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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years

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better luck next time

a/n: bullying, manipulative behavior, noncon touching/groping, power dynamic(s), possessive/obsessive behavior, dark content, reader is genuinely distressed

pairing: bully! eren x fem!reader ft armeeen

The blond merely thins his lips, and you wonder why the silence feels so heavy in the air. You had just spilled your heart out (not all, some things you needed to keep to yourself) and all you're met with is a pregnant pause.

Armin clears his throat, eyes not meeting yours, "Thank you for sharing this with me. I know this must be difficult and we will do our best to...see that you get the help you need."

There's another awkward silence. You part your lips but don't say anything, and your body sticks to the leathery chair. The student council's president's office is nice, with all dark wood paneling and large windows. The kind of place you had no business in being.

You can't help your leg from bouncing like crazy, a nervous tic you formed ever since you were very young.

He clears his throat again, "We commend your bravery but please beware that serious allegations require a serious and heavy investigation."

"Wait, I" you interrupt a second time, bunching up your skirt in your fist in a frazzled gesture, "I don't need anything like an investigation."

You look downwards, averting the ocean of his eyes.

"What you're asking for," Another sigh, silence in the room except for the squeak of chairs and incessant tapping of your foot "...Is something that we don't oversee."

Meekly you respond, "I don't think I'm asking for a lot. I just...don't want to be around him."

"I don't have the authority to impose tha-"

"No," You cried out desperately, "You do. You do. I'm not asking for anything--he can have everything. His spot on the team, scholarships, whatever-I don't care!"

The voice crack at the end of your sentence doesn't go unnoticed and the blond with his impenetrable composed demeanor merely looks at you with the slightest of pity in his eyes.

"I'll see what I can do."

Your head snaps forward and words of gratitude rush out of your mouth, so distracted you don't hear the doors open.

"Damn Armin, did I leave my water bottle here again-?"

The world stands still. Too shocked to turn around, you know that voice from anywhere. Could pick it apart from the loudest crowd you've ever known.

No time for you to pray that he won't see you. But maybe he has some supernatural sense because you can practically hear the smirk in his voice when he addresses the blond: "Woah Armin, didn't think you knew my favorite girl."

This time you turn around.

Eren in all of his glory, wet dark hair clinging to his forehead, clad in a t-shirt that showed off his muscles, and a pair of school shorts that sat low on his carved hips. He must have come up straight from practice.

"You can't just come here whenever you want Eren-" The blond sounds more exasperated than stern.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." He says dismissively, not sounding particularly sorry. He paces around the office like it's a second home like it's a space he's used to infiltrating and having no respect for.

You're not hyperventilating. No, you're still. Like a body of water. Like an undisturbed river.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder. He smells soapy, he must have just had a shower. A shower to wipe all the impurities of the day you muse.

"Didn't know y'two were friends." There's no real threat to his words but they're spoken carefully as if warning the other to tread lightly. Armin glares at the green-eyed boy, "Don't draw conclusions from nothing. Miss [] merely used the proper channels to address a matter to the council."

Your heartbeat thrums in your chest like a caged songbird begging to be let free. You stand up from your seat so fast it would have sent you in a dizzying spell if not for the iron-clad grip on your wrist holding you down. He's half crouching, but in a second, like it's second nature, manhandles your body until you sit on his lap, thighs splayed open.

Maybe he doesn't deserve the blame when you just let him like your body was just following routine. Like it's done this before.

"Oh? What was the matter?" A hand rubs your thigh, fingers tracing out circles underneath your skirt to access the soft flesh underneath.

The blond averts his eyes, "That c-conduct is not appropriate."

The dark-haired boy rolls his eyes, "Not what I asked." He pinches the fat of your thigh, and you're too scared to even whimper, "She likes this." He reminds you of a shark in the way he bares his teeth, but he's too cunning to be a shark.

"We keep our discussions with the student body confidential." He could have sounded so assertive if not for the way his voice waned.

Eren leans further into the leather chair, and you're mortified. Armin's face is bright red and you hope he can't see your panties from this angle.

"Oh is that so?" Eren hums, green eyes following the minute hand of the clock.

"Well if it's confidential..." Hands cup your breasts and you hold in your breath, and soon nimble hands begin unbuttoning your blouse, "Guess what's said here can't really leave this room, right?"

The blond doesn't look away, as if transfixed by the color and lace of your bra, the skin spilling over. But he finds himself within a moment's notice: "Eren...leave."

A pause.

"And take her with you."

#bully eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #toxic eren #attack on titan fic #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan drabbles #attack on titan fanfiction #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #eren yeager x you #eren x y/n #eren x reader #eren yeager x y/n #attack on titan au #armin arlet imagines #armin arlert fanfic #tw manipulation #tw dark content #tw noncon touching

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limenysnocket · 2 years

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With Love, Ayoade

SEQUEL TO "With Care, Ayoade". ENJOY.

Summary: Beyond the Christmas crashing fiasco when you two first locked eyes, you have finally found the time to spend time together. Ah, Valentine's day. No one wants to be alone on Valentine's.

Warnings: YOU WILL BE UNCOMFORTABLE AT SOME POINT. Swearing, drinking (and eventual drunkenness), gossip, infidelity.

A/N: this goes out to my lovesick homies all over the world. Happy Valentine's Day.

@honorarytenenbaum

•○●•○●•○●•

All over the world, sweethearts and significant others delivered boxes of too sweet chocolates, delightful roses that were doomed to die within a week, and teddybears that were stuffed with labor as well as love. Richard, however, was only delivering letters. Why?

"It appeals to the overrated stereotype that you need to buy an expensive gift to get the affection of others. The social pressure is horrifying," he had told you once in a letter to you after you had asked about Valentine's. You really wanted to ask if he would like to go out on that evening,, since you both had never been on a traditional or discussed date with each other. No one, still, had made the first move. Originally, if only he had responded more positively, you would have asked if he wanted to have dinner. Now, you purposely avoided the question altogether. If something were to happen, then it would happen. And something did happen, of course.

"I need you to attend this weird Valentine double date thing with me and my friends," you pleaded, standing on Richard's front step at the touch of dusk.

"This is totally going against our relationship code right now," Richard, so used to communicating via letters, complained. "You're breaking our bro code. And a little warning would have been nice."

"Can we not talk about the bro code? Please, this is important!"

Richard begrudgingly listened to your heart's every quip with his arms folded over his cream colored sweater vest. Apparently, this entire mix up was a massive mistake and you had to pay the price for your inability to focus on certain conversation pieces.

You had gone to lunch with your favorite friend group, and the quiet chatter of the table lulled you into autopilot while you, simultaneously, chewed on a leafy salad. Everything was all calm until your name was spoken out loud to get your attention. You looked up, surprised and mid-chew on a crouton. Staring back at you was a friend named Alex and her eager-enough looking boyfriend from across the table.

"Well?" Alex primed expectantly. "What about you, (Y/N)? Could you do it?"

Your teeth halted to a grinding stop on your crouton. You felt embarrassed for not listening in on the conversation but refused to admit it. So, instead of asking to repeat the question, you shrugged your shoulders and muttered a very cautious, "Yes?"

"You don't have to! We just really don't want to be there alone! It's special!" Alex went on, and you picked at a piece of spinach stuck in your teeth.

"No, no, I can do it!" Now insisting on your own. Although, you still had no idea what it was, until someone who wasn't Alex or her dopey boyfriend explained it to you. It was time to face the music and you would not, could not, face it alone.

So, there you stood, dressed in your finest evening gown with your makeup done to perfection, asking for Richard's help.

"I'm honestly very flattered, but..." Richard had to look away for a minute, the slightest bit flustered. "Do I have to, really?"

"Yes, you have to!" You begged once more. "C'mon, Rich," you grew softer for him, which made him flustered further. You leaned forward on your toes, approaching him, just to be closer. "Just this one time? For me?"

"God damn you, woman, with your eyes," Richard turned his eyes up to the ceiling to avoid your doe-like gaze. It was too much for him to take. After a prolonged silence and a very quiet whine, Richard huffed an agreement. "Fine."

You waited patiently in the foyer while he dressed for the occasion, clicking the sides of your heels together, wishing like Dorothy that this night wouldn't end in spectacular failure. You closed your eyes. "There's no place like home. There's no place like home," you dreamed outloud.

"Gone mad, have we?" Richard broke your faint plea from the stairway. He was watching you the entire time, and he was very amused. He had also traded his sweatervest and slacks for one of his more gaunting, colorful suits. He claimed to be an introvert, but with suits like his, he's bound to get some attention from somebody.

"Can we go now? You take longer than me to get ready, and that's including hair and makeup," you whined, trying not to show your embarrassment to him.

"Of course we can go," Richard sighed, "but you must promise me something." He stepped down to your level and offered his arm for you to take.

"Should I be worried?" You wondered with a smile.

"There's nothing to worry about," he opened the front door and turned to close and lock it. "I only request that we only stay for no longer than an hour."

"Only an hour? That's so short," you shrugged, "and who knows how chatty Alex will be once she gets a few glasses of wine in her."

"My social battery cannot withstand more than that, unless it's with you," he made the exception, "and I'd prefer to be staying at home, reading of romance rather than experiencing it."

You took his arm again and he lead you to the end of the sidewalk to hail a cab on the main road.

"Have you ever written anything romantically engaging?" You asked him during the ride to the restaurant where you would meet Alex and her boyfriend.

"I don't believe so," Richard said and fiddled with his tie. "I've never been a big fan of it. It's always been too sappy for me to enjoy."

"Romance isn't always sappy," you reasoned, "it's heartbreak too, you know."

"I'd never read a book to purposely make myself sad or yearn for something," Richard cocked, "I read books to learn from their moral values."

"Ayoade On Top has moral values in it?"

"Hush," he silenced you before you even got the slimmest chance of messing with him. You snuck in a few verbal proddings, though. Just for fun.

"We should have a safe word," Richard suddenly suggested, much to your surprise. The cab slowly veered to the curb and lurched into a stop.

"A safe word?" You want to laugh.

"Just in case either of us gets uncomfortable and wants to leave." His idea was... kind of smart, actually. You had never felt all too comfortable around Alex. Her flamboyant personality was too much to bear sometimes, and when she was with her boyfriend, she was at her worst. You often wondered if that guy was okay. Blink once for yes. Blink twice for no.

"Alright, then," you sigh, peeking out the window to see the bustling street and the warm lights of the buzzing restaurant. "What word would be appropriate for a comfortable dinner setting?"

You saw him place his hand on his right pants pocket and fiddle with it for a moment. He hummed.

"Salad fork," he mused.

"Absolutely not. That's two words. We need one," you shook your head and smiled.

"Then how about..." he thought, again, for a moment, "Booner."

"Booner?" You asked. He nodded. You paused, mulling it over, then shrugged. "Booner it is, then."

With a hesitant smile, Richard opened his door next to the curb and slid out of the cab. You did the same on your side. You regrouped with him on the curb and clung to his arm. You were undoubtedly more nervous about this than he was. Richard was kind enough to guide you inside, where you both would be spotted by Alex, beckoned over, and forced to take a seat where the double date would officially commence.

You were seated in a crescent-shaped booth towards the shady end of the restaurant. Richard sat on the end, next to you. Alex sat on the other end, next to her boyfriend. It started with polite small talk, then ordering food and drinks. After that, you knew everything was about to take a plunge downhill.

"So, how did you two meet?" Alex was the one who liked talking the most. She had been keeping Richard occupied with a personal interview while scraping at her food with her fork, moments before hand. You weren't sure, but you thought you felt a waft of jealousy coming out of her words.

"We've lived across the street from each other for quite some time, as you might know," you decided to handle this question and spare Richard. As a thank you, he placed his hand on your knee and gently squeezed it. This was the first physical advancement he had made to you. "We met for the first time on Christmas, when I locked myself out of my apartment. Richard came to my aid, and made me feel really comfortable. We've been writing letters to each other since." You set your hand on top of Richard's and ran your thumb along the back of it. Richard was still quiet, but you could see he was flattered by the way he stole glances at you or smiled at the table.

The sensation of jealousy was stronger now. Alex picked up her glass of wine and took a long, slow sip as you capped off your brief love story.

"You know," Alex started and you braced yourself, "I've never heard of a celebrity going out with a common girl. How does that relationship work, exactly? I bet it's super hard, isn't it Richard?" Alex clicked her tongue. Richard twitched beneath the table, then reached out to take a drink of his water before answering. It was hard to say you both were dating, when you really weren't. Neither of you had asked, nor have you even kissed, but Richard still played along. For your sake, thankfully.

"I actually enjoy it more than dating another celebrity," he answered truthfully, but starkly all the same. "It's quiet. And (Y/N) just so happens to be more beautiful than anyone I've ever been with. So, I'm happy. Happy with her." He spoke to the table. His hand remained on your knee, and he held tight. You knew he was being genuine with you and you had to hide the fact that your heart began to beat wildly and flutter within your chest.

Alex scrunched up her nose in annoyance and finished off the last of the glass. She beckoned to her dopey boyfriend for more, to which he was happy to respond by refilling her drink to the rim. You, on the other hand, were flattered beyond expectation. You knew Richard had a way with words, but you had only ever read them on pieces of paper. Never had you heard them out loud.

"Well, I'm so glad for the two of you," Alex muttered. "Fuck... I'm gonna go use the bathroom. All this talk about stupid fucking relationships makes me sick." She tore herself away from her boyfriend, who had been coddling her drunk ass. His smile never faltered, though. Alex shimmied her way out of the booth, and somehow managed to stand up. She swayed harshly. You'd be surprised if she actually made it more than two steps without falling flat on her face. But suddenly, she spun around and face you head on. "(Y/N)!" She cooed in a sappy, slurrish voice. "Why don't you come with me? We can have a little one on one girl chat, hm?"

You looked around the table for help. Richard was still looking down at the floor, and Alex's dopey boyfriend was still smiling, glancing from you to Alex. Alright, so no one would get you out of this. Great. You were so close to saying the safe word.

"Sounds like a plan," you put on a fake smile and gently removed your and Richard's hand off of your knee. He was reluctant, however. He wanted you to stay, but didn't know how to voice it. So, he remained quiet, and eventually didn't try to fight it. He slid out of the booth to let you out as well. You climbed out. Your hand brushed with Richard's as you left. He wished he could have held on to you for just a little while longer.

Richard sat back down at the booth while you helped Alex stumble to the little girl's room. Now, it was only him and Alex's boyfriend. Not the best situation. Richard just tried to keep his head down and mouth shut. His social battery was worn down to it's last.

"So you're Gadget Man, ah?"

Fuck.

"Man, I'd give anything to have the amount of money you must spend in a single day on that set."

"I was Gadget Man... there's a difference," Richard mumbled and looked up for a minute. Alex's boyfriend was looking right at him, laid back against the booth so nonchalantly. So menacingly.

"Ah ha, you're funny, Gadget Man," the dope chortled. "I'm Charles, by the way. Friends can call me Charlie. Alex doesn't really bother introducing me all that much, but I don't mind it." A sickly smirk spread across Charles' face. "With the ass she has, I learned to let her do the talking most of the time, and that comes with its own rewards." A waitress passed by and took up an empty wine bottle. Charles eyed her up, smirking. He reached out and touched her thigh with outstretched fingers. His thumb brushed against the hem of her short skirt. The waitress smirked, then walked away. "And sometimes, it pays to keep your mouth shut about other things too."

Richard's uncomfort grew. He missed you. He hoped you were doing well in that bathroom and he hoped you weren't going through a similar situation. But you were.

In the nearest bathroom in the dark recesses of the restaurant, you sat outside a bathroom stall, waiting, albeit impatiently, for Alex to stop puking her guts out. The night couldn't have gotten any worse, and you felt awful for it. You'd have to make it up to Richard somehow.

You began to pace about the bathroom, and eventually stopped in front of one of the glimmering sinks and mirrors. You decided to wash up a little bit. Maybe you could scrub some of the memories of watching Alex paint the walls of her occupied stall with her insides out of your mind. You wished that was possible, of all things.

Alex soon crawled out of her stall, stumbling about until she found you at the sinks. She came up right next to you and hunched over the next sink over. Her lipstick was smeared and drool piled up in the corner of her lips where the lipstick was the most caked on. She spat into the sink, then turned the handle until the faucet poured water down the drain. You didn't look at her. You washed your hands and kept your head down.

"Feeling better?" You asked.

"No," she answered blankly. "I still feel fuckin' awful. And you wanna know why?" You still didn't look at her. You heard the handle squeal and the faucet stopped running. "Because you... you worthless piece of shit." You flinched and backed away as she slapped a hand on your faucet. "You've got something that I want."

You had been gone for a long time. Richard's worry increased.

"So why pick her?" Charles clicked his tongue. "What does she have? Or is she just for show?"

Richard didn't move. He feared he'd say something that would offput the night entirely. He fiddled with his front pocket and the letter he kept inside it.

"For a man who I often think can't keep his mouth shut on screen, you're being awfully quiet... She must be for show, then... you've got somebody else on your mind? Tell me..." Charles tapped his fingers against the wooden table.

"You asked me what she had that the other girls don't," Richard took a deep breath. "Right?"

Charles nodded, and the drumming of his fingers stopped against the table. "Yeah. So, what is it? She good in bed or something or is she just your specific type?"

"She has something that neither you nor Alex have..." Richard continued. He reached for his wallet in his back pocket to bring out his card. As soon as you came back, you and him would be leaving.

"And what's that?" Charles chuckled cockily.

"Loyalty."

"I don't understand why you get to have someone like that," Alex yelled at you. While taking it, you were quietly begging for someone to come into the bathroom. Someone. Anyone. "Someone rich... someone famous... how can he even adore you?"

"Alex, you're overreacting. Please, calm down," you tried to reason with her. You could see the tears brimming in her eyes. Tears of hatred or tears of defeat? You weren't sure.

"Oh, please. I'm stuck with some cheating, sniveling brat who can't tell the difference from his brain and his balls!" A tear streaked down her hollow face and dislodged a gooey ball of mascara from the corner of her eye. "Oh!" She exclaimed, "I just want someone to love me... is that so fucking hard?"

For a moment, you felt sympathy for the poor woman. Alex had originally been the "leader" of the friend group. Her title and rank got to her head, and she was stripped of the title. For months, she had been trying to work her way back up to the top, but it was always events like these that grounded her. Back to the bottom, and a lonesome start to gaining power.

"Alex," you whispered faintly, "We've been friends for quite some time now, and I think it's my duty, as your friend, to tell you something."

Alex was furiously weeping now and the tips of her fingers were dewed with her smeared mascara. "What?" She said, sniveling.

You backed away and reached your hand back for the door. What you were going to say was going to hurt, but it needed to be said.

"Alex, you are a terrible person," you shook your head, and put on a face of bravery, "and if you want to be someone again, you need to stop using our friend group like a getting to know only you therapy session." You tugged the door open and quickly got behind it, just as Alex screamed in her fury.

Quickly and in a trance, you ran. You ignored all danger transpiring, pushed past all the people heading in your direction and called out, once you were close enough to the booth.

"BOONER!"

Richard heard it as a beckon call. Charles was still sitting, stunned, across from him.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you, Charles, but I'm afraid this date has come to an end. Alex is pleasant enough as well, but I don't think I'll ever be interested in conversing with you again," Richard shimmied out of the booth just as you came around the corner. "I bid you an awful evening."

Just then, you grabbed Richard by his arm, and, in a rush, made for the exit. Richard just barely managed to tip as you passed by the host of your table. The night may have been shit, but the service wasn't.

"I can't believe I actually screamed 'booner' in the middle of a restaurant," you sighed, as soon as you were far enough down the sidewalk to take a break from running.

"If you weren't going to say it, I was. Alex and Charles seem like nice people, but I, simply, do not care for them," Richard laughed then reached to hold your hand instead of having you hug his arm all night.

"You're absolutely in the right mind not to," you didn't blame him for not liking your 'friends.' "They're awful."

"You said it, not me," Richard grinned, then felt his letter crinkle in his pocket as he walked. "There's still time to turn the night around, you know? I don't know what happened in that bathroom for you, but I would certainly like to forget the experience I had over a cup of tea."

"Tea sounds so nice right now," you groaned in satisfaction of the idea.

"Then... how about my place?" Richard offered. You smiled down at the ground. You knew he originally didn't want to do anything for Valentine's Day, and you knew this is far from how things were supposed to go, but you were so glad he could look past all of that, and want to still spend some genuine time with you.

"I'd really like that," you whispered to him.

Richard took you to the nearest streetcorner and hailed another cab for the two of you to share. You didn't mess with him on the way home, this time. You cuddled close to him to show him your appreciation. He showed his appreciation back by wrapping an affectionate arm around your shoulders and holding you tight.

He warmly invited you into his abode and had you sit in the living room while he got his kettle on the stove. He even went as far as to froth milk for the occasion.

"It's not everyday that I have guests over," Richard said from the kitchen, "so why not make things a little fancy?"

You appreciated the effort. He brought out two steaming cups of tea and set it on the coffee table in front of you. He, then, sat down in a comfy chair on the opposite side of the table from you.

"Valentine's Day has never appealed to me, you know," Richard starts. You nod and reach for your cup of tea. "The only thing that really made me happy was the sweets I would get, but I understand now that not everyone feels the way I do. Like you, for example... and you're one of the last people I want to hurt for not liking a specific holiday." Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter that had been there since he first left the house. "This was going to be left in your mailbox this afternoon. That was, until you came to the door in a hurry," Richard placed the letter in front of you on the table.

You set your cup down, smiling. "You really didn't have to, Richard," you murmured and reached for the letter. He insisted, however, and urged you to open the letter anyway. With a smile, you tore it open and tugged the note out. Surprisingly, it wasn't the normal note card with the Sakura tree on the front. It was a Valentine's Day card. On the front, it had a jolly little bee buzzing about. In big, bold letters it read, "BEE MINE?" You glanced up at Richard. He seemed eager. For his sake, you opened the card to see his fanciful handwriting.

Inside, the card itself provided another sappy note. "We bee-long together." You kept reading to his note to you.

To D6,

There are many ways to display one's affections to another without the use of expensive gifts or sweet candies. Your company has been fulfilling to me over these past few months, and every day that I do not tell you how much I care for you eats at me.

This note doesn't express my gratitude or my feelings towards you. So, I ask to meet in person. I'd like to invite you to dinner with me, if that is okay. I want to get to know you in person, and I want, for once, to spend this holiday with someone. If this is acceptable, please respond in any way that you find necessary. I can only hope for the best.

With love, Ayoade.

Beside his signature, there was a little doodle of a bee. You just stared for a moment, going every word twice to make sure you weren't going insane.

To break the silence, Richard spoke. "Would you have accepted my offer?"

Your eyes shot right back up to him. Your lip quivered, but you smiled. You nodded. Richard, then, smiled as well.

"I'm glad," he whispered, then looked down at the two warm cups of tea. He reached for his, then proudly held it up. "Happy Valentine's Day to you, (Y/N)."

You picked up your tea cup as well and held yours out with his. Your cup clicked with his like a cheers to the holiday. "Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Richard..."

#Spotify #fanfiction #richard ayode x reader #richard ayoade imagines #richard ayoade fanfic #richard ayoade x reader #richard ayoade

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collapse-and-comfort · 3 years

Note

A normally strong whumpee, who usually ensures the caretaker (in a friendly way) that they’re okay after an injury. But now, the whumper broke them😈, emotionally and physically. Home now, in pain and still terrified that the whumper will return, they grab the caretaker’s hand, pleading “please, don’t go.” The caretaker comforts the whumpee, while fighting the anger inside of what the whumper did to the one they care about/love.

Oh my goodness! This is awesome! I’m pretty sure I’ve stated loudly and emphatically on multiple occasions implied before that I’m an absolute slut for aftermath and comfort! (I actually surprised myself by trying something new and using a romantic dynamic between Whumpee and Caretaker.) Thank you so much for this ask; it gave me so many feels! I hope you enjoy! 🥰

It’s just a trip to the store in the middle of a blazing, bright afternoon, but that doesn’t stop Caretaker from fantasizing about leaving and finding Whumper on their own. And when they found Whumper? Their imagination was vivid, but in that regard it felt stunted. They didn’t know where Whumper was and maybe that was for the best.

Caretaker moved from the kitchen to the den.

“Hey, hun, is there anything else we need from the-”

Whumpee sat hunched on the couch. They looked up at Caretaker with wide, unblinking eyes. Caretaker crossed the short distance between them and put a hand on one of Whumpee’s shoulders.

“Oh, Whumpee,” they said. They stopped shy of asking what was wrong. Because they knew. They fucking knew. Whumpee had been like a shadow since their release from the hospital earlier that week. Now they were trembling beneath Caretaker’s touch and staring at them as though they could neither understand nor express what was hurting them. “Hey, hey, I’m here.”

Caretaker thought back to all the times they’d seen Whumpee asleep on that couch, often with a book open on their chest. The possibility that they’d never see that again, that that person had been completely broken because of what Whumper had done to them made Caretaker’s breath catch and their brain itch.

Caretaker’s assurance that they would never let Whumper near them again fell short and they moved their hand away, suddenly feeling unworthy of the contact. Whumpee grabbed their hand with both of theirs. The movement boasted the snappish speed of a panicked creature. Whumpee’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was surprising.

“Do you need something for the pain?” Caretaker prompted. They knew Whumpee would never ask on their own.

“No,” they said as they shook their head and looked with hollow eyes where their hands were joined. Whumpee was frozen, as though they didn’t know how to move, or what to do. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just…”

“Honey, it’s okay,” Caretaker said when Whumpee began to weep. They moved their free hand to cover the back of Whumpee’s and gave a tiny squeeze before using their palm to caress it. “Tell me what you need.”

Nothing, Caretaker expected to hear. I’m good. I’m fine. You worry too much. I’ve never been better.

But the gentle rebuff didn’t come and heat spiked up over Caretaker’s skin.

“Please, don’t go,” Whumpee said. Their voice was a hoarse whisper and that was more worrisome to Caretaker than a scream. Whumpee didn’t seem to notice when tears slid down their face. “I’m sorry. I can’t...I don’t want to be a-alone. I can’t be - be alone.”

They both knew it was just a trip to the store. Caretaker didn’t need to say it. Caretaker had barely left Whumpee’s hospital room, and they’d barely been out of each other’s sight since they returned home. They certainly wouldn’t leave Whumpee now, not when there was such open need in their voice.

“I won’t,” Caretaker said.

Whumpee’s eyes shifted to the window, then to the space over Caretaker’s shoulder. Caretaker didn’t know what Whumpee was seeing, or what they expected to see, but their breathing escalated even more.

“Please don’t leave me,” Whumpee’s voice hitched and their wild, fearful gaze flashed up to Caretaker, searching their face. Their hands tightened on Caretaker’s hard enough that their knuckles braced together. “Please stay.”

“Of course, hun. I’m not going anywhere.”

Whumpee dragged Caretaker’s hand against their heaving chest and held it there like a precious talisman.

Caretaker knew they were the best person to take care of Whumpee - they would have throttled anyone who implied otherwise - but in that moment, they felt hopelessly out of their depth. How could they help Whumpee believe they were safe? How could they understand what they were feeling? What if they couldn’t help?

Whumpee’s head dipped and they began gulping in air through their mouth.

“Oh, honey, honey, honey,” Caretaker said as they knelt at Whumpee’s feet. They reached their free hand up and smoothed Whumpee’s hair before resting their palm on Whumpee’s cheek. “Shh, shh, shh. Whumpee. Baby, look at me, sweetie. Please look at me.”

Whumpee didn’t look up; they just continued to gasp and shudder.

“That’s okay,” Caretaker said. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I need you to breathe for me, though, yeah? Can you do that?”

Whumpee let out a choked sob, but they nodded.

“That’s good,” Caretaker said, relieved to have gotten a response at all. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Deep breaths.”

Caretaker felt Whumpee’s chest haltingly expand. Half way through the inhalation, a tiny whimper escaped Whumpee. It made Caretaker want to cry and rend Whumper limb from limb because maybe, just maybe that could make things better? They shoved the thought aside and they praised Whumpee when their breath rattled back out of them.

“That’s it,” Caretaker said as they kissed the top of Whumpee’s bowed head and continued to stroke their hair. “You’re doing so good. Just breathe.”

As Whumpee brought their breathing under control, their grip on Caretaker’s hand lessened. Finally, finally, Whumpee looked up at them. Their eyes were damp and puffy. And hurt. Caretaker moved Whumpee’s hands toward them and pressed their lips to one of them.

“I love you so much,” Caretaker said. They kept their voice at a whisper, as though anything more than that would shatter Whumpee all over again.

Whumpee sniffed and nodded. Their eyes lowered again, but the tension in their shoulders eased ever so slightly as they rested their elbows on their thighs. One of Whumpee’s hands released its hold on Caretaker’s and they ran the back of it over their eyes. Another sniff. When Whumpee looked back up at Caretaker, the beginnings of a teetery, fragile smile flickered at the corners of their lips. The sight was precious and horrible.

The things Caretaker wanted to do to Whumper for taking the brightness from Whumpee’s smile! All those bloody, remorseless, violent things. Whatever agony Caretaker could inflict on Whumper, it would never be enough.

Whumpee shed more tears, but they allowed them to fall to the ground.

“I…” Whumpee said. They cleared their throat and swallowed; their eyes focused on Caretaker’s face like they were studying it, like they were afraid they would forget the color of Caretaker’s eyes, or the planes of their face. The earnestness on Whumpee’s face made Caretaker forget their own breathing for an instant. “I wouldn’t have survived if I didn’t have you to come back to.”

Whumpee blinked, as though making that confession had broken a spell, or at very least lifted a weight from them. Their shoulders relaxed further and they scrutinized their bare feet.

After kissing Whumpee’s hand again and setting it down on their leg, Caretaker lifted themself and sat next to Whumpee. They left no space between them. They unconsciously mimicked Whumpee’s posture and then tentatively ran their palm down Whumpee’s back, then slowly, gently back up. For the moment, it was the only way Caretaker could respond. They kept up that tender motion and what was left of Whumpee - what had been returned - continued to relax.

“Come here,” Caretaker said as they leaned both of them against the couch’s back. Caretaker gave no indication of how they were seething. They didn’t think it was possible to hate one person so completely that it made breathing difficult. The more Caretaker thought about it, the more acceptable it became to let that hatred smother them. But their love for Whumpee eclipsed all of that.

It had to.

Whumpee slowly repositioned themself, resting their head against Caretaker’s shoulder and placing their hand on Caretaker’s stomach.

“I wouldn’t have survived if you didn’t come back,” Caretaker said as they ran their fingers through Whumpee’s hair. They fit together so well. They always had. And they always would, no matter how Whumper’s actions had whittled away at Whumpee.

Caretaker’s chin rested atop Whumpee’s head and their breaths both slowed to a soft rhythm as they dozed while he afternoon burned itself out.

They stirred in the stillness of an unremarkable evening and they stretched and sighed against one another. Caretaker withdrew their phone from their back pocket.

“Delivery?” they asked.

“Mmhm,” Whumpee said as they nodded against Caretaker’s chest.

Whumpee was quick to agree to pizza and Caretaker paused before calling their favorite place. The lack of discussion or bickering about dinner options needled Caretaker. No back and forth, no “I don’t know, what do you want to eat?” with varying degrees of good nature or annoyance.

Caretaker asked Whumpee about their preference for pizza toppings, but Whumpee shrugged and snuggled closer. Caretaker frowned, but kissed Whumpee’s head and resumed toying with their hair while they ordered enough food to have leftovers for the next day. Neither of them moved until the delivery driver arrived.

Caretaker’s rage was muted but still present, like the dull ache of unsatisfied hunger. It followed them as they and Whumpee went about the remainder of their evening.

Shower. Pills. Bed.

Caretaker sensed that would become their routine and as they helped Whumpee on with a nightshirt. They smoothed the front of the shirt down and decided there were worse foundations to build on.

They laid in bed, Whumpee on the flat of their back and Caretaker curled on their side, watching Whumpee’s familiar outline in the darkness. They wanted to put their arms around Whumpee, or to have Whumpee’s arms around them. They soothed themself by breathing in Whumpee’s scent. Clean and warm. And there. Their fingertips traced leisurely circles on Whumpee’s forearm.

“Promise me something?” Whumpee said. They sounded so much more like themself.

“Anything.”

“Don’t go after Whumper.”

#replies #anon #aftermath #comfort #caretaker is a ball of rage #but is still soft #romantic whumpee/caretaker #returns to domesticity #cuddles #naps #fear #@lurkingwhump #tagging you because I feel like you'll like this #but please don't feel obligated to read!#released into the wild

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teaandatale · 3 years

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @geekynerddemon who so lovingly wished for me to finish Layer on Layer. And though I haven’t been able to do so, I thought I would whet your appetite with a preview of Part 1 of my 2 Part Epilogue.

Please note this is a rough draft & subject to thorough revisions when I get the writing muse under control again.

Layer on Layer: Epilogue- PART ONE

“You see one painting, I see another, […] it’ll never strike anybody the same way and the great majority of people it’ll never strike in any deep way at all but—a really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular. Yours, yours. I was painted for you.” ― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Despite the scorching heat radiating from the sudden summer outside, Steve had turned the AC off while the sun blazed in through the windows of the loft’s living room where he’d been painting. He had his music turned up and he was humming as he worked.

Peggy had given him the custom made easel, sturdy, adjustable, gorgeous, no doubt pricey, as a gift. He’d been painting so much that Peggy had deemed it necessary he have an easel at her place, a designated space to work since he spent so much time there anyway. She had claimed is a selfish gift after he voiced concern about her being too generous, assuring him she looked forward to watching him paint from the comfort of her couch. And she often did, taking breaks from her work by watching him mix colors and paint broad strokes.

The first thing he had painted at his new easel was for her, another detailed flower arrangement, just for her.

After unveiling the final product of Ana’s anniversary painting, which reportedly made Ana cry, happy tears Jarvis assured, she had given Steve a tremendous hug and after their double date dinner, they discussed art for a long time, their significant others at their sides sipping tea opting to discuss the dessert spread instead. He’d been so happy and warm to sit there among her friends, her make-shift family, accepting and open to him. How he could possibly love Peggy more he didn’t fully understand other than that he was learning he did it with every passing day.

Not long after that, Peggy started suggesting dates at more art museums and galleries. She watched him paint and encouraged him to do it more broadly. To show his work. To do more commissions. He wasn’t sure about all that, but he did start to paint more and more. He’d started even transferring images out of his therapy journal into oils. He’d done several, even brought one in to show his art therapy group. They encouraged him to make a series, to show his stories on canvas.

Steve swirls his paintbrush into his yellows, ochres melding with browns.

He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.

He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.

“She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.

He looks up and sees Angie.

“Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”

Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.

“I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.

“We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”

Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”

Steve blushed further. “It’s hot in here but I prefer the breeze and the sunlight filtering in while painting so I turned the air conditioning off.”

“Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day.”

“We’re not living together.”

The yet goes without saying.

She giggled. “Yeah and when’s the last time you were at your place?”

“This morning,” he said defensively.

She just smirked and continue to devolve into giggles.

“You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”

He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”

She grinned. “You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?”

“Can I get you something? Water?” he asked, already headed into the kitchen.

“Water’s good.”

They say down in the living room together chatting.

“How was your flight? Did you have press today?”

“Yup. Did a few of the morning shows. I have a late-night show appearance tomorrow afternoon that I’m pretty excited about. I can’t believe they’re having me on it!”

“We’ll have to record it. Peggy and I have been watching every episode by the way. But we’re a few behind because I have to wait and watch them with her. But you’re our favorite!”

“Aw, shucks. I cannot believe you got Peggy watching network TV.”

He laughed. “No I got her to use Netflix. You got her into network TV. She says you’re the most believable, though she always figures out the plot twists before I do. Are you giving her spoilers?”

“No way! And give away the impact of my performances before she sees them? That’s definitely all English. How’s she been? Super busy?”

“A little, but less so recently. She had a busy few weeks before her conference with the EU but she’s been keeping a regular schedule lately, coming home for dinner most nights.”

“Guess I just got unlucky with my timing,” Angie replied. “But I’m glad Peggy’s been taking some time for herself.”

Steve nodded. He’d seen Peggy in all sorts of ranges of stress in the last ten months. He’d been so glad that she’d been taking more personal time off, delegating, taking care of her well-being, seeking out his support when she needed it. Of course she was a busy woman. That was a given. But she always tried to make time. She always took the effort to stay present when they spent quality time together.

She’d gone out of her way to support his painting. They’d spent so many evenings out, sipping wine and swinging by the latest “hot” opening only for Peggy to proclaim that his work was much better, more moving, worthy of his own showing.

He still wasn’t all too sure about the whole artist career, but he loved how supportive she had been. How much she cared. How much she believe in him. It was nice to know if nothing else, he had a fan in Peggy.

“I’ve been trying to make sure she’s been taking care of herself better.”

“Good. I already know how good you are to her. She’s always happy to talk about you. I wouldn’t have believed it before actually meeting you.”

He shrugs off the compliment, after all he didn’t want the praise for just being there for someone he loved. Besides she deserved it and more.

“Maybe she’s got held up in a meeting. I’m sure she remembers our reservation,” Steve said after another fifteen minutes without hearing from her. “I’ll try to call her again.”

He didn’t catch her, but he did leave her a message reminding her of their reservation and that he and Angie would meet her there. Steve changed quickly in Peggy’s room and then the two of them hailed a cab. Angie filled him in on some L.A. gossip and some stories of her cast mates. He liked how bright and bubbly Angie was. He liked hearing stories of how she and Peggy became friends. How Peggy had always believed in Angie becoming an actress, and how the two always had each other’s backs. He liked knowing there were people apart from himself that cared so much for her.

They were early for their reservation, opting for the bar while they continued to swap stories. He checked his phone once they were seated but there were no messages. Angie convinced him to split an appetizer as she was starving and he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”

Steve hummed, checking his phone.

“Wait. What did you say? You haven’t heard from her in that long?”

#geekynerddemon #steggy #my fic #I’m sorry I couldn’t get you the whole thing #may has been kicking my ass #also doing this on tumblr mobile was not fun #happy birthday friend!!

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olivinesea · 3 years

Text

In the Golden Dark, pt. 2

Part 1

a/n: This was already pretty much done so here you go. These parts are all rather short but that can be nice right? ~1.6k

i can’t concentrate if i keep seeing your face showing up in tea leaves lit up on my tv i can’t stand up straight under your gravity so i lay awake with my eyes closed

“Did you know 12% of people dream in black and white?”

“Wha-what?” Hotch groggily looked at the time on his phone. He had answered it blindly, autopilot kicking in to attend to the buzzing beside him on the couch. He blinked again and brought the phone back to his ear to hear Spencer’s voice more clearly.

“Yeah! It used to be a lot more when television was only in black and white but now that’s shifted obviously. Elderly people are still a lot more likely to have dreams that are—“

“Spencer,” Hotch interrupted the way the words were beginning to tumble out. When he was met with an abrupt silence he realized he didn’t have a follow up, he just needed a moment to breathe. To take in the dark living room, the flickering light of the television, its muted colors and grainy film showing a syndicated rerun, the kind only played in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, times when no productive person was meant to be watching. Something soft in its age, he found it comforting to put it on when he couldn’t sleep, woken again by nightmares that some monster had found their way to Haley and Jack. That they were suffering and he didn’t even know.

On the other end of the line, Spencer held his breath. He had been nervous about making the call, he wasn’t sure if it was too intrusive, too far across the boundaries they normally worked within. It wasn’t that he was worried about waking Hotch, he knew the other man was already awake. Even before they had started talking more, casually sharing details about the time they spent away from the office, it was obvious that Hotch did not sleep like a normal person. It was something else that they shared.

Seemingly endless minutes passed without another word from either man and his fear that he’d made a mistake grew. He told himself that Hotch was not pleased with the interruption. That he was being too assuming—why would Hotch be interested in anything he had to say at three in the morning? He’d called spurred on by the acute need to share a thought and, though he wasn’t totally conscious of it, a wish to hear that comforting voice, maybe even a quiet chuckle. He had smiled imagining that gentle sound, only he hadn’t realized it, the corners of his mouth moving without informing the rest of his mind. He touched his lips now with cold fingertips, running them over the dry skin, oblivious to the way his jaw clenched.

The silence between them hung like a bridge. There was a moment where both of them looked out at their respective living rooms, mentally steeling themselves to take a step and hope the other would meet them. Hope that they wouldn’t find themselves suspended over the water, alone as ever.

“I’m sorry for calling so late,” Spencer sounded so remorseful Hotch felt guilty immediately. He hadn’t meant cause him any anxiety with his long silence, he was just trying his best to gather his thoughts. To make sense of what he meant to do.

“It’s ok, really, I—“ Hotch hesitated, unsure how much detail to go into, how much reassurance was the right amount. He felt unreasonably awkward suddenly and twitched his fingers in irritation, “I wasn’t really sleeping anyway.”

“Really?” Spencer scrunched his eyes up, disliking the eagerness bleeding from his voice. He couldn’t help it though, the prospect of having the other man’s attention, even if it was only his voice reflecting from a satellite, knowing that Hotch was listening made him feel more secure. He’d spent too many restless nights pacing his apartment, starting and abandoning tasks in attempts to distract himself from the way the night was pressing uncomfortably close, threatening to overtake his mind. To have a friend to talk to, to reflect back his own reality, was a gift he could barely believe he deserved.

Hotch grunted as he adjusted himself on the couch cushions, supporting the back of his head on the pillows, resting the phone between his shoulder and ear. With his free hand he pulled up the blanket that had tangled at his feet. “Wide awake,” he said dryly. “What were you saying about dreams?”

Spencer’s smile was so big Hotch could hear it through the phone as the man stumbled ahead with the details of some completely unnecessary study. Hotch wanted to ask what had led to him reading such a thing but he was enjoying the happy way Spencer was running through all the new material he’d learned. He adored listening to Spencer speak, how he sometimes stopped short when remembering a related detail and how there’d be a pause while he took a split second to make the choice whether to jump to the new train of thought. Hotch smiled to himself and was pleased enough to offer hums of interest at inflection points. He let his eyes wander back to the television, as the title credits of another episode of Bonanza played across the screen, the pale wheat and horses and cowboys, already a distant fantasy in the 1960s, ancient history by today’s standards. His eyes fell half closed as he continued to listen to Reid’s voice.

“And, they just published a new study about how sleep deprivation decreases the body’s pain tolerance.”

Hotch snorted softly at this. “They really had to get a bunch of scientists together to figure that out? Someone paid for that?”

“Well it is always important to gather data and scientific evidence for these types of things. Anecdotal testimony won’t lead to any developments in the care for conditions like chronic pain,” Reid paused when he heard more quiet laughter from Aaron. He grinned.

“Do you want to hear something really crazy? They’ve found a connection between a person’s favorite sleeping position and their personality. Can you imagine!”

“Hmmph,” Hotch sank deeper into the cushions, settling in for whatever came next.

The calls became as regular as the midnight pancakes. Spencer would call with some piece of trivia, every night a new topic. He had a seemingly endless well of knowledge to draw on. In truth he spent the day trying to think of new ideas to share, new information he thought Hotch would appreciate. For no reason other than his own private satisfaction, he grouped topics thematically. This week they were going to be talking about space.

Now Hotch was ready, drowsy but checking his phone every few minutes to see if he’d somehow missed it ringing. He was looking at it yet again when it buzzed. He stared at the screen for a moment before answering, letting the name that flashed send a small thrill up his spine. He was not sure how it’d happened but he had come to rely on these calls. They still hadn’t discussed it, hadn’t acknowledged what this extracurricular time spent together might mean. They were simply seeking comfort, not questioning how this might be perceived outside these invisible moments.

“Hey Spence,” he barely got the words out before Spencer launched into that night’s prepared curiosities.

“Did you know most of the visible stars are actually multiple star systems? The singular stars are so much harder to see that astronomers used to believe that it was fairly uncommon to find a singular star like our sun.They hypothesized this was a contributing factor to why we hadn’t found evidence of extraterrestrial life. It is much harder for a planet to have the stability necessary for a habitable atmosphere with the potential fluctuations of a binary star system. Without as many single stars it made sense that it was exceedingly unlikely for life to form outside of our solar system.”

“I think it’d be nice,” Hotch murmured, not really thinking about what he was saying.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, ah,” Hotch stammered, a little embarrassed to have the comment acknowledged. He felt his neck growing warm as he tried to make out a reply. “Well, having two suns. I think it could be nice."  “Why?” Spencer was genuinely curious.

“Um, I guess, I imagine it would be warmer for one,” he paused before adding on, waiting to see what Spencer’s reaction might be. He could almost hear the wheels of his mind turning with all the reasons Hotch’s logic was faulty. He hurried on before he became too self-conscious to finish his thought. “And, I’ve just never really liked the night, all the darkness. Maybe with two suns we could have a little more light in the world.”

Instead of responding, Spencer remained quiet, surprised by this uncharacteristically whimsical thought. Hotch could feel his whole neck had turned red, along with the warming tips of his ears.

“I—I don’t really like the night either,” he tried to sympathize. “It can feel…overwhelming.”

They sat for a moment, not sure where to take this or how the facts had turned into feelings.

“I’m happy I have you to talk to though.”

It was simple, but it was true and sweet and Hotch smiled, closing his eyes to better absorb the words.

“I’m happy too, Spencer.”

Now they were both blushing, the depth of meaning behind these brief statements readily apparent. For a moment, feeling the heat dancing across his face, Hotch wondered if this wasn’t a mistake. Maybe he was allowing things to become something irresponsible, something he couldn’t so easily walk back. He pictured Spencer, sitting across from him, animated and full of life, pulling further away from the shadows that teased around the edges. It didn’t matter, he decided. It didn’t matter what this was, only that they had found a hand to hold through the night.

“So, what else have you got for me?”

~Part 3~

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #hotchreid #fluff

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shsldepressedlesbian · 3 years

Note

for the smut ask meme,,, maybe 74 with komahina? 😳 👉👈 (with bottom hajime bc that shits hot)

74: "Wow, I think you're blushing even redder than that vibrator inside you."

ao3

ah, yes, bottom!hajime... i was expecting and hopeful towards this HDHDHDH

please allow me to apologize for the wait 🙇‍♂️ there was one paragraph i had to write that im ashamed to say took me a good time to hype myself up to do JDJSJJS either way i hope u enjoy this!! even tho its been forever so im worried you might not get a chance to see this 😔

“So, it’s fine, right?”

Had he not grown used to it, Hinata would have been disturbed at the nonchalant grin on Komaeda’s face compared to his own already feeling incredibly hot at the very sight of the silicone object he held in hand.

...He really shouldn’t get flustered over this, however. Afterall, he’s already agreed and talked about this beforehand.

A simple discussion about Komaeda wishing to get a chance to use a vibrator on him. And of course, Hinata had agreed, finding it only fair with how many times he’s used one Komaeda.

And yet…

The one Komaeda holds is a simple penetrative kind, definitely new, with a noticeable red color. It certainly was far from large- but bigger then what Hinata had initially expected.

Perhaps he had just been expecting one of the small, stringed ones. Though, maybe a bigger one would be better…

As though sensing his hesitance, Komaeda falters. "Well, of course, if you changed your mind, we don't have to-"

"NO," Hinata interrupts, only to immediately bite his tongue at just how loud he had accidentally been. "No, it's fine. We've… already gotten me ready, anyhow."

Right. If he could handle Komaeda's dick and nonstop teasing, he could handle something as simple as this. Besides, he doesn't want to drag this out for too long.

Komaeda pauses for a second, before regaining his smile. "Ah, excellent, then. Could you… spread your legs for me, again, Hinata-kun?"

Another wave of embarrassment briefly hits Hinata at the request. It's not even that lewd- in fact, it should be expected- but that doesn't stop him from averting eye contact with Komaeda as he obeys, allowing his knees to fall apart and become exposed. In order to become more comfortable, he finally lays down on his back, pressing his head against the pillows below him.

He doesn't have to look at Komaeda to tell his expression, but in a way, that only gets his face to heat up again, turning his head away even more. Unfortunately, on his back, he can't bury his face in the pillows fully like he usually does.

Hinata bites his lip when he finally feels the head of the toy push against his lube-slicked entrance, but can't keep in the shaky, quiet gasp when it's being pushed further in him.

It… really is a different sensation. Completely different from the ones they had sometimes used on his outer body or, of course, Komaeda's cock.

It's cold from it's material and the coat of lube Komaeda had lathered on it, and while it doesn't hurt, it doesn't feel good yet, either.

"If it gets too much, you'll warn me, right?" His boyfriend asks, his warm voice already enough to get Hinata to calm down. Ah, he was the one who was making too much of a deal about this- of course, he could trust Komaeda. If it hurt, he'd pull it out in a second.

But instead of saying anything, Hinata merely nods, closing his eyes and instinctively holding his breath. He probably looks pathetic, like that, however, and so he brings his arms up to further cover his eyes from view.

Komaeda, at first, is incredibly gentle, like always. Pushing it in bit by bit, occasionally stopping whenever Hinata gave a noticeably rough shudder.

Still, Hinata isn't sure how much he can handle even that, considering it only seems to drag on the event, making the toy feel much longer than it actually is.

As though having read his mind, Komaeda, who also seemed to be kind of impatient, easily thrusted the rest of the toy into Hinata, all the way up to the hilt.

This doesn't go without a reaction, as at the unexpected fast pressure, Hinata let out a gasp, digging his nails into his own arms, having forgotten he didn't have them on the sheet.

There's a second of silence, as he gets used to the deep intrusion, before Komaeda gives a hesitant, "are you okay?"

Hinata once again responds with only a nod. Despite him having not expected it, it hadn't hurt, per say- but it still felt a little strange, and uncomfortable.

Or, so it did, before he distinctly felt Komaeda grab the hilt, gently dragging the toy out, and before Hinata can object, quickly pushing it back in, brushing his prostate head on.

Another cry leaves his throat, as his arms leave his face in order to properly grasp the pillow beneath him- only to catch sight of Komaeda's face, who looks as though he's finding the greatest possible joy from this, face dusted with red but focusing intently on Hinata's body, flickering from his face to see his reactions to his entrance and at his psychical reactions.

At the sheer arousement of his gaze, Hinata once again covered his face with an arm, heat and embarrassment filling his senses.

Komaeda, however, merely chuckles at this.

"Aha, sorry, was that too much?" His voice is as cheerful as usual, but it has a certain undertone to it Hinata could only describe as sultry. "I just wanted to make sure I memorised all those spots correctly. Afterall, with these kinds of things, you sort of need to do the whole 'back and forth' to get the most pleasure. At least, that's how it is for me."

Hinata can't get any words out of his throat, and so he once again responds simply, this time with a small grumble. Komaeda seems to also find humor in this.

"Here, Hinata-kun," and he takes a hold of the arm Hinata was using to cover his face, pushing it out of the way.

Hinata had kept his eyes open this time, and in this position, he had no choice but to make eye contact with Komaeda. He doesn't find it much fair that he looked much more stable then himself, aside from the obvious arousal.

In fact, he looks almost amused, and Hinata is reminded of why exactly he enjoyed keeping his head buried in pillows.

"Wow," is his unneeded observant, "I think you're blushing even redder than that vibrator inside you."

This is what finally seems to get the words out of Hinata, somehow finding it in himself to be peeved despite the current situation. "Well, obviously, you ass," he objects, covering Komaeda's face with his hand, though not with enough pressure to actually push him away, much less hurt him. "When you do shit like this, I…"

"Aha, are you actually peeved at me?" Luckily Komaeda didn't take the wrong idea from this, merely grabbing ahold of the hand used to block him and entwining it with his own, in order to properly pin it beside Hinata's head. "Apologies, then. It's hard for me not to tease you when your reactions are so… cute."

Ah, that word again. With how many times he's used it when they're together like this, Hinata would figure it was one of Komaeda's favorite words.

He opens his mouth to say something, though he's not sure exactly what yet, only for Komaeda to seize that opportunity to bring their mouths together.

It's embarrassing just how easily Hinata finds himself melting into the kiss, allowing himself to shut his eyes and fully revel in the feeling of their tongues together.

It's undignified and sloppy, but it's enough to get him into a bit of haze, to the point where when Komaeda pulls away and warns that he's going to "turn it on", he isn't quite sure what he means until it's too late.

Luckily, Komaeda starts the toy at an incredibly low pace, but with it still being pushed against his prostate, Hinata still reacts wildly, giving out a strangled noise as he tilts his head up.

Right. How did he forget it was a VIBRATOR?

The feeling is almost completely foreign, the faint buzz that courses through him surprisingly pleasurable, compared to the previous uncomfortableness he had felt before.

"Good?" Comes Komaeda's almost concerned voice, Hinata hearing it only distinctly.

"Yeah," he manages, his voice already slightly strained, and he almost considers just shutting up when he realises it. "Really good."

Encouraged, Hinata feels as Komaeda grabs onto the hilt of the toy, before slowly pushing and thrusting it in, bit by bit.

Hinata had his eyes squeezed shut so hard he was practically seeing patterns. He keeps a hand to his mouth, as though trying to muffle any more noises from his mouth, but for the most part, failing.

Even just this is overwhelming, Komaeda purposely brushing past all his sensitive parts, but the vibrations still hitting them dead on.

And when Komaeda tests pushing up the intensity level, it only has Hinata writhing more, abandoning the idea of covering his mouth in favor of grabbing onto the sheets beneath him.

"Fuck," He exclaims, squinting open his eyes only enough to make out a blurry view of the ceiling, "good, that feels good, Komaeda-"

And all at once, when it feels like it was going to go for another amp, the pleasure stops as the vibrations suddenly turn off with a click.

Hinata's eyes suddenly snap open fully, looking through his haze as though seeing would help him find out why it stopped.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," is Komaeda's small apology, and Hinata uses his spare strength to prop himself up on his elbows in order to look at him properly.

While he no doubt looks much worse, Komaeda still looks like a bit of a mess himself, face flushed red and eyes reflecting that of almost desperation.

"It's just that I'm close to my limit too," and he pauses briefly to sit up on his knees, making a point as he slinks his fingers underneath the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down enough to reveal his cock, the tip already dotted with pre cum. A small smile and a low voice asking a simple question of, “can I?”

With how fast he feels his face fluster, Hinata wishes he had just kept himself lying down, but instead reverts to looking away once again. Despite this, he nods, by now probably afraid of his own voice sounding weird.

Well, to be perfectly honest, he had been expecting them to try out the vibrator more, but he wasn’t going to object to doing it the “natural” way. It really wasn’t a big deal, afterall.

And so he gets back in a comfortable position for Komaeda to get on top of him, happily allowing him to bring their mouths together again, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Though the kiss gets more sloppy when Komaeda takes their dicks in one hand, grinding them together in a way that has Hinata moaning into his mouth, though it isn’t as intense as it was when the vibrator was on.

But that quickly changes, when almost out of nowhere, Komaeda uses his free hand to switch back on the toy.

Komaeda was lucky he was wearing a shirt, or Hinata would have definitely scratched him hard enough to bleed, with how hard he clutches onto his short sleeves.

He makes a strangled, loud gasp, that separates the kiss for only a moment, before Komaeda merely deepens it once again.

Overstimulation hits Hinata like a truck, with the frotting that only gets more messy as pre cum spills over themselves, and as Komaeda uses his spare hand to do the “back and forth” that he had before. Combined with the almost suffocating feeling of groaning into each other’s mouths, his head is already getting into that hazy state that only Komaeda can make him feel.

“Nng- ha- Nagi-!” incomprehensible cries spill out of his mouth whenever Komaeda leaves it for a split second in order to take a breath, but never objecting to any of it. Because in that haze is an unfathomable pleasure, whenever Komaeda brushed their tips together, or when the vibrations directly hit his sensitive spots- feelings that are quickly building up to an orgasm.

He knows that Komaeda is getting close too, when he finally breaks their kiss(that was hardly a kiss anymore, but just a wet clambering of tongues), and instead moves to teasing Hinata’s collarbone with nips and sucks, not even bothering to continue thrusting the toy into him. But that’s unneeded anyways, because any lost pleasure is made up for by him turning it up a full notch.

After that, Hinata is most definitely doomed to not last any longer. His instincts take over him, as he digs into both Komaeda’s hair and shirt like it’s a lifeline, toes curling up in the sheets, and all at once, his vision goes blurry.

If he makes any noise in his climax, he doesn’t hear it, and he briefly thinks that he must have passed out with just how hard he had come.

When he regains his senses after what feels like a half-hour, his breaths are heavy, barely registering Komaeda in a similar state on top of him. He does, however, register the feeling of the vibrator still buzzing inside him, but by now, it’s just uncomfortable. He reaches a shaky hand to shut it off, but Komaeda beats him to it, and with a small click, he finally feels relieved.

They stay in that state for what feels like hours, before Komaeda finally speaks up, his voice still exhausted.

“So, ha, how was it?”

Hinata opens his mouth to respond, but he can’t find the right to say, so he merely let a single word spill out of his throat; “Wow.”

Had he had the strength, he probably would have lightly hit the top of Komaeda’s head when he heard his giggle ring in his ears.

#pineapple writes #unsafe #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #komahina #confusement and betrayal: komahina

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thyon-nero · 3 years

Note

So. How do you feel about the litjoy crate strange the dreamer collection? The art with the setting and places is beautiful, and I love the miracle for breakfast art. On the other... the characters just look... a bit white? All the godspawn has a POC parent... no way they all look Eurocentric. Idk. I feel like I will regret not collecting it, but I already have the books and it seems kinda a waste...

Hi! Thanks for sending this in—I didn’t know that litjoy was making a Strange the Dreamer collection so thank you for bringing it to my attention. And sorry for taking so long to respond! I had quite a bit to say and wanted to make sure that my thoughts were at least a little coherent. Since tumblr doesn’t like links in posts, I’ll be dropping the litjoy link in the replies for people to see what we’re talking about. Also, to the anon who sent this in, I’ll be using the generic pronoun “you” to talk to everyone reading this, so don’t feel like I’m calling you out specifically!

Your ask brings up several good points for discussion that I’m going to try and apply to a broader conversation. Namely, the whitewashing in art and consumerism in the book community. I’m only one perspective so please feel free to continue this conversation in a respectful way: if there’s one thing that Strange the Dreamer should have taught us, it’s that only through communication and understanding can we resolve conflict.

First of all: the Eurocentrism in the art. I’m not sure what policies are for reposting the art on a separate site, so I’d encourage everyone to look on the litjoy website to see it for themselves.

Is the art beautiful? Yes. Does it depict characters canonically described as brown with Eurocentric features? Also yes.

Although Weep is a fictional place, we can still fairly easily draw some parallels between the people of Weep and real world people and cultures. Off the top of my head, @readingbooksinisrael made a post (linked in replies) noticing how the words at the beginning of each chapters sounded Semitic, @inkwingart created incredible artwork of Sarai (linked in replies) without the Eurocentric features of the official art, rightfully calling out the differences between how the characters are described and how some artists choose to depict them, and I’m sure that others have spoken on this as well.

Despite the written portrayal of the people of Weep and godspawn as non-white, it’s easy for artists to avoid depicting them with non-Eurocentric features and only use blue skin as a defining feature.

Within the broader art community, I’ve seen conversations on how to depict characters of different racial and ethnic backgrounds without just changing the skin color and keeping all of the other features identical. Some art styles (typically more cartoony and stylized) definitely do draw all characters with the same face and rely on clothing, hair, and other distinctive characteristics to tell them apart. But this isn’t really enough. When artists provide enough detail to show Eurocentric features but consider using a different shade of brown (or in this case, blue) to be “enough” in terms of drawing diversely, they aren’t hitting the mark.

Ultimately there is no “right” way to visually depict these characters. However, I would encourage artists to think deeper about their designs and question why they chose certain features for certain characters, and if these features are consistent with the source material. I’d like to give the artists involved with the litjoy crate the benefit of the doubt and assume that they weren’t thinking about the implications of their art erasing the godspawn’s brown heritage, but unless any of them have made a statement, I think it’s up to everyone to decide for themselves whether these portrayals are worth supporting.

(That being said, I do adore the landscapes! It’s incredible to see these magical places brought to life. Highly, highly recommend looking at the art just for that!)

I also want to talk a bit about consumerism within the book community and whether this set is worth it, especially if you already own the books. Please keep in mind that I don’t intend this as a callout for anyone or a be-all-end-all for this discussion. My thoughts are my own and do not affect how you spend your money!

Personally, I’m not the sort of person who buys more than one copy of a book. With my current living situation, I don’t have infinite room for books and I (tragically) don’t have the money to buy every beautiful book I see! Although I only own Strange the Dreamer and not Muse of Nightmares, I still won’t be buying this collection because I know that the second copy of Strange the Dreamer will just be collecting dust on my bookshelf and taking up space from other books that I don’t already own copies of.

As of writing this (March 14, 2021) preorders haven’t opened yet so I don’t know how expensive this set is, but if you don’t already have the books and want them, this looks like a great set that’s definitely worth looking in to! However, and here’s where I circle back to your point about regretting not collecting it, I personally don’t think it’s worth buying just for the sake of collecting everything to do with this series.

If owning these editions will make you happy in the long term and you have the resources to purchase them, go for it. I think it’s important to remember though that regardless of which editions you own or whether you’ve read the books through your public library, you still have the story. This world and these characters will always exist in your mind! That being said, I think a lot of people within the book community look to special editions, different cover art, and other merch as a way to become closer to the stories that we love. Even though these may offer new visuals or (in some cases) deleted scenes and extra written material, they don’t change the fundamental story. The experience of reading these stories doesn’t depend on owning special editions. Ultimately, if you’re buying multiple copies of a book, you’re pretty much only paying for the experience of having a pretty cover on your shelves. There’s nothing wrong with that (I know I’ve been guilty of paying extra for a slightly prettier cover!) but that’s the only thing you’re missing out on when you don’t buy these editions.

Especially with the rise of BookTube and Bookstagram as ways of seeing what other readers’ shelves look like, I’ve noticed people putting more stock into what others own as opposed to what they’ve read. Although not perpetrated by everyone in the community, there is some pressure to own all of your favorite books and have the fanciest editions to show just how much of a fan you are, when ultimately that doesn’t mean anything. The person who owns every special edition and the person who checked out their library’s copy can both love the story just as much. We as readers shouldn’t have to “prove” our loyalty to different stories or authors to enjoy them. It’s perfectly alright to not own your favorite books or everything by your favorite author! It’s the experience of reading these stories that brings us together as a community, not the experience of buying everything relating to these stories.

All that being said, it’s still a personal decision whether you want to buy these editions or not. Do what brings you joy! And if that’s owning these books, more power to you. If anyone wants to chime in with more thoughts on the artwork or whether these copies are worth buying, I’d love to discuss it further and have an open discussion. We all have different perspectives and can learn so much from each other through respectful conversation.

#strange the dreamer #laini taylor #muse of nightmares #litjoycrate #ya fantasy #ya literature #asks

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ships4you · 4 years

Text

the innkeeper

Pairing: Sokka x reader & some motherly Katara

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood

Authors Note: Someone requested a shy reader afraid of confronting Sokka but I accidentally deleted the request :( So this is for my lovely anon who requested this <3 Also I’ve been trying to make my fics as gender neutral and all that jazz, but please call me out if I slip up so I can fix it!! I may split this into 2 parts, so stay tuned :):)

Prompt: The reader and their family are in charge of the only running inn of the Northern Watertribe. When the Avatar and his friends come to the city the reader finds themselves befriending our favorite Southern Watertribe prince.

“The avatar is in the city!” your younger sister, Kana yelled running into your room. She grabbed your arm before you could resist and before you knew it she was dragging you to the courtyard. “The avatar? Here?!” you responded, “What is the avatar doing in the Northern Water Tribe?” She shrugged, “I’ve heard some people say he’s here to learn waterbending. I don’t see why though he should be like 1000 years old by now.”

The courtyard was crowded with familiar faces from the Tribe, everyone had seemed to rush just to get a glimpse of the all powerful avatar. Your sister had dragged you to an empty bridge overlooking the mass of people. Suddenly a large fluffy beast entered the courtyard walking next to three kids. “Avatar Aang,” the chief boomed, his voice bringing the crowd to a hush. The youngest of the three, dressed in colorful clothing you’ve never seen before bowed before the Chief. Kana latched to your side overflowing with excitement, “Do you think that’s him?! There’s no way, he’s my age...” You lightly pushed her off chuckling, “Shush up, I can’t hear what’s going on.”

As the Chief’s welcoming speech dragged on you focused on the two dressed in large blue sweaters similar to your current outfit. They both were clearly Water Tribe, but you had never seen them around the city before. The boy was looking around, amazed by his surroundings. You smiled at his giddiness, the smile stretched across his face was so pure and cute. He had deep blue eyes that were shifting every which way. You were so distracted, it took you a second to realize he had glanced up at you. Your eyes met and he smiled offering his hand up for a friendly wave.

“Eeep!” you squeaked squatting down behind the icy railing. Did he notice you staring? Was he weirded out? Obviously he was, who stares at people- creeps! That’s who. That was so embarrass-

“(y/n).” your sister said distracting you from your thoughts, “Why are you on the floor.” she pointed out unamused. You tucked your head between your legs and groaned, wincing at your awkwardness.

***

The inn your father ran scarcely had any customers. Most of the time your customers were either locals or Earth Kingdom generals visiting to discuss the war. All of a sudden your dad’s humble business became the talk of the town. Classmates constantly bugging you with questions, “What’s the avatar like?”, “Have you seen him airbend at all?”, “What are the two from the Southern Water Tribe like?” You didn’t have the heart to say you haven’t met them yet. Your father handled their rooms when they arrived, along with your nosy sister (who threatened to scream bloody murder if she didn’t get to meet the avatar). You on the other hand had been actively avoiding the group, especially the blue-eyed boy.

When people were staying at the inn; which was basically three extra rooms in your home, you were in charge of feeding the guests. It had been a few days since the avatar and his friends started staying at the inn. You were up early in the kitchen chopping the fresh caught fish for lunch, humming an old song your mom used to sing to you. Guests mostly ignored the kitchen, usually preferring to make small talk with the adults and patiently wait for food in the dining room. It was relaxing being safe from meeting new people.

“That song doesn’t sound watertribe.” A voice rose from behind.

Startled you turned around a little too fast and cut the side of your arm with the knife. “Shit.” you exclaimed grabbing your forearm. The boys eyes widened “Ah crap, Katara!” he yelled before running over to your side, grabbing a nearby drying cloth. You stared at him speechless. Would he recognize you? Spirits you hoped not.

“I’m so sorry,” he began blabbering focusing on your arm, his fingers grazing your skin as he pressed the cloth against the wound, “I really didn’t mean to startle you, I offered to bring the dirty dishes back here. The annoying little girl told me to bring them here, I didn’t think anyone would be back here...” His words slowing as he turned to face you. His eyebrows clinched together.

Shit.

“You look really familiar.”

Shitttt.

Before he could question any further a girl with long, brown, braided hair rushed into the room. “What is it Sokka?!” Was that his name? You had never met a Sokka before, maybe it was a common name in the South Pole. “Katara, thank the spirits! We need you to do your glowy-water-magic!” Sokka said waving his hands around. The girl, Katara, ran over bending the water out of her pouch. “What happened?” she asked unwrapping the bloody cloth off your arm.

“Umm, I cut myself. It fine, really.” you said quietly while Katara pressed her hand to your injured arm. The water started sparkling a bright blue hue. You winced at feeling. Katara smiled sweetly at you, “Does it hurt?” You shook your head, “No just feels weird.” As the glowing stopped she pulled away from your arm, bending the water along with her. “Shoot, it’s still bleeding a little.” She said examining your arm, “Sokka, I need more cloth.” He quickly glanced around the room and held out the bloody cloth he used before hand. “One that doesn’t have blood on it.”

“Oh! I got it,” Sokka began unwrapping the cloth tied at the waist of his tunic and handing it to Katara, “Here, use this.” Katara rolled her eyes and began dressing your wound. “I’m sorry I couldn’t heal it completely. I’ve only been taking classes on healing for a week, the wound should be clean now and the bleeding should stop in a couple days.” Her eyes were kind and warm when she smiled at you. “Thank you, I’m sorry I can be clumsy at times.” you murmured looking down at your arm. “I’m Katara by the way, and that’s my idiot older brother Sokka.” she said gesturing behind her. You pressed your lips together in a small smile, “I’m (y/n)”

***

Since then you had grown to enjoy being around Katara. She was sweet and easy to be around. She would often come to help clean after meals, despite you opposing her help several times.

Sokka however, you avoided him like the plague. Not because you didn’t want to talk to him. You wanted to. But you couldn’t stand to face him after embarrassing yourself twice. You knew it would have to happen sooner or later, you still had his belt Katara had used to wrap your cut. It took hours to wash all the blood out but the cloth was finally clean, dry, and folded neatly on top of your bed. Mocking you.

The simple solution would to have Katara take it to him, but then you’d be mad at yourself for running away. Which you had already done. a couple times... There were times you tried to give it back to him, but in the end you would wimp out.

“Oh my spirits, just give it to him.” Kana groaned. “You don’t get it Kana, I was so weird around him he probably thinks I’m a freak...” you said shifting the folded blue cloth between your fingers. “You. are. ridiculous.” she said tightly grabbing your arm, “Come on. We are doing this right now.” She yanked your wrist, dragging you through the hallway. “Wait! Like right now, right now?!” She nodded, harshly knocking on his door. “Yup. SOKKA! (Y/N) HAS SOMETHING FOR YOU!!” she screamed before running off, “Good luck!”

Before you had the chance to run after her, his door swung open. “Uh hi,” he said “was that your sister screaming?” You stammered back “Umm yea, she was just- she uh... I have your belt.” you interrupted yourself holding out the cloth. “Oh, right, thank you. How’s your arm?” You glanced down at the newly wrapped cloth wrapped around your forearm. “It’s doing well, it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”

“Good. Good, that’s good.” he spoke as he were tripping over each word, “You know, I had been hoping you’d come by.” your eyes widened at the comment, “No, no-no-no, that sounded weird.” He explained, “I meant the belt. It’s my lucky belt so thank you.” You hugged your sides and pressed your lips into a tight smile, “You’re welcome, sorry I took a while to bring it back.”

“It’s all good, I’m just glad you’re here now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Hey, so... I haven’t seen much of the city yet and it gets kind of lonely while Aang and Katara are at training. I was thinking maybe you would like to go for a stroll sometime... With me.”

You couldn’t believe he was just as nervous as you. He always seemed so confident around the Inn, you just assumed he would be more outgoing. “A stroll?” you questioned slightly giddy.

“Yea, or a walk, whichever you prefer. Or not. Either is good if you wanted to, but if you don’t that’s okay too. You just seemed like a really cool person and I feel so bad about scaring you and-“

“Sokka. I would love to go for a stroll.” you stopped his rant before he could finish. His smiled widened, “Ok, yea cool. Totally chill... So, I’ll come meet you in the kitchen after breakfast tomorrow?” You fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt, “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You said backing away. He leaned against the door frame, waving the same way he did the first time you saw him. “Yea! Tomorrow.”

Sokka spent the next five minutes mentally screaming at his awkwardness.

***

tag list: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon

#sokka imagine #sokka x reader #sokka #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla imagine #atla x reader

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damnusillygoose · 3 years

Text

Jerza fanfiction(fluff)

title: Periods

summary: Erza and Jellal spend an evening together in bed discussing the marvels of a female body aka periods!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13787058/1/Periods

Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Hiro Mashima.

PERIODS

‘You okay, cupcake?’

‘yep’

‘Okay, there you go’, Jellal stepped in her bedroom completely and handled over the sweets she requested him to buy.

‘Thank you! ’Erza squealed, like a baby, at the sight of her favorite strawberry sponge cake.

‘I am sorry though, we had to cancel our date abruptly. I swear I don’t get cramps on my periods usually, I- ‘

‘it’s okay Erza. You really don’t have to apologize for that. I don’t mind staying in bed and snuggling with you. Its cold outside anyways.’

‘You are so sweet’, Erza replied bashfully and sincerely smiled at him. She proceeded to divert her attention towards the package in her hand, eyeing it ravenously. Jellal chuckled at her excitement and went to the kitchen counter to fetch her a plate and a fork.

‘There’, he said as he handed her the supplies and lifted the warm quilt to make some room for himself, settling beside her.

‘ah, Erza! Your feet are so cold!’, he exclaimed when she deliberately touched her cold feet with his warm ones.

‘Mhm, you really are warm Jellal’, she snorted unapologetically, tucking herself cheekily to his side.

‘How’s the pain?’, he asked curiously.

‘its fine now. Most of it has subdued. Just a slight pain remains in my lower back.’

‘Are period cramps always this hurtful? I remember seeing Meredy cry from them. She couldn’t get up for 3 days at least. It was painful to watch her like that.’

‘Mhm, That’s pretty subjective actually. Some women have it worse. Some don’t. I, for example, don’t experience much pain except for my lower back. And sometimes in my lower abdomen as well. However, their occurrence is extremely intermittent.’

‘I see. If I remember correctly, Ultear didn’t experience much pain during her periods as well, she was mostly fine.’

Erza looked at him intently. Reminiscing about Ultear was a sensitive topic for him and Meredy. She knew he missed his friend, whom he spent seven years with, even if he wasn’t vocal about that. Ultear and Meredy were like his support unit in those years when she was absent. Erza would be eternally grateful to Ultear for that. However, she was pleased to know that Jellal felt comfortable enough to talk about Ultear in her presence.

‘She sure was a strong woman’, Erza remarked.

‘Indeed, she was.’ Jellal responded with a sad smile as he nuzzled his nose against her crown. ‘Though I am ashamed, I must admit.’

‘Why?’, she inquired as her eyebrows knitted themselves into a slight frown.

‘I am ashamed of the fact that I may have spent seven years in the accompany of two women, my knowledge regarding periods is extremely limited. Would… you tell me about it in detail, I mean I do have an idea about its mechanism but I just want to be sure, if you are okay with it?’, Jellal asked tentatively.

Erza was taken back from his proposition. She never expected him to ask her regarding periods. She was of the notion that boys generally strayed away from this topic altogether. Ah, but Jellal wasn’t exactly a boy, right? He was a man. A mature man. Who knew how to treat a woman with chivalry.

‘I don’t have a problem in telling you about periods but I am curious. Why do you want to know about them all of a sudden?’

‘So, I can treat you even better, I guess? I heard woman want to cuddle and eat chocolates during this time of the month. If you yearn for sweets, I’ll be happy to bring you some. If you experience cramps, I’ll help you apply some heat pads. Or bring you tampons if you run out of them. I mean… I just want to take care of you’, he replied timidly with a light blush on his face. She was his queen after all and he was determined to treat her like one.

Can this guy get any better? She pondered. She definitely found herself a keeper, she mused as her heart swelled with love. She leaned forward and gave him a passionate kiss exhibiting her gratefulness, cupping his face in her hands tenderly.

‘Alright but may I ask if you have any previous knowledge about periods?’, Erza asked, brimming with absolute affection for her beau.

‘mhmm, all I know is periods are painful for women.’, he answered as he curled the end of her scarlet locks within his fingers reverently.

‘uh-huh’

‘They occur once a month and are necessary for pregnancy. Women get cravings and want cuddles during this time, I guess?’

‘Well, who wouldn’t want snuggles when someone like you is offering them?’, Erza smirked as she laced her hand with his.

‘I’ll provide you all the snuggles you want’, he whispered, inclining towards her to gently touch his forehead with hers.

‘You’re so sappy’, She grinned.

She leaned back and thought pensively for a moment. She adjusted her peach-colored quilt ,adorned with some floral patterns ,around herself before replying, ‘You are correct actually, let me elaborate further.’

‘Please do’

‘Well, Every…. woman, basically experiences periods every month or every 21-35 days. Okay?’

‘Okay’

‘Woman have two ovaries and one of them releases an egg every month and this process is called ovulation.’ She explained slowly so that her words would imbibe in his mind easily. ‘Now listen closely. The uterus, in its preparation for pregnancy, forms a thickened lining, where the fertilized egg would further develop into a baby.’

‘that would be a womb, right?’, he asked.

‘Yes. That’s the womb.’ She continued, ‘When the egg fails to fertilize with sperm, the entire lining sheds, accompanied by bleeding, mucus, blood clots, etc., causing a period. That’s how this process would revolve in a female body.’

Jellal listened each of her word keenly. ‘I have a question’

‘Go ahead’

‘How long do they exactly last?’

‘Varies, it can range between 3-8 days for a normal healthy woman’

‘What about you?’

‘mhm, 4 days, I guess. 5 maximum,’

‘Do they occur at the same time in each month?’

‘No. They occur around the same date they happened during last month. They can occur a day or two before their previous date or a few days after. Timing can differ slightly.’

‘I see’

There was an imperturbable silence that followed. Neither of them spoke a word for a while as they snuggled next to each other under the warm quilt. The rain pellets that fell against her bedroom window roused her from her thoughts. Her eyes searched his. He appeared completely inscrutable. Did she creep him out with her meticulous narration?

‘Do you find it gross?’, she asked quietly.

‘What? No. Why would you say that?’

‘So, you don’t find periods gross?’

‘No. Why would someone find it gross in the first place?’

‘I heard some guys do’

‘Well, I don’t.’ he smiled in a reassuring manner. ‘You women basically harbor the ability to nurture a new life within yourself and bring them into this world, I think that’s beautiful.’

She paused for a moment to take his words in.

‘You know, women are exceptionally horny during this time, if you continue to spill such sweet words, I’ll have to jump upon you myself’

Jellal erupted into a hearty laugh as he swung his arm around her shoulders to bring her closer to his chest. He placed his chin carefully upon her fussy head and nuzzled his nose in her soft scarlet tresses. ‘I won’t mind if you do’, he whispered softly.

A/N: I apologize if anyone from the readers found this unsettling but I think every healthy couple should have an open communication with each other and talking about periods shouldn’t be considered a taboo. Also, Jellal is a total gentleman which is thoroughly depicted in the manga. Do you want me to make a part 2 version of it? Constructive criticism is appreciated. Thank you for reading!

#fairy tail #fairy tail 100 yq #jerza #jerza fanfiction #Jellal Fernandes #erza scarlet #ultear milkovich #Meredy #crime sorciere

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heythatpenguinhere · 4 years

Text

The Day Avalor Won’t Forget- Eleteo Finale Fic

It’s finally here!!!! I cannot thank the EoA Discord enough for all the laughter and emotions shared after the Finale! Fan fic, art, and more were thrown and in the midst of it all a story began to unravel. Below is the culmination of the ideas of myself, Gus, Sushibelle, Halloweennut, and more who contributed to a silly head canon I had. Without you all, this story wouldn’t have happened and you all deserve equal credit. So without further, please enjoy! (P.S. It’s a long one!)

In the Kingdom of Avalor…

The laughter of children could be heard coming from the village square. Giggles of different tones and pitches were mixed about as soon applause joined them.

A small puppet show’s curtain fell and the puppeteer himself stepped out in front taking a bow.

“Armando! Tell another one!” A small child in the front said happily.

“Yes! Please?” came another pleading voice, followed by a chorus of agreeing voices urging the man on further.

The man, Armando, looked around at the crowd and then back at his lovely wife who motioned for him to continue with a large smile on her own face, saying she clearly wanted to see him continue as well.

With a half sigh, Armando smiled back at the crowd, “Alright then! One more story.” He said and moved towards the back of the puppet theater stage.

The children cheered and began to chatter amongst themselves as he prepared the next performance for them.

“What story do you think he’ll tell next?” Asked one of the older girls, braiding flowers into her long hair.

This made a younger girl next to her think. “Hmm, what if it’s about the Sunbirds?” She said, flapping her arms like wings.

“Shhhh! He’s about to start!” came another voice.

The crimson curtain began to rise and Armando’s voice rang out, “This is the story of a beautiful Queen and a powerful Wizard… The tale of a day no one in Avalor would soon forget...”

Queen Elena flopped herself onto the throne in the ballroom, her crown tilting forward slightly as she did so. It had been a tiring day filled with royal documents and decrees piling up slowly on her desk. This was the side of ruling she hadn’t been looking forward to at all. But she bore it all with as much motivation as she could knowing that she had a duty to her people she had only just begun!

Still… she could afford to take a little break and the quiet of the ballroom currently was quite relaxing to the new Queen, so much so that she began to close her eyes and breathe in deeply.

The large doors at the top of the stairs slamming open against the marble walls however ended any moment of rest she had begun to have.

Elena jumped alarmed, turning toward the stairs where her sister now scurried frantically down to her.

Princess Isabel looked disheveled and out of breath enough to concern her sister who stood up to meet her.

“Isa? What’s wrong!” She said, looking her over for anything off.

The princess groaned, cupping her cheeks, “Elena! I have a serious problem!” She stated.

“What is it? Are you alright? Did someone do something to you?” The Queen continued questioning, taking in her sister’s demeanor, and trying to find the source of her agony.

Isabel paused before mumbling, “Prince James… asked me to go on a… date with him…”

Elena got closer, “Prince James did what?” She asked, not fully understanding her little sister’s muttered words.

“Prince James… ASKED ME ON A DATE.” The little princess ended up yelling in frustration, ducking her face into her hands.

Elena was temporarily stunned. Her little sister had been asked on a date by a boy. She knew this day would come after all Isa was beautiful and smart! Isabel possessed so many amazing talents and traits that would surely one day wow someone in a different way… But she had no idea it would come so soon. She had seen them hit it off well at her Coronation and even dance, but an actual date?!

“Earth to Elena… Say something please?” Her sister said, peering out from her hands.

“Sorry Isa, you just caught me off guard there! Wow, so Prince James huh?” The Queen said now teasingly with a wink.

A groan from between hands confirmed that the teasing had worked. “Yes yes, now please I’m freaking out here. What do I do?” She said fully facing her sister.

“Isa, I’m flattered truly that you’d come to me with this, but why did you come to me for this kind of advice? Why not Abuela or even Naomi? Don’t you think they’d have a little more… expertise here?” Elena said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Her sister looked at her confused, “What do you mean more expertise? I figured you’d know enough. I mean haven’t you and Mateo been seeing each other this whole time?” She dropped casually.

Elena didn’t know what she had been expecting as a response, but THAT definitely hadn’t been it. It was equivalent to the feeling of freezing water pouring over her.

“I-I… what?!” She sputtered out, eyes wide.

“You don’t have to be shy about it, we all saw you guys dance together at your Coronation. Plus you guys basically live together here at the palace. It’s not actually a secret.” Isabel said, waving her hands around her.

Elena still hadn’t moved an inch.

“Did I hear that we’re talking about Elena and Mateo?” popped a blonde head from the top of the stairs also.

Chancellor Naomi seemed almost giddy with excitement as she looked over at the two sisters.

“I-I..” Elena continued to stutter, not being to form any coherent thoughts.

“Oh come on Elena, it’s okay! You can totally let up on the secrecy. I think by now most of the Ever Realm has a pretty good idea of what’s going on between you to two.” Naomi said, causing Isabel to laugh a little.

Elena however still felt like she wasn’t even breathing.

“Um, Elena?” Asked Isabel a bit concerned when she realized her sister was still frozen in place.

Just then one of the palace maids came by with a bucket and mop, “For what it’s worth your Highness I must say I think you both make a wonderful pair. You remind me of me and my own husband when we were young.” She said kindly with a warm smile, before continuing with her tasks.

“W-We what?!” The Queen finally said.

“Wait… unless there isn’t something going on… or you just really didn’t know?” Naomi suddenly responded connecting the dots with Elena’s shocked behavior.

Inside the Queen’s mind was a jumble of emotions and thoughts threatening to flood her. Her dress wasn’t flashing different colors, but emotions flashed across her face just as clearly.

It wasn’t until the throne behind them began to tremble did the girls realize Elena was about to burst.

Across the hallway, an older woman carrying a basket overheard the topic of discussion from the opened doors of the throne room.

One Rafa de Alva couldn’t help but listen in when she heard her son’s name mentioned and boy was she happy she did! Her son and the Queen?! How wonderful!

Her steps became much more quick and joyful as she now moved with even more purpose to see her son.

“Mateo! It’s me, your Mami!” She called down into the Master Wizard’s secret library.

A thump and the dropping of something was heard before Mateo de Alva appeared.

“Mom! I didn’t know you’d be visiting… Wait how did you even get in?” He said looking up at his mother skeptically.

She smiled proudly back down to him, “That’s not important, what is that I brought you some of your favorite baked rolls!” She said holding up her woven basket.

“Oh, thanks! I’m in the middle of working on a potion, but if you want you can come down” He said sheepishly looking back over at his half-completed potion and books.

When he turned around Rafa had already made her way down the spiral stairs and was grinning ear to ear.

Mateo moved to give her a hug and take the basket from her, but her unusually extra bright smile was confusing him a bit.

“Um, thanks again Mami.” He said before turning back to his books, trying to ignore the strange vibes he was getting from his mother. Maybe she had just really missed him lately?

“You’re welcome mijo! Now, Mateo did you really think your own mother wouldn’t find out about what you’ve been up to in the palace?” She said leaning in close.

Now Mateo was really confused. What he had been up to in the palace? What did she mean? He’d been pretty busy since the Coronation brewing new potions and working alongside both the Royal Guard and Isabel to improve and incorporate their magical defenses further.Besides that he had taken on teaching the Delgados more magic as well. He really hadn’t had much time for leisure, so what could she be meaning?

“What do you mean?” He asked, turning around to gather a bottle of pure lavender extract.

Rafa laughed, “Why when the wedding is!” She stated simply.

Mateo stopped mid-pour.

“The...what?” He said slowly to comprehend what he was hearing.

“Oh, mijo you don’t have to be so shy with your mama! I’m so happy to hear the news! The Queen of Avalor and my son?! You’re growing up so quickly!” She said with a joyful tone.

It was at that moment that Mateo in his stunned brain fog ended up dumping the whole bottle of extract into the potion brew and the entire room erupted in a cloud of purple smoke. A small explosive sound could be heard from that side of the palace causing everyone nearby to stop what they were doing.

“Let’s go over this again so I fully understand… So you were on the way here when you heard Elena and Naomi talking about… me?” Mateo said as he was still trying to wipe the purple residue off his robes and process what his mother was telling him.

He couldn’t believe he had been so distracted he had caused a minor explosion. Luckily for his mother and him, it wasn’t anything serious beyond coloring them in purple powder. He had given several maids and royal guards a near heart attack however in the process…

“Yes! I even overheard one of the palace attendants mention that she thought you both were a lovely pair, even reminding her of the relationship with her husband. Isn’t that so sweet?” She said, clasping her hands with a dreamy tone.

Mateo couldn’t help but facepalm. This had to be a misunderstanding. Him and Elena? They were just very close friends… Sure they had been through a lot together and he thought she was the most amazing person in the world, but again they were just friends, even if Mateo sometimes wished they were more. Deep inside, he had a pretty good idea how he felt but he would always put Elena’s happiness and needs first, even if it meant above his own. This mentality had caused him to lock away his feelings for the better part of the past 3-4 years.

Having now cleaned up fully, Mateo put down the rag he had been using. “I’m going to go talk to Elena.” He announced.

Rafa beamed, blotches of purple still visible on her, “Oh of course! Can’t stay away from true love.”

Mateo instantly blushed hard, pulling at his robe collar, and walking toward the throne room.

“Alright Elena, let’s just calm down here.” Naomi said, backing away slowly from her friend.

“Yea! We were just teasing. I’m sure not the entire realm knows!” Isabel offered in support, also slowly backing away.

“What?!” She exclaimed as her throne began to shake and hover in the air.

Realizing that her flurry of emotions was causing a scene yet again, she instantly closed her eyes and began to recite, “Baby Jaquins. Abuela’s Chocolates,” and more things that made her happy and relaxed.

And yet even with all those lovely things in mind Elena still felt her breath quickening. Mateo and her?! Everyone knew apparently?! But they were just best friends?! ….Weren’t they though? The last time she had fully seen him had been her Coronation several days ago. When she had appointed him officially the Master Wizard and he had asked to be her first dance…

She felt herself gasp lightly. Was that a sign? Was there more meaning behind it? Yes, they had danced quite a bit together in the end… but he had been dancing with Carla too? They even look quite comfortable with each other…

Her heart clenched as this new thought came with a new emotion.

“Okay whatever you’re thinking about now, don’t!” Naomi yelled as she and Isabel observed the plants in the ballroom suddenly begin to grow violently in length, threatening to envelop the entire room they were in.

The plant vines quickly began to reach outside the open windows and through the connecting doors, spilling out to other areas. Those outside could suddenly see vines wrap themselves around the north palace tower and began to flee in horror, wondering what kind of magical mishap or creature had been unleashed now.

Elena could only watch on in horror, hands clasping her face.

“Oh no no no!” She said trying to fan herself to hopefully calm down a little.

Not even a full week into her reign as Queen and she had already lost control of her magic… again.

Mateo jumped backwards just in time as a large mass of green sprung into the hallway from the throne room.

“Woah!” He exclaimed, examining what he now realized was a plant vine moving further down the hall.

“Elena!” He yelled realizing the source of the vines was coming from the room his mother said she was last in.

The thought of her being in danger somehow motivated him to move and with a blasted spell, he made it through the nearly blocked doorway.

As he looked down into the room, he was surprised to find that the only ones in the room were Elena, Isabel, and Naomi; not a malvago or creature in sight. The vines were continuing to move around, but he also took note of the hovering throne and banners flying around in a magical mess. Isabel and Naomi seemed to be trying to seek cover, but Elena was found in the center, looking around rapidly in fear.

His eyes softened when he realized what was happening and he put his Tamborita away behind him.

Elena’s eyes continued to flash around until they settled on him.

“Mateo.” She simply said, some relief coming to her in seeing him.

The vines halted their growth and expansion and the throne, along with the banners, fell to the floor. He noticed this and smiled. He knew she could handle herself; he never doubted her. He was still glad to see that he had a calming effect on her nonetheless.

Little pitter pattering footsteps hopped behind him and soon the ever colorful Flo was standing in between the two friends.

“You guys are getting married?! Can I be the flower girl, please?!” She squealed happily.

Both Elena and Mateo found themselves stunned for another time again today. Caught with saucer-shaped eyes and mouths hung wide open, the room around them began to shake yet again.

“Oh no…” Isabel said from behind a pillar.

Mateo turned to see the movement resume before landing on Elena once more, just in time to see her flush a wild red and suddenly begin to tumble.

He rushed forward and caught the Queen, delicately holding her in alarm, her crown tumbling from her head and rolling to a stop in front of Flo.

No one in the room dared to move. Not even the vines.

“Sooo… Should I take that as a no?” Flo said innocently looking at Mateo and the Queen now laying in his arms.

“I can’t believe this all happened…” Elena said, flopping back onto her bed.

Mateo moved to sit next to her cautiously, fiddling with his hands. “I’m so sorry for my mom’s gossip…” he said, feeling so guilty that this ended with Elena even fainting and the palace covered in vines still.

She turned to look at him, “Oh Mateo, this isn’t your fault. Or your mother’s. Truth be told, what she did overhear technically happened…”

This caused Mateo to look at her strangely.

“Isa came to me for dating advice and she, well, she thought you and I… were a thing? And that’s where this whole mess started… Because I couldn’t handle my emotions and react properly. I’m sorry…” Elena admitted, sitting up against her pillows and avoiding eye contact in embarrassment.

Mateo felt the rose tint fill his cheeks again. So that’s where the rumor came from.

“I-It’s okay, really! You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It was all just a big misunderstanding.” He said, trying to contain his blush.

“Of course… just a misunderstanding…” He heard her mumble from beside him.

The almost disappointed tone in her voice caught his attention and despite his blushed appearance, he turned to her. Her face was lowered and she was staring at her hands. She seemed sad almost?

“Elena? It was just a misunderstanding right?” He asked carefully, not daring to insinuate something too deeply and risk their friendship. Afterall he had very firmly accepted his place in her life, as a best friend and trusted ally, and nothing more. He was content with that. Whatever made her happy, he would support her. He would be with her always.

Her honey eyes looked up at him finally, “You know, apparently Isa wasn’t the only one that thought that? Naomi and even some of the palace staff noted our… bond. The way we danced at the Coronation and how close we are on the daily, they just took it naturally as a sign of something more. Accepted it so easily and even celebrated it…”

He didn’t know what to say to all that. Was it really that obvious how deeply he cared for her to others? So much so that people didn’t even question it, but happily accepted it? And they thought it was mutual?

“Mateo… Was it just all just a misunderstanding?” She finally asked him in return, a curious look on her face.

Here it was. A moment. A door. She was asking him. Would he speak up? Would he finally pour out his feelings after years and risk their bond? Or would he deny them and keep their friendship where it was? He had spent moments wondering if he would ever get to this moment and what he would do when he did. Now it was actually here.

While she looked at him still cautiously and hadn’t moved closer to him, he swore he could note every single tiny detail about her in this moment. She looked so vulnerable. Her eyes wide and observing him. He loved her eyes; he could stare at them forever, even now. They were the eyes of his best friend and the one person in the world that he swore knew him more than anyone else. But they were also the eyes of the newly crowned Queen. They were the eyes of someone who had been through so much and deserved to be happy. Could he face those eyes with this reality? With his truth?

Could he really live a life without doing so?

He hesitantly reached out for her hand, Elena’s breath hitching.

“What if… what if it wasn’t fully? What if there was some truth?” He said, leaping into the unknown.

Elena’s face was reading a thousand emotions all at once when she whispered, “What was true…?”

“The truth is that while we might not ‘be a thing’, the thought might have crossed my mind once or twice… or more than that. The truth is that we do have an amazing bond and I-I treasure you dearly. Dancing with you at your Coronation was one of my favorite memories… I could have danced with you all night and more if you’d let me…” He finally confessed carefully, feeling a large weight fall off his shoulders and now the fear of her reaction sinking in.

“B-But what about Carla?” She suddenly asked, before covering her mouth embarrassed.

“Carla? Me and her made up. We’re friends now and yes we had a great time at your Coronation, but Elena it was you that I wanted to be by all night. But it was your day, you deserved to choose what made you happy. You were so joyful and carefree that night, I didn’t want to impose myself… I’ve always just wanted you to be happy.” He replied, clasping her hands gently to steady himself as the truths made themselves known.

She felt almost stupid for being jealous… Here he just shared his heart to her, like he had done many times before, but this time he was sharing it fully… With the fear of the unknown hanging around them.

What would she say now?

“But… but what if you also make me happy?” She tested saying out loud.

Mateo sat up straight as a rail. Had he heard that correctly?

“M-Me?!” He stuttered out in disbelief. His hazel green eyes looking at her with hope.

Her hands gripped his further, “Yes you, Mateo de Alva. You also make me happy. If I’m also honest, you make me very happy actually.”

He swore her own beautiful eyes were shining right through him. This was definitely a moment he knew he would never be able to forget for as long as he lived. He wanted to ingrain every single second of it to memory. He never thought this would actually happen, yet fate it seemed had other plans.

“So… where do we go from here?” He asked bashfully, leaning closer to her. He knew where he wanted it to go, but he would wait as long as she wanted if he had to.

Elena smirked, “Wherever we want to go querido.” Taking the plunge and addressing him with a term of endearment that she had heard her mother use for her father.

Mateo couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Well, I guess you’ll be able to give your sister some advice after all huh?” He said back, suddenly more confident and even flirty with her.

“Just shut up and kiss me.” The Queen said, pulling him even closer and closing her eyes.

“Whatever you wish for my Queen.” And soon the two were locked together, the day’s chaotic events fading around them, making way for the start of something truly magical.

“And so the Queen and her Wizard began their love story together that day. Their love not only fixed the magical vines, but bloomed an entire field of roses in the palace gardens. Their love still lives on strongly, for there is no greater magic than love, and the entire kingdom of Avalor knows this because of them.” The puppeteer said, having the puppets of Queen Elena and King Mateo join in a hug, surrounded by hearts, before the curtain fell down again. Marlena finished strumming the last notes of the love song she was accompanying the show with.

Loud applause filled both of their ears as the town’s children and some passersbys stood to their feet.

“Bravo! Bravo!” They said together and Armando couldn’t help but blush as he took his wife’s hand to bow together.

Looking over at Marlena’s smile, he couldn’t help but feel so blessed to have his own piece of a fairy tale as well.

“I love hearing that story! It’s so different getting to actually see it though right Joaquin?!” said one of the older girls in the back of the crowd.

Her large hazel eyes had a far off dreamy look to them as she played with the flowers in her wavy hair.

Her brother however looked nearly disgusted, “Ew! As if we didn’t have to already deal with mom and dad daily Alicia…” He said crossing his arms and rolling his amber eyes remembering his parent’s constant displays of affection throughout the palace and beyond.

She sighed, “I think it’s lovely. They are still so in love just like that day once upon a time ago...”

#fanficiton #Elena of Avalor #elena castillo flores #mateo de alva #eleteo #romance #comedy #fluff #finale fic #EOA #eoa spoilers

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

.hamartia. ‘Part 4,

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f) x Taehyung (?)

Genre: Mafia!Au, Fluff, Angst (Mostly angst oopsies) I DO NOT CONDONE BEHAVIOR DISPLAYED IN THIS, PLEASE IT’S FICTION AND DON’T DO STUPID THINGS THANK YOU

Plot: Y/N is a skilled, well, torturer, though you don’t like to call yourself that; it makes what you do too real. When mafia boss Yoongi wants information or wants a hostage to suffer, you step in. However, one fateful day you are thrown Taehyung, another person who does your line of work. You need answers, he is determined not to give them to you. That’s when you try...a different approach, and Yoongi is not pleased.

Rating: TV-MA

WARNINGS: YO IF YOU’RE NOT COOL WITH SUBTLE BI AGENDAS THEN I’M SORRY THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOU, Blood, torture, mafia things (ya know?), drugs alcohol, sadistic tendencies, a fundamentally flawed main character (I’m sorry i’m just writing myself pretty much), assault, harassment, stalking (not bad), romance (somehow), Maybe stockholm syndrome???

Word Count: 2.1K words

A/N: I’m sorry there’s not a lot of Taehyung here, but there will be in the next chapter >:) I’m also really like to think that House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco is the theme song for this series.

Other:

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Next

guilt

~ guilt is an affective state in which one experiences conflict at having done something that one believes one should not have done (or conversely, having not done something one believes one should have done).

“Is that all?” Yoongi raised a questioning eyebrow.

It had been a solid two weeks since Taehyung was moved to better treatment. Two weeks and you had yet to learn much about him. He didn’t speak to you when you came to talk to him, he rarely responded. You deduced he either had balls of steel or was terrified out his mind. You chose the former considering his serious disposition. Even if he wasn’t in this situation, you suspected he would be a rather serious man.

“Yes.” You paused. “Well, I found out his favorite color is gray.”

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t on purpose. He didn’t tell me, but you know me, Yoongi,” You glanced to meet his eyes for the first time this whole meeting. “You know I’m an observer. I see the smallest twitch of relaxation when there’s a gray colored item. Of course, he’s a smart man...” You trailed off. Taehyung could be deceiving you to believe one way.

“And what have you done with this information?” The pale man didn’t seem amused.

“I’ve taken away anything gray.” That also meant you had to change up your wardrobe, which was annoying. Gray was a go to color of yours. In the morning, you had to ignore a third of your wardrobe. You were still using a subtle torture. Depraving him of certain colors and shapes was a softer way to approach this. You had seen excellent results in the past with this method, but it was often a slow burn.

Yoongi nodded his head slowly, seemingly thinking deeply. He didn’t return your gaze and instead looked toward the ceiling.

“Interesting.”

There was a long pause. You really had nothing else to report. Taehyung woke up at 3 A.M. in the freaking morning everyday, if you could even call that morning. He managed to wake up before you. And with your absolutely fucked sleep schedule, he was almost making your life hell. wait a minute.

“Can I be dismissed?” You quickly said, already starting to stand up.

“You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?” He finally met your eyes. You had this spark, a sudden realization. You just nodded, trying to get out as soon as possible. You had a lot to discuss with Jimin.

“Fine, you’re dismissed.” Usually he wouldn’t allow such an outburst, but it was you. He had vowed never to yell at you again after what happened.

You found the silver haired man relaxing on a bench outside of one of the torture rooms. “Jimin.” You grabbed his arm hurriedly and hoisted him up to follow you before he could even say hi. He fell into step with you and panted after his rude awakening.

“What? Did something happ-”

“Jimin, Taehyung has been toying with us.” You almost shouted. Then you looked around the hallway, seeing it to be clear, and then lowered your voice.

“What do you mean.” Jimin hissed. He may be soft for the mafia, but he did not enjoy being fooled with.

“Taehyung has been making our lives miserable. He observed us, learned our patterns, and knew how to use them against us. We may be the ones in power, but Taehyung has managed to weasel his way in.” You paused to take a breath. Jimin stood, mouth agape.

“So...So he knew about...”

“He knew you’re soft. He knows I wake up at 5 A.M. so he pushed it further. He’s depriving us of sleep and humanity.” You bit your lip, thinking. What has he been doing? He just sits there, he doesn’t try to escape. He doesn’t talk, but he gives you just enough information. How did he learn to read people so well? It’s impossible for him to know everything about us from just us going in and out of that room...The color drained of your face as you thought of another possibility. No, it can’t be- Jimin pulled you out of your thoughts, saying the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

“He’s a distraction.”

“You’re not a monster, but you’re not the woman I fell in love with.” Yoongi stood stiff. He was always so blunt.

“Might I remind you,” You seethed, hands gripping the back of the seat tightly, your knuckles turning white. “You made me this way.”

He looked away, almost ashamed. “You wanted a job here, you didn’t want to feel like dead weight. I gave you a job.”

You scoffed, “Don’t blame this on me, Yoongi.”

“Fine.” He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the window sill. The office felt so dark, a tense fog filling the room. “The position was open and I saw you as just another worker who could fill it. I could have promoted Jimin, but I gave you respect and prestige.”

“You gave me hell.” You would get to his other insults in a moment, but you needed to think. You were so enraged you could barely breathe. You were so distraught you tears springing to your eyes. But you refused to let him see you cry. You bit back the lump in your throat, swallowing thickly. A moments pause and the room felt like a tinderbox ready to catch fire. All that was needed was the matchstick to light everything ablaze.

You feared setting the room ablaze, but then you looked at his eyes, cold and merciless. And you decided, this room feels stuffy anyway, it would look prettier ablaze. You took a deep breath.

“Funny, that you can speak of prestige and respect when everyone is just terrified of you. There’s no respect in sight, just fear.” You stated plainly. “And I don’t fear you, but I sure as hell will never respect you after this. We’re over, Yoongi.” You knew you had wounded him sufficiently. You grabbed your bag, deciding that the ashes falling around you weren’t salvageable, and stormed out of the room. The office door slammed shut and you swore you would never step foot in there again.

But yet again, you lied to yourself. Again and again you said it would be the last time you saw him, that you’d leave and escape this world, but every time you drove out of town, you turned back around. You were utterly helpless, stuck. If only this was some sick love story where he would run after you. You wanted him to, but if those ashes meant anything, it meant death. Death of your love. And Yoongi would never run to you. After all...you were just another member of his illusive gang.

So here you were, breaking your own promises time and time again. You paced, unable to stop. It had been long since you felt pain looking at him, but you still felt your heart twinge to hear his voice.

“Listen, I’m telling you, Yoongi, this is a trap. He’s stalling, he’s being a distraction. Have you even heard from the other gangs in weeks?”

The slight twitch in his lips told you that he hadn’t. He carefully placed his whiskey down.

“That’s a big accusation. We are on good terms with most gangs in the area. It’s normal not to hear from them for a while.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. There’s been nothing. No crime, no new headlines.”

That got him a little more worried.

“What would their reasons be? We haven’t done anything terrible.”

“We’ve stolen land, cheated deals, killed their men. They fear us, but they’ve only just realized that with all of them combined, they can outnumber us.” You stopped pacing, almost panting from the adrenaline flowing through your veins. You felt like you were on some strange kind of high.

Yoongi was staring at you. Slowly, slowly, he stood. He went around his desk and leaned on the other side.

“I see what you mean. I’ll send Mark and Jungkook out to check on the other gangs tomorrow. We’ll prepare for an invasion, heighten security. If they get suspicious, we’ll just say it’s better to be on the safe side.” Yoongi said. Then he looked at you expectantly, as if he thought you would argue.

This would be a time to have the upper hand on Taehyung and his supposed plan. You couldn’t show all your cards of let him know you knew.

“We can’t be 100% sure.” You said quickly, trying to manage expectations.

“Funny, coming from someone who was so certain a few moments ago.”

There it was again. That tension hung in the air. Funny. That’s how you had started it ages ago. It felt exactly like it was a few months ago.

“You should get more sunlight, Yoongi, you look too pale.” You said offhandedly, trying to ease the tension.

“I could say the same to you. You prefer the prisoners underground to the members above ground.” He fired back.

“At least they can’t argue with me.” Your lips pricked up into a small smile.

Yoongi studied you, licking his lips. Then he smiled as well. The playful banter reminded you of when you were together. The memories were painted blue now; a symbol of what once was. He seemed to be thinking the same.

“Dismissed.” He said quietly. You simple nodded and left, softly shutting the door behind you.

Your steps are light. You could be an assassin with how well you had learned your way around this house. You knew every creaky floorboard and every squeaky door handle. For once, you didn’t feel like going back down to the artificial lighting of the basement rooms. Perhaps I’ll follow what Yoongi said. You then frowned thinking of the smug grin he would have on his face if you ever said that out loud.

He was right in some aspect. You hadn’t spent much time outside in the past few weeks. You mostly split your time between your room, the basement, and the surveillance room.

You spotted a tall man at the end of the hallway. He was on the phone and you didn’t really want to run into him anyway. Kim Namjoon was an excellent snake for the Bangtan Mafia. You just didn’t want to interact with the snake. He really was a good charmer and he knew how to say the right things at the right time. In fact, you would have enlisted his help with Taehyung if he hadn’t been so busy. Sadly, this snake was also standing right near your door, as if he had been waiting for you.

You wanted to slip by him unnoticed, but you should have known it would take a little more than that to slip past the silver tongue of Bangtan.

“Ah, I’ve got to go.” You heard him speaking. “My deepest apologies.” he spoke before hanging up. You never trusted that man.

“Hello, Kim.” You simply nodded, trying to get past quickly.

“Oh, no need for the formalities. We’re all a family here.” The corners of his lips tilted upwards in an almost smile, not quite enough to show the dimples in his cheeks. He used to be a friend, never close, but you had burned that bridge a while ago as well.

“Right...Namjoon.” You corrected yourself. You managed to get by when his hand shot out and grasped your arm.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” He quirked his head to the side. You had to stop yourself from glancing at the door across from your room. Inside was Taehyung. You wonder if he could hear you.

“I just have business to attend to.” You said vaguely.

“A little birdy told me we have a guest.”

You paused, hands suddenly sweating. You kept a straight face, not daring to move.

“Does that birdy have pale skin and wear suits when it’s entirely unnecessary?” You raised an eyebrow. Namjoon laughed, obviously over exaggerated. To an ordinary person, it would feel genuine.

“Perhaps.” He wouldn’t let his cards show.

“I really have to-”

“I heard he’s been..difficult. I could speak to him if you’d like help.”

“That’s really not necessary. I have it handled.” You ripped your arm away from his grasp.

“He’s in there, right?” He tilted his head towards the door across from yours.

“How did you know?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Just a hunch.” The prick then slid to the side and let you pass. “A pleasure to speak to you again, Y/N.”

When he was gone, you huffed and opened your room door. Annoying prick.

asflksajglsghs;agj thanks for reading! Part 5 soon- and I have big plans. I hope the lack of taehyung isn’t too disappointing here :(

Alrighty see y’all next chapter!

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#bts #bts mafia #yoongi #taehyung #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung mafia #yoongi mafia #fluff #angst

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raptured-night · 4 years

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Hi! I’m part of the lgbtq+ community and Severus is my favorite HP character and I was wondering (if you have the time and feel obliged) if you could please give me a few examples of how he’s queer? It’s been a few years since I reread the books, and def before I came out, so I’m a little in the dark here lol Thanks!!

First of all, I just wanted to apologize for how long it has taken me to properly respond to your ask. I’ve been dealing with some ongoing health issues that have turned me into something of a moody writer. I’ll get random spurts of energy and inspiration and then hit a wall of absolute writer’s block assisted by a major case of executive dysfunction every single time I try to respond to the multiple asks languishing in my inbox. Fortunately, I found myself involved in a discussion just today that addressed your ask so perfectly that I wanted to share it with you. In the very least, that discussion has also managed to shake off my writer’s block temporarily so that I have found myself in the right head-space to finally be able to give this lovely ask the thought and attention that I feel it deserves.

Although, in regards to the Snape discourse I linked above, I feel that I should warn you in advance that the discussion was prompted by an anti-Snape poster who made a rather ill-thought meme (I know there are many in the Snapedom who would rather just avoid seeing anti-Snape content altogether, so I try to warn when I link people to debates and discussions prompted by anti-posts) but the thoughtful responses that the anti-Snape poster unintentionally generated from members of the Snapedom (particularly by @deathdaydungeon whose critical analyses of Snape and, on occasions, other Harry Potter characters is always so wonderfully nuanced, thought-provoking, and well-considered), are truly excellent and worth reading, in my opinion. Also, as I fall more loosely under the “a” (I’m grey-ace/demisexual) of the lgbtqa+ flag and community I would prefer to start any discussions about Snape as a queer character or as a character with queer coding by highlighting the perspectives of people in the Snapedom who are actually queer before sharing any thoughts of my own.

In addition, I also wanted to share a few other posts where Snape’s queer coding has been discussed by members of the Snapedom in the past (and likely with far more eloquence than I could manage in this response of my own).

Source

Along with an excellent article in Vice by Diana Tourjée, in which a case for Snape being trans is convincingly argued.

Importantly, you’ll notice that while some of these discussions do argue the possibility of Snape being a queer or trans character others may only discuss the way that Snape’s character is queer coded. That is because there is a distinct but subtle difference between: “This character could be queer/lgbtq+” and: “This character has queer/lgbtq+ coding” one which is briefly touched on in the first discussion that I linked you to. However, I would like to elaborate a bit here just what I mean when I refer to Snape as a character with queer coding. As while Rowling has never explicitly stated that she intended to write Snape as lgbtq+ (although there is one interview given by Rowling which could be interpreted as either an unintentional result of trying to symbolically explain Snape’s draw to the dark arts or a vague nod to Snape’s possible bisexuality: "Well, that is Snape's tragedy. ... He wanted Lily and he wanted Mulciber too. He never really understood Lily's aversion; he was so blinded by his attraction to the dark side he thought she would find him impressive if he became a real Death Eater.”) regardless of her intent when she drew upon the existing body of Western literary traditions and tropes for writing antagonists and villains in order to use them as a red-herring for Snape’s character, she also embued his character with some very specific, coded subtext. This is where Death of the Author can be an invaluable tool for literary critics, particularly in branches of literary criticism like queer theory.

Ultimately, even if Rowling did not intend to write Snape as explicitly queer/lgbtq+ the literary tradition she drew upon in order to present him as a foil for Harry Potter and have her readers question whether he was an ally or a villain has led to Snape being queer coded. Specifically, many of the characteristics of Snape’s character design do fall under the trope known as the “queering of the villain.” Particularly, as @deathdaydungeon, @professormcguire, and other members of the Snapedom have illustrated, Snape’s character not only subverts gender roles (e.g. his Patronus presents as female versus male, Snape symbolically assumes the role of “the mother” in the place of both Lily and later Narcissa when he agrees to protect Harry and Draco, his subject of choice is potions and poisons which are traditionally associated more with women and “witches,” while he seemingly rejects in his first introduction the more phallic practice of “foolish wand-waving,” and indeed Snape is characterized as a defensive-fighter versus offensive, in Arthurian mythology he fulfills the role of Lady of the Lake in the way he chooses to deliver the Sword of Gryffindor to Harry, Hermione refers to his hand-writing as “kind of girly,” his association with spiders and spinners also carries feminine symbology, etc.) but is often criticized or humiliated for his seeming lack of masculinity (e.g. Petunia mocking his shirt as looking like “a woman’s blouse,” which incidentally was also slang in the U.K. similar to “dandy” to accuse men of being effeminate, the Marauders refer to Snape as “Snivellus” which suggests Snape is either less masculine because he cries or the insult is a mockery of what could pass for a stereotypical/coded Jewish feature, his nose, Remus Lupin quite literally instructs Neville on how to “force” a Boggart!Snape, who incidentally is very literally stepping out of a closet-like wardrobe, into the clothing of an older woman and I quoted force because that is the exact phrase he uses, James and Sirius flipping Snape upside down to expose him again presents as humiliation in the form of emasculation made worse by the arrival and defense of Lily Evans, etc.).

Overall, the “queering of the villain” is an old trope in literature (although it became more deliberate and prevalent in media during the 1950s-60s); however, in modernity, we still can find it proliferating in many of the Disney villains (e.g. Jafar, Scar, Ursula, etc.), in popular anime and children’s cartoons (e.g. HiM from Powerpuff Girls, James from Pokemon, Frieza, Zarbon, the Ginyu Force, Perfect Cell, basically a good majority of villains from DBZ, Nagato from Fushigi Yuugi, Pegasus from Yu Gi Oh, etc.), and even in modern television series and book adaptations, such as the popular BBC’s Sherlock in the character of Moriarty. Indeed, this article does an excellent job in detailing some of the problematic history of queer coded villains. Although, the most simple summary is that: “Queer-coding is a term used to say that characters were given traits/behaviors to suggest they are not heterosexual/cisgender, without the character being outright confirmed to have a queer identity” (emphasis mine). Notably, TV Tropes also identifies this trope under the classification of the “Sissy Villain” but in queer theory and among queer writers in fandom and academia “queering of the villain” is the common term. This brings me back to Snape and his own queer coding; mainly, because Rowling drew upon Western traditions for presenting a character as a suspected villain she not only wrote Snape as queer (and racially/ethnically) coded but in revealing to the reader that Snape was not, in fact, the villain Harry and the readers were encouraged to believe he was by the narrator she incorporated a long history of problematic traits/tropes into a single character and then proceeded to subvert them by subverting reader-expectation in a way that makes the character of Severus Snape truly fascinating.

We can certainly debate the authorial intent vs. authorial impact where Snape’s character is concerned. Particularly as we could make a case that the polarizing nature of Snape may well be partly the result of many readers struggling against Rowling subverting literary tropes that are so firmly rooted in our Western storytelling traditions that they cannot entirely abandon the idea that this character who all but had the book thrown at him in terms of all the coding that went into establishing him as a likely villain (e.g. similar to Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, Snape is also coded to be associated with darkness/black colors and to represent danger and volatile/unstable moods, while his class status further characterizes him as an outsider or “foreign other,” and not unlike all those villains of our childhood Disney films which affirmed a more black-and-white philosophy of moral abolutism, such as Scar or Jafar, the ambiguity of Snape’s sexuality coupled with his repeated emasculation signals to the reader that this man should be “evil” and maybe even “predatory,” ergo all the “incel” and friendzone/MRA discourse despite nothing in canon truly supporting those arguments; it seems it may merely be Snape’s “queerness” that signals to some readers that he was predatory or even that “If Harry had been a girl” there would be some kind of danger) is not actually our villain after all.

Indeed, the very act of having Snape die (ignoring, for the moment, any potential issues of “Bury Your Gays” in a queer analysis of his death) pleading with Harry to “look at him” as he symbolically seems to weep (the man whom Harry’s hyper-masculine father once bullied and mocked as “Snivellus”) memories for Harry to view (this time with his permission) carries some symbolic weight for any queer theory analysis. Snape, formerly portrayed as unfathomable and “secretive,” dies while pleading to be seen by the son of both his first and closest friend and his school-hood bully (a son that Snape also formerly could never see beyond his projection of James) sharing with Harry insight into who he was via his personal memories. For Harry to later go on to declare Snape “the bravest man he ever knew” carries additional weight, as a queer theory analysis makes it possible for us to interpret that as Harry finally recognizing Snape, not as the “queer coded villain” he and the reader expected but rather as the brave queer coded man who was forced to live a double-life in which “no one would ever know the best of him” and who, in his final moments at least, was finally able to be seen as the complex human-being Rowling always intended him to be.

Rowling humanizing Snape for Harry and the reader and encouraging us to view Snape with empathy opened up the queer coding that she wrote into his character (intentionally or otherwise) in such a way that makes him both a potentially subversive and inspiring character for the lgbtq+ community. Essentially, Snape opens the door for the possibility of reclaiming a tradition of queer coding specific to villains and demonstrating the way those assumptions about queer identity can be subverted. Which is why I was not at all surprised that I was so easily able to find a body of existing discourse surrounding Snape as a queer coded or even as a potentially queer character within the Harry Potter fandom. At least within the Snapedom, there are many lgbtq+ fans of his character that already celebrate the idea of a queer, bi, gay, trans, ace/aro, or queer coded Snape (in fact, as a grey-ace I personally enjoy interpreting Snape through that lens from time-to-time).

Thank you for your ask @pinkyhatespink and once again I apologize for the amount of time it’s taken me to reply. However, I hope that you’ll find this response answered your question and, if not, that some of the articles and posts from other pro-Snape bloggers I linked you to will be able to do so more effectively. Also, as a final note, although many of the scholarly references and books on queer coding and queering of the villain I would have liked to have sourced are typically behind paywalls, I thought I would list the names of just a few here that I personally enjoyed reading in the past and that may be of further interest should you be able to find access to them.

Fathallah, Judith. “Moriarty’s Ghost: Or the Queer Disruption of the BBC’s Sherlock.” Television & New Media, vol. 16, no. 5, 2014, p. 490-500.

Huber, Sandra. “Villains, Ghosts, and Roses, or How to Speak With The Dead.” Open Cultural Studies, vol. 3, no. 1, 2019, p. 15-25.

Mailer, Norman. “The Homosexual Villain.” 1955. Mind of an Outlaw: Selected Essays, edited by Sipiora Phillip, Random House, 2013, pp. 14–20.

Solis, Nicole Eschen. "Murder Most Queer: The Homicidal Homosexual in the American Theater." Queer Studies in Media & Pop Culture, vol. 1, no. 1, 2016, p. 115+.

Tuhkanen, Mikko. “The Essentialist Villain.” Jan. 2019, SBN13: 978-1-4384-6966-9

#severus snape #pro snape #snape discourse #snape meta #snapedom #snape community #queer theory

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