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aerynwrites · 6 months

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Emeralds

Dammon x GN!Reader

A/N: yet another fictional character has invaded my brain lmao. So here’s a little fluffy piece I wrote for Dammon by I love him and wish I could romance him.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Love confessions, fluff, so much fluff, kissing, drinking (neither of them are drunk tho), required love.

Part 2

The party is in full swing, the tieflings having brought the wine and the music and so much more to your camp this evening.

You watch from the sidelines as your companions enjoy the evening in different ways. Shadowheart and Astarion have been keeping to themselves despite your encouragement to participate. Karlach and Wyll are dancing and laughing by the fire, and even Gale is letting loose for once - showing off some small magic tricks to a group of tieflings.

You’d talked to Halsin and Zevlor, both of them thanking you before wandering off to talk to other or take part in the festivities themselves. Leaving you to your own devices.

Which…isn’t much at the moment.

While you enjoy watching the others, you can’t help but search the small crowds for a particular blacksmith.

You’d met Dammon when you arrived at the grove, and you’re slightly ashamed to admit that you developed a crush on the man from the moment you laid eyes on him.

He’s handsome and kind to boot, going out of his way to help Karlach when so many other things were going on for him and his people. He even promised to help again in the future if he was able.

How could you not pine after him?

Your feelings had led you to spend more time than necessary at the grove, claiming to need so trade supplies or talk to someone or another just to see or talk with Dammon while you were there. Your companions got so tired of it you had to start slipping away on your own, not that you minded.

Dammon always seems happy to see you, talking to you about anything and everything. Just a few days ago he mentioned he was working on something special for you, insisting it was a surprise when you pressed him for more details.

You’d hoped to see him here at camp with the rest of the refugees, but as the night wears on, your hope dwindles.

Perhaps he had so much work preparing for their departure to step away from his forge. It’s a reason you’d understand, but the pang of disappointment doesn’t hurt any less.

You’re just about to give up looking, when you finally spot a flash of a familiar green scarf among the milling bodies.

Dammon makes his way through the camp, nodding in greeting to those he passes before he finally looks to you, eyes shining as his lips tilt upwards.

He offers you a small wave as he makes his way towards you and you return the gesture, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks as he approaches.

“Hi,” you offer simply, now lost for words that he’s standing before you.

Dammon smiles, “Hello,” he says, turning to face the party in front of you both. “I was worried I wasn’t going to make it in time.”

“I have to admit,” you begin, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “I was looking for you,” you tell him, “I was disappointed when I didn’t see you.”

Dammon turns to look at you again, brows raised in slight surprise. “You were looking for me?”

Your eyes fall to the ground, embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Yes I…” you trail off for a moment before turning to look at him again, changing the subject instead. “What kept you so late at the forge?”

Dammon studies you for a moment, as if judging your demeanor before his eyes leave yours as his hand falls to the small pack at his side.

“I was finishing up your gift,” he tells you, patting the bag. “Couldn’t let myself leave without giving it to you.”

At the mention of you both parting ways soon, you feel yourself deflate slightly. But before you can let disappointment take over what’s supposed to be a night of celebration, you jab a thumb over towards the far end of camp.

“How about a toast to go along with the surprise?” You ask, silently hoping your proposition doesn’t come off as odd. “I have some wine back at my tent, admittedly a little better than what’s been provided…”

Dammon laughs at that, lips pulled back into a grin. “I will have to admit my brothers and sisters are not known for their wine making…” he gestures towards you. “Lead the way.”

Your tent is on the edge of camp, further away from the others and thus away from the center of the celebration. You can still hear the music and raucous laughter, but it’s slightly muted by the distance.

You retrieve the wine and two cups from inside your tent before taking a seat on one of the pillows laying near the entrance, inviting Dammon to do the same.

“Sit,” you gesture to a pillow near your own, “I’m sure you’ve been on your feet all day, if I know anything about you.”

Dammon huffs out a chuckle as he nods, setting his bag on the ground beside him before he takes a seat next to you. “Then you know me well,” he affirms, “The work never stops it seems.”

You try to ignore how close he is as you pour two glasses of rich red wine and hand one to him before taking a sip of your own. “Hm…Yet here you are. Can a gift be so important to take you from your work?”

You watch as Dammon flushes, his cheeks turning just a few shades darker as he stares into his wine glass.

“This one is,” He says simply, before looking up to you. “It’s for you.”

His words are so simple, so plain, yet you can hear the sincerity in them. For a moment you’re worried you’re hearing what you want to hear, seeing what you want to see. But Dammon interrupts your thoughts as he sets his glass down carefully to reach into his bag.

He produces a small long object wrapped in cloth and tied shut. Dammon starts to speak as he unties the string.

“I don’t know if it’s your preferred weapon,” he says, pulling at the edges of the cloth. “But the idea came to me and I couldn’t stop until it was completed.”

He fully unwraps the item to reveal a beautifully ornamented dagger. It’s handle is wrapped in fine dark leather, the blade sparkling dangerously in the moonlight.

The parts of the pommel visible outside the leather are inlaid with small green stones. You reach out to touch them, but pause glancing up at the blacksmith in question.

He smiles, nodding. “Please, it’s yours after all.”

You take the dagger from his open hands, surprised to find that it fits perfectly in your hand. The grip isn’t too large or too small. It isn’t too long or short. It fits your hand down to the very last detail. The leather is soft in your palm, well worn but sturdy. You test the blade in your hand flipping it in the air before catching it easily once more. It’s perfectly balanced as well.

Your eyes fall back to the precious green stones in the handle running your fingers over them to find them smooth beneath your calloused digits.

“Emeralds,” Damon says softly. “I chose them mainly because they added to the blade's appearance but I remember my grandmother once told me they represent strength, balance and…” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “It’s not important. I hope it’s to your liking.”

You gaze at him, your mind searching for any knowledge you may have of gemstones, when a memory snaps into place. A passage from a book your mother read to you in a jewelry shop.

“Look little love,” she said, finger tracing over lines of text in a thick book by the checkout counter. “It tells you of all the gems' meanings.”

She read off a few - sapphires for leadership and royalty, bloodstone for revitalization, jade for success and-

“Oh…look at Emerald!” She said happily. “‘Known as the stone of successful and abundant love, Emeralds open the heart to receive love in all aspects of life. They are thought to encourage you to give and receive love..” your mother awes, “That’s sweet.”

The memory leaves as quickly as it came, and you glance immediately up at Dammon, taking note of the hopeful look he gives you. As if you could ever be disappointed in anything he gave you.

You swallow around the swell of emotion in your throat, once again trying to shove down the bubble of hope in your chest as you nod. Looking down to the blade in your hand, thumbing the emeralds once more.

“It’s perfect, Dammon. It’s beautiful, I-“ you shake your head looking up to him again. “I can’t let you just give this to me. This probably cost a fortune in materials-“

Dammon holds a hand up to cut you off, giving his head a firm shake. “It’s a gift. For everything you’ve done for me - for us.”

It’s only now you fully notice how close your are to one another. Dammon’s leg brushes your own, his shoulder bumping yours. And each time he looks over at you, the faint sweetness of the wine on his breath brushes your cheek.

Once again your eyes fall down to the dagger, fingers trailing over the emeralds as you finally reveal your own knowledge on the gems.

“I remember a time when I was much younger,” you tell him, noticing he listens to you with rapt attention. “My mother took me shopping with her in the city and we went to this jewelry shop. We weren’t really looking to buy but she loved to look at all the jewels and gemstones.” You smile at the memory. “This particular jeweler had a book on display that listed all the names of the gems and what they mean and my mother read out about a dozen before landing on Emerald…” you trail off, catching the almost imperceptible hitch of breath in Dammon.

“It said Emerald was also the stone of ‘successful and abundant love’,” you say, finally finding the courage to look back at Dammon, finding his eyes already on you.

Your voice is a mere whisper now. “She said something about it opening the heart to give and receive love…” your words die on your tongue. “Was this truly only a gift of thanks?” You finally ask, hope burning so bright in your chest you have no chance of stamping it out now.

Dammon’s bright blue eyes only leave yours to flick down to your lips, and the moment he captures your gaze again his lips are on yours.

The kiss is a sweet, chaste thing, and you can sense his hesitance as he goes to pull away much too quickly. You manage to stop him as your free hand comes to rest on his shoulder pulling him closer as you return the kiss, telling him without words that you want this too.

Your heart soars when he responds in kind, turning so he’s facing you fully as his hands settle on your hips. You set the dagger down carefully in order to wrap your arms around his neck, afraid this might all be a dream if you don’t hold him close.

He only pulls away when you both need to take a breath and even then you don’t go far.

Dammon rests his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering open after a moment.

“Should I be ashamed to admit I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you?”

A small laugh escapes your lips and you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks. “No…because I feel the same way.”

He practically beams at your words, eyes lighting up as a grin splits his lips.

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

You chuckle again. “I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”

Dammon responds eagerly, capturing your lips once more as his arms wind sound at your waist. He raises up on his knees as he does so, pulling you to do the same and removing any space between your bodies as he kisses you with abandon.

You smile into the kiss when you feel his tail curl to wrap around your waist, as if he can’t get close enough.

Maybe you can’t either…because from this moment on you never want to be away from him.

You are the first to pull away this time, stroking the apple of his cheek gently as you press one last kiss to the corner of his lips.

You move to sit back on your knees, noticing how Dammon watches you in quiet curiosity as you reach for the delicate silver chain around your neck.

Your knowledge of gems isn’t the only thing you’d gotten in that jewelry shop all those years ago.

You pull the necklace from where it hides beneath your shirt, revealing a simple silver pendant with a glittering emerald in the center of it. You lift the chain over your head and hold it out towards Dammon.

He looks perplexed for a moment, before shaking his head. “You don’t have to give me something in return,” he says gently. “The dagger was a gift.”

You smile and nod to the necklace still in your hands. “And so is this. Here-“ you say leaning towards him more, “let me.”

Dammon finally acquiesces, eyes slipping closed as he ducks his head towards you.

You reach up and slip the necklace over his head, mindful of his horns, and watch as the pendant settles just below his green scarf. Your lips turn upwards as you run your fingers over the smooth stone.

“It even matches your scarf,” you say playfully, warmth filling your chest as Dammon reaches up to examine the necklace.

You pick up the dagger he gave you, admiring it again as you speak. “Now we both have something of each other. No matter where we end up.”

Dammon looks up at you then, eyes glittering with an emotion you can’t quite place, before he reaches out to take your hands in his own.

“I'm sure we’ll see each other again,” he says, resolve clear in his words.

And despite not knowing exactly where your journey will take you…

You have a feeling that he’s right.

#Dammon x reader #bg3 dammon x reaer #Bg3 dammon #bg3 x reader #dammon

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arieslost · 11 days

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pole! | ln4

summary: user arieslost got so excited about a lando pole that she wrote a blurb about it

word count: 774

masterlist — join my tag list here!

a wet track is no one’s dream, really.

it certainly isn’t yours, especially because you’re one of mclaren’s many supporters concerned about the layout of the shanghai circuit. the long turns and endless straights had you chewing your nails just looking at a picture of it, much less actually being there in the garage watching your boyfriend and his teammate during free practice 1— the only time they had to acclimate to the circuit before sprint qualifying.

as if that in itself wasn’t stressful enough, it starts raining during the qualifying session.

you know lando is good in the rain, really good even, but that knowledge doesn’t stop your heart from beating faster when it’s properly raining, everyone is slipping and sliding on the track, and lap times are being deleted left and right. which is why you have to restrain yourself from immediately celebrating when lando goes to the top of the time sheet, nearly 1.3 seconds clear of lewis hamilton, and gets on provisional pole.

“come on, come on,” you mutter to yourself, thumbnail between your teeth as you keep your eyes glued to the screen.

and, sure enough, his lap time is deleted for exceeding track limits at the final corner. you watch, crestfallen, as his name goes from first to the bottom. at any rate, you’re happy that someone other than red bull is on pole, but even seeing lando on the front row was exhilarating.

the time runs out on the session. you’re in the middle of letting out a long sigh, mentally preparing to comfort your boyfriend, who you’re sure is kicking himself already, when you happen to glance back at the tv at the exact moment his name shoots back up to p1.

“yeah baby!” you hear lando say over the radio in response to being told he’s officially on pole. “beautiful. simply beautiful.”

the rest of your sigh leaves your mouth, but instead of disappointment it’s complete and utter relief, a giddy laugh following right after. you’re always excited to see lando after he’s been in the car, but now you’re really excited.

you wait as patiently as you can while he talks to the media, and the moment his eyes meet yours you can tell that he’s having just as much trouble keeping his true excitement at bay.

you meet him halfway when he makes a beeline for the garage, letting out a quiet oof when his arms go around your waist and your feet leave the ground.

“fucking pole! holy shit, babe,” you laugh breathlessly in his ear when he sets you down and hugs you tight. “you scared me so bad.”

“you’re not the only one,” he replies, subtly kissing your temple before pulling you into the garage, away from the three cameras that have swiftly turned to face you both.

“p-freakin-one,” he says as soon as you’re both in the quiet safety of his drivers room.

“how does it feel?” you ask, taking a seat on the bed.

he leans against the closed door for a moment, a dreamlike smile on his face. “amazing. it always feels amazing.” he pauses. “almost forgot what it felt like, honestly.”

you hum. “hopefully it’s the first of many this season, hmm? i think you’ll win.”

“of course you do, baby.” he laughs, joining you on the bed.

“i’m serious!” you huff, bumping his shoulder with yours. “as long as it rains again. otherwise you’re cooked.”

lando’s jaw drops, and you press your lips together to poorly conceal a smirk. “all you ever do is hurt me,” he says dramatically, turning away from you.

“oh, come on,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your chin on his shoulder. “you and i both know that i have the utmost faith when it comes to you.”

“do you? do you really?” he asks, continuing with his little act.

“look at me,” you coo, turning his chin to face you.

even acting all mad, he still fixes you with such a loving look that you can feel yourself melting a little.

“i. love. you,” you say, punctuating each word with a short kiss on his lips. “and when you win tomorrow, you know exactly what i’ll say.”

“yeah, i know,” he tugs you into him, finally giving up on his act.

and so, when he wins, he’s perfectly in tandem with you when you scream, “i told you!” as he practically jumps across the barrier to get you in his arms.

lando norris. sprint winner. the love of your life, who would have been way less confident in himself if he didn’t have you.

note: i know i said i wasn’t posting this week but as it turns out, i am a liar. something something don’t blame me love made me crazy

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther

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7ndipity · 5 months

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Hey :) How are you doing?:) well?:3

Did you see Jimin's New hair cut/hair color? It suits him sooooo well!🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍

I was wondering something.... In every fics, no matter who's the member (of BTS), his parents always accept the reader while she's not even an Asian woman. And it doesn't seem realistic to me.

So, how do you think would happen if the member's parents don't accept their son to date a Western woman and they ask him to leave her? If they ask him to choose between her and them? Or if they told him they would never come to his wedding because he's not with an Asian woman?

Their Parents Don’t Approve Of Non-Asian S/o

Ot7 x Reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: Hi! I did see Chim’s new hair and I’m absolutely in love! I’m so curious to see what he’s working on!

Anyway, on to the request! This is something I’ve also wondered about a little actually, but it’s such a tricky situation, and something I don't have much knowledge/experience with, so I don’t know if these are any good, but I gave it a shot.

Masterlist

Requests are open °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: He’s well aware of what’s considered the norm and tradition, but he never thought that his parents would take such a serious stance about it. If he loves you and is comfortable with your cultural differences, then that should be enough for them. He would do his best to try and make them see that, even if it takes a while.

Yoongi: Yoongi’s had to go against his parents several times in the past in pursuit of his career, so I don’t think he would even consider breaking up with you. He’d call their bluff and give the same ultimatum back to them; if they want to continue to have a relationship with him, then they have to accept that you are a part of his life.

Hobi: Knowing how close he is with his family, I think he would be so devastated if they didn’t approve of you. It would rattle him to the point that the two of you might sit down and have a talk about your relationship, but that leaves him all the more certain that you’re meant for each other. He would fight very hard to get them to see you for you, and not where you're from.

Namjoon: Again, he’s had to go against what his parents thought was right for him in the past to pursue his passion, so he’d be more than prepared to do so again for his S/o, but that doesn’t make him any less disappointed in the situation, he thought they were more progressive than that. There’d be several talks with them and try to get them to come around slowly.

Jimin: Like Hobi, he’s so close with his family, it would absolutely break his heart if they didn’t approve of you. It might make him question your relationship for the briefest of seconds, but he genuinely can’t imagine his life without you, so he would have a long, serious talk with his parents and try to get them to realize how your nationality doesn’t matter.

Taehyung: He would honestly be so stunned and hurt if his parents said that they thought you shouldn’t be together, especially over something like your race/nationality. He definitely wouldn’t break up with you, but he might struggle a bit on how to proceed in order to try and get them to reconsider their way of thinking on this.

Jungkook: I think he would be so angry and confused by their reasoning. I mean, he’s not exactly a traditional person (tattoos, piercings, etc), why should your ethnicity/nationality make a difference to them? He doesn’t even entertain the thought of ending things with you, going immediately to your defense and doing his best to make them reconsider.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#bts reaction #bts reactions #bts requests #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts x y/n #bts x reader #seokjin scenarios #yoongi scenarios #hoseok scenarios #namjoon scenarios #jimin scenarios #taehyung scenarios #jungkook scenarios #7ndipity

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biblio-smia · 4 months

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Hiiii! Love your work! This is gonna be a lengthy I apologize in advance lol. Do you think you can pls do a tasm! x fashion designer reader? (I’m a fashion major lmaooo) Like where the reader has a big debit show coming up and Peter misses bc he’s out on his spiderly duties. The reader doesn’t know he’s Spider-Man. Very angsty then very fluffy. Love confessions. Thank you!!!!!!

thank you + thank you for the request!! i loveee this idea <3 also definitely watched barbie a fashion fairytale while writing this LMAO

masterlist | requests are open!

Emotions swirled in your chest - beginning with anxiety and just a touch of nausea.

Then came the elation - it was like the feeling when people praised you for your designs only intensified by about a thousand.

You'd spent hours on the pieces now being carried on the runway, survived on less hours of sleep than you'd thought possible, and worked through headaches you were positive where going to split your skull open. You'd pricked your fingers, created permanent callouses on your fingers, and probably caused irreversible damage to your back to make your patterns and ideas come to life. It was one thing to draw them out on paper and another to create them, altering them and scratching out ideas that had looked good on paper but had not ended up liked you'd imagines - and something completely different to see them on models, to watch the audience awe and clap for what you'd created.

Your heart pounded with each excited congratulations! and hug after the show had ended, still reeling a little from the experience. It'd been over so quickly for all the time you'd poured into the preparation and how long the show would take to clean up, but you were sure your work had made an impression that would outlive the night.

But as the crowd died down and people filed out, you stood, waiting, for the congratulations you'd been anticipating all night - the one that'd probably mattered the most to you.

But as the crowd thinned into only a few heads of people that had begun occupying themselves with cleaning up, so dispersed there was no way Peter could've possibly missed you, that's when the realization had set in.

Peter hadn't come.

Now, there was a new feeling a chest. Your heart hadn't stopped pounding, but now there was a pain accompanying it in your chest and a lump in your throat you were struggling to swallow down.

You turned when you heard your name called, not sure what you were expecting - it was only one of your colleagues, asking if you'd like to grab drinks to celebrate.

You teeter, almost let the idea persuade you, but ultimately decide against it with a small maybe next time! - because you're not really sure if you'd be able to hold the tears in if you got intoxicated.

Plus, a little piece of your heart holds out hope that maybe your boy would still show up - maybe he got pushed out by the crowd, or couldn't find you and decided to wait for you outside.

But as you stepped out into the dark night and looked around at the empty street, any last hope died.

The journey home created an ideal environment for your disappointment to brew into a strong, dark anger, scowl on your face sure to scare any strangers on the sidewalk off and away from you. You were nearing furious by the time you reached your door, shoving your keys into the lock and hurting your hands with the intensity you pulled them out with, cold metal painfully digging into your hot fingers.

Your anger didn't mellow as you turned your phone off, refusing to let Peter have any way to contact you - at least for tonight. You needed a few hours away from him. Maybe longer. You'd decide that later.

A shower tamed your flames, water burning you out and leaving behind something that craved only the soft comfort of your bed.

You'd only made it a few steps into your room when your ears perked at the sound of tapping at your window. Your eyes followed, trying to identify the source of the noise, and you jumped when you saw Peter on your fire escape.

If it hadn't been so cold out, you would've left him outside.

At least, that's what you told yourself afterwards.

But that searing rage had returned, warming your entire body and making you resistant to the cold air that blew in along with Peter the second you opened the window.

"Did you climb up here?" You spat out, immediately backing up and crossing your arms, scowl making its way on your face again.

Peter didn't need to look at you to feel your anger.

He'd been so close to making it this time - but, like always, something had come up. That'd been his excuse so many times, to so many people, it was starting to become pathetic even to Peter. He'd paced for close to an hour, biting the inside of his cheek raw while wondering how he was going to make it up to you. Peter knew how much this night had meant to you. He'd promised to be there, to support you and all the work you'd put in; the long hours you spent beside Peter, refusing to accept his help. The days where Peter had to force you away from your desk to have a break, all the snacks he'd made to fuel you and your beautiful brain.

And now, as Peter was so famous for doing, he blew it.

"W...what? Oh, yeah, I just-" Well, Peter had swung here, but he'd get around to explaining that. For now, he was more focused on trying to get his words out without stuttering pathetically. "I just- I needed to tell you something."

You stood, silent, arms crossed and eyes dark. Peter didn't need a translation to know you were telling him to spit it out.

Peter swallows thickly. He takes a deep breath. He forces himself to look straight into your eyes.

"I'm Spiderman." Peter goes the extra mile and tugs on the neckline of his shirt, revealing a sliver of the suit in case you don't believe him.

It's silent, which Peter begins to believe is the worst outcome with each second it drags on. You falter for just a few moments before your eyebrows furrow, somehow even angrier this time, because you, in all your hot anger, cannot bring yourself to fully process the information Peter has just thrown at you - or, frankly, care.

"So? You think that's just gonna fix everything?" You step closer to Peter, words like venom.

"I-"

"You what? You think I'm just gonna forgive you because you're Spiderman? Peter, you know how much this meant to me. And now you show up, hours after you're supposed to, telling me you're Spiderman?"

"Well, I brought these," Peter offers weakly, pulling a bouquet of flowers out of his bag. Crushed. Peter watches as a petal falls lamely to the ground.

"Impressive," you say so sarcastically it hurts, rolling your eyes with a sigh. "God, Peter, you are such a dick!"

Peter can sense you're about to send him out of that window flying, but he just can't leave before saying everything he needed to say.

"W-wait! Please, just hang on, I... I am so sorry," Peter starts, hands on your shoulders desperately. "I really am. Truly. I wanted to be there tonight, I tried so hard to be there, something got in the way... but that doesn't matter. I should've been there, or at least texted, or something, you're right, I'm sorry. And this," Peter motions to his chest. "is not an excuse, at all. I just wanted to tell the truth. I owe you at least that."

"Yeah, you owe a lot more than that," you scoff, shoving Peter's shoulder. It's not hard but Peter winces painfully in a way that fills you immediately with guilt. You roll up Peter's sleeve but see only a pattern of red and black. You look at him expectantly and he does his best to slide his arm out of his suit from under his shirt - all to reveal a nasty bruise, right where you'd hit him.

"Well, now I feel bad," you murmur, dragging Peter to your kitchen for some ice, trying not to think about how dangerous the things he got involved with as Spiderman probably were - how he'd clearly been doing something more important while missing the show.

"Don't," Peter insists, letting you sit him down and press ice against the bruise, focusing on not wincing. "I deserve it."

"You don't, Pete," you sigh, careful not to let your eyes wander to Peter's - it's hard, though, feeling him stare at you so woefully from your peripheral.

But you slip eventually, Peter catching your eyes before you can look away.

"I'm sorry," he says again, reaching for your hand slowly, tenderly, wondering if you'll let him.

You do.

"I know you are, Peter."

It's quiet for a few moments before you sigh, examining Peter's arm for any other bruises.

"It's just the one," Peter confirms, before asking shyly, "Kiss it better?"

You roll your eyes but you push Peter's sleeve up further, careful not to touch the bruise as you place your lips on the top of Peter's shoulder, right next to a small freckle.

"I meant here," Peter taps his lips with a smile.

"Don't push it." You move away from Peter and he stands, following you around as you stop at a cupboard and dig around until you find an empty vase. Peter watches silently as you fill it with water and wordlessly back into your room, where you pick up the flowers from where Peter had left them on your nightstand and place them carefully inside the vase.

"They were beautiful when I bought them," Peter mutters.

"They're still nice," you insist. "So," you begin, taking a seat on your bed. "Do I really want to hear the details about all the dangers Spiderman has faced?"

"Depends on how much you still hate me," Peter replies, opening up a drawer full of your sleep shirts, sure he'll find one (or a few) of his among them. He does, and he's quick to start pulling his clothes off. Unfortunately, Peter hasn't come up with a better way of getting his suit off just yet.

"Is watching people undress part of the job?" Peter asks with a grin, slipping his head through your (his) shirt.

"No, we usually watch them get dressed," you hum.

"So it's just me then?" Peter drops next to you on your bed, pulling your laptop from its place on your nightstand.

"Okay, you were the one who started taking your clothes off in front of me."

"You looked."

You rolled your eyes but you smiled as Peter pulled you into his side, balancing your laptop between the two of you. He's quick to pull up clips of the show and you're surprised to see it already online; you're also surprised to see the few hundreds of views already, considering it had only been a few hours since the show.

"Tell me everything," Peter insists, propping himself up to focus his attention back on you.

So you do.

Peter has always been a good listener when it came to you, captivated by the way you speak. He's told you before that he could listen to you talk about nothing for hours, but he makes an extra effort to really pay attention tonight. He asks questions about the show and about intricacies that he doesn't quite understand.

You can tell when you're beginning to lose him, at some point where you're talking about the different stitches you had to use to create a certain design on one of your pieces.

Some of it Peter has heard already, but he listens regardless. He's set the laptop aside now, fingers drawing figures on your arm as he hums and nods.

You've gotten to the end, where you casually mention the invitation for drinks you got. Peter frowns, head propped on his hand so you can see the severity of his pout.

"What would you have done then?" You ask curiously.

"Waited," Peter said like it was obvious.

"What if I stayed out all night?"

"Well then I would've had to break in," Peter grins.

"You're a nuisance."

"The person you've turned me into," Peter rolls onto you, pressing his head into your neck.

"I have a feeling you've always been like this."

"Maybe," Peter hums against your skin, pressing his lips into your skin.

"I haven't forgiven you yet. You're still a dick."

"I am," Peter agrees, pulling his head away to look at you, arms caging you in at your sides. "The worst. Call me Penis Parker."

You can't help but laugh at that one, which of course makes Peter grin.

"You still owe me," you say sternly, hands meeting at the back of Peter's neck, capturing him in a loose hold. "For, like, the rest of your life."

"I owe you," Peter nods quickly, pressing a kiss to the inside of your arm. "For the rest of my life. Just as long as you're in it."

Peter's voice goes quiet towards the end, implicating something you hadn't intended for originally. Peter notices how your eyes widen slightly and he bites his lip.

"Uh, well, I don't think this is really the best time to tell you, but... uh," Peter hesitates, moving off of you, choosing to sit up next to you instead. "I... I love you."

You're sitting him, mouth slightly agape. All you'd expected tonight was a congratulations from Peter, not a love confession.

The silence scares him until Peter manages to hear your elevated heart rate (only barely over his own). Your face is hot and Peter's about to insist that you don't have to respond right now when you're pulling him in, slowly. Your hand is on his cheek and Peter's arms have shyly wrapped around you. Your noses bump and Peter tilts his head, not quite shutting his eyes just yet. His breath comes out a little strained and you know he's not gonna go for it until you do.

"I love you, Peter," you whisper. "But don't ever do that again."

Peter nods, moving to place a hand on your chin. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good."

And you lean in, finally, capturing Peter's lips in a kiss he was terrified he'd never experience again. He savored it now, hungry, refusing to let you go. He relished the funny feeling that your words created in his chest, pulling you close and making you feel every little ounce of love he had for you.

Peter wouldn't risk losing you again as long as he could help it.

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm spiderman x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tasm fanfiction #v + peter #v writes

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ms-fade · 1 year

Text

How would being a brat/Acting up and getting spanked by the characters 18+

Who is includes: Rhaenyra, Jacaerys, Aemond, Alicent.

Alicent Hightower…

Alicent would want to show you that there are consequences to your actions. “I love you darling but this just be done. You have been bad and you know what happens when you are a bad girl/boy.” Depending on the situation she would have you comfortably spend out across her lap and give you your slaps, or if you have been extra bad she would pull out a paddle. But after she will wipe your tears and comfort you, even has lotion prepared to help with the pain and soreness.

—

Rhaenyra Targaryen…

Rhaenya is disappointed in you for being a brat and being bad, she has givin you everything but you still behave like this? She will not hesitate to leave any room or business and bend you over her knee and spank you hard. Doesn’t matter if you cry or plead, if she believes it’s time to stop then, only then it is. But if you are only just being a little bad then she will wait till the night you two are alone and give you your spanks there. They usually don’t last as long. You always get to have head strokes and rubs after.

—

Jacaerys Velaryon…

Jacaerys loves you with every inch of his body and soul, so he is a soft dom most of the time. But never test him or you will get the dragon to come out and show you who you are messing with. If you acting up in small ways then it will end with you being over his knee giving you slaps in more of a teaching way, voicing his disappointment in his little love. But when you cross the line you better hope he will have mercy. He will strip you nude and push you up ago a wall or over the table and pin you there. He wouldn’t stop until you are crying uncontrollably and begging and apologizing. He can be two different people, but rest assured no matter what he gives the best aftercare.

—

Aemond Targaryen…

Aemond is a man who loves to see you in tears, never sad ones but in pain and pleasure, get him going. So when you are in trouble he will always go into disciplining you. When it’s something small: the spanks are less hard but have a mix between soft and hard to keep you on edge, it doesn’t stop with slapping but he will use his nails slightly. When you are being a menace Aemond might even tell you to stop being a brat in front of anyone and drag you away and telling them that you need to be punished to embarrass you. He will then take you to his room and cut your clothes open. Making you stand while he spanks you, causing you to loss balance and knees wobble while he gives you no mercy, he doesn’t care how bad it hurts because you deserve it. He will not hold back and his nails will drawl blood and will have you pleading for his forgive while apologizing. He does love and care for you so he will have a bath ready for you and even kiss your pain away.

#house of the dragon drabble #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon HC’s #alicent hightower #Alicent Hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra Targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond tagaryen smut #aemond targaryen #i love jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon headcanons #aemond targaryen headcanons #house of the dragon headcanons

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kyotosworld · 1 year

Text

Nervous

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: steve helps you deal with a breakup. best friends to lovers. (fluff)

warnings: suggestive comments

word count: 767

"He didn’t deserve you."

"That’s sweet, and I know, but sadly, that doesn’t make it hurt any less."

Your ex of one month just broke up with you, and you’re heartbroken—well, kind of. You hadn’t dated for that long, and your feelings for him weren’t very strong, but the relationship was a good thing. Plus, it hurt your ego to get broken up with. After it happened and you had somewhat accepted it, you told Steve.

You and Steve have been the closest of friends ever since you met your freshman year. Steve got lost and asked you for directions to a place that was right across from where you guys were standing. You both laughed about it, talked more, and have been close ever since.

Now you’re here in Steve's dorm, sitting on his couch, after you told him the news.

"I’m really sorry, but I can’t stand seeing you this miserable. C’mon," Steve says as he grabs your hands and pulls you up to stand. "We’re going to practice what to do when you see him again."

"What? why?" You groan, annoyed that you had to get up from Steve's very comfortable couch.

"Cause it’s gonna happen," he says with a serious look on his face, "and you need to be prepared; I know how easily you fold."

You make a slightly offended face but know he’s right. You roll your eyes, "Fine, what are we practicing?"

"I’m going to pretend to be him, and you’re going to show me how you would react to him if he were to come up to you."

"Ok. I don’t see the point in this, but I’ll do it just for you." You smile sarcastically.

Steve chuckles. "Ok, ready?"

"Mhm," you nod.

His face quickly changes, and he starts doing his best impression of your ex, "Hey, how’s it been? I couldn’t sleep last night, couldn’t stop thinking about you."

Oh.

"I need to check you off my to-do list." Steve smirks.

You know that he was only acting, but woah, maybe I do fold easily. Your ex never talked to you like that—well, he tried, but he wasn’t very good at it. Steve’s a natural.

"I shouldn’t have broken up with you, I miss you." He inches closer. "I want you," he says, all while maintaining eye contact with you.

You're flustered by his flirting with you and lost in the way he’s invading your space. You don’t say anything, and Steve looks disappointed.

"Oh, come on. We’ve barely started," he teases.

That brings you out of your not-so-friendly thoughts of him, and you shake your head, "Oh, right."

"What’s wrong? Didn’t that douche talk to you like that all the time?"

"Yeah…he just-he wasn’t…very good at it," you say quietly while looking away in embarrassment.

"Are you saying I'm good at flirting?"

"No. Shut up," you slap him on the shoulder.

He laughs, "What is it then? How come you messed up so easily?"

"I won’t mess up when I actually see him, I was just…distracted." You ramble on without thinking, "You're the only one who has that effect on me anyway-" you stop yourself as you realize what you just said and clench your eyes shut.

Steve freezes, "What?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, hoping he didn't hear what you said despite knowing it’s unlikely.

"No, I don't think that was nothing." Steve says with a teasing look in his eye.

You look everywhere but him.

He cocks his head in realization and smirks, "Oh.” He moves closer to you. “Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?"

You finally get the courage to look up and instantly regret it. He has a determined look in his eye, as if he won't be satisfied until you admit it to him. So you whisper, "Yes."

A few more seconds of searching one another’s eyes before he crashes his lips onto yours.

You finally understand the feeling people get when they kiss, when they know they have met the right person—a feeling you have never had before Steve. You have wanted this for so long, even when you didn't know it, and from the look of things, Steve has too.

You both pull away in need of air, breathing heavily. Then you laugh, "Are we still practicing?"

"I’m going to pretend you didn't say that and continue kissing you," he says before doing just that. You can feel his smile against your lips.

Well, you don't have to worry about me going back to him anymore." You giggle once you pull apart.

"Thank goodness," he laughs before diving back in.

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robynlilyblack · 2 years

Note

hey love! i just had a pretty bad day and i got a bad grade for a test i studied hard for.. so i was wondering if you could write Hermione Granger x fem!reader, and the reader had a bad day and got a bad great and Hermione comforts her, telling her it’s okay and yk just lots of cuddles and fluff :)

Bad day

Hermione Granger x fem! reader

Summary: Y/n's had the worst day, good thing her girlfriend is there to let her know it’s all going to be okay

Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, lots of fluff and shameless flirting

A/n: 0.8k words, wolfstars daughter and can be in the same universe as this fic, thank you for the request and I hope you’re feeling better now too. Hope you like it and lots of cuddles to you 💛

Navigation | Golden Era Characters Masterlist

“Wow the smartest girl in schools dating an idiot”

You resisted the urge to cry in the middle of class, holding it in until the class was dismissed and you rushed out. As you left your eyes glazed over so much you didn’t see your girlfriend sitting on a wall outside for you

Her heart broke at the sight, quickly moving to catch up with you “Sweets?” she says sounding worried

You look at her, tears already falling. You felt like such a failure, not only for yourself but to her, she helped you study for it and yet you still failed. How stupid do you have to be to fail an exam Hermione Granger, the smartest, and prettiest, girl in the world prepared you for personally

You hadn’t even noticed she was leading you back to her dorm until you reached it, too caught up in your bad thoughts, the disappointment you feared from the one you loved most

“You want to talk about it?” she wonders, hand in yours as she pulls you over to sit next to her on the bed

“Bad day” you say quietly

She moves to straddle your lap, hugging you right away “It’s over now” she says softly, kissing your temple and you melt under touch

“There’s something else” you confess after a few minutes and she pulls back

She tilts her head, fingers gently wiping the tears as they fall “What sweets? Someone mean to you because I’ll kick their arse, I’m smarter than the twins I can make them suffer worse than they could ever dream” she says and you let out a giggle, she was always so protective over you

Your smile fades as you speak “I failed the test” you frown, looking down unable to watch her reaction

“Oh sweets” she sighs but it doesn’t sound disappointed in you, she could never be disappointed by you “Look at me” her fingers move to raise your jaw, gently making you look at her

“Are you mad?”

She shakes her head “No of course not” she cups your cheeks “You tried really hard…” she starts, her voice soothing but your still in your own head

“Wasn’t good enough though” you mutter cutting her off “I’m not good enough” you scrunch up your face, feeling the tears coming again

She gives you a sad look “One test doesn’t define your worth” you nose scrunches again and her hands shift backwards on your cheeks “Listen to me, it doesn’t. Sometimes we have off days okay, one bad grade doesn’t make you any less of an utterly amazing human being…well utterly amazing…” she kisses your cheek “…beautiful…” she kisses your other cheek “…smart…” then your nose “…witch” and she finishes by pecking your lips

Your face softens at her words and kisses, lips tugging up “You don’t mind having a dumb girlfriend?” you pout

She tuts at you “You aren’t dumb” she says firmly “Smarts isn’t just how much you know, I’m book smart sure but with people I’m lost. You know I don’t actually hate quidditch, I just say I do because I lack the know how to understand it” she confesses

“Really?” you look at her surprised but your smile is growing, feeling lighter

She nods “Yeah, wizard chess too. Why do you think I’ve never played it? There’s no way in hell I’d live it down if Ron or Harry bet me” she exclaims and you both giggle

“My lips are sealed” you pretend to lock them

“Better be” she says playfully “My image would be ruined!” she says overdramatically, falling off your lap and onto the bed beside you

She smiles up at you, laying on her back, before beginning to giggle to herself while you watch her fondly. Not many people got to see this side of her, the giggly weird her she kept behind closed doors, doors even Harry and Ron had never fully opened, merely peeked inside

“You are so beautiful” the words fall from your mouth easily and she stops giggling, now smiling up at you, suddenly shy “Even prettier now” you flirt

“Stop” she whines, turning and burying her head into the covers

You giggle “Never love” you shift on the bed, laying on your stomach and peering at her, heart fluttering as she peaks her head out at you

“How did we go from me comforting you to you making me all…” she bites her lip

You smirk “Hot and bothered” you wiggle your eyebrows

Her eyes widen, hitting you playfully “You’re gonna kill me one day, seriously your...” she trails off seeing your cheeky look "okay...siriusly your gonna make me combust or something" she corrects

You laugh, shuffling closer to her “Maybe but before that day comes can I get a hug from my favourite person?” you ask, tugging one of her curls behind her ear slowly, soaking up the feeling of her soft skin

She closes her eyes briefly at your touch before opening her arms and letting you lay your head on her chest "Always" she kisses your hair, arms coming around protectively while yours wrap around her waist

“It’s gonna be okay” she says after a few seconds

"I know" You hold her that little bit tighter “I love you so much” you lean on your chin to look up with her “I hope tell you that enough”

She soothes your hair “You do, not just in words but in everything you do” she smiles down at you, eyes filled with love “And that’s one of the many reasons I love you sweets”

"You know" you lean up and kiss her lips "I may be a flirt but you've got me wrapped around your pretty little finger" you lace your hand with hers, thumb and forefinger fiddling with hers

"Do I now?" she says grinning "And should I use this new found knowledge for good..." she looks at you with a mischievous glint you loved more than anything "...or for evil!" she launches into a tickle attack, leaving you in fit of giggles until you eventually surrender with the promise of a kiss...maybe today wasn't so bad after all

Thank you for reading 💛

#hermione granger x reader #hermione granger x you #hermione x reader #hermione granger #Hermione and reader #hermione granger and reader #wlw #golden era #robynsrequests #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger fluff #wolfstar daughter #wolfstar parents

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purpleshadow-star · 7 months

Text

Au where, when someone is ready to die, they don’t feel any pain. The more ready someone is to die, the less pain they feel.

tws: lots of talk about death and dying (not technically suicide ideation but could theoretically be read as such), mentions of Neil's torture in the Nest (very vague and brief) and by Lola (not really vague but not explicit either, if that makes sense)

Neil Josten is ready to die.

It’s not that he necessarily wants to die, but he knows it’s coming, and he’s made peace with that. He’s ready for it.

He’s not worried about his impending death. He’s known that he was never going to make it to the end of the year ever since he first signed the papers to become a Fox and put himself in the spotlight, so he knows that, no matter what, at least he’ll have a painless death.

Sure, his experience in the Nest ends up being more painful than Neil wants it to be, but it isn't all that surprising. He might be ready to die, but he’s not ready to die there. Not by Riko’s hand. He refuses. So, there’s pain. But that’s a different circumstance. Someone else is depending on him to live. Neil doesn’t want to think about what could happen to Andrew if Neil doesn’t keep Riko’s attention on him. So, it’s different. He needed to live to ensure Andrew would be okay.

In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway

Once Neil starts getting the countdown, though? Well, he knew he wasn’t making it to the end of the school year, but now he knows exactly how much longer he has. When the day rolls around, Neil is more than ready. He’s been waiting for this moment for months, almost an entire year, really. Sure, it sucks that Neil won’t be able to play the game he loves with his team anymore, and sure, it’s a shock to see Romeo and Jackson and Lola waiting for him, but that doesn’t change the fact that Neil is ready for them. He’s glad that he’ll get to take away this last bit of satisfaction from Lola. She won’t see him flinch. She won’t hear a peep of pain from him when she inevitably tortures him because he’s been preparing for this day for what feels like his whole life.

He’s prepared to die.

So imagine Neil’s shock when he acutely feels the sting of metal that is Lola’s first cut. He’s so surprised that he fails to hold back an audible noise of pain. Only a not so long buried instinct from when his mother was still alive keeps his next reactions in, but his slip-up doesn’t go unnoticed. Lola is behind him, slicing him up, taunting him. Look who’s not so ready to die after all. I’m almost disappointed by how easy it was to get a reaction from you. I was hoping for a little more of a challenge. Tell me, Junior, what do you have to live for? What is making you want to live? Why aren’t you ready to die?

Neil barely hears her. He’s too busy asking himself all the same questions. Just a few months ago, he took an exy ball to the stomach and barely felt a thing. What changed?

Unbidden, his mind wanders to Andrew. Andrew and keys and the Monsters and the Upperclassmen and Wymack and Abby. The Foxes. His team. His friends. He realizes that, at some point in the past few months, they’ve managed to get past the walls he put up. They’ve rooted themselves deep in his chest, and they’re not letting go.

They are the reason he’s not ready for death anymore. The thought of leaving them hurts. He knows it’s necessary. He knows he needs to let them go, or else he would only end up bringing more monsters to their doorstep, but he’s now realizing that he’s not ready to let them go. Have to and ready to are two completely different things, he realizes as his voice is violently ripped from his throat through the burn of a cigarette lighter on his face. He’s feeling this pain because he’s not ready to let go of his new family yet. He’s not ready to leave them. He’s realizing now that he might never be ready.

A few hours ago, Neil was sure he was ready to die. He walked to his death with open arms, ready to embrace a painless, inevitable release. But now, in the midst of unexpected pain and agony, Neil changes his mind. He thinks he wants to keep feeling this pain. He doesn’t want the painless release of death anymore. He wants to fight back. He wants to keep living. He wants to make it back to his team. He wants to make it back to his friends. He wants to make it back to Andrew. He wants to make it back home.

Neil makes up his mind. Even if it means distancing himself from the person he’s lied into existence over the past few months, even if it means becoming the person he’s been running away from for almost nine years now, he’ll do whatever it takes to make it back to his family.

Nathaniel Wesninski isn’t ready to die.

#this came to me after i got out of the shower yesterday but i was running late for work so i wrote this at work lol #and now im at work again editing/reviewing/ posting it #ig work is prime writing time for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#anyway i wanna make this concept into a full fic #ive already opened a new doc and typed out the forst few sentences #i also really wanna do one from andrew's pov cause i think it could be really really cool #anyway enjoy this random drabble #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andreil #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #drabble #purpleshadow's fics #also in case it isnt clear: neil isnt suicidal in this. he doesnt want to die but he knows it’s gonna happen and has accepted it #he ready to die bc he's accepted death but thay doesnt mean he wants death #by the end he's no longer willing to accept death. instead of accepting death he's choosing to fight to live. ergo he's not ready to die #i hope that all makes sense lol

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vetiaverred · 7 months

Text

[ BREAK ; PT. 2 ]

*[ “ i want to know why. “ While the space between them is much less than Vetiver would like, those words slice through it so cleanly. His mind moves miles a minute, a bit frantic with the pressure having a gun on him understandably creates— it could mean a million related things, and he could be looking for a million separate answers. But none of them feel right as he fumbles to reply.]

“ WHY... WHAT? “

*[Stray growls, body giving a threatening jolt forward to bring the gun even closer. Close enough to hold it directly against Vetiver’s sternum, though he leaves a few centimeters yet.]

* “ everything! don't— don't act stupid, you know i'll do it. “

*[Vetiver’s gaze once again drops to the gun; slowly, reluctantly. As if looking at it head on might make this situation real. But that’s wishful thinking, he knows. He doesn’t doubt Stray’s conviction for even an instant. He really would do it. He wouldn’t push it this far unless he was ready to see it through.]

“ I DO, BUT... “

*[Stray’s glare only becomes increasingly ferocious, his grip on his pistol tightening in direct response to his rage. Yet he too takes a moment to formulate what he wants to say. Clearly the monster in front of him doesn’t get it.]

* “ why is it always you? “

*[Confusion crosses Vetiver’s expression, briefly replacing the well-restrained fear that was written there. Stray immediately starts to bare his teeth like an animal waiting for its prey to make the wrong move he’s SURE it will.]

“ … WHAT DO YOU MEAN? “

*[Disappointment and frustration sound in the way Stray huffs, nearly incredulous.]

* “ come on, use your fucking head a little! you don’t think there’s something wrong with that? with any of it? you really think that makes sense? “

*[Vetiver remains silent, still not fully certain what Stray is trying to get at. Of course, it doesn’t make sense to him either. It’s not like he expected for things to go this way, for him to become like this, for it to be for the better. And he especially didn’t expect to make any friends, given his track record. Is that earnestly what this is about, though?]

* “ people may not kiss the ground you walk on anymore, but plenty of them would still kill me because of you. don't tell me you’ve forgotten that little detail. and i'm supposed to just let it go because you’re sooo much better now? nothing has changed. “

*[It’s only a moment, but Vetiver is almost positive he heard desperation in Stray’s declaration that nothing has changed. He’s not prepared for the way that hearing that... hurts, strangely. Perhaps he’s been desperate this whole time, too. Desperate for things to be different after all.]

“ NOBODY IS SAYING THAT YOU HAVE TO FORGIVE ME. “

*[Stray snaps his response, close to tripping over the sentences with how rushed they come out. Caught up in his emotions, speaking before getting the chance to think. Lacking the cold calculation that Vetiver is used to seeing from him.]

* “ great, because i don’t! but everyone seems to think you got what you deserved— hell, maybe even more than you had coming. what do you think? “

*[Vetiver frowns, giving a sort of wince at this loaded question. It’s one he doesn’t like to think about. It’s something that’s contributed to keeping him up at night on multiple occasions. As much as he’d love to shy away from even brushing the subject, right now he hasn’t got that choice. Stray's words from their last encounter like this rush to the front of his mind: “ and what a luxury that is, huh? “ He thinks he understands that sentiment, now. Stray had never had the luxury of getting to step away from the things that hurt. He wasn’t given that option. So now, he’s TAKING IT AWAY.]

“ … IS IT REALLY MY PLACE TO DECIDE IF I WAS PUNISHED CORRECTLY FOR WHAT I DID? “

*[Stray’s growl is much louder this time, and finally, Vetiver can feel the pistol pressed to his chest. Jabbed into it, though only enough to sting at a level that the taller skeleton would hardly pay notice to right now. There’s bigger things to be focused on.]

* “ ohh, don’t give me that shit! that answer’s the easy way out. keep that up and i'll show you how easy your out can be. “

*[Cornered as he is, tensions running high, Vetiver raises his voice to shoot back much louder than he should for someone at gunpoint.]

“ THEN WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?! THAT I DON’T THINK ANYTHING WILL MAKE UP FOR WHAT I HAVE DONE? THAT I WAKE UP EACH DAY FEELING GUILTY? “

*[Stray hisses from between his teeth, but Vetiver can see it. Visible suddenly, not just audible, that DESPERATE look in the skeleton’s eyes.]

* “ no. “

*[That’s not what he was looking for, evidently, but... he glances away for awhile. A lengthy pause follows, Vetiver not daring to speak up and challenge the silence. To try and use this to his advantage never occurs to him, but then again, he senses that something is coming. The HEART of this problem. And when Stray eventually looks at him again, his hand— the gun in it, too — shakes. Never wavering or moving away, but it gives the mercenary away.]

*[Vetiver hasn’t seen him look this vulnerable in a very long time. Stray has always made sure of that.]

* “ why did you... “

* “ you’re my fucking brother-- why did you...! “

*[He hasn’t earnestly called Vetiver a brother in years, either. Years. Stray trails off, his eye sockets gone devoid of any light. His usual grin, his cocky demeanor, have completely vanished. Stripped of all of that, the fancy clothes, the arsenal, the smart remarks that keep everyone away... all that’s left is a monster who’s haunted by something. By someone, or what they should have been. That same monster he was when he was trapped underground, trapped in more than one way. Vetiver is well aware that he’s not the only one who has morphed into someone different on purpose. When the captive audience settles on an honest answer to give him, his voice is lowered again. Gentle, or attempting to be as best as he can. It’s not his area of expertise.]

“ I DIDN’T HAVE A GOOD REASON. I WAS WRONG. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR...? “

*[There’s a hitching sound deep in Stray’s chest, like a choked breath or utterance. Like he’s in pain. He once again tightens his hold on his weapon, but his hand only shakes more now. All of him shaking, as it resounds through his body.]

* “ but why?! don't act like i can’t take it now. you've dished out worse. “

*[A bitter laugh tails behind, but it’s apparent he doesn’t really mean it. It's his reflex; his NATURE.]

“ … BECAUSE I COULD. TO MAKE MYSELF LOOK BETTER. TO ATTAIN CONTROL, AND POWER. FOR THE SAME REASONS THAT I DID ANYTHING. YOU... DID NOT DO ANYTHING TO MAKE ME CHOOSE THAT BEHAVIOR. “

*[Dead air. Stray says absolutely nothing, but his arm gradually starts to lower, pointing the gun away from its intended target. Without acknowledgement, like his arm simply grew tired. He’s so tired. Vetiver is conflicted on whether he should feel relieved, or feel worse than ever... though his body is starting to relax a touch. Thankfully.]

“ AND FOR WHAT IT IS WORTH TO YOU... I’M SORRY-- “

* “ save it. “

*[He’s cut off before he can finish, but it’s empty of the usual bite. Stray sounds as tired as he feels, and looks. Probably no more sober, but this moment has been no less than sobering for the both of them. Finally Stray’s arm has dropped fully at his side, pistol’s line of fire directed fully to the floor... and he turns away, beginning to drag his feet towards the door. Vetiver’s eyes remain on him, but he believes it unwise to follow after in body. He doesn’t know what he’d even say. Or why he’d even stop him from leaving.]

“ WHERE ARE YOU GOING...? “

*[He doesn’t expect an answer. He doesn’t know why he asked. But he felt himself leaning into the question anyway. Stray stops for a moment, but as he retorts without even looking back over his shoulder, he starts to make for the exit again.]

* “ … home. see ya. “

*[An afterthought, he throws a up a middle finger as he opens the door. Letting it be the last thing seen of him as the door shuts behind, a bit like none of this had ever happened. To restore some sense of normalcy, maybe. But in the stillness that comes after, in the wake of it all, Vetiver is certain that something has just changed. Given Stray’s unpredictable personality, he can’t be too sure whether this difference is for the better or worse... but it’s change. And this ex-guard has been finding most change lately to be better than nothing.

*[All he can do is hope for the best.]

#f2f.#long post #{i thought about this all day so i just had to while the Vision was there}

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butididntpourthewhiskeys · 2 years

Text

Christmasbound VIII

“How much gravy do you want to put aside?”

“Perhaps just half of it for now?”

“Where do you have the…”

“Second drawer on the right.”

Taylor slowly makes her way back to the kitchen counter, leaning against the marble stone in her navy blue dress, her hair curly hanging over her shoulder. She crosses her arms, looks at Joe being helpful in the kitchen. He’s just helping her prepare the last bits and pieces for tonight’s dinner. He’s quiet, not mad. He hasn’t been speaking much, but hasn’t been ignoring her either. He made it clear to her that he doesn’t want to speak about it, that he doesn’t feel like talking at this point. And she takes it. She has to take it for what it is. Him and her in the house, Eleanor between them and a house full of family over these holidays.

“You look nice tonight.” she says, her voice a bit more uplifted than before. Perhaps, taking a first step towards him will do the trick. Joe doesn’t answer, is busy wrapping a bowl of gravy into cling film carefully as he feels two hands wrapping themselves around his torso from behind.

“…like a whole snack.” she whispers jokingly, already pressing her face into his dark grey shirt that’s covering his sleek body in the best way possible. He looks as effortlessly handsome as he always does. Only a shirt and a pair of jeans and it makes her go limb on an instant.

With her face pressed into his back, she awaits any type of reaction but nothing. She breathes him in. And it hurts. His silence hurts. She doesn’t want to let him go, doesn’t want to just brush off that he rejected her touch, but decides to still unwrap her arms from his torso then. She just stands there now, in high heels, right next to him in the kitchen, feeling more than rejected. And Joe doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he’s now studying the back of a red wine bottle, doesn’t seem impressed by her flirtations.

“We still have an hour before your family arrives. Shall we talk perhaps?” she then murmurs. She looks at his back. It’s slowly getting dark outside. The living room of her house is lit up in the warmest way. Fairy lights are hanging from her Christmas trees, and the little candles up on the fireplace are lid, too. It’s the cosiest way to spend Christmas Eve. Snow, warmth and the people she loves most right next to her. It could be the cosiest way to spend this evening if there wasn’t this horrible cold between them.

“Why?” he answers then, after what feels like eternity. Joe carefully turns around, seems to look into her face for the first time today. She swallows, feels anger rise in her. Anger and an uncomfortable amount of anxiety.

“Because I don’t like having your family over while we’re in World War III over here, Joe.” she says, “I’m getting major last year vibes.” she adds then, sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood with her joke.

“Correct” he replies then, with too much honesty and annoyance in his voice for her taste.

She sighs, now just shakes her head in disappointment while looking at the floor. This is not what it’s supposed to be. They shouldn’t be fighting already, after spending less than 48 hours together in her house. This time, Joe looks at her for the first time in a while, standing across from her in the kitchen and leaning against the marble counter on the other side of the room. She’s crossed her arms and has that same worried look on her face that he knows too well. She pretends to be cool, but the anxiety is in her eyes. She’s not good at communicating her emotions yet always tells him exactly how she feels with those eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” he then says, turned around to her fully, the kitchen cloth being thrown onto the counter, his presence fully on her. His eyebrows are lowered. He looks a bit angry but restless at the same time.

“That you’re angry? Just something.” she says immediately, her arms still crossed. She can’t believe he’s turned last nights love making and the absence of three single words into this. They’ve gone 2 steps forward and 3 steps back. He seems so closed up, a look on his face that tells her that he can’t seem to remind himself why he stayed. Why he didn’t end already whatever developed between them in the past days and weeks.

“I’m not angry.” he sighs.

“Of course you are.” she says, faster than he can.

Joe doesn’t say anything, just looks down again, not meeting her eyes anymore. She feels her stomach churn.

“You know what, maybe I am.” he says then, a bit more aggressive than she usually knows him. But Taylor almost feels relieved, almost feels thankful that he’s not shutting her out anymore. She would always prefer angry Joe to quiet Joe. Angry Joe is unfair and sometimes a bit too emotional for her taste, but he cares. He is angry, because he cares. Doesn’t walk away from her and decides to love someone else.

“Maybe I am mad about the fact that I’ve spent… that I’ve spent years loving you despite.. despite everything that’s happened and how our lives changed and.. and now that we’re here, and we’re in this together, and we’re finally so close to just.. letting all of this shit go you still… you still can’t just open up to me.”

Taylor stands there, realises just now that his words were more than she wanted. She feels sick all of the sudden, overwhelmed by his accusation. Because he is so wrong. Because, perhaps, he’s so right?

“What? Do you think opening up means saying I love you after sex? Do you think that’s the only way I am opening up?” she defends herself, her voice getting angry, sounding a bit more on edge than before. She doesn’t want to get loud, doesn’t want Eleanor upstairs to listen to this conversation between her parents.

“You are.. you are in my house and in my bed and.. we’re celebrating Christmas like a family. That’s a lot, Joe.” she breathes heavily, her hands shaky. She radiates anxiety, which is something that Joe hates. He’d never want to cause her to be anxious, ever. Yet it feels like, once again, that’s exactly the effect he has on her.

He doesn’t answer her again, hasn’t moved from the spot he’s been standing in front of her.

“It’s not enough for me.” he says then, not moving, not looking at her, not a sign of uncertainty in his voice.

Taylor just stands there, feels like her lungs are not able to get air no more. She immediately feels heat rising up and her eyes getting more and more watery with every second passing bye. She doesn’t move, both her arms crossed, both her hands getting sweaty now too.

“Okay.” she says, her voice shaking. It’s only then that Joe looks back at her, and his face changes. Softens.

“Shit, that came out really wrong.” he mumbles then. A hint of empathy in his voice. For the first time today.

“No, it’s.. this is not enough for you. I get it.” she says then, feels hot tears coming up in her eyes, but immediately swallows them down again. He knew that this is how he can get her. He knew that this was always her greatest fear, for as long as he knows her, yet he’s still gone there today.

“It is enough for me.” he says eagerly then, for the first time today approaching her instead of pushing her away. He takes one step closer to her, places his hands on both her upper arms and looks at her apologetically. She doesn’t look at him though, her face still focused on the floor.

“This came out completely wrong. I didn’t mean that you aren’t enough for me. I meant that this… this constant uncertainty is just..” he stops speaking, just sighs again and doesn’t know how to continue. His lips part once more, but nothing comes out. Nothing but his hot breath, right on her face.

“I just..”

He tries again, then stops. He can’t take this one more time. Seeing her so hurt. So unhappy. Her eyes so empty. As empty as they’ve been for the past three years.

“I just want to be for you who.. who I once was.” he whispers then, his hands still running up and down her upper arms, her face slowly turning to look at him. She’s unsure, but it almost looks like he’s about to tear up. He’s too close to her face for her to be able to see clearly.

“I don’t want to be the guy you.. you have to learn to forgive. I don’t want you to have to learn to say that you love me again, I just.. I just want you to feel it.”

Taylor parts her lips, has so many things she wants to say to him. But the look in his eyes is too heavy on her. It’s like seeing the person you know the best, break. It’s like looking into her daughter’s eyes. She always forgets just how much they look alike.

“I feel it. I feel you. I just…”

Just when Taylor stops talking is when she can feel his hands making their way down her hips, right onto her back and then arriving slowly but gently on the lower backside of her body. Slower and slower, until they have a secure grip on her bum cheeks. She still feels completely taken by his eyes, the anxious look in his blue yes having turned into another form of extreme emotion. He looks bothered. Bothered by his lust for her. Taken by her, and the feelings he feels in his body for the woman in front of him.

“I need you so much. Not just like this.” he whispers then, his eyes fully focused on her face. Her blonde bangs are almost falling into her eyes, the curly hair over her shoulder. Her red lips, and her small hands that he knows better than his own, wandering all the way up from his chest to his beard.

“I need you so much, Joe.” she says, only mili-seconds before she lifts her head up and kisses him intensively. She usually never resides to a proper kiss when her lips are covered in lipstick. But this time, she just forgets. Even more so, she just decides that this urge in her is stronger than her rational thinking. Her tongue quickly finds her way to his, and Joe feels the warm breath escaping her nose on his. His hands are suddenly everywhere. Taylor sighs into the kiss. She tastes like the cappuccino she’s had just a few moments ago. Her tongue as soft as he remembers and the feeling of her curly hair against his forehead more familiar than anything he’s ever felt before.

Her hands are deep in his short hair now, and his mouth is slowly leaving her lips, wandering to her throat. He feels like losing himself in her skin. The natural scent that radiates from her drives him insane. He loves the little birthmark on the side of her throat more than his life. His tongue and lips are loving up on her a bit more intense than per usual. He knows that and so does she. Taylor slowly opens her eyes again for a split second, and all she can see the ceiling of her living room. All she feels is his hands on her. One securely on her back and the other one under the skirt of her dress, deeply buried inside her panties. It’s then that she realises that they’re just moments away from indulging in sex. In animalistic, unbothered sex. Right here in her kitchen. Right here whilst their daughter is upstairs, ready to walk down and find them like this any second.

“Bathroom.” she says slowly and Joe lets go off her for a second. He understands her message within a split second. His eyes are still half closed, his lips red while breathing heavily and his pants radiate a certain tightness that she knows too well. Joe nods, while walking backwards with her, almost stumbling over his own feet.

____________

“This is ridiculous” he mumbles desperately, still staring into the mirror in front of him while washing his face. Her red lipstick is still stuck in his beard. It’s been a few minutes now that he’s trying to get rid of the stains of her lipstick, but without success. Taylor, who has already fixed both her face and hair, now takes a step towards him and giggles quietly.

“Come here.”

“Is this like cement? Or..”

“It was waterproof.” she says, almost apologetically, whilst grabbing his face and rubbing his lips and mouth with the make- up removing wipes she used earlier. She can’t help but giggle while taking care of him. Even more so, when she hears him sigh over her previous answer.

“Why would you put that on your lips all the time? This is horrible.”

Taylor grins again, even though she feels for him. His beard really seems to not let go of her lipstick.

“Look at us. Making out with lipstick on. We’re teenagers.” she mumbles then, makes him laugh as well. Taylor slowly lets go off him and takes a good look at the situation in front of her. He’s still a bit red-ish. She reaches for a fresh wipe.

“I look like a ginger now.”

Taylor laughs again, and Joe secretly loves the fact that her hand is so steady on his cheek, making sure he gets all cleaned up. He loves seeing her smile so closely to his face. He notices the little pimple on her chin and there’s nothing he finds more endearing.

“You don’t. It’s just a bit…stained.”

Joe doesn’t say anything, just giggles quietly with her.

“Tay?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m sorry for last night.” he says then and Taylor expected anything to come out of his mouth. Anything but this. She gets nervous suddenly again, yet doesn’t stop cleaning his face with her make- up remover wipes carefully.

“Me, too.” she says then quietly, folding the wipe once before placing it on the counter behind her. She can feel Joe reach for her hand, and lifts it up to press a gentle kiss onto it quietly. She smiles slightly, a look of satisfied exhaustion still on her face.

“I’m so happy you’re home, Joe.”

He needs to hear nothing else but instead lets go off her hand and pulls her into a gentle but tight hug. This time, his hand isn’t wandering to the lower back of her body. Instead, he just remains close to her, loves to feel her body pressed against his. He feels so happy to hold her in his arms, feels her small frame protected against his chest. Taylor’s eyes are closed too, and she just places her still shaky hand on his back. Her eyes are closed. His scent in her nose, slowly healing all the wounds he’s caused before. It’s like her torturer slowly became her remedy.

“Mommy! Mommy, I think Santa is here.” a little voice yells from the hallway.

Taylor doesn’t let go off Joe, just chuckles into his arms. He slowly lets go off her, smiles his nicest smile at her and leans forward to kiss her forehead.

“Let’s not be naughty anymore today, mummy. Santa’s here.”

She just laughs quietly and punches him into the side before unlocking the bathroom door again and walks downstairs to help Eleanor open up the door for their guests.

“I don’t think it’s Santa, baby. Look! It’s grandpa” Joe can hear her answer in her excited but gentle voice while walking down the stairs. He just remains standing in the bathroom and laughs quietly. It’s been a while since Christmas has felt so warm. It’s really been a while.

____________

“Sweetheart, that salad dressing is lovely! How did you…”

“I hate to break it to you, but it’s store bought.” everyone hears Taylor answer Elizabeth from the kitchen, and the entire table laughs slightly.

“Whole Foods.”

“Why did you say that?” Joe intervenes jokingly, yelling back to the open kitchen where Taylor is taking the main course out of the oven.

“It’s of course home-made.” he adds, and gets an eye-roll back from Taylor. It’s now gotten fully dark outside, and her dinner table is full. Full of glasses and food, but most importantly surrounded by the people she calls her second family. Whilst Patrick and his girlfriend are still talking to Tom about his girlfriend Lucy’s new job, Richard is busy helping Eleanor change her Barbie doll into a new outfit. Elizabeth just looks at Joe with a laugh on her face, while finishing her salad.

“Taylor, you shouldn’t have made such an effort. How long have you been preparing all this?” she asks, clearly impressed by the different dishes she’s cooked for this evening. And it’s not even Christmas day yet. Elizabeth knows that she’s never hosted a proper Christmas before, and she shouldn’t have made such an effort for them.

“Oh, we’ve just been taking care of this yesterday, was no big deal.” she answers, slowly walks back to the table and places the bowl of honey glazed potatoes next to the main course. She slowly sits down again, the chair between her and Joe empty as Eleanor seems to be too nervous to remain sitting on her chair for once.

“Joe helped you?” Elizabeth asks then, reaches for her glass of wine again and looks to her son who seems unusually smiley tonight. A lot more smiley than she’s seen him in the past couple of weeks.

“Of course I did. I don’t have to pay rent here, so I thought I could pay in chopped vegetables.” he jokes, making Taylor laugh.

“Who says you don’t have to pay rent?” she gives back with a smirk on her face, making him smirk quietly too.

“So you.. you properly live here now?” Elizabeth asks, confusion in her face. This time, Richard also looks up to take part in the conversation. Joe clears his throat once, and Taylor feels nervous all of the sudden. She doesn’t even know why, but it feels warm in this room suddenly.

“I mean I moved out of Naomi’s a few weeks back, and.. I haven’t found a new place yet so Taylor offered to crash here and.. for me to spend some time with E.” he answers, proud of himself for having found a good excuse as of why he’s been staying in one house with Taylor.

Elizabeth doesn’t say anything, and Joe knows that she knows. The question is just how long can she keep it to herself and not comment on this any further. Joe gets up to refill everyone’s glasses.

“How’s Robert doing, Taylor? Are you two still seeing each other?”

Joe can hear his mother’s voice around the dinner table whilst he opens another wine bottle in the kitchen. He feels himself getting angry. He knew she wouldn’t stop poking. He knew she wouldn’t be able to just stay out of their business. And Joe knows that Taylor is getting tense. He doesn’t have to sit next to her to feel the anxiety and nervousness radiating form her. She’s got her hand hidden between her crossed legs. A pose she always takes as soon as she gets nervous.

“Uhm, not at the moment.” she says, then casually reaches for her wine glass, acting as if nothing she’s just said would come across as unusual or weird.

“So let me get this right, you guys are both single and living in this house together?” Tom asks now, and it suddenly gets more than quiet around the table. The only person who seems to not be surprised by the sudden topic around the dinner table is Eleanor. With her curls in a little ponytail she just runs from the table back to the couch, where she’s built a little castle for her Barbie dolls under one of the big white pillows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joe now answers, while walking back to the table with the new wine bottle he just opened. He feels responsible all of the sudden. Taylor suspected that this would happen yet he still pushed the situation in the first place.

“Well, you’re not telling us that you two seriously consider trying it again, are you?” Elizabeth now says in disbelief with a hint of shock in her voice. Taylor feels the negativity between her words right away, and it does something to her. She feels pushed into the corner, feels a newborn anger and defensiveness in her chest boiling up slowly but surely.

“Well, maybe we are.” she then says, can’t believe the words just came out of her mouth. For a second, the table freezes. Joe just looks to Taylor in utter surprise, would have never expected her to get these words out of her mouth so naturally. And he knows that it wasn’t the wisest option. He knows that this wasn’t the ideal reaction towards his overtly worried mother.

“Can I.. can I have some more wine?” Patrick then mumbles, seems to be the one to break the silence, desperately trying to ease the weird vibe again. Joe just nods thankfully, and gets up to refill his glass. Taylor is staring onto her plate, doesn’t say anything anymore. She regrets her sudden reaction, he knows that. And his parents just look at them, from Joe, to Taylor, and back to Joe, waiting for any type of reaction. But he doesn’t know what to say, feels at a loss for words in this moment.

“So, you’re saying that you two are back together?” Elizabeth says then, and the same silence from before comes over the dining table again. Nothing but the Christmas music from Joe’s playlist in the background. The burning wood in her fireplace is creaking. Taylor has placed her wine glass in front of her again. She feels shaky, almost nauseous. But also angry. She and Joe haven’t even figured this out for themselves. Why won’t Elizabeth just give them some time before judging. Because she already is. And Taylor can feel it clearly.

“Mum..”

“I’m not saying we’re back together, but we did decide to spend some time together to see if we can work this out, yes.” Taylor then interrupts him, and Joe has never been prouder of her. This is new for him. This is a new found confidence she suddenly radiates. He looks at her in both shock and pride, almost doesn’t notice his mother placing her wine glass on the wooden table in a more aggressive manner than before.

“So by ‘working this out’ you mean you’ve spoken about you taking Eleanor from her father when she was at her most vulnerable and just leaving him to himself for two years? Is that what you’re working out together?”

Taylor looks at Elizabeth in shock. She’s never witnessed Joe’s mom as aggressive and defensive as she is now. Within a second, Richard places his hand on her forearm, telling his wife to stop it. Tom, Patrick and his girlfriend just place their cutlery on the plate in front of them. They’re all uncomfortable. More than that. If there’s anything worse than fighting with a family member, it’s fighting with a family member on the holidays - with everyone around the same table.

“I didn’t take her from her father. I did what I had to do as a mother.” Taylor replies with a shaky voice. She feels cold and hot at the same time. Her stomach is churning. She’s glad her voice is still working, because she felt like it’s gone. Before she can speak any further, she already feels Joe’s hand on her back.

“Mum, stop this right now.” he says angrily.

“I know you are a great mother, Taylor. But you haven’t been a good partner to Joe. And I really thought you got to a point where you both could finally…”

“I haven’t been a good partner? I.. I can’t do this.” she says with a husky voice. She feels like fainting, feels like she’s about to pass out. Before she can get up is when Joe holds her arm, signaling her to stay where she is. Before he can open his mouth to counter his mother is when she’s already speaking again. The situation has truly gone out of control. None of his siblings says a word no more. He cannot believe this is happening.

“I want both of you to be happy and responsible parents and we all know that you are not when you’re living together. If this will end in the same mess as last time, I…”

“Time to leave, mum.”

Joe interrupts her. Taylor has never heard him so angry and loud. For a second, it’s quiet. Taylor just remains sitting at the table, her face buried in her shaking hands. She’s never felt so offended by a person she once called her second mother.

“What..”

“This dinner is over. Please get up and leave.”

Taylor doesn’t say anything, feels like throwing up. She just sits there, covering her face with her shaky hands. And Joe has never felt so angry, never felt so embarrassed by his mother.

“I never meant to start this fight, Joe.” she says apologetic, seems to understand slowly that she’s taken it a step too far. But Joe is raging on the inside. She knows her son too well.

“Joe, why don’t we all just calm down for a second and..” Richard interrupts them now, trying to calm the fronts. But Joe is already standing up, pointing to the door at the end of the hallway.

“Taylor, I’m sorry. I genuinely want the best for both of you, and if you both want to work past this, then I hope that…”

“Please just stop.” Taylor says, her voice has clearly changed. She’s crying behind her hands. Joe knows that, as well as everyone else around this table.

“Please go home. Not tonight.” Joe says again, and it takes less than five minutes until the room is finally empty. All she can hear is Elizabeth arguing with Joe, and his brothers apologising for their mother. Everyone is mad at Elizabeth. Taylor feels that immediately, but it doesn’t make her feel better. As soon as the door closes behind them, Taylor gets up, walks past Eleanor who looks more than confused. Joe stands there in front of the door, looking as sorry as he could be.

“Tay, I..”

“Can you.. can you please give me a second?” she asks with teary eyes and shaky hands and has already made her way upstairs before he can say anything. With her heels on the carpet, she storms into the master bathroom of the house and locks the door.

“Daddy, where did they go?”

Joe just looks at a confused six year old in the living room. He slowly makes his way to her, then carefully knees down in front of the little girl.

“I think everyone was just really tired, my love. You’ll see grandma and grandpa tomorrow, okay? I promise.” he says apologetically. He can’t believe this happened a day before Christmas. But to Joe’s surprise, Eleanor just nods, places her little hand on his shoulder.

“Grandma doesn’t like that you live here.” she says, and Joe feels like he’s dreaming. Did she just say this?

“What?”

“Grandma was angry at mummy and you, right?”

Joe can’t believe how much the little girl has understood already. And it makes him even sadder, and a little bit more angry at his mum than before. He can’t believe she managed to ruin this holiday for everyone. Her granddaughter included.

“Come here.” Joe says then with a sigh, picks her up and sits down on the sofa in front of them with Eleanor on his lap.

“Grandma isn’t mad at us. She just remembers that mummy and me used to fight a lot when I was living in a house with you two, and she’s afraid that we might fight again, you know? Because she knows how much you hate it when mummy and me fight. And she loves you a lot.”

Eleanor looks at Joe, nods then, but seems confused still.

“I don’t want you and mummy to fight with grandma.”

Joe sighs again, his hand immediately landing on her little curly head. He gets closer to hear and kisses her head gently.

“I know. I promise it’ll be fine again. Don’t you worry about it. Mummy and me and grandma and grandpa, and Patrick and Tom… everyone in our family loves each other a lot. And sometimes when you care for each other, you fight. That’s normal.” he explains to her, hoping to make her feel at least a bit better right now.

“Can you live here when grandma is angry?”

Joe looks at the little girl in his arms with a smile. For the first time tonight. She looks anxious all of the sudden and it makes him understand how secure she must have felt these past days. With both him and Taylor being here. He understands now why it was always worth fighting for this. Because they’re a family. They really are.

“Of course I can. Nothing can stop me from being here with you and mummy. Because I love you soooo much.” he says quietly, showing Eleanor with both of his hands just how much he loves them. Eleanor giggles quietly and Joe pokes her tummy. He’s relieved that he could calm the little girl a bit.

“Are you excited for Santa Claus to sneak into our house tonight?” he asks and Eleanor nods with big eyes. “What if he won’t find us?” she asks with a worried look in her face. Joe smiles. “You’ve been so good this year. He will definitely find our house, don’t you worry.” he says again and kisses her head slowly.

____________

Joe confusedly wanders through the house. Eleanor is asleep in her bed now, after he successfully carried the sleepy girl upstairs and finally tucked her into her bed. After all, it’s past midnight now and no matter how excited she is for Christmas morning, she does need her sleep after all. Joe slowly opens the room to Taylor’s office but he doesn’t find her. He slowly closes the door again and makes his way up the stairs once more. After a few seconds he finds the door to the little balcony on the second floor open and spots a blonde woman with her puffy winter jacket on one of the metal chairs in the cold. She seems to have carved out snow from the chair, and just sits there with her glass of wine, staring into the dark. Joe swallows seeing her here like this. He carefully knocks against the balcony door before stepping outside to where she is. She just slowly turns around, doesn’t seem to mind him joining her.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” he says, welcomes Taylor wiping snow from the chair next to her with her puff jacket. He sits down next to her then. Doesn’t say anything for a second.

“I saw the open balcony door and thought Santa Claus found an alternative entryway to our house.”

Taylor looks at him, just smirks quietly. He hates to see her like this.

“Well..” he tries again, “At least we’ve had a nice and relaxing Christmas dinner with my family, don’t you think?”

This time, Taylor laughs quietly with him for a second. Joe slowly reaches for her hand in her jacket, and Taylor lets him hold her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Taylor.” he says then, and she turns her head to look at him. She’s cried before, and he knows that. He can see it on her puffy but dry eyes.

“Don’t..”

“No, I mean it. My mother was being impossible.”

“Well, she meant every word she said, so..”

“She’s impulsive. And rude. And already called me fifteen times tonight to apologise. I get that you…”

“Joe, I love you so much, it’s insane.” she then interrupts him, not facing him anymore. She just sits there in the dark, wearing her navy blue puff jacket and stares into the dark winter sky. Joe just looks at her, squeezes her hand once in disbelief. Almost as if he would have to reassure himself that what she said is real. That he’s not dreaming, or hallucinating.

“I know.” is all he gets out in this moment. The amount of happiness rushing through his veins indescribable. Taylor turns her head to look at him again. He has no idea where she’s going with this, but he likes it.

“I felt it the entire time, but when your mom started to talk us out of this tonight, I just.. I literally knew on a rational level that I want this as much as you do. And I don’t care what we did, or what happened in the past or whether.. whether people think we shouldn’t be together.”

Joe listens to her speech, and almost feels like he is getting a bit too emotional. It’s been a long time since he’s witnessed her so sure, so bold and confident about their love. It reminds him of who they were years ago. After having realised that they’re it. Love. Real love. And not the superficial idea of love they’ve experienced before each other.

“Tay, no one thinks that we shouldn’t..”

“I think we should get married.” she says then, looking at him.

Joe sits there, swallows.

“What?”

“I think we need to stop messing around and just.. face it.” she says, looking at him with tears in her eyes. Joe doesn’t know whether she’s saying this because she means it or whether this is Taylor being more than emotional tonight.

“Face it?” he asks with a shaky voice himself.

Taylor appreciates that he holds her hand in this moment, because she’s never felt dizzier. Dizzier by her own honesty and boldness. By the epiphany of her consciousness that this is Joe. It was always Joe. No matter if he broke her heart, or lived thousand of miles away from her. It was always Joe. Back then, and now.

“Us.” she says crying now, and Joe can’t help but pull her closer.

“We can always start over, right? Let’s just start over.” she says then and Joe pulls her into the tightest hug they’ve ever shared. She can feel his face pressed into her neck, feels the sensation of cold tears on her throat.

“Of course we can start over.” she hears a whisper in her neck. For a second, she closes her eyes again, feels herself sobbing slowly. Slowly but deeply. She almost feels like all the tears she held in for years, slowly find their way out. She’s not caring about the fact that her neighbours will be able to hear her. Instead, she just holds onto him, allows herself to release the pain and anger she’s held onto for so long.

“Of course we can always start over, my love. Always…”

Taylor tightens the grip around his neck, her hand holding onto his shoulder as if she was holding onto her life. She feels him sobbing, too. And it’s this moment that she knows she will always remember. She will always be able to remember this moment, even if it’s still happening, even if it hasn’t passed yet. Because in this moment, right in his arms, her life feels like it’s starting again despite it all.

#Christmasbound #joe and taylor #joe and taylor fanfiction #joe alwyn #taylor swift #taylor swift fanfiction #lovers #fanfiction #fanfic #Fanfic writer

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greyfrey3 · 1 year

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Runaway

Izuku leaves his village one morning, the intention in his heart pure and unwavering. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that it will be the last time he ever lays eyes on his home again.

No more early mornings under a sky painted in golds and pinks. No more sneaking out and borrowing a horse for an afternoon ride. No more evenings curled up, drinking thick stew to warm his bones. He can’t even bring himself to glance back one final time as he crests the hill that will block it from view. He is officially severing ties… forever.

“It’s better this way,” he murmurs quietly, wiping his eyes one last time.

There is a tradition in his village. It takes place after the first heavy snowfall, and is one that he has dreaded for years. The seer gathers all the children who have just come of age, and one by one, reveals the names of their soulmates.

It’s supposed to be fun. After all, a soulmate doesn’t necessarily have to be a lover—they can be a dear friend or relative, someone with whom an instant, deep connection exists. Many of the former children already sense their other half, and the seer is merely confirming what they already knew in their hearts.

For Izuku, however, it was a terrible experience.

“Are you certain?” he asked the seer quietly the evening prior. “Can you check again?”

“It’s Katsuki Bakugou,” she reiterated, brow furrowing. “It doesn’t matter how many times I read the bones, that’s who it is.”

“How?” Izuku whispered quietly. “He hates me. How could we possibly…”

“You’re not the first to express these types of concerns.” She settled a hand atop his. “Some soulmates just need time. If it makes you feel any better, your connection is the deepest I’ve seen in a long while. Your romance will be for the ages, I have no doubt.”

“R-romance!” Izuku choked, covering his rapidly heating face. “That can’t be! You’ve read it wrong!”

“Oh, dear.” She moved her hand to his cheek, patting consolingly. The sympathy didn’t last long. “I’m never wrong. Now get out, please, I still have to read the other’s.”

Izuku staggered out of her tent and then continued to stumble all the way to his own, head spinning as he came up with a plan. It was a death wish to flee by horseback at night, and through a snowstorm no less. But he used yesterday evening to pack the things that would help him survive, readying himself for a life of solitude.

After Katsuki learned the news, there was no way he would want Izuku to stay. He’d be furious, beyond disappointed that he was stuck with Stupid Deku forever. Izuku was doing them both a favor that morning when he slipped out of his home, and left for good.

He just isn’t prepared for how much it hurts as he descends the hill that cuts his village off from his sight. “I’ll find a new home. Far away. Maybe I can’t have a soulmate, but I’m not the first one who hasn’t.”

The first hours pass peacefully. From a young age, he’s been taught how to endure the cold. He’s dressed warmly enough and anticipates no trouble with his journey. But his youthful confidence wanes as the hours pass and he realizes just how difficult it is to wade through inches of snow. He longs for his horse, but knows it would be cruel to bring an animal along that’s not suited.

It’s slow work, but he makes decent progress. Then he starts to shiver. The cold has crept in deep, settling into his bones like an old friend who visits and never intends to leave. It makes Izuku’s jaw chatter, his entire body quaking. After a few more hours, he stops dreaming about stumbling upon a nearby village, and starts to question himself.

Why did he take off now? Why didn’t he wait until spring?

Even the thought of seeing Katsuki’s disappointed face isn’t so bad. Not when there’s a chance he might freeze to death.

When Izuku pulls the food out of his pack and sees that it’s iced over, he realizes he’s made a horrible mistake. His gaze drags towards the horizon, back the way he came. While snow no longer rides the wind, the gusts are getting stronger. Another storm is approaching.

Izuku abandons his plan of running away. It’s midday when he turns back. He won’t reach home before nightfall… But if he doesn’t stop moving, there’s a slim chance he’ll survive this, losing only a few fingers and toes in the process.

A handful of grueling hours later, he sees something. He’s not sure if he’s hallucinating, desperate for another soul to appear in this endless white landscape. He stares for a while at the black dot as it crawls towards him, unsure of whether or not to continue. It takes him too long to recognize the shape—a wolf, and a giant one at that.

Oh no, he thinks, dread gripping him tight. His mouth opens briefly in a silent scream before shutting tightly. Without thinking, and with energy he doesn't even know he had, he turns and runs. There’s a small chance he might survive and return to his village… but not if a hungry wolf gets ahold of him first.

He knows he’s fighting against certain death, that he literally has no chance of winning this. Even in ideal circumstances, he can’t take on a direwolf, let alone wrestling against one when he’s in snow up to his mid-calf. The wolf will down him before he starts to put up a fight, before—

“DEKU!”

Izuku spins and looks over his shoulder. No, there is no mistaking what he heard, and whose voice it rang out in. Katsuki is closing in fast, his direwolf hardly impeded by the drifts in its way.

Katsuki sounds angry.

Now Izuku’s running for a different reason.

When Katsuki is mad at him, Izuku knows the best course of action is to get away. It’s worked as a useful tool in the past, helping him to avoid any quarrels. Today, he has no shot. Katsuki and his wolf are at least five times faster than he is. After a few minutes of Izuku scrambling frantically, they cut him off, planting themselves directly in front of him.

“Deku, what the hell?!”

A strangled noise dies in Izuku’s throat. He scrambles to the side in a wild, desperate attempt to go around them. Katsuki snaps an order and the wolf grabs Izuku by his pack, suspending him in the air.

Katsuki dismounts and stomps in front of him. He commences shouting at the top of his lungs. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?! What kind of idiot heads out in a storm?! What was your stupid ass plan?! Are you suicidal or just a complete moron?!”

Izuku winces as he meets Katsuki’s furious gaze. If looks could kill, he’d be a ghost already. The wind kicks up again and he shudders.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow. The next shout is still angry, but there’s a touch of concern in it, too. “You’re done running, right?!”

Izuku nods dumbly.

Clicking his tongue loudly in annoyance, Katsuki growls out another order to his wolf. She obediently lowers Izuku to the ground. The blonde wastes no time, closing the distance between them immediately. He raises his hand and Izuku squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable slap to the face.

Instead, Katsuki brushes the snow from his hat and wipes the frost from his eyelashes. “You look half-dead,” he informs Izuku sourly. “You’ve got ice all over you. If I was any later finding you…”

“Wh-wh-why are y-y—”

“Save it.” Katsuki covers his mouth with his gloved hand. It’s a good thing he does because there’s a sharp ache in Izuku’s jaw when he talks.

The blonde helps him on the back of the direwolf. More gently than he’s come to expect from him, Katsuki wraps Izuku in some blankets. He also passes him a large mug of still-warm butter tea before he slides into place behind him.

“We’ll have to check your limbs when we get back. No telling what sort of damage you have, you absolute idiot,” he mutters bitterly, arms sliding around Izuku’s waist. “Hold on tight. Let’s go, Akela.”

Izuku doesn’t so much hold onto anything as he is secured in place. Katsuki is gripping him so tightly, he couldn’t fall off if he tried.

It takes a while to warm up enough to speak, and when he does, the first thing that falls out of Izuku’s mouth is an apology. “I’m s-sorry, Kacchan.”

“You should be,” he replies gruffly. “Can’t believe you just snuck off without saying a word.”

Izuku’s mouth, unseen beneath his neck gaiter, twists into a frown. “I kn-know I’m a d-disappointment. You don’t want to be s-soulmates—”

“What?” The arms around his waist squeeze the air out of Izuku’s lungs. “Who said I didn’t want to be soulmates?!”

Even though they’re moving, Katsuki shifts to the side so he can get a clear view of Izuku’s face. The expression he’s wearing is one of stunned disbelief.

“It always s-seemed like you hated me,” Izuku tells him plainly. That’s how he’s interpreted it, anyway.

Katsuki moves back, sinking into silence. The trip back to the village passes quickly and quietly. Izuku is hyper focused on the man behind him, but he gives nothing away until the village is almost within sight.

“I looked for you, you know,” Katsuki tells him, leaning forward to murmur directly into his ear. “You left immediately, so I thought you didn’t want me either… I decided to give you some space. Didn’t realize until a few hours ago that you ran away.”

Katsuki speaks so quietly it’s difficult to hear him over the howling wind. Still, Izuku concentrates with all he has. “I’ve never hated you. I just… don’t know how to express myself sometimes. I tend to push away the people I want to spend time with. The people I need the most. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Izuku thinks he understands, and if he manages to thaw sometime in the next few days, maybe he’ll work up the courage to talk to Katsuki about it.

“I was excited to hear the news that you’re my soulmate, Izuku. I know you probably can’t believe that. I was so happy,” he explains, his words heating up, impassioned. He pulls Izuku flush against him. “And then I was scared. Fucking terrified. Because you were gone.”

Izuku is having trouble processing it all. It’s everything he’s wanted since he first learned about soulmates and thought ‘I hope Kacchan is mine.’ That was almost twelve years ago, when he was four. After that, they faced hardship after hardship—it tore them apart, made him believe that Katsuki wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Despite that, never once did his heart waver.

Deep down, he always held onto that hope. Hope that Katsuki would remember how close they used to be. Hope that one day he would let Izuku through that wall he’d built up.

Hope that they would end up together, when all was said and done.

“You mean it?” he asks quietly. The question comes out shaky, like a newborn robin taking wing for the first time. The first sign of a warm spring to come, of that hope blossoming into something real.

“You make me happy, Izuku. I’m the luckiest in the world,” he breathes into Izuku’s ear. “And I’ll make it all up to you, okay? Starting now. So don’t… don’t run away again. I don’t think I could take it.”

“I won’t,” Izuku promises.

Katsuki pats Akela on the back once, urging her to move faster over that last hillcrest. “Let’s go warm you up.”

#bkdk winter au #bkdk #bkdkbk #dkbk #runaway #soulmates

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macarensesangles · 9 months

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Still on about this actually. a really important part of the way emet-selch loves is that i think he finds it kind of a frightening vulnerability and perhaps doubly so where mortals are concerned. loving a sundered being will inevitably end in disappointment for him — they die, he does not. one way to protect yourself from such loss is to stop making connections. but emet is the kind of person who becomes attached readily if he doesn’t watch himself, so he more than occasionally fails at this. it’s sort of subtly hinted in the game itself but i think the supplemental short story through his eyes more or less spells this out.

at the same time, it’s easier for emet to let go; mortals will always die, and a short time to him is a long time to everyone else. he’s prepared for any relationship to end before it’s even begun, and has probably already planned his metaphorical closing number.

this is directly contradictory, but given my other emet theories i think these two attitudes on loss are probably two different dissociative parts. VERY notable in that this more vulnerable and tender part of him seems to surface a bit prior to the fiasco at mt. gulg, but once that happens he IMMEDIATELY reverts to this defensive “well, can’t win em all, nice knowing you!” schtick. i think part of it is intentional (he wants to burn those bridges for a lot of reasons) and part of it is not.

in either case, the point is that love is a source of repeated pain for emet — ultimately loving people has led to traumatic losses for him, again and again and again. and as a character depicted at least with a dissociative sort of ambivalence and at most (in my opinion) full-blown OSDD, naturally he’s going to have a lot of defense mechanisms to try to anticipate and cope with another traumatic loss — mechanisms like refusing to get close, denial of those affections, and potentially even switching to another part that isn’t attached to the people he’s afraid of losing. he also displays a level of dissociative thinking in calling varis, for example, his body’s grandson rather than his own; even with the knowledge that he’s possessing solus and has been living that life for decades it strikes me as like. Pointedly and very blatantly a weird fucking thing to do unless you are predisposed to making these kinds of “it’s not MY relationship its [x other part’s]” kind of judgments

all this to say like. Clearly he does love very deeply when he loves. i would never argue that emet doesn’t love wol to the ends of the earth and back, platonically or otherwise. he has a level of love for them that is incomprehensible and the force of it is skull-exploding. but it hurts him to admit, and on top of that he’s kind of erratic and mercurial bc he’s a dissociative, so he can only express it in extremely roundabout ways

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riahlynn101 · 1 year

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"Waiting in the Aftermath" (5).

Trigger warning: Implied/referenced child abuse

Chapter 5

Inko wakes with a start. Her dreams are a blur of red, slipping away as she catches her breath. Out of motherly instinct, she looks towards where she remembers Izuku falling asleep. Their crying session exhausted them both, and they wound up on falling asleep on the bed.

It reminded her of the simpler times when her baby boy was, well, an actual baby. As sensitive as he is now (no thanks to her genes), he was a whole lot worse as a toddler and young child. Something as simple as hearing a loud noise, or seeing a fly be swatted could and often would send him into whole body hysterics. And this isn’t even mentioning the phase he went through at the age of two.

But when she looks, he isn’t there. The bed is rumpled, telling Inko that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Which doesn’t make her feel better. That just means her son was here, and her husband likely took him somewhere else.

She loves her husband. Wouldn’t have married him and had his child otherwise. But something has always felt decidedly “off” about him. She’s ignored it, tamping down her feelings of wrongness for the one thing she had always wanted. A family.

She loves her son even more. Not because he’s her blood, or because she spent years upon years spending every waking moment with him. But because, when Inko looks at him, she sees everything good in the world. She feels a fierce need to be better, to do better. For their son.

And maybe that’s something all parents feel. She herself never had any parents, being relegated to an orphanage all her childhood.

Either way, her son’s still missing…again. And she almost hates herself for having to tack on: again, like it’s a daily occurrence. Like it’s normal, but it isn’t. It shouldn’t be.

She straightens her clothes, wrinkled from sleeping.

Inko already has three separate murder plans, two of which include the use of her quirk, to kill her husband if he’s done anything to Izuku. She would hope Hisashi would know better, and he’s always been fairly overly protective of her and Izuku. But it never hurts to be prepared.

If he makes her childless; she’ll make herself a widow.

Equivalent exchange and all that.

Hisashi should be proud. Afterall, he’s the one that taught her that.

-x-x-x-

There’s something remarkable in the way All for One speaks. Slow and methodical, monotonous but not boring. It draws you in. It’s different from the one he uses when speaking to his mother and him. That one’s less drawn out, more excitable like a child on Christmas.

Izuku sits hunched over, staring at his hands that are half-hidden away in an oversized sweatshirt (to his disappointment it has nothing to do with All Might and just has the words: University of Tokyo on the front). If his heart was beating any faster, he’s sure everyone would be able to hear it. That’s if All for One doesn’t already have some kind of supersonic hearing quirk (which it’s safe to assume he does).

“And that brings up to now. Well, almost .”

He hears Shigaraki grumble. “I don’t see why I’m needed here. I’ve already made great headway with dispatching the heroes back at U.A.”

Izuku tenses up. He snaps his head in Shigaraki’s direction. Righteous fury fills his veins, heating him up from the inside out. Standing he points a shaky finger at him. “What do you mean by ‘dispatching.’”

Shigaraki’s eyes look between All for One and Izuku, searching for something. Finally he focuses solely on him, returning Izuku’s burning gaze with a lackadaisical expression. He leans back even further in his seat, sending Izuku a smug smile.

“Dispatch: a verb that has three possible meanings.” He speaks slowly, drawing out each syllable. In a way it reminds Izuku of All for One’s manner of speaking, except his way is more reminiscent of an older sibling poking and prodding their younger sibling until they snap. “One, to send off to a destination, or for a purpose. Two, to deal with a task, problem, or opponent quickly and efficiently. And three….” Shigaraki trails off, smile growing.

“Tomura,” All for One warns. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. ”

Izuku’s hackles are raised. One for All crackles just underneath his skin, ready for use. He ignores the voices of his predecessors trying to calm him down, just as Shigaraki ignores his own master’s voice.

“And three, to kill .”

Izuku isn’t exactly sure what happened next, only that he lunged for Shigaraki.

He remembers grabbing him by the collar, being mindful to avoid his hands, and shaking him.

He remembers Shigaraki mentioning something about Kacchan being unresponsive. Dead.

Izuku remembers very little after that.

-x-x-x-

Tomura groans. The little hero brat packs a punch, that’s for sure. He holds an ice pack up to his nose - thankfully it’s not broken, but it is badly bruised. If he had known the brat would take his taunt so hard, he wouldn’t-

He tries not to laugh. Yeah, he would have. Despite the pain from the bruises, it had been well worth it to set Midoriya off.

He’s missed the feralness. The completely unhinged look before he lunges for Tomura’s neck. The one he saw on the battlefield through Sensei’s eyes. The one that tried to save him in the vestige realm.

It’s easier to deal with that version versus the meek, timid one.

He looks at that one and sees a kid. A kid that shouldn’t be anywhere near a battlefield, let alone the frontlines.

He sees someone that, if things were different, he might have become his friend, or, er, mentor (he always forgets they have a significant age gap between them).

They sit side-by-side in the infirmary, which is really just the exact spot he woke up from. The only thing separating the infirmary from the rest of the doctor’s laboratory is a thin curtain.

Midoriya’s hands are tucked into his sweater, and in retrospect, they had been through the entirety of their fight. His eyes are glazed over, as if he’s out of it. Tomura’s been there before.

He watches Sensei talk to Dr.Garaki.

It couldn’t hurt to talk to the brat. As much as he feels anger at his master for using him, most of that doesn’t translate to Midoriya. At least for right now, things can always change.

He nudges Midoriya with his elbow. “Hey, kid.”

“What?”

“What’s with the sweatshirt?”

“Nothing,” the brat grumbles, pouting.

“Y’know if you didn’t have your hands covered with your sweatshirt while fighting, you would have won?”

“I know.” He shifts, crossing his arms (is he supposed to take his pouting seriously?) “You didn’t actually kill anyone, right?”

“Oh, I’ve killed hundreds of people. I am a supervillain, so…”

“I mean today.”

“Technically, no.” He scratches at his neck. “All for One was mostly in control. And if you’re worried about your friend with an explosive temper, he’s fine. Probably.”

Midoriya breathes a sigh of relief, uncrossing his arms. “I keep forgetting you were controlled by the All for One quirk. I’m truly sorry, Shigaraki.”

He snorts, dismissing his apology with a wave of his hand - the one not missing three fingers. “Why?”

At that, Midoriya reverts to staring down at his sweatshirt-covered hands.

Tomura scoffs. “Will you stop that?” He yanks one of Midoriya’s hands free from the sweatshirt, holding it with four fingers. “You’re being ridiculous-”

His eyes lock on the hole in the center of the brat’s palm. The telltale sign of the All for One quirk. He drops Midoriya's hands.

He sputters. “You have All for One!”

“No, that’s not-”

Sensei is immediately in front of them, an unreadable expression on his face. “Boys,” he starts, “what’s going on?”

Tomura grits his teeth. His mind races with a million different questions, namely: was he not good enough?

This wouldn’t be the first time Sensei’s thought so. His father thought so, too, at least he acted like it. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore. It shouldn’t hurt so much.

But it does.

He listens idly as the little brat stumbles his way through an explanation.

“We were…uh…messing around.”

“Messing around…?”

Tomura gives the kid a sideways look. Why is he covering for him? There’s really no reason either. Sensei has never cared if he threw a tantrum before (and this one’s more mild than his previous ones). Unless…..

…..unless he knows something Tomura doesn’t.

“Yes, we were messing around, and he saw my hands. I think he’s just confused.”

Something that is starting to cement the fact that Sensei holds him and Midoriya in vastly different categories-of which are probably labeled: traumatized children I picked up off the street, and my precious, only child, respectively-is the way he looks at the kid. His gaze is softer, as if Midoriya can do no wrong. Like he….loves him.

“Oh, I see,” Sensei says in a voice that makes it clear he doesn’t believe a word. “Well, Tomura-” The minute he turns his head to look at him, the soft, fatherly look disappears. “-I was going to explain that in my office before you provoked him.”

Tomura opens his mouth, ready to defend his mouth, because Sensei’s being entirely unfair-

“You’re being entirely unfair.”

He shuts his mouth.

Midoriya brows are furrowed. “I should have controlled my temper better. How can I be a hero if I go around attacking people just because they taunt me?”

Sensei hums. “No matter who was in the wrong, I do think it would be wise to explain further.”

-x-x-x-

Hisashi is one hundred percent aware of what his son is doing. Yoichi used to do the same thing for him, protecting him in his own weak way against their domineering mother and alcoholic father.

But then that begs the question: does his son think he’ll hurt Tomura?

He means, he would and has done so in the past. But Tomura has likely learned from this incident. It still hurts though, the way his son looks at him. Like he needs to placate Hisashi to protect…..

He swallows, forcing himself to suppress his childish fears.

( Just like dad, eh? What’s next? Going to hit your son while he begs you to stop? Going to lay hands on your wife?)

Both boys look at him, expectantly.

He takes a seat in a large swivel chair. “I already told you about my brother and I, of how One for All came to be, and the feud that’s nine generations long now. However, I failed to mention some pretty important details.”

“Such as?” Tomura presses.

“Such as why I’m telling you any of this. You see, my wife is-”

The door is kicked open. It hits the wall with a deafening bang, startling even him. For a brief second he fears the heroes have found them, and then he sees something that makes him wish it was the pesky heroes.

“Hisashi!” His wife shouts, a slipper in her hand. With her other hand, she uses her quirk of attraction to practically strangle the doctor, keeping him hostage.

“S-sorry, Sensei,” he wheezes out.

“Where’s our son!?”

#mha fanfiction #mha #mha inko #mha afo #all for one izuku #izuku mydoria #inko is a shimura #shigaraki tomura #mha dfo #mha au #cross posted on ao3

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sunascumdoll · 3 years

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𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ x ᴍᴇɪᴀɴ x ʜɪɴᴀᴛᴀ x ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ x ꜱᴀᴋᴜꜱᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (ᴍᴅɴɪ 18+)

ᴡᴄ: 3.4ᴋ

ᴛᴡ// ʙʀɪᴇꜰ ᴅᴜʙᴄᴏɴ/ɴᴏɴᴄᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ, ᴍᴇᴀɴ!ᴍꜱʙʏ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ɪᴍʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʜᴀᴛᴇ ꜱᴇx, ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴍ, ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪꜱᴍ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜᴜᴍɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜰɪʟᴍɪɴɢ, ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ, ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀɴʜᴀɴᴅʟɪɴɢ, ᴏʀᴀʟ (ꜰ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴘᴇɴᴇᴛʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴀʟ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ꜱQᴜɪʀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ꜱᴘɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ꜱᴜʙꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴇɢɢɪɴɢ. ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ!

ᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

A/N: mean!msby has my pussy fucking throbbing! i feel like this is reay rushed but i wanted to something done, so i hope you really enjoy despite how kinda.. shitty this is.

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜQ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ | ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ

24-25.

the game finally concluded with the scoreboard reading 24-25. the boys have been training for days, weeks, preparing for this game. for the past few weeks, they have been giving it their all, heavy breathing, sweating bodies running and colliding onto the hard gym floor, and despite all their efforts, it was still not enough.

you could see the pain, anger, and disappointment plastered on their faces. you sigh, your knuckles turning a lighter shade as you grip the clipboard before calling all of msby over to the side of the court. the sound of shoes squeaking against the waxed floors pierces your ears as they surround you, the usual happy cheers replaced with deep sighs and a daunting silence.

“don’t feel so down, guys, you did amazing!” you chirp, “we just need to train a little harder!”

no response. no amount of praise or cheerful smiles could grant the reaction you were looking for. “come on, guys! we’ll get them next time!” you utter as you reach up and ruffle your fingers through atsumu’s damp hair. he huffs and jerks his head away, brown eyes narrowing to glare down at you. he’s pissed, beyond pissed, and given the expression on the faces of the others, the feeling is mutual. you feel defeated, useless. what kind of manager couldn’t cheer up their team? your shoulders slump as you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth and nod your head towards the gym doors, “let’s head to the bus, guys.”

the walk to the bus is long and disconcerting. you could feel the negative energy of your team wafting off of them and swallowing you whole. and it only got worse as you exited through the double doors and past the whining team. the jovial cheers of the other team seemed only to drop the morale of MSBY even more. that’s supposed to be them cheering, celebrating, but instead, they’re dealing with the burning pain of losing.

scuffing shoes drag along the concrete and stop just outside the door of the bus. you pull the doors open and usher the boys inside, you following right behind them. you stand at the front of the bus timidly, your pointer finger and thumb fiddling with the hem of your shirt. your throat felt dry.

“i’m sorry you guys did-”

“sorry doesn’t cut it. we weren’t as prepared as we needed to be, and it’s all your fault,” atsumu sneers.

you tense from atsumu’s harsh words and swallow the lump in your throat. he was right; they weren’t as prepared as they needed to be, and you did feel responsible, but that didn’t make his words hurt any less. you glance around the bus, shrinking back a bit at the intense stares before clearing your throat, “can i help you guys feel better? maybe i could take you all to dinner at your favorite restaurant?”

“no,” kiyoomi abruptly interrupts, “we’ve all already decided what you can do to make us feel better.”

you tilt your head in confusion, eyes squinting in concern as you stare at kiyoomi's darkened eyes. you open your mouth to speak only to pant when a massive hand grabs the back of your neck and forces you to your knees. surprised orbs widen, your body trembling as you turn your head to see who was responsible for knocking you over. another hand grips onto your chin and forces you to look forward, and before you can register what’s happening, a thick cock pushes past your lips.

tiny little hands reach up to grab onto a pair of muscly thighs, fingernails digging into them as a cock invades your throat.

“ah~, at least you’re good for something. take it down further,” kiyoomi gripes.

you hum, watery eyes locked on the thick curly-haired man as he forces your head further down his cock. he was so rough with you, thick fingers entangled at the root of your hair, dragging you along the length of his cock. low growls deep within his chest get caught in his throat when he pushes your head further down his cock and holds it there, clearly amused with how you spittle and gag all over his cock.

teary eyes that are focused on kiyoomi shift to another figure that’s quickly approaching. shoyo happily bounces over to you, an oddly sinister smile replacing his usual cheery one. the orange-head slips two fingers into the waistband of your tracksuit pants and tugs them down your legs. he hisses, his big brown eyes glued to the giant wet stain that sat in the middle of your panties. shoyo cups your clothed cunt and runs his digits along your slit, collecting the oozing slick that drips from your underwear.

“you like being mistreated like this?” he mocks in a disapproving tone, “is that why you trained us so poorly? in hopes that we’d take our anger out on you? fucking pathetic.”

your core flutter at his words, your already damp pussy growing even damper. shoyo was such a sweetheart, always speaking words of encouragement, but hearing him utter such filth has your mind going foggy. or was it kiyoomi’s cock invading your throat that was making you feel this way?

you’re pulled from your daze when you feel a pair of rough hands tear your panties to shreds. your thighs clench as you whimper against kiyoomi’s cock, feeling highly exposed to everyone on the bus. you squirm and try to pull away, only for kiyoomi to grab each side of your head and hold it steady while he begins fucking into your throat.

“keep my cock in your fucking throat until i tell you otherwise,” he sneers, “dumb whores like you aren’t capable of making decisions on their own.”

shoyo grabs onto your waist and positions you so you’re squatting down on the balls of your feet. he lays on his back and positions his face right above your arousal-coated pussy, groaning when his face collides with your cunt.

plump lips attach to your clit and suck harshly. shoyo’s tongue lulls out of his mouth, the wet muscle gliding between your folds before prodding at your hole. the warmth radiating from shoyo’s mouth makes you jolt and grind yourself onto his face, ultimately impaling yourself on his tongue. a satisfied moan escapes from shoyo as he pushes his face deeper into your cunt and shakes his head from left to right, smearing your nectar. one of his hands holds you down on his face by your waist, the other wrapping around his engorged cock..

slurping, gagging and grunting echoes off the walls of the bus as kiyoomi and shoyo use you as they see fit. kiyoomi is cruel, occasionally plugging your nose to watch you struggle on his veiny cock, while shoyo is happily drowning in your juices, chin glistening in your cream, and hips eagerly grinding into the air. shoyo grumbles against your cunt, before lifting you off his face and repositioning you to hover over his cock.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, throat constricting around kiyoomi’s length as shoyo plunges his cock deep within your core.

“that’s a good fucking girl. go ahead and ride daddy's cock.”

“mmm~,” your mouth releases kiyoomi’s shaft with a smack, your hand quickly taking its place, “s-sho! oh god, sho!”

drool drips from your chin down to your chest as you begin bouncing on shoyo’s cock. his hands reach up to grope at your bouncing mounds of flesh. he takes his thumb and forefinger and starts pulling and kneading at your perky nipples. your thighs were beginning to burn, the muscles growing tired as you resumed bouncing up and down shoyo’s cock. the movement of your hips starts to slow as the dull ache in your legs becomes more painful. the orangette firmly plants his feet into the floor of the bus and begins slamming his hips up into yours.

“tired already? i got you, baby doll. just sit there and look pretty on my cock, okay?”

your mouth finds its way back around kiyoomi’s dick. the raven-haired boy has his eyes glued to your face, admiring the way your warm tongue wrapped and twirled around his delicate tip. he begins fucking into your mouth once, your choking and constricted throat hastily bringing him to his breaking point.

“fuck. gonna cum in this pretty little mouth of yours!”

with a few more sloppy pumps, you feel a salty warm liquid spread across the surface of your tongue and down your throat. shoyo’s moans pierce your ears from down below. his eyebrows furrow, the skin on his forehead crinkling as he focuses on thoroughly fucking you. his cock twitched and jumped within your walls. the precum that began to pool within you would soon be replaced with his potent seed. shoyo’s grip on your waist tightens. he starts using his arm strength to lift you up and down his shaft manually. he lets out a grunt and drops you back down to the base of his pelvis, holding you firmly as he shoots his seed deep within you.

cum spills from your lips and drips from your cunt. your legs were shaking, and your body ached. how are you supposed to handle the rest of the team? were they to use you next? as if they heard every little thought that racked through your brain, atsumu and kotarou scurry over to your trembling body.

you were like a ragdoll to these men. they were so strong, muscular, and you were so frail compared to them. atsumu grabs your hips and picks you up, allowing kotarou to replace shoyo’s spot. you gulp and look down at kotarou’s cock. it's standing tall and proud, leaking pre-cum, and twitching eagerly to feel your velvety walls.

“don’t just stand there and stare. sit.” atsumu instructs. his hands trail from your waist to your shoulders, nails digging into your shoulders before pushing you back down to your knees. you yelp, your hands colliding with kotarou’s broad chest to keep you still.

“ ‘m s-sorry ko.”

“sh, i don’t want to hear you speak. only open your mouth to moan. now put my cock in your pussy..”

you sniffle and nod. kotarou was always the nicest to you. he’s always going out of his way to make you feel welcome, to make you laugh, and feel comfortable. that kotarou is gone. this one is focused on one thing and one thing alone: breeding. you get onto your tippy toes and reach down to grip the base of his cock and slip only the tip in. kotarou chuckles darkly as his rough veiny hands rub up your thighs and grip onto your hips.

“don’t make me angrier. put. it. in,” he sneers through clenched teeth, “all of it.”

“ ‘m putting it in, ko, promise!” you whine out.

your legs were beginning to shake from holding yourself up. you deeply exhale and slowly sink further down kotarou’s cock, taking only a few more inches within your sloppy cunt. kotarou grows impatient and digs his fingertips into your hips, hard enough to bruise, before pulling you down and stuffing you with dick all at once. kotarou’s cock was thick, a bit thicker than shoyo’s, and the difference is unquestionably noticeable. the force of kotarou snapping his hips and splitting you open leaves you breathless, gasping for air. your already weak legs finally give out, causing you to collapse on top of him.

“i only put it in, baby, and you’re out of breath. shit, you’re squeezing me so tight already. how is this pretty little cunny going to handle me when i start fucking you, hm?” he questions as his hands trail down to grope the plumpness of your ass, slapping it harshly, before prying your cheeks apart. “sit still and relax, you gotta make room for tsumu.”

your body jolts from the sudden sting on your bottom, your pussy clenching around kotarou in response. your head slowly turns to look behind you, ____ orbs landing on the golden-haired man. his tresses stick to his forehead, held in place by the coat of sweat that covered his entire body. atsumu has his hand wrapped around his cock, his fisting eagerly pumping his cock and prepping it to fit into nice and snug in your puckering hole. a wad of spit flies past his moist lips and lands on the tip of his enlivened cock. he quickly smears it over his shaft before dropping to his knees and fitting himself behind you. his hands replace kotarou’s and spread your ass a bit further apart. he lets drool collect inside of his mouth before sticking the pink muscle out of his mouth and allowing a string of saliva to dribble over your asshole. his hand shakily grips the base of his cock, steadying his pulsating member before guiding over half of himself inside you.

“ah, fuuck~! you gotta, shit, you gotta relax, or i won’t fucking fit,” he murmurs.

your body feels numb. you’re still trying to adjust to the size of kotarou. how were you going to take atsumu as well? atsumu hisses once more as he slowly begins thrusting into you. with each roll of his hips, his shaft finds itself deeper within your ass. the tempo started slow, allowing you to adjust and get used to the feeling of two of your holes being plugged at once.

that oh so slow tempo quickly grew faster. atsumu’s bruising grip held your hips steady, his eyes locked on the way your ass shakes each time it comes in contact with his pelvis. kotarou’s toes dig into the ground, his thick muscular thighs tensed as he fucks up into your cunt.

pleasure’s beginning to take over you. you’re unable to think straight; all you can focus on is the two cocks currently ravaging your insides. your nails dig into kotarou’s chest, piercing the skin as you begin pushing back against their dicks, matching up with their thrusts.

“that’s right, baby. keep fucking yourself on my cock.” atsumu whimpers.

shoyo approaches you once more and stands over kotarou, positioning his glistening cock right in front of your lips, “clean my cock, too.”

your mouth opens wide and wraps around shoyo’s shaft, the flavor of your cunt immediately overpowering your taste buds. your head bobs quickly, your throat squelching as you clean your slick from shoyo’s cock. the grinding of your hips picks up, causing the other two men to groan and moan in unison. that all too familiar feeling builds in the pit of your stomach, your creamy juices growing milkier; you’re about to cum.

“good fucking girl. look at you, taking three cocks at once. you enjoying yourself?” kotarou moans.

you nod desperately, your nails dig deeper into kotarou’s pecs, leaving crescent-shaped indents in the supple skin. your muscles grow tenser, each passing second bringing you closer and closer to your well-deserved orgasm. despite your fatigue, the relentless pace you set does not falter. the growing tension in your belly releases, your arousal flooding out and soaking the two men between you.

a collective groan can be heard as they fuck you through your orgasm and chase after their own. simultaneously, a familiar warmth fills your holes to the brim and leaks out, adding to the mess you made.

you collapse onto the bus floor; chest pressed flush against the flooring and ass in the air. you’re utterly fucked out, cum and slick dripping from each of your holes. your glossy eyes scan over the members' faces; kiyoomi, shoyo, atsumu, and kotarou. who’s next? meian sits quietly in the corner, watching each of his teammates thoroughly use and abuse your holes the entire time. his right hand rests atop of his thigh, slowly stroking along his growing shaft.

your orbs land on the rather beefy captain. your hands reach around to grab onto your ass, spreading it open and exposing your holes to him. you slightly sway your hips from left to right, trying your best to entice the intimidating middle blocker.

“ ‘m sorry, meian. i-i did my best.” you choke out.

meian tsks and gets up from his seat, his large build slowly stalking towards you. his thick fingers hook onto the band of his shorts and tug them down his toned legs, kicking them off to the side when they bunch around his ankles. he drops onto his knees and roughly grips your hips. he leans down to spit on his cock before plunging into you, hissing at how warm and tight you feel around him. you sharply inhale, choking on both air and spit as he splits you open. your legs begin to tremble, growing weaker and weaker by the second. meian hasn’t even started moving, and you’re already a mess. his cock is thicker, heavier than all the others. meian snaps his hips forward, groaning as your pussy clamps down around you.

“meian, please! give me a second!” you moan out, your cunt fluttering around him.

your plea went in one ear and out the other. his hips snap forward once, setting a steady pace to plunge in your core. he’s ruthless, your moans and pleas for mercy egging him on. meian had been the quietest one ever since you left the gym, yet undoubtedly the angriest of them all.

“when i came to you, i thought you’d be helpful. i thought you’d be beneficial to the team. but it seems your only purpose is to be a little breeding ground for us. is that what you wanted?” he spits and digs his thumbs into your lower back, dragging you back along his cock.

you can’t help but sob and claw at the flooring on the bus as his balls slap against your swollen pussy lips. his cock is stretching you deliciously, and each thrust of his hips is knocking the wind out of you. slick and leftover cum from the previous members smear and stick to the inside of your thighs.

“i’m so so-”

“shut up. you worked us for days on end, and we fucking lost. i don’t want to hear anything coming from that mouth of yours. understood?” he grits.

a sense of submission washes over you, and you obey obediently. the bus falls silent other than your moans and the sound of wet skin slapping together. the others are sitting in their seats, curiously watching and stroking their cocks as their captain has his way with you.

meian pulls his cock from your cunt and watches as your pretty little hole pulsates and clamps down on nothing. his strong arms snake underneath your legs, hooking onto the back of your knees. his hands meet at the back of your neck, interlocking his fingers as he puts you in a full nelson, “go ahead, put my cock back in.”

you shakily reach down and grab hold of his slimy dick, pushing it back into your tight pussy. meian’s hands push down on your neck a bit, forcing you to watch his hefty cock split you open. atsumu grabs his phone from his bag and opens up his camera. the familiar ding of the video camera starting fills the atmosphere. he points the camera down to his red-tipped cock before pointing the camera at you. he zooms in on your fucked out face and then down to where you and meian are connected.

“look at the camera, baby, and apologize. properly.”

“i’m sorry for disappointing you ah~ all! ‘m so sorry!”

meian hums in approval and continues to thrust into your sloppy pussy. his legs buckle, and his hips stutter. he lets out deep groans as your weeping middle milks him for all he's worth. meian’s thigh muscles tense, and abs flex as his cock pumps one final load of semen into your womb. cum drips from the sides of your spread lips and down the captains' shaft. he rolls his hips a few more, pushing some of his cum back into your sweet honeypot before lifting you off entirely and facing you towards the camera.

atsumu zooms in on your pulsating pussy and focuses on the copious amount of cum dribbling from your stretched hole. he discards his phone and drops to his knees, slowly crawling over to you. his thick pink muscle protrudes past his lips and licks a long stripe between your puffy pussy lips.

"good girl," he murmurs, "let's get you cleaned up."

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