Comfort
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Summary: Jessie's surrounded by star athletes day in and day out - and you're not one of them. Sometimes you can't help but wonder why she chose you or if you fit in.
Warning: Smut. Language.
A/N: A bit of angst, but mostly comfort and reassurance. Written in response to this request.
“Okay, who’s ready for a game of pick-up?”
Your stomach sank as you looked over your shoulder to see Morgan holding up a ball before dropping it and skillfully lobbying it over to Sam.
Excited chatter started up and people started to move towards the field. You remained rooted to the ground as they navigated around you.
You were at a park with Jessie and a bunch of her teammates for a Saturday afternoon BBQ. The day had been fun so far, you got along with her teammates well and you’d been having a good time. You shouldn’t have been surprised that football would work its way into the day, regardless, you were hoping otherwise.
While everyone here was a star football player, most even Olympic medal athletes, you were just…well, you.
Somehow, you found yourself as the lucky recipient of Jessie’s love and affection. And for the most part, things were amazing. Falling in love with Jessie was easy and she said the same with you, but still there were moments, like this one, where you really felt like you didn’t fit in.
The girls were splitting themselves into teams and Janine waved you over.
“Come on. It’s just for fun!”
You gave her a wave of thanks and shooed her off, and she eventually relented. Yeah - like you were going to go out there and end up keeled over after 5 minutes of half-ass running while they sprinted circles around you. Worst part being that would’ve been them legitimately going easy on you.
“Here, split this with me.”
Your stomach fell further. Jessie. Your sweet Jessie. Who would never abandon you or make you feel left out.
“Go on, Jess,” you told her gently as you turned to face her, seeing her holding up a drink and two cups. You mustered up a smile and nodded to the field. “I’m okay, really.”
“I play football pretty much every day of my life. I’ll survive,” she laughed. “I’d much rather have a drink and conversation with you.”
“Jessie…,” you trailed off, some of the defeat bleeding into your voice.
“Come on, sit with me,” she encouraged as she set down the drinks and pulled together a couple of lawn chairs.
You offered her a tight smile and sat down. You should try to be graceful about it all.
“My bet’s on Morgan’s team,” you told her, trying to rid your voice of the heaviness you felt. “Loser buys dinner next.” Jessie gave you a dazzling smile.
“Deal.”
—————
“What’s on your mind? You’ve seemed a little off all afternoon.”
You sighed internally, disappointed in yourself for not better masking the funk you were in.
You nestled your head in a bit to Jessie’s shoulder as you laid in her bed together that evening.
“It’s nothing, really.” You answered and hoped Jessie would drop it. Her fingers idly grazed along the side of your arm, her head leaned against yours.
“Okay. But you’ve seemed a bit…I don’t know, yeah, just off, since the park,” she said. “Did I do something wrong?”
You lifted yourself up to look down at her with a concerned frown.
“Not at all. You’re amazing. Seriously,” you went on before laying back down and wrapping an arm across her torso. You exhaled slowly. “Maybe a little too amazing.”
This obviously caught her attention. You felt her shift and angle herself to try to catch your eye. You pulled her back down onto the bed and though she relented, she asked, “What are you talking about?”
You huffed, more-so in irritation with yourself than anything. Eventually, you sat up, though your legs remained entwined with hers. You distractedly played with the hem of your pyjama shirt.
“I-” You faltered and rolled your eyes. She sat up with you and grasped your hand gently. “I guess I’m just feeling a bit self-conscious.” You looked to her and she watched you quietly, giving you space to speak.
“I mean, I obviously knew going into this that you’re a title-winning, medal-winning, all-star athlete and I’m clearly not, but,” you paused, taking a breath to swallow your doubts and forge on, “I guess I just felt very out of place today.” You watched as a subtle frown formed on her face.
“In what sense?” She asked. “The team loves you.”
“I know,” you relented, “but don’t you ever feel a bit embarrassed that I’m the only one who's not an athlete? I'm, I don't know, average? You had to skip out on the game because of me. And if we ever do physical activities as I group I can’t keep up. And I can’t relate when you’re all talking about training and diets and all of that. I just don’t live in your world. I don’t want you to make accommodations for me or to hinder you in any way. I'm sure everyone expected you to date another athlete. Not even necessarily a football player, but anyone in that world.”
“Baby.” To your surprise Jessie was nearly smiling. “That’s what this is about? I’m so sorry that you’re feeling that way. Have you felt like this before?”
You looked away and shrugged. “Now and then. I try not to let myself get caught up in it.”
“Babe. I wish you would’ve told me,” she said, somewhat chiding but with evident affection. “But I’m glad you told me now. Hey, look at me,” she instructed gently as she grabbed your other hand, now holding both. She went on once you reluctantly met her gaze.
“I don’t need you to be an athlete. In fact, one of the things that drew me to you was how you aren’t one. I don’t care if you can run 2 minutes or 120. What I care about is that I feel so connected to you, how we can talk for hours, how we laugh together, how we support each other. And I’m sorry that I’ve left you feeling like you fall short in some way when it’s just the opposite.”
You gave her a small look and she lifted a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear.
“I’m surrounded by football players and sports people all day every day. If that was something I was looking for, I’d say I’d have my pick. But that’s not important to me. And even if it doesn’t seem like it right now, there is life after football for me. Above everything I just need you to know that I love you and I wouldn’t change anything about you.”
You leaned in and wrapped your arms around her, tucking your head into the crook of her neck.
“Thank you. That means so much. I’m sorry I got in my head,” you told her. She kissed your crown.
“Please tell me anytime you’re feeling a little down or insecure. I’m here for you. And I’m happy to reassure you any time you need.”
“Even if I don’t have a 6-pack,” you joked.
“Mm, come on, baby. You know how irresistible I find you,” she said, tone now changing as her hand snuck under the back of your top and her fingers traced along the band of your shorts.
You hummed into her neck as a small shiver went up your spine. Your hips shifted restlessly as a sensation began to stir between your legs.
Jessie moved slightly, causing you to sit up with a pouting look. She smiled at you and leaned in to capture your lips before grasping your hips and shifting you both so she was sitting with her back against the headboard and you were leaned back against her torso, nestled between her legs. She gently brushed your hair to the side and began laying soft, tender kisses along your neck. A small moan worked its way up your throat.
"You're so beautiful." Jessie spoke softly as she continued to lay teasing kisses. "And I want you all the time."
One of Jessie's hands reached up your shirt and cupped one of your breasts, which she began to slowly knead. You let your head fall back against her shoulder, inadvertently opening your neck further up for her, which she took advantage of, now pulling the soft skin gently between her teeth and grazing her tongue along it.
"Jessie," her name already needy on your lips.
"Yes, my love?" She asked rhetorically as she brought her other hand up to rest on your stomach before inching down and sneaking beneath your shorts and the band of your underwear. You rolled your head back further against her in anticipation and you reached down, splaying your fingers out against her thighs and gently digging your nails into the firm muscles you found there. She instinctively rolled her hips up against you and groaned into your neck.
"Baby. You have no idea what you do to me. You get me so wet with just a touch," she whispered against you, goosebumps forming on your skin in response.
"Please don't tease me," you pleaded, hips helplessly thrusting up against the hand that lay achingly close to your clit, but refusing to go over the edge and make contact. You brought your hand up to cup the back of her neck before running your fingers through her hair.
She chuckled against your neck, breath warm and tickling, before she reached further down. Her fingers gently parted your lips, tracing down and you inhaled sharply with a hissing sound.
"I love the way you feel in my arms," Jessie said as she began to kiss the shell of your ear. A shuddering breath escaped you and you rocked your hips against her fingers, looking for more contact. "And I love the way you move for me."
You released a moan as she ground her hips against you and her fingers found your clit, two fingers settling on it and gently, but firmly circling.
"Oh God," you breathed. You could feel your arousal growing and starting to pool at your entrance as she continued to work your clit and trailed her tongue slowly along your earlobe. You began to claw at the back of her head and she groaned low in her throat.
"I couldn't want anyone more," she told you, now switching her hand to your other breast and pulling you tighter against her. Her other hand and fingers remained steady on your clit, dipping down between your folds now and then and prolonging your pleasure. Soft, wet sounds now came from between your legs with each motion of her fingers.
Soon, your hips were moving in time with hers as her breathing began to grow heavier in your ear and only turning you on more. Her fingers continued to attentively explore your slick lips and always returning to your sensitive bud, each time causing you to melt further into her arms and she embraced you without fail.
Your head was turned in towards hers now and you were tugging at her hair as your peak approached. Your hips began to stutter against her fingers, jaw slack and eyes closed.
Suddenly, she withdrew her fingers, your eyes reluctantly opening at the unexpected loss. You tilted your head back to look at her and you saw her eyes trained steadfast on you.
"I want to see you," she said, her voice thick and needy as she began to maneuver you both. She turned you around and kissed your neck hungrily as she began to peel off your clothes. "God, you look amazing," she breathed in admiration as her eyes devoured you.
She laid back on the bed and pulled you on top of her so you were straddling her waist. Her hand was cupping your heat, fingers languidly massaging you as you settled in and looked down at her.
You leaned down, bracing your hands on her chest as you kissed her deeply. The kiss was interrupted, your mouth falling agape as she sunk two fingers inside of you, her thumb now nestled on your clit.
You let out a high moan, tossing your head back and pushing your hips back against her hand.
"Fuck, baby. You're so wet," she said as her thumb began to circle your clit again.
"How can I not be?" You managed to say, pulling a small smirk out of her. She rushed up to meet you, kissing you deeply and wrapping her free arm around your waist before pulling you back down with her onto the bed.
You kissed each other hot and heavy, contact only breaking when high moans fell from your lips as Jessie held you close and steadily pushed in and out of you.
"I'll never get over how good you feel around me," she whispered into your kiss as you rocked against her, your arousal pooling in her palm. "You're perfect for me."
Her strokes were deep and measured, each sending waves of pleasure through you. Between that, passionate kisses and her words of adoration, it felt like she was engulfing you in the most amazing way possible. It wasn't long before you drew a deep, sharp breath and you began to spasm around her thick, generous fingers.
"Oh fuck," you breathed, clutching yourself to her, "Jessie. Oh my god."
"I love you," she responded as she held you tightly through your orgasm. She kissed your face as your body shuddered.
Several moments passed and you eventually collapsed on top of her. She held herself inside of you and slowly played with your hair, laying lingering kisses along your temple as you caught your breath.
You lay in each others arms, neither of you feeling the need to speak. You continued to rest your head against her shoulder and she relished the feeling of your body on top of hers.
Eventually, she spoke, her voice soft to not disturb the mood too much.
"Can I get you some water?"
You shook your head. "No. Stay with me." She nodded against you and gave you a light squeeze.
"Always."
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Do I look like I wanna laugh?
Summary: In years of marriage you had never worn a sexy lingerie to your husband. What happens when you do?
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Warnings: detailed description of lingerie on your body (no body description), talks about sex, smut, Dom! Daryl or a terrible tentative of, dirty talk, knife play if you squint, fingering, mirror sex, swearing, pet names, use of the word slut very affectionately, p in v, unprotected sex (use protection kids), creampie. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+.
A/N: FINALLY FINISHED IT AFTER ALMOST A MONTH WRITING! There’s a warning for knife play, but it actually isn’t, the knife is just used to cut something and it’s not reader.
You had gone on a run with Rosita and Maggie, try to find some supplies, hopefully some new clothes and that’s how you ended up with the girls looking for some lingerie. You had never had this kind of underwear, you normally wore the comfortable ones, the more practical… when you were younger you’d not have them because you were afraid if tour parents saw them they would think you were having sex. Your father would probably freak out and your mother would tease you for the rest of your life. When you left home… well then you preferred your comfort, and nothing is more comfortable than some sports bra and cotton panties.
You had a cute set on your hands, a baby blue all lacy and full of bows. It was cute and the color reminded you of his eyes. “I don’t know Rosi, I’m not used to wearing this. And it’s not practical when we are always running from walkers.” You said, Rosita and Maggie were trying to convince you to get some sets for you. They dragged you from the section you were before and were practically throwing the cute, revealing and sensual sets on you.
“You’re not supposed to use them to fight walkers. Although… I think Daryl would find it sexy if you did.” Maggie grinned, she knew how you could get all flushed and shy when the talk was about sex or any sensual thing.
“Maggie!” You reprehended your friend. “I don’t think he likes those kind of things, I mean… he never said anything or complained.”
“We know he prefer you wearing nothing. Girl, we know you’re enthusiasts, we have ears, you know?” You blushed instantly while Rosita spoke, yes, you knew they often could listen to your and The archer’s activities. Daryl made it very difficult to not be noisy. “But believe me, he’ll like it. He’s kind of a rustic man, but he’s a man after all. They like those things.”
“Ok, I’m going to take this one.” You surrendered, but Rosita wasn’t over.
“Oh not this one, it’s all sweet and cute. Daryl already know this side of you very well. Let’s get you something more sexy.” She said looking at the hangers.
“I’m no femme fatale Rosi, I’m just me… I think I’m sweet after all.”
“You can keep this one, and any other you want, but we’ll choose some for you. Daryl will be wrapped around your fingers.” Maggie said.
“We’re married in case you didn’t notice.” You observed and showed your hand as if they had never seen the ring on your finger.
They choose three for you a black one, a red one and a coral one, they said the colors would outstand more your features. You choose the baby blue one that reminded you of his eyes, a pink one as cute as the blue and a white one.
Later that day after killing 5 walkers and going back home you pondered if you’d wear one of them. What would he think? Would he like it? He liked your common underwear, would those “sexy” ones be appreciated by him?
You had chosen the black one, if anything could go wrong you obviously would go with the boldest one. The black lingerie was very different from all you had seen before. On the breasts it made a triangle around each breast and had only a strap from one side to the other covering your nipples, it had many straps embracing your body and forming geometric shapes with it. In the middle of each strap there was a little bow. The lower part was lacy and had one particularity, it was open in the middle, in the lowest part, letting your cunt uncovered.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, on one hand you thought it was beautiful how it fit in your body embracing all the perfections and all the flaws, but on the other hand you felt silly. You never wore something like this before and you never presented yourself like this to Daryl before. That was it, you were going to take it off and wear your usual underwear and your sleeping clothes. When you were about to take it out, the door to your shared room opened, you jumped startled and closed your robe faster than the Flash.
“What’s that love? Why are ya all jumpy?” Daryl, your husband, asked entering the room and walking in your direction. You didn’t turn to look at him, years of marriage and being caught in this situation still made you blush and be embarrassed.
“Nothing…” you tried. You knew he knew that when you said nothing, it indeed was something.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing to me. You’re all blushy and you were startled when I entered the room.” He wrapped his arms around you and looked at you through the mirror. “Were ya doing something wrong? Something ya shouldn’t be doing?”
“N-no…” you knew what he meant and no, you weren’t doing anything “wrong”.
“Hmm…” he inhaled your scent in your neck nuzzling his nose on it and on your ears. “Not touching yerself without me or without me saying so?”
“No!” You exclaimed, and you quickly thought saying it like this would make you more suspect. “It’s another thing.”
You closed your eyes out of embarrassment, now you couldn’t escape this situation.
“Then, what is it?” He asked again, kissing your neck, his stubble sending chills through your body.
“Do you promise you’ll not laugh about it even if it’s the most ridiculous thing?” You asked looking for his eyes in the mirror.
“I promise it, babe. I’ll not do that.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, observing you. “Now tell me…”
You took a breath and then opened your robe, you slowly opened it until you revealed the piece you were wearing under the robe. When you opened it, you quickly closed your eyes, you were afraid of what you would see in his eyes. There was a moment of silence, and you thought you had screwed everything, until you listened to his voice. “Open your eyes.” He commanded.
You slowly opened your eyes, afraid you’d see something you didn’t want on his face. But as soon as you opened them, you saw his blue eyes, black in lust and desire, the blue just a thin line on the borders. “Do I look like I wanna laugh?” He asked.
“No…” you replied weakly, gods the way his eyes were raking your reflection… that was making your legs weak.
“Hmm…” he took his arms that were wrapped around you and slipped his hands on your arms. “Where did you get it?”
“In the run. With the girls.” You replied. “They said you’d like it… but I wasn’t sure.”
“Why’s it babe?” He asked his hands running up your arms again just to end on your shoulders, his fingers grabbing your robe there.
“I never used any of it, and you never said anything.” It was difficult to keep your eyes open and looking at him through the mirror, when he looked you like that it always felt so overwhelming looking right into his eyes.
“I’d find ya sexy even if ya were wearing a sack of potatoes.” He said sliding the sleeves of the robe down your arms. “I’d rather have ya naked, but this… damn! It got me hard the moment I saw it.”
You shivered from excitement, expectation and a small breeze that you could feel now that you were completely exposed. He pulled your body against his and you could feel his hard on. “Fuck.” It let your lips spontaneously.
“Yeah… fuck…” he repeated and drank you in. “Do ya mind if I do some alterations on it?”
You shook your head, but you knew he wasn’t getting only that. “I need words babe…”
“I don’t mind, you can do anything you want.” You said almost breathless and he had done nothing he barely had touched you yet. That was what Daryl Dixon made you feel.
His hand went to his waistband and he took the knife he had there. He took it carefully to your front and then to the side of the set you were wearing. He cut one side of the strap that was covering your nipples, then he cut the other side and threw the strap to a corner of the room with the knife. Now you had your nipples completely exposed and he was practically eating you alive just with his eyes. “Now, it’s perfect.”
He embraced your body once again with his big strong arms while his mouth went straightly to your neck giving you the most sinful open mouthed kiss, immediately making you sigh. Then he stopped. “I think I shoulda go clean myself, I worked all day…”
“Don’t you dare.” He was playing games with you, you knew it. He had no intention of stopping. He just wanted to tease you, but he had already made you despaired for him. “You just fixed some cars… I-I need you!”
“Look at my sweet girl…” he embraced you tightly one of his hands cupping one of tour breasts and the other sneaking down your stomach. “… ain’t her a little slut?”
He massaged tour breast, teasing it, pinching your erected nipple. His other hand cupped your semi nude crotch. “Yours…” You breathless said.
“Mine?” He repeated on your ear, his fingers running through your impossibly wet folds. “So wet fer me… so ready fer my cock…”
“I’m…” He pressed your clit eliciting a moan from your lips. “Ugh… your slut.”
He inserted one finger on your pussy, you gasped a moan escaping your lips. He nibbled and sucked on your neck and shoulders. “Even being my little slut, yer still so sweet.” He pumped his finger on you ando looked mesmerized at your reflection on the mirror, how you face contorted in pleasure, your parted plump lips and how your lids covered your eyes so perfectly and sinfully. “Open yer eyes sweetheart, wanna you to see how beautiful yer when I fuck you so good.”
It took you a lot to open your eyes and look at your and his reflection on the mirror. “That’s it love…” his deep voice sent chills all over your body making you clench around his finger. He inserted one more pumping in and out of you, his thumb making circles on your clit. “Such a good little slut fer me…”
You bucked your hips on his hands waiting for your sweet release and aching to have his thick delicious cock inside of you. You clenched around him repeatedly, you had become a moaning mess and it was difficult to keep your eyes open, but he wanted that so you tried. For him. Everything for him. You focused on his pretty eyes, his clean eyes that were so dark right now, the intensity on them overwhelming but grounding you in the moment. “Cum fer me baby… let it go…”
You rose your arm to the back, your hand going to the back of his neck enlacing your fingers on his hair. As you’re sent to the edge you pull on his hair making him groan as you have your release on his fingers. “So, so, so sweet! So good fer me…” he said while he drove you through your high fingers still pumping on you.
“Daryl…” you weekly said, your head resting on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath.
He looked down at you, his lips brushing yours. “What’s it baby?” You didn’t answer you took his lips on yours, hungrily damn you hadn’t kissed yet since he arrived, you needed this, you loved so much his kisses and the taste of his mouth.
You both broke the kiss, breathless you looked him in his eyes. “Was that what you needed babe?”
“That too…” you answered, the tip of your fingers massaging his scalp. “But actually… I need you, inside of me.”
He tightened his embrace on you, ready to move to bed, but you stopped him with your words. “Here.”
He stopped on his tracks, looking you in the eyes. You had already made sex in many different places, but he knew you both preferred it in bed. Your words startled him and woke something in him. “Do ya think ya can stand for a little time?”
“Yeah, I’m holding on you babe…” you said tugging a little on his hair, he released you, but was ready to catch you if needed. He unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans, taking his cock out of his boxers and pumping it a little before getting a hold on you again. He needed you, and he was glad you suggested he took you right there at that moment.
He held you on his arms once again, his hands traveling on your body. One hand ended up on your neck, just getting a hold in there while the other went back to your breasts, caring them, stimulating them… giving them the attention that they deserved.
You rocked your but on his hard on. Both of you looked at your reflections, you never thought it would excite you this much. He teased your entrance with his dick making you whimper and squirm. “Oh, please… please…” you begged, the wait making you ache and burn for him.
Who was him to deny you something when you asked so sweetly? Without any warning he trusted deeply into you, you moaned almost screaming, your fingers tugging his hair a little harsher than usual. “Fuck. I. Love. Ya. So. Fucking. Much.” For each word a trust, deep, certain, at the right spot.
You wasn’t able to say anything, lost in bliss and desire the only thing that left your mouth were moans and whimpers. With your free hand you got a handful of his but pressing him deeply into you if that was even possible. You looked at both of you in the mirror, Daryl trusting his hips on you, your bodies trembling out of pleasure and glistening with sweat. You never saw anything hotter.
His hand stopped taking care of your tits going down your body just to tease your clit, stimulate it and build your pleasure. He’s main mission was to pleasure you and if he could he’d do it every single day and minute of his life.
A turmoil building on your lower stomach, his name leaving your lips. Your walls clenching around him, indicating you were close to your high, his cock twitching in a way telling you he was close too. He turned your head to the side taking your lips on his in a passionate kiss, and as he hit that spongy spot inside of you sending you to your edge, he found his shooting his seed in you as you squeezed around him. “I love you!” You said while descending from your high, finally being able to speak.
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Written for @subeddieweek, day two.
A Firm Touch
Prompt: First Time | Word Count: 1912 | Rating: E | CW: Reference to Past Recreational Drug Use | Tags: First Time, Established Relationship, Being Restrained, Light Praise Kink, A Bit of Subspace, Insecure Eddie, Virgin Eddie, Service Top Steve, Working Out The Kinks (Literally), Boys in Love, Just Trying to Figure Themselves Out
Eddie squirms away from Steve's grasp, again, another night fucking ruined and Steve sighs in frustration. Running his hand through his hair. He's disheveled, and Eddie wants…but he can't. It's not gonna work.
This is never gonna work, and he doesn't know why he thought it might. He just wanted it to, so goddamn bad.
The knot in Eddie's stomach grows, because he knows that Steve is getting frustrated. Not by the lack of sex, Eddie doesn't think, but more by the lack of understanding of why they aren't having sex. Eddie's been trying, then shying away, stalling and Steve's been patient, but Eddie knows he's running out of runway.
He's being a fucking cocktease, he's pretty sure, though that wasn't the intent.
"Eddie…" Steve trails off, "what? What is it this time?" he asks, hands finding his hips. The question comes across harsher than his voice actually sounds, but he's staring at Eddie in a way Eddie hates. He doesn't want to be looked at, stared at, perceived, known.
Eddie shrugs, and Steve lets out a breath that's pure annoyance. Like something he'd aim at the kids when they are fraying his nerves. Eddie doesn't want that sound pointed in his direction, it makes him feel horrible. Worthless.
Finally, Steve speaks again, "I just. I can't read your signals. They're all over the fucking place. Do you not want this? Or not with me? What? Just, what? Tell me," Steve pleads, and it's tinged with self-doubt, and maybe a little anger, and it makes Eddie withdraw further. Steve's got his own baggage, and Eddie knows it. But Eddie can't just say these things, can't ask for them.
So, Eddie clams up.
Because the other option is to jump right in, ready for a full fight. And he doesn't want to do that, so he just stays silent.
"Okay, I'll go," Steve says, and Eddie doesn't want him to go. But he doesn't know how to get him to stay.
"Don't go," Eddie says, barely audible, squeezing his hands into fists so hard that his short nails are digging into his palms.
"Then tell me, and I'll do whatever you want," Steve says, soft, worried. Begging a little. "I can't keep guessing wrong. It's killing me."
"I'm just not built like you, Harrington," Eddie finally says. Hoping that will end the discussion for one more night. Maybe Steve will still stay, and give Eddie a little more time to figure his shit out.
"What do you mean by that?" Steve asks, his brow furrowed, as he's folding his hands in his lap.
"Nothing."
"It's not nothing," Steve answers, "obviously."
Eddie is annoyed, frustrated. But he knows he's not gonna get anywhere with soft, sweet Steve Harrington running his hands all over him, like he's made of glass. Been there, done that. And it never ends in anything other than in frustration. There's something broken in him, and Steve would never understand that.
"Eddie, I-"
"You don't want me. You don't want what I want. What I need."
"What do you need, Eddie?" Steve asks, putting his hands on Eddie's arms, gently.
Eddie's exhausted, and he finally snaps, "I need you to hold me down. I need you to handcuff me and…" he trails off when he sees Steve's face. "I need a firm touch. A firm hand. To get off."
"Oh," Steve says, soft and shocked. Disgusted, probably.
Eddie looks down.
And then Steve's big, warm hand is on his thigh. Pressing down. Firmly.
"I can't, like, hit you," Steve says, face way too earnest.
"I don't need you to hit me," Eddie says with a small smile. He wouldn't be opposed, but if Steve won't get off on it, there's no way.
"But I can be firm. Well, I can try. I want to try."
Of course he does, because Steve Harrington always jumps in with both feet. Eddie's seen it in action. He just never expected to see it here, in the bedroom. He just thought he'd be able to get over it, whatever hang up he has, but it hasn't happened.
"Okay, Steve, you can try. If you don't like it, you say so."
"It's you," Steve says with a grin, "I think I'll like it just fine."
Eddie just smiles at him, embarrassed, but hopeful.
"Tell me what you like, what your previous sexual partners have done for you that worked," Steve says, like he's ready to take mental notes.
Eddie laughs, shaking his head, "No previous sexual partners. But I'm flattered that you think that's a possibility."
"Then how do you know…?" Steve trails off.
"I still know how I feel. I know how I get off, alone," Eddie answers.
And that…how, is not very easy, never has been. At least not alone.
"Of course. Of course you do," Steve says, like he should have known that. Eddie doesn't think that's a thing that most guys ever contemplate. Eddie imagines Steve can get off easily, without even thinking about it.
A few quick tugs, thinking about a pretty girl, or a cute guy, and that's all it takes. Eddie wishes it were that simple. He's trying to not feel embarrassed. It's Steve, and he's gotten used to the fact that he can tell Steve anything.
And if he wants this to work, and he does, then this conversation has to happen.
"Okay, where do we start?" Steve asks, sounding chipper, and ready to go. To act. Now that they've got even a hint of a plan. Eddie cannot believe how brave he is. He's a take-charge kinda guy, maybe this will come naturally to him.
Eddie knows asking Steve to start with handcuffs is crazy, and he's never even been in them before, couldn't do it on his own, and as much as he wants to be, that's for later. Hopefully. Someday, maybe. So, he just lays face down on the bed.
"Can you just…hold me down, maybe? Restrain me? With your hands?" Eddie asks.
"Yes," Steve says, like he's one-hundred percent certain that's something he can do, and then rolls him over, with a confidence that really works on Eddie.
Steve's got big hands, hands Eddie has fantasized about on more than one occasion.
And he grabs both of Eddie's wrists in one of his, and pins them above Eddie's head, pressing them into the pillow.
They aren't even undressed, but Steve crawls on top of him. Sitting on his thighs.
"This good?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. It's good.
He's clearly having to stretch to hold Eddie like that, so Eddie isn't surprised when Steve scoots up his body, until he's off his thighs, until they are crotch to crotch, and Steve doesn't shy away from that. He just pushes down against him, as he presses on his wrists even harder now that he has a better angle.
Steve's hard, and Eddie still isn't. Maybe this won't work. Maybe he's not meant to have anything as good as Steve.
But Steve keeps grinding down, over and over, as he squeezes Eddie's wrists. Then, Steve scoots up further, his hard cock pressing into Eddie's belly as Steve leans over him, his chest right over Eddie's face, and Eddie feels boxed in, Steve's shirt hanging down, brushing against his nose. The scent of Steve flooding Eddie's nostrils with every movement Steve's body makes. Eddie feels hidden. Secure. Safe. And he closes his eyes and just feels it all, fully.
Enjoys.
When Steve shifts again, Eddie realizes he's hard. He doesn't know when that happened, but it feels so good. Steve is still rutting against him, and the pressure of him holding him to the bed feels like it's dug a hook into Eddie's center, and now there's an anchor pulling him down into the most amazing place he's ever been.
He feels drunk. He feels like he's taken the perfect amount of K, and now he's gently slipping into a hole.
Steve's not really doing much of anything, Eddie knows it's simple, but whatever Steve is doing is perfect. It's working.
Then, Steve leans forward, putting more weight on Eddie's wrists, holding them in place as he nearly lays on top of Eddie fully. Leaning most of his weight into it. Bringing them back together, hard cock pressed to hard cock. Still rolling his hips, grinding against him in slow, deliberate circles.
And even as Steve pushes all the air out of his lungs, Eddie feels like he can breathe, finally.
Steve's heavier than he looks, and Eddie is lost in the security he feels being under Steve.
He never even knew to dream about this, but here it is, his wildest dreams coming true at the hands of Steve Harrington.
"You feel so good under me," Steve says close to Eddie's ear, "you're being so good. Getting hard, just for me."
Eddie moans.
"That's good," Steve says again, "are you ready for me to let you go? Do you want me to touch you?"
Eddie shakes his head no, then makes his request, "Lay on me."
And Steve lowers his whole body to Eddie's, pressing him into the mattress. Chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Eddie can feel every point of contact, every point of pressure, and it's good. So good.
His wrists are still tight in Steve's grasp, but now he feels like his whole body is being held in the same way. Safe. Secure.
Steve rolls his hips, one more time, and Eddie attempts to lift up his hips, tries to get his ass off the bed, but he can't, and he comes in his jeans. Steve following him over the edge.
Tears leak out of Eddie's eyes, and his breathing is shallow with Steve on top of him, but he's happy, and relieved, and kind of boneless. Steve finally shifts so he can hold Eddie's wrists in one hand instead of two, lighter now, and brushes the fingers of his open hand against Eddie's cheek. Face near Eddie's, grounding him.
"Whenever you're ready, tell me what you need. What to do," Steve whispers, and Eddie nods.
Eddie finally felt ready for Steve to let him go, so Steve's shifted so he's laying beside him, not on him, kissing his face, his neck, taking care of him like he always does. Just in a new way now. When Eddie pictured submitting, in the abstract, he was expecting punishment. Pain. To be used, and probably discarded. Thought that's what he wanted. Rough, hard, mean. He thought he needed to be hurt, or tortured, just a little.
And maybe he still does.
But Steve Harrington is none of those things, and his style of taking control isn't either. Steve's a take-charge kind of guy, but there's a softness there that Eddie never wants to see go away, honestly.
"Was that okay?" Steve asks, and he looks so fucking nervous.
"More than," Eddie says, looking right in his eyes, "thank you."
"So, the handcuffs?" Steve asks, hint of a grin pulling at his lip.
"Wishful thinking," Eddie admits. Then raises his eyebrows, "Why? You interested?"
"For sure. Can we ease into it?" Steve asks, wrapping his arm around Eddie's waist, holding him tight, still so tight, and Eddie's sure he'll be asleep in minutes, feeling this comfortable.
This secure.
This safe.
This loved.
"Definitely," Eddie says, and closes his eyes, turning his face towards Steve's, nuzzling into him. Letting himself be held, not only down, but close.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @subeddieweek and follow along with the fun! 🖤
Notes: It was harder to write a first time (for both!) and have them have super defined roles. They're figuring their shit out. Together. And I like think Service Top Steve can grow into Pleasure Dom Steve, but not right out of the gate.
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Haii :3 no clue if you already did this or not..but can you do a Bill Kaulitz smut fic of like Bill having a crush on the reader in class and they get assigned a project to work together on & they decide to do it at Bills house and end up doing the freaky freak freak 👅👅👅🔥🔥🔥
OOO YES
crush
PAIRINGS: Bill 2007 x Female reader
CONTENT: FLUFF + SMUT
SYPNOSIS: Bill has a MASSIVE crush on y/n and has for years, one day the teacher announces that she would be pairing them up for a group project, Bill hoped to be paired with y/n and was surprised when he was, multiple opportunities racing through his head. Y/N goes to Bill's house to complete and tension is filled in the air then they freak duh
A/N: this photo omg.
WARNINGS: dom!bill, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), fingering
I've had a crush on this girl called y/n for years, she transferred to our school in 2nd grade and when I first layed my eyes on her, I was in love. She had such beautiful features, beautiful doe eyes, silky smooth hair and smelled amazing.
Throughout the years I've been trying to get her attention, sometimes she'd laugh at the jokes I made, any little bit of attention she gave me made me fall for her even more.
The teacher announced in class that we'd be having a group project and that she'd he picking the pairs. I crossed my fingers, praying for it to be Y/N.
She called out the last set of pairs and my head flew up as I heard "y/n and Bill", I tried to act cool on the outside and I sat next to her casually, but inside I was freaking the fuck out, she was so beautiful up close, her eyes hypnotizing.
"Do you want to come to my house after school and complete it?" I said, stumbling over my words, her presence making me super flustered. She nodded and smiled brightly "of course! I'll meet you at the school gates at 3pm and we can walk together" her smile could make anyones day better, she was such a smart and kind girl, always caring for others.
We continued to talk for the rest of the lesson, getting to know each other. I was so mesmerised by her, staring at her in awe.
As the end of the school day rolled by, I saw Y/N waiting for me at the school entrance, her beautiful hair flowing in the wind. "Hey gorgeous" I smirked, tapping her shoulder. She turned around and blushed softly, "hey! Let's go!" she grabbed my arm and started to walk.
I noticed as we walked she was slightly shivering, the cold air getting to her. "Hey..take this" I smiled and took my jacket off, wrapping it around her shoulders, the black leather complimenting her.
"Oh! Thanks..." she chuckled nervously, obviously flustered. I grinned to myself, everything was going so well.
As we arrived to my house, I brought her to my room and set out all the things we needed. We laid on the bed and worked on the project, researching and discussing the topic, our teacher made us do our assignment about rocks and it was so boring.
After a while we took a break, watching a movie. I slowly wrapped my arms around her shoulder, pulling her a bit closer. Out of the corner of my eye I saw as she smiled softly, resting her head on me.
During the movie I placed my hand on her thigh softly, my thumb running the skin. "What are you doing?" She suddenly spoke up, my eyes widened and I retracted my hand "sorry! I just...I" I stuttered, scared that I had taken things too far.
"oh no it's ok Bill!" She giggled and kissed my cheek softly, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head on my chest.
I felt my cheeks get hotter, I had never been this close to her before. I noticed my pants tightening a little bit. 'Shit shit shit not now!' I thought to myself, hoping she wouldn't notice.
She moved her arm a little and brushed over my erection, earning a small gasp out of me. She turned her head up to me, a look of concern plastered on her pretty face "what's wrong? Did I do something?" she pouted, I chuckled and shook my head "no..uh..it's nothing" she nodded and sighed, moving her arm again and noticing the mountain in my pants.
"Bill..are you...?" She looked back at me again, her eyes wide. I sighed and nodded in defeat "I'm sorry gorgeous I just... I can't help it...you're so-" suddenly, I was interrupted by a soft kissed being placed on my lips.
My eyes widened in shock, slithering my hand around the back of her head and kissing her passionately. "Mm.." she moaned into the kiss, palming my cock.
I kissed her harder, my lips continuously smashing into hers as her hands teased my clothed cock.
My hands fell down to her hips, lifting her delicate body and flipping us over, her underneath me. I rubbed my hard cock against her leg, unbuttoning her shirt and slowly taking it off to reveal her black lacey bra, "fuck.." my lips made their way to her chest and neck, kissing and sucking softly.
"you're so beautiful" I murmured against her skin, my hands trailing to her back, she arched her back and I fiddled with her bra, clipping it off and revealing her gorgeous tits. I groaned softly and latched onto one of her nipples, sucking sweetly.
Soft moans escaped her lips as her back arched higher, I slipped my fingers down her shorts and into her panties, finding her wet folds and rubbing up and down, teasing her.
"fuck...Bill..." she whimpered "put then in.." she looked up at me, her eyes desperate and urgent, I smirked and slowly slipped 2 digits into her, stretching her pussy out. "Oh fuck!" she moaned softly as I curled my fingers against her g spot, "so tight...gotta make you ready for me..." I kissed her roughly, thrusting harder.
I felt her hands scratch at my back, the pain weirdly pleasuring, making my cock ache for her. "So hard for you baby..need to be inside you" I moaned into her ear, my breath hot against her neck.
"Please...I need you" she winced, her hands flying to my pants, tugging them down. I helped her and pulled them off, along with my boxers.
She stared in shock at my length, "is that gonna fit?" her eyes darting to mine, I chuckled "don't worry baby, we can stop if it's too much" I kissed her neck softly, pulling her shorts and panties in a swift move.
I aligned myself at her entrance, slowly pushing in and stretching her out more, "a-ah!" she moaned loudly, digging her nails in my back again, this time way harsher. I knew she would leave a mark but it was so worth it, having her here with me was all I ever wanted.
I finally bottomed out, retracting my hips and slamming back into her, creating quite a harsh pace. Snapping my hips forward to pound into her hole, my tip drilling into her sweet spot.
Her moans were like music to my ears, sweet melodies I could listen to forever. She held onto me tightly, legs wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer.
She leaned forward and kissed my neck softly, leaving little marks everywhere. "I've liked you for years y/n..you're so fucking sexy, so caring and kind" I grunted, slamming my hips into hers.
She smiled softly, "i-mm...i've liked you too..f-fuck..for a long time.." she said, speaking to the best of her abilities, my cock slamming in and out of her didn't make things any better.
I chuckled, "that's all I need to hear baby" I reached my hand down, tracing soft circles on her clit "cum f'me baby..be a good girl" I muttered, my thrusts getting faster, eager for my release.
I felt tension building up in my stomach and with a tight clench of her pussy I shot my cum into her, coating her walls with my thick load.
I continued to thrust into her, her orgasm slowly approaching, her tight pussy teasing me immensley. "Fuckk!" she cried out, clenching tightly one more time and cumming all over my cock.
I fucked our highs out, a little ring of cum at the base of my cock, I slowly pulled out, our shared fluids dripping out slowly onto my bed.
I quickly grabbed a tissue from my nightstand and wiped her clean, laying beside her and holding her close, kissing the top of her head gently. "When are we going to finish that project?" she giggled, looking up at me, I shrugged "tomorrow, I want you to be in my arms for now, that's all that matters" kissing her gently.
"Did you mean it when you said you've liked me for years Bill?"
"Yes of course, I've liked you since the day I saw you, I've never liked anyone else" I chuckled, a little embarassed.
"Well, I thought of you as a friend for a while, until 7th grade, something just changed.." she sighed "you were just different to the other guys, more respectful, super kind and caring, the day you gave me your jacket when it was raining heavily is a memory I'll never forget" she smiled brightly, I tangled my fingers in her hair, playing with it "i'm glad you feel the same way, I can't believe it took us until our last year of high school to finally be where we are" I whispered sweetly in her ear, caressing her back with my other hand.
E/N: SORRY IF THIS IS BAD I'M JUST REALLY TIRED TONIGHT
tags: @tomscumdump @itsmealaiah
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Till then I will forever miss you – sv5
Sebastian Vettel x reader
word count: 1588
summary: In which Sebastian Vettel knew he couldn’t be friends with his ex-partner until he got his priorities straight.
The news about Sebastian Vettel’s retirement was out and everywhere. His video has already been shared more than a million times in the few days it has been out. So he guessed anyone with a minor interest in the sport knew who he was and what the future looked like to him now.
Or at least what they imagine his future would look like.
The reality is that not even Sebastian knew what life had in store for him.
He was a divorced thirty-something, with three daughters who lived away from him most of the year and an apartment that made him feel like a caged animal. He had 4 world championships and a full passport, but he also had 35 years behind him in which he felt that he had achieved nothing in his personal life.
He could try and blame his fast-paced professional life for his half-hearted personal life, but he couldn't deny that he was mostly to blame for his failed marriage to a wonderful woman, his poor parenting of wonderful daughters who adored him, and his too-modern home in a city he hated.
Since his divorce, he had dedicated all his energy to racing and fast cars, but he quickly discovered that his heart wasn't in it either. So he obviously knew that he should retire and leave that seat free for someone whose heart was at the wheel.
The worst thing was that Sebastian knew where his heart was, he just didn't know how to get to it. It just had been lost since 2015.
Without it, he had been floundering ever since. He had moved, he had pursued a different lifestyle, he had gotten married, he had even changed teams trying to find it, but he always knocked on the wrong doors only. The truth was that the closest he had been to happiness had been when his daughters were born, but by then he was no longer the man he wanted his daughters to learn from.
But now, he thought. Now he was free of the chains to which he had bound himself. Now he was finally starting to realize his mistakes and taking the right steps to correct them. Now he was ready to be the man he wanted to be, for himself and, most importantly, for his daughters.
After the last race of the season, Sebastian took the first flight to his native Germany and completely left behind his past life and the mistakes he had carried in it.
He bought a house in the country as he had always dreamed of and painted rooms with children's motifs for small beds and toys. He adopted a dog as his psychologist had recommended. And he dusted off the old cell phone that he always carried with him.
It was a long shot and he knew it, but it was the only thing he could think of to find peace and happiness.
In those long eight years, there was a good chance that she had changed her number or blocked him. Maybe she too had gotten married and had a life away from him, probably better than the one he could offer her.
Maybe she had forgotten him. Maybe he should have forgotten her.
But there was no chance, however remote, that he could live in a world in which she did not occupy his thoughts at all hours. He'd been a stupid kid when he'd let her get away thinking he could do it.
He had promised her father that he would do right by her and that is what he had tried to do all his life since he met her in school. His problem had been thinking that he was doing it when he let her go so that she could find happiness away from his chaotic life when she wanted to start a family and he could only think about lifting the championship cup with the red team.
He had been a fool thinking a trophy could give him more than a life with her and even more so for believing that she could be happier away from him.
And all for what? To end up forming a family far from hers? To have his heart searching for something that he knew he would only find with her? He was a fool and he had paid for it by being miserable for the next few years, thinking that his repentance was not enough to deserve her back.
Now, something about him had changed, although he wasn't sure what at the moment. He knew now. It had been the robbery he suffered during one of the Grand Prix he raced in which he lost the photo he kept of her in her wallet. He had hundreds more hidden in his house, but that one was special. That had been a gift from her after graduating from school, a photo that her parents had taken of them to remember their last day as classmates, and that she had wanted him to have to remember her if they were not classmates at high school.
Losing that photo had been the last blow he needed to get her life back in order. When he retrieved the empty wallet he could only kneel on the ground and cry for the life he had lost. And when he found it after hours looking for it in all the garbage containers in the city he knew to do something, even if it was for nothing.
Less than a year later he was a different man. What remained to be known is whether she was also a different woman. And what that meant to them.
After breaking up their relationship, they both accepted that they couldn’t be friends. Not when they knew what it felt like to be more. Not when they had never been friends.
Since they were six years old they had been best friends, lovers, confidants, each other's other half... but never friends. Now they were nothing, not even acquaintances who follow each other’s lives on social media. Despite having let her be free to find happiness elsewhere, Sebastian knew that he couldn't bear to see her happy away from him.
He thought he was sacrificing himself for her when in reality he had just condemned them both.
However, now he wanted to change it and his only asset was that old phone that he had kept as his most precious possession.
The only number still saved there was the one he used to call at all hours and that he still had memorized.
By the fourth ring, Sebastian was convinced he had lost his last hope. But she had always told him that a fifth championship awaited her. And there was no better victory in his eyes than that fifth tone that she cut to make way for the voice that always accompanied him.
“Hello?” she whispered in German.
“Hello” he whispered back and he felt like coming finally home “I didn't know if you had changed your phone number”
“I did” she confessed “but I kept the phone in case you ever called”.
Sebastian completely forgot the paper he held tremblingly in his hand with everything he wanted to say written down when he heard her.
“You did?” he dared to ask.
“Of course,” she said “who could I not?”
“I didn’t hope you would wait” It was difficult to hear her with her racing heartbeat in his ears, but Sebastian did his best to memorize every one of her words.
“I have always waited for your love, Sebastian”
At that he couldn’t hold any longer the tears that begged to break free from his eyes. A sob left his mouth. What had he condemned them to when he chose for her?
“Everything's fine. We have a lot to tell each other, it's fine. It was difficult for me, but I understood why you did it. It wasn't our time, we didn't know how to align our dreams. But I felt your love in your sacrifice. Everything is alright.”
Sebastian could only nod even if he knew she couldn't see him. Words could not come out of his mouth with his body paralyzed in the only chair he had for now in his new living room. That photo that she almost lost on her knee staring at him.
“I’m back” he gathered the strength to say.
“I know” he answered.
“I came back for you” was his time to confess.
She laughed timidly at that and more tears escaped his eyes. “I know”.
“Can I see you?” he begged.
There was a lot he hadn't asked. He didn't know anything about what his life had been like in those eight years, so he didn't even know if he could ask that question. But he had to do it now that he had worked up the courage to do it.
“Sebastian... I also tried to look for you elsewhere” she whispered again, probably afraid of what those words could mean for both of them.
“I don’t care, liebe. There's nothing you can say that will make me love you less”.
“I have my two boys with me till next month” she said.
“I have my daughters with me next week for a month too”.
She laughed again and he knew she also felt it. He knew that she felt that everything was fine now, that everything was finally falling into place.
They will be fine.
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Has anyone chosen
"Well fuck you too you little shit" because that one sounds like it could be equal parts angst and equal parts just plain funny!
“Hey.” Sonic continued with a sterner voice, turning the kit’s chair so he was facing him. “What's wrong?” He was getting even more worried.
“I already told you; nothing.” The fox said, trying to turn his chair back around. “Just leave me alone.”
“I can't do that, bud.” The hedgehog’s ears wilted as a pang of rejection stabbed his heart when Tails’ face scrunched up at the nickname. “C’mon. This isn't like you.”
“Then maybe you don't know me as well as you think.” Tails grumbled, refusing to look at his brother. “Go ahead and ask one of your friends. They'll tell you this is normal for me now.”
“They're our friends, Tails.” It hurt to not use a nickname, but the kid obviously wasn't in the mood so he figured it was best to avoid them. “Did something happen?”
“No, nothing at all.” Tails gave him an annoyingly fake smile, “It was only a six month long war that you were presumed dead during and then didn't care to talk to me when it was finally over.” The fox rolled his eyes as he finally managed to pry off the paw that was keeping him from turning the chair. “Not a big deal at all. Running’s more important to you, I get it.”
Well. Sonic wasn't expecting that.
Which was obvious, considering he couldn't seem to pick his jaw up off the floor.
“What are you talking about?” It seemed like the obvious first question to ask, because he really had no idea where this was coming from. “Running isn't more important to me than you are.”
“That why you took off first chance you got?” Tails glared at him from the corner of his eye, “You've been gone for months and haven't responded to a single message I've sent you. But you reply to Amy just fine.”
who knew an 8yo could be so grumpy (he hasn't slept in days and is living off coffee and snack bars)
but this is me playing w how tails probably felt after sonic ran off after forces ✌️
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Ichiji's right eyebrow being wonky is something that I'm not too sure about, because as an artist I understand that mistakes happen when you're really tired. I very often screw up my drawings when I'm tired too. Missing details, accidentally drawing something backwards or mirrored, drawing wrong accessories on the wrong person, etc.
But there are two examples where I felt like it looks too glaringly-visible to screw up:
As an example, there has been multiple times when I draw Sanji or his bros with their eyebrow backwards, so errors do happen sometimes. But the curl actually just flat out missing like this is a bit weird.
There's other panels where you can argue that it was meant to be covered by hair, but sensei just accidentally drew the hair parting too far to the left. The two above are just too dead-on to be missed.
And my whole point of bringing this up is the above examples also happen to be incidents where Ichiji is clearly displaying intense emotions.
The child panel, for example. Ichiji has been shown to be irritated at Sanji in other scenes, but this is the only time that he got so angry he started beating up Sanji. In all other times, he just watched, and Niji and Yonji are the ones doing the beating.
See below, how the brow under the bangs seems like it's drawn in the same manner as how Sanji's one is drawn, and see how different it looks when the curly brow is properly drawn:
Ichiji just looks so intensely enraged at that moment, it feels like there has to be something else that is wrong here.
I left that first one as the raw, because what he says (生意気) in this context seems to be better translated as "How impudent/how insolent". Why is he this angry about being hit? Why is he so angry that Sanji is "different"? Why say "don't touch me"? That punch was obviously weak and did nothing.
Judge was just unimpressed when Sanji tried to fight him, so what is Ichiji so angry about?
(incidentally, this is probably why a few people got concerned when Sanji called Vegapunk "insolent man")
As of now, we don't know what's happening yet, but you don't see this level of reaction from Niji and Yonji.
I have previously wondered if Ichiji's modifications are actually also "messed up", and that the eyebrow being weird might be indicative of that.
There were also panels where it seems like he's having emotional moments, like the adult Ichiji panel I highlighted on top (details and explanation in this post). If the weird eyebrow is explicitly happening during the emotional outbursts... that sort of makes him Sanji's reverse, which possibly implies that when Sanji's brows flip, it also looks like this:
There's also other lore analysis/theory I have that really points to Ichiji and Sanji being mirrors/opposite counterparts, which I probably might write up later, and if all of that is true, I don't know yet what sensei's intention for it is.
There's one additional scene where you might be able to argue the curl is also missing, but this one is not as glaringly strange as the first two:
If that was actually not a mistake, it's another point to the "display of emotion" argument.
It's less obvious in English, but in Japanese, he was using a rather unusually rough speech in this very specific panel. There's not enough dialogue to be truly certain that this is out of the ordinary, but again, if this is actually something that's not normal and the eyebrow is actually also weird... well, we have questions to be asked.
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Runaway - Yandere!Vox
TW: Abusive behavior, hypnosis, suggestive, dubious consent implied
Reader is gender neutral
It was a miracle you managed to escape Vox. Not literally. Miracles aren't a thing in Hell, especially not for you. It was a fluke, a mistake on Vox's part, a happy accident that you took full advantage of. It was luck that he happened to have business in another ring on that specific day. You were able to slip out without him noticing, or any of the Vees for that matter.
Not that they really cared to begin with, only to avoid Vox's rage. They both acknowledged you, but as nothing but Vox's pet. That's what you felt like, so they weren't entirely wrong.
And now you were trying your best to avoid him, making your way through the Ring of Pride. You weren't sure where to go, just far away from Vox as possible.
It had been three days since your escape, and you hadn't heard anything about it on the news. But that was more because you were scared to stand next to any TV screen that wasn't bolted down and already turned off.
So you kept your head down, hood up, and tried to think of a plan.
You weren't sure how Vox would react when he finally found you. Well, angry, obviously. Furious even. Would he hypnotize you again? Probably. Not before ripping you a new one. He had never laid a hand on you, but that didn't mean he wouldn't now.
His constant surveillance would make it borderline impossible for something like this to happen again. You couldn't afford to fuck it up.
You felt like an animal on the run. A rat in a maze. Everything you did was to avoid him. It was too exhausting. And dangerous. You couldn't get enough rest to make up for it.
There were so many ways this could go wrong. And so many ways it could go worse. You were ready for anything, willing to do anything to stay away from him. You felt like you were at the end of your rope, but you didn't have any rope left, and you were starting to fall off the ledge.
You had no one. There was no one you could turn to for help, not here. Even if anyone took pity on you, no one would be willing to piss off an Overlord.
But you knew you couldn't keep this up forever. There was no way for you to leave the ring, and Vox had cameras everywhere. Honestly, you're surprised you even still had freedom. Not that it felt like it.
Maybe he wasn't looking for you at all. Maybe he was just waiting for you to come crawling back to him. Or maybe he was watching you right now, waiting for you to slip up so he could swoop in and reclaim you.
One thing you knew Vox would avoid at all costs was to ruin his reputation. He cared far too much about that. So he probably wouldn't want to advertise that his little pet had escaped from his leash. You imagined that was the only reason you were free, or else there'd be a bounty on your head right now.
As you trudged through the streets of Pride, you turned a corner and saw who you recognized as Vox's bodyguards. Though he had tons of them, you knew most of them. Whenever he was gone for business purposes, there'd always be at least two keeping a close eye on you.
Your heart pounded and you felt a wave of dread. But they hadn't seen you yet, and the sidewalk was crowded enough that you could quickly hide in the bustle. You tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while keeping your eyes on them. They seemed to be looking around, checking the crowd for something. Looking for you, you thought.
The crowd dissipated, but a little too soon. There were several more bodyguards on the other side of the street, and they quickly spotted you. Your breath hitched in your throat.
One of them raised a walkie-talkie to their mouth, and you broke out into a run.
You ran as fast as you could, zigzagging through the crowds and almost running into other demons. You turned corners and weaved through alleys, and you could hear the bodyguards not far behind.
Your hood blew off in your frantic running, but you didn't bother to pull it back up. You could barely breathe, the panic and terror taking over.
After what felt like forever, you managed to lose them. You were almost too exhausted to stand, leaning against a wall as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell heavily as you gasped for air. Your legs were shaking violently.
There was a familiar sound of static behind you. Your heart stopped.
You spun around, only to come face to face with Vox. He wore an angry scowl, eyes narrowed darkly. You tried to step back, but you bumped into the wall behind you. He stood right in front of you, towering over you. He was absolutely terrifying like this, and you had no way to escape.
He reached out and grabbed your arm roughly, and you flinched and tried to yank away, but his grip was like iron. You looked around desperately for help, but there was no one around. Of course there wasn't. You had run so far from the busy streets, and it was far too late for anyone to be wandering around. If not for that, Vox probably wouldn't have shown up himself.
He dragged you back towards the limo waiting around the corner, ignoring your pleading and resistance. You clawed at his hand and dug your heels into the ground, but it was futile.
"Let go! Please!" you cried, trying to dig your heels into the ground, but Vox just kept pulling you along. You kicked and screamed, but it didn't matter. There was no one here to hear you, no one to save you.
Vox opened the limo door and tossed you inside, slamming it shut behind him. You scrambled backwards into the door. You were cornered, trapped between Vox and the door. Vox climbed into the limo and the driver started moving. You pressed yourself further against the door.
"Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" he said, his voice a low growl. You shuddered. "I'm your husband. Don't I deserve a little respect?"
'Husband'. That word made you sick. He always claimed that's what he was. You couldn't remember the ceremony, but the papers were real. There wasn't a doubt in your mind he used hypnosis for most of your relationship. You couldn't remember a single memory where you actually were in love with him, especially how much he claimed you were to be.
You felt a lot of things when you were with him, but it certainly wasn't love. You were scared. Angry. Disgusted. Violated. But you were never in love.
"I believe we've talked about how this'd go if you ever tried it, didn't I?" he continued. He pulled out his phone and showed you a video. It was of you, running through the streets of Pride, looking even more exhausted and miserable than you felt, even under the hood. "I know every street cam in Hell, don't forget that."
"Then why didn't you come for me sooner?" you rasped. Your throat felt raw from running, and your lungs burned. Your arm throbbed from where he grabbed you, and you knew there'd be a bruise later.
"I wanted to see if you'd come crawling back to me on your own," he said, leaning forward to look down on you. He was sitting right next to you, his leg pressed against yours. "And you didn't."
You shrunk back slightly. His gaze was harsh and intimidating. The lights of his eyes flickered across his screen and danced on your skin. You felt his gaze bore into you, like he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind.
You tried to pull your knees up to your chest, but Vox reached out and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. He brushed his thumb along your lower lip.
"I think you need another lesson on how things work," he growled.
"I don't want--"
"Did I ask what you wanted?"
He pinned you against the limo door and leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. You could feel his breath on your cheek.
"Don't act like you didn't miss this, baby," he purred, his tone changing like a switch had been flipped. "Why'd you leave me? Have I not been spending enough time with you? Am I not making you feel loved enough? I'm the only thing that can protect you down here, but I can't do that if you keep running away."
You squirmed under his grasp. He was holding you so tight that it was hard to breathe. It hurt.
His eye swirled, the familiar hypnotic glow enveloping your vision, and the world around you began to melt away. It was like your consciousness was sinking into a swamp. You were still aware of what was happening, but you couldn't control your own body or voice. Even your emotions beneath his control were dulled down, and it felt like a fog had rolled in over your mind.
You went limp and slumped forward against Vox as he cradled you. His hands traveled down your body and slid up under your shirt, brushing against your stomach. Your skin tingled wherever he touched it.
Just as you heard a dark chuckle from him, just as his hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants...
"We're here," the driver said, interrupting the moment. Vox's hands lingered on your hips for a second longer before pulling away. He moved out of the limo first, then helped you out. You followed him inside without hesitation.
He led you inside the tower, an arm wrapped around your waist. As soon as you stepped inside, he kicked the door closed behind him and picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the bedroom.
You wouldn't be coming out of your hypnotized state any time soon.
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So like you know how there’s that theory that the current avatar has the face of the previous avatar’s love
But like Kyoshi looks nothing like Kuruk’s
Two options for that(that aren’t It’s Wrong of course)
Option 1: Current Avatar and Previous Avatar’s love only share a face for a bit. (Ex Baby Katara and Baby Korra look a good bit similar but stop once they’re no longer itty bitty, Aang obviously stopped looking anything like Roku’s wife by at most 30)
So Kyoshi did look like her but only when she was real young.
Option 2: Kuruk’s love lost her face to Koh so there technically wasn’t anything for Kyoshi to look like
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begin again (edwina's version) is so 💖💖💖
Obviously you know exactly what this is! My currently very meandering attempt at a post S2 Edwina-centric fic as she navigates her return to society with a damaged reputation, learns that suppressing her hurt and anger out of guilt is not the same thing as actually working through it and letting it go, and struggles to trust her growing feelings for Prince Fredrich.
Here's a bit more of the scene between her and Eloise I posted not long ago.
“It’s just so . . . inane. And degrading,” Eloise says acerbically, staring at the glittering whirl in front of them with an expression of undisguised disdain. “Letting themselves be paraded around like bejewelled livestock to be weighed and measured.”
When she doesn’t get an immediate reply she looks over and lifts an eyebrow.
“Can you honestly say I’m wrong?”
Edwina takes a long sip of her lemonade - not particularly tasteful, but still appropriately sour - as she considers her answer. Last year she would have made some vague, conciliatory remark intended to smooth Eloise’s ruffled feathers and keep the peace, that revealed nothing of her true thoughts. Perhaps last year she would not have known what her true thoughts really were.
Today she lowers her glass, and looks Eloise in the eye as she says, “No, I do not think you are wrong, per se, but I think you don’t recognise your own privilege in being able to say so.”
Eloise snorts. “My privilege? You mean the privilege of having a brain?”
A flash of irritation gives bite to Edwina’s reply, “No, I mean the privilege of having a wealthy, powerful and loving family that can support you.”
The bemused frown on Eloise’s face makes it clear that she doesn’t understand. Swallowing a sigh, Edwina takes her elbow and steers her to a quieter corner of the ballroom and points to a blonde girl in a glittering pink dress, dancing with Lord Fife.
“You see her? Miss Grace Campbell. Her father gambled away their family’s fortune. She has no brothers, so if she does not marry well, she and her mother will be destitute.”
Turning slightly, she gestures to another, dark-haired young lady laughing prettily at something Benedict Bridgerton is saying.
“Or her? Lady Veronica Ryswell. Her uncle is the Earl of Staffordshire, and has plenty of wealth, but there are rumours that he has quite a temper.”
She pauses, letting that sink in and out of the corner of her eye sees Eloise start to shift uncomfortably as she realises what Edwina is implying.
“Or take me.”
“You?”
“What money my father left us when he died is all but gone. My grandparents have disowned us. My reputation is hanging by a thread and I have no dowry.”
“Anthony would never let you –” Eloise starts but Edwina cuts across her.
“My options are to marry, or to be dependent on the man who humiliated me in front of the ton and is the reason my reputation has been damaged in the first place.”
There’s a pause, and this time it’s Edwina’s turn to raise an eyebrow - almost daring Eloise to contradict her assessment of her situation, for she can tell the other girl is struggling with the desire to come to her brother’s defence. But, in the end, she can’t, and her shoulders slump a bit at the realisation.
Edwina nods and continues. “I would not for a minute try to argue that society is fair to women. I know very well it isn’t. And I don’t think you’re wrong to want more - I would have liked the chance to go to university if I could. But I also don’t think you realise that you have more freedom than almost any other woman in this room. You will never have to worry about money or how you are to live. Your brother will never force you to marry someone you don’t want. Your family’s powerful enough that any scandal that touches you will last days at the most - how long was it after that Whistledown piece about you that you started getting invited to things again?”
A strange expression crossed Eloise’s face at the mention of her brief brush with notoriety, but Edwina’s too caught up in her own thoughts to pay it much attention.
“It’s been a year and there are some who still cut me in public, you know. And any eligible bachelor who comes near me is warned that I’ll likely jilt him. If there’s something you want to study, I would bet that Anthony would find you a tutor. You might not be able to do as much as your brothers, Eloise, but you could do so much more than so many of us if you tried.”
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how would a redemption arc work for azula? because like you said, azula isn't even close to the realization that she was wrong. what kind of major event would it take for azula to realize her genocidal ideals were wrong? how would zuko react to her change? because I dont want zuko to accept it right away for obvious reasons.
I'm not exactly sure how a redemption arc would work for Azula. I much prefer her the way she is in the show, a tragedy to illustrate how being abused can sometimes turn you into an abuser yourself. If she were to have a redemption arc, it should be away from anyone' influence. Away from Ozai, because obviously, and away from Zuko as well. I think it would be good way to illustrate how a victim does not have to help their abuser, and it would give Azula the opportunity to find herself without exacerbating her inferiority complex when it comes to Zuko. I feel like if he was always around to help her, she'd learn nothing about personal responsibility. Even Iroh didn't help Zuko when it really came down to it, and Iroh wasn't even Zuko's victim in the way that Zuko is Azula's. But anyway, I'll give it a go.
Maybe I'd have Azula travel around the world, learning more perspectives kind of like Zuko did. I do think it would be harder for her to do than it was for Zuko, but I think being forced to confront the world and every perception of it that she's had would help her on the road to becoming a better person. The same way Zuko did, she should go on a journey by herself, having to struggle to find food and shelter, struggling to get by. She once thought she was so capable, so powerful, but she's struggling. She put all her value into being the best firebender, a prodigy, a raw talent that she was born with, the divine right, but she can't see any of that now. Her natural firebending isn't coming to her aid here. It doesn't bring her food, it doesn't bring her shelter, and it doesn't bring her any help. She's so hungry and tired... she can't even firebend that well at all, can't conjure up her flames as strong as they used to be.
It's almost as though her skill, her expertise in fighting with fire... isn't as important or useful as she thought. It doesn't matter as much as she thought it would. It leads to her needing to reevaluate everything she knows, because if what she believed was most important really isn't... then what is important? What makes her worthy, what makes her special?
And when she comes across people who are suffering the same way she is, instead of scoffing at them and dismissing their pain like she once would have, she sees herself in them, and she understands them. And she also begins to understand that her father, and she by extension, did this to them. It sits wrong with her, now that she knows what it feels like. She's already beginning to realize that maybe her divine right isn't all that she thought it was, but she clings onto it anyway, because it's the foundation of her worldview, and without it she has nothing.
Azula keeps on travelling, she meets more and more people. I think it should be the Earth Kingdom that she travels in most, because it's where she caused the most damage to the people, it's the place she wanted to burn to the ground, and now she's forced to travel there.
And then maybe, on her travels, she stays with a family one day, who let her in out of the goodness of their heart. She scoffs at them for being so weak, so naive, but she's tired and hungry and has nowhere else to go. While she's staying there, she happens upon a scene where one of their kids is getting hugged by their mother, getting a kiss on their forehead or something, and she can't help but remember her mother doing that to her, and she can't help but remember that her father never did. And her mother was weak, and her father was is powerful, but... the kid looks so happy. And so was she, back then, when her mother showed her she loved her. But she didn't love Azula. She didn't.
But did she? Could it be that she really did love her?
Azula runs away from them in the middle of the night.
Because sure, it's a worthless display of affection, so far removed from power and fear and everything her father taught her to be, everything she strove to emulate. And they're just Earth Kingdom peasants, after all, what would they know about who she is and what she's destined for? But she can't help but think about the joy in that child's eyes, the loving way his mother looked at him, like how her mother used to look at her, how she used to feel so special when her mother stroked her hair and gave her a kiss on her forehead. Even Azula can't mistake what the look in that mother's eyes were. And if it reminds her of her mother... was her father wrong? And if he were wrong about that... what else could he have been wrong about? Her, raw talent, her divine right which she's already questioning?
And those people... they had no power. They had no money, no glory, no superior bending ability, but... they were so happy. And as long as she can remember, her family wasn't. Of course, maybe that was Zuko's fault for being so weak, her mother's fault for being so weak, her uncle's fault for being so weak... but this family has nothing, nothing like she did, and they're still so loving, so happy. And she still can't shake her faith in her father entirely (though it already began, back during Sozin's Comet), but... maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep in her heart, she's forced to admit that maybe she would liked this a lot better. Her father never did this... but maybe he should have.
She keeps travelling. Some people help her, some turn her away. She understands both of them. She would turn away anyone who came to her for help. They never were worth her time. But now she's on the other side, the one in need of help. And the people who help her, once she would have called the naive and weak and foolish, but they are the ones who help her stay alive, who she depends on. She's starting to realize who the better person is, between these two. When it comes down to just being a person, stripped of wealth and power, who it's better to be. Her father always said these things to her, and she believed it for the longest time. She did everything she could to be on his right side, to be like him, to be better than her brother... but ultimately, in her time of greatest need, none of it matters. What's really helping her is kindness, is compassion, the things she derided and scoffed at. In the fact of the harsh reality, she has to admit that her father is wrong. She can't deny it anymore.
Maybe she happens upon a refugee camp at some point, and she sees these people suffering, with nothing. She used to believe that weakness led to your own suffering, and that it would never happen to her. Zuko brought his fate upon himself, after all. Iroh lost his son because of his weakness. Her mother was sent away because she was too weak. But Azula sees these people, there people who have nothing because everything they had was burnt away. She would have blamed them too, but she's also spent so long feeling helpless, realizing that when it comes to the world outside the confines of her majestic royal palace filled with luxury and comfort, that not everyone has that kind of power, even her. Especially not her. And she knows, just as surely as she knows that she wanted the fire that destroyed their homes to be lit, she knows in the depths of her mind and heart that this is their fault. The fault of her father, and her own. Just like what happened to Zuko was her father's fault.
And they still help her, believing her to be one of them, someone who has been hurt by the Fire Nation like they have. And for the first time, she feels that she doesn't deserve their help. She doesn't deserve their kindness. She's horrified by the true reality of her actions and their consequences, horrified by what she's done.
And then maybe someone recognizes her. And then people are drawing weapons and trying to defend themselves. They all come together in hatred for her. In fear of her. It's what she's tried to achieve for so long, to subjugate these people, to rule them, to make everyone fear her. But she sees them come together, fearing her, and she only feels sick. There are children crying, somewhere, and for a second, she sees Zuko in his place, crying, half of his face burnt off-
She runs. She can't deal with this. Some people chase her, trying to take her down, because they're so afraid of her. She's never truly been confronted with such raw hatred before. She thinks of all the children, with burns on their skin, and thinks of Zuko, his face burning, and she thinks of how she had smiled. She thinks of her father, teaching her all sorts of falsehoods about power, and worthiness, and how she knew, she did, that it would only last as long as it pleased him. She thinks of that family, happy and loving, and how much better it seemed compared to her own family. She thinks about how so many other families have been the same way. She thinks about how even the people in this camp, who are so hurt and powerless, were ready to fight her to protect their family.
She thinks about her mother, who was the one who really loved her. Realizing her father was wrong also brings about the realization that she was wrong about her mother. That her mother was trying to protect her. From her father. The man who would burn the face of his son, all because he wouldn't fight his father. Who treated Zuko like he was worth nothing because he couldn't bend as well as her. Who treated her like she was worth something only because she could bend her fire better, the same bending ability that she's realized is ultimately meaningless, which doesn't matter when it comes down to the realest parts of the world. Who fed her lies and treated her like a tool, because he saw her as a weapon, not a daughter. He never looked at her the way her mother did. With love. He just wanted to use her, and he cast her away when he was done with her. Just like he did with Zuko. She wasn't special, she wasn't born lucky, she was just more convenient, and he used her and discarded her like a cheap toy.
And she has to admit, that fear isn't the answer. She's seen people now, people who are more afraid of her than anyone has ever been before. They should be running away. But they don't. She thinks about these people, who she thought were weak, but really, they are stronger than her, because even in the face of fear, they fight. Because they have love, and that's always been more powerful. Just like Zuko. Like Mai and Ty Lee.
Her mother wouldn't have done what her father did. She would have helped Azula. She tried so hard to. Her brother tried too, as she fought him and relished in his pain. So did her uncle, while she spurned him and wished him dead. So did these people, even though she wanted to burn them to the ground not so long ago. Her father was well on his way to do it. Burn down their homes, kill these people, some of whom are her age too. And she suggested it, she wanted to be by his side, like it was some game, some glorious quest.
Her father is a monster. So is she. She's always laughed it off, believing her mother thought that about her, and trying to pretend it didn't matter. But it does. Now it does. She's always known all this, somewhere in the depths of her mind, her mother's teachings had left a mark, but she can no longer run from any of it anymore. It's the truth. She's a monster, and for the first time, she feels remorse. She can no longer hide behind her belief of superiority, of her divine right to rule. She feels guilt, the way she did on that day, before she lost everything she once thought mattered, when her mother looked at her and said I love you Azula. I do.
From then, she keeps travelling. She tries to avoid people. She doesn't dare face anyone, for fear of what rejection she might face, especially because she now knows she deserves it. She doesn't deserve their help or their support. Not these people, not Zuko or Mai or Ty Lee or her uncle or her mother. And as she's going on like this, she sees some people one day, shivering in the cold, trying to light a fire and failing. She's also cold, so she lights a fire. But the fire in her hand is blue, like ice, too hot, too much. So, for once, she stops focusing on making her flames the hottest they can be. The flame in her hand cools down, and now it's a warm yellow glow. And then she actually feels warm, not just on the outside but in her heart as well. And she looks at these people, and she knows how they feel. She knows what she'd want someone to do for her if she were in their place. So, she lights their fire with a flick of her wrist. They don't see who she is, they don't even notice her. For all they know, they managed to light it themselves. But they look so happy, so content, so warm. Because of the fire. And she didn't even use it to fight. Her fire is helping people, making them happy. Maybe it's not just good for fighting.
Just like her.
She knows in her heart that this is what her mother would have wanted. Her mother who was right all along. So, she goes on doing this, secretly helping people. Lighting their fires, their torches. It's small, but it clearly means a lot to people on cold days and nights. And they never notice her. But she's surprised to find that she doesn't need or want the attention anymore. Just the fact that she helped makes her feel the warmth she thought respect and power would get her.
And so, she doesn't just help with her fire. She tries to learn new ways to help. She tries to learn how to treat wounds, especially burns. And she finds so much more fulfillment in this simple work than she ever did in plotting against her brother and planning to burn down the Earth Kingdom. And it's not even just because of her mother's words anymore. Her mother was right. This is something she wants. She still struggles sometimes with doubts about if she's wrong now, still struggles with feelings of resentment and anger towards the people she knows don't deserve it. She still feels small when she thinks about her father, about what he'd think if he saw her like this, even though she's realizing he doesn't matter. But she's getting better. She feels better than she's ever felt.
And then she ends up in Ba Sing Se, and then Zuko is there. With Iroh. And the Avatar and his friends. Zuko spots her. She runs. Zuko chases her. She didn't mean to run into him, but he's coming after her. Zuko confesses that he was worried about her, that he's been looking for her. And she's shocked that he would, even after everything. Because even now, she can still see the wariness in his eyes, the slight nervousness in his posture, the way his friends stand tall behind him, making less of an effort to look concerned, even though they don't look completely antagonistic.
So Azula does the one thing she's always been running from, something she knows she has to do but has never been able to. Admit to her mistakes. Apologize. She still wants to run, but Zuko is here, he's been looking for her, and he's worried about her. She would have felt, and a part of her still feels, anger towards Zuko, still blames him unfairly. But she's grown to recognize it for what it is. And so, she says to him I'm sorry, the first time she's said the words and truly meant it. He looks shocked, but then smiles, and says I forgive you.
But she can see he doesn't, not really. She can see now, how much he loves her, how much wants her to get better, how much he appreciates her sincere apology. How much he wants to forgive her. But she can still see the doubt, the pain and fear in his eyes that she caused. She can see the resentment and the hurt. She's not blind to it anymore. So she says, no you don't. And when he steps forward, tells her to stay, Azula, I don't want to lose you, she tells him that it's best for the both of them if she leaves. And maybe one day, she'll come back, when she's become better, enough to truly begin to make up for what she's done to him, and he can truly forgive her. And he smiles, and says good luck.
So Azula goes off to do more good things and learn to heal herself and find her worth, and then they meet and can actually be a decently stable family again. Or not, YMMV.
Thank you for your ask!
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Why Deny?
Part 13
Previous part here
**Warning: mentions/hintings of pregnancy termination/abortion**
…………………………………………………………………………….
~Flashback~
No. No. No, no, no, no, no.
It couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be happening.
Pregnant. She was pregnant.
How? HOW?
What good was a fucking IUD if it didn’t do what it was supposed to do?!
She’d bought the tests just as a precaution when she’d realized that she hadn’t yet had her usual spotting she had every month around this time. She’d been certain it was no big deal — sometimes the spotting with an IUD was extremely minimal — but she also wanted the added assurance of a negative test.
Now, taking a deep breath, Y/N braced her hands on her bathroom vanity as she tried to slow her heart rate. As she breathed, she tried to piece together any sort of timeline she could. Thinking back, she tried to remember the last time she’d had spotting. She scrunched her brow in concentration as she wracked her brain, and as she realized it had been at least six weeks since she’d had the need to use a pantiliner, she concluded with a new wave of panic that it could be true.
Reaching for the pregnancy tests sitting on the toilet tank, she grabbed another one from the box and ripped it open. Maybe the first one had been a false positive. But after three more tests, and a set of double lines staring back at her on each one, the finality started to set in.
Desperate for any other chance that it might be incorrect, Y/N grabbed her phone and called her gynecologist’s office. When was the last time she’d been there? she thought to herself tensely. Long enough ago that she didn’t even remember the brand name of the IUD she had, a piece of information she needed so that she could research how effective it was, the chance of false positives while having it, or whatever other statistic she already knew deep down she wouldn’t find. Upon speaking with the nurse, who told her the brand of IUD, she told Y/N that she needed to come in as soon as possible to have it removed. When Y/N asked why, the nurse explained that it wasn’t good to leave an expired IUD in for an extended period of time.
Expired. There was her answer.
“Isn’t it good for three years?” Y/N asked into the phone, her voice uncharacteristically high.
“It’s been three years...and six months,” the nurse replied to her. “It looks like you canceled the appointment that we set up for you to come in and have it replaced. The note here says you’d said you’d call back to reschedule, but we never heard from you.”
“Fuck,” Y/N said under her breath, then apologized through the phone as she heard the nurse ask her to repeat herself.
“Is there a chance you could be pregnant?” the nurse asked her. “If so, you’ll want to come in as soon as possible. Having an IUD in place while pregnant can be dangerous for you and the baby.”
Baby. Oh, God. How could this be happening? Well, actually, now she knew how.
Making an appointment for the next day, Y/N functioned on zoned-out autopilot for the rest of the day. She couldn’t bring herself to go to work, and she thanked the powers that be that Leonard was away that week, because there’d be no way she’d be able to hide from him that something was wrong – he’d know it the second he saw her.
Thinking of Leonard, Y/N immediately covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t imagine what he’d say, how he’d react, but she knew that this wasn’t any news he’d want to hear. Not only because he’d be furious that she’d been so forgetful and irresponsible as to let this happen, but, obviously, most of all, because she was certain a child was nothing that he’d want.
Yes, they’d had feelings for each other long before they finally started this relationship, but that didn’t mean they were at any point to even discuss how serious they were getting or where things were going, let alone the idea of having a child. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about it somewhere, someday, but she had no idea how things would unfold between them. Hell, she didn’t even know if Leonard liked kids or could one day want that with her. She had a hard time picturing him as anything other than what he was – his job was his identity. She almost laughed in spite of herself as she suddenly imagined him leaving an interrogation room and hanging up a gun holster to head to afternoon pickup at daycare. The idea was almost ludicrous, at least at this point in time.
She honestly didn’t know how she felt, either. Of course, the initial reaction was to just get rid of the problem, but she had always wanted a child, someday. However, this obviously was not the ideal situation in the slightest, and she was having a difficult time wrapping her head around the idea of even being pregnant, let alone the fact that it would result in a baby in 9 months. She was neither mentally or physically prepared.
At the same time, she was already in her thirties, and hell, if someone had to be the father, it being Leonard meant one heck of a gene pool. And again, it was something she’d imagined with him possibly one day. Truthfully, her feelings for him were deeper than she’d even admitted to herself yet, and the thought of having his baby was, while shocking, also incredibly pleasing.
But for all she knew, he’d end things the minute he found out. Yes, she knew he cared for her, but he didn’t sign up for this, and it was still so early in their relationship. And even if he was ok with it, if she kept the baby and then things didn’t work out, how could they ever recover? She couldn’t bear the thought of Leonard hating her, and then also projecting that hatred onto their child.
Her mind was an absolute jumble of uncertainty and questions, but when they confirmed the pregnancy at her appointment the next day, she knew she had to make a decision soon. As she laid in bed that night, she knew she had to tell Leonard, regardless of what she decided to do. If she ended it and didn’t tell him, she was certain he’d somehow inevitably find out, and then he might never trust her again. And if she kept it, well, it’s not like there would be any other explanation for why she was suddenly pregnant.
Unconsciously laying her palm over her stomach, Y/N looked up at the ceiling, thinking how unbelievable it was that her life could have so drastically changed in only a matter of hours.
@nyxxie-pooh @febris-amatoria @natalie--rushman @xsweetcatastrophe @hannibellector
@devotedlyshadowytheorist @aphroditeslover11 @garrison-girl-08 @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree
@fuseburner @neonpurplestars89-blog
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Ok, I really need to try my hand at this
YOU: With a bright green flash, the antediluvian servers of Automattic memorised your newest piece of miscellaneous Total Decay illustration.
TRIVIA [Trivial: Success]: "Dahn Sinkewicz and Total Decay" is the book you've been writing, with inconsistent success, for the past 7 months.
TORTURED ARTIST [Easy: Success]: Do you think he could just *forget* about his upcoming nearly-finished magical-realist, new-sincerity, Columbo-meets-Boris-goddamn-Yeltsin detective masterpiece?
DECONSTRUCTION [Medium: Success]: Will it become less derivative if you add more compound adjectives? Also, I don't think "magical-realist" should be hyphenated.
BLACK MIRROR OF PRE-APOCALYPTIC POST-TRUTH: Time is dripping from the ceiling, it's drops making monotone clicking sounds. No living soul has observed your art yet. Or, at least, did not feel anything at all in the process.
1. "What am I doing wrong? I checked all the boxes!"
2. [Delete your Tumblr account immediately.]
YOU: [Delete your Tumblr account immediately.]
BLACK MIRROR OF PRE-APOCALYPTIC POST-TRUTH: You will not leave this place. You have one too many *mutuals*.
1. "What am I doing wrong? I checked all the boxes!"
YOU: What am I doing wrong? I checked all the boxes!
BOX-FITTING [Easy: Success] You even posted it at the correct *time window*!
TRIVIA [Medium: Failure] Don't fret, towarisch, this lack of activity is easily explained by... Sorry, I'll sit this one out.
DECONSTRUCTION [Hard: Success]: Maybe we could look at it from an artistic perspective?
TORTURED ARTIST: What are you implying? It's awesome! Atleast, it is certainly better than some *creations* you see on here occasionally...
EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] SHUT UP, FOR REAL. Do I need to refer you to the sign?
+5 XP gained from thought "Never Be Mean"
NERD-JOCK TRANSUBSTANTIATION [Legendary: Success]: You're obviously just not cut for this liberal arts nonsense, bratan! You have gym practice this Wednesday, remember? Your only goal is *the grind*, so show them you don't care about online recognition!
1. [Attempt to throw a tantrum.]
1. [Attempt to throw a tantrum.]
NODE COORDINATION [Impossible: Failure]: The neural pathway previously used for rapid mental mobilisation has dissipated under pressure from punitive education practices and liberal consumption of inhibitory neurotransmitters. I am sorry.
NERD-JOCK TRANSUBSTANTIATION [Hard: Success] Is that yarn-head trying to say that you can't *get angry* anymore?
HOMEOSTASIS: I'm clicking all the right buttons, yet nothing is happening. So yes, our capability for strong emotions has largely atrophied.
NERD-JOCK TRANSUBSTANTIATION [Impossible: Failure]: Wow, that... sucks, bratan. We will have to work around this in the future, I guess...
BLACK MIRROR OF PRE-APOCALYPTIC POST-TRUTH: The obsidian obelisk shudders, emitting a familiar glow: a new notification from Tumblr.
BLACK MIRROR OF PRE-APOCALYPTIC POST-TRUTH: Let's see: your mutual liked your post...
TORTURED ARTIST [Easy: Success] Where did I put my corkscrew?
DECONSTRUCTION [Medium: Success] I wouldn't be so optimistic.
BLACK MIRROR OF PRE-APOCALYPTIC POST-TRUTH: It's a... *funny-haha* post you reblogged an hour ago.
EMPATHY [Hard: Failure]: It seems as if we are the only unpopular person here.
TRIVIA [Trivial: Success]: That is a mathematical impossibility.
1. [Try again to come up with a reasonable explanation for why the notes under your art never exceed single digits.]
2. "You know, this just makes me more convinced that social networks are an instrument of isolation, not connection." [Send the art to that one guy on Discord who seems to like it.]
2. "You know, this just makes me more convinced that social networks are an instrument of isolation, not connection." [Send the art to that one guy on Discord who seems to like it.]
DIGITAL SPECTRE OF A FRIEND OF A FRIEND: It takes the man you only know from a vestigial meme server a couple seconds to look at the image you've sent to him. He finally answers...
DIGITAL SPECTRE OF A FRIEND OF A FRIEND: "Hey, that is pretty nice! I am always blown away by the depth of your worldbuilding!"
MORALE HEALED +1
EMPATHY [Medium: Success]: Okay, at least this guy likes us.
DECONSTRUCTION [Easy: Success] This veritably shows that our art is not *bad*, so something else must be going on here.
NERD-JOCK TRANSUBSTANTIATION [Medium: Success]: Hey, this bro is *real*!
NOISE SUPPRESSION [Easy: Success]: Everything inside you feels lighter, *validated*, somehow.
1. [Excitedly jump out of your bed.]
2. [Output a highly memetic sound of deep satisfaction.]
1. [Excitedly jump out of your bed.]
EXPLOSIVE POWER [Formidable: Failure]: Your brain sends out a clear signal, but your sore muscles don't move a millimeter.
HOMEOSTASIS: Sorry, boss, not happening. We should've had more that one meal today if we wanted to perform entrance-level acrobatic tricks like that.
2. [Output a highly memetic sound of deep satisfaction.]
2. [Output a highly memetic sound of deep satisfaction.]
NOMINALIZATION [Trivial: Success]: I know a couple good ones, *bestie*. Would look really *-core* on your *moodboard*, or whatever.
YOU: "Yipee!", you say, "Wahoo!", you whimper.
UNDIAGNOSED MENTAL ILLNESS (AKA "THE TUTORIAL"): This feedback cycle has officially concluded. You must create more art to feel satisfaction again.
HOMEOSTASIS [Trivial: Success]: Can we go to sleep now? Tomorrow is gonna be hell by all margins...
BLACK MIRROR OF PRE-APOCALYPTIC POST-TRUTH: Hey, you can't go! You'll miss so much stuff you won't care about!
1. "You're right, my beloved obelisk!" [Keep scrolling for 4 more hours, completely ruining your following week.]
2. "Sorry, *siliconstie*, but I really need to go." [Finally go to sleep.]
2. "Sorry, *siliconstie*, but I really need to go." [Finally go to sleep.]
Thought gained: The Ovine Enumerator
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Every other aspect of Jesse’s trauma makes me go oh no poor blorbo :( but his relationship w his parents and thinking ab it in the context of the series aftermath actually makes me unwell… they never even knew him they only ever saw the worst in him and now they’ve had that validated by his own actions and they’ll never know how sorry he is and that he was a good kid at heart and they didn’t imagine it and they still love him but how can they have loved him if they never even knew him and only ever saw the worst in him *flatlines*
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Got tagged by @notallsandmen for a WIP paragraph game, and I’m incredibly flattered, considering ... this doesn’t feel on the level of fic, this is fun little sketches of dialogue at most. But this is what I had, so here’s more of the mortal dreamling silliness (previous bits: modern day mortal dreamling and newlyweds with ravens)
How Hob asked Johanna to be his witness for his wedding:
He texted her asking if she was free that afternoon, because he needed her for something. Historically "something" has meant anything from "taste-testing 3 different scone recipe variations to figure out the best one" to "hustling drunk pricks at darts". Likewise, Hob has done her favors ranging from picking up tampons to providing an alibi. In theory there is a ledger of favors owed, but in reality there will never be a balancing of books (because they're best friends, even if Johanna is too prickly to admit it and Hob is too smart to).
Johanna texted back "yeah, what's up?", and practically broke a land speed record pressing "Call" when she got the response.
Johanna: what the fuck kind of text exchange is confirming I'm around and then sending "getting married today, hello, witness!" and a selfie of you and some goth twink?
Hob: it felt pretty self-explanatory
Johanna: last I'd checked, you weren't even seeing anybody!
Hob: things change?
Johanna: I got dinner with you 5 weeks ago, you bastard, and you were single then.
Hob: ... things change fast?
Johanna: how the fuck did you even meet him?
Hob: I was running back from class during that awful rainstorm last month, and he was just outside my tube station.
Johanna: Hob.
Hob: His umbrella'd broken and he was soaking wet, and he looked absolutely miserable, poor darling.
Johanna: ...
Hob: So I offered him towels and dry clothes, since my flat was just up the road. And by the time the rain stopped I knew I wanted to marry him, and he said yes.
Johanna: what lunatic just follows strange men home?
Hob: he was pretty suspicious until I gave him my phone so he could text my address to his sister.
Johanna: and she was somehow fine with it, like 'yeah, go on'?
Hob:
Hob: he got a bit distracted by my phone background and never actually texted her.
Johanna: the fuck
Hob: you know Julian of Norwich is gorgeous
Johanna: your cat is a lesser demon escaped from hell. I'm going to exorcise your cat someday
Hob: Jules is a sweetheart. She doesn't even hunt birds!
Johanna: That thing won't kill any of the bloody birds in your neighborhood because she's saving all her energy to someday murder me and you know it.
Hob: ... undeserved paranoia about my extremely photogenic cat aside --
Johanna: WELL-deserved!
Hob: --will you be my witness?
Johanna: Left it a bit late, if you're asking me today. Did everybody else say no?
Hob: Didn't ask anybody else. Been planning to ask you since Dream said yes, but I figured if I gave you too much notice you'd flee the country.
Johanna: [tearing up, because even if you're an independent badass, it's nice to hear you're somebody's person] you're fucking right I would.
(Johanna's custom ringtone on Hob's phone is from Sweeney Todd, the final verse in Johanna where you can hear the body drop ("Wake up, Johanna, another bright red day"), because Hob and Johanna are black-hearted bastards/absolutely in cahoots with each other and think it’s funny. Hob's ringtone is Being Alive from Company ("Somebody need me too much..."). Sondheim all the way, motherfuckers)
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I rly don’t see how ppl be 20+ shipping kids anymore tbh… like, it’s so rampant and I don’t see the appeal to it anymore being as tho I’m in my late 20’s.
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