his mother... "Mother... what if... what if the same thing happened to her as... happened to Aemma?"
Alicent's eyes grow wide and she looks at him, startled, grabbing his hand to calm him down, "Aemond! Don't even think about it! That's not going to happen. That was a terrible accident! It's going to be fine, okay?". She holds his cheek and strokes it, he just nods at her.
Suddenly he hears you screaming again. He looks at you and sees that you are pushing. You sit up straight and hold your knees. Your head is thrown back and you scream.
"Go to her," but before Alicent can finish the sentence, Aemond is on his way to you.
"My Love... I am here," he kneels beside you.
You look at him, tears streaming down your face, "Aemond..." you whimper, "I can't do this. He doesn't want to... he wants to stay inside me".
He just shakes his head as he stands up. He puts his hand carefully on your back and gives you the sign to slide forward a little. You breathe heavily and look at him in irritation, but you slide forward a little. He doesn't hesitate for long and climbs onto the bed behind you. He sits down carefully and holds you tightly. Exhausted, you let yourself fall against him, you have never felt so safe.
"You can do it, my Queen," he whispers, "If one person can push a baby out, it's you, okay?"
You try to nod, but the whimper that slips out does not make you look convincing.
"I can't do much for you, but I'm here. We'll do this together, okay?"
You nod again and reach for his hands. You push after the maesters tell you to push again. You press your back against his chest, but he leans towards you and gives you support.
Again and again he leaves kisses on the side of your face, hoping that it will soothe you and give you strength.
With your next scream, Aemond screams as well, and your screams echo through the chambers. You push with all your strength as you squeeze Aemond's hands. After the contraction you let yourself fall backwards again.
He kisses your cheek, "My Love, this will work!"
You nod, and mumble a "Thank you.. Aemond."
The Maesters turn to you again, "My Princess! It is coming! Please push again Princess y/n!"
A sob leaves you and Aemond holds you, wrapping his arms around you, "One more time, my Queen. Get our girl out of there! And you never have to sleep with me again either"
You almost have to laugh, "But perhaps I would still like to sleep with you again?"
He chuckles briefly, "Then I won't stop you."
You nod, "Again… thank you Aemond"
The fact that you are trying to be funny gives space to the calming feeling inside him. He laughs and kisses your cheek.
You sit up a little and push with the last of your strength as the contraction comes.
The contraction was shorter and again you fall back against Aemon's chest, he kisses the side of your face, "My Love.... My Queen... I love you" leaves his lips, over and over again.
You hear the Maester again, "My Princess, push again. Give the baby another push!" And you push.
Suddenly screams fill the room and this time they are not yours. You breathe out quickly, intermittently. Aemond has you tight in his arms and with the last push, your baby comes out of you.
The maesters take the baby and step away from you for a moment to clean it.
You are breathing heavily and just lying in Aemonds arms as the midwives approach you, they have to extract your afterbirth. You cry out once more and Aemond still holds you. The midwives clean you afterwards.
Then a maester approaches you, "Prince Aemond, Princess y/n, it's a girl. A healthy girl!".
A short laugh leaves your lips.
She is placed in your arms and you can only smile. You have your crying daughter in your arms and you have never seen anything more beautiful. You are instantly in love. She has exactly the same silver hair that adorns your heads. Slowly you stroke it. She opens her eyes briefly and the familiar purple glows from her eyes. Her cries subside as your eyes meet, you smile softly at her. A unique beauty shines towards you and has you completely under its spell. During your pregnancy you often thought that your love for Aemond would halve after the birth of your child. But how wrong you were. Your love for these two beings feels at least twice as big. Aemond still sitting behind you, holding you close, and your beautiful daughter in your arms. The love to be felt in this chambers is overwhelming right now.
"I told you it would be a..."
"Shut up Aemond. Don't ruin my moment"
He has to grin and gently kisses your cheek. Aemond rests his chin on your shoulder. Carefully he reaches for her feet, "Hey my little girl.... You took a long time.... and torturing your mother."
You chuckle and kiss her head. You close your eyes and breathe in the fresh scent of the newborn. Gently you let your lips glide over the light base of the silver hair.
Aemond kisses you lightly above your ear and gently strokes the baby's legs. You watch as Aemond lets his fingers wander over each of your daughter's toes and fingers.
"What are you doing?" you whisper.
He grins, "I don't know. I want to make sure she is healthy... and having ten toes and fingers seems like a good start."
You have to laugh and you look at him, he is still grinning. You can't help but kiss him.
"Our healthy daughter... What name shall she have?"
You grin.
A "Mhhm?" sounds from him and he nudges you with his nose.
You look at him, "Alyssa. Alyssa Targaryen."
Aemond has to grin, "Daddy's girl through and through?"
You smile and nod, "Dad often told me that my personality often reminded him of his mother's personality. The fact that I could never really get enthusiastic about sewing and embroidery... Maybe it'll rub off on her and she'll get excited about reading and sword fighting instead... this seems a fitting tribute to my grandmother."
Slowly he lets his lips slide onto yours as you gently hold Alyssa against your chest.
You both look up as the door opens. Your families come in and Alyssa startles. Screams fill the room again and you cradle her gently against your chest.
You turn your head to Aemond, "Quite the father. As soon as many people are gathered, she feels uncomfortable."
Aemond smiles and kisses your cheek.
Everyone gathers around the bed and you announce, "It's a girl".
You are met with nothing but smiling faces and your mother comes to your side, "My girl now has her own girl", she gently strokes your arm. Your smile does not leave your face as you nod happily to her.
"You had been outside the chambers all this time?"
"Of course," your father replies. You smile at him.
Rhaenyra caresses her granddaughter, "She is so sweet..." she whispers and gently strokes her head.
"Even though she cries?" you reply with a smile.
Your mother smiles, "What name shall she have?"
You smile and Aemond kisses your cheek again, "Alyssa. Alyssa Targaryen."
You look to your father now and he cannot suppress a proud smile.
He steps to your side, "May I hold her?" he almost whispers.
You nod and hand Alyssa into Daemon's arms.
Daemon holds her tightly and immediately feels taken back to the time when he first held you in his arms. Alyssa suddenly stops crying and looks at her grandsire. Daemon gently strokes her belly, "Hey my.... littlest dragon"
He holds her tightly and cradles her in his arms, gently pressing his nose to her head to breathe in the scent of the newborn. A small crowd of Alicent, Helaena and your mother now forms around Daemon, all wanting to catch a glimpse of the newest member of the family. Jace and Luke are also standing next to the baby, but they want to let the ladies look first.
Aemond notices how calm you become in his arms, "My Love...shall I take you to our chambers?"
You just nod, a sudden tiredness has overtaken you.
Aemond carefully gets up and then helps you to rise carefully from the bed. Aemond and Daemon's eyes meet and they nod at each other.
Slowly Aemond leads you to your chambers, "As I said, if you want me to carry you, all you have to do is say so," he grins at you.
"Shut up Aemond," you reply and cling to his arm.
He chuckles and gently kisses your head, "Is that actually going to be your new pet name for me?"
"Only if you keep trying to annoy me," you smile slightly.
Slowly you go to your chambers. Your parents follow you, with Alyssa in their arms. As you enter your chambers, you see that a cradle has been brought into your chambers and, as if ordered, the blue dragon egg lies in it. You have to smile for a moment.
Aemond leads you to the bed and helps you lie down. You exhale sharply as you finally lie down.
Daemon and Rhaenyra place Alyssa in the cradle next to the blue dragon egg. They stand over the cradle for a moment longer, looking down at Alyssa with a smile.
It makes you happy to see your parents standing proudly bent over the cradle, but your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier. But then you notice that Aemond does not lie down. You lean slightly on your elbow and want to hold his arm so that he lies down with you.
He chuckles, "I'll be right next to you," gently kissing your forehead.
You can't help but lie down again, the urge to sleep is just too strong. As you drift off to sleep, Daemon and Rhaenyra quietly leave your chambers.
Aemond walks over to the cradle. He smiles down at his daughter and kneels beside the cradle. Alyssa is sleeping, she seems as exhausted as you are.
Aemond just smiles and gently strokes the little head. His daughter is perfect. He cannot find any other words to describe his sleeping girl in the cradle. He has never seen anything so perfect and the fact that he is partly responsible for this little being now being in this world makes him feel an indescribable joy. His little dragon girl. He would give everything for her. He would give his life, should it be necessary, to protect her. Yours and Alyssa's safety are now his top priority. It almost seems like an unrealistic dream to him as he watches his girl for a while longer. If he had imagined two years ago that he would have a daughter, that he would be married, to you, his great love, he would have laughed. He would never have dared to dream that he would see you again. And even less would he have imagined that it would end with you giving yourself to him, that you would get married. That it hadn't damaged your intimacy that you hadn't been in contact for so long.
It was also unimaginable for him to be a father, to father something so small and perfect with you. Now he wouldn't trade this feeling, his life, for anything in the world.
Slowly, he leans down to Alyssa and gently kisses her forehead. She exhales loudly and strained in response and he has to smile. After making sure Alyssa is well covered and safe next to her egg, he walks back to your bed. He undresses and carefully lies down behind you. He holds you and murmurs another "I love you" and falls asleep beside you.
You are floating between sleep and the real world, feeling the warmth of your bed, when you remember what happened last night. Slowly you open your eyes. Out of habit, you let your hands wander to your belly, but you feel a sudden emptiness. Where yesterday there was a huge belly with your baby inside, today there is no longer a huge belly. You look down at your belly and exhale deeply. Your eyes fall on the cradle and through the bars you see that only the dragon egg is in the cradle.
It must already be noon... The sun is high in the sky and you look through the window into the distance. Aemond is not lying next to you. He must have been awake for hours and is probably already in the training yard... or with Alyssa? Your gaze wanders around the room and stops at a small table next to your bed. On the table are various drinks, fruit and some bread. Suddenly you notice how your throat hurts from dryness and how thirsty you are.
Slowly you sit up a little and take a large cup of water, you drink it all.
You hear a soft knock on the door and before you can answer, you hear the door open and see your father carefully poking his head through.
When he sees that you are awake, he smiles and enters your chambers. Alyssa is in his arms and Jace is close behind Daemon.
Slowly he comes towards you.
"Have you been carrying her all this time?" you ask in a hoarse voice.
Daemon chuckles, "Let me be a proud grandsire".
As he stands by your side, he cradles Alyssa in his arms and exhales deeply, "You know, the first time I held her, I couldn't help but think of the first time I held you. Did I ever tell you about that?"
You shake your head just slightly.
"I was there when you were born..." he smiles slightly and looks to you, "... Every second I suffered with your mother from afar. It was not an easy birth... and with every contraction that brought you a little closer to our world, I wished that you were my child and that it could be seen. And when I first saw you and held you in my arms... Gods, you were so small..." He smiles briefly, lost in thought "... it was all over for me. I knew you were my daughter, my little dragon. And I wanted the world to know it as well."
You have to smile and a "Daddy..." leaves your lips.
"No, let me finish or I don't think I'll ever tell."
Again he looks at you, "So I knew you were my daughter. Your hair, your eyes... your soft skin... when I held you, you enchanted me. I couldn't help but smile. And the gods know that I don't often smile when I hold children in my arms. But I knew right away that I wanted to be your father. Officially. I went straight to your grandsire and asked for your legitimacy. You were supposed to be a Targaryen.... The whole world should know that you are my daughter.... A Targaryen, not a Velaryon."
You are speechless. You knew your father asked for your legitimacy, but you didn't know how emotional that was for him, and that he immediately asked for your legitimacy.
"... And that will never change. No matter what a Vaemond Velaryon said, you are not a bastard. You are Princess y/n Targaryen. And as I held this little one tonight, I was reminded of our first moment together... and I wanted you to know... that... I will never forget it."
Tears come to your eyes, "Daddy..." you sob.
Daemon carefully hands Alyssa to Jace and sits down on the bed with you. You bury your face in his neck and he holds you, "My little dragon."
After a while he breaks the embrace, you lightly wipe the tears from your eyes, "And you know, you really made a cute little girl... but are you sure Aemond is the father?"
You look at him irritated, "What? Of course! Why do you ask?"
"Well, I'm just saying... The littlest dragon has two eyes and Aemond..."
"Dad! Stop it," you punch him lightly and hear Jace chuckle.
Your eyes fall on Jace, he looks to you and smiles, "She's really cute. She must get that from you at least"
You smile back.
Jace takes a step forward as he cradles Alyssa in his arms, "Y/n about yesterday... I really didn't mean to hit you...I'm sorry..."
You shake your head, "It's okay, I know that.... But maybe you should stop using every opportunity to annoy each other. Nothing good comes out of it and in the end someone could still lose an eye..."
Jace and your father look at you, startled at first. You don't make a face. But you can't stand it for long and you all start laughing.
"Please don't tell Aemond I was joking about that," you say as you calm down.
Your father gives you a hug in response and Jace sits down on the bed with Alyssa in his arms.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
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283 notes · View notes
unforth · 1 year
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There was some post by a 16 year old floating around Tumblr that was like "kids should never have devices, actually, if I was a parent I wouldn't give my kid anything until they were 13 or older" and I, a grown up with two children, know from experience... look. I did my best to keep my kids from screens. I really did. But like. I read on my phone. I social media on my phone. I play games on my phone. I always have my phone. And they see me with it and SURPRISE, THEY WANT ONE. THEY WANT TO USE IT. If mommy thinks it's cool and uses it that much, how could they NOT want one? So I added a comment to that post that said, "then you as an adult better be prepared to give up your own phone because when the kid sees you using it they're going to want it."
And I got multiple. m.u.l.t.i.p.l.e., hate-ridden replies impugning my parenting over this. To the point that I went in and deleted my comment because months and months later I'd still get some random teenager @ ing me for being tHe WoRsT pArEnT because. I am an actual parent. Accepting an actual reality. Of parenting during the 2020s. That if as an adult I have screen time, my kid is (SHOCK) also going to want screen time! And no I'm not going to *give up reading books* (when all the books I want to read are only available as e-books) just to try to stop my kid from screen time.
Adults are just as addicted. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, a problem or not, is open to opinion, but obviously: indicates: if a kid sees the parent using their time that way, the kid is going to want to do it too!
(and no, I don't scold my kids for screen time. I actually am always impressed how much I see them learning during their screen time! and we talk about it! and we play games WITH them! My wife and I both learned how to play Minecraft because my son is obsessed! And guess what he's learned to build amazing things and it's useful to him as spacial awareness and problem solving in so many contexts!)
(Sorry, I'm always a nudge away from writing a post about screen time myself and I'm apparently very talkative today.)
(I'm breaking this out into it's own post because I looked at the comments and notes on that other one and it's just as much teenagers going YEAH THOSE OLD PEOPLE ARE THE PROBLEM and I'm so fucking tired of listening to people who don't have kids tell us how we parents are going wrong when they have no idea, n.o. i.d.e.a., how hard it is to be a parent right now and how little support we're getting. I've posted about it before and I'll post about it again, if you can't offer anything other than to be YET ANOTHER PERSON screaming that parents are Doing Parenting Wrong in the umpteenth way that contradicts all the OTHER ways we get bombarded with being told we're Doing Parenting Wrong, you really need to shut the fuck up.)
77 notes · View notes
overtrred28 · 4 months
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Stargirl | matildas x original character fic [part twelve]
Tumblr media
Words; 2.8k
Pairings; matildas team x astrid taylor (OC)
Warnings; swearing
A/N; sorry for the late update. also if you’re a follower of this series please link if i should continue this story on tumblr or if it’s easier to just read it on wattpad or Ao3. xx
masterlist
The next Matildas camp came around a few weeks later and this time it was in London, making Astrid very excited as she had never had the chance to visit before. But even though she was excited to do some minimal sightseeing, she was more excited to be playing for the Matildas again and continuing to show the coaches how much she was improving while at Hammarby. Though she really didn’t have anything to prove in regards to her footballing skills, the recent score sheets of their games showed just how hard she was working. 
Between the last international break and this one, Hammarby had played 5 games and won 3 of them, thanks to goals by Astrid and Kyra. Astrid had started and scored in all games, proving her to be a consistent player who was able to help out the team in both halves of the game, scoring in either the first or last few minutes. 
“ASTRID!” Kyra pounded on Astrid’s front door, Courtney standing behind her watching the time. The door finally swings open to reveal a dishevelled, panting Astrid. 
“Will you shut up? It is five o’clock in the morning for fuck’s sake.” Astrid hissed at the older girl before walking back through her small apartment, Kyra and Courtney shuffling in behind with their suitcases. 
“Well I wouldn’t have to be that loud if you had just been ready 15 minutes ago when we told you to be.” Kyra argued back, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Astrid disappear into her bedroom. 
“We do have to be at the airport by seven and it takes an hour and forty minutes on a good day.” Courtney nodded from her place beside Kyra, looking around at the small messes that had accumulated throughout Astrid’s place. 
“I know that. I slept in and needed to finish packing, okay? Can we move on and get going then?” Astrid reappears with her bags and a large coat now covering her body, preparing for the cool weather of London when they arrive.
“Let’s go.” Courtney nodded at the pair, interrupting before more arguing would begin and she would have to listen to them bicker on the whole drive and probably the whole flight. Luckily because it was still so early, all three girls had fallen back to sleep on the plane and woke up a little more civil than before they arrived in London. 
It was 10:30am when they landed in London and the girls had taken a bus straight from the airport to the team hotel to settle into their rooms, while the rest of the team had begun day one of training. Because of their flight times and recent playing schedules, players had been trickling in since last night, a few more still to arrive tomorrow or the next day, still leaving a few days to train as a whole group before their match against South Africa. 
Astrid and Kyra had been given their shared room number and headed straight up, wanting to get rid of their bags as soon as they could. 
“Mine!” Astrid once again snagged the window bed first, leaving Kyra the one closer to the door, sighing as she watched Astrid flop onto it. “I could do with a nap to be honest.” Astrid mumbled with her eyes closed. 
“Nope!” Kyra pulled the tired girl up by her wrist from the bed, a small squeal coming from Astrid at the unexpected movement. 
“Hey!” Astrid protested as she landed on her feet, still subconsciously holding onto Kyra’s hand as they faced each other very closely. “Why not?” She whined, looking into Kyra’s eyes. 
“Because I know if you nap now then you won’t be able to sleep tonight. And then you’ll complain and keep me up and then we’ll both be tired and cranky tomorrow.” Kyra explained with a stern yet still soft look. 
“Fine.” Astrid huffed, reaching down to the bed where her phone had landed. “Can we go explore then? Most of the girls are still at training for another hour and I’m hungry.” She smiled at Kyra. 
“Let’s go get the others then, Stargirl.” Kyra turned to the doorway, holding her arm out for Astrid to link her own in. They made their way down the hall to Charli and Teagan’s room, collecting them and Courtney from next door to join their adventure. 
They exited their hotel and began to walk the streets of London, marvelling at the beautiful architecture and historical buildings. Astrid’s eyes lit up as they walked through the city she wished to live in one day, feeling completely at home in this atmosphere.
Whilst they were walking, Astrid had moved from Kyra’s arm over to Charli’s, once again catching up after a few weeks apart. They had been together for Charli’s birthday not that long ago; the Hammarby players surprised the now 21 year old during a free weekend and celebrated her with Tegan, Mini and even Harper whilst down there. But even with how much time they spent apart, despite living in the same country, they immediately took off where they left, talking as if no time had passed at all. 
The five of them stumbled into a random café and studied the menu once sitting down. They caught up even more whilst eating and talked about the two upcoming games and what they could possibly look like. After a very satisfying lunch they had begun the walk back to the hotel to hang out with the rest of the team now that their training session had wrapped up. 
Astrid had been the last to join the team in the room where everyone else gathered, taking the time to get changed into something comfy before heading back down; and was it made known. 
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to join the cool kids.” Sam had come walking over to where Astrid paused in the doorway, looking up from her phone to see the whole room of girls staring and smiling at her. 
“Really? I don’t see any.” Astrid put a hand over her eyes as she searched the room, stopping at Sam’s face in front of her. “Yep. Definitely no cool kids here.” She frowned as she made direct eye contact with the captain. And within seconds Sam had put Astrid in a headlock and began rubbing her head as the younger girl squirmed in her hold. 
“You think you’re funny do ya?” Sam was laughing at the girl unable to release from her grasp, the rest of the room watching the interaction between the two players. Sam and Astrid had formed a natural and strong bond instantly when Astrid first joined. Sam had seen a lot of herself in the once 17 year old striker and wanted to mentor and take her under her wing, ensuring Astrid made the right choices for her career to grow as a person and a player. They had a sibling bond that was different to the ones they had with everyone else, picking on each other endlessly but knowing it came from a place of love. 
“I do, yeah.” Astrid spoke from within Sam’s tight grasp. Sam laughed and eventually let her go and pulled Astrid into a hug, the latter girl always happy to be reunited with who she looked up to so much.  “Good to see you Sammy.” 
“You too kid.” Sam spoke into Astrid’s shoulder, squeezing once more before letting go. “So being at Hammarby is treating you well aye? I’ve seen your recent games and I gotta say I was pretty impressed by that nutmeg a few weeks back.” Sam laughed before looking around the room. “Cait was too.” She nodded to the Arsenal forward and Astrid let out a smile, spotting Caitlin, Macca and Lani playing some form of card game.
“Thought I’d try something new.” Astrid shrugged her shoulders. Sam patted her on the back before excusing herself, being dragged into another conversation with some coaching staff members. 
After a night of shared laughs and conversation the squad had dinner together and headed off for an early bed, Astrid more than happy to finally get to sleep after a long day. 
The next morning after breakfast the whole squad had piled onto the bus to make their way to the training pitch for day 2 now that everyone had arrived and they could have a proper session. For the England based girls who trained yesterday it was more intense than those who were just coming into camp and off the back of games like the Sweden based girls. 
Astrid was having a great session so far, on top of her drills and even reaching a new top speed in their monitored sprints. But because the coaches and physios didn’t want those fresh from club games to be overworked, after an hour they sent them off for a light gym session; which highly disappointed Astrid who would miss the end of match scrimmages today. 
Day 3 quickly rolled around after a night of rest and they were on their final day of training at the Wimbledon Qualifying and Community Sports Centre before completing their MD-1 at Kingsmeadow tomorrow. Though Astrid tended to be quite goofy and silly during these camps, when it came time to train she was heavily focused on keeping in top shape for the games. 
Everyone began to notice this about the young forward as of late, impressed with her dedication but confused about her lack of lighthearted pranks and laughter during their training sessions. Truth is she was just trying to keep up a standard she had begun to set for herself. And with her accomplishments so far at club and international level it was pretty high. 
She felt the need to prove herself and her place in the Matildas squad because she was so young and inexperienced compared to the other players. She knew she would have to keep working so hard after her initial call up, because you don’t always know if you’ll get one when camp rolls around. 
This anxiety of maybe not being called up again began just before this camp when she was back in Sweden. Because this camp was quite close to their last one, the squad was selected quite quickly so preparations could be made for flights, accommodation and other admin things. 
Kyra, Courtney and Charli all got their call ups on the same day, telling each other instantly and they waited for Tony to call Astrid and celebrate all together. But that call didn’t come on the day everyone else’s had and it left Astrid confused and upset. The girls tried to encourage the youngest player and Astrid brushed it off, convincing them she was fine but she would be lying if she said it did mess with her a little bit. 
A week passed and she finally got that call from Tony asking her to join them in London for the next camp. She was excited to be called up but still lost and worried as to why she wasn’t asked in the first place, considering how well she had been playing at Hammarby recently and during that last camp since returning from her injury. 
That’s why she was pushing so hard in training today, and it’s safe to say everyone was impressed. She was slotting shot after shot into the back of the net during the drills and attacking strongly during the scrimmage they were currently playing. 
She was all over the field, originally being placed up front on the left but drifting behind and in towards centre when needed to, stealing the ball back from her opposition with ease to then run at it alone and score 4 goals for her team. The final whistle blew, her team winning thanks to her. And although she had fun in the scrimmages, she was exhausted after this one, dropping her hands onto her knees, taking deep breaths into her lungs while feeling her friends patting her on the back as they walked past. 
“You okay stargirl?” Charli’s voice appeared and Astrid finally stood, looking the blonde in the eyes as she handed her a water bottle. “You really pushed yourself out there, huh?” Charli shot her signature smile as Astrid squirted the cool water into her mouth.
“Guess so.” Astrid shrugged nonchalantly, hot in her shorts and t-shirt training kit even though it was only around 16 degrees celsius right now. 
“Come on, superstar.” Charli wrapped an arm around her and they began to walk towards where the group had huddled around Tony and the rest of the staff. After praising their performance today, Tony applauded them and sent them off inside to do some recovery but before Astrid could leave the pitch, Tony caught her for a chat. 
“Astrid.” Tony called to her, Astrid pausing between Charli and Kyra, telling them she’ll catch up. 
“What’s up Tony?” She used a hand to block the sun from her eyes. 
“I just wanted to applaud you on your hard work today and over the past few months. You’ve really gotten stuck right into it after your injury and I’m very proud of your progress.” Tony spoke kindly and Astrid felt her heart grow. 
“Thank you, it really means a lot.” She smiled brightly at him, grateful for his kind words.
“You deserve it. You’re a real asset to this team and I’m so glad to have you here with us.” He politely held her free hand, squeezing it between his own. 
“Glad to be here, coach.” She nodded, squeezing his hands in her own before excusing herself to join the team inside. That small conversation with Tony changed her mindset of this camp. They wanted her here and a part of this team and believed her actions made a real difference on and off the pitch. 
For MD-1 they headed over to Kingsmeadow, aka the home of Chelsea. Astrid was excited to go to the grounds where legends had played and Sam could tell. Astrid was the first one to walk onto the pitch, admiring it when Sam caught up to her. 
“It’s beautiful isn't it?” Sam was half talking to the cameraman filming them and to Astrid as well. 
“Not bad Sammy.” She kicked the grass with her foot, looking around at the empty stands. 
“So, when you gonna come join me and play on this every week?” Sam snickered and Astrid whipped her head quickly. The team had followed the pair and made their way onto the field slowly, walking past the two stopped strikers.
“Do you not know where my loyalties lie Samantha? London is red through and through.” Astrid stuck her tongue out, hearing the cheers from Steph, Caitlin and Lydia behind her. 
“Atta girl!” Steph cheered, Astrid turning around to spot her, smiling at her before turning back to Sam. 
“I have lost all respect for you.” Sam deadpanned before walking off to her team. Astrid just laughed out loud before sprinting to catch up with her, jumping directly on her back. “Get off me you jerk!” Astrid laughed while detaching herself from Sam’s back, now standing beside her.
“Have you not seen my childhood pictures? I lived in an Arsenal kit.” She crossed her arms over her chest, squinting at Sam through the bright sun. 
“Whatever.” The captain waved her off and walked away from Astrid and the Arsenal players who had surrounded and laughed alongside her before they all walked back off to the rest of the group. 
After a long and intense day of training the team headed back for their pre match team dinner of pasta and a night spent enjoying each other's company. But with focus pulling towards what could be a tough match tomorrow against South Africa, everyone headed off to their rooms for bed. 
“Okay, predictions for tomorrow?” Astrid broke the silence in her and Kyra’s room as they laid in separate beds. Kyra placed her phone down, stopping her previous scrolling to look at Astrid. This had become part of their pre match routine whether they shared a room or not, speaking what their thoughts on the future match were and placing bets for the winning predictions. 
“Alright. You,” Kyra points at Astrid in the mostly dark room. “Are going to score… a brace in the last… 20 minutes of play.” Kyra smirked at the other girl, Astrid raised her eyebrows. 
“God, setting high standards are we?” Astrid scoffed at the midfielder before thinking of her own predictions. “You are going to start.” She paused. “Play the full game and have an assist.” She smirked in the darkness. 
“You have a lot of faith in me.” Kyra laughed, Astrid joining in softly. “Loser has to take the winner out for lunch before the next game.” Kyra placed the bet, sitting up and closer to the edge of her bed to extend her hand to Astrid who was doing the same. With soft smiles they shook each other's hands, sealing the deal before lying back in their own beds. 
“Goodnight Ky Ky.” Astrid whispered in the silence. She could just see Kyra’s face with the small moonlight that crept in through the curtains, a soft smile still lingering. 
“Goodnight stargirl.” Kyra spoke into the room before they both drifted off to sleep.
to be continued...
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dhorrl · 2 months
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So, my little self-ship headcanons with Katsuki <3 thanks @Bakubunny for the idea! (Also for some reason it’s refusing to actually link her page! This is dumb sometimes tumblr is so stupid, will play with it again later 🤦🏻‍♀️)
- K so let me start my saying that in my little pretend world, UA is a college. Here’s my logic. These guys are kids, and honestly I have to remind myself when I’m reading the manga and stuff because they’re going so through so much trauma at such a young age 😭 and if I’m also gonna be going to UA I’d much rather be going after I’m more emotionally developed just sayin’
- So as for me! I started UA because I wanted to be a hero, although not so much because of All Might like so many of the others. I just wanted to help people and find a use for my Quirk.
- Oh, so I manipulate Oxygen! I have a whole little world building in my based on some actually research I did once but the gist in this… take away oxygen, fire and explosions can’t happen… add oxygen, fire and explosions go big boom… got it? Got it…
- So my first little sparring match with Katsuki, he didn’t think anything of me, didn’t even know my name, didn’t even have an annoying nickname for me, that’s how little he paid attention.
- But when he tried to throw an explosion in my face and I snuffed it out before he could say “DIE,” let’s just say I had his attention then.
- By attention I mean he started by hating me almost as much as he hated Deku.
- Until the next time we had to do a training and we were teamed up together. He told me to just shut my trap and let me work, which I’m like naw I ain’t the one.
- So he went to throw a big ole explosion at Kiri, who was already prepared and fully hardening… so I through a bubble of oxygen and make his explosion a possible too big of a bang. (Eiji was fine, I promise, maybe a little time with Recovery Girl).
- So now I had his attention in a good way, even if he didn’t understand that yet.
- Kats is a tsundere, I’m sorry we all know it… so he had very roundabout ways of trying to see me but didn’t wanna just admit it. Honestly I was oblivious to it, I was focused on school and shit.
- Until one day Eijiro started to put two and two together, and made a plan. He set up a study session with Katsuki, then went and invited me, not telling his bro. Eijiro told me to meet him in Bakugo’s room and I said sure.
- I get there and Kats is looking at Eijiro like he’s about to rip his head off. Then Eiji plays dumb and says he’s actually gotta run and dips, leaving us alone. Shit was awkward for a bit cause he wouldn’t just tell me to leave I’m a stubborn bitch, but by the end of the study session I was starting to crush on him hard and he was pretty sure he was gonna… well yeah. 😂
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jackofanon · 6 months
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It’s Been A While
♥︎ edgar allan poe with a g/n!reader
♥︎ summary: its been months since he left for japan, and you’ve been longing to see your wonderful lover. but now, he’s finally here again.
♥︎ cw: fluff, reader referred to in 2nd person
♥︎ siderbar: hello everyone! I apologize for the delay for this! I have been dealing with some personal issues, as well as stuff off of tumblr, which is why this took so long for me to post. hope you all understand, and enjoy this somewhat short oneshot! ^^
— | * ♡ *⁎⁺˳✧ ༚
A sort of anxious thrill flowed through your body as your eyes fell to the ground. You gazed at the tiled floors of the airport, the sound of rolling luggage coming and going echoing through your ears.  It’s been more than half a year since your boyfriend, Edgar, had left for Japan. And today was the day that he’d come back.
Edgar never really gave you sound explanation of why he had to leave you that day, only that ‘he urgently had to pay his dues to someone.’ But, despite being skeptical of why he decided to scurry off on such short notice, you decided to trust in his judgment for the time being. 
He had also taken his pet raccoon—which you personally saw as a sort of son—Karl with him as well. Edgar had always entrusted you with taking care of Karl whenever he traveled far, so the fact that he brought the fellow with them this time must’ve meant that the situation was one of urgency (or perhaps he didn’t want to feel alone). 
Despite being without your beloved or Karl, you still pulled through, checking on Edgar every week or so through call. That way, you never felt like he was truly gone; admittedly, you still missed actually seeing him in the flesh; his ramblings about his current works of fiction; the way Edgar’s hands felt in yours, his palms tensing up from the slightest of movement as if he never wanted to let you go; even something as small as his soft smile… The smile that made you fall mad for him all those years ago.
The cold air from the AC swept onto you, your  thoughts leaving you as the busy noises of the airport seemed to come back alive. Taking a deep breath, you continued to wait for a few more minutes, the footsteps of people around you muffling when you felt your phone vibrate.  You dug your hand into the one of the pockets of your jeans, the screen light up once you tapped on it. A dim light washed over your face as you held the phone close enough for you to read whatever notification you’d gotten.
As your eyes fell on your lock-screen, you felt the purest of happiness arise in you; it was a text from Edgar. We just landed one the runway! Me and Karl will see you shortly, [name], you read out internally, a giddy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You immediately shut down your phone, stuffing it back into your pocket as you scanned the  place for him. Your eyes looked around for a while, searching, and search…Until, you finally spotted him; a tall frame with dark brown mullet containing some purpleish undertones, his bangs covering his tired, pale purple eyes (which even you rarely got a glimpse of). 
He was in his usual, professional attire, his black cape swaying from side to side as he walked forward, luggage in hand; Karl curled up on one of his shoulders. The raccoon chittered, spotting you just before Edgar did. He smiled softly, waving at you as he approached you. But, before you knew it, you were already running towards him, arms spread wide as you prepared to engulf him in a did.
When you crashed into Edgar, he stumbled backwards, a startled look on his face, though it was short-lived; Karl trying to keep his balance on Edgar’s shoulders as he tried to stop himself from falling. “You seem quite excited to see me, dear.” Edgar spoke warmly, as he sheepishly reciprocated your embrace, looking deeply into your sparkling irises. “Well, of course I am!” You giggled, placing a small kiss on his cheek, “You left for a long time, y’know.”
Edgar chuckled awkwardly, Karl climbing onto your one of your shoulders as he begun to speak, “And I apologize for doing so. But, the situation that I was in was…Rather complex.” You raised an eyebrow, curiosity creeping into you as you asked pondered about why he hadn’t told you sooner. Edgar had never mention anything besides having to visit somebody, so, it was a mystery to you as to why he decided to bring this up just now. Concern riddled in your tone, you inquired, “What do you mean?” 
“That’s out of the question,” Your lover stammered, trying to steer away from this topic for god knows what reason. He cleared his throat, trying to put on a soft smile. Though, you still felt how bothered he was. You let go of him, a glint of confusion in your eyes, but, you decided not to pry further…For now. “Alright, fine. But, promise me that you’ll at least tell me in the privacy of our house, okay?~”  You purred, seeing as Poe’s smile became a little more genuine. “Why of course,” He said. taking one of his hands into yours, Karl chirping as he scampered from your head to your shoulder, “Now, shall we go my dear?”
You beamed, nodding as you giggled as Karl’s fur brushed against your cheeks, signaling Poe to lead you on. The distant, yet familiar feeling of Poe’s palm against yours, a giddy feeling filling up your heart. Although you hadn’t considered yourself the clingy type, you couldn’t help yourself at this point. As long as he was here now, and not somewhere out of reach, it didn’t matter… But, you still wanted an explanation to who was the person that occupied your lover’s thoughts so much, that it caused him to leave you behind. However, you let your worried thoughts linger to the side, as you didn’t want to ruin this moment of reunion between you, and him.
The only person you had your eyes on.
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eurydicees · 3 months
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Idk if anyone has asked this before on tumblr or if you made a post about it, but what are your favorite hq fics? (Or fics that stuck with you)
MY FAVORITE TOPIC* !!!! so i have a #fic rec tag that i collect fics in like a dragon hoarding gold, but here are some special favorites from my ao3 bookmarks**! sorted by ship/theme, but otherwise not in any particular order (under the cut bc this got WAY too long). if you've already read all these you should ask for more recs. i have them. i have so many.
*my other favorite topic is talking about MY fics. here is a link to my ao3. shameless self promo and all that <3
**i read a, um, concerning amount of iwaoi, so this is an iwaoi heavy list. sorry but also not really because there's a LOT of good fics abt them.
getting together fics <333333
my heart is where it's always been by foreverautumn (iwaoi, 21113 words)
Iwaizumi knows he shouldn’t care who Oikawa might have feelings for, but within the span of three days, it’s somehow the only thing he can think about.
State of Grace by lahdolphin (kuroshou, 6985 words)
Kuroo's relationship with Daishou had never been simple. Kissing him didn't make up for the many years Kuroo spent agonizing over him, but it was a very good start.
all that i see by princessofthebugs (iwaoi, 649 words)
Iwaizumi confesses to him on his birthday, as he sits on his floor, shredding paper into tiny bits. "I used to like you."
the strange music of your heart by caniculeo (bokuaka, 18446 words)
in which akaashi falls for bokuto first.
i was tired and you were standing in the best light by keishn (iwaoi, 7148 words)
It's the time of year that the sun starts setting when they get out of practice. Looking at Oikawa with the pink-orange light reflected in his eyes and shining off his hair is not something Hajime thinks he can survive.
open doors and plastic stars by ikeru (iwaoi, 22708 words)
Loving Oikawa has never been exclusive to Iwaizumi—not when Oikawa is a magnet, an incandescent star that pulls and pulls until you can’t help but watch him, love him. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but his heart breaks all the same.
life is chances that are taken by bohemianraspberries (iwaoi, 3970 words)
He isn’t afraid that Oikawa won’t want to be his friend anymore, because neither of them are like that and besides, he’s fairly sure by now that Oikawa likes boys too – it’s the fear that nothing will change. He might tell Oikawa that he thinks he’s not a hundred per cent straight, Oikawa might tell him the same, and they might continue to stay best friends forever, and Iwaizumi isn’t so sure that’s all he wants anymore. Because he’s pretty certain that it’s not just boys he’s into – it’s Oikawa.
the rest of your life by Queen_Dragon_Lightning_Castle (iwaoi, 2983 words)
When Hanamaki asks him what type of girl he’d go for, Hajime shrugs. ”Dunno. As long as she’s chill.” Thereupon, Tooru tries too hard when he doesn't need to try at all.
Underneath the Mistletoe by orphan_account (kuroken, 3811 words)
While Kenma and Kuroo are out together to see the local Christmas lights, they find a special display for taking festive pictures. If only they had paid closer attention to all of the decorations...
shut up (make me) by love_yourself_1358 (iwaoi, 11557 words)
alternatively: how Oikawa is the most oblivious person ever. But that's okay. Iwaizumi will still be his happy ending.
canon-to-me character studies
An Opponent Is Announced by agletbaby (genfic, 13141 words)
In which Sakusa is trying to prepare for the Olympics, but Oikawa Tooru's backstory keeps getting in the way.
don't talk to me or any of my fourteen children ever again by meregalaxiesandgods (ukai & karasuno vbc, 39963 words)
Ukai Keishin was not—and had no interest in becoming—a father. He’d somehow become responsible for fourteen children regardless.
most people never even get a single high school rival by sulfate (iwaoi, 5217 words)
Team Argentina gets to know Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer.
Through a Mother's Eyes by aunnoo (iwaoi, 2427 words)
You might've only given birth to one, but you get to watch two grow. They are your boys. (If there's anything you'd wish upon them, it'd be happiness.)
silver fork by ratboyrussell (seijoh genfic, 2774 words)
Teammates, friends, family: those who help out when needed.
AUs
The Whole Of The Moon by IetjeSiobhan (kuroken, 9253 words)
Tetsurou has never thought about it before, but right now, he is absolutely and thoroughly terrified. Because he’s so, so in love, and he’s always known that Kenma is it for him, but what if he’s not it for Kenma?
just hear me out by loveclouds (iwaoi, 7679 words)
Iwaizumi's beeper has been going off for Oikawa since they've been kids. Oikawa's has only ever been silent.
other favorites
"Blankets" - Feb 2020 Prompts by hightopboots (kuroshou, 1472 words)
There's a blizzard, Kuroo and Daishou are stuck in a cabin together.
bad days and stomach pains by kittykawas (iwaizuumi & matsukawa genfic, 3705 words)
Iwaizumi isn’t one for dramatics, generally. He tends to be straight forward and pragmatic and he doesn’t like to catastrophize - not when Oikawa is right there catastrophizing enough for a small country - but sometimes, life gets the better of him. He has bad days. And today is a terrible, horrible, fucking bullshit day.
Comfortable by queerjab (bokuroo, 3108 words)
“Dude,” Kuroo covered his eyes with one hand, feeling how red his face was getting. “I promise you cannot help with this.” “Well how would I know? You won’t tell me!” “I started my fucking period!” Kuroo exclaimed, instantly regretting the admission. “Fuck,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes covered to avoid any further embarrassment. He’d never wanted so badly to sink into the floor. “Oh,” Bokuto breathed, and Kuroo considered slapping him. “Is that all?”
can we always be this close (forever and ever?) by lunarumbra (sakuatsu/osasuna, 3128 words)
Or: Sakusa visits Onigiri Miya one night to talk about weddings and rings.
The years shall run like rabbits by ladyoflalaland (ushiten, 7292 words)
Or, Ushijima Akemi watches her son’s relationship with Tendou change over the years and finds herself changing with it.  
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gildedmuse · 1 year
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So, I just know all of Tumblr was wondering, "hey, you remember that really weird ZoLaw fan with the annoyingly overly stylized post? I wonder if she's seen this and if she has any theories or thoughts, an observation or two?"
Well, allow me to set your wandering mind at ease, fictional Tumblr fan. The answer is: No. No, I really don't.
I have like three hundred.
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[I also spent time just trying to track down as many translations as possible. Is Tera A Criminal's Daughter or The Daughter Of Thieving Bandits! These are CLEARLY separate things and can ENTIRELY change how her utter nonpresence in Zoro's life shaped him! Though I can take comfort in knowing that, regardless of what kind of crimes her father was committing they were more important than anything his daughter ever did in her entire life.]
And, hey, as might as well jump right into that whole mess.
1. Wait, Zoro's mom is dead? Thank goodness, I was worried Oda forgot one!
(AKA: Stop. Murdering. Moms.)
I'll go first, I don't mind saying when I was wrong. True, in the past I may have suggested that the vast majority of female characters in One Piece come off as ever so slightly, "leaning into sexist tropes with unadulterated joy; it's the misogynistic tropes equivalent of a child running naked through a grocery store. It's right there, everyone sees it, yet people shut up and continue shopping in part because, well, these days you just expect most people to cover that junk! What would you even say? And if you DO speak up and call out the inappropriate, be prepared for blank stares and tantrums; but THEY don't mind! THEY don't think it's wrong! You're just being mean!"
More or less a direct quote.
However, I see now that I rushed to judgement and the reality of the situation is far more nuanced. With that in mind, I was just wondering if someone could help answer some of the questions I have.
Like: Why does Oda believe that it's illegal for (maternal) female characters to survive other character's backstories?
More importantly, why hasn't someone just reached out to explain the misconception!? It can't be that difficult. If nothing else, just have a lawyer or judge or other expert in censorship on hand. Or is the one of those cases where back in highschool his friends made something up and then kept pretending it was real to see if he'd believe you and not only did he fall for it, it took over 20 years before he learned that, what, no that's not illegal. That would be crazy if it were an actual law. Cause you know, after the first 10 years I think yeah you have to just lean into it. Pretend it's a creative decision on your part and definitely not because you were terrified of being sentenced to a slow and humiliating public death.
Just to be clear that's definitely what's up, right? I mean, I'm struggling to think of another reason....able excuse why a story that I really enjoy keeps playing the same old sexist tropes cards again and again to the point of absurdity. It would just help if I had a valid excus- explanation. I almost mistyped the word explanation.
....
....
So I imagine it went like.
"That's the third mangaka they've had to Publically Execute this week!"
"They've started taking this law way more serious lately."
"This one really deserved it though! I heard his main character has a mother in her late forties!"
"That does seem old to have your first child."
"No, he's the middle of three and 22 years old. The story even has flashbacks of defining moments in his childhood and never once did she try to sacrifice herself for him, get murdered by his enemies, or die in meaningless unrelated accidents."
"Damn, that's cold to be there for all the protagonist core moments and not die and help him develop and grow a character? They must have a very antagonistic relationship. Is she actually the villain."
"Not that we know, and when they asked about this being a possible plot twist since - obviously if she's evil no laws are being broken."
"Well, of course, that's the whole reason Statue 2-dash-57 exists; if creators can show they have consistently been building up to a surprise twist then the female character in question can continue to live so long as she continues to be unrepentant and unlikable until the resolution of her arch by the protagonist."
"That's the thing! Under oath not only did man present no evidence to support her identity as a secret villain, he went on the record stating he wanted to depict their relationship as one of a normal modern 20 year old and his mother."
"That can't be true! What publishing company would even print that!?"
"It gets worse. I told you he was a middle child? Well, according to those who've read the actual manga, his younger sister was really sick as a child."
"Oh, well, at least-"
"It was just a fish allergy. She's perfectly fine."
"Sometimes I feel this law is unnecessarily harsh but.... Then you hear stories like that, and you realize that some people really are monsters."
#So this was going to be one post three parts (because obviously) then I remembered even people who have purposefully followed me hate that#I took into consideration that not everyone wants a unmountable wall of Zoro meta analysis on their dash so now its gonna be 3 post style#keeping in mind I've already written it all up and will just be posting them one after the other so effectively the same result#only with the illusion of my empathetic nature#I do have a lot of thoughts on what amounts to a very small amount of scribbled lines and a couple doodles#he literally didn't even bother giving Kuina's mom or grandmothers a name like they didn't even have a identity#In fairness there wasn't a need for them to have any kind of identities or individuality or identifiable features#everyone knows only one trait really matters when it comes to adult females: they go down#into the ground....as a corpse. After ensuring that their death would be the best way to help their children grow. As characters.#I'm joking cuz its funny. It's obvious why Zoro's mom got a name & description: she gave birth to a protagonist and not a human sacrifice#But have considered why those specific qualities are what he chose to define her by - she's fictional he could have made up anything!#I'll have to talk about it in the other posts I'm wasting precious tag room#one piece#roronoa zoro#one piece meta#one piece sexism#this post is not for everyone; actually its pretty much just for me#conversations with fictional people#more opinions than anyone asked for about subjects they don't even care about#Oh! I found the blogs new subtitle!#author gets sassy then preachy then sassy again and then swerves sharply to the weird#oh these tags are way too much#Zoro's backstory#Zoro family history#amusing musings#why am i the way that i am#three post style: part one!
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astute followers of the Wild and Wacky Adventures of Em the Jumped-Up Busker will note that i did not have anything unhinged to share yesterday. however this was not due to a lack of Moments. au contraire, there were simply so many Moments that i collapsed directly into bed and knocked out as soon as i returned to my apartment
ACT 1: the practice room
curtain opens. i am taking a break in a practice room about an hour before rehearsal (read: scrolling through tumblr) with the third movement of the bach concerto in a minor on the piano
am just about to give up on practicing and go eat my snack (makeshift charcuterie board comprised of prosciutto and cheese) somewhere on the ground floor when someone raps on the door.
i whip around, hastily burying the evidence (closed tumblr), to find my favorite honors professor/newest section member squinting in at me through the tiny window in the door
i open the door for her and tell her i was just about to leave to have a snack. she then goes ‘you can eat in here. i wanted to see what you were working on’, takes out her violin, and starts playing my solo rep better than i’ll ever play it
‘last time i played this was thirty years ago,’ she says to me, matter of fact
also mentions to me: ‘i saw the assistant principal viola in my class. got startled! they never talk to me…’
me: ‘i’m not really sure you realize that you’re kind of intimidating to people.’
ate honorsprofessor: ‘me? really?’
me: ‘yes! (somehow received some boldness in the moment) you even intimidate me, sometimes’
ate honorsprofessor, shooting me an affectionately exasperated look: ‘em, you would be intimidated by a mouse.’
I MEAN????????? WHAJAHWJWHAKAHAKWIWOAIOW?????????????? READ FOR FILTH???????
tl;dr 1: apparently got harana-d by ate honorsprofessor
ACT 2: rehearsal
tita conductor begins rehearsal by advertising the choirs’ concert the following week (she also directs them on top of the 1937017292820281 other things she’s been doing in the department for god knows how long)
pointedly finishes off with ‘and if any of you are ever interested in singing, let me know; i find that my instrumentalists who also sing bring a lot of knowledge with them, and it can do nothing but good for you here. i treasure my instrumentalist singers with my heart’
[harp noises to signal a flashback to the past][echoing voiceover from f1 journalist asking a question at the 2014 abu dhabi grand prix: ‘gentlemen, a short view back to the past…’]
in the google form for audition sign-ups we were asked to name any previous ensemble experience. not knowing that tita conductor also was in charge of the choirs, i put down my single year of high school choir as an alto 2
my (zoom) audition was. interesting. tita conductor thought i took my slow movement of the handel sonata in d major too slow. i tried to justify my tempo. until i realized i was contradicting an Authority Figure, immediately felt a wave of Asian Shame, shut my mouth, and instantly thought i had fucked my chances of getting a spot
at that point i just remember something clicking inside me, a feeling of serenity like nothing i had ever experienced before, and a voice telling me, ‘you’re not going to get it. just play.’
i was so dead set thinking that i’d screwed up that i was genuinely surprised that she offered me a spot—even more so when she immediately followed it up by beaming at me and saying ‘great! now would you like to sing for me?’
i spluttered at her for what felt like several hours before saying what i thought was ‘sorry, come again?’ but came out as ‘uh huh whuh?’
tita conductor: i have here that you’ve done choir :)
me: umm. i’m not really prepared for that… and i can only fit one ensemble into my schedule
tita conductor: oh. well, okay :(
[harp noises to signal a return to the present]
i very assiduously avoid eye contact.
other tita conductor rehearsal moments:
‘i am a very good human metronome’
[misjudges how much podium she has left and accidentally totters off of it while trying to cue] ‘oops, gone overboard!’
[screws up a few things in rapid succession] ‘ooh, i could have been much better at conducting that, sorry! (adds, sotto voce) it is very important for your conductor to admit when they’re wrong.’
‘Seconds!’ [we play a thing] ‘YES, seconds!’
ACT 3: rehearsal, the aftermath
as everyone clears up, principal viola approaches me to discuss a bowing for the brahms. assistant principal viola (one of my friends in orchestra) is also hanging around to watch
principal viola has discussed bowing with me once before, for the mendelssohn; their ideas are usually sensible and they seem more experienced than me (master’s student)
they propose that at rehearsal tempo (excessively slow) we take two bows in a phrase that usually takes one (i have been doing it on one bow even at the rehearsal tempo. because i slow down my bow.)
they also tell me that i have been cuing in with the first violins on a spot where we, in fact, do not come in with the first violins (i.e. a beat early). the latter of which i immediately write in, embarrassed.
ate honorsprofessor wanders up behind me as i discuss with principal viola, and as we continue to talk, tita conductor comes over, looks at what we’re doing, hurries off to grab her score, and puts herself between me and my stand, effectively putting me in a middle-aged woman sandwich
tita conductor: ‘i see my predecessor—and this is probably thirty years ago—has put bow markings in parentheticals breaking that into two, so i’m not sure…’
me: ‘oh, no that was me. i just wrote that in now.’
tita conductor: ‘oh. well… why?’
she hears out principal viola and says ‘could you not just… bow slower?’ LANWJWKWHWJS HELP???? but also yeah. i would just bow slower. it’s harder to unlearn bowings later on
ate honorsprofessor pipes up: ‘i like putting that whole phrase on an up bow instead of a down, so the next phrase comes lighter’ and demonstrates
i make a note of it (i still have not yet decided anything about that btw.)
principal viola: and also i was just saying that they come in with the firsts when they don’t
tita conductor: [silently points to the note i made in the margins that says ‘NOT with V.1’
me, panicking: ‘oh i wrote that in. just now.’
tita conductor: [turns back to look at me, smiling gently] ‘no, i’m saying it’s very good. it’s good to make a note of that.’
we wrap up our discussion and i begin heading back to my stuff
ate honorsprofessor is still fucking around with the third movement of the bach in a minor and teases as i approach ‘look what you did, em 🙄🙄🙄’
i get the distinct feeling i should play along and protest ‘excuse me!! what did i do!!’
ate honorsprofessor, playing right back: ‘oh you Know what you did!’
me: ‘i absolutely do not! i don’t know anything i’ve done since… october 2!’ (when i got offered the position)
ate honorsprofessor: ‘well, what about what you did january 11, huh?’
me, now genuinely confused: ‘wait, what happened january 11?’
ate honorsprofessor: ‘are you serious? honors 150. first day of class. when i met you.’
atehonorsprofessor then tells assistant principal viola about us playing the bach double together earlier this year
now you may be wondering, where is tita conductor throughout all this?
well, she was very interestedly examining the wall near the door to the early keyboards room, which opens off the rehearsal hall.
so, eavesdropping. as usual.
tl;dr 2: too many things had happened in the space of three hours and i was in no state to go to my last class of the day so i instead fed the assistant principal viola some of my beef stew and skipped class
if you managed to get to the bottom of this you deserve a prize idk.
i served yesterday btw.
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gilbirda · 2 years
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How to confuse a Bat
Part 4 of my Danny is an Arkham Security Guard AU (og tumblr post)
[Read on AO3][Read on FF.net]
<< Prequel - Can’t have shit in Gotham || Clown around and find out - Sequel >>
“So… Are we going to talk about it?”
Tim sipped a bit of his apple juice pack. “About what?” He answered Dick.
“The… The brother. Daniel.”
“If you are going to suggest adopting him into the family because of his physical features, I will stab you in the eye.” Damian didn’t even look up from his fruit snacks, the ones Alfred insisted they carry just in case the mission prolonged more than planned.
Which it did.
Since apparently they were waiting until the siblings finished their shift to ask the questions. Damian thought it was stupid - just kidnap the siblings, interrogate and get on with the investigation! There are things at risk more important than their jobs!
Stupid Father. Stupid Grayson. Agreeing with Todd was usually foolish, but this could prove to be a very bad decision.
“That would be super funny, but their parents are still alive.” Nightwing shrugged, but a tiny smirk stayed on his lips. “I was referring to the green glow? In the kid’s eyes?”
“He’s 24, not a kid.” Tim grumbled. He didn’t like being younger than someone called “kid”.
“Cranky because you are half the size I was at your age, huh.” Jason smirked behind the thermos with coffee Bats had brought when it was decided they’ll meet the siblings in the morning.
Despite having the option of sleeping until they were to meet the Fentons, neither thought they would be able to. They did their usual patrolling and when it was close to the meeting time they decided to regroup and set camp on the roof of the building the siblings lived at, eat some food Alfred prepared and rest for a bit. Duke stayed behind with Alfred at the Manor.
Only Steph was unironically happy when Dick said it has been a while since they went on a family picnic. 
“Green glowing eyes, anybody?” Dick decided to ignore the starting argument between Tim and Jason. 
“I agree that is very concerning, but,” Batman sighed, “I think extracting information about their parents is more important right now.”
“Jay?” The man turned from where he was about to pinch one of Tim’s cheeks. “Did you feel any weird vibes from Daniel? Anything from the Pit?”
Jason caught his little brother’s kick with one hand, pondering the question and ignoring the protest from Tim to let his foot go.
“Not really. I wasn’t exactly paying attention, you know?”
“Yeah, because you were talking about your daddy issues.” Steph elbowed Bruce, who refused to comment.
“Oh, shut up.” He pushed Tim away from him, who did a flip and landed safely on both feet. Cass clapped softly at the display. 
“Don’t feel ashamed, it’s more common than you think~.” Spoiler singsonged, dodging when the other man tried to punch her arm.
“Children.” Batman stopped the argument, secretly glad that they couldn’t see his slight blush or how his eyes had followed Jason since they met up earlier in the night.
“No, but really, that girl is amazing.” Dick munched on his sandwich, also looking at Jason. 
“Her skills could be polished, but she got the advantage over Todd.” Damian agreed.
“Is that a compliment or a backhanded insult to me?”
“I wasn’t talking about the gun - which we should definitely talk about how she got that thing past the controls at Arkham; I was thinking more about her therapist skills. And her ability to make Jay sit still at all.”
“Nobody told me to expect resistance. It won’t happen again.” Jason crossed his arms. He was still thinking about how Jasmine managed to get him in such a position and how his heart raced with fear for a hot second.
He hated feeling helpless.
“Cranky because you talked about your feelings?” Tim elbowed him, jumping back when Jason turned to glare at him.
“Maybe we should do that.” Nightwing finished his sandwich and looked wistfully at the starless sky.
“Talk about Jason’s feelings?”
“No,” he shook his head but didn’t look at Stephanie, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. “If this Jasmine girl is so good that everyone at Arkham loves her, maybe we should talk to her as well. About feelings.”
A few cringed at the thought, well aware that talking about feelings took a lot of work.
“That is if she’s not secretly a mad scientist.” Dick shrugged with a tiny smile.
It wasn’t long until they saw the siblings turn around the corner and walk quickly to their apartment. Their building wasn’t in the shady parts of Gotham, but still the city at night wasn’t a safe place.
“Hm.” Was all Batman said to the group before all of them, one by one, jumped down the fire escape stairs and into the correct window.
Of course, they waited inside the living room with the lights off. They had to play the dramatics and the intimidation tactics. It was Bat-theory 101.
“Huh.” Was all the reaction they got from Danny, who didn’t look surprised to find them there after flipping the light switch. His sister, on the other hand, took a moment to adjust to the sudden light and then smiled brightly at the intruders.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist. 
Daniel side eyed her. “You are a weirdo.”
“I am passionate, that’s different.” She ruffled his hair. “And look who’s talking, you weirdo.”
The young man rolled his eyes and closed the door, dropped his bag and hung the jacket, all without even glancing at the full set of super heroes in his apartment. Jasmine followed suit, but she constantly looked at the others with a tiny smile.
“Ok!” She finally addressed them. “We said we’ll talk and now let’s talk. I need my beauty sleep.” She dragged her brother closer to the heroes.
The bats looked at each other for a moment before Batman stepped forward.
“Did you know your parents have independent contracts with the government?”
“Yes.” Jasmine nodded carefully. She wasn’t lying, but she didn’t know where this was going. “They usually sell their inventions or patent them. Science isn’t cheap and even if we don’t agree with it, it’s money and it brings food to the table.”
Daniel snorted but didn’t comment further on it.
“Do you keep in touch with your parents?”
They tensed a little, but recovered quickly.
“No.” Daniel didn’t add further comment.
“Our parents… We still call sometimes, but after we moved out from home…” She looked down. She wasn’t lying here either, but there was more she wasn’t saying.
“Have they mentioned something lately? Any kind of new contract? Anything about an ex-government division?”
“What did they do now?” Daniel closed his eyes and sighed, looking resigned.
Bruce was hesitant for a moment. So far the Fenton siblings were cooperative, a bit withdrawn, but it was understandable. 
“Are you familiar with the name ‘Ghost Inv-’”
“The fucking Guys in White?” Daniel's lips curled at the name. “What did theydo now?”
“Daniel-”
“Danny, please.” 
Batman nodded slowly. “It has come to our attention that Jackson and Madeline Fenton have long term contracts with the GIW,” he searched Danny’s face. It didn't change expressions, so he knew about these contracts, “as well as their collaboration and expert opinion on some experiments.”
This was the key word. Danny and Jasmine froze. She had been drifting a bit from the conversation and let her brother deal with it as she admired the costumed guests, but she snapped back into attention as Bruce said the last word.
“What?” She asked.
“Experim-”
“We heard you the first time.” Danny narrowed his eyes. “What kind of experiments?”
“The kind you don’t want to know.” 
“No…” Jasmine’s legs failed her and she let herself fall into the couch. 
Her brother put a hand on her shoulder in support. “We knew this would happen eventually.” 
“I hoped to be there and stop it.”
“I hoped they kept the experimentation at home.”
“So you knew this was happening?” Bruce really didn’t want to arrest these individuals. He liked them. Jasmine had been very nice to his son and handled Jason like no one else could. 
“It’s… complicated.” Daniel… Danny made a face. “Our parents believe that ghosts can’t feel pain.”
There was a moment of silence.
“You said ‘ghosts’. As in-”
“Specters, apparitions, phantasms.” Danny interrupted Tim, making a gesture with his hand. “Keep up.”
“But ghosts don’t exist.”
“Ha! Wouldn’t that be nice?” Danny threw at Red Robin, the hand on his sister rubbing circles on her back. “Also, haven't you guys dealt with the paranormal before?”
“Unfortunately.” He conceded with a shrug.
“So you’re saying that the person we saw in the video was a ghost?” Batman stepped in before the argument could go further.
“Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes as he noticed Batman and a few behind him relaxed their stance a little. “Would that make it better for you? Make it easier to ignore?”
“Danny.” Jasmine said as a warning.
“No no, please, by all means, answer my question. Do you believe that because it is a ghost it’s okay to be experimented on? To be cut open and have your guts thrown around as you watch them do unspeakable things, feeling every second of it?”
All of them saw it. His eyes, which had been a cool and crystalline blue, were now glowing and green. Lazarus Pit green, like Jason's were shortly after being revived.
But Danny didn’t look consumed by the rage. He was angry, tense, and ready to fight - but his breathing was calm and controlled and the hand on his sister’s back was still there, seeking physical contact.
“Calm down. It was just a question.” 
“Then answer me. It’s also ‘just a question’.”
Bruce lifted his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. It worked just a little. “No. It doesn’t matter which species someone is - if they have life or consciousness, they don’t deserve to suffer.”
Danny blinked and his eyes were back to blue, but he still was tense. 
“So all these weapons and their work with the GIW…?”
“Yes, it’s to hunt and destroy ghosts.” Now it was the brother who let himself fall on the couch. “Our parent’s lives work.” His mouth twisted in disgust.
“And you don’t agree.”
“Of course we don’t fucking agree! Why would we, when -” He stopped himself. Hm.
Jasmine jumped in, taking one of Danny’s hands and squeezing it. “Our parents… They are really obsessed with ghosts. It is their whole lives! Everything they do, everything they make… it’s to capture, experiment on or kill ghosts.”
Bruce didn’t think he was the only one that caught the pained look in the young woman’s eyes as she said this. He wouldn’t be surprised if the siblings came from a neglectful childhood.
“While it doesn’t surprise us to see them work with the GIW, we didn’t believe they would go through with it. We had many big fights, around the time Danny and I moved out, about this topic. To make them see that it was wrong, that they should stop.”
“They are beyond help, Jazz. I told you. I told you.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“You are not going to do anything.” Batman’s tone was final. “If you could tell us everything you know, we can-”
“No.” Danny’s eyes were green again as he looked up.
“No?” Nightwing tried really hard to not project how tense he felt.
“No. This is our problem. The GIW, our parents. The ghosts.”
“No offense, but you don’t have the means to deal with a problem like this.” Tim’s tone was controlled, but it let pass some of the judgemental disbelief. The siblings were smart, and probably trained, but they were still just a doctor and a prison guard. 
“Full offense, but you don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.” The young man jumped to his feet, glaring with those unnatural glowing eyes. The lights in the apartment flickered for a moment.
Jason put a hand on his gun, ready to step in. Tim stepped forwards, eyes fixed on Danny’s.
“Ok, let’s stop.” Nightwing put a hand over his little brothers’ stomachs. Jazz took the chance and did the same with Danny.
“Danny. Your eyes.” She whispered, but they could hear perfectly in such a small room. So she is aware of what is going on with him.
Whatever Danny did to make his eyes stop glowing Jason could feel it this time, now that he was paying attention. The Pit inside of him echoed, withdrawing on itself, closing and closing until he could barely feel it. His mouth tasted like copper for some reason, as if some kind of memory.
He gasped.
“Hood?” Someone asked, but he couldn’t really say who. His attention was fully on the kid (not a kid , not a kid, his mind urgently told him) and how all hostility left him as they looked at each other.
Jason felt unnervingly seen, even with the covering helmet and the mask beneath. Danny, whatever or whoever he was, could see into his own soul. He was sure of it. It didn’t matter how.
“What the fuck was that?” he muttered, finally.
“You are not Dead,” Danny tilted his head, “but you are not one of the Living. What are you?”
Before Jason could say anything, Batman stepped between them, his dark and towering figure acting as a wall between them. Nobody dared to even breathe.
“What are you ?” Bruce used the voice. He was scared.
“Danny.” Jasmine took her brother by the shoulder to turn his body around and make him look at her. “I think they can help.”
Danny snorted. “How?”
“Batman has resources we don’t. The Justice League-”
“No.”
“Daniel-”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Danny, technically, we could appeal the Metahuman Rights Acts-”
“And technically I shouldn’t exist.”
“This could be our only chance!”
“Or they could make the situation worse!”
“Excuse me?” Steph lifted a hand, trying to follow the argument. The siblings turned to look at her at the same time. “How are you guys involved, exactly? I mean, they are doing really bad things to ghosts, but shouldn’t ghosts take care of it? Do they have someone that deals with these things?”
The question was good. After all, why did the siblings care so much for the ghosts? Sure they didn’t believe in their parents’ ideals, but still, if it was that big of a deal why did they consider themselves the only ones who could stop it?
“Oh yeah, the ghosts have someone working on it-”
“Danny…”
“- Me.” He said with the widest grin, and for a moment it looked like it had too many teeth, way sharper than they needed to be.
Jazz put her head in her hands, hiding the groan.
“Jazzy-pants, they are only going to get in the way with the detective-ing. Better rip that bandaid off right now.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her mouth turned down a little. “And I can see your point.”
“But?”
“The last time we barely made it, Danny. You can’t be everywhere all the time -”
“I told you I was working on it.”
“- and the GIW must have upped the security, especially if they are working with mom and dad.” She continued, ignoring him. And ignoring the bats as if they weren’t even there. “Sam and Tucker-”
“Leave them out of this.”
Jazz’s expression was pained. “Without their support our chances of success are lower.”
“I’ve trained since.”
“So did I! But it is not enough and you know it.”
The siblings glared at each other, waiting for the other to yield first. 
Batman didn’t dare breathe, absolutely sure that if they remembered the bats were still here they would stop the argument - and stop giving them so much information.
"No Justice League." It took a moment to register that Danny was talking to them, probably because he was still looking at his sister's eyes. "If they get involved we walk away forever."
Batman really wanted to fight it - try to make them see that with a problem like this they didn't have a chance without help. Maybe insist that they were civilians, and use the usual spiel about them being their responsibility now.
But he couldn't find the breath to speak. Was it how Danny tensed, as if either option was equally disturbing? Or how Jasmine - Jazz - had a defeated air around her?
He had no doubt that if the siblings wanted to disappear, not even a god would be able to find them. There was just something about them, something inhuman and plainly other, that he was sure that they didn’t throw empty threats around.
"Maybe we should start over again. No Justice League, no threats, everybody calm." Dick was really trying.
"And no lying?" Jazz answered him, but her eyes were fixed on Danny's, as if asking for permission.
This was it. They were going to finally explain what was going on with them.
Danny nodded. "No lying." He finally looked at the bats in their living room, the sunrise coming from the window stealing away the mysterious aura around them. "You can lose the furry suits, guys. It's not the same effect under the sunlight."
Before they could protest at the comment, Jazz turned with an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry, we know who you are. We’ve known for a while now.”
"And before you get all paranoid, we are not going to do shit about it." Danny turned as well, eyes narrowed. "We sure know the importance of a secret identity."
There was a moment of silence.
“We will meet again tonight. If you really know who we are, come find the Cave.”
“Hell no! I’ve got to work!”
“I didn’t know that ghost-adjacent champions needed to work?” Steph said, tired with the evasiveness of the siblings and really wanting to go home.
Danny crossed his arms. “Rent won’t pay itself. And I really like my job and would like to keep it, thank you very much.”
As he moved, Jason’s eyes noticed the scars that crept up his sleeve, an intricate zig zag of overlapping scars that mapped a rough landscape in what was once, probably, soft skin.
He didn’t need to be a detective to know what those meant. Danny was trained, dangerous and had glowing green eyes - that he was a warrior of some kind was not the question. 
Instead, he wondered if he had paid the price of Justice, and how much it cost him.
***
Many hours later, after suffering their respective day job/school with little to no sleep - they teased Danny about having to work, but they had to maintain appearances too -, the night found Bruce, Tim and Alfred going through Jason’s footage at Arkham, as well as all the information on the siblings and the town they came from, Amity Park.
Now that they knew that Jasmine was not dangerous-
(“Not dangerous? She pointed a gun to my face!”)
- they could focus on the brother. They had dismissed him since on record there wasn’t anything of notice from him. Didn’t pursue education after highschool, no criminal records, not even a hospital visit; which was weird, since whatever reason that made Danny’s eyes glow shouldn’t be normal, or healthy.
Just in case they checked the Lazarus Pit activity. Any reported League operations, suspicious behavior from Ra’s, any connection to something that was related to death and made your eyes glow green.
“Dunno, maybe there’s something in the water from where they are from.” Jason had commented when the search proved fruitless and he got bored of it.
“That’s it!” Tim shouted as he picked up his tablet, furiously typing something on the screen and laughing when he did. He turned the tablet to show what he found, seconds before Jason opened his mouth to ask if he was okay in the head. “‘Local superhero Inviso-Bill saves the day!’” He read the headline of the newspaper showing on the screen.
“Superhero?” Bruce commented, but his mind was fixated on the blurry photo of a figure flying away from the scene.
“Great, more supers.” Jason groaned from the table where he was reading to pass the time until the siblings showed up - or not, some of them had the theory that the Fentons packed up and ran to deal with their parents on their own.
Not that Jason would blame them, but running into danger without backup to deal with estranged parents wasn’t exactly a smart move. Zero stars out of five. Wouldn’t recommend it.
“What kind of name is Inviso-bill?”
“The kind that bad press gives you,” a new voice echoed in the cave behind them. “Not very intimidating. I know.”
Batman turned, one hand ready on his belt… that wasn’t there. Because he was wearing his civilian clothes. Heart racing, he glanced at Alfred, who nodded and tried to sneak towards a filing cabinet that disguised batarangs.
“Dude, calm down. We wouldn‘t want you to have a heart attack now.” Danny relaxed his body on purpose, lifting his hands with his palms forward, trying to be as least threatening as possible.
“How?” Was the only thing Bruce could say.
This took Danny by surprise. “You haven’t figured it out yet? I thought you were the world’s greatest detective.”
“Self proclaimed.” Jason nodded in greeting at Jazz when she walked from behind her brother. The other waved with a wide smile.
“Hey, B?” 
Bruce looks at Tim, who was showing him a picture on his tablet - a clearer photo of Amity Park’s own superhero, Danny Phantom. His eyes went back to the Arkham Guard, Danny Fenton.
Phantom in the picture was younger, more fresh, with a big smile on his face. And of course the white hair and the green eyes.
Danny was burned out and tired, with dark bags under his dull blue eyes that were brimming with shadows full of secrets, adding years to his expression.
“You are a superhero.”
Jazz made a face, but didn’t comment. Danny rolled his eyes.
“No. I am definitely not. I’m just a Security Guard at Arkham.”
“You were a superhero.” Bruce tried again. Danny didn’t say anything but the answer was obvious. “What happened?”
He knew it had been a bad move when Danny narrowed his eyes, the green creeping back into the blue, his lips curled into a silent growl.
“So… Do you have more-” Jasmine tried to move on with the conversation, stepping around her brother.
“Father! We heard the alarms and came as fast as-!” Damian came down running to the Cave, katana in hand, screeching to a halt when he saw the siblings.
“What’s going - woah!” Duke froze behind the child. He blinked a few times, eyes fixed on Danny. “Bruce? Is this… the guy?”
The guy, Danny said under his breath, amused.
“Duke, this is Danny. And his sister, Jasmine.” Bruce made a gesture, apparently accepting that this was happening. 
But Duke only frowned and blinked, his lips pressed in thought.
“Something wrong?”
Duke tried to sound reassuring but his voice wavered a little. “He doesn’t look human.” A few seconds later he realized what he said and tried to backtrack. “I mean, there’s this weird vibe around him…”
“Don’t worry, I’m not offended. I’m not human.” Everybody saw Jazz tense as Danny said this with a calm smile. “Just out of curiosity, what can you see? I wondered what the only meta from the bat-clan would see in me.”
The hero used the moment it took to walk down the rest of the steps towards the batcomputer, where everyone was gathered, to think his words carefully. What he saw wasn’t easy to describe.
“It’s like… two pictures overlapping. Like these manipulated vintage ghost photos? But the… aura moves even when you're not moving. It’s weird. Are you… possessed or something?”
Danny turned towards his sister with a big smile. “Did you hear that, Jazz? I look like a ghost.”
She rolled her eyes, laughing at some kind of inner joke. 
Damian opened his mouth, ready to protest and bring attention back to the fact that two total strangers somehow got into one of the most secret and protected places on Earth, when alarms started blasting from the computer. 
Danny gasped, making a pained face.
“Danny?” Jazz asked, one hand on her brother’s shoulder. They weren’t looking at the Bats on the computer.
“I can’t believe this.” He murmured. “He actually did it.”
“What?” Tim asked, trying to pay attention to both the siblings and Bruce at the computer.
“Joker has escaped Arkham.” The man declared, drowning whatever Danny was saying to Jasmine.
“Of course.” Jason rolled his eyes. He sighed, jumping down the table and turning his head to crack his neck. “Let’s get going.”
“No.” Did Danny time his words with the moment the alarms stopped? If so, he would fit perfectly with the Bats’ dramatics. At least in Jason’s opinion. “He’s mine.”
The silence in the Cave was only broken by a group of bats flying away, as if they felt the air getting heavier.
“He’s dangerous.” Bruce tried to word it like it wasn’t an order for him to stay put. It didn’t work.
“Funny. So am I.” Danny did that smile that didn’t fit quite right in his face, eyes turning green and glowing even under the bright computer screens. 
Jason saw his body tense, ready to run, and stepped in to stop him before Danny made a mistake. Green eyes turned to stare at him, once again the Pit doing flips and recognizing whatever Danny was. This time instead of calming it was terrifying, paralyzing, searching into his soul and pulling, evoking sensations he thought he wouldn’t feel again. Pure terror. Screams. Hopelessness.
Darkness gathered from the corners of the Cave, a strange freezing wind circling around them. For a moment Jason could almost see white strands in Danny’s hair when the breeze lifted it out of his face.
“You can come to the party if you want. But the clown is mine.” Danny winked as if they weren’t watching him with various panicked expressions, and did finger guns at his sister. “Be right back.”
He stepped back and disappeared.
<< Prequel - Can’t have shit in Gotham || Clown around and find out - Sequel >>
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pearynice · 6 months
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✨Fic Recommendations✨
So I've never really posted anything like this before but I just read some truly amazing fics that I feel like do NOT have enough kudos so I have to scream about them here, and I always love hearing what other people are reading so I thought I'd shout into the void too.
TLDR;
As The World Falls Down
you must have known for a long time (the shape of things to come)
Such An Oversight As To Rank As Egregious
Summaries and my comments below the cut (:
As The World Falls Down by daeneryske on Ao3 - 244k words
Summary: After saving Eddie from the Upside Down, Steve hides him at his house while the party concocts a plot to clear Eddie's name. What Steve doesn't expect is how much he likes hanging out with Eddie as they get to know each other.
Under the looming shadow of the Mind Flayer threatening to destroy Hawkins, Steve and Eddie realize they're each grappling with their own darkness, from Steve's father's impossible expectations to Eddie's feelings of worthlessness.
Their friendship develops into something more even as the party prepares to fight Vecna and his monsters one last time. Steve must decide if he's ready to shrug off the rigid roles assigned to him and become his own person. Eddie must learn to embrace what Steve has been trying to show him every day since nearly dying: that he's worth saving.
Y'all. I just finished this fic and... it truly left me speechless. It's so beautiful. I cannot overstate how much I loved this fic. If you need a good, long fic to sink your teeth into, please, please read this! It's tagged as slow burn but for the length of this fic Eddie and Steve are together for like... 80% of it. Just being fucking cute and in love while they deal with what life throws at them. Reading the development of their relationship was truly so special. I selfishly wish the author had more writing on Ao3 for me to read!
you must have known for a long time (the shape of things to come) - by brakers91 on Ao3 - 31k words
Summary: “Tower two?” Steve’s uncertain voice crackled through the radio. “You there, man?”
Eddie held down the button, opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again and released the button. He did it two more times. Shit! Steve would surely recognize his name. That was the last thing he needed.
He made a split-second decision and pressed the button to talk. “Yea, yea, I’m here. Sorry. Uh, bee got in. I was trying to get it out the window. I’m, um- Eddie Makowski.” His intonation raised at the last syllable like he was asking a question. He cringed. Hoped Steve didn’t notice it.
There was a long silence. Then, “Makowski, huh? Ok. Um, nice to meet you then, Eddie Makowski.”
or: Eddie gets a summer job, not knowing Steve will be his only coworker. They fall in love over the radio waves.
Soooo this fic actually made me cry. At work. My boss was very uncomfortable. Steve is just so soft with (traumatized) Eddie and he's just so kind and understanding and I think I've read it at least twice because it just feels like a gigantic, warm hug.
Such An Oversight As To Rank As Egregious - by hitlikehammers on Ao3 (they are also on tumblr! @hitlikehammers) 6k words
Summary: “I fucked up.”
Wayne takes a seat in his recliner but leans forward, full attention. It’s not that he wholly doubts that his nephew could, maybe very well has fucked up, he just highly doubts that’s not a particularly dramatic and probably inaccurate way of phrasing it.
Also? If Wayne’s picked up anything about the relationship Eddie’s built over more than a year, now, it’s that it’s one of odd but undeniable equals. Adults, who squabble and shout and sometimes storm out but usually only because they recognize the need to step away, take some air. Adults who disagree, sometimes in big loud ways, but still don’t spend their nights alone.
Almost ever.
So: whatever the fuck up is? Wayne’s…just not too concerned.
“How’s that?”
Eddie’s eyes flick up from what he’s reading, not even scared. More…ashamed.
Devastated, and ashamed.
So Wayne pays extra close attention when Eddie shakes his reading material, oh: a calendar. The calendar. With all the anniversaries on every goddamn day.
Eddie tosses the calendar on the table and moans, despondent:
“I missed one.”
So I have 100% loved everything I have ever read by this author. It's all just so beautiful, but if I HAD to pick a favorite... it would be this one. I love Wayne SO MUCH in this fic it almost killed me. So you should read all of them, but especially this one.
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