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seresinhangmanjake · 4 months

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Only For You

Thorn x female!reader

Summary: Thorn hides a huge part of his life from you and he's constantly leaving for long periods of time. You're not sure you'll ever know all of his secrets, but you know you're tired of saying goodbye.

Notes/warnings: angsty/fluffy, but nothing else really. mistakes, I'm sure. I did my best.

Words: 1354

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“Going where?” you ask, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to shield your bare skin from the cold. He shrugs out of his nylon, sorry-excuse-for-a-coat and wraps it around your shoulders, but it’s a useless effort. In a thin t-shirt, he’ll be frozen in no time and you’ll be left to trade the coat back and forth as he stands on your front porch in the winter’s stinging air.

His hands slide into his jeans front pockets. “I can’t tell you.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

With a huff, you ask, “What do you know, Thorn?”

He flinches. A hand comes out of his pocket to run over his buzzed hair. You can’t count how many times you’ve asked him these questions, and you kick yourself for bothering when the answers have not once strayed from their cookie-cutter precision. He never knows. Or he does and refuses to tell you. Wherever the truth lies, it doesn’t make its way to you. But the hurt in his mossy-green eyes is not for the secrets. It’s not for the disappearing act he forces you through. It’s reserved solely for the brand new weariness in your tone.

This is not what you do. Your pattern with him has been consistent from the beginning. A month after he first kissed you, three weeks after you first slept together, you received the same pieced-together speech: ‘I have to leave. I can’t tell you why. I don’t know for how long.’ And you provided the same response you always do; a response you weren’t aware at the time would be commonly leaving your mouth; a response he’s not once requested, but with every feature of his face, pleads for: ‘I’ll be here when you get back’. Then he smiles, as always, and kisses you, and you pull him into your bed only for him to be gone by the time you wake.

But you just broke the pattern with that tone of yours. It’s less welcoming, offering inadequate reassurance that when he knocks on your door in one or two or three months it’ll open.

Thorn swallows hard as he fidgets in place, and you feel tendrils of guilt spread throughout your system. Thorn doesn’t fidget. Fidgeting means nerves. Nerves mean anxiety. And anxiety is not a well-worn jacket on the man who weaseled his way into your heart. It doesn’t fit. That jacket isn’t made in his size and it feels no different than when a toddler is squeezed into an outfit their parents refuse to accept they’ve grown out of.

“What I know is that I want to come back to you,” he says. A beat passes and the cloud of nervous energy is shoved aside, likely a required skill for whatever the hell he does when he leaves you. He steps closer. Your heart beats harder. “I will walk up here and knock on this door and wait for you to let me in. Like I always do.”

Lips parting, you sink further into the scent of cologne that long ago seeped into the interior fibers of his coat. It’s an instinctual comfort while everything inside of your body fights your mind.

Fingers twitch to reach out and jerk him inside, but if you do that there’s no chance you’ll resist him; no chance you will even make it to your bed. With one foot through the door, he’ll have you against the wall or on the floor with the hallway runner serving as the only barrier between your back and the chill of the hardwood. With his tongue on your neck, you will forget how tired you are of his rollercoastering in and out of your life. His fingers digging into your flesh will crack your icy determination to no longer miss him until it’s a melted puddle beneath you. His cock deep inside of you will demand you let go of letting him go.

Well, it’ll demand you let go of considering letting him go. It’s not what you want. If you had your pick of clichéd happy endings, your wicked-smart, tattooed-up, former—you question—criminal would settle in with you. But, no matter how hard you try, you can’t form that image in your mind. Thorn with a ring on his finger, you with his baby growing in your belly, a house you can share—if that exists somewhere, you’re losing hope that it’s on your timeline.

“Thorn, how long is this going to last?”

“I told you, I don’t—”

“No,” you interrupt with a shake of your head. “Not just this time. All of it. When does it stop? When do you stay?”

His shoulders slump the slightest with his heavy sigh. “Sweetness, I made promises. I’ve got people relying on me.”

“And what about me? What am I supposed to do?” you ask, praying the struggle of holding back your tears has slipped under his radar despite that not being a possibility before. The only tears Thorn doesn’t catch are the ones he isn’t around to witness. “What if I left you all the time for reasons I refused to tell you about? You couldn’t find me, you couldn’t contact me, you didn’t know if I was safe, you wouldn’t be able to sleep wondering if I might be dea—”

“Stop!” he snaps, then quieter, repeats, “Stop.” His eyes fall from yours to the stone of your porch and enough seconds pass that there’s an awkwardness to the silence. “I would lose my mind if it was you, Ok?” he says, connecting to your stare. “I’d go fucking crazy.”

“And somehow you expect me not to.”

His hands move to cup your face, thumbs stroking back and forth over your cheekbones. “I don’t expect anything of you, sweetness. I can't, because it wouldn't be fair. But it doesn't change the truth that you don’t leave my thoughts. When I'm gone, every free second I have is spent thinking about coming home to you.”

Except coming home often means adding to your worries. There’s not one instance in the time you’ve known him that he has returned to you without bruises at every stage of healing scattered across his body. But you don’t speak of them. Neither do you speak of the split lip, cut eyebrow, sliced skin, and the worst of them: the hole in his arm that was shoddily stitched up, leaving a permanent reminder of the secret life he keeps from you.

Often, when he is asleep, you run your finger over the raised skin, simultaneously thankful that he made it back from such an ordeal and cursing that he left to begin with. Then, from the twisted mess those feelings cause in your head, you find that your pain at seeing him hurt always develops a branch of anger.

Despite all of the blows you know he takes, you're not quick enough to stop yourself from throwing one of your own. “Assuming you’ll be able to come home at all…right?”

His eyes widen before they squeeze shut. Sharp jawline sharpens more as teeth clench. Thorn takes a deep breath, then proves that his forehead resting against yours is all it takes for your anger to fizzle.

Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you finally allow the tears to spill. They pour with abandon, overwhelming you the way a tidal wave might overtake a small ship in its ocean.

“I know whatever you do is stupidly dangerous,” pushes through your sudden sobs and sniffles.

“That’s why I don’t tell you what it is,” he whispers as his nose nudges yours. “But I’m careful, sweetness. I’m careful because of you.”

Your lips freeze from the tears that reach them. The salty liquid under the chilled air bleeds away all moisture until his mouth claims a kiss. Not soft, not sweet, but beautifully burning. And from that burn, you find your calm. From familiarity, you find peace. From him, you find home.

When you separate, your breaths form a puff of heat that shoves away the cold. “I won’t let you down,” he promises. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

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A/N: there is very likely going to be a part 2 to this, assuming people would want to read it.

tags: @wkndwlff @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @mamachasesmayhem @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl

#thorn expendables 3 #glen powell #glen powell fic #glen powell fanfiction #thorn expendables #the expendables #the expendables fic #the expendables 3 #thorn x reader #glen powell thorn

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19burstraat · 5 months

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anyone want to hear my six of crows x jane austen's emma au. yes of course you do don't be silly. the only person allowed to be silly is me as I descend into madness in the course of trying to cast this. (if you think 'I've heard this before' yes I've posted abt it before tho I think it was on my main)

kaz is emma, a bored, overintelligent rich bitch stuck in a country house with a bunch of shit idiot neighbours and almost no one to entertain or match him. fucking useless dad per haskell / mr woodhouse is a weaksauce hypochrondriac, and jordie / isabella has gone and got married and ditched kaz, the bastard. the only consolation is their neighbour inej / mr knightley, who is rich, sensible, popular, and elegible as hell... glory be, an intellectual equal for kaz!

in order to be less bored, kaz takes on a protege, mysterious randomer and natural son wylan / harriet smith, who kaz decides to mould in his own image and make a good match for. wylan is in love with gentleman farmer jesper / robert martin, but kaz is a snob and tries to push him towards local vicar kuwei / mr elton (I KNOW. I'M SORRY KUWEI), but that all goes tits up bc turns out kaz is a fucking terrible matchmaker, who'd've known.

meanwhile, unassuming and a little cold, but locally well-liked matthias / jane fairfax has arrived back in the village, and kaz busily commences hating on him because he's another accomplished young man and he makes him feel inadequate. hot on his heels comes the mysterious nina / frank churchill (NINA I'M SO SORRY I FUCKING HATE FRANK BUT THIS IS WHAT WORKS FOR THE COUPLES YOU CAN BE A NICE FRANK CHURCHILL ): ), who kaz is kind of fascinated by and enjoys sparring with, and hence kind of misses the really obvious signs that nina and matthias are secretly engaged, even though inej, ever thief of secrets, has lowkey noticed something's up, like matthias getting mysterious gifts from someone. kaz ends up being convinced that possibly it's inej that's pursuing matthias, which nina encourages because it helps her cover, and kaz kinda panics.

everyone has petty village drama which culiminates when kaz sneers at pekka rollins / miss bates (LISTEN. LI actually you don't need to listen bc I laughed out loud when I thought of this comparison but hear me out, if you just think of it as the equivalent of the church of barter scene except instead of 'I buried him' it's 'when have you ever stopped at three?' it kind of works. sorry to miss bates tho who is still kinda my fave austen character) at box hill, which culminates in inej going BOY WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM and kaz is like wow she kind of has a point should I be a better person :/

uhh what else even happens. there's a ball after nina massively encourages one, inej saves wylan from being partnerless and later dances with kaz (think of the gloveless dance scene from the 2020 adaptation? yeah? yeahh??). the regency gender conventions here are getting so messed up lmao, never mind. in emma harriet fancies herself in love with mr knightley and emma is forced to realise that she likes him, so let's say that wylan pretends to be after inej, in order to strong arm kaz into realising that he's wanted to marry inej this entire time. wylan's dad turns out to be minted (I'm stretching the book here to make it work w SOC but never mind) but that's after kaz has admitted he fucked up and sent wylan off to marry gentleman farmer jesper, yaaay. nina's relatives who are stopping her from marrying matthias die and hence there's a massive revelation with 'oh they were engaged this whole time lol', kaz is PISSED bc he didn't clock it. uh. everyone gets married and now kaz can escape the shit village and actually go places. the end.

#this would read less batshit if I could draw bc I would just DRAW it #unfortunately I cannot. LOOK AT MY TEXTPOST BOY #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #soc au #six of crows au #helnik #wesper #crooked kingdom #yk the lads would kind of eat those regency clothes tho. kaz doesn't dress THAT differently honestly except for those damn breeches fjd

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delusionalbitchinthehouse · 28 days

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This is inspired by this post, thanks @coffeeghoulie for the idea ! I don't know if my interpretation of the lyrics is like. Exactly what it's meant to mean ? But I basically went "character A thinks they're not good enough for character B". Also I couldn't for the life of me decide if I wanted it to be Mountain about Swiss or Swiss about Mountain, so I decided to write both perspectives ; this is Mountain about Swiss, the other part will come later don't worry :) Also just a head's up, Mountain judges himself pretty harshly in this, but he's obviously biased and it's not at all what I actually think of him. (I love him to bits)

In the late afternoon light, Mountain watches Swiss. Sprawled on the couch, loose and relaxed, his cheek resting against Rain's, eyes half-closed and a content purr rumbling in his chest, the multi ghoul is a sight for sore eyes.

Mountain's chest aches as he takes in that soft smile pulling at Swiss' lips, the easy way he shuffles to make space for Dew as the fire ghoul unceremoniously flops down on the couch. Dew says - something, Mountain isn't sure what, but it makes Swiss laugh, a full-belly laugh, his head tipping back, throat bared and fangs out, the gleeful sound bouncing off the walls like a siren song, drawing Mountain in, stealing the breath from his lungs.

That stabbing pain in between Mountain's ribs is back in full force. There's something so unbearably good about Swiss. Sure, he's a hellspawn who will occasionally crave blood and violence, snarl and hiss and dig sharp claws in until skin splits and flesh tears, but. It's in the way Swiss seems to always know what everyone needs and is always willing to give it freely if he's able to. A smile, a hug, a kiss, some time alone, a warm meal, conversation, praise, pleasure, reassurance, laughter, music. Goodness, oozing out of him.

Swiss gives and gives, and does it with a smile and the knowledge it will help. He'll mask generosity behind a smokescreen of nonchalence and carelessness, hide his genuine worry under layers of cockiness and distract from his big heart with the glint of an even bigger grin - because he knows, too, that comfort is sometimes easier to accept that way.

It's sweet. He's sweet. Too sweet.

Mountain, folded in an armchair on the other side of the room, watches golden light splash on Swiss' features, drip in the smiling lines around his mouth and the joyful creases around his eyes, mesmerized. The pressure in the earth ghoul's chest increases.

Because Swiss is good, Swiss is sweet, and Mountain...Mountain feels inadequate. Too long limbs never knowing how much they should squeeze during a hug, useless tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth whenever he tries to find reassuring things to say. Always missing clues, no matter how much he tries to pay attention. Selfishly hidding away in his room or the greenhouse far too often, even as others might need him.

Where Swiss can cheer him up in a second, validate his feelings and worries with a few words, make him feel seen and understood in a way he never knew he craved, Mountain isn't sure what he has to offer to the multi ghoul. Long silences and slightly awkward embraces, carefully arranged flowers to try and express the knot of feelings blocking words in his throat.

And yet Swiss always comes to him when he's feeling down, for some reason. Mountain isn't sure why. He doesn't fell worthy of such trust, doesn't feel worthy of him. But he will never turn Swiss away, not for all the gold in the world.

Swiss laughs again, pulling Mountain out of his thoughts. Their eyes meet across the room, moss green and liquid gold. Swiss' smile softens around the edges. Mountain's stomach flips.

#i am heavily projecting on mountain i'm sorry #uuugh he doesn't see that he's amazing #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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thatdiabolicalfeminist · 8 months

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feminist theories, esp Black feminist & transfeminist & anticapitalist feminist theories, have a lot of complexity and depth and really dig in to complex systems of oppression and like there's so much there!! so many critiques, so much back and forth and refining and updating theory to better fit evolving understandings and circumstances

so it's kinda wild to me that people think they're gonna revolutionize gender theory when it's painfully clear that they have NO idea what's already there.

like there are people trying to make whole new frameworks to understand systems of gendered oppression but without any detailed understanding of the current frameworks or, crucially, in what ways they are useful and what material realities they accurately describe.

in order to be useful a new framework needs to both be a) internally logically consistent AND b) describe or explain or interrogate etc material realities that exist in the real world

and c) do this in a way or to a degree that existing or past frameworks don't already do as well or better

and some people are coming up with stuff that sounds good in a vacuum!!!

but they're going off vibes and feelings without much attempt to find out the details of existing frameworks or even what the measurable & objective material realities are

so these "revolutionary new gender theory frameworks" often end up being rehashes of stuff that's already been thought about by lots and lots of people and widely rejected for being inaccurate or inadequate in the face of better frameworks, and/or describing or responding to a totally alternate universe disconnected from how things work in the real world

these kinds of issues make many "revolutionary new frameworks" useless at best, and at worst, they can be reactionary and actually reify existing forms of oppression.

#also they often coincidentally tend to center the exact same kind of person as the person who came up with them as the most oppressed #but it might be petty of me to point that out #you know you can talk about your experiences without claiming they're literally the worst possible experience right?#like you don't actually have to claim people in objectively worse situations are actually the REAL oppressors for your suffering to matter #also i think learning about actual feminist theory might be genuinely empowering to people in this weird position of like #''aware i'm oppressed but feeling like my oppression is minimized on social media because i see people who have my oppression + others''#like social media is not all that feminism is and you don't have to rely on it for your understanding of oppression #thatdiabolicalfeminist

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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peter parker x avenger!reader who can speak to flowers and plants, EXCEPT peter parker is oblivious to the way flowers just seem to grow at his feet and how daisies just lean towards him every time he smiles at r, and when r starts giving everyone in the compound flowers from their hand with a shimmering smile, peter can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t been given one yet, and why his heart seems to hurt when r spends a little bit too much time in thor’s arms.

— 🏄🏻‍♀️

ughhh this was such a cute, fluffy req and i ended up turning it into a mess of angst and insecurities and isabella madrigal but thank u 🏄🏻‍♀️ for sending this in! maybe i'll make some happier follow ups?

𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

peter parker x plant powered! reader

summary: you feel useless; you grow flowers while the other avengers fight battles. peter sees so much more in you, but it seems like you only have eyes for thor.

w/c: 3.0k

notes: gn! reader, angst w/ a happy ending, insecurities (feeling inadequate/reduced to looks/underestimated, etc.), jealous!peter, bestie!thor, flower symbolism that i spent a long time researching and i'm hoping it's accurate

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

being a superpowered avenger with a crush on another superpowered avenger while living in a multimillion-dollar compound that had its own walk-in ice cream fridge was pretty damn awesome. the only thing that could ruin the experience is if your aforementioned superpowers were absolutely useless and thus subject to constant (yet creative) mockery.

(hint: your aforementioned superpower was, in fact, stupid and ridiculed.)

“i feel stupid and ridiculed,” you huffed dejectedly. you and thor were sitting in front of a beautiful picnic spread complete with cucumber finger sandwiches and flasks of asgardian liquor.

“it is alright, midgardian. my brother, loki, is also stupid and ridiculed, but he is a god.” thor paused. “well, you are not a god, but you are—what is it that you little ones say these days? ah, you are W.”

you chuckled sadly, digging your toes into the soft tufts of grass that had sprouted when you’d laid down your picnic blanket. you were grateful for your gift, you really were, but compared to earth’s most powerful, dangerous, and influential people (and also aliens and gods), you were more like a glorified family pet.

“you contribute greatly to the avenging family,” thor reassured, placing one large hand on your shoulder with unintentionally strong force. you felt your body tilt under his strength. you sighed; you must’ve voiced your thoughts out loud.

“if by contribute, you mean reviving sam’s succulents every two months and supplying tony with emergency flower bouquets when he’s upset pepper, then yeah, i guess.”

“do not distress! you are also capable of growing poisonous mushrooms! my brother, loki, enjoys them. they are cute but deadly, like him. and you are sometimes an exterminator! the venus flytrap you gifted me remains in my asgardian throne room. it is very effective. i have not seen a single fly since.”

“that’s because there are no flies in asgard, thor.”

thor patted you on the back twice, forcing you to bend forward with each heavy-handed tap. you looked up at him, watching the man with long, golden hair and piercing eyes look down on you sympathetically. despite him being literally all-powerful and worthy of wielding a crazy magical thunder hammer, you had formed an unexpected bond with thor.

“you know, there was a time in my life when i was unsure of if i was worthy of mjolnir. i only played video games and drank asgardian hard lemonade. however, just because you may not see your worth at the moment does not mean it is not there. i was still as worthy and devilishly handsome. i just needed to shower.” thor looked up at the sky wistfully.

you smiled fondly, recalling the old pictures of thor with a beer belly and untamed beard. even when the team had poked fun at his ragged appearance, thor knew it was superficial and not a determinant of his character. the jokes were not a determinant of your worth or importance.

“thank you, thor.” your eyes crinkled and you blinked back your emotions, never having felt so understood. you looked shyly at your toes, admiring how the grass swayed and danced to the beat of your heart. “i never expected to relate to you so much.”

thor laughed heartily, slinging an arm around your shoulder and for the third time, crushing you with his inhuman strength. he pulled you close to his side, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the comforting pressure that grounded you.

unbeknownst to the two of you, a sneaky and jealous spider had come searching for you with a certain question in mind. peter knew how much you enjoyed spending days rooted in nature and connecting with your element, so after searching the compound, he figured you’d be in your favorite spot.

but when he reached the rolling bluff at the edge of the compound property, his heart sank at the sight of you and thor cuddled up on a romantic outdoor lunch. and when you pointed to something and giggled, followed by thor pressing a sweet kiss to your head, peter’s heart fully shattered. he left wordlessly, dropping the stop ‘n shop bouquet. it was pointless; you could grow your own flowers anyway.

“orange chrysanthemums,” you nodded towards the small patch you’d summoned, “for you. they symbolize friendship and clarity of mind. thank you, thor, for being here for me and allowing me to see my worth.”

thor gasped with childish delight. “the young spiderling bestowed upon me incredible knowledge the other day!” with deft fingers, thor plucked the flowers by their stems and wove them into a haphazard flower crown. “the five-minute crafts ‘tube film is truly revolutionary.”

“you’re a genius!” you squealed, jumping to your feet and giving thor a hug which ended up being you squishing his head into your torso. “how come i’ve never thought to make flower crowns before?”

the rest of the day was spent closer to the main compound grounds, lounging in the sun with thor as you flipped through a farmer’s almanac for flower meanings and growing them. thor proved to be a talented flower crown crafter, weaving intricate patterns and structures with flower steams and leafy vines. a couple of your teammates stopped to say hello, but nobody was particularly interested in your mindless, trivial afternoon activity. they had more pressing meetings and missions, after all.

“so,” tony said, walking around the counter to set down a luscious chocolate cake that he’d custom ordered on the dining table. “i know we just got back from a mission and two of our agents are in like, critical condition, but that’s booooring. let’s think halloween costumes,” tony announced, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “i was thinking the madrigal family; like, i’m obviously the house, since you’re all living on my compound and in my tower, etcetera… pepper can be pepa—duh—also because she’s always stressed… ooo, we could loop strange in and have him be bruno; plus, nobody likes him anyway so it fits…”

you and thor entered the dining room giggling maniacally, holding your completed flower crowns behind your back. thor was on his tippy toes, pretending to sneak around silently, as you tried (and failed) to stifle your chortles. when you came into view of the entire team sitting around the table with tony rambling about animated movies, the two of you silenced.

tony pointed at you excitedly. “perfect timing! you can be isabella, the one that’s really boring and makes all the eldest daughters cry because they relate to trying too hard but never being enough.” tony grinned proudly. “oh, and you both do the whole flowers thing, so that works.”

the air froze momentarily as you furrowed your brows, laughing breathily in disbelief. the table of avengers—tony, bruce, wanda, natasha, and steve—didn’t even notice. peter, lounging nearby, was the only one who seemed to have noticed your reaction.

“but has anyone watched she-ra?” wanda interjected. “i could totally see perfuma. she’s like this princess that… talks to plants or something.”

bruce raised a finger as if he’d just had a eureka moment. “snow white! doesn’t she grow flowers?”

natasha slapped her forehead. “she picks flowers to distract her from the executioner sent by the evil queen, duh.”

as natasha and bruce bickered about the magical limits of the snow white universe and wanda and steve argued over the coolest character in she-ra, peter just sat there, disengaged in conversation, watching as thor bent down to whisper something in your ear. you nodded, moving away from him, and peter jumped from his seat at the opportunity to catch you alone.

you caught peter’s eye and he smiled nervously at you, wondering if you intended to approach him first. instead, you ungracefully scrubbed at your eyes with your arm, presumably to wipe away tears, and then ran off, the sound of your footsteps bouncing off the empty hallway.

peter shuffled uncomfortably. the person he liked took one look at him, started crying, and then literally ran away from him. way to go, romeo.

“what happened to flower power?” tony stopped his brainstorming at the sound of a sob followed by the meek closing of a door. “are they like, okay?”

“they didn’t even stay for cake,” steve worried. “and it’s chocolate.”

peter cracked his knuckles, a habit he’d picked up whenever he was anxious. he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another barrage of theories.

“maybe they were weeding the lawn and got tired?”

“nah, we have a robotic gardner for that-”

“did sam land in one of the flowerbeds again?”

“sam’s not even here right now-”

“stung by a bee?”

“foot run over by a tractor?”

“found a corpse in the fertilizer-”

“ENOUGH!” thor boomed, his usual joviality turned into fuming eyes and deep, angry breaths. “you midgardians are pathetically shallow-minded and incompetent. was it not evident that your hapless conversation was—how do you midgardians say it—creating uncomfortable energy in the studio?”

the table of avengers looked at thor, confused.

thor moved his hands from behind his back and displayed them. on his arms hung the flower crowns you and thor had spent all afternoon creating. thor carefully laid them on the table, smoothing out any wrinkles in the petals and fluffing the leaves.

“in asgard, we revere nature and its gifts. flowers, plants, trees: they are sacred. we could not breathe, nor eat, nor survive or exist without greenery—without powers like theirs. you foolish midgardians… have you not considered the unlimited power that your superfriend wields? the power of life, creation, and growth. to manipulate the natural land, which is what holds up this very building and the entirety of human creation.” thor sighed, shaking his head like he was scolding a classroom of silly kindergarteners.

thor pointed to the flower crowns, distributing them to the person they were meant for.

“for tony: dark, blood orange tiger lilies and golden yellow jasmines to represent wealth, pride, and elegance”

“for bruce: a circlet of green to celebrate the part of him that he tries to hide. green hellebore and envy zinnia, symbolizing peace, serenity, and endurance.

“for wanda: a crown of purple, made of verbena, crocus, and clematis. to attract butterflies and honor her youthfulness, creativity, and limitless capability.

“for natasha: white and yellow, because she deserves softness; chamomile for her patience in adversity, black-eyed susans for her sense of justice, and edelweiss, for her courage and devotion.”

there was only one more crown on the table, but two avengers left. red, white, and blue flowers—it was clearly meant for steve.

“they put their heart into these, and for steve especially. bluebell, for his humility. white gladiolus, for his integrity and strength. finally, red nasturtium, which they spent hours searching for, to represent his victory and patriotism.”

thor watched as each avenger admired their respective crown before noticing peter, hands empty, standing in the corner looking despondent. thor bit back a knowing smile, approached the frowning boy, and beckoned him closer. peter grimaced as he caught sight of thor’s subtle amusement, scoffing bitterly. was the god here to rub it in further; that he’d won over the object of peter’s affection who he’d been pining over for months?

“they are in their room,” thor whispered loudly. “they will probably want to see you, small and short arachnid child.”

peter elected not to ignore thor’s passive-aggressive insults and nodded determinedly, making his way to your door with his mind racing. thor had said you’d wanted to see him, yet you’d barely acknowledged him and hadn’t bothered making him a crown. he’d be fine with sticks hot glued together, if it meant you’d thought of him. which, he supposed, you hadn’t.

he didn’t get the chance to knock before your door swung open and you waved him inside. “sorry i got all dramatic back there,” you sniffed. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“what? you didn’t- no, what everyone was saying was just… wrong. cruel. you’re- well, you’re incredible.” peter cracked his knuckles, the bones popping loudly and drawing your attention. he shook his hands out and looked at you bashfully. “sorry. nervous habit.”

“don’t be nervous,” you smiled sadly. “i’m harmless. literally.”

“y’know, thor showed us those crowns you made. i thought they were really cool, really beautiful.” peter hesitated. “beautiful like you. a-and i don’t want to push anything, ‘cause i know you’re upset and stuff, but i just… thought you should know.”

you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and let out a dark chuckle. “yeah, they are quite pretty. thanks for saying that. i get it a lot, but it’s nice to hear it from- from you.”

“i hope you know that beauty isn’t all there is to you. you’re thoughtful—thor explained all the meanings behind the flowers and you even matched the colors up for everyone… you’re crazy smart—you read a farmer’s almanac and i don’t know anyone as good as biology as you; i suck at bio. and you’re really, really strong.”

you looked up at peter, bewildered.

peter’s face fell when he saw your expression of confusion. how could you not see your own power and endurance? timidly, he stepped forward until his chest was a foot from yours and brought his hand up to straighten your tightened eyebrows.

“don’t look at me like that. don’t look at me like you can’t comprehend your own capability.” peter’s thumb traced down your face—starting at your eyebrows, down to your eyes, where he wiped the remnants of your tears, gently circling over the curves of your cheeks, down to your jawline and trailing to your chin, where he took it between two fingers and tilted your face upwards so he could admire you properly.

“the rest of the team might make jokes, but they’re being close-minded. they talked about isabella, right? well, she grew these stems that encircled the entire house; so strong that they could carry both her and mirabel and it was like they were flying, y’know? a-and perfuma was like, a warrior princess that could choke people out with her vines and whipped them unconscious and could stab people with thorns—i’m kidding, it’s a kid’s animated series. but you get the point. there are possibilities, and just because you can create beautiful, delicate masterpieces doesn’t mean you’re shallow and fragile.”

as peter rambled, you had to bite your lip to stop the beam that was fighting to escape. you wanted him to talk forever, and you were scared that if you looked like you felt better, he’d stop with his words. admittedly, you loved the praise. but you loved the sound of peter’s voice and his loving caress and the way he seemed to believe in you—maybe even more so than yourself.

“peter,” you whispered hoarsely, letting yourself smile. “thank you, peter.”

peter swallowed thickly, having not thought ahead to what would happen after he spilled his guts out about his admiration of you. “uh, you’re welcome?” his voice cracked embarrassingly.

you gave no reaction. instead, your eyes seemed to soften. “i’m sorry i didn’t make a crown for you. i didn’t mean for it to seem like- like i didn’t care.”

peter’s eyes flickered across your face, looking for any sign of a lie. he didn’t want you to reassure you out of pity or because you felt obligated to after he’d complimented you. he cracked his knuckles, feeling the confidence he’d exuded a minute ago begin to die.

you grabbed his hands and forced his fingers to unclench from his palms, your own fingers running over his skin. your fingers were calloused from the time you spent outdoors, tending to your variety of plants, and it only heightened his belief that you were more than just pretty, that you were just as durable and strong.

“i didn’t know what flowers to use,” you said lowly, unable to meet his eye. “‘cause red roses are cliché; well, roses in general, and tulips and lilies have been overused, and baby’s breath seemed kind of bridesmaid-y, and- and carnations remind me of mother’s day, and you’re not my mother, so i just-”

“hey, it’s okay,” peter reassured. “i won’t lie, i was worried at first. i thought you just completely forgot about me, which is ouch. but it means a lot that you cared… so much.”

you squeezed his hands tighter. peter felt something tickle the fleshy inside of his palms and looked down curiously. slowly, your hands moved away from his and he watched in amazement as little buds began sprouting from your hands and falling as they made their way into full bloom.

daisies and their stray petals littered the floor beneath him, and peter tried his best not to move in fear of crushing one of the flowers. you looked equally surprised, but quickly caught your bearings, and when peter looked back up at you, you were holding a little bouquet of misshapen, droopy daises with a shy smile.

“so you don’t crack your knuckles,” you explained. “and because they represent new beginnings and, um, true love.”

peter’s face contorted as he took the flowers from you, fingers brushing over yours. you examined peter’s expression intensely, heartbeat skipping as you followed the way his face seemed to twist and morph into something similar to disgust.

but when peter held the daisies up to his nose and made a big show of smelling them, bringing them down from his face to reveal a huge, bright grin, you allowed yourself to indulge in one of your own.

“i take it you like it?” you muttered, shuffling closer as petals shifted beneath your shoes.

peter nodded, wrapping the arm that held his flowers around your back to pull you even closer. it was like you could feel the warmth emanating off him. he was like sun.

“i like it a lot. not as much as i like you, though.”

“i gave you a gift, didn’t i?” you breathed, eyes bright with anticipation. “do i get anything in return?”

peter hummed. “well, what would you like?”

you rolled your eyes at his game. “surprise me.”

neither of you was surprised when your lips met, initially brushing against each other like hesitant spring sprouts, before exploding into colorful, passionate blooms.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

peter parker masterlist | main masterlist

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mae-gi-writes · 2 years

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lean on me · bang chan

When life seems to drown you, Bang Chan is there to hold you up.

Genre: bestfriends au! Suggestive, fluff, comfort, because I need this in my life right now.

---

Everything is just wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong.

If there's one word that defines your everyday life, it would probably be: crying. You don't remember a day where you haven't cried about something, whether it be due to your job or in relation to being overworked, or whether it's because you can't help feeling inadequate as you wake up and navigate through life like you're putting on a show for people you don't care about.

It's half-past eight in the evening when you finally drag yourself out of your couch, groggy and head aching from too much crying. It's almost like you're in a daze and walking through a short pocket of time where reality ceases to exist. And you're okay with that, with not existing.

Useless, your brain reminds you, useless.

And just on cue, your phone pings with a notification.

You let out a tired sigh, decide to ignore it in favour of grabbing the tv remote to switch through netflix in hopes that it might distract you from the empty pit caving through your heart.

You're so tired. So fed up with everything. So fed up of life. Do you have to continue living?

And if so, what for? What exactly are you living for?

Another ping sounds from your phone. And another. And another.

You curse under your breath, searching up one of the anime shows you've put on hold and blatantly avoiding the device atop the coffee table like it's a ticking time bomb. You wonder briefly whether you've been poring the social media a little too much, since all you feel is inadequacy, uselessness.

Useless. That darned word.

Your phone rings.

Jumping in shock, you can't help but cry out, "oh for fuck's sake!" As the sound pierces through the air, a jagged knife to your ears that makes your heart jump to your throat.

You swoop in, thumb at the ready to reject the call when your eyes register the name flashing onto the screen.

Bang Chan.

Slowly, your thumb moves to the green button, and press down.

"Hello?" You mutter.

You're really not in the mood. But for Chan, you guess that you have to make an exception.

"Hey," he sounds outside, the distant noise of cars and wind echoing through the receiver, "milk tea with or without the sugar?"

You blink, registering his words. Then, you mumble out, "I'm...I'm good."

A pause. Before he asks, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"No, tell me."

Maybe it's the gentleness in his voice, the tender way he coaxes it out of you. But you find you can't hold your tears in any longer.

You burst into sobs.

"Give me five--no, ten minutes," Chan says, "ten minutes and I'll be there."

True to his word, there's a knock on your door a moment later and as you open it with the reluctance of allowing yout best friend into your head once more, your eyes can't hrlp but sting at the sight of Chan's face.

"Hey," he steps in, takes off his shoes as you close the door. He lifts a grocery bag up, "I bought boba."

You nod and turn, striding towards the couch as he follows in your wake in silence. You flop down onto the couch and watch as Chan sets the drinks atop the table, its weight dipping as he takes a seat beside you.

"Want to talk about it?"

His gentle tone is a warm blanket amidst the cold silence of your apartment. You don't dare look at him as you answer, "I'm...I'm not sure."

He shifts so that his body faces you, and the warmth seeping from his chest to yours has you unconsciously snuggling closer.

"Tell me," he says, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," your murmur echoes throughout the room, knees coming up to your chest as if to protect you, "everything seems so tiring. And nothing is going right. It's like-- everything I do is useless. I'm useless, and--and--"

It's the moment that your voice breaks that your tears finally leak through like a dam unleashed. Your body bends over and before you know it, you're sobbing into Chan's chest as his arms wind around you, pressing you close to him while his lips smooth over the crown of your head in comfort.

It takea you a while to calm down, until your unruly sobs are tamed to shell-shocked hiccups, until your heart isn't pounding galloping at hundred miles an hour, and until you can hear more of Chan's comforting murmurs in the shell of your ear rather than the obnoxious ringing and blood pulsing rushing through your head.

One of his hands lift up to smooth over the back of your head, "why didn't you tell me this sooner?" He murmurs.

"What could I have told you?" You sniffle into his sweater, "you're always so--so good. Always perfect at the things you're good at. I can't even pass a stupid practical exam even if I tried hard enough. And I've been trying--"

"Hey hey," he quickly interrupts, cupping your jaw to pull your face away enough for your eyes to meet his, "no negative self-talk. Remember what we said about that?"

"Easy for you to say when--"

"Y/N," his voice rings out in warning, firm, "I mean it."

So you press your lips shut in favour of burying your face once again into the depths of his neck. If there's one place where you truly feel at home, it would be with Chan.

"You need to stop being so hard on yourself," his hold tightens a little more, as if if he holds you long enough it might squeeze all that toxicity out of you, "can you please do that? If not for you, for me?"

"I--" there's a lump in your throat and you swallow thickly, "--I guess. I can try."

"Good."

A comforting silence slowly washes over the room as you allow yourself to breathe in Chan's scent; a mixture of pine and boy shower gel that somehow always manages to ease the tension from your body.

You're not exacrly sure when you fall asleep, only that the next thing you know once your eyes flutter open is that darkness greets you, the only indication that you haven't moved being Chan's soft breathing as you blink the tiredness away from your vision.

It's only when you try to move that you feel Chan's hand slipped around your waist, holding you in such a firm, protective grip it causes your cheeks to blossom with heat.

Oh. You hadn't been expecting that.

What to do? Your brain practically goes into full panic mode. What to do? Can you move? Will he let you move? What if he wakes up? What then?

"Y/N."

You jump, startled when your name slips from Chan's lips.

Shit. He's awake.

But the young man merely pulls you a little tighter against him, face nuzzling into the depths of your neck like a drowsy pup. He mumbles some more, and your heart squeezes in adoration.

Even Chan gets tired sometimes.

And you're the one who takes his kindness for granted.

"Y/N...don't understand..." he continues on through a half-slur, so abstract that you have to pay attention to understand half of what he's saying, "...hate...you like...this..."

Your heart can't help but melt into Chan goo. Out of impulse maybe, your hand lifts to comb gently through his dark locks and he all but sighs in bliss against your touch, "...mhmm...I...I...love..."

Freezing, you blink at his silhouette aligned in the dark. Wait for him to continue with baited breath.

"...I...Y/N..." turning his face to the side, he continues on, "...love...Iloveyou..."

Did he just--

Your brain must be playing tricks on you.

There is no way in hell that Chan would tell you--

"I...love you..."

He's asleep. He's dreaming. At least, that's what's going through your head as panic seizes up in your chest and suddenly, the room feels a little too small to your liking, the warmth of Chan's arms a little too stuffy to be comfortable. You feel your entire body burning up with heat and out of shock quickly pull away from Chan's arms, not realizing that doing so only causes him to stir.

"Y/N?" His groggy mumble is definitely conscious this time. He straightens, until you try to shift further out of his lap only to fall back against him, hips aagainst his.

His body stiffens. You can feel him. All of him.

Your entire face flushes and you're glad it's dark, for you would've clearly combustes into flames by now.

"You good?" Comes his raspy murmur.

You nod, not knowing what to say in such circumstances when you've literally heard such words fall from his mouth.

Are you supposed to make as though you haven't heard a thing? Do you act like everything is fine?

"I'll just--uhm, I'll just move away--" you're already clambering out of his lap with conviction this time, until a firm grip on your middle makes you halt.

"Stay?"

He sounds so tentative that your heart can't help but flutter in your chest.

"I--" your words tangle up in your mouth, "why?"

"...please?"

You can't say no, not when his entire body is making you tremble, and definitely not when his voice seems to drop an octave that just makes your entire stomach to flip upside down.

So you settle back down, moving to the side so that you can pillow your head onto his chest. His arm wraps around your waist comfortably, chin brushing your forehead while his other hand starts playing with the edge of your t-shirt as if that simple action calms him down.

"How are you feeling?" He asks softly.

You look up at his silhouette, or what you can make out in the slither of moonlight cascading through the window, "much better, I think."

"Good," his hand moves up to trace soft circles along your arm out of habit. Then after a moment, he asks, "do you want to move to the bed?"

"No. It's actually pretty comfy here. Unless...you want to move?"

"No no," his grip tightens, "I'm good here. It's great, and...yeah."

Silence. Chan's heart beating against your ear. It's supposed to be relaxing, soothing. But it just causes another flood of questions eating at your mind.

And before you can stop yourself, you blurt out:

"I heard you talking in your sleep."

You deserve a good slap for that one. What the fuck is wrong with you?

"Huh?" Chan laughs, "me?"

"Yeah--don't laugh! It's true," you lift your head up in protest, eyes narrowed at what you hope is the outline of his face, "you were talking in your sleep, I swear."

"Oh? And what was I talking about?"

"Me."

You don't have to see his face to know he's raising an eyebrow at you, "very funny, Y/N."

"I swear on my heart I'm not lying."

You practically hear his entire throat bob, "it was probably because I was worried."

"You said you liked me."

The silence that follows is even more deafening than the last that you swear you can hear a pin drop on the other side of the room.

Chan's heart is a loud drum thrumming underneath your fingertips splayed out on his chest. But he does not say anything, maybe out of shock, maybe out of pure surprise.

"Actually...you said you loved me, more specifically," you continue on babbling, your mouth suddenly taking on a life of its own despite your brain short-circuiting with panic at the multitudes of wrong that this conversation is going through, "but that's-- I mean, you probably mistook my name for that cute girl you went on a date with a few weeks ago, We're definitely not that kind of stupid cliche story where best friends fall in love with each other just because we can right? And it would be stupid of me to think that maybe you do like me in that way, right? right?"

Still, he doesn't answer. So you quickly scramble to find a way out of this whole shit show.

"Anyway it was just you mumbling, maybe I heard wrong too, you know how had my ears are, and plus--"

"Hey Y/N," he finally cuts you off, "chill."

That's when you realize you hadn't been breathing all this time, and slowly take in a shaky inhale. Then, exhale. Deeply.

Chan's hands, suddenly no more around your waist but rather gripping your hips. He hoists you up so that you straddle his lap as he follows, straightening and leaning against the back of the couch. You can't see his face, you can't see any of him apart from the shapes and shadows formed by the slither of moonlight and that makes you even more anxious.

You really wish you can slap yourself across the face for the things that have just spilled from your mouth. You must be one of the greatest idiots in history to divulge such sacred information so easily to the one person that could literally destroy your relationship right here right now--

"Ow," a small flick of fingers on your forehead causes you to yelp in pain, hands flying up to the said sore spot, "what the heck was that for?"

"I told you to chill, didn't I?"

"I was."

"Of course you weren't. You're Y/N. You were probably mentally kicking yourself for not keeping your mouth shut."

He's right. But he doesn't have to know that. You look away, eyes finding safety in the dark depths of Chan's t-shirt. At least you can't feel the searing heat of his gaze from there.

"You know me too well," you finally mutter out like a sullen child.

He chuckles, "I do."

And then, without warning, you feel his palm cupping your jaw before he turns your face to his. Gently, as if you're made out of porcelain, he leans in until his nose brushes yours, until his breaths wash against your face and makes you feel like squirming in place.

It's as if you have to find something to say, only to come up with: "this feels weird."

A pause. Before he says, "it does."

Before you know it, his mouth is on yours. Kissing you.

A small gasp dies at the back of your throat as his lips presses ever so slightly against yours. A small peck. One. Two. And then, a third one that lasts a little longer. One that makes you sigh once he pulls back with a shaky breath.

Your hands slip up to tangle into his shirt before you pull him in and kiss him once more, mouths slowly slanting against each other as they carve their way into a sensual dance that has your insides tingling all the way down to your feet.

You've always known that Chan would be a good kisser to whoever he would find in his life. But his hand cupping your jaw more insistently while his other arm laces around your waist to pin your body to his makes your suppositions disappear altogether because the real thing is so goddamn amazing that nothing can compare.

You wonder whether he feels as overwhelmed as you are, but from the sigh that escapes his lips the moment you part for breath, you'd say that he's liking it a lot more than expected, and the thought of it causes another surge of warmth through your chest.

"Still weird?" He breathes out as your noses brush.

You bite down onto your lip, "good weird?"

"Good weird," he agrees.

And you're back to kissing him like you've waited your entire life for this. And he kisses back like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

If it's a dream then surely you never want to wake up from this blissful slumber where everything in this tiny pocket of time makes sense. All your worries have vanished in thin air, leaving you with the scent of Chan's deodorant and the comfort of his arms.

Later, as you lay snuggled and still on the couch while watching the first morning light filter through the curtain, you can't help but tilt your head up to catch his profile now glowing in hues of amber.

He catches you staring, the corner of his lips curving upwards, "what?"

You mirror his smile, "thank you for coming to me."

His smile widens into a grin, "always."

That makes your heart pound, blood rushing to your face so that you have to bury it in his chest to stop the embarrassment from spreading further.

Questions will have to be answered later. That you know. But laying there in Chan's arms feel so right that you're convinced that everything will just make sense from then owards.

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thenovelartist · 1 year

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IkePri Headcanons - The Twins with Twins

As absolutely adorable as this situation is, you cannot tell me having twins would not destroy these boys in the best way.

I'm sorry in advance. I'll be handing out free tissues. (Also, long post, and Licht's set is under the cut.)

Nokto

When he learns Emma is pregnant, he does have a mini panic attack and goes silent.

He's flat out overwhelmed.

Despite that, he is happy. He doesn't want Emma to think otherwise.

But once it sinks in, a new feeling hits him like a storm.

Is this truly happiness he deserves? He sometimes questions whether or not he's suitable to be king, and now he's going to be a father.

He tries not to let Emma see is inner turmoil. Too bad she knows him too well.

She has always been there to reassure him of her previous choice making him king, but now she swears she'll be there to assure him he's going to be a great father, too.

Licht is the first to learn the news. You wouldn't believe just how happy he is for his brother.

After that, it will slowly make the rounds, and everyone begins fussing over the next prince (no one expects a princess) to be born.

But Emma has a rough time of it with her morning sickness. And there are plenty of doctors going to and fro trying to make things to help her.

It's in that commotion that the rumor of twins sparks. A rumor that is confirmed later when Emma starts growing larger than is typical.

Nokto was desperately hoping it wasn't the case, but once it's confirmed, his heart sinks.

Twins, cursed to carry that awful title of a blessing and curse. Even now as a king, he's still looked down upon by certain nobles due to the fact he's a twin, and now his own children are going to have to carry this burden?

But that's the beauty of Emma: she was a commoner who'd never heard of such a ridiculous rumor before coming to the castle.

Furthermore, that was the beauty of Belle: her pure heart was there to assure Nokto his children would not have that burden thrust on them by their mother like he had.

He wants to believe her, truly he does, but past scars never heal.

And she knows this, so she asks him to do two things.

The first being to trust her. The second being to love his children unconditionally.

Those are two things he can do, even though he feels inadequate, even though he's scared he can't protect them, even though he's terrified of failing.

When he first feels those little kicks against his palm as it rests over his wife's stomach, a fire ignites inside of him insisting he better damn well try his best for them. They deserve it from him.

When his wife goes into labor, he's up to his ears in foreign trade deals.

And even though he tries to leave, he is strategically kept in one place by Sariel, who is playing out Emma's request to keep her husband busy as possible so he doesn't worry about her in labor.

Someone's going to have to double check his work, but he does get a lot done before he's released to go see his twins.

Daughters, to the surprise of everyone. There hasn't been a girl born in the royal family for three generations.

Upon bursting into the room, he freezes upon seeing the two bundles beside her on the bed. His twins.

He's crying but doesn't realize it until he's close enough for his wife to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

He may have hurt Licht in the past by being too useless to protect himself, but he's going to be the kind of man who gives his girls the world, the twin's curse be damned.

Licht is the first of the brothers to see them. Emma tells Nokto that his twin should get the special privilege of seeing his nieces first.

Even though she's asleep when Licht first enters the room, Nokto almost prefers it that way. Not that he doesn't love his wife, but he wants a moment privately with his brother.

He makes Licht sit down before handing over one of his daughters for him to hold. Which puts Licht in awe.

Holding his other daughter, Nokto sits down next to his brother on the sofa. They're quiet for a long moment, neither able to say a word.

"I'm going to protect them," Nokto finally mutters. It's all he can confess, despite so many thoughts scrolling through his mind.

Licht smiles softly at the twin in his arms before looking over at his brother. But unable to look his brother in the eye, his gaze falls to the twin Nokto is holding before he answers, "you will."

Growing Up

Best believe these girls are spoiled.

They have all their uncles wrapped around their finger in one way or another.

Even Sariel has the most special place in his heart for these girls, but that's because of the number they've done to their father and his twin. Sariel will forever feel in debt to these girls for that.

Licht would die for these girls. And he gets scolded every time by Emma.

And the one time the little twins heard their uncle Licht said that, they burst into tears, grabbing his legs and clinging to him. "You can't die!"

Licht hasn't felt that guilty in a while.

And even though Nokto knows what it does to Licht, he still has to chew his brother out, for his daughters' sake.

These girls force Licht to live now because he can't make them cry. It's a very tentative step in the right direction.

Then there was the damage these little twin girls did on their father...

"You're the best dad in the whole world." "He's king because he's better than all our uncles." "We love you."

Screw being king of the country, these girls make him feel like king of the world.

And there's times he gets overwhelmed by that. They think so highly of him that he doesn't want to let him down.

He's made himself physically sick trying to live up to their expectations, despite Emma's warnings to take it easy.

The few times he is forced to recover from overwork, his daughters are there with tea and teddy bears uncle Luke made them, sticking by his side to give him all the hugs and cuddles he could ask for as they "nursed" him back to health.

"Daddy will always be the best, no matter what."

And before Nokto has a chance to spiral down into despair, Emma is there to confirm, "That's right. Daddy works really hard to make you proud because he loves you soooo much. He's the best daddy ever."

The world seems to fade out from around Nokto, even though he knows his twin girls are smiling as they loudly agree.

All he can do is hug all his girls tight. "I love you."

His two little blessings squeeze him as tightly as they can from each side as Emma leans over to kiss the top of his head. "We love you, too."

Licht

When he learns Emma is pregnant, he’s speechless, to the point he shuts down.

He’s terrified, yes, but there’s also a part of him that is so happy he doesn’t know what to do with it.

And it’s made worse by the fact that, for once, he's happy without feeling guilty, which will soon result in a bigger guilt trip later down the line.

So Emma was glad that she told him this at night in the privacy of their bedroom, because Licht is full out sobbing soon enough.

There are no words that need to be said about why, and she knows he’s not upset by the fact that there’s a baby on the way. The way he’s clinging to her as tightly as he is tells her as much.

The only reason she feels guilty is because she knows what’s going through his mind and the extra burden this is going to throw onto him.

Give him a couple days for the information to settle and him to mentally adapt to this change, and once that happens, everyone in the castle is going to wonder why Licht looks so… happy.

It’s unsettling. Welcome, for sure, but unsettling.

So much so that Nokto hunts down Emma to interrogate her on just what happened to his twin.

He's the first that learns the news, as Licht had kept his mouth shut this long.

Nokto's torn. On one hand, he knows what has to be going through Licht's mind, but on the other, he just wants the world for his brother, so he hopes Licht truly sees this as the happiness it is.

Licht knows Nokto found out when Nokto surprises Licht with a hearty pat on his shoulder and supportive smile.

Licht returns the gesture, squeezing his brother's shoulder in silent thanks.

After that, the whole castle soon finds out the news, and everyone is quite thrilled to hear it.

(Yves did not have a happy cry in his room over it when he heard the news. He did NOT...)

But then comes the news... Emma's carrying twins.

Licht's world collapses.

It's not fair. Being a twin is a hard burden in Rhodolite, and now he cursed Emma to carry twins, who'd carry around the burden of a curse the rest of their life.

Emma literally started hiding any and all sharp things the moment she found out. She also was determined to be his support pillar from then on.

"They're going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen, Licht. I swear."

However, all the comfort in the world doesn't stop him from worrying. There's plenty of sleepless nights and rough days.

But there are moments the chaos in his mind fades away, allowing him to experience the happiness before him. Like when he feels little kicks and hands press against his wife's stomach. It's those moments he finally smiles, and when he does, Emma feels able to relax for three seconds.

As she nears her due date, she once again approaches Nokto with a favor. (She considered Yves for three minutes before deciding Nokto would be the far better choice.)

"I need you to keep Licht away from the castle when I'm in labor."

Nokto smirks and scoffs. "And why would I bother risking my brother's wrath on such a momentous occasion?"

"Because you told me you won't forgive anyone who hurts your brother, and if he sits outside the room when I'm in labor, he's going to torment himself with every sound."

Nokto goes silent, his expression falling as he realizes what Emma is saying.

And just before she's about to offer anything in return, he cuts in. "Yeah. I'll do it. Don't worry about it."

Nokto does find a moment to inform the others in the domestic faction about his plan, and how no one inform Licht if Emma was in labor.

They all care for Licht enough to agree to this seemingly heartless plan. They prepare for as many scenarios as possible and simply hope for the best. (And that Licht never find out.)

They're all very lucky that Nokto just happened to take Licht away as a personal guard on an outing near the border as Emma's water breaks.

Upon receiving a letter with the news from Yves, Nokto purposefully prolongs the trip so as to keep his promise to Emma, much to the irritation of a very anxious Licht.

And when they arrive back home, the first thing Licht learns is that Emma is in labor.

The princes weren't happy with the lone servant that had ruined the plan to distract Licht.

As much as they wanted to distract Licht, no one was bold enough to stand in the way of a very determined sixth prince with blazing red eyes as he ran towards the room.

But ultimately, they had been lucky to stall Licht just long enough. The only cries Licht could hear on the other side of the door were those of a baby.

And when he was let in shortly after he arrived, his panicked eyes instantly locked on Emma.

Que the tears as he falls to his knees beside her, apologizing for the fact he wasn't here.

Emma does her best to settle him down and assure him he was more useful elsewhere than just waiting outside the door.

He's not convinced, though, so Emma resorts to redirecting his attention towards his twin boys.

As he looks over the two swaddled babies in the bassinet, he can't help but cry, just as Emma knew he would.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry." He was the one who cursed them to bear this burden that should be his and his alone. And yet his sons will carry this curse of being a twin from a twin for the rest of their lives.

On what should be one of the happiest days of their lives, Emma's heart breaks because she knows Licht only says that out of the deepest love fathomable in his shattered heart.

Growing Up

These two boys are loved dearly by their uncles.

Particularly Yves who has very little self-control when it comes to making sweets for them.

And they have Licht's sweet tooth, to be sure.

And Sariel loves these two to pieces, even though they break his heart. They hold all the sunshine Licht used to hold as a child, and he'd do anything to make sure they stay that way.

But there's two people who can't stand the immense cuteness of two princes packed with all the innocent love that Belle's heart could muster.

Nokto can't stand how much they love him. He feels guilty just looking at them.

"Uncle Nokto will protect us from the devil!"

Because he couldn't protect his own brother but these two think that he's the best shield from Sariel?

He hates it. He hates how they can look up at him and think he's the best uncle of the seven they have.

Yet, deep in his heart, he feels the beast within him roaring that he will protect these two with his life should it come down to it.

And Licht...

Oh, poor Licht.

His twins destroy him.

"Best dad in the whole world." "We love you." "Our dad is so brave." "He's invincible!" All paired with so many hugs.

And when they look up at him for guidance, trying to mirror the way he walks to the fact they also picked up the habit of sliding carrots off their plates, he realizes that he is the world to these two boys.

So he can't do anything to lead them off the right path. Not even in private. He loves them too much to do anything to destroy their smiles.

Which takes a mental toll on him.

"Mommy, why does dad cry at night?"

It's a hard question for Emma to answer, but it's one she'd been thinking about for ages since she just knew that, sooner or later, these boys would find out their dad's secret. And they were right at the age where she could tell the twins the truth... somewhat.

"It's very hard to explain. You see... your dad did something bad in the past. He knows what he did was bad and is sorry for it, but sometimes, it makes him very sad when he thinks about it."

The twins faces fell. Which made her worried.

And when they took off, she didn't know where they were going, but she hoped she didn't say the wrong thing.

Instead, they found their dad in his office, alone for once. And they ran up and hugged him.

"It's okay if you did something bad in your past. You didn't mean it." "And you're still the best dad ever."

Licht didn't know he could break down that hard in front of his sons.

They stay for a while, hugging their dad tight before deciding they were going to get Yves to make snacks for all of them.

And when they run out, Nokto happens to slip in.

"I heard everything."

There is a tense silence for a while, Licht swiping at his swollen red eyes while a misty-eyed Nokto pretended not to notice.

"I hate them," Licht whispers, unable to look his brother in the eye.

Nokto takes a shaky breath, looking anywhere except in Licht's direction as he leaned against the back of the couch, his arms crossed as a tear rolled down his own cheek. "At times like this..." he whispers back, voice hoarse. "I do, too."

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri headcanons #ikepri licht #ikepri nokto #This has only been edited once; I'm too impatient and want to post now.#Hey I'm back to hurt/comfort #been a hot minute since I've written that #I wonder if that means I'm slowly getting my mojo back

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genshin-obsessed · 1 year

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If its fine, can you please do a Thoma fic, where reader tries her best to help and impress him with chores and stuff but she ends messing up and humiliating herself which causes reader to feel useless and a bother. Y/n would then distance herself from Thoma out of shame which causes Thoma to look for her and sees her trying to improve herself yet failing though he could see she was trying (ex. she has bandages in her hands due to hurting herself accidentally in cooking.)

So, I've been working on this fic for way too long. It's lengthy, it's also more of a platonic thoma x reader, but you're welcome to interpret it how you like. Your partner can become your best friend overtime. ♢ Character: Thoma ♢ Word count: 2398 ♢ Genre: kinda angst to fluff ♢ Extra: the reader is female as requested and uses she/her pronouns <3

Thoma was a very impressive man, to say the least. He did things at an inhuman level, in your opinion. You always tried hard to keep up with him, but he was just too good. He was responsible, a great cook, great advisor, good timekeeper, amazing best friend- the list was endless. You were envious of his talents- in the best ways. He was your best friend but the thing was… you felt a little inadequate sometimes. If your best friend was so impressive, you should be too! But that was easier said than done, where were you even supposed to start? After plenty of contemplation, you decided to start small! So you embarked on a mission- one to be almost as impressive as Thoma! You’d show him you could do chores just like he could!

“Hey, (n/n), whatcha doing?” Thoma asked as he walked up to you. You had been running through the estate trying to clean up and he… didn’t really see why. He actually had a hard time finding you, that’s how fast you were moving.

“Oh! Just cleaning up a bit! I’ve been doing pretty good if I say so myself!” You said with a bright smile as you stopped dusting the table and looked up at him.

“Um…” he chuckled sheepishly, giving you a sympathetic smile. “I wouldn’t say that great. You missed a few spots.” Your eyes widened and you immediately looked around, feeling your heart sink a little. Of course that look sent an instant wave of regret through Thoma. That came out way harsher than he meant it to.

“What? Where? How?” Thoma didn’t have an answer for your last question, but he was quick to point out the tea stains on the table. Not to mention, one still had something sticky on it, what you assumed to be sauce from a dish. You were quick to scrub it down before looking at Thoma.

“Minor mistakes, but I’ll make sure they don’t happen again!”

“That’s sweet, (n/n), but why are you cleaning?” He asked with a head tilt, making you sigh as you finally took a moment to breathe. You might as well give him a minor explanation to what you’d been plotting.

“Well, I always see you doing everything around the estate. I mean, you do have help but it always feels like you do a majority of things. So, I wanted to help you!” Your words brought a smile to Thoma’s face and brought warmth to his chest. This was no surprise, you were always so sweet and thoughtful, of course you were concerned about him and his work.

“That’s very kind of you, but you don’t need to. I have it handled.”

“Well everyone deserves a break! I think you do too!” Thoma was a little unsure. Not that he was underestimating you, but it was a lot of work for one person to handle. Even he didn’t work alone, he was just fast. However, you also lacked proper knowledge on what the cleaning required at the estate. Not to mention, you weren’t used to the work here and you were moving fast. He could assume- just like the tables earlier- you might’ve missed a… few spots in different rooms.

“Ok, why don’t you help me then? We’ll work together and move faster.” He offered, but deep down he knew he was really saying that to cover you. Of course, he didn’t have the heart to say it to your face, seeing as how happy it made you to help him.

“No! I got this! Trust me!” Um… he kinda didn’t, but he eventually relented. You didn’t have that much experience in cleaning this particular estate and he knew it was a lot of work. But your big eyes filled with hope and determination melted whatever barriers he had.

“Alright, if you’re sure. Just let me know if you need any help.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint!” You declared, throwing him a thumbs up. Thoma only chuckled and gave you a pat on the head before he turned and walked away.

***

So began your little attempt at cleaning the manor… by yourself. You ran through everything, making sure to scrub well to avoid any stains, making sure to spray down disinfectants, fixing up decor, wiping down seats, rearranging items- all of that.

However, after only a couple of rooms, you realized how tired you were. Thoma had checked in on you every now and then, but you were sure to plaster a smile on your face and let him know that everything was going fine. The rest of the rooms were quite difficult- physically. Little by little, you finally managed to finish all the rooms you’d assumed needed cleaning.

So, you went off to find Thoma and it didn’t take long to find him… cleaning up your messes.

“Thoma? Did I miss a spot?” You asked with a frown, making the man stand up with wide eyes.

“O-oh yeah, just a tiny one! Don’t worry, I got it though. You did a really good job, thank you so much for all your help (n/n)!.” The biggest, brightest smile graced your features making his heart light up.

“Is there anything else you need help with?” Thoma immediately shook his head, you’d done plenty and even if it wasn’t the best work, he didn’t expect it for someone on their first day.

“Nope! Now go home, you deserve a break. Besides, tomorrow is our lunch date, don’t be late.” He said with a smile, which made you chuckle a little.

“Ok!” You chirped, giving your friend one last hug before you were off to go take your break. You’d come visit him later in the evening, you just wanted to surprise him.

When you were gone, a head popped out from behind Thoma. It was another maid in the house.

“Your friend isn’t very good at cleaning.” Thoma only sighed and turned to face her.

“She’s trying.”

“Can we get started on cleaning up then?” They were talking about cleaning up your mistakes, to which Thoma nodded.

Overall, you were a big help. Sure, they did have to clean in the end anyway, but because of you, their work was finished in less than an hour since they were just fixing mistakes. However, since they had to do it anyway, there was not much of a point in you helping. Of course, Thoma only tried to see the positives as you did spend a majority of your day helping him but… you made a lot of mistakes. It was ok! He fixed them with the help of others!

***

Later that evening, you did indeed surprise Thoma at the estate, bringing him some of his favorite snacks and drinks. Thoma was more than happy to have you over and asked you to wait in his room while he finished up some work for Ayato.

On your way to Thoma’s room, you heard the other maids talking. It was about you.

“Yeah, well she tried but we still had to clean up after her.” One of them said, making the other chuckle.

“I think it’s nice of her.”

“Not if we still have to do the work.” A third one mentioned, which broke your heart. “Yeah, if she does it and it’s a day off for us, that’s great. But we had to clean up anyway.”

“Ok, but we clean every day. So what’s the difference today?” The second one argued to which the first and third shrugged their shoulders.

“Just saying, it felt like she created more work for us to do than help us.” The maids moved on to another topic, but you stood there- absolutely humiliated. Is that what you did?

Your legs slowly moved until you were in Thoma’s room but you just stood there in the middle of the room. The bag slipped from your hand and hit the ground with a thud but it barely phased you.

You… didn’t help, you just made more work for them. You thought you were helping but that’s not what they thought at all. Now, it suddenly made sense why Thoma kept saying no and why he was fixing up that one mistake.

“(n/n)?” You heard behind you, making you whip around to see Thoma. His eyes held concern and he walked to you, bending down to pick up the bag before frowning at you. “What’s wrong? Are you crying? What happened?” He immediately set the bag aside and took your shoulders. “Don’t cry, what’s wrong? Did someone say something to you? Did someone hurt you?” Thoma stood there in a moment of silence as he gave you a minute to just think.

Finally, you spoke up and the way your words came out broke his heart. Your tone was filled with sorrow and embarrassment, there was even a slight hint of pain.

“Did I make you guys clean up after me?” Thoma’s eyes widened a little and he fell silent. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t want to lie to you but he also didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Besides, it looked like you already figured it out, so lying would just hurt you further.

“Yes… we did. There were… a lot of spots you missed. So we just had to go back and fix those. It didn’t take too long if that’s what you’re worried about. Took us a fraction of the time than it usually would.” But they did end up working later than usual.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t intend to make more work for you guys.” Thoma shook his head and took your shoulders.

“It’s fine, (n/n), it’s not as serious as you think.” He said, trying to assure you. “Besides, like I said, this was your first time so you don’t hold it against yourself.”

“Right.” You replied, not really affected by his attempt to lift your spirits. It was clear you were no longer wanting to speak about the topic, so he just let it go.

You didn’t stick around for too long, finding some excuse to leave after about thirty minutes- which was fine seeing as how the entire time was super awkward. Thoma tried making conversation but you weren’t into it. So it was best you left.

For the next few days, Thoma didn’t see you around the estate at all. He barely even heard about you from the others. When he went out to the city to buy some things, he didn’t see you there either. He asked all your friends who hadn’t spoken to you in days. With every coming no, Thoma’s concern grew further and further until he could no longer contain it.

Thoma went to your home, knocking on the door and kept doing it until you eventually opened up. You seemed… tired. Your expression made Thoma frown as he leaned in and touched your face. You almost flinched and stepped back.

“Can I help you?” You asked curtly, as if you were trying to rush this interaction.

“Are you ok, (n/n)? What’s wrong? I haven’t seen you in days and I’m really worried about you.” Thoma said, his voice expressing the concern he felt. You looked away, unsure of how to reply.

“Everything’s ok, I just needed some time to myself.” You replied, placing a hand on the doorframe.

“Y-you’re hurt!” He exclaimed as he saw your bandaged hand. You immediately hid your hand behind you, taking another step back.

“Nothing, it was just an accident. Look, I gotta go- things to do.” You said as you tried to shut the door, but Thoma stopped you. It was one of the rare occasions in which he used your actual name instead of your nickname.

“(y/n). Please. What is going on with you? Did I do something? I’m sorry, tell me what it is and I’ll fix it. Please!” His eyes were wide with both desperation and fear. The more you stared, the more guilt you felt creep into your chest. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, you showed him both of your hands, which were covered in bandages.

“It’s not what you think, I just burned myself while learning how to cook.” Thoma’s warm hands took yours every so gently- as if he were worried that he’d add to the wounds.

“Wh-why are you doing that?” Not that it was a bad skill to learn, but why like this?

“Because…” you mumbled, looking up at him, “I… can’t clean well. So, I thought I might be more useful with cooking. Turns out, I suck at that too.” Thoma just stared for a moment before he pulled you in for a tight hug. He couldn’t say anything for a good few moments as he held you close to him. “Thoma?”

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think you couldn’t do anything.” He murmured, making you shake your head.

“It’s not your fault. I just felt bad because I was making you guys do extra work.” You replied as you hugged back, leaning into him a little.

“That’s not it at all though, (n/n), I never once thought that. Everyone messes up in the beginning but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He slowly pulled away, taking your hands in his again. “Did you burn yourself?”

“Burns and cuts, yeah. They don’t really hurt anymore- I’m fine.” You said, trying to pull your hands back but his grip tightened.

“You can’t say that when you’ve gotten to this point.” You frowned at his words, but didn’t move. “I… can teach you, if you want.”

“You w-wanna teach me how to cook?” You asked with a tilt of your head to which he nodded.

“Yeah, it’s an important skill. If you’re willing to learn, why don’t we do it together?” He offered, making you fall in thought. You’d done all this because you were embarrassed but he clearly wanted to help. Not to mention… you were hopeless without him.

“O-ok, sure.” You said with a nod, before sighing in defeat. Thoma only smiled and ruffled your hair.

“Come on, let’s take a look at these wounds and see if there’s anything we need to do to take care of them.” He said as he walked into your home, shutting the door behind you two.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin thoma x reader #genshin impact thoma #thoma x reader #female reader #🖊─ pocky’s writings

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kerubimcrepin · 3 months

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Episodes 27-29 - Ecaflip City (part 1)

I am forever fascinated by the portrayals of ecaflip spirituality we get in this show. Like, home shrines, milk altar offerings...

Kerubim's body language and inflections are very interesting here: he's a bit unsure of himself, but so enthusiastic about telling Joris.

You can just tell that this story means a lot to him.

My new headcanon is that he stopped living in Bonta with her (like he probably had in episodes 50 and 26) because the house is hers, and that made him feel inadequate.

I joked about Kerubim cheating on her while searching for Ecaflip city to propose to her, during past episodes where he is depicted as searching for the city, but it could be that finding it has always been his goal, and wanting to marry her is a whole new quest that ties into this?

But also — she was already his fiancée in the last episode, and it didn't exactly stop him from making questionable decisions.

This moment allows some new insight into Kerubim's thoughts on himself: while he may act cool, he really does feel undeserving of love. Probably a mix of Lou's being very mean (but I really doubt that she would be mean enough to say this) and his shitty self-esteem.

He really does have just... 30-50 different complexes, ranging from "my nasty personality makes everyone leave anyway" to "I'm poor and don't have a home" to "I'm not manly enough".

I want to like... Put him in a blender and mix in some anxiety medication, maybe. Perhaps that would help.

This question will be asked later by the show itself, but, is he really doing this for Lou, or is he doing this for himself?

I don't mean this in a "he's selfish" way, I mean this in a "he doesn't think he's good enough as he is... that's very sad" way.

Instead of gambling, he should have been a shopkeep from the get-go.

He's like a redditor that got into stock trading: a tragedy in the making.

If Kerubim isn't lying, — and I had sworn to take everything in this show at face value unless suggested otherwise by the narration — this moment may show us that it is true, that his other attempts at finding Ecaflip city were before he decided to marry her, and really committed to it.

You see, in episode 50, which, as we established, happens before Ecaflip City, he says that they stopped lying to each other after that story — which wouldn't entirely fit with him still flirting with girls and betraying her trust, while searching for the city.

But if those searches happened before, and he decided to continue them due to wanting to marry Lou? That would mean that he's changed for the better. At least a little bit.

She likes his dirty jokes. I don't have much to say, other than that this moment makes me sad. They were so cute together...

The menu seems to say "URM", but it's very stylized, so I am not sure.

Besides Kerubim being so addicted to gambling that it's ruining his personality and speech patterns, and also him probably being blasted with Ecaflip's luck buffs to the point of having prophetic fucking visions, — I think also points to Kerubim being lethally addicted to making people he likes happy, to the point of not seeing when it makes them uncomfortable.

He'll agree to do things with his loved ones — only to change plans later, when he realizes he's actually busy.

He'll go on a random, useless quest, to do something insane for love, and it'll just make things worse.

He'll be reassuring people that everything is going to be okay, when the thing they actually need is an acknowledgement of how bad things are. Et cetera, et cetera.

He has serious issues with understanding other people's emotions, and gets blind-sided when people he loves get mad at him for what he thought was the best course of action. (Totally not me foreshadowing what happens between him and Joris in the movie. Haha.)

I feel bad for him.

[gestures vaguely at all the times we've seen him shitfaced drunk in the series, and the horrid decisions this has led him to] [gestures vaguely to him constantly gambling and losing stuff, like, y'know, in the previous episode]

uhhh. All I can offer as commentary to this moment is this funnypost I made a while back on my main blog.

Keke you are so fucked, but you've been fucked for like, decades before this, so you are now mega-fucked. It's just over.

I'm,. so normal and sane and not sad about this.

Again, for all her faults, she really loved him, the way he is (even if sometimes he annoyed her, even if sometimes she used his weak spots to make him do things). I'm so fucking sad it didn't work out.

I just keep mentioning the fact that they both suck because I want to be fair to the two of them. What happened in Ecaflip city, despite her flaws, was Kerubim's personal failing.

...God. They're so special to me.

Guys, um... I don't think God Ecaflip likes to see Kerubim being happy and on good terms with people who aren't him.

Man. That evil fucking cat...

This here, folks, is why my deepest conspiracy theory is that Ecaflip is the reason Kerubim and Atcham lost their family.

He's evil enough to ruin a marriage in this episode, and Wheel of Destiny #8 does imply that Ecaflip was manipulating Kerubim to dislike Atcham (with his, y'know, threats of being able to make him "just as disliked and ugly" as Atcham. Normal father/god behaviour. Totally not the reason Kerubim is so scared of people disliking him. Haha.)

So what stops him from y'know, maybe, perhaps, killing their family a little bit?

Krosmoz is already inspired by Greek mythology. Evil god behaviour is just par for the course, y'know?

One may say: "Well, Ecaflip does these things to Kerubim to test him and his moral compass."

And I answer: I think it's very cruel to test the moral compass of a person, after knowingly breaking said person's moral compass with decades of mind games.

#ep27-29 #ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #kerubim crepin

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