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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

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emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

You Never Notice

Sykkuno x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Summary: The center of someone’s world is never aware of their importance even when everyone else is in the know. People are hard to understand, no denying, but if we all spilled our truth like how Y/N admitted her feelings to Sykkuno, mutual understanding would be achieved a lot more easily. JK, she needed an eternity and maybe a thousand pushes. What’s important is the result though, right?

Requested by Anon. You are my first Sykkuno request and I wish I could thank you with a tag. Instead, I’m gonna thank you with a fic in which I put my all. Thank you for the request, hope the final product doesn’t let you down. 🥰

Here we go again. Sykkuno’s love life is brought up. This time it’s more frustrating cause I can’t shout how wrong he is about himself and the effect he has on the people around him. He has no room to speak, he hasn’t experienced what I have - one of your best friends living in your head rent-free because you’re just that whipped by them. That’s right kids, some of us never grow past the middle school crushes - they are a constant for some. That can be a good or a bad thing, it completely depends on how you view it.

Currently, him and Rae are addressing some dating rumors that started spreading about them earlier this week while Felix, Sean and I are kicking each other’s butts in Party Animals. We’re not all playing together, actually, we were all playing different games when we hopped into the call and just grouped together after playing solo got boring. Rae and Sykkuno are playing Among Us on a random server, her being the only person who’s streaming right now. She said she just wanted to clear up the dating rumors cause they were annoying to see popping up on her feed on every social media platform she’s active on.

“It’s ridiculous, really. People just look for online personalities to put in imaginary relationships. Are they that bored? I know quarantine is getting to everyone, but damn“ Rae says, laughing a bit to take the edge off her words but I know she’s bothered by this ordeal more than she’s letting on. I know how much it bothers her when people ship random youtubers and streamers together, even when she’s not involved.

And I agree. Ever since I started streaming I’ve been shipped with my friends left and right. First Corpse, then Dave, Joel...you name them. It gets kinda gross cause these people are legit like siblings to me. Unlike Rae, though, I don’t waste my breath trying to clear those ‘talks of the net’ up. I don’t know if it’s for better of for worse that I remain silent on the issue when I’m involved but am willing to stand up for my friends when they find themselves in a similar situation. Some people think the reason I don’t share my thoughts is because the rumors are true, but the hint is most often taken, resulting in the ship ending. Well, that ship ending, there’s always a new one popping up. As Rae said, it’s ridiculous.

“Why does everyone think I am ever dating anyone? I’ve already commented on this: no one would date me.“ Sykkuno says through a sigh-like laugh.

“Why are you so sure?“ I blurt out without as much as a second thought

My eyes widen just a bit, just a bit. I’m not too surprised with myself. I am slowly losing control of my raging emotions and I’m afraid of what I’ll turn into when all my restraints snap. A mess, that’s the most likely answer.

“Well....“ Sykkuno trails off, clearly more than a little nervous, “I don’t have a girlfriend right now, and I haven’t had one in a while...Nor has a girl shown any interest to be more than friends with me in what feels like forever.“

“I’m sure you just don’t notice the hints girls drop. We can be pretty subtle.“ I try to sound as nonchalant as possible while I’m still in my panicked animal mode. And by animal I mean a cub. A scared cub that is now showing confidence but will run and hide right afterwards. I silently thank the universe that I’m not streaming right now. I can feel the heat on my neck and cheeks which is pure embarrassment and would have been more than evident on-camera.

“Yeah Y/N’s right, Sykkuno. Girls can be very subtle, but they will always let you know if they like you, even through the smallest of gestures. You gotta keep your eyes open.“ Rae backs me up reassuringly.

“Guys never notice anything.“ I say, rolling my eyes. I feel the pressure lessen thanks to Rae’s involvement in the conversation.

“That’s not true.“ Sean protests, “We pay close attention, especially to girls we are attracted to.“

“Yeah!“ Sykkuno pipes in again, “I’m pretty sure I would notice if a girl was dropping signals that she likes me.“

Now that stings. That legit makes me wince and cringe as though his voice delivered an actual physical hit to my chest and stomach. It’s really unpleasant, painful even.

“You never notice.“ There’s something about this triple opportunity - proving him wrong that he’d catch onto a girl’s signals; proving him wrong that girls aren’t attracted to him; coming clean about the biggest emotional struggle I’ve experienced in recent years; - that snaps my last emotional restraints. I will totally regret this later, but after the regret comes the relief which is 100% worth it.

“What?“ He sounds very puzzled. I can just about imagine him frowning as he tries to wrap his brain around something even I can’t wrap mine around.

“You say you’d notice a girl’s hints of attraction. OK.“ I nonchalantly throw Felix off the submarine in Party Animals while I keep talking, “Would you notice if a girl purposely doesn’t kill you in Among Us when she’s impostor? Or would you notice that a girl always sends you links to videos she finds funny? Or that she always shares music and movie recommendations with you and you only?“

Dead silence ensues. I feel like they have all glitched, considering Sean didn’t even try to put up a fight when I lifted him and threw him in the ocean as I previously did with Felix’s avatar.

Maybe I was a tad too specific and made the whole situation hit a little too close to home for me.

Sykkuno and I have become really close friends and we chat and play games regularly. As I mentioned, I give him movie and music recommendations and I only recently started acknowledging the fact that I’ve never killed him in Among Us. Natural instinct I guess. In fact, I feel the need for vengeance when he’s killed. I refuse to even vote for him unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Now that I think about it, it’s not his fault he has no clue. I just don’t know how to properly drop hints.

“Um...I mean, I guess I would notice but I’d never think they are that type of hints.“ He finally replies.

On point there, dear. On damn point.

“What does it take for you to be convinced that a girl is into you?“ Who cares that a bunch of people are about to witness this outpour? It’ll make it more real, yes, but it will also help me believe that it happened so I don’t try to crawl back to the point where return is an option. No return now. You’ve already passed two thirds of the way. The last one will set you and your mind free.

“The only way I can be sure is if she tells me, really.“ He sounds so nervous and shy, like he’s trying to draw as little attention as possible.

He doesn’t have to worry. I’m about to pull all the attention on me.

“Well in that case....you leave me no other choice.“ My screen displays me as the winner of this round of Party Animals - an easy one considering my friends are glitched in real life. “I like you, Sykkuno. I like you a lot. And I know you will see it from every context except the one its meant to be in so I’ll be even more head-on - I’ve liked you, as more than a friend for quite some time now, but buddy, you can be sooo oblivious sometimes. Anyway...“ Here’s that regret I was talking about, it’s already creeping in. “Don’t feel the need to say it back. I don’t wanna hear it if you don’t mean it. And Rae,“ I can’t help but laugh at the thought, “Sorry for making your chat go crazy. Peace!“

And I disconnect from the Discord call.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?“ I say out loud, staring at my desktop. “The cat’s out of the bag and you can move on now.“

I push myself to get some work done in order to get my mind off the mess I’ve created. I’m afraid of thinking about it, I know I’ll get too upset to do anything with the rest of my day if I do.

Suddenly, just as I’m about to open my email, my phone chimes. My brain doesn’t bother to stop my arm from automatically reaching out and checking the notification. A message.

From Sykkuno.

~ I knew you didn’t suggest me ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ for no reason

Me ~ So...?

~ So, I’m not the only oblivious one here, Y/N

Me ~ Wait WHAT?

~ ‘Nick And Norah’s Infinite Playlist’?

Me ~ Oooohhhh...I see

It takes him a few seconds to reply, the bubble with the three bouncing dots popping up and disappearing a few times now. I just now feel my heart banging against the inside of my ribcage, my pulse echoing in my ears.

He did seem a little too eager for me to watch that movie...

~ So, movie date?

I laugh, wholeheartedly and honestly. Genuine joy running through my veins.

Me ~ So it is.

The grin that is now decorating my features promises to stay there for the rest of the day. I bite my bottom lip at the thought that pops into my head.

Me ~ Phew, I can stop sparing you in Among Us from now on

He sends me three cry-laughing emojis in return, but I don’t need those. I can just imagine him laughing as he usually does with one hand covering his mouth. And here I thought my grin couldn’t grow wider.

Imagining him happy makes me smile. His happiness makes me happy. He makes me happy.

Even better...

I think the feeling’s mutual.

#sykkuno #sykkuno fanfic #sykkuno fanfiction #sykkuno x reader #sykkuno x y/n #x reader #reader #reader insert #x y/n #y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #among us #requests open #requests #fluff #love #crush #happy

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singtotheskiies · 3 years

Text

to the rescue // teen! ben hargreeves x reader

summary: when it’s your turn to be parenting experiment of the week, ben decides to take matters into his own hands—or, rather, tentacles.

request (by a lovely lovely anon💕): Hi I adore your writing❤️. Can you do a Ben Hargreeves x reader where the reader is restrained in a cell by Reginald and Ben comes and saves the day. Thx

words: 1893

warnings: emotional manipulation (it’s prick of the year reginald hargreeves, what do we expect), imprisonment

a/n: i feel like this one is right shit bc i wasn’t in a really good groove while writing it but ANYWAY please enjoy our bb boy:))))) (also!! empath!reader)

✖️✖️✖️

Dad stands in your doorway, intimidating as always, light glinting off his ever-present monocle. “Number Eight,” he says—crisp, harsh, and clear. “Come with me. Today we have a different form of training for you.”

“Where are we going?” you ask him. He’s not leading you towards the usual training room, and you’re without a partner—something you’ve never trained without due to your empathic abilities.

“Never you mind,” he says bluntly. You sigh, looking down at your feet. Trying to get information out of Dad is unnecessarily difficult sometimes—and you can’t read him as easily as you can your siblings. He’s scarily good at hiding his emotions.

He leads you down a few corridors before pausing and taking a blindfold out of his coat pocket. “Turn around.”

“Why? Where are we going?” You’re a bit worried now. “Turn around, Number Eight,” he repeats, harsher this time. “I do not have time for your questions.” You’ve got no choice, so you do as he says. The blindfold is tight—a bit too much so, but you know it’s pointless to bring it up. The two of you walk in silence for several minutes—you don’t think you’ve left the house, but your steps haven’t followed a route you’re familiar with. The Academy is big, though—maybe you’ve misjudged and you’re really just being led in circles to confuse you. Dad’s voice cuts through your thoughts, telling you to watch your step. You carefully move into some sort of space, confused as to why you’ve stopped. His hands come up to the nape of your neck, untying the blindfold from around your eyes. The fabric drops away to reveal a dark, metallic room with no furnishings. You’ve never seen it before or heard Dad talk about it—it almost looks like some sort of prison, and anxiety begins to push up into your chest. “Uh, Dad? Where are we?” you ask, fear making its way into your voice. You silently curse yourself for it—Dad hates any display of weakness. He doesn’t answer, instead busying himself with a huge hydraulic lock on the outside of the door. This does nothing to help your growing panic. “Dad?” you ask a few more times, voice rising with each repetition. “Dad!” “You will stay here until I let you out.” He finally answers, still not looking at you. “Goodbye, Number Eight.” He steps out of the chamber, locks hissing as the door seals itself behind him. Your brain enters full-blown panic, and you bang on the door, screaming for him to come back. You no longer care about showing weakness—tears spill over your cheeks as Dad’s back fades away and your banging grows weaker and weaker. When your voice gets too hoarse to yell and you’re convinced no one can hear you, you sink to the ground in a miserable heap. After a few minutes of crying, you sit up weakly and attempt to clear your head. You’ve never seen this chamber or the hallway it’s situated in before, but it logically has to be within the Academy somewhere. Maybe it’s underground or in a wing you’ve never been allowed access to? You instinctively close your eyes, reaching out to see if you can pick up on anyone’s emotions. Usually, you can sense your siblings from across the house, but the impenetrable walls of your cell and your admittedly less-than-functional mental state don’t help your case. You give up after a few minutes of mental searching and rest your forehead against the cold metal of one of the walls. And, since you have literally nothing else to do, you think. Clearly, this is one of Dad’s experiments—probably not too far off from when he’d lock Klaus in the mausoleum or when he’d throw dangerous weapons at Diego to see if he could save himself. They historically haven’t gone so well, as both siblings have ended up scarred—Klaus emotionally and Diego physically. You’re a bit worried as to what he has in store for you, but you’re not about to let yourself get hurt if you can help it. It’s likely that Dad’s locked you up to see how your abilities react to not being around people and their constantly-changing emotions. Maybe he thinks you’ll wither away. Perhaps it’s the opposite, and he’s examining the possibility of you tapping into your own feelings. Whatever the case may be, you resolve to try and remain as positive as you can about the situation, so you push down your fear and focus on happier things. Inevitably, almost embarrassingly, your thoughts roam to Ben. He’s the quietest of your siblings, always nose-deep in a book or sitting in silent contemplation. Despite his antisocial nature, the two of you have formed a close bond over the years. You find the contrast of his visceral power with his shy nature interesting, and he’s been perfectly content to sit and listen to you babble away about everything and nothing.

There’s also the fact that the two of you usually get paired together for training, since you can’t read him as easily as you can your other siblings. Dad says it’s likely because of the alien presence underneath his skin—the tendrils block his human presence somehow. And so, to create the biggest challenge for you, Dad’s made you spend hours on end with Ben, studying what feelings you can discern in order to strengthen your abilities. While some would become frustrated by the lack of ease you’ve experienced, it only eggs you on. You find Ben absolutely fascinating—a feeling that’s deepened over the years until you’ve come to accept the fact that you’re crushing on him, hard. Despite wearing your heart on your sleeve at all times, you’ve desperately tried to keep your feelings hidden—you can’t have any way of knowing if he returns those feelings, and your embarrassment would be supreme if he found out and didn’t feel the same.

Your cheeks heat up as your mind drifts to his jet-black hair, fine features, and adorably shy nature. There’s nothing better to do, so you let your mind spin scenarios of the two of you together—holding hands, going on small dates, cuddling on the couch. The thoughts stir a fluttering warmth in your chest that makes your present circumstances slightly more bearable. You hardly notice your breaths evening out and your eyelids blinking slower and slower as you daydream away.

You start awake an indeterminate amount of time later. You can’t remember falling asleep, and you have absolutely no way of knowing how much time has passed since Dad locked you up. Your crooked perception of time pales, however, to your all-consuming thirst. There’s no compartments or nooks anywhere that could be hiding a water supply—just smooth metal walls. Sinking back against the door, you try your hardest not to think about the dryness in your throat crying out to be lessened.

You judge it to be a few hours later when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. Instantly, you sit up, hoping it’s Dad come to let you free—but what you see instead is a million times better.

Ben’s sprinting down the hallway leading to your cell, face overtaken with concern. When he gets close enough to see you, he visibly softens. He tries to say something, but the thick hydraulic door blurs his words together. You shrug, pointing to your ears and shaking your head. He tries again, pointing to you with questioning eyes. You okay?

You nod, secretly thinking yes, now that you’re here. His brows are still knit together with worry, so you smile to reassure him that you really are okay. His eyes roam over your face for a few moments before he blinks and takes a step back, motioning for you to do the same. You’re not sure what he’s going to do, but you trust him completely.

He doubles down on himself before flailing his limbs out and arching his back. His tentacles erupt out of his stomach, lashing out and latching onto the huge handle of your cell door. The metal and glass shriek at the new pressure before slowly but surely bending from the force of Ben’s attack. When they’re broken enough to satisfy him, his tentacles retract and he scrambles forward to open the door separating the two of you.

As soon as you can slip through the door, you rush into his arms, wrapping him in a fierce hug. He hesitates for the briefest moment before returning the embrace. After being by yourself for so long, his arms feel so good around you, and your heart leaps in your chest as you catch a whiff of his smell—comforting and exciting all at once. Even though you could stay right here in his arms forever, you pull away slightly after several moments.

“How’d you know I was here?” you ask, grinning at the look of relief on Ben’s face.

“I thought it was weird when Dad didn’t schedule me to train with you like we usually would. No one knew where you went, so after a few hours, I decided to try and find you. Earlier I saw Dad coming out of a doorway I’d never seen anyone use before, so I used that as my starting place and, well—he’s got a bunch of charts monitoring how you’re doing. I knew I was in the right place. I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says, voice getting quieter. “I was really worried.”

“We’ve been through worse,” you laugh, but his eyes don’t brighten at your joke.

“This is different, though,” he answers, voice rising again in anger. “He literally locked you up, I mean—that’s actually insane. No father should ever do that to their child.”

“I’m sure he means well,” you say weakly, but you both know it’s not true. Dad really only cares about himself. There’s a beat, then Ben speaks again.

“You sure you’re all right?” His eyes are sad and searching as they look into yours.

Summoning your courage, you say, “I am now that you’re here.” Ben’s eyes widen immediately, scanning your face almost hopefully. The corners of his mouth tilt up slowly, almost hesitantly—as if he’s afraid to let himself go completely.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t,” he breathes, and you notice that the distance between the two of you is narrowing. Just a few more inches and your foreheads would be touching—and so you take it upon yourself to both reassure and thank Ben in one motion. You tilt your head forward and gently press your lips to his.

His breath hitches at the contact, body freezing for the briefest of moments before his hands come up to cup your jaw. You smile and whisper a thank you against his lips before drawing back a fraction. Ben’s eyes are slow to open, and his cheeks are flushed when they finally do, gazing at you with so much half-lidded admiration your heart swells. You press a soft kiss to his cheek, and you don��t need your powers to tell you that somehow, Ben is just as smitten with you as you are with him.

And when the two of you are given an inevitable harsh scolding in Dad’s office, you can’t bring yourself to care much—you’re too focused on how Ben’s fingers are laced gently around yours.

#ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy imagine #justin h min #justin h min x reader #justin h min imagine #fanfic #x reader #reader insert

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your-world-with-nct · 3 years

Text

— @doyoungcore ty for the inspiration for this post joyce 🥺 consider this a very belated bday present hehe (also apologies for the late post, i hope this longer blurb makes up for it 🙈)

💌 • 4:56pm

browsing the clothing racks for items that caught your eye, you sighed as you checked the price tag of the pair of jeans you’d been considering getting for a while, groaning at the fact that it hadn’t gone on sale yet.

you dragged your feet to the next aisle, looking down at your worn-out sneakers and heading for the shoe section instead, immediately spotting some reasonably-priced stylish boots along with your favourite shoe brand’s name splashed above the display.

“hey, excuse me, hi, do you have a minute?” you would be lying if you said that the man standing in front of you panting and swiping at his forehead wasn’t the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes on, your throat drying up at his unbelievable looks.

“oh, me? yeah, i have a minute, are you okay?” you questioned why this man who could pass off as a model was acting as desperate as those people in the town centre who passed out flyers that nobody ever paid attention too, pausing to take in his breathtaking physique.

“i’m so sorry to bother you, but my name is doyoung, and my ex is here with her new boyfriend. i was wondering if you could just pose as my partner for a bit, y’know, until she’s gone,” stranger!doyoung nervously smiled at you, his eyes flitting all over as, you assumed, he was searching for his ex, “if i’m interrupting your shopping, i-i’ll go but, i, i just don’t wanna look pathetic in front of her.”

the request shocked you, but there was a small voice in your head that wanted to go along with it. not only because you felt sorry for doyoung and you didn’t want him to embarrass himself in front of his ex, but also the fact this gorgeous boy thought that you were believable enough to be, well, in his league and dating him, inflated your ego and you had to repay him for doing wonders with your confidence.

“no, no, that’s fine, doyoung! i’m y/n, by the way, and don’t worry, you’re not really interrupting anything,” you grinned at him, trying not to scream when an adorable gummy smile appeared on his face, “just do what you need to do, i’ll go with it.”

contrary to your statement, you couldn’t hide the shock on your face when doyoung went straight for your hand and interlocked your fingers, leading you to those shoes you’d been eyeing, while gazing at you with his twilight orbs, “how about those, babe? i remember you saying you needed more shoes to go with those pants you bought last week.”

considering how jittery doyoung was when he approached you, you were beyond amazed by how easily he transformed into an endearing ‘boyfriend’, helping you reach shoes on higher shelves and asking employees for your size, all whilst making light-hearted conversation with you and calling you the cutest nicknames.

within a few minutes, you were immersed in your role, completely embracing doyoung’s kindness, and even forgetting that it was all an act at times, especially when he tidied away the shoes you didn’t want and wordlessly handed your sneakers back to you, as if it was his silent way of showing affection.

except… it wasn’t; he was just trying to save himself from embarrassment and it meant absolutely nothing to him, whilst, you, on the other hand, basked in the undeserved attention he gave you. the feeling of being cared for was so unfamiliar to you that the slightest acts of service from a handsome stranger had you melting.

it had been almost ten minutes since you were parading around as doyoung’s lover, yet you still hadn’t seen his dreaded ex nor her new boyfriend. seeing as he was currently too focused on picking out his own shoes, you examined the adjacent aisles, looking in all directions just to find that there was quite literally no other couple in sight. either his ex had already left the store, or doyoung was the smoothest man you had ever met.

the new discovery had your brain running at a hundred miles per hour, eventually deciding to keep playing along with doyoung’s little game, you know, have a little fun before you went back to being single and lonely.

“hey, doie, not to alarm you, but i see a couple on their way over here,” you whispered in his ear, coming up behind him as he was returning a shoe box to its rightful place on the shelf, “is that your ex over there?”

doyoung didn’t know if it was your statement or the close proximity that had his heart racing, clearing his throat in an attempt to soothe his erratic pulse, “oh, is it? i-i don’t wanna risk checking though, let’s just–”

taking a page out of the romcom protagonist book, you smirked as you stepped closer to the blushing boy, forcing him to take a step backward against a wall of branded trainers, cocking your eyebrow when you noticed the coral shade spreading across his face, “let’s just stay like this for a bit, i’m sure she’ll hate seeing her ex like this with someone else, huh?”

the confidence oozing out of you had doyoung in mental shambles - when he tried the elaborate pick-up ploy on an unsuspecting you, he didn’t think it would go this well, and now he felt obliged to tell you the truth, although that would mean he was risking rejection and, judging from what he learned about your personality in the past fifteen minutes, possibly an emotional response.

however, it occurred to him that, if he played his cards right, he could walk away today with your number, and a date at the cafè his best friend owned, all he had to do was not to react, which was proving a difficult task right now as he felt your hand on his waist and your breath ghosting on his collarbone.

“okay, okay, fine, there is no ex!” doyoung blurted out, not being able to last any longer with your intense gaze on him, “i-i made it up as an excuse to try and talk to you because, well…”

“because what?” you sat down on one of the small sofas to give doyoung some space, scattered with abandoned shoes that had no pair.

your nonchalant reaction had him furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, brushing off his bewilderment to answer your question, “i just, i thought you were really pretty and i wanted to talk to you. how was i supposed to know you would go along with, all that, so quickly and easily?”

doyoung couldn’t explain the relief he felt when you began giggling, as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“it was easy enough to pretend, when you’re probably the most likeable person i’ve ever met,” you chuckled, the shyness from before evaporating the longer you stared at doyoung’s beauty, “since you basically tricked me into hanging out with you, how about we actually go do something? y’know, where you don’t have lie to me about what we’re doing?”

“wait, really?” doyoung’s eyes widened, surprised that you still wanted anything to do with him.

“yes, now, let me pay for these and we can head to your friend’s cafè down the road. unless that was a lie too?” you both broke out into wide grins, as you took his hand and led him to the counter, whilst he balanced your purchases in his arms.

you couldn’t explain where that courage cane from, nor why a mere twenty minutes with a stranger made you feel more content than ever; but meeting doyoung was like listening to a song for the first time and immediately knowing it would be your favourite.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Enough, Always: Izzy

CW: Newly adult child of whumper and whumpee, whumper in prison, references to romantic/intimate whump, referenced child emotional abuse, verbal abuse, brief gendered appearance insults with single line of brief homophobia at end, plus final crowning moment of badass for Izzy.

Izzy’s mother Savannah Marcoset has been locked in prison on a life sentence without parole for eleven years for abducting Izzy’s father Jax, keeping him captive, and forcing him into a horrifying facsimile of domestic bliss - and Izzy last saw her in person fourteen years ago, when her father escaped with her and her infant brother in one desperate final bid for freedom.

Newly eighteen and feeling the need for some kind of closure in one of the foundational aspects of her identity, Izzy decides to visit America - and pay a visit to her incarcerated mother.

During the visit, she learns that Savvie Marcoset, in the end, couldn’t change - but Izzy fucking Gallagher did.

For the first time with her mother, Izzy finds her voice.

Jax Gallagher (referenced) belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

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“Is this how you dress now?” Her mother’s voice is sharp-edged and still familiar, even fourteen years since Izzy last spoke to her face to face. It’s funny, how she barely remembered it, but as soon as she hears it, her heart starts to race, and it’s the feeling of her heart beating wings inside her chest. It’s the way other people might remember the sense of a warm hand to forehead, checking for illness, or laughter, or praise.

It’s a voice like a fever, a rush of chill down her spine and through her arms and thighs. Is it familiar from real memories, or because Izzy has heard it in interviews and documentaries and recordings, during her nights spent researching the woman who makes up half her genetics and absolutely none of her life?

She almost gets up and leaves right then.

Almost.

But Izzy Gallagher fought for this trip, had declared herself able and willing to do this, had more importantly convinced her father she needed to do this. She can’t just give up because it didn’t start well.

Even if he wouldn’t judge her, or at least he wouldn’t show it, Izzy Gallagher sets her shoulders and declares herself her father’s stubborn strong daughter, and not her mother’s weak and frightened one.

She steels herself against the instinctive uncertainty, the rush of anxious shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have tried. Instead, she gives her mother a faint smile as a plastic-and-metal chair is pulled out and she sits down across the small round table, just enough space there isn’t any danger of accidental - or, hopefully, purposeful - touch.

The walls are beige, the top of the table is a wood so pale it might as well be. There are bars on the window that lets in a pale and faded winter sun. There are some others, nearby, people younger or older than she sitting at other round tables, seeing mothers, wives, aunts, sisters. Izzy wonders if all of them are scared, or if none of them are. If it’s only her who has to remember how to breathe, in her mother’s presence.

She can do this. She told him she could do this.

“Um.” Izzy looks down at herself - just a band shirt and faded jeans worn with holes, her still-knobby knees showing through, the boots a birthday gift from Nana she’d thought would help her crunch through the grayish snow in the parking lot, a light hooded sweater over it all - and then up again. Her mother’s eyes are still wide-set in her face, which is less rounded as time has passed.

Those eyes are still overbright, and very blue.

It’s been so long since Savannah Marcoset saw her eldest child, and Izzy can’t ever remember having been the focus of her mother’s all-consuming interest before. It feels like standing in the eye of a storm, where everything is still but the air carries weight, electricity, and threat.

“Mostly,” Izzy says, finally. “Mostly this is how I dress. I mean, I couldn’t wear gray, could I? They wouldn’t let me leave.” She tries to sound lighthearted, then winces. Bad joke.

Her mother, in what looks almost like flat gray scrubs, with a high-cut V-neck and a waist without a drawstring, smiles back, apparently unoffended. There’s a shift - subtle as a cat moving onto its back paws in grass, eyes focused on a nearby bird. Izzy has always been sensitive to changes in the tension of a room, and her own eyes - hazel leaning towards brown, her father’s eyes through and through - move to a nearby guard, reassuring herself with his presence.

Savannah Marcoset is firmly locked in prison for life, with handcuffs and ankle-cuffs that ensure she can’t make herself a threat here, and still the soft nearly-buzzed hair at the back of Izzy’s neck stands up, and she feels like she is being inspected, a bit of bacteria in some scientist’s microscope.

“I had hoped for a little more color, is all,” Her mother says, tilting her head to the side, giving an impish little smile. “As you can imagine, there isn’t exactly a surplus of art here. You look lovely, Isabella.”

Izzy swallows against a lump in her throat. Absurdly, she feels outnumbered, one-to-one. “I, yeah. Thanks.” She tries for a responding smile, maybe half-successful at it. “You have-... you have art classes here, I read.”

“You read up on me.” Her mother’s expression changes a little, opens up. She sits up a little straighter, then, and there’s a flash of still-white teeth in her smile, now. “You know about me. I would have thought you wouldn’t be allowed to know a thing.”

“I’m, um.” Izzy’s hands fold in her lap, and she rubs over the shredded white threads along a hole that’s worn over one thigh, the softness of a patch of fabric she’d sewn herself beneath. “I’m eighteen now, so. I get to pick what I know, more or less.”

“You’re eighteen?” Her mother’s surprise is genuine, and she glances sideways at the clock as though it will become a calendar, back to Izzy. “When did that happen?”

Why that question hurts, she doesn’t know - but it does. It’s not like Savannah Marcoset has anything to do here but remember, and yet-... she didn’t.

“About three weeks ago, actually,” Izzy says, and hears herself sounding embarrassed, like she should have not grown up at all, if that wasn’t what Savvie wanted, or expected. Like the turn of the Earth is her fault, something she did on purpose just to spite Savvie by stealing time.

“Oh. Well.” Savvie folds her hands with a soft rattle as the cuffs knock into the shiny, sealed tabletop. She leans over, and Izzy can see the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, now, the hint of them around her lips. Her jawline seems stronger, more carved, she is a statue version of a parent that Izzy remembers as a kind of terrifying whirlwind. Her hair is less overwhelming, the deep brown graying at the temples, pulled back simply against the nape of her neck. It isn’t so long, as it once was. Savvie pauses, waits for Izzy to look her in the eyes. “Happy birthday, Isabella.”

The name is wrong - it’s always been wrong - but Izzy smiles, anyway. “Thanks. Eighteen is a bit weird, it doesn’t feel any different than seventeen did, but-”

“My no-contact orders were signed here, in the US,” Savvie says, interrupting her, thinking this through. “So you, what, had to be eighteen to come see me? Have you wanted to before?” She leans forward, and Izzy leans back, feeling her back press into the chair behind her, letting her right hand drop to rub at the seam of her jeans on the outside of one thigh. Her heart beats harder. “Did he keep you from seeing me?”

He.

“No,” Izzy says, and her voice is thin at first, but she clears her throat and the second try is stronger. “No, he didn’t. He would have, if I’d have wanted to, before. I just didn’t ‘til now. We’re, um-... we’re doing an American holiday, more or less.”

Shit. She shouldn’t have said-

“‘We’?” Savvie’s expression brightens, with real interest now. Her eyes pin Izzy like a butterfly to a display case, jam tiny needles through her wings, hold her fast. “He’s here? Jax is here?”

“He’s not,” Izzy lies, smooth as silk, without hesitating. She’d planned for this question, prepared for this. She’d sat up til two in the morning prepping for the ways her mother might try to talk about her father, and more importantly, the ways that Izzy wouldn’t give her what she wanted. She’d just been hoping to hide it better for longer. “He didn’t come with m-me here. It’s just me, Mom, and some friends.”

Savvie clicks her tongue against her teeth. “He didn’t think I was too dangerous, for you to speak to?”

She can’t help her slight, sardonic laugh at that. “You’re in prison, Mom.” It feels weird, to hear herself say Mom out loud, as though that was ever what Savvie had been. She was four the last time she said Mommy to Savvie’s face, and even then it had been an apology Izzy can barely remember now, her own sense of a small voice saying, I’m sorry, Mommy, I won’t do it anymore, but she can’t remember what she’d done to get in trouble.

Breathe, probably.

“You’re in prison,” She repeats, and her heartbeat settles a little, reassuring herself with the words spoken out loud, made real. “You’re the least dangerous you’ve ever been, to us.”

Savvie sits back, less pleased now. “I was never dangerous. Did he tell you I was dangerous to you? I never was. That was a lie he made up, so they would help take you and your brother away from me. I only ever wanted us to be a family, Isabella.”

“Mom.” Izzy’s voice wavers, and Savvie might smile a little at the sound, but if she does, it’s because she sees the wrong reason for the waver, or… maybe she enjoys the annoyance, the anger, as much as she would fear. “We both know that’s not true, none of that is true.”

“I wanted a family,” Savvie says, in a low voice, not quite a whisper. Regretful, mournful. She trails a fingernail along the top of the table, and Izzy tenses at the scrape of it. Barely audible but it grates on her nerves nonetheless. She swallows, presses her lips together, tries not to watch it move.

Fails.

Savvie’s nails aren’t painted - in Izzy’s blurry remaining memories of her, Savvie’s nails are always painted colors - but they shine, perfectly filed edges moving, catching a hint of light.

“Your dad,” Savvie says, in that same mournful, grieving tone, “didn’t want you at all. Did you know that? He never did. He hated the very idea of you, and your brother. He thinks I don't know that he cried over the concept of you. No… you were never wanted by anyone but me, until he realized he could steal you to hurt me. He could always be cold that way. He took you and hoped I would-”

“Stop.” Izzy struggles to say it. Even now, with therapy a constant foundation of her life and a stronger one than her mother’s terrifying rage, it’s hard to make herself say the word. She has to fight to make it audible, but it’s still clearly surprising - Savvie goes silent, watching her with those unnerving wide blue eyes. “Please-... stop. I, I know how he felt. You can’t-... you can’t rewrite history, Mom. I know… I know how it was, or I know enough.”

“It’s the truth, Isabella.” Her mother’s expression is so earnestly sincere. Izzy licks at her lips, suddenly dry and chapped, and thinks that if there were a lie-detector test, her mother would pass it, stone-cold. No way to tell she didn’t believe her own words. She might, actually, believe the story as it leaves her mouth, believe it so utterly she can lie without even knowing she’s doing it. “That’s all I ever wanted to do, is have the chance to tell you the truth. But he got that no-contact order and made sure you would only ever know how he saw it.” Savvie smiles with wistful regret, every inch the mother mourning her lost children.

Izzy knows better.

Jamie, her little brother, fifteen and with no memory of his mother at all, might fall for this. She's a stranger to him. But Izzy remembers the hours locked alone in the dark, and the sound of her father screaming in pain.

She swallows trying not to think too much about that memory. “It’s not about-... there aren’t two sides, Mom. This isn't like any other divorce. You held him prisoner.” She’s falling into a trap, and she can feel it but she can’t stop herself. Her mother hasn’t tried to so much as reach for her - it wouldn’t be allowed, the guard would step forward if she did - but Izzy still feels like she has been pinned, claws sliding into her shoulders and a heavy weight holding her to her seat. A bird that didn’t see the threat in time to take flight. "You-... held us all-"

“Well, now he’s made sure I’m a prisoner, hasn’t he? Must be nice, to pin all your problems on the Big Bad Witch in prison who can no longer defend herself. But, of course, everything is always my fault.” Savvie shrugs as she cuts Izzy off, almost idly.

"Mom, he has-..." Izzy feels unmoored. Drifting, like this can't be real, this conversation. This can't be real. "You abducted him, you-"

"Everyone has problems, sweetie." Savvie's head tilts a little more, eyes moving over Izzy’s face with an awful, palpable weight. “Don't try to make it a competition." Something gentles, then. The hard planes of her mother's face soften. "You know, you look like him.”

Izzy warms, a little, at that. She shouldn't and she knows it, but still, she does. She smiles, slightly lopsided, and raises one hand to touch the silver rings in the shell of her left ear, two of them right next to each other, one for Jax and one for her brother Jamie. “I hope so,” she admits. “I’ve always wanted to.”

The moment of gentleness in her mother’s expression slips away, replaced by a brittle frigid chill that washes over Izzy, a wave that breaks against her.

Oh, no. I cared more about him than her. Even now, fourteen years on, she still shivers in an old fear.

“He is handsome,” Savvie says, tapping her fingernails again, scraping them along the table. The sound is starting to grate on Izzy’s nerves. “He always was, even in the earliest days. He never knew it, I don’t think. I tried to tell him.”

He didn’t want to hear it from you.

“He hears it enough now,” Izzy says, and her heart goes cold with dread as she realizes she’s nearly given away something much, much worse to say than accidentally admitting her dad came on the trip with her.

Damn it, Izzy, don't let her know about Kieran.

Savvie doesn’t seem to notice the clue. She just keeps tapping. “Do you play music, Isabella? I wondered if either of you would have talent, in the end.”

It’s an abrupt change of subject, and Izzy doesn’t see it for the trap it is.

“I play-... um. I can play some things,” Izzy hedges, shifting uncomfortably from the simple truth that she can play almost anything, if she hears it a couple of times, remembers note-for-note the songs on the radio or the forbidden ones she still hides in playlists buried in playlists, the soft strains of violin that draw her but she would never admit to. “I’m-... in a band, actually.”

Savvie’s eyes are back on hers, then, that unnerving total focus. “What do you play in that band? Is it a real band, or just noise?”

Izzy rubs at the back of her neck, flushing in embarrassment. “Um. I guess it’s about fifty-fifty noise and real. I play bass guitar, actually.”

She’d read somewhere that bass guitar was easy, and figured if she played that, no one would realize the music was inherent in her, demanding expression. She could say she wanted to be in the band because of her father, who had been in one once upon a time, too. She wouldn’t have to admit that the music didn’t come from Jax, but from Savvie’s blood in her veins. She could pretend, with the bass guitar, to be worse at it than she really was without ruining the songs.

Her mother snorts, derisive. “Anyone can play that,” She says, waving one hand in dismissal - but the other has to come with it, and it’s a reminder that, no matter how Izzy feels in the moment, there is no real danger here. “That hardly counts. Can you play a real instrument?”

“It is a real instrument.”

“Hardly.” Savvie looks disappointed, and it’s weird - she hasn’t seen her face-to-face since she was four, and she hasn’t said a word to her in that time, and still… the disappointment hurts, a little. “You weren’t allowed to do music, were you? He forbade you, because of me.”

“No, he absolutely didn’t.” It’s Izzy’s turn to lean forward, her hands closing into fists in her lap now, an old habit from childhood she’s mostly broken but it comes back, now, as her irritation rises in eternal defense of Jax. “He’s always supported whatever I wanted to do-”

“Because he doesn’t care enough to make sure you’re doing something worthwhile.” Her mother’s sigh cracks open a dark door inside her, it’s familiar even to her fading memories. It’s a sigh she knows from birth. Before Izzy can respond again, she changes the subject, deft as a dancer. “What are you doing for school, then? Are you going to go to college?”

Izzy blinks, thrown off track. “Um. Yes, I do plan on it, I’ll be going to university next autumn-”

“You’ve got the accent, too. Guess they’ve painted over everything they didn’t like, didn’t they?”

“Wh-what?” Her heart stops as her mother’s voice is sharp again. Her fists tighten, pressing down into her thighs until they nearly ache. “What’d you-”

“You look like him, dress like the dime-store version of him - honestly, Isabella, look at you, you look… grimy. You even talk like him. What is this, trying to look like the daughter he might have actually wanted? Is that it?”

Izzy swallows, sitting back again, thumping into the back of the chair. Someone nearby is crying, soft, muffled sobs. Someone else is whispering, in vicious intensity, in fury. The guards are impassive. There’s no sign they even hear Savvie speaking at all. “It’s just who I am-”

“No, it isn’t. I saw your name, Isabella Gallagher. You were born a Marcoset, but he was happy when he changed it, wasn’t he?” Savvie’s eyes won’t let her look away. She feels completely captured, the center of Savannah Marcoset’s world, the most terrifying place on Earth, somewhere Izzy has never once been. “I asked you a question, Isabella. He was happy to have you change your name, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” She’s not sure why she answers. The anxious shivering inside of her is stronger than it should be. Her voice is a whisper, a rush of air with only a hint of sound. “But it was-... my idea-”

“I’m sure he let you think that. I feel sorry for you, you know. I really do. He must care for James so much more than he does you, don’t you think? My beautiful son wasn’t old enough to even speak to me, but you… you’re a reminder, aren’t you? Oh…" Savvie's lips purse, in a sort of smug smile. "Oh, you are. God, what torture it must be for him to be around you."

She’s supposed to be stupid. Izzy has watched all the documentaries that mention the case, she read an awful unauthorized true crime book she found in a thrift shop once that just had a little teensy chapter on Savvie buried between other femme fatales. She’s done her research, to understand the woman she was going to meet as best she could.

Savannah Marcoset is supposed to be… well, stupid.

Izzy wasn’t prepared for cunning not being the same thing as smart. And she didn’t think through what eleven years in prison, with almost nothing to do but think, and no chance of leaving ever for the rest of her life, might do to hone her mother’s ability to wound. That Savvie might have taken a blunt instrument and whittled it into a blade.

“I-I’m not-”

“You are.” Savvie hums, and the tapping of her nails is going to drive Izzy up the fucking wall. “Even just being alive, you are. And your hair, well…” Savvie’s eyes go up to Izzy’s hair, the same deep chocolate brown as Savannah’s own, a shock of curly brown that falls over her forehead and against one side, nearly shaved on the other side and along the back. “You can cut it, but it’s still my hair. You walk around a living reminder of what he stole from me, just to hurt me, what he didn’t even want. You were never wanted, Isabella. That’s why your birth is part of my crimes, don’t you think? You and James both. You’re a crime I committed against him, right?”

“A crime-” Her voice cracks, but if she sounds uncertain, it’s only her nerves, her inability to stand up for herself sometimes. It’s not fear. She is not afraid of this woman, and she doesn’t believe her.

Okay, a little afraid.

But she doesn’t believe her, she doesn’t. She knows better, because she knows how hard her father has worked to build the life around her, the one she’s living now. She knows how many times he has held her after nightmares - hers and his both. She knows he could have left her and James behind, but he didn’t.

Every chance he had to set them down, he chose to hold them instead.

Most of all, she knows the way her father has carefully, day by day and year by year, taught her that love is not the same thing as danger.

Her shoulders square, and her back straightens. “You keep saying that, b-but… there’s a difference between not wanting someone who will be hurt to, to be there to be hurt, and caring about someone. There’s-... you can’t see the difference, is all, but I can. I know-” She swallows. “I know how it looks like when he loves someone, and you don’t.”

“Hm.” Savvie’s fascination flags, a little, at that. Her stare is unnerving, unblinking, but Izzy feels the anger coming off of her, hidden and still plain as day. “Changing the subject, I see. So much of you is just a walking reminder. You’re just a tragedy on two legs, aren’t you, Isabella?”

Part of Izzy thinks wryly, how long ago did you think of that and how long have you been waiting for someone to say it to? but the rest of her can’t find the breath to say it out loud. “You can’t make my life worse than it is, Mom. Not anymore. I didn’t come h-here for this, I came here for-”

I came here to see if you could see me, even now, or only a reflection of what you can’t have. I guess I have my answer.

Savvie hasn’t stopped talking. “What of you is even yourself, Isabella? Are you just… trying not to be me? Do you not want him to think of me?” Her smile widens. Flash of teeth. For a second, just one brief second, Izzy sees fangs. “Oh, sweetie. You can’t ever change that, no matter what you do. I was important. I ruined his life, remember? There was a whole court case about it. Two, really. It’s why I’m here. Because I’m the Big Bad Wolf, or so I’m told.” She snorts. “You should have worn red, Isabella. Or something.”

“Or something,” Izzy whispers, looking down at her hands, at her knuckles gone white, her fists. The round clock is ticking on the wall, and it’s only an hour. She told herself she could last for an hour, when she walked in here. She told herself she could make it, and she would.

“Isabella-”

“You didn’t, by the way.” Where the words come from, she’s not sure. But they come out sure, and strong. "You didn't ruin his life. It’s better, it’s good.”

“Oh? Is it?” Savvie feigns disinterest, but she’s so bright and sparkling, pulling Izzy in. “What about it is so good, Isabella? What does my husband do, in his whole new life without me? What can he do? Show me how I’m wrong.” Savvie’s presence is heavy, it takes up too much space, feels like Izzy is pressed against the wall, suffocating. How did they live like this, surrounded by her on all sides, all the time? How had Jax ever survived so long alone with her?

Her voice trembles more than she wants it to when she speaks. “What?”

“You say I’m wrong - about him, about you.” Savvie is a shark, and Izzy is blood in the water. She seems bigger, suddenly, or maybe Izzy is smaller. Younger. Has too much hair for her age and a frilly dress she hates and she has to be good, and so quiet, and do exactly what she is told or her father will be hurt, and it will be her fault, because it’s always, always her fault-

Savvie’s voice is not quite a whisper. “Tell me, Isabella, all these things I am so wrong about. Even if you believe his side of the story, he’s all I thought about, the only thing that mattered, right? So I know him better than anyone else, don’t I? And you’re mine. I know everything about you, without even trying."

“You don’t-... know anything about me.” Izzy knows she’s getting quieter, and knows as she retreats, her mother presses forward, thrilled to play a game she hasn’t played in… in eleven years, more or less. “And you don’t know a single thing about him.”

“I know every fucking scar on his body.” Izzy’s stomach flips, but Savvie is leaning forward again, and the blue of her eyes is overtaking everything else around them. Plain beige walls and plain table and plain bars over plain windows can’t compete. The gray of everyone’s prison outfits, her own black-and-slightly-less-black, none of it is a good enough distraction, enough to tear her away. “That’s what I know. You’re sweet, Isabella, and it’s lovely of you to try and be the dutiful little daughter all over again. But I know things you don’t, I always have. I know I still do. He hasn’t told you half of it, and he won’t.”

It’s a strike, a feint and then a jab, and if this were a real fight Izzy would be ready for it, but words are so much harder to defend against. “I was a little kid, I didn’t need to know it, I didn’t want to. I don’t need to know-”

“You had colic, for a month or so.” Savvie cuts her off, raising her voice a little. One of the guards behind her shifts, might look at them from behind the dark of his glasses at the volume. “When you were little. Cried like a banshee, day and night, no reason. I could hear you in my practice room. Still think you know everything?”

“This isn’t-... I don’t know why you’re telling me this."

“I had my responsibilities, sweetie. I mean, I was a new mother, but I was still a person. I didn’t need to change all that much, really. Jax spent half his time trying to keep me away from you, your own mother, and the other half trying to shut you up.”

“You could be-... he said you were up-upset, sometimes, um, you c-could be-”

“Violent? Never. I was tired, maybe - we both were. Jax has never slept well."

Because of you.

"Oh, here we go. One of my favorites of his little insults… does he say I was unstable? I’m sure I’ve heard it all. Probably in court, no less, he very much enjoyed getting on stage to put on his little show. Taking the jury around and around in circles acting like I never did anything kind for you.” Her eyes move back to Izzy’s hair, shaking her head slightly, one lip curling upward in a sneer. “I certainly would have been kind enough not to let you make yourself look like that.”

“Mom-”

“Shut up, Isabella. I am talking to you, and I am not done yet.”

Izzy’s mouth snaps shut, teeth clicking together, her nails digging into her palms. Her eyes flicker to the guard, trying to catch him, but no, she’s going to last the whole hour, she promised herself she could do it, she promised.

Besides, it's… sort of harder than she thought, to look away when Savvie is talking.

“We ended up getting my, well, Isaac’s servant Hannah to help with you. Because of the colic. He asked for her, really. I was prepared to bring in someone else, but Jax had his demands, and when he really wanted something, well.” She shrugs, calmly, casually. She is talking about a reality that never existed, moving all the pieces around until the past suits her and not the court documents. Until her story is the one circling Izzy’s head, and not the story she knows has to actually be true. “How could I refuse?”

“He asked-... but when he wanted-”

“What did I just say?”

“Mom, I need to-”

“Let. Me. Finish.”

“N-No, I don’t want to hear this-”

“You know what he started to do? Once we had Hannah around, a few days a week? When the steward began to come as well? Do you know what the number one change your father made to his life was, once that happened?”

“Mom, please. Please don’t do this.” Her voice is nearly gone, and Savvie leaps.

“He started getting the hell away from you.” Savvie throws her head back and laughs, loud enough to make people look over at them. Izzy wonders, face burning in embarrassment, what they see. Do they know who Savvie is? Is she really famous, here, like Izzy thinks she is? Does everyone know they’re watching Savannah Marcoset push her daughter under the water and watch her struggle to breathe?

But… the words hurt. He got the hell away from you. “He did-... he did what?”

“Fucking escaped you. He thinks I didn’t notice. Everyone always thinks I don’t notice, didn’t know things. Your father - my Jax - thinks I’m a fucking idiot, I get that now. But I saw that, him handing you off to Hannah or the steward and get as far away from you as he could without-” Savvie lifts her hands to tap at the side of her neck with a slight, almost dreamy smile. “Everyone says I’m the bad mom, the bad parent, but I’m not the only one who shoved you aside every chance I got.” Savvie hums, almost idly. She’s playing, Izzy thinks dimly. Cat with a ball of yarn. Somehow the words hurt a little less when the realization comes. “That’s the thing, though, isn’t it, Bella-”

“Izzy,” She whispers, but her mother doesn’t hear her, or doesn’t care.

“You know you are, fundamentally, his fucking nightmare. Your father sat up there before judge and jury and told everyone that I only had you so I could control him just a little bit more. Did you see that, in the documentaries you watched? Did you hear about it? Did he tell you that you only existed to be a weapon, that you're just a pretty little tool in my toolbox?"

She doesn’t want to answer any of those questions, and keeps her eyes down, focuses on the knuckles of her hands. How they sit over her lap so nicely, if you ignore that they are fists. Her face still burns bright red, and her eyes are hot with tears she blinks rapidly away before her mother can see them fall.

“He’ll say I didn’t love you.” Savvie’s expression is chilled, disdainful. “But your father had whole days he could barely stand to touch you. He had days he couldn’t even look at you. You ran around after him begging for, what, for someone to pat you on the head and say you were good just as you are? No wonder he couldn’t give you that.”

“He did give me that, over and over-... how you’re saying it isn’t how it happened, you’re not remembering what actually happened, Mom-”

“I think, deep down, you know it’s because no matter what you do with your hair, or your clothes, he is always going to look at you and see me. That’s the fear, isn’t it? That you're me, or you will be. That’s why you’re here, why you flew all the way across the fucking Atlantic to pay Mommy a visit. You wanted to see how much of you is me. How much of me is in you. How much of a fuck he can even give, in the end, for my daughter." She laughs again, and Izzy flinches. "He must hate you, deep down, and part of you knows it. Am I right?”

Izzy can’t answer at first, and her mother clicks her tongue, falsely sympathetic.

“Oh, sweetie. It’s okay. I can’t do a fucking thing to you, or him, or anyone now. But I’m glad you came to see me. I'm glad to see that you're just the same, easy to break as ever. You'll end up with exactly the love you deserve, Bella. Won't you?"

Izzy's eyes are blurred, struggling to focus. What rises in her isn’t fear, or doubt, or even sadness. It’s anger, the same simmering slow burn that that comes whenever someone tries to push her and her father down, when they have to force their way back up. "N-no-"

"Yes. You'll get what you were born for, one way or another. Don't worry, sweetie. You're not like me at all. You're just… a mirror, and the reflection isn't even a good one." Savvie laughs, cold and cruel, delighting in the pain on her daughter's face. "Here I was worried you’d be angry, but I don’t think you can be. Is that too much like me, too?”

“No, I’m… I get a-angry sometimes, I can… it’s not like that-”

“Not like what? Speak up, Bella. Stop mumbling, you were always a mumbler. Most children shout, you know.”

“Most children don’t get locked in closets if they do.” Izzy is still whispering at the start, but the words come more strongly as she works her way through them, eyelashes heavy with tears she tries to pretend don’t exist. “Most-... most kids can throw a fit without their dad getting hurt, and most kids get to leave the h-house sometimes, and if I-... if he couldn’t-... it was because of you, not because of m-me.”

“Tell yourself that.”

“I do. I do tell myself that. I only have to tell myself that because of you, and you-... you just wanted to be his whole life and the only thing in it and you’re n-not, and this isn’t even about hurting me, is it? All of this-... telling me about, about him-...”

She can remember it, can’t she? Faint traces remain, of asking for Jax and being told by her Aunt Hannah that he needed some time, of asking and having her Papa Stewart give her a hug instead, of asking and asking and then learning not to ask…

“You aren’t telling me this to hurt me. You’re telling me this to hurt him.” Izzy raises her eyes, aware of the bright red blotches on her cheeks, aware of the tear tracks, aware of her hands in fists and the zinging anger in her that simmers underneath her fear. “You want me to take this out into the-... into the world, back to Dad, and tell him what you said because it’ll hurt him to hear that you said it, and you’ve been in prison for eleven years and missed most of my life and nearly all of my little brother’s - who you haven’t asked me a single fucking question about, by the w-way - and all you can think about, even now, is the… the one who got away from you.”

The balance shifts, some of the glittering brightness fades from Savvie’s eyes, the fascinated sadism seeps out of her expression. “Isabella-”

“Izzy. I’m called Izzy. And you know that, because you’ve known it ever since the trial. And maybe I was-... was hard, for him, when I was a baby and I can’t fix that or make it any better, it’s all already happened and I’ve had to learn not to feel guilty about it since I was four years old, but of the two of you, only one has ever bothered to give any solitary fucks about who I am! I came here to see if you could-... if you could change, or rethink, or even just, just feel something about me, and all you can feel is the parts of me that are him!”

“Isabella-”

“You shut up! You do it, now, and you listen to what I have to say! I was sc-scared, all the time, because of you, not him. He was the one who came to let me out, and he was the one who held me when I was scared, and even if he didn’t want to be near me, he still tried! You don’t-... you don’t get to change the story and make it not what it was, Mom, I know what it was.”

“You know what he told you it was.”

“No. I know what it actually really was. There is no other alternative world where you’re the good guy, or better than he was! Maybe I was a hard baby to l-love, because of whose baby I am, and I-I carry that forever… that I'm not the kid he would've wanted to have... but he tried, and if he didn’t love me at first, at least he tried until he learned how! But… but I know he did. I know he loved me, and Jamie, so much that he did the scariest thing he could imagine by running with us and having to hope we could make it to Grandpa before you could catch us again. I think you don’t know him at all, and you’re going to die in prison still not knowing, and that’s why you’re doing this now. It is killing you that you could lock us up and put that thing on his neck and keep us trapped and you still don’t know any of us at all.”

“I made every single scar-”

“Scars aren’t who someone is! They’re just marks of you being shitty to him! They don’t say who he is now, or how his mind works, or how fucking brilliant he is at being a dad! You know some marks on his skin, but I know who he is when he’s safe, and strong, and happy, and you will never know that man. You won’t ever know what he looks like really in love, and I do, and it is absolutely nothing like he looked around you!"

Her eyes flare. “Bella, what are you talking about, in love? With who? Who would-”

“I came here to see if-... if any part of me really is you, and it’s not, because all the parts of me that matter are from him and Grandpa and Papa Stewart and Nana and my aunties and none of the important bits are yours at all! No one loves you, because you can’t love anyone, but I can, and he can, and Jamie can. You are never ever going to see him again… and I’m going to walk out that door and give him a fucking hug."

She shoves her chair back, making a metallic screech along the floor that makes her mother wince, adrenaline pumping through her veins. It’s a kind of fight, this, she’d been pinned to the mat and fought her way back to standing in the end.

“I am proud of him, for all he’s done to make an even better life for Jamie and me, and I am proud of him for finding Kieran, after you - and Kie’s a better bonus dad by a million years than you ever were a mom - and… and he’s proud of me. He’s proud of the person I am and not just the person he thought I was supposed to be. That’s more important than, than anything, is that he and I-... we can be proud of each other, and you can’t be proud of anything but yourself.”

Savvie looks startled, now, struggling to regain the surety she’d felt before. She can’t stand or the guard will come, and so she stays seated, and looks up at Izzy, no taller than her father but wiry still. “I think we’re done here,” Savvie says coldly. “You’re clearly too swept up in your father to be worth talking to.”

“Maybe,” Izzy shrugs, shoves her hands in her hoodie pockets, finds the comfortable weight of her phone, switched off for during the visit like the guards had asked. Wonders if her dad, sitting in the rental in the parking lot, has started pacing yet. If he’s watching the clock, waiting for her text to come through, bouncing his foot like he does sometimes. If he’s pretending to read or texting Kieran or if he’s just staring at the squat building that stretches wide on either side, waiting for her to come out. “Did I disappoint you, then? How I am, just me?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Savvie shakes her head, ruefully. Her expression shifts into mournfulness, just a few seconds too late for it to be convincing. “I had high hopes for you. But he ruined you, in the end. Absolutely ruined you.”

“That’s… that’s probably good. I don’t think I’ll come back, Mom. But I might-... I might write a letter.” Why she throws the offer out, she doesn’t know, only… only some part of her will always, always want to keep hoping that this will change.

Savvie’s eyebrows raise. “I might answer it. Can you fix your hair, if you ever come again? And wear something… nicer than this?”

Izzy blinks, rolling her eyes back to look up at her hairline, down to look at her shirt and jeans, and then back to her mother. “Why? Because it’s shorter than you want it to be? Because you don’t like my clothes?”

“Because you look like a lesbian, Isabella.”

Izzy blinks, too thrown to find the words at first, and then she shrugs, rubbing her thumb along the side of her phone in her pocket, her palms aching where her nails had dug in so deeply, over very old scars. She can’t quite help her smile. “Oh. Well, fuck, Mom, my girlfriend will be shocked when she hears you feel that way.”

“Your what?”

Izzy turns and walks away, past the other tables with crying or hurting people, or people who look like they want very badly to hug and can’t, and she doesn’t look back.

The door clangs open and slams shut behind her, the hallway stretching out ahead, and she walks down two sets of stairs and around a corner before she sees the big heavy doors that lead out into the world, the huge parking lot warmed by sunlight with no trees to break the glare of it. She gives the guards manning the checkpoint a little wave of one hand, pushing the door open, and moves into the glaring, brilliant light, turning to face the corner where her father has been waiting by the rental.

He’s definitely been pacing.

She smiles and heads towards him, giving him a big wave. He’s moving towards her before her hand is even fully in the air.

If her mother’s words are designed to shatter, her father’s love - starting with his desperate attempts to protect her, his whispered be brave for me, Izzy as they boarded a train, written across every single day of her life - is a foundation too strong to be broken.

Her mother, Izzy thinks, can’t understand love like that.

But Izzy does.

And it's more than enough.

Always.

---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Note

Congrats on 500 followers!!!!! Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve it! Would you be able to do “Can you please stop biting your lip…it’s distracting.” for analogical? If you don’t get inspo for it that’s totally fine I’m just on a total analogical kick recently lol

@wisherbystarlight thank you!! i absolutely love analogical so here you go

Title: abject impermanence

Word Count: 3,570

Content Warnings: implied suicidal ideation (in reference to virgil ducking out), negative self image

(fic masterpost)

Virgil would rather die than admit this to anybody, but he develops a crush on Logan after their first debate.

It’s ridiculous, and bothersome, and stupidly humiliating, and he has to spend a few days in his room before he feels prepared enough to face anyone again, prepared enough to put up his usual walls and throw around his usual sarcastic comments, and all the while, his heart is beating far too fast, his mind racing, insisting that he’s being obvious, that everyone knows.

(That is what being Anxiety means: he is under a microscope all the time, his every movement watched and analyzed and derided, alone in a crowd of people who wish him nothing but ill.)

It’s awful, really. Is he truly so pathetic that the first time someone treats him like his opinions are valid, he falls head over heels for them? Because he has to admit, that’s the root of all of this. The debate, and the fact that even though Logan didn’t agree with him, he still treated him with respect, like he was someone worth listening to, and none of the light sides have ever acted like that before.

And they’ve certainly never told him that they don’t mind his company.

So. He has a crush on Logan. And it takes him a few weeks to calm down enough to really think about it, but when he does, he decides that nothing has to change. It’s not like he’ll ever work up the courage to act on these feelings

(because holy shit, how badly would that go? He can picture it now: Logan sneering at him, Logan rejecting him, Logan informing him that he would never in a million years have feelings for someone so irrational and useless, and while Virgil is at it, would he kindly remove himself from his presence and never come back and— well. Maybe Virgil is irrational, but he can’t bring himself to risk something like that)

so the only thing to do with them is pretend they’re not there, right? He’ll keep all of his emotions right here, in his chest, and then one day, he’ll die, and no one else has to know a thing about it.

He doesn’t see what could possibly go wrong with this plan. Which is odd for him because usually, he can only see the things that could go wrong. But the only factor in this plan is him, and his own ability to disguise his feelings, and he’s been successfully doing that for a very long time.

(After all, it’s been years, and none of the others have managed to figure out how much their rejection hurts him, how deeply it strikes at the heart he pretends not to have.)

But he doesn’t anticipate things changing. He doesn’t anticipate trying to duck out, at least, not until the moments in between making the decision and actually going through with it, and he doesn’t anticipate anybody coming after him. He certainly doesn’t anticipate their reactions, doesn’t anticipate being told that he’s important,

(because since fucking when?)

and doesn’t anticipate their acceptance.

He doesn’t anticipate telling them his name.

And alright, maybe he could deal with all of this. Maybe he could ease his way into being one of them, edge his way into their inner circle. It’s something he once would have thought impossible, but now, they seem determined to make him one of them, to bring him into their family, and even though part of him wonders whether they’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t duck out again, doesn’t hurt Thomas, a larger part of him is ecstatic about the fact that they’re including him at all. Maybe he can let himself have this, for once.

But that night, Logan comes to his room.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” he asks, and reluctantly, Virgil takes off his headphones.

Because, yes. Of course. He’s hardly busy, and even if he were, he’s certain he’d figure out a way to put it aside in favor of Logan, because really, he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, aiming for casual. He thinks he makes it, if only because he is very practiced in hiding how much of a mess he is internally. “What’s up?”

Logan looks uncomfortable, a bit shifty, even though he hasn’t been in his room nearly long enough for its effects to take hold.

“I merely wanted to check in with you after today’s events,” he says, and then pauses, biting his lip, something that Virgil finds incredibly distracting. “Specifically, to ensure that you are alright.”

He blinks. “Of course I’m alright,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“Well, I was considering everything that happened, and it occurred to me that we glossed over precisely what ‘ducking out’ would have done to you in the long term.” In an oddly vehement motion, Logan shoves his glasses further up his nose. And Virgil knows very well that as the embodiment of Logic, Logan tries not to display his stronger emotions, but right now, he is the perfect picture of distress. “I find it likely that if Thomas had been unable to utilize you for an extended amount of time, you may have… disappeared, for lack of a better word, not unlike a muscle that atrophies after disuse.”

Well, yes. He knew what he was risking. But he’d felt low enough that he didn’t particularly care about himself.

He was just tired of hurting Thomas.

(And maybe, just maybe, if there was a part of him, small and insidious in the back of his brain, that found the prospect of nothingness appealing, he’ll keep that to himself.)

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But that didn’t happen. You guys came and got me, and I’m okay now. Not gonna do anything like that again, I swear.”

“That’s not my point,” Logan says, even more upset entering his voice. He crosses his arms, holding his shoulders tensely. “No matter how illogical it might seem, I find myself wondering what might have happened had we not attempted to reach you in time, and the idea is… displeasing.”

Oh.

Despite himself, Virgil’s heart flutters.

“So, I arrived at the conclusion that assuring myself of your continued well-being would help to assuage my concern.” Logan fidgets. “As well as the fact that… I want you to be alright. For yourself, and not just because I am…”

“Anxious?” Virgil can’t resist finishing, even as he feels his face flushing underneath his foundation. God, he hopes Logan doesn’t pick up on that. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly to something as simple as basic worry, especially after the day they all had, but to know that Logan has been thinking about him? That Logan doesn’t like the idea of him not being around, doesn’t want him to vanish?

That Logan cares enough to come check on him like this?

It’s a strong, heady feeling, and Virgil has the sneaking suspicion that his crush has just upgraded itself.

“Yes,” Logan answers, and he seems a bit embarrassed, but he holds his ground, staring Virgil straight (gay) in the eyes. The direct eye contact is intense, almost too much for him to handle, but Virgil finds himself unable to look away.

“Well, uh, I appreciate it, I guess,” he manages. “Really, it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Of course,” Logan says, and seems almost indignant at the idea that he might not. “I value our discussions,” he adds, and Virgil has to pretend that that statement doesn’t almost give him a heart attack.

But that is mostly the end of that conversation, because really, neither of them is very good with touchy-feely emotions. Logan sinks back out shortly after, and Virgil is left alone in his room, his headphones lying uselessly on his lap as his mind reviews their exchange over and over again, searching for all the places where it might have gone wrong, or where he might have messed up. He can’t really find any, and that is a realization in and of itself, almost enough to distract him from the bigger one, the one that looms over him.

It’s not just a crush anymore. He could try to deny it, but he thinks that would summon unwanted attention. So he accepts it, accepts that he is… he’d say infatuated, but infatuated isn’t the right word. Infatuated doesn’t even begin to cover what he feels when he looks at Logan, doesn’t cover the way his heart races and his words trip over themselves and the way he longs for his approval. It doesn’t cover the way he knows so many little details about him, like the way Logan pushes at his glasses or fiddles with his tie when he’s nervous or upset, or the exact way his lips curl around the edges when he’s pleased and trying not to show it. So many little details, none of which would be on his radar at all if he wasn’t—

Well. He won’t deny it. But he doesn’t particularly see the need to voice it, either.

After all, it’s not like it changes anything. Or at least, it shouldn’t. He wasn’t planning on sharing his feelings when they were a simple crush, and he’s certainly not going to share them now that there’s more.

Except, nothing is ever that simple,

(Nothing ever can be, with him. It’s what he does best, turning easy things into overcomplicated messes because he can’t let go of all the what ifs—)

because suddenly, he’s welcome to spend time with the others. Is welcome at their table, is welcome in the commons, is welcome to join their movie nights and their game nights, and most of the time, he even feels mostly okay with doing so, because Patton is enthusiastic in his invitations, and he can tell that even Roman is honestly trying. And sometimes, it makes him want to cry, because this is all he’s ever wanted, to be one of them, and now he can and it’s almost too much.

The only problem with that is that he’s spending a lot more time around Logan.

Which is fine. Great, even.

Except, sometimes, Logan will do things. Little things, inconsequential things, but things that remind Virgil all too clearly of the feelings he keeps nestled under his heart.

For instance, Logan bites his lip a lot. When he’s working, when he’s watching movies, when he’s listening to the others, and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s a stupid thing to get caught up on, but he can’t help himself. And it’s not as if Virgil’s attraction to him begins or ends with the physical, but—

Whenever he does it, Virgil can’t stop his eyes from zeroing in on his lips. Can’t stop himself from thinking about how much he would like to kiss him.

He would like to kiss him a whole lot. And he’s fairly sure he’s being pretty obvious about it, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

So, really, he should have prepared himself for the possibility of being found out. Under any other circumstance, he would have, but there’s a saying, he thinks, about love and fools.

“Can I help you with something?” Logan says, and Virgil flinches violently, the rest of the world coming back into focus. He snaps his gaze up to meet Logan’s eyes, and the expression on his face might be amusement, maybe, but it could also be annoyance, and in fact, it’s probably definitely annoyance, because actually Logan is annoyed with Virgil and maybe even angry and now their budding friendship is completely ruined and all because Virgil doesn’t know better than to stare when he really shouldn’t be staring and—

No, stop. Stop. He’s not going to do that, not right now. He wrests his thoughts back under control with an effort.

Logan was working, typing away on his laptop, biting his lip as he concentrated. And Virgil just so happened to be out in the commons as well, in the perfect position to watch him and daydream, just a bit.

He needs to reply. He’s left it too long, and Logan’s eyebrows are inching up his face as he awaits a response. And the longer he takes to come up with something, the more suspicious Logan will be, so he should just shrug, mutter a denial, and pointedly turn his attention away. Something like that.

But it’s his job to make snap decisions under pressure. And sometimes those decisions aren’t the right ones.

So instead of taking another second to think things through and deflect Logan’s interest, his mouth opens ahead of his brain and says, “Can you please stop biting your lip?”

Logan stares. Virgil feels himself wilting.

“… It’s distracting,” he finishes weakly, and prays for the ground to swallow him whole. He can’t even manage to sink out

(because his mind is screaming at him now, screaming horrified recriminations, screaming all of the worst case scenarios, and it’s taking all of his concentration to breathe properly, much less get out of here)

because the sheer force of his embarrassment is leaving him paralyzed, curled up in his chair and with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape Logan’s widening eyes.

“Is it now,” Logan says, and he doesn’t sound particularly angry, but Virgil could very easily be wrong. Or, he could be angry and trying to hide it. Or maybe he’s not angry, but irritation would probably be just as bad, at this point.

“Sorry,” he mutters, hunching in on himself. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“Virgil, you’re magnifying,” Logan says softly, and that softness is worse than any anger could be, because what if he’s figured it out? What if he pities him? Virgil would take just about anything over pity. “Whatever you think you just said, I assure you that it didn’t come off nearly as badly as you seem to believe.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Though, I can’t say I’m certain of what you meant, considering—”

He cuts off suddenly, and Virgil can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He should leave now, leave before Logan draws his conclusions, but he is frozen, powerless to do anything but let this train wreck happen in real time.

“I wouldn’t ordinarily consider biting my lip to be a disruptive habit,” Logan says slowly. “It makes no noise and does no one any harm, and it’s not something I would think affects anyone else. But you were staring, which means there is something about the habit that draws your attention. I can only think of a few reasons for that.”

He takes it back. Pity would be far better than this, than this slow and measured reasoning, drawing out all of Virgil’s best-kept secrets, spiraling toward a conclusion that he never wanted anyone to know, much less Logan himself.

Perhaps that is why he says what he says. Because with this, Logan is only prolonging the inevitable, and it’s torture.

It’s like a band-aid. The biggest band-aid ever, maybe, covering one of the worst wounds of his life, but a band-aid. And it’s coming off one way or another, so he might as well rip it off now and brace himself for the sting.

“Oh my god,” he says. “It makes me want to kiss you. That’s why it’s distracting. And I’m just gonna go die in a hole now, if that’s alright.”

His face is burning, mortification rising up in him like a tidal wave, threatening to swamp him. This is, possibly, the worst thing that has ever happened to him, ever.

(It’s not, of course, because anything and everything is better than it was before he was accepted, when he was on his own and so lonely and bitter all the time. But this comes close, he thinks. It’s a different kind of hurt altogether, but a hurt nonetheless.)

Logan sets his laptop down, giving him his full attention. For a moment, he is completely silent, and Virgil prepares himself to stand and sink out and into his room, where he will spend the next few weeks huddled under the covers on his bed with his headphones on blast, hating his life and himself for being such an idiot, because here he is, ruining one of the best friendships that he has ever known, and for what? Because he was too much of a moron to keep himself from staring, from forcing his unwanted attentions upon the one side who was more likely than any of the others to notice what he was doing? It’s pathetic, and stupid, and he knows it, and Logan knows it, and—

“I don’t see why you need to do that,” Logan says. His voice shakes, just slightly. “You could kiss me, if you wanted.”

Virgil stills. He can’t have heard that right.

Logan clears his throat. “That is to say, I would enjoy it, if you kissed me. If I’d realized you were interested, I would have broached the topic sooner.”

Hysterical laughter threatens to escape him, his brain dissolving into static, because what? And he knows he needs to say something, needs to respond, but his vocal cords refuse to work, so he’s left sitting there, staring, stricken dumb.

Logan glances away, something like uncertainty crossing his face. “I apologize,” he murmurs. “I’m not doing this right, am I?”

And that is what finally spurs Virgil to action, because Logan sounds so terribly dejected, and that is absolutely not allowed. Not when it’s Virgil that’s made such a mess of things, when none of it is Logan’s fault at all.

“Do you mean it?” he croaks.

Logan blinks, his expression clearing, and then landing on comprehension. His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stands, crossing the floor and kneeling in front of where Virgil sits.

“Of course I do,” he says, and then reaches out with one hand, cupping Virgil’s cheek. Virgil’s breath catches, the contact shooting lightning across his face and down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, and he doesn’t know whether it’s fear or anticipation or some mixture of the two. Most of him still hasn’t processed that this is happening, hasn’t made the jump from Logan can never know about my feelings because he’ll reject me and then I’ll have no choice but to jump off a cliff to Logan knows about my feelings and he is doing the exact opposite of rejecting me hoooooly shit what do I do—

“I think about you often,” Logan says. “Ever since our first debate, if I’m being completely honest.”

Virgil blinks.

The laugh escapes him, then, but there’s not much hysteria in it. It’s something warm, now, something bright and colorful and blooming as he realizes just how much of an idiot he’s been, as his anxiety slowly begins to fade away,

(not completely, never completely, because he is who he is and that will never change, and his mind is already looking to the future, at all the fresh new opportunities he is going to have to screw this up, but for now, in this moment, he has Logan here in front of him, offering to kiss him, telling him that his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he convinced himself they had to be, and it’s very difficult to be negative at all, in the face of such a beautiful thing as this, as him)

morphing into something that he is tentatively willing to call hope.

“Yeah?” he says. “Me too.”

Before he can lose his nerve, he shifts position, leans down, and kisses Logan. Lightly, briefly, and it’s really more of a peck than anything else, but in the split second in which their lips meet, Virgil can feel just how soft Logan’s are, and when he pulls back, anxiously searching for a reaction, Logan’s cheeks are dusted with red.

“Yes, um,” Logan says. “That was… good. Would you like to do it again?”

A wave of fondness washes over him, and he lets it drag him away.

“You dork,” he says, and pecks him on the lips again. He doesn’t yet have to courage to try for more, but he thinks that might come with time. If he is allowed time, if he is allowed this, and he is not prone to optimism, but for once, he might be willing to give it a go.

Optimism, and whatever this is, new and exciting and budding between them. And there is a part of his mind that is screaming at him, insisting that he’s only going to hurt Logan or get hurt himself, and that no brief happiness could ever be worth that, but—

Logan’s lips are gentle and soft, and Logan is smiling at him, and that, he thinks, might be worth the world.

(“I would be extremely displeased if you died in a hole,” Logan informs him a bit later. “Please refrain from doing so.”

He agrees, if only because of that fact that if he died in a hole, he would never get to kiss Logan ever again. And now that he’s started, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

He is not one to believe in permanence. Or in happy endings. But just this once, he’ll try it, and trust that Logan will catch him if he falls.)

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @ldavmp4

#analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #wisherbystarlight

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chrolloctrl · 3 years

Note

hello～! can i request for Adultrio who fell in love with fem crime hunter Reader? also have a nice day/evening💘

thank you for the request! i tried my best to make all of these different from each other, but i also tried to stay true to how the characters would sincerely react:) oh and sorry for the late post, school’s been tough :( but yknow it be like that

note(s)/warning(s): some mentions of blood and violence, but other than that nothing you wouldn’t see on hxh though

fandom(s)/character(s): hunter x hunter, adultrio, aka illumi, hisoka, and chrollo

for dialogue purposes, italics are you, and bold is the character :)

i l l u m i

since you’re a crime hunter and he is a literal trained assassin, the relationship is pretty much seemingly doomed for failure

however i imagine that you guys meet in an a very unexpected way

he’s on a mission to kill someone who had stolen from the zoldycks, and you’re on a mission to take out a thief

yeah it’s the same guy you got it

illumi gets there first and gets the job done

much to your dismay

you’re standing right behind him as he’s covered in blood over the body

all you say is “since when does the assassin do something morally correct?”

“when it benefits him.” he responds.

i think he recognizes you before you recognize him

“you’re y/n, right? crime hunter?”

“you could say that.”

“we aren’t so different you know..”

“we are incredibly different. i don’t kill for sport.”

“you still kill, though.”

you’re so pissed off because he kind of has a point

oh and that emotionless stupid little face of his pisses you off even more

it’s all love we know i love illumi

illumi’s bloodlust is out of control at this point, your interaction with him just increased that

“what are you going to do? kill me?”

“no. it doesn’t benefit me now does it?”

“what do you want from me illumi?”

“ a deal.”

somehow he ropes you into helping him on missions as long as it corresponds with your own morals

i think the moment he realizes he’s in love with you is when you explain morality to him

like obviously he has no idea wtf good morals are lmao

you act as his therapist in a way, comforting him about his past and telling him that his bad actions don’t make him a bad person, just a person who used to do bad things

sorry guys i love soft illumi, and i genuinely think he has the capability to be good

one day he breaks down after a mission, and he is so embarrassed that you’re the first person he shows his deep, buried emotions to

you just hold him and comfort him, telling him its not his fault

after that he doesn’t want to talk to you because he’s embarrassed

“i think emotions make you a better assassin.”

“how does that make sense?”

“makes you think twice.”

and now he knows why killua loves gon so much.

h i s o k a

we already know this bitch is obsessed with you

probably keeps tabs on you to see what you’re up to

every headline involving you “taking down another lowlife” catches his attention so fast

he wants a fight so bad

so he creates a plan

commit a crime so terribly that they HAVE to send you to take him out

just another amazing idea from hisoka!

so he figures out who you’re working for, and kills someone close to them, obviously leaving behind a trace so they have somewhat of an idea as to who he is, but still making it a hunt

he probably leaves a star and tear behind, something that only those who knew him would recognize

and so he watches you hunt him while he hunts you

you’re asking anyone and everyone if they recognize the star and tear, most people either having no clue, or recognizing it but keeping quiet about it in fear of what hisoka would do

eventually, someone says they know a person who draws a star and tear on their face — hisoka morrow

once hisoka hears that you know his name he is absolutely ecstatic, he probably reveals himself to you right after

“it has been so fun watching you search for me.”

“if you knew i was looking, why be a coward and hide?”

“there’s no fun if there’s no chase, darling.”

you guys battle it out, i imagine the fight is very close, but evidently you just can’t keep up with him

“you put up a beautiful fight…hmm, perhaps i’ll let you survive if you join me?”

out of breath and on the brink of death, he assumes you’re saying no

right as he goes for the finishing blow, you hold your hands up, and whisper through a mouth full of blood a small “i’ll do it.”

he has a huge grin on his face, so excited to have successfully “corrupted” you

sorry y’all added a little corruption kink in their my b

once he takes you to machi so she can heal you, you both go on ur little killing ppl missions together cos what else does hisoka do lol

he realizes he’s in love once you finish someone off, a crazed look in your eyes, smile on display, covered in blood.

“you’ve never looked as beautiful as you do now.”

you and hisoka’s love is weird. but it’s intense, and it is real. just not...normal.

you guys are crazy killers, but it works

he probably draws a star and tear on you just so u guys can match

after u.. murder people <3

yandere reader vibes sorry

c h r o l l o

for this, we are going to assume that you are the “weakest” link of the crime hunter agency

so they make you the bait

sorry i just want to cover all of our bases

you definitely have a lot of potential, you are just incredibly clumsy, and taking down the phantom troupe is something that requires plenty of people on the job

chrollo already knows you’re a crime hunter when he “runs into you” at a bar, as well as the fact that you aren’t working alone

but he entertains you, just because he’s bored lol

i can already picture you being caught off guard by how handsome chrollo is, because honestly im sorry who wouldn’t be

you kind of even forget you’re there on a job

but, when chrollo asks if you know about nen and what type of nen you use, you quickly remember why you’re there

you smile, “yes, i’m a specialist.”

he asks you to show him, but you decline

“i will lose it if i do.”

chrollo smirks, “smart girl.”

with that, you feel a sharp pain on the side closest to chrollo, and everything goes dark as you tumble into his arms

once you wake up, all the spiders surround you, chrollo in the center

“caught in the web.” you say, as chrollo’s eyes lighten up.

“precisely.”

“is there any way to escape a spider’s web?”

“prove to be worthy.”

there he went again, begging to see your nen so he could steal it

but just because you were thought to be the weakest link, didn’t mean it was true

“i mean, you’re looking at it right now.”

the troupe stares in confusion, and before chrollo can respond, one of the spiders falls to the ground, beheaded. (i can’t pick who so just pretend its ur least favorite <3)

the spiders stand there in shock

there were two of you.

the real you, free and unbounded, makes the clone disappear

“you said you were a specialist, but this seems to be a conjurer technique?”

“the speciality is that you can’t steal it. it isn’t exactly nen.”

this is the first time someone’s caught chrollo off guard, he has no idea what to do, i mean how did he know that this you wasn't a clone?

“now, i’ve heard once a leg is missing, there needs to be a replacement. what does the head think?”

you weren’t just a crime hunter, you were a double agent who wanted in on the phantom troupe

the moment chrollo realized your abilities weren’t nen, i think that’s when he fell in love

hear me out

he knows he’s going to be indebted to you forever

and we all know those books he reads...mf is a hopeless romantic who if in love, pretty much is absolutely obsessed

and boy is he obsessed already

of course, he is unable to steal it from you which is quite a drag

but, with you there, and your undiscovered abilities, the phantom troupe was basically unbeatable

something he wanted so badly

“welcome to the troupe number ___.” (once again i can’t decide who LOL you guys can pick)

you protect him and he protects you.

if any of the troupe questions you and your decisions, he defends you so fast

eventually the troupe is referred to as “a spider with two heads”

kinda cute, kinda funky fresh name for thieves and murderers<3 at least u guys r passionately in love <3

i hope this was good!! im kind of rusty so sorry :( im finishing up some other requests, and im thinking of crossposting a fic on here and on ao3, inspired by my dr strange/hxh hcs :) but requests are still open! guidelines right here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ thank you to everyone who shows love to my posts!

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh hcs #adultrio hcs #adultrio x reader #hisoka x reader #chrollo x reader #illumi x reader #hisoka hc #chrollo hc #illumi hc

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crispycrimebrulee · 3 years

Text

🎄25 Days of HXH: Day 3: Knuckle x Wishes🎄

A/N: The song listed is from my favorite Christmas movie, The Polar Express. For some reason it makes me super emotional.

The snow crunched under your feet, occasionally kicking up thin ice sheets that had frosted over the snow, cracking and popping beneath your steps. Stooping down, you wiggled your fingers under the thin sheet, gently tugging a chunk loose. Turning to Knuckle, you handed it to him, watching him gently take it and tap it, only for a piece to crack off and fall, much to his slight dismay. He then stooped down as well, attempting to take a new chunk like you’d done moments earlier. He managed to take one and gingerly placed it in your hands. He looked proud of himself for obtaining a sizable chunk, grinning at you. You popped it between your thumbs, placing the broken pieces over each other and continuously popping them until you had tiny glass like bits in your hands, letting them fall into the snow. Taking Knuckles hand, you continued on through the park, admiring the winter wonderland while it was still here. Believe by Josh Groban

Taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow @lifescreams27 @twistedsmth @some-weeb-chick @dukinaxael @errorpeachy @demon-hugger @my-child-gaara @absolute-flaming-trash @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes

Knuckle had asked you to accompany him to the park, embarrassed by Shoot teasing him about wanting to admire the park in its snowy, Christmas decorations, including teasing about being so excited about the Christmas season. In truth, Knuckle rarely got to do anything fun that was Christmas related. It wasn’t because he was working, but because he’s never worked up the courage to go and see things himself. Between Shoot teasing him about his secret affinity for Christmas and genuinely feeling silly to have such a child like feeling towards it, he shied away from participating in the season, other than purchasing gifts for his friends. His family rarely did anything fantastic for the season either, despite him being so enthralled by all the lights and the spectacle of it all. He’d always watched from a distance, and he’d only mentioned a snippet of that revelation and fact to you, causing you to nearly lose your mind, him not having done so much as make a snow angel or make cookies. There was so much more to Christmas than gifts.

Seeing Knuckle quietly mess around with the snow, attempting to make a perfect snowball, hitting the icicles off the tree branches or simply making tons of snow fall from the trees was quite the sight, because the simplest things seemed to spark something in him. Knuckle had made another snowball, walking towards a tree just before chucking the snowball at it.

That was quite the mistake on his part.

The snow from the branches came crashing down, landing on top of him.

You doubled over in laughter as you made your way over to help him as he slowly got up, looking dazed and slightly cold. You brushed snow off his hair and shoulders, taking care to gently rub his rosy cheeks, trying to make sure his face didn’t get too cold.

“You were too close, sweetheart” you laughed, taking care to gently rub snow from his lashes.

“I didn’t think I was that close…” Knuckled looked up, finally taking note of the branches directly above him.

“Are you alright though? Did any snow get in your jacket?” checking him over, trying to sweep snow out of the hood on his jacket.

“A little bit, but I’m alright, thank you.” Knuckle reassured, blushing at you fussing over him.

Continuing on with him in the park, you arrived at the center, an open ice skating rink filled with people, mostly couples, skating away in small circles, holding each other. Glances at Knuckle, he was completely taken by this, his eyes flashing from couple to couple, watching them hold each other and their movements, slightly in sync as they would keep each other from falling...or falling all over each other.

You giggled, for every time you caught him admiring something, his eyes would glow, that special glow that’s only found when something strikes a chord in someone's heart, setting their soul on fire.

“Do you want to go ice skating some time, Knuckle?” you nudged him, gesturing to the couples on the rink.

“We don’t have to, I was just watching-” he had panic and embarrassment in his voice, peeling his eyes away from the rink.

“You don’t have to be shy about it. If you want to go, we can go!” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I would rather not force you, y/n…” looking away from you as he began fiddling with his hair gently.

“I’d love to go with you, Knuckle. It’s not a problem.”

His eyes met yours, full of excitement as he grinned. He nodded with such enthusiasm and force, you were afraid he’d hurt his neck.

You squeezed his hand and kept walking as he went back to absently watch the people on the rink.

“I’ve never been ice skating before, although I doubt I’ll be good at it.” Knuckle mused, letting out a nervous huff.

“Well that’s alright! I still get to spend time with you, so it works out!” poking his cheek, looking at him.

He gasped a little, his cheeks burning red with your casual statement.

“Thank you, y/n...for all this!” he waved his hand around, gesturing to the trees and snow.

“For...the...park?” you asked, tilting your head.

“No for doing all this with me. I’ve wanted to do stuff like this for so long but…” he trailed off, his eyes suddenly looking distant.

“Of course I’d do this with you. Why wouldn’t I?” looking at him, trying to read him.

“Because I’m too old…?” sounding more like a question than an answer.

You squinted at him, absolutely incredulous. Too old? Too old? Was there an age limit on Christmas activities?

“What does that even mean?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“You know...all the Christmas stuff. I was younger and I always wanted to do it, but I never got the chance.” his eyes looked glazed over as he was lost in thought, lost in memories of dreams long forgotten. “I wished a whole lot that I’d get to do it eventually but I just got older, and people told me I’m too old and...yeah.”

“Knuckle, honey.”

“Yeah?”

“You aren’t even 30 yet. Even then, that doesn’t stop you from enjoying Christmas.” you rubbed his knuckles gently, your heart melting from seeing the look in his eyes. It was a lonely look, a look deprived of a joy that everyone should feel at least once in their life.

“I know! I still want to do it! I do! But it feels so silly sometimes, so childish.” his voice sounded angry, on the edge of falling apart.

You moved your hand to his back, quietly rubbing it as you spoke.

“It’s not childish, it’s different. It’s…special. A Christmas thing, really...I don’t know how to explain but you’ll get it…”

Knuckle sighed, looking distant as he quietly kicked at the snow, nudging the ice sheets with the tip of his boot. He didn’t answer you, just kept walking, his eyes still somber.

“I’m taking you out tonight, Knuckle.” you said, planning something quietly. Whether or not it would work, you had no idea.

“Eh? Where?!” he looked at you, excited again, forgetting the previous conversation.

“Can’t tell you that silly. It’s a surprise~” laughing at him as he pouted.

You squeeze his arm, and he pokes and prods at you, trying to get the surprise out of you. For the rest of the walk, all he did was try to figure out just where you were taking him later.

Later that night, around 8pm, you told Knuckle to get ready, since it was time to bring him out again for his surprise. Hearing that, he nearly hurt himself in excitement putting his jacket and scarf on, his questions flying out a mile a minute, once again trying to figure it out.

Once you were ready, you laced your fingers in his and walked out into the streets, making your way to the city.

Upon entering the city, Knuckle couldn’t hide his pure awe, taking in the city. Cities with skyscrapers and busy streets always had a starstruck type appeal during Christmas. The lights on display in a city were always dazzling, the city holding no punches in putting on a show with the lights and decorations. Cities always had an extra air of love and giving during the holiday season, its inhabitants carrying the atmosphere from person to person. Little pop up shops and carolers were on every corner, so a surprise would be always somewhere for you to find. Knuckles eyes couldn’t stay in one place, flitting from one scene to the next, a smile making its way to his lips, and you could see him falling in love with the city Christmas scene.

Gently tugging at him, you pointed out little things to him, like the horse drawn carriage (which he gushed about for 20 minutes, begging you to please go with him, to which of course, you obliged because, how could you not?), and to a little shop on the corner of a street, to which he sheepishly bought a Christmas hat (claiming it was for Morel). You both stopped again after some time to get hot chocolate with a candy cane, which sent Knuckle into a tizzy about mixing hot cocoa with a candy cane, how it was smart and delicious all at the same time. He placed a donation in a donation bucket, absolutely falling apart at the thought of people suffering at a time like this, and in general, but especially during the holidays. Eventually, the two of you got to your destination.

Knuckle was speechless.

You’d brought him to a wishing tree, a giant Christmas tree in the center of the city, and it reached the height of some of the office buildings surrounding it, suggesting it to be hundreds of feet tall. As scary as the height of this tree was, it was the decorations that’d clearly caught Knuckle’s eyes. The lights and ornaments traveled up the entire tree, stopping at a massive star on the top, sparkling and glowing. There were gifts beneath the tree as well, hundreds if not thousands of boxes. There was a glow in Knuckle’s eyes as well, completely taken by the sight of this tree.

“This tree is…” clearly none of the words he was thinking of couldn’t fit, as he fell into a smile, grinning from ear to ear as he shuffled up to the tree, taking a better look at it.

His brows furrowed, running his fingers over a small envelope stuck to the tree. He flipped it over only to find that it’s sealed with a small stamp as he ran his fingers over it. He inspected a few more, finding the same thing continuously.

“What’re all these cards for?” he turned to you, holding up a card.

“It’s a wishing tree!” walking over to him, gazing at the tree. “You write your wish on a card and seal it, put it on the tree and it comes true!”

Knuckle’s eyes lit up again as he took note of the hundreds of cards all over the tree.

“Can...can I write one…?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“Of course, hun. That’s why I brought you here. I figured you’d get to make your wishes come true.” you smiled at him as he stared at you.

He blinked and immediately flushed red, hiding his face in his scarf.

Walking over to a small table, he took a card as you followed suit, taking a card as well. You scribbled something, thinking about a good wish. Finishing, you looked at Knuckle, his face deep in concentration as he slowly wrote out a wish, clearly taking this to heart. Handing it to the person at the table, they sealed it and stuck it to the tree, waving to you as you walked off.

Stopping in front of the tree again, you nudged Knuckle.

“Sooooooo what’d ya wriiiiiiiiiiite?” poking at his side.

“I can’t tell you that!” he pouted, squinting at you, “It won’t come true if I tell you!”

“Can I get a hint?” asking again, batting your lashes at him.

“No way!” turning his nose up. However, he glanced at you, pursed his lips and sighed.

“You’re on the card…” he muttered, seeming upset with himself for giving you a hint.

“You wished...for me?

“No! Well, sort of, but that’s all you’re getting.” his resolve is strong, looking at you.

You stopped and stood in front of him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling him turn to putty in your arms. A soft kiss, gentle and warm, with a hint of sweet peppermint from earlier. You attempted to pull away but he pulled you back, his lips feeling desperate, wanting you closer for longer.

You finally pulled away, letting your gaze slowly meet his, his eyes hazy and soft.

He spoke first, his voice low and sweet.

“That Christmas feeling...you told me about…”

“Yeah?” you nodded slowly, wondering if he truly got it.

“Yeah.” he nodded in return, making you smile.

You took his hand, continuing your adventure through the city.

And it’s this feeling, the feeling of your heart swelling, full of an emotion that really has no name. A feeling of Christmas that’s universal in the hearts of children and those with love left to give. The feeling when the city’s lights look particularly beautiful, dazzlingly bright, only second to the sparkle of pure awe in the eyes of those that still dream. The feeling of waking up late one morning, seeing the world graced by fresh snow, sparkling in the late morning sun and being unable to keep a smile from gracing your face, overwhelmed with excitement in anticipation to play in the snow with friends. Maybe it’s the feeling of happiness in baking cookies with those you love, stealing bits of cookie dough, only to be far more enraptured by fresh baked cookies and hot chocolate, adding just a bit too many marshmallows to the mix. It could be singing your favorite Christmas songs with friends, letting them take you back to Christmas’ that have passed, memories nearly long forgotten, only to bubble to the surface listening to overplayed Christmas classics. Is it the scents of Christmas? Peppermint and myrrh, frankincense or the smell of sugar cookies and cozy, sweet aromas floating around, making you hungry yet in need of a good nap. Everyone will say the feeling of Christmas, the emotions of it all is caused by something different, and there is no universal correct answer, only the agreement that the feeling exists and that it’s powerful. The feeling of dreamers, believers and those with hearts full of hope, hope that refuses to die. The feeling of being young, innocent and full of life, still awestruck by the wonders of the world that are so large and staggering to those who can still believe in magic. And sure, the feeling fades away after New Years, the realities of life slowly crawling back, shaking the feeling of hope and wonder from hearts that truly need it. Maybe that’s a blessing of the Christmas season, reminding people that hope and wonder and love still exists.

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turtletimewriting · 4 years

Text

Bonding

Summary: A soulmate au’s perspective on tickling!

Note: A tickle fic if you couldn’t guess! Also, still somewhat new to writing for Sanders Sides so prepare for some shoddiness haha!

_._._

Virgil woke up feeling his chest almost glowing with emotion. A warmth that settled in front of his ribs that made his eyes flutter open and a smile naturally curl on to his face. The quiet warmth tried its hardest to lull him into sleep again but his slowly wakening mind was starting to ask questions. What were the others doing that meant they was radiating with happiness?

He had stumbled upon his soulmates just a little under sixth months ago. Tracking down soulmates had always felt like an impossible task. Hell, it took years before he even realised that he had three of them! Feeling their emotions obviously doesn’t make them easy to find- he could be having the happiest day of his life but that wouldn’t mean he’d be dancing down the streets or smiling proudly. He had found Patton first. He suspected him when they were partnered together for a project at work. The sinking heavy feeling in his chest to the rapid glow of excitement matched Patton’s expression when the project was announced and then when he realised that Virgil was his partner. Thankfully, Patton had found his other soulmates and so saved Virgil the heart attacks of trying to find the others.

Virgil slowly and quietly crept out of their guest bedroom and peered through the stairs. He wasn’t surprised by the sight of them all piled on top of each other, like a bunch of spilt over kittens, it was a familiar sight. The surprise was the frantic laughter.

Logan’s laugh was distinct. It was somehow both squeaky but also bellowing loud. Like he was throwing his whole self into his laugh. Roman was laying across him and was giving him the most sickening love sick eyes to his upturned laughing face. Roman’s hands were squeezing his sides leisurely, squeezing followed by quick poking. Patton was lying underneath Logan but his hands still had access to his armpits and occasionally his neck.

“Rohohoho-Romaaaaanahahaha!” He uselessly cried out but his flailing hands never seemed to push Roman away. Patton never even faced any opposition. He was free to tickle away at whatever was free to him.

“What, Specs? I’m right here! No need to yell, what do you want?”

“I bet he needs some more tickles! Look! He’s not even blushing that much, he definitely needs some more tickly tickly tickles!” Patton squeaked with his own giggles escaping.

“No no nahaa! Hahahaha, tickleeeeehehehehahahaha!”

“So what’s going on here?” Virgil smirked as he dramatically leaned over the stair banister as he menacingly tapped his fingers. He couldn’t help but huff a laugh when all three heads immediately whipped round to face him.

That laugh quickly died though when he felt that warmth in his chest freeze over. It was now sharp and settled into a dull ache. Three sets of dread, fear and worry.

“Woah, wait. I didn't interrupt anything did I?”

“No! We just didn't expect you to be up yet,” Patton chuckled as he looked over at the others.

“Yeah! You’re up! Like, before ten o’ clock? I’m honestly impressed!” Roman gasped as he flounced off the sofa and approached him. “What’s the special occasion? Big plans for the day?”

“Roman,” Logan warned as he sat back up while scrubbing at his mused up hair. His face burned red already but he felt extra squirmy at the thought to having this conversation without any planning or prep. They were going to have this conversation at some point! When Logan had carefully constructed a script! But he had to do it now. He could feel Virgil’s anxiety. The familiar burn had erupted into an all consuming fire. If they tried to hide this away then Virgil would only just spiral.

All this worry caused by tickling. This was just illogical.

“Virgil, don’t worry. I... have a particular fondness for t-tic... tickling. For some unknown reason!” Logan grimaced as he spoke, that was immediately unclear, unspecific and defensive. His mind scrambled for more words before reviewing them, “But, Patton and Roman also revealed that they shared this fondness and so it’s been present within our relationship for a while,”

“Oh,” Virgil hummed with a sickly sweet tone. His own thoughts racing with a small glow of anticipating excitement.

“We didn’t hide it from you for any reason! We just know that some people can find this weird... We know you wanted to go slow,” Patton smiled as he stood up and walked up to Virgil. He gently held his hands.

“You all shouldn’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry that you felt the need to hide that! You shouldn’t have to hide parts of yo-”

“No! Virgil, none of us are wording this adequately. We were embarrassed, yes. And that’s why we hid this. Not because we didn’t trust you or because you gave us reason not to. This is a problem on us. Not you.”

“Ok. Ok, thanks for telling me that. Even though I kinda just walked into it. I-I don’t have a problem with... that.” Virgil hinted.

The room seemed to stop as they all took a deeper breath. Virgil’s fiery intense anxiety settled back into a smaller burn like normal. The others’ emotions had settled back into a normal neutral presence.

“So... does this mean you want to help us tickle Logan to pieces?” Roman cheered.

Logan squeaked but sat still as Virgil rigidly sat down beside him. He slowly reached his hands out as if Logan was going to flinch away but seeing no complaints... Virgil broke out into an evil smirk.

That same rigid worry wasn’t present at all the second his hands reached his ribs. Logan didn’t have much time to think about that though as Roman quickly followed his lead. Virgil skittering all over his ribs and Roman’s squeezing thigh tickles only felt all the worse when Patton’s whispered teases joined the lot.

After thoroughly tickling Logan to pieces, the others got up to finally start breakfast while Logan was left frantically giggling on the sofa. The others were practically glowing with the brand new intense warmth and happiness nestling in their chests. “So is Logan the only lee?” Virgil asked as he finally sat down at the table.

“Oh, I think we all tend to switch,” Roman responded without too much thought but the other two had frozen in their tasks.

“Wait, you know what a lee is!” Patton squealed. Logan himself was standing with his own powerful evil smirk. Virgil was now frozen himself. He wanted to hint at just how fine he was with their... fondness. But he never wanted to outright say it!

“Uh...”

“Unless you absolutely don’t want this, I would encourage you to flee,” Logan smirked before running up to the table.

“Too late!” Roman cheered as he caught Virgil round his middle before he could even flee from the table. His immediately curled his fingers into his sides. Smiling wider when Virgil’s excited anticipation blossom in chest. Excitement! Logan leaned down at them and tauntingly raised his wiggling fingers to Virgil’s tummy.

Once they touched down, Virgil tried his best to school his expression into something resembling nonchalance. But... it had been awhile since he was last tickled and he had forgotten what it felt like. He immediately squealed and so the dam broke instantly. Logan’s fingers danced gracefully over his tummy leaving trails of tickly tingles. It felt like the longer he tickled, the more tickles Virgil had to just take.

“Logaahahahaha! Ahahehehehaahaha! Rohohoahahahaha!” Virgil simply folded in half as if that would protect his tickly tummy but Roman kept him balanced upright.

“Aww Virgie-poo! Are you a little lee yourself? A little tickle craving lee! Oh, if only we knew earlier! You deserve all the tickles you can take! All of the tickly tickly tickles! Soft tickles, hard tickles, feather tickles, tummy tickles...” Patton cooed from the kitchen while keeping an eye on the eggs. What, someone has to be responsible and make breakfast!

Virgil had yet to put on his make up and so his blush was on full display. His rarely heard laugh rang and echoed through the house. But his laughter had a wheezy quality. Plus, he was barely awake as it was. They couldn’t really tickle him for long.

“How about this! If you admit where you fit into the tickle community, we’ll free you!” Roman cooed as he pulled Virgil into his lap as he sat down himself. Logan caught on and slowed his tickling down to simple tracing around his belly button through his pyjama shirt. Like he was playing a silent game of round and round the garden.

“Eheheheeeee! Noooooo!” Virgil now started to flail but he knew that no judgement would come from his newly revealed switch boyfriends, “Ehehahahaha, I’mmmahehehehe a leeeee I think hehehehe!”

And it was since that morning that their relationship evolved to be a lot more tickly.

The switch comment Roman had made was quickly debunked. Patton and Logan were typically the lers of the household with Roman and Virgil lees for most of the time. Logan and Patton were both comfortably switches but they were more often than not the ticklers thanks to how tickle hungry Roman and Virgil typically were. Not that Virgil and Roman didn’t get their fair share of revenge! But... it was usually them who would start not so obviously hinting for tickles.

But their soul link and their new tickling was going to drive Virgil insane.

If he felt his chest explode in playful dancing warmth then he knew that he should run and hide. That special feeling belonged to Patton alone. For when he was in the most evil tickle monster mode. Any time he felt that emotion, it would soon be followed by someone’s frantic bursting laughter. Sometimes it lingered until Patton would give in and hunt someone. Sometimes it would erupt suddenly. Like if he saw Virgil standing on his tip toes with his arms outstretched to reach the highest cupboard. Or if he saw Logan sitting with his feet resting on the coffee table which no one was allowed to have their feet on. Both times, neither one could react to the emotion quick enough before they felt the tickle attack.

He was walking home while failing to hide his wobbly smiley. That same playfulness had been shining for the past half an hour. And none of the others were home.

Meaning Virgil was walking home to a frustrated Ler who’s been wanting to tickle someone for the past half an hour...

And Patton famously preferred to tickle Virgil.

Even just that soul link emotion was enough to have Virgil practically giggling down the streets. That feeling was becoming worse than any whispered tickly teases. He couldn’t school his expression so this was made all the worse because that meant Patton and the others could also feel that Virgil was in a lee mood. Virgil’s excited anticipating lee moods felt like a mix between his anxious burn and the most joyous warmth. The others were all smiling knowing that his lee mood started shortly after Patton’s ler mood started.

Patton had harnessed all the patience in the world to stop himself from immediately attacking Virgil as he walked in. He waited carefully ducked behind the living room door and as his lee walked through with a confused frown. Then he struck!

“Pat? I’m back- oh goaahhahahahahahAHAHAAAA!” Patton’s hands latched on to his sides to then guide him to the sofa.

“Hey Virge! Sorry but Patton’s not here right now, guess who’s here in his place though?”

“PAAAATTON! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! No! You’reeehahahAHAHAA you’re ahaha! You’re not ahahahahaha! Patton!” Virgil threw his head back once he was sat on the sofa. Patton was now just holding his sides with a teasy grin! The gentle pressure enough to spark endless giggles.

“No guesses? I’m not who? You can’t even say my name? My name is...” Patton leaned down close and Virgil flinched anticipating neck tickles, “My name is the tickle monster!”

In a flash, he turned around to Virgil’s socked feet. His ultimate tickle spot! And boy did it look like they needed some good old tickles after such a long day at work.

Virgil desperately curled up but was blocked by Patton’s back. It almost looked like Virgil was cuddling into him as thanks for the tickle monster’s tickles scuttling over his soles. Patton was just tickling over his socks but it felt just as bad as bare soles.

“PAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAA! NOOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHA!”

Roman and Logan had to spend the next hour awkwardly avoiding their co-workers questions about their own proud wobbly smiles. Their soul link was bursting with such joyful happiness.

#ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #tickling #tickle community #fanfic #Turtle writing #fluff #lee virgil #ler patton

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burgerkang000 · 3 years

Text

Who needs a soulmate?

also this is a wooyoung fic

yes, ill be adding the read more thingy

@beyoncesdragon @aixy-hpsa (if anyone else wanna be tagged, tell me )

enjoy? :/

THIS FIC IS BEARABLE BECAUSE OF @mingination so, actually most of my fics are bearable cuz of her so uhm go hype her up?

In a world where soul mates exist, your soul found amity whenever you were with Jung Wooyoung. You always thought people had soul mates because it brings peace to their souls. You thought it exists because when two people were together; their souls go on an adventure, an adventure that was never the same for a pair, or even a trio of people.

But all that changed when you met Wooyoung. It happened when you were dragged outside by your friend, because you tend to hole up in the dorms. As she was dragging you to her car, you bumped into a stranger holding a house plant, the glass pot shattered and the soil scattered, making quite a mess.

“Ah, that hadn’t had set yet.” The stranger exclaimed. You had no idea why he was so calm about it as you expected him to lash out any moment, but instead he smiled at you, displaying his beautiful pearly white teeth and told you not to worry about it.

You stared at him dumbly as he tries to pick up the shattered glass, and that’s when you decide to speak up.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You kneel down to help him with the glass all the while expressing how sorry you are, and rush up to your room to grab cleaning supplies to clean the soil. After the both of you cleaned up the mess, you offered to go plant shopping with him, to pay back for the one you clumsily broke.

Of course, he refused, but you insisted and he gave in.

Your friend had seemed to leave, leaving you to make small talk with the stranger.

Later that night, you shrieked at your friend for leaving you alone with the handsome stranger and she laughed it off leaving you absolutely furious.

The day that you had planned to go to the greenhouse, Woo contacted you and said that there was a change of plans, you were confused but agreed anyway. But you were a little surprised when he took you to the flower shop, where the enthusiastic florist explained the meaning behind all the flowers Woo had picked. You had enjoyed yourself very much that day, surrounded by the scent of different flowers and the rays of sunshine that had brought a specific kind of warmth to the store, even though this was going to burn your savings for a good whole month and you’d have to stick to ramen if you wanted to pay rent for the shared college dorm you were in. When you were done picking flowers, Woo ended up paying, saying that your company was enough as a payback for breaking his plant.

Before he dropped you off at your dorm, you were shocked when he handed you the flowers he bought and your eyes widened as he leaned in closer to leave a soft kiss on your cheek and whispered to look forward to his texts. As he left you stood there dumbly, blushing profusely and unable to comprehend what just happened. And that night you went to bed with a smile on your face, sniffing the flowers which now were placed on your bedside table.

That was how it started; now you have a theory on what soul mates are; they’re people who were created to be perfectly adaptable to you, but the chances you find them were 0%, except for the few people who would search everywhere for their soulmates and find them. You’ll never meet your soul mate in this world or the next one, because there is a definition of perfect for the universe, but everyone else’s definition of perfect is different.

And even if you do meet your soulmate, there is no guarantee that they’re the one for you, since the universe is changing. And it’s about time it changes the rules set for humans.

You find amenity when you’re with Jung Wooyoung and that’s all the reassurance you need.

Even though your theory has helped ease (like the tiniest bit) of your frustration over the resounding problem which was, what if Woo finds his soulmate? The thought of that suffocates you; you turn into a human zombie pondering through assumptions, and possibilities. Until one day Woo sits you down and asks what’s wrong.

“What would you do if you find your soulmate?” you ask quietly. He shakes his head, conveying silently that your worries are unnecessary or maybe he’s disappointed in you for thinking things like that, but it’s not like you can help it.

“I’d tell them, no thank you, I have a lovely girlfriend who wants the universe to change its rules and I stand by it.”

You lightly hit his arm and huff out a laugh.

“I’m serious”

“I’m Wooyoung”

‘’I’m sick of your bad jokes” and as you get up to leave, he pushes you back down, places a hand under your chin and says-

“I won’t leave you for the fucking world. You hear that?”

After a few weeks of dating and becoming official, Woo took you to visit his friends, who were the reason you met in the first place, the innocent plant was asked to be delivered by one of his friends, you needed to thank them, since the plant was long gone.

And, you’ve heard a lot about his seven friends, who share an apartment house, with four rooms. When you were led inside, you were attacked with greetings, compliments and questions; you tried to reply to all of them, you really did. They were more intimidating in the beginning, but now you wonder what was it about them that made you feel that way.

Jongho was a person you would always avoid, you were mostly shy (read: terrified) of him. But one day you were eating an apple, and he wanted to show you a trick. And you were beyond shocked when he just broke it into two halves with his bare hands. And every day after that, you’d bring an apple when you feel like it, and pass it to Jongho and tell something utterly ridiculous like

The cat ate my knife

I’m too broke to buy a knife

It’s banned to cut apples with knives; I heard it on the news

And he would roll his eyes and do it for you anyways.

Once you handed him a melon, and you were surprised that he attempted to break it open. He banged it on the table twice and glared at you for making him look weak; you ran as he chased you around with a melon.

Seonghwa was your favourite. He’d come over, be annoyed at the mess you and Woo made and then proceed to clean it up. But all jokes aside, you really liked Seonghwa, and he does laundry too!

Hongjoong, you assumed would be very authoritative, was actually an adorable goofball. And you enjoyed teasing him about his height.

Yunho along with Mingi were the dorky and mischievous pair, and always managed to earn a yell from Seonghwa for dirtying the place with their ridiculous pranks.

Yeosang, who was Wooyoung’s friend for over 5 years, appeared to be a very quiet person and somewhat normal compared to the others. That's what most people would think anyways, but once he opens his mouth you’d regret ever calling him quiet. The guy knew how to expose people better than Dispatch did.

San, now San you have beef with.

Because he takes Woo away from you, and you keep on complaining to no one in particular-

“This is not fair-” you ramble off

“Look I’m only helping, it’s for the greater good-“

“Oh? What would that be?” you shot.

“Woo, likes it when you get all jealous”

Your cheeks heat up and then you angrily look at Woo who shrugs and says “I didn’t say a thing”

You storm out the room and hear something along the lines of

“He also likes it when you get all hot headed; I’m helping you get laid, your welcome….”

You and Woo have fights too, But you have an unspoken, but definitely existing rule; communication. Sure, there might be couples out there who can guess what the other person is feeling, or what the other person wants-

But for you and Woo, communication is key and you like it that way.

It’s impossible to wake Woo on Sundays, so you have taken the matter into your own hands.

Despite being adults who have different jobs and no longer go to school, you aggressively shake him and yell

“Woo, time for school, you missed the bus, wake up”

“There’s a fire, the cat is dying”

“I love you”

You were the first one to put it out there. You just blurted it out one night, lying in bed, when you were lying next to each other, hands intertwined in between you both, just staring and outlining each other with your eyes. You were ready to drive off the nearest cliff when-

“It’s obvious I do too, no words necessary”

You were suddenly embarrassed and rolled over to the other side to hide the colour of your cheeks, yanking your hand away and muttering-

“Great or else you can find me at the bottom of a cliff with your damaged car.”

“Didn’t know your life was on the line”, he says back hugging you and grabbing your hand back.

“It’s clearly an exaggeration, dumbass”

He chuckles and both of you fall into a silence of nothing but the sound of your breathing and the clock ticking. And right when you were almost asleep, you hear him mutter I love you, I love you, I love you and press a kiss to the side of your head before pulling you closer and tightening his hold around you.

You think you’ve never felt more content, sharing a complex emotion, which is filled with other complex emotions and being understood, it was profound to be understood.

Who needs a soul mate, you’ve got Jung Wooyoung and that was more than enough for you.

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kravchikfreak · 4 years

Text

chained by one pain

relationship: Amaya/Janai

summary: The Dragon Queen hospitably allows the rescuers of her son and herself to rest and spend the night in the rooms of her personal guards after the victory over the army of mutants. And there is one question that Janai just has to ask.

a/n: many thanks to @linguini17 for betaing

2,4K words; AO3

Janai can’t fall asleep. She closes her eyes, but instead of relaxing she only feels waves of worry and anxiety. Thoughts fill her mind, bright, but absolutely meaningless pictures flash before her eyes. Nevertheless, they don’t become less disturbing because of this.

There has been quiet in the cave for a long time, with only the occasional slight howl of wind running through the corridors or slipping into the gap under a heavy stone door. Janai takes another twenty seven seconds to try to fall asleep, but after this she eventually gives up. Pulling back the blanket, she lowers her legs to the cold floor. As if she needed an extra stimulus to stay awake. She quickly puts on her shoes and throws the blanket over her shoulders before finally leaving her room.

It’s cold in the corridor because of the passing wind, and Janai is immediately glad she decided to bring along an additional warming layer. She tries to step as quietly as possible, hardly touching the floor with the heels of her shoes, and listens to silence to make sure that no one’s dream has been disturbed by her movement. There’s still silence behind the doors, except behind the one where Soren seems to have settled, where there’s a muffled, agitated muttering. Janai wrinkles at the thought about what this boy had to survive today. Even if in the end it turned out to be just an illusion, he still has to live the rest of his life with the memories of how he pierced the heart of his own father. Talking about the incident, the boy acted as bravely as he could, putting a smile on his face and trying to sound cheerful, but he still couldn’t deceive her. And now, passing by his room, Janai can’t help but wonder if nightmares torment him, and if he is living the tragic event again and again in the world of dreams. She barely keeps herself from checking on his well-being, greater worries pushing her onward.

She walks a few more steps before stopping at another door. It seems to be the one. At least, Janai hopes it is--she wouldn’t want to be wrong.

She awkwardly rocks on her heels and roughly sighs before finally gathering strength and raising a hand clenched into a fist.

“May I come in?" she asks quietly, leaning toward the door and rapping it with her knuckles a couple of times.

There is no answer, and Janai is about to leave, but for decency she knocks again. This is when she realizes.

Rolling her eyes in annoyance at herself, she gently pushes the door, opening it just enough to stick her head into the gap. The candle on the oak table is still not extinguished, the tongue of its flame dancing angrily from the wind coming through the ajar door. Either sensing a change in the lighting, or noticing the movement of the door out of the corner of her eye, Amaya, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and bowing her head, straightens and turns around, looking up at the uninvited guest.

“May I?” Janai repeats barely audible.

The volume of the question doesn’t matter, but she does her best to make her lip movements as clear as possible, and her eyebrows raised questioningly. Amaya seems to think for a second, and this second for some reason feels like forever to Janai. But Amaya finally briefly nods, and then suddenly, as if thinking more, twice claps her left palm on the bed next to her.

Janai squeezes through the door and hurriedly closes it, preventing the corridor air from further cooling the room and returning the candle fire to a more relaxed state. Despite the invitation, she is in no hurry, but stands at the entrance looking around the room for some time. It’s the same as hers: an oak table and bed, a chair in the corner of the room, a burning candle and a small drawer next to the bed. Unconsciously, her gaze clings to Amaya. She is wearing a light shirt, but she hasn’t taken off her shoes, so it’s hard to say if she was going to go to bed or go for a walk.

“Can’t sleep?” The answer is only a halfhearted shrug. “Busy day?”

Amaya doesn’t answer, just looks at her intently and then raises her eyebrow inquiringly. Her meaning is clear: this is not what you came here for. Janai sighs, shaking her head at the unspoken question. Indeed, it’s not.

Amaya’s hand is still resting on the bed next to her, but she removes it the moment she notices the look directed at it. Janai hesitates for a second, then eventually she pulls the chair a little closer to the bed and sits down. If Amaya has any thoughts on this, she doesn’t express them in any way, just continues to look at Janai in anticipation.

“Who was that?”

Amaya frowns and makes a hand gesture which Janai easily interprets as a confused “What?”. She repeats her question more slowly, to which Amaya nods and again asks “What?”. Janai takes a couple of seconds to realize what exactly is causing Amaya questions.

“You lost someone too, right?” A lingering pause, and then a tense nod. “Whom?”

Amaya purses her lips and lowers her gaze for a second, and then makes a few hand movements. The first Janai unmistakably recognizes as “my”, but further ones don’t make any sense to her. They seem to look familiar, but she has absolutely no idea about what they mean. It could be anything.

Suddenly, Janai realizes she’s made a terrible mistake. They left Lux Aurea in a hurry, and Kazi isn’t a warrior; Kazi could do more harm than good in this campaign, so they had to be left in the city. Just before leaving, Janai was able to learn a very small amount of the signs, and only ones that might be needed in their campaign. Janai doesn’t even regret that there is no interpreter nearby who would help her understand Amaya (because, if anything, Gren is with them now), she regrets that she didn’t have the patience to begin to understand her best before starting this conversation

Her emotions must be displayed on her face, because after a quick think Amaya starts to gesture instead of formally sign. She first points to Janai, then somewhere casually to the side, without even looking, and finally brings both palms to her temples, spreading her fingers up.

“Me and ...” Janai tries to guess.

Amaya nods satisfied and rests her palms against her temples again, moving her fingers a little, as if asking to give more attention to this gesture.

“A crown?” Janai hesitantly specifies and receives another nod. “Me and a crown? My crown? No? Someone’s crown? Ezran? Viren?”

Amaya shakes her head at first, and then begins to wave her arms, until Janai understands that she’s asked not to think further in that direction, and until she returns to the beginning.

“So, me and someone’s crown. It’s important, whose crown? The crown is more important, or the person to whom it belongs? What person?”

Amaya frowns, but only for a second, and then brings her thumb and forefinger to her ears and takes her hands back a little; she connects her fingers at a small distance from the ears.

“An elf? A crowned elf ... My queen?”

Amaya is clearly pleased by the fact she could explain herself, and she is hardly hiding it, while Janai somewhere in her chest begins to feel something stiring, something that seemed to be asleep for a while, but now it begins to wake up again. However, she isn’t allowed to concentrate on this feeling for a long time, again forced to closely monitor the movement of another’s hands. Amaya repeats three gestures, indicating Janai and the sunfire elf queen, then makes another sign and looks at Janai, waiting for her to solve this puzzle

“Sisters?” after seconds of thought, Janai suggests.

In response she gets a smile and she can’t help smiling back, feeling for some reason the extraordinary pride of her and Amaya, as if they had just accomplished the most grandiose feat in their lives. But the smile leaves her face the very second she realizes that this is the same sign that she didn’t understand in Amaya’s original answer.

“You’ve lost your sister too?”

A smile disappears from Amaya’s face as she nods briefly and looks away.

“I’m so sorry.”

They sit in silence for a while, and Janai doesn’t know what to say. That she understands her pain? This seems to be obvious now to both of them, and not just to Amaya. That she sympathizes with her loss? These words do not seem right. But frankly, no words seem right.

Amaya sighs and turns again in her direction. Realizing that her last words have remained “not heard” Janai repeats them. Amaya nods with a sad smile, as if saying “I know.” Of course she does. Because she is sorry too.

Janai stubbornly deniesher impulse for only a second before leaning forward, taking one of Amaya’s palms in her own and squeezing it tightly. For some reason, it seems to her that this is better than any words she could come up with. Amaya catches her gaze, covers her hands with other palm, and Janai doesn’t need any interpreters to feel silent gratitude.

“For how long?” she asks, and with her free hand Amaya shows her a palm with the thumb and forefinger touched. “Three years ago?”

Amaya shakes her head and gently releases her other hand. Feeling suddenly extremely embarrassed, Janai immediately pushes herself back, thinking that it would be strange to sit and wait until she gets this hand back. It seems that a chagrin flashes on Amaya’s face, but Janai can’t say for sure, because most of her attention is still focused on nine fingers spread out.

“Nine years?” A nod. “That’s quite a lot.” Another nod. “And... is it getting easier?”

Amaya waits for a second, as if trying to make sure that Janai looks exactly in her eyes and looks very attentively, and then slightly tightens her lips and firmly shakes her head.

However, Janai didn’t expect the opposite, but still her heart suddenly aches and an unpleasant lump comes up to her throat. But she still finds the strength in herself for a new question.

“Do you mind talking about this?” After some deliberation, Amaya lightly twitches her shoulder. “How did it happen?”

Amaya sits motionless for some time, slightly frowning, and Janai somehow likes the idea that she is trying to decide how best to express her thoughts not only in her own understanding, but also in a language accessible to them both. Finally, Amaya slightly shrugs again, and then brings forefinger and middle finger of her right hand to her face, pointing to her eyes, and shakes her head slightly.

“You haven’t seen this yourself?” Janai hesitantly assumes and feels the armth of self-satisfaction spreading over her body when she receives a nod as response. “Did someone tell you, did you hear from others?”

Amaya nods gloomily and lowers her head as if she is tired, hiding her gaze behind her bangs. However, Janai doesn’t have to see her eyes in order to know what is reflected in them. She doesn’t even notice herself when she gets up from the chair, takes a step closer, and then sits on the edge of the bed. Amaya doesn’t object, but doesn’t express active consent either. It seems like she doesn’t attach any importance to this at all, continuing to rest her elbows on her knees and not taking her eyes off the floor.

“I’m sorry.”

Janai doesn’t realize at first that she is speaking into the void again. She hesitates for only a split second, and then carefully touches Amaya’s shoulder, pressing it a little, forcing her to turn around and look at her, and then repeats.

“I’m sorry. For asking questions I don’t understand the answers to. But maybe you will tell me this story when I understand better? If, of course, you'll want to.”

Amaya looks into her eyes for agonizing seconds, as if trying to look into her very soul, and then finally allows herself to smile warmly and nod in agreement.

”It's probably even more painful,” Janai suddenly says, unexpectedly even to herself.

This time Amaya doesn't need an interrogative gesture, she is understood by confused look only. Janai turns away, trying to cope with the overwhelming feelings. She's almost ready to explain herself, but remembers in time that Amaya needs to see the movement of her lips in order to understand.

“Not to see,” she explains, turning back. “To find out from someone, not to be near, not to see the culprit, not to be able to change anything. To be late?”

Amaya's face reflects pain, letting Janai know that she has hit the target. Only this doesn’t make her feel any better herself, because maybe she saw, and the face of the guilty person will not be erased from her memory until the end of her days, she was still not there, she was still late and couldn’t change anything. She could not stop it, but only watched her sister disappear.

Janai looks away, unable any longer to look at Amaya's worried face, in which her pain is reflected as in the mirror. But she finds the strength not to turn her head so that her words are still not addressed to nowhere. Because she desperately needs to confess something.

“And for Soren, it’s already quite bad to realize that he killed his father, even if in fact he did no harm to him. But I still regret that it was just an illusion. I would like it to be for real, you know, no matter how traumatic it would be for Soren. It's horrible, right?”

The tears come too close, but somehow the eyes remain dry, only her voice trembles a little while Janai lets out this terrifying admission.

And then she feels a touch on her palm, and her fingers lean towards without her will, intertwining with Amaya's warm fingers, who is already turning to her with her whole body. Janai looks up, but can't stand the second of Amaya's compassionate eyes directed at her.

Tears burst out, and Janai hurries to hide this display of weakness, bending down and burying her nose into another's shoulder. She feels how the fingers squeezing her palm more tightly, how the other hand carefully lies on her neck, and how another’s shoulder trembles slightly, and is unlikely because of weight of her own head.

“Thank you for being there for me.”

#tdp fic #the dragon prince #amaya #janai #janaya #my fic

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phobiadeficient · 4 years

Note

somehow i cant find any "apicy" demosolly content.. do you think you could provide some?

i like demosolly a lot because it has the potential to be absolutely heart-wrenchingly sweet and also completely batshit crackheaded which is VERY fun and good. but also i will never be able to live up to the raw genius it takes to write soldier at peak soldier so sweet is what you’re gonna get

Demo had never been mistaken on the fact that Soldier was uncomfortable with eye contact. It wasn’t hard to piece together, the fact that he wore his helmet so low even though he held his head so high. In the locker rooms, it was the last thing he took off and the first thing he put back on. And at first Demo thought it was just about the helmet itself, but then they’d been stationed in a colder climate that warranted warmer headwear and he’d traded the helmet for a big, fluffy hat, and pulled that down over his eyes as well.

For the first months of their dating, he’d done his best to respect that boundary. Every time he had to push Soldier’s helmet up to kiss him, he kept his eye firmly shut for every moment that any place above his cheekbone was exposed. When they’d first gotten intimate, instead of insisting Soldier take the helmet off so he could better read his expressions and body language, he made the other man swear up and down to tell him if anything was wrong, and constantly paused to check that he was comfortable before each and every step they took into the act, to the point that Soldier ended up getting frustrated with him and snapping at him to hurry it up before he took the reins himself.

Eventually they escalated to Soldier taking his helmet off but facing away from him. And then Demo got another idea, when they were having a conversation one night before bed.

“Is the problem more me seeing your face, or the eye contact?” Demo asked, in the midst of pulling on a pair of boxers. He wasn’t sure if they belonged to him or Soldier—they wore the same size and dressed similarly enough anyways, so it didn’t particularly matter.

Soldier considered the question, standing in the mirror and looking at the series of love bites that had been scattered over his shoulders. “Neither,” he seemed to decide. “Or… with most people, both. But not with you.”

That made Demo smile. “Yeah?”

“Affirmative.” Another pause. “The problem is feeling… vulnerable to attack. The eyes are among the most vulnerable part of the body. I prefer not to have them exposed.”

Demo nodded. He could absolutely understand that, maybe more than anyone else on the team. “So you’d be alright with me looking you in the eye, just not straight in the eye?” he asked.

Soldier frowned. “What do you mean?”

Demo stood, moving over to demonstrate. He hooked an arm around Soldier’s waist, gathering him close and nuzzling into his neck for a second, making him smile a little sheepishly. Then he moved his free hand up to tilt his helmet back out of the way, making eye contact with Soldier’s reflection.

“This alright?” he asked, watching Soldier’s body language in his periphery for any sign of tension. He got none, only a vague shifting like surprise that slowly faded back away the longer their gazes held.

He didn’t answer for a few moments. Demo took a moment during the pause to tilt his head to press a kiss just behind Soldier’s ear, and was delighted to see the way Soldier’s eyes crinkled up at the edges as he smiled.

“This is good,” Soldier seemed to decide, voice firm. “I am enjoying this.”

“Happy to hear it, lad,” Demo said simply, and kissed him under the jaw. “How’s about some other time we try something else with this?”

“Why not now?” Soldier asked, and Demo was intrigued by the curve of his eyebrows, the squint of his eyes.

“Because you rode me like a bloody show pony through three rounds and if I try for one more bloody time tonight I think my soul’s as ready to leave my body as anything else,” he deadpanned.

It was nice to see the place where Soldier’s flush started to develop on his face, to watch it spreading up to his ears rather than just down to his collarbones. “Understood,” was all Soldier managed to say, finally breaking and averting his eyes, and Demo laughed.

They tried the “something new” a few days later, when Demo was sure they’d have plenty of time for each other, when he knew they wouldn’t be rushing or tired from a long day of work and chores and tinkering and exercise.

He told Soldier right out the gate that the night would be gentle overall, and they would be taking it slow and steady. Soldier nodded, and mimicked one of the things Demo would do when he was in one of his more romantic moods, picking up his hand and pressing a kiss into the center of his palm. Then he surprised Demo with something new, looking at his hand for a moment and starting to press kisses along the gradient where his skin darkened from palm to wrist, gently kissing a line there, and it made Demo’s face feel hot, his heart fluttering, pleasant and warming like a glimpse of the sunrise between the canyons rather than sharp and aching like a rushed defusal following a mistaken button press.

He spent a few moments rearranging the room, answering every one of Soldier’s questions with “be patient, love, it’s a surprise”. Soldier only seemed to start catching on when he was naked and situated on Demo’s lap, facing outward directly towards the mirror Demo had borrowed from its place hanging on the back of the door and set at the foot of the bed.

He couldn’t manage to keep eye contact through the entirety of Demo teasing him open with steady fingers, eyes flicking away, then head turning down and to one side, and finally burying his face in his hand, hunched forward even as his legs started trembling.

“You alright?” Demo asked cautiously when he finally noticed Soldier hiding, ready to cease all goings-on at a moment’s notice.

“I’m embarrassed,” Soldier said, tone flat even where it trembled.

Demo purred comforting words into the stubble on his neck, continuing to flow fingers against Soldier, more to soothe than prepare him, although he was nearly ready anyways. “Janey, I promise I won’t laugh at you,” he murmured, eye closed for a moment to give Soldier reprieve. “Won’t think less of you, neither. I love you, every part of you. And going off of that, I’m right sure I’ll love everything I’ll see here tonight. And whatever I see stays right here between us.”

That seemed to bring Soldier comfort and ease, because within a few moments the shoulder Demo was resting his chin on was relaxed, and the only tension remaining was in Soldier’s thighs, starting to tremble.

“We can try again some other time if you’d like,” he finally offered, just in case.

“I want to do this,” Soldier replied, decisive again.

Demo smiled, opened his eye to look at Soldier again. “Alright,” he said simply. “Then let’s.”

He found himself breathless as he finally pushed into Soldier a few moments later, both thanks to the pleasure and thanks to the novelty of seeing Soldier’s face. The way his eyebrows drew together and crooked, his eyelids faltering before finally dropping closed, his full expression on display rather than simply the way his lips parted with panting when Demo’s thighs were finally pressed flush with his own, oh, it was more than he could’ve ever hoped for, wished for. His chest was full to the bursting.

Less sappy emotional nonsense followed after that initial moment, only occasionally hitting him with an aftershock.

He slowly rolled into a steady pace, and wound up nibbling and nipping at Soldier’s shoulders and back, having already been treated previously to all sorts of enthusiastic babble about how much Soldier enjoyed that particular activity. And soon enough Soldier was doing the majority of the work, a powerful core paired with thighs of steel combining to make him an absolute terror of a ride, driving Demo to some amount of desperation within the minute.

Suddenly resurfacing from the sea of pleasure Soldier had thrown him into and remembering the new thing they’d just added to their sex lives, Demo blinked his bleary eye open and shifted to try and catch a glimpse of Soldier’s expression in the mirror. And he found that Soldier had already been looking at him, and he’d always sort of imagined that when he was riding this hard Soldier would have the same look of determination on his face that he got somewhere around pull-up number eighty, but instead there was desperation there, clear and sharp, and a vulnerability that Demo hadn’t been aware of Soldier being ready for, and it hit like a punch to the jaw, his brain reeling.

Soldier reached a hand back, and it found the back of Demo’s neck, pulling him in, and he went along with the silent request and started back in on leaving marks across Soldier’s skin.

He’d thought that Jane would be the one who might get overwhelmed by this, but he was wrong. Just one glimpse of his face and Demo had nearly been undone.

He held himself together up until Soldier started making that little noise in the back of his throat on every exhale that meant he was close, and took over the pace for a moment to finish himself off, reaching around to fist at his cock even as he pounded in once, twice, three times, throbbing and spending himself, a second kind of relief washing through him when Soldier choked out a noise and came as well, spurting mostly onto his own stomach, the final jolt spilling mostly over Demo’s fist.

He had to pull out, and managed not to wince at the drip that followed, warm against his thigh. He nosed in at Soldier’s stubble again, peeking at his expression.

Gorgeous. He’d always suspected that it would be. And slightly goofy, he had to admit, but it read as endearing rather than ridiculous.

“Can we do that again?” Soldier asked, voice a little weak, and Demo chuckled, kissed him on the shoulder.

“In a few minutes maybe, doll,” he teased, and it got Soldier to exhale, pulling the hand now resting against his waist up within kissing range, and Demo didn’t stop him, even as he made a noise of protest at the way Soldier ended up carelessly ended up getting cum on his face.

He’d just need to clean it off later, he supposed.

#also ao3 has some good demosolly content just mind the tags some of the stories there have pretty heavy content #//demosolly #//tenderness

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doctorgerth · 5 years

Text

Prompt Winner #3

Prompt: “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Description: Being a Straw Hat, you don’t really get to see Law as often as you’d like due to his own personal missions. When the Heart Pirates show up one day and a party ensues, you and Law sneak off to have a little party of your own. (fem s/o)

Rating: 100% Law smut, with a hint of fluff and angst

Warnings: cursing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex

Note: This is uhh pretty filthy lmao and also really long as I got a bit carried away..... I completely understand if you want to skip to the sinful parts! No shame here. NSFW begins under the cut.

Body Party (Law)

NSFW

Prompt Story

(Word count: 5509)

"Look everyone, it's Torao!" Luffy beamed with an ear-to-ear grin as he ran to the head of the Sunny to greet his friend (first) and ally (second). Your heart skipped a beat at the familiar, rather endearing nickname your captain would use to call Law. You weren't supposed to see him for a few more days now, why the sudden appearance?

Nevertheless, that curious question couldn't stop your feet from trailing right behind Luffy as you trotted in excitement, eager to see if it was really him or this was all a dream. The bright yellow of the Polar Tang glistened under the sun, bobbing against the turquoise waves. Up on board were a few familiar faces, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, Jean Bart, and Bepo. All were standing proudly, the rest of the crew following in tow, and your heart beamed seeing such wonderful friends again after so long.

Your eyes wandered, practically straining against the sun as you searched for the infamous dark haired, tattooed man. The anticipation was killing you! The impatience and eagerness to just see him again, no longer relying on his bounty poster for company, was keeping your body on the verge of explosion. Where was Law?

"Looking for me?" A voice whispered just behind your ear, immediately sending chills down your spine. It was a bit embarrassing, but you could feel the dampness of your panties already. Your heart threatened to break out of its cage at the lull of his voice, sounding more suggestive than you were sure he intended. Nevertheless, the tension was real and you were hot for him already.

Before you could even turn around to greet your lover, Luffy had already tackled Law to the ground, Chopper joining in, in a back-breaking hug.

"We missed you, Torao! Welcome back!" Luffy's infamous shishishi graced your ears and though Law definitely looked annoyed, the fact that he wasn't putting forth much effort to remove Luffy from his neck showed that he was at least a little happy to be back.

The rest of your crew joined, some waving at the Heart Pirates in greeting, some asking Law how his mission went. You stood against the railing, eyes threatening to tear up as you smiled at this heartfelt reunion. To have two of the most important groups in your life around you at once, you couldn't ask for anything more. But as much as you loved this reunion, the only thing that could make this better was a personal reunion between you and Law.

He seemed to notice you lost in thought and as your eyes met, the feelings of sheer anxiousness and need, reminiscent of when you first caught feelings for this man, pooled your stomach and shook the lower half of your body. He offered you a smirk as the people around him kept talking and for a moment, it felt like it was you two again. Everything disappeared in an instant as you offered each other welcoming smiles, but you were already tired of the distance between the two of you. He was right there, you just needed to touch him, feel his fingers on your skin, even if for just a moment.

It was to no one's surprise that Luffy called up a party between the allied pirate groups, no one could possibly reject the idea. Sanji immediately went to the kitchen to prepare food and drinks for everyone, Zoro very hesitantly started sharing his alcohol with some Heart Pirates, and Brook whipped out his violin to play some tunes. The party was already fully alive within minutes, the mingling of Heart Pirates and Straw Hats was an endearing sight.

Your eyes kept finding Law's among the crowd and he captured yours every time you found him, as if he was watching your every move. There was always someone between you two, other people begging to have each of your attentions, but your mind was only ever on Law and he seemed to display the same struggle with you. Your legs grew weaker with every suggestive look he shot your way, the two of you visibly getting needier by the second. Yet, he was making no effort to get you alone. You understood, because people would surely be questioning where you two ran off to, but you couldn't hide the disappointment you felt. Did he not miss you? Even a little?

You decided to tease him a bit, maybe pushing his buttons would garner the attention you so desired. Anything was better than shamelessly eye-fucking each other from across the ship. You needed contact and you weren't sure you could last much longer in his presence before needing to go relieve yourself, like you had been doing the past few months during his absence. You'd much prefer he help you out, but your patience was beginning to wear thin.

Ikkaku offered you a drink and you took it with grace, instantly bringing the cool champagne glass to your lips, making sure to take the drink nice and slow. Law watched with hazy eyes as you drank, wishing he was against your lips. He'd never been so jealous over an inanimate object before and he knew exactly what you were doing to him. It's not that he hated it, you were just making it damn near impossible for him to control himself! How dare you make him so flustered in front of your respective crews.

Your body could feel his eyes burning passionate holes into your body as he watched you with need, you had him right where you wanted him. You decided to turn up the heat by reaching for you hair, pulling at the pins and ribbons that kept it tied up in a bun. With a few pulls, you hair cascaded down onto your shoulders. Hooded eyes were what you offered Law this time as you shook at your hair, loving the way it felt down. Even from this distance, you could see the flush creeping along his neck and cheeks. You smiled at him suggestively before turning your attention back onto Ikkaku, allowing the burning desire to settle into his system.

There was a brief time when Ikkaku left you to go retrieve another drink for herself. You were left alone for a moment, watching as everyone talked and danced and drank amongst each other on the ship. It had been a few minutes since you had seen Law, so naturally your eyes scanned the crowd for his tall figure, but to your dismay, he seemed to be nowhere in sight. You double checked every area you could on the ship, trying to look casual as you searched for him everywhere, but there was no Law visible on the ship.

You huffed to yourself, you would think he would be begging to see you after all this time apart, but he hadn't even so much as hugged you since his return! You were definitely gonna give him an ear full when you got a chance to speak to him.

But your thoughts dispersed quickly as in a flash, you suddenly found yourself pinned harshly against cold walls you weren't too familiar with at first. Your eyes took some time to adjust to the stark white light and you realized you were in Law's room on the Polar Tang, the doctor himself pinning your arms above your head with a devilish smirk on his lips.

Your breath finally caught up to you as you looked up to your lover. Suddenly, tears swelled up in your eyes and you couldn't stop the dam from breaking as you cried his name, "Oh, Law..."

Surprised by your sudden burst of emotions, he released your wrists from his rough grasp, pulling you into his arms in a tight embrace. Your body shook from the strangled tears you were holding back, but your body instantly melded into his as he held you close, a free hand petting the back of your head.

"It's okay. I'm here." He cooed into your hair, feeling instant regret for not offering you his loving embrace sooner. He was rather shy with public affection, so he was just waiting for the right time to get you alone. He admittedly should have done so sooner, but all that mattered was that he had you now.

"I missed you so much." You whispered as your grip tightened into his black coat. You pulled his body into you, begging to have him closer as if it were even possible. He was here, tangible, right under your finger tips; you finally had him all to yourself, the sounds from the lively party barely a low mumble in your ears.

He pulled away only to look at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. His fingers placed themselves under the base of your chin, pulling you up to his lips, "Let me show you just how much I missed you, (Name)-ya." He whispered, his warm breath fanning your lips, sending desire-filled shivers down your entire body at the way your name rolled off his tongue.

This was what you wanted for so long, the feeling to be one with Law again was a need aching in your body since the last time you were connected. You had to manage yourself while he was away, but now he was here, able to fulfill all your desires. You wasted no time in connecting your lips with his, a satisfied moan escaping into the warmth of his open mouth. You remembered the last kiss you had, it was hesitant, dismal, a pitiful goodbye kiss. This one, this welcoming kiss, was what you dreamed of, warm, sensual, and desperate. You were an absolute fool to think Law hadn't missed you all this time.

His body pushed yours against the wall once more, your kissing now sloppy and hungry as his lips devoured yours. He wanted to make this special for your sake, but after missing you for so long and that relentless teasing you were shamelessly offering earlier, he wasn't able to control his carnal desires. He wanted to show you just what you do to him, he wanted you to know how torturous it was for him to be without you.

Your arms were pinned above you again as he continued ravaging you. His knee wedged itself between your thighs, forcing them to spread apart. You easily complied, offering an open invitation for his hips to settle between yours. The strain of his hardening member against his jeans was becoming agonizingly painful as he'd been dealing with it practically all night.

His lips left yours for a moment, instantly trailing down to attack your neck with harsh bites and licks. Meanwhile, his hips found themselves eagerly grinding against your core, begging for friction, "Look at what you do to me. Can you see what four long months without you has done to me?” Law left biting kisses down the length of your neck, his moans muffled against your skin as it felt so good for him to rock into you once again, even if fully clothed, “Shame on you for making me so weak in front of our crews. You're gonna pay for your teasing."

You could only hum in delight as he continued his ministrations along your collar bones. You weren't scared of what he would do to you, in fact, you would accept his punishments graciously. Your thoughts were racing with bliss as his lips had never felt so good on your skin before. His free hand roamed your body and you felt as if your skin ignited with his every touch, your head was spinning from the heat and lust pooling within you.

He released your wrists in order to free you from the tight confines of your shirt. Your breasts spilled out shamelessly, and for an instant, you felt your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment at being revealed to him. The shyness easily left you however, as Law was quick to grab at your breasts with his tattooed hands, burying his face between the mounds. His calloused palms against your sensitive, perked nipples sent you reeling, head falling back against the wall with a rather loud thud as his fingers, lips, teeth, and tongue explored your territory.

"Oh, I've missed these." He muttered contently, taking your left nipple into his mouth. He moaned in pleasure at having your beautiful breast between his teeth once again, a fantasy he replayed over and over again in his head during his time away. The satisfied moans you offered him made his heart pound in his chest; he's been dying to hear these noises from you again and he was only aching to hear more.

A curious finger trailed along the smooth skin of your thigh, you hadn't even noticed at first due to your body weakening from his loving attention on your breasts. That was until the finger found its way along the outlines of your shorts, trailing along the hems and fabric, tauntingly circling around your most desperate area. Your hips wiggled against his touch and he chuckled in response, releasing you from his mouth with a slick pop.

As much as he wanted to plunge his fingers deep into your aching cunt, he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. He knew he wouldn't last long if he just gave himself to you right now. His body was aching for release, but he wanted to take his time in ravishing your body until you were both exhausted from pleasure.

"Such a needy girl, you think you can just have your way right now? Not a chance, I told you that you were gonna pay for being so cruel to me earlier.” Law retreated from your heated body, and you instantly felt cold, hands almost reaching out to pull him back into you, “It's time for your punishment, my love. Get on your knees. Now." A lone finger pointed downwards as a visual command and you couldn't hide the smirk that fell upon your lips at his orders. He always loved to take advantage of your submissiveness.

You dropped slowly onto your knees for him, fiddling with his belt and zipper once your knees touched the floor. Law helped you slightly in the undressing process, but he was too enamored in watching you undress him yourself. You shimmied his pants down to his ankles, not realizing Law had kicked off his boots already. He stepped out from his pants and watched as you gawked at the tent in his underwear. Your mouth seemed to water as you pulled down the bands of his underwear, his hardened cock spring forth, grazing against the tip of your nose. There it was, the cock you knew and loved so well. The cock that has rocked your body countless times before and was sure to leave you writhing in pleasure by the end of the night. Those thoughts were enough to leave you practically dripping in your underwear.

Your hands went to grab at it with eagerness, but his own tattooed hands swatted your nimble fingers away, "Behind your back." He stated, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. You eyed him curiously, but complied with crossing your wrists and keeping them behind you. Normally he would secure your wrists with a tie or his belt, but perhaps he wanted to test you.

"Good girl, now open wide." He smirked, bringing his leaking tip to your lips, circling them for just a second, before he eased his cock into your mouth. Your mouth adjusted accordingly as he never ceased his penetration. He guided his dick further and further, brushing past your gag reflexes down your throat. A low guttural groan escaped his throat and his body shuddered at having himself sheathed so far inside you. Your warm, soaked mouth a perfect home for his needy manhood.

Tears stung your eyes at having your mouth so full of him. You gagged once or twice, but Law would be a liar if he said he didn't find the feeling absolutely tantalizing. He stayed still for a moment, and though it was a bit uncomfortable for you, you were content with the look of pure pleasure on his face. His hand went to cup the back of your head for support, tangling in your hair in the process, as he began to unsheathe his cock from your mouth, only to fill you up again; reveling in the beyond pleasurable feeling each time.

He found a steady pace, practically holding your head steady for his own use, but you incorporated your tongue work in the midst of him face-fucking you and he loved every second of it, "You still know how to suck me so good, (Name)-ya...so good..."

All conscious thoughts were becoming a blur in his head as he was driven mad with carnal desires while his cock pumped in and out of you. Your warm cavern and skilled tongue were working him to the edge, sending satisfying jolts through every inch of his body. He hadn't noticed for a second that your hands were shamelessly rubbing at his thighs, so when he finally realized, he pulled on your hair harshly, your low moans vibrating his dick in response.

"Are you trying to disobey me, (Name)-ya? I don't think you want that."

But you do, you thought to yourself. When you offered him a challenging look paired with rather lecherous eyes, he gritted his teeth, unable to contain himself any longer. He gripped your head with both hands and began relentlessly pounding his cock into your gasping mouth. You gagged so many times at his harsh fucking but you took every single thrust with pride, loving the feeling of choking on his dick. Law loved the feeling too, perhaps a little too much as his thrusting became sloppy and he felt the impending release tightening in his lower body.

"Hold still and you better swallow every last drop." He commanded, as if you were even daring to move in the first place, while he held you steady and you were eager to have your lover reach his peak. With a few more thrusts, Law came with three slow pumps, his thick cum already trailing down the back of your throat, "Fuck."

He pulled out of your mouth, pulling you up to your feet and kissing your cum and saliva soaked lips without hesitation. Your mouth was aching from his rough session, but his soft, intimate lips offered you comfort as he kissed you with utmost desire.

"On the bed, now. Get out of those shorts and spread those beautiful legs for me." He pushed you in the direction of the bed and you waltzed over with shaky legs. The excitement of what was to come next was hardly containable. You removed your shorts and soaked underwear quickly while Law cleaned the rest of himself off with a spare shirt. Your back fell against the mattress, spreading your legs in slight nervousness for him. The time it took for Law to turn around was long enough to make you anxious, you almost snapped your thighs shut out of embarrassment.

But when he turned around, the way he bit his lip to suppress the filthy words he wanted to spill seemed to garner you confidence as you only spread your legs further for his hungry eyes. He strode over to you, a hand loosely pumping his already hardening cock, lewd seduction heavy in his golden eyes. Having you sprawled out on his bed, legs spread wide open, pussy glistening with desire for him, Law could never get enough of that sight.

"So gorgeous..." He muttered to himself as he made his way to the bed. Before you could respond, he pulled you by the hips onto the edge of the bed, now dropping onto his knees for you, "I suppose you deserve some kind of reward for taking my cock so well earlier. Be a good girl and let me ravish you."

You didn't have to think twice about his offer as you placed your legs on his shoulders as confirmation. Your cunt was wide open and ready for his hungry lips, quivering right in front of his eyes. He marveled at the sight, a bit shocked at how bold you've become, but he knew you were just desperate after all this time spent apart; he was more than willing to finally satisfy you.

He placed tender kisses along your thighs, loving the way your body jolted with each touch. You were so sensitive and you bet your ass he was going to take full advantage of that. His kisses trailed down to your pubice, leaving soft, feather-like kisses there as well. Law was a grade A tease, and though usually you enjoyed it, right now you were becoming a bit frustrated! Your pussy has been craving his touch for months, and now he's decided to tease you?

That one curious finger from earlier made way to your core again, this time trailing the skin around every area desiring to be touched. His eyes were glued to your soaked core, just mesmerized by you for a moment, "After all this time, you're still so wet for me." His voice was barely above a whisper as he said this, "Let's see if you still taste so sweet."

Finally, finally, his tongue placed a curious lick against the whole outer area of your core, tongue pressing flat against it in a long, slick swipe. Your body rocked at the sensation, it was just too good, indescribable; and you needed so much more of it. Your fingers instantly tangled in his hair as his tongue continued swiping, as if he was learning every inch of your body all over again, but you both knew better. Law knew every inch of your body already.

His tongue made way between your folds, experimentally creeping inside your core, exploring the depths of your caverns. You accidentally forced his face deeper into you out of instinct, tongue fully sheathed inside you now and Law moaned in response. Law definitely preferred to dominate you, but he couldn't deny how he equally loved the way you took control of his face while he ate you out. The way you were so desperate for his lips and tongue always sent him reeling.

"Fuck, Law!" You yelped in pleasure as his tongue prodded in and out of you with haste, and he only went faster so he could hear more of your whining of his name. Your legs were trembling on his shoulders now, body shaking from the pleasure he was giving you from his tongue work. He pulled out of you and instantly swiped up to your swollen clit, taking it between his lips. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he played with your sensitive button, circling and sucking on it as if a snack. Your back arched as he plunged his digit deep within you, never ceasing his affection on your clit.

The sloshing sound of your juices should've embarrassed you, but nothing coherent could breach your thoughts as you were only focused on the absolute satisfaction Law was providing you; eating you out and fingering you to his heart's content. Your mewls filled his ears, way better than any party music in his opinion, and he only hastened himself to bring you right to the edge. You've been craving release and he was bound and determined to give it to you.

With swiftness he added another finger into you, tongue still working at your clit, pounding relentlessly into your soaked core. Your walls were beginning to tighten around him and he knew you were close, so he took this opportunity to shove yet another finger inside you, having your body thrashing underneath him.

"Law, oh my- fuck! Yes, yes, yes, keep going, please."

You didn't have to tell him twice. He smirked a little while he continued his work on your core, fingers curling inside you with each pump. Your body was completely flushed, sweat trailing down your neck as your body prepared you for what was to come. Your toes curled and uncurled at a rapid rate, the tightness in your legs trailing up and up as you felt the knot in your abdomen threatening to break. Law took one last swipe of your clit, fingers continuing their rough speed as he looked up at you, "Cum for me, (Name)-ya. Let it all go."

You couldn't hold back as his words seemed to unfurl the knot in your body, a wail of pleasure escaping you. Your juices spilled forth while your body rocked as you rode out your orgasm. Tingles littered your being as you became weightless for a second, escaping off into ecstasy as you came down from your high. Law moaned in delight, lapping up every bit of your cum from your core, leaving his fingers soaked for you to taste. He rose to his feet while you laid there exhausted, limp, but he was nowhere near through with you.

Your eyes were shut from bliss until you felt his slick fingers outline your lips. He smiled at your tired eyes and the way you lazily opened your mouth to suck his fingers clean, "Still delicious."

You giggled lightly in response, opening your eyes to look at your love, completely enamored with how satisfied he makes you feel, "I love you so much, Law."

His smile grew slightly bigger as he nodded, "I know, and I love you, (Name)-ya. But we're not done yet."

With that, you retreated backwards onto the bed while Law crawled over your body, pumping at his dick once again, though he was rock hard after seeing you come undone for him. His lips made way to yours again, this time passionate and slow. The lustful feelings subsiding for a moment as he came to realize just how much he truly missed you. Your touch, your smell, your smile, your laugh, everything about you; going four months without his favorite person was one of the most difficult things he's ever had to experience.

"I don't ever want to leave you again." He whispered in a hushed tone, forehead resting against yours.

You smiled up at him, pulling him closer by the neck, "Then don't."

His lips curled upwards as he plastered you with kisses once more, you were a moaning mess under him as his tip circled around your sensitive area. He was driving you mad yet again, but with his slow kissing, he showed no sign of entering you any time soon. You bit down on his lip and he shivered for a second, confused by your roughness. He pulled away to look at you, curious.

"Fuck me like you mean it, Trafalgar. Show me how much you missed me. I need you inside me."

His mouth peeled into a shit-eating grin at your words, completely satisfied and utterly surprised at your command, "When did you gain such a filthy mouth, (Name)-ya? Don't tell me you were offering this pussy, my pussy, to some brute while I was away?"

"This pussy is only for you, Law, and it needs you now. Please!" You begged and though Law wanted to deny you your satisfaction just a little while longer, he complied.

With a slow push, he eased himself inside you, the both of you moaning and hissing in bliss at finally becoming one after so long. Your walls were so deliciously tight around his cock, his eyes screwed shut tight as he focused on anything but cumming inside you right here and now. His cock filled you up unlike anything else and you took it with ease as your walls were still so slick from his affections earlier. Though it had been four months since you two were last connected like this, your pussy took him astonishingly well, as if you two were made for each other.

"Fuck, did you get tighter while I was away? You feel so fucking good." Law admitted through gritted teeth as he continued pushing deeper and deeper inside. You could only moan in pleasure and grip at the sheets until your knuckles turned white. You were so full, so content, it was as if Law was everywhere around you at one time, your world completely enraptured by his presence. Your back arched, causing your chests to collide, Law couldn't even revel in the feeling of your breasts against his bare chest as he was so focused on filling you up completely.

At last, his tip reached the end, his cock fully sheathed inside you. Your body shook with every twitch of Law's member, and after you fully adjusted to his length, you pulled him down towards you in a heated kiss, a reaffirming signal for him to move. Law remembered your words, your command for him to fuck you like he meant it, so he was bound to give you exactly what you wanted.

As he withdrew from you, your body winced and whined at the loss of contact, but your moans were soon filling his open, eager mouth as he pounded back into you with a force you were unfamiliar with. It was quick and powerful, a bit different from his usually slow, painfully teasing pace. It typically took Law a bit of a warm up before he was roughly bucking into you, but amidst the unbearable sexual frustration and the loving desire he had for you, Law could no longer control himself. That's how he found himself drilling you into the mattress within seconds, your nails digging crescent marks into the skin of his shoulders at his surprisingly rough and desperate thrusting.

"Mmmm...fuck, yes, fuck me just like that, Law!" You pleaded, not even slightly embarrassed by your new found courage of dirty talk. You could care less what spilled from your mouth as your body bounced into the mattress at his relentless pace. It still wasn't very fast, but his thrusts were rocking you each time, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body every time his hips snapped into yours with eagerness.

He only groaned pleasurably in response, finding it a bit difficult to respond coherently as your tight cunt gripped his dick so well each time he entered you. His thrusts only became rougher, your screams of pleasure only edging him on to pound into you harsher. He wanted you to feel every bit of his love for you, trying desperately to make up for lost time.

Suddenly, he gripped your calves to throw them over his shoulders, now hitting you at an angle that had you trembling in rapture. Your legs squeezed around him so beautifully as he raked his nails against them, hitting that special spot of yours he knew all too well. Loving kisses and bites were littered against your delicate skin, bringing you closer and closer to an edge only he could ever bring you to.

Your hands flung to his chest, fingers searching desperately for something to hold onto, but you made do with clawing at the tattoo on his torso. His pace quickened while his thrusts remained brutal, surely leaving you bruised in consequence. He couldn't stop himself from digging into your thighs as your walls only grew tighter around him, signalling your imminent release.

"L-law, I'm...close...just right there." You stated between heavy breathing, the knot returning yet again in your abdomen.

His hands found yours among your sweaty, tangled bodies, and he linked his fingers with yours, "Me too." he muttered with a strangled moan, bringing your interlocked hands up to his lips in order to place a loving kiss against the top of your hand.

The collision of hips, the sloshing of your wet pussy, and your sweet wails of his name were bringing him right to that same edge. He tried desperately to suppress the need for release just a little while longer, but the moment your walls clamped around him and you came all over his cock, he knew he was destined to follow soon after. Your legs laid heavy on his shoulders as your body spasmed, sensitive against his ever-thrusting cock. You laid still, coming down from your high as he continued his powerful fucking, chasing after his own high.

Law looked down to see his cum soaked cock easing in and out of you, and after a couple more thrusts he held your hips in place in order to release every bit of himself deep inside of you. Your body jolted at the feeling of his warm seed filling you up, you couldn't help but moan his name sweetly one last time, putting a tired, but content smile on Law's face.

You offered him a lazy smile in return, placing your hand against his cheek in an admiring manner. He eased into your touch, completely enamored with your post-sex face, all disheveled and flustered; absolutely stunning in his eyes.

"Should we go back to the party?" You whispered, definitely noticing the slight twitches of his cock, which was still buried inside you.

Law pretended to look away in thought, but amongst the sultry look in his eyes, you knew exactly what he was thinking, "Our party is far better. I think it’s time for the after party." Before you could ever respond, Law sealed his lips against yours, eager hands roaming along the curves of your body once again.

#one piece #follower event special #follower event 2 #follower event #prompt winner #prompt story #prompt #filthy #filth #extra sin #heavily sinful #sinful #sin #trafalgar law #law #reader insert

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babyybitchhh · 4 years

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For science’s sake though, I would love to know what Senkuu and Gen give as Valentine’s Day gifts! Shikamaru as well! Thank you!😍

SFW content isn’t usually my speed but I am just SO in my feelings recently that this ask was like Cupid’s arrow straight to the heart and I’m here for it. Let’s go.

Senkuu

Isn’t particularly impressed by Valentine’s Day. Like. At all. He thinks it’s silly. He thinks there’s a hundred better ways one could be spending their time and money but, despite his personal feelings on the matter, he GETS why people like it. He’s not anywhere near so heartless as to completely scoff at the feelings of others even though he’s pretty damn sure he’s not about that life himself. “Good for them, but I’m different.”

But then here you are and oh, shit. You’re quite possibly the most attractive human being he’s ever seen - cute and fun and interesting as all get out. He recognizes what he’s feeling right off the bat but he’s not particularly happy about it so it takes him a good while to come around and accept the fact he’s contracted a serious case of the dreaded Love Sickness. And when I tell you this boy approaches his feelings just as tempered and methodically as everything else in his life, I mean that wholeheartedly.

Still has very little interest in Valentine’s itself. The sudden emergence of his feelings does not change that. But now he’s finding that he wants to make you happy and since girls expect displays of affection on this day more than any other, he knows he’s gotta step up. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Especially since he wouldn’t want you to think that he doesn’t care about you in some capacity or, worse, give someone else the opportunity to woo you while he’s floundering in indecision. That’s just so not his style.

Senkuu is a very steadfast individual and if he decides he’s going to humor this silly little crush, then by god that’s what he’s going to do.

The only problem is; how exactly does he do that? With no previous experience to build off of, all he can do is think back on what he’s seen other people doing and use his brain to find the answer. He spends a lot of time considering all his options, weighing the pros and cons of each one carefully. He doesn’t want to seem too eager or overly enthusiastic so giant teddy bears are simply out of the question. But he also doesn’t want to settle on a small, inconsequential gift that doesn’t have any real meaning behind it so a simple box of chocolates is also a no-go.

After spending a long time scouring the internet for ideas and looking over trinkets through store windows on his way back and forth from home, he finally decides to show you how he feels the only way he conceivably CAN.

By giving you the world - or your own personal, fun-sized version of it anyway.

❤️❤️❤️

Gen

Gen loves Valentine’s Day. Full stop. Do not even attempt to get between this man and his half-priced chocolates the day afterward because there’s no guarantee that you won’t come out the other side missing a finger or two. But when it comes to the lovey-dovey aspect of the holiday, he’s much less into it. Unimpressed is what you’d call it and not for any jaded, edgy reasons but because he is the very definition of affectionate displays all year round. He doesn’t need a special reason to show someone he cares for them and, if anything, this is just another day of the week for him.

True to nature, he goes out of his way to make people believe the exact opposite though. He’ll drag the very concept of Valentine’s through the mud and decry any individual who foolishly stakes their entire heart and soul on mustering up the courage just to confess to the person they like. He calls it a cliche and wonders at the girls who actually fall for that after school special crap. “Wait, you mean you actually said ‘yes’? Aikes-yay.”

He’s so convincingly sincere that you not only fully believe he hates the holiday but you also don’t expect a single goddamn thing from him. Not so much as a simple “happy Valentine’s Day” let alone an actual gift. Surely even that would be expecting too much and never mind receiving any poignant, heartfelt declarations of love. You’ve long since accepted the fact that it’s going to be a night in with very little to show for it.

But to your absolute astonishment, you wake up that morning to a text telling you to have a good and happy Valentine’s with more heart emojis than you know what to do with. Okaaaaay. Unexpected but you’re still pleasantly surprised. Maybe he was just pretending to throw you off?

With that thought officially taking root in your head, you go about your day fully expecting Gen to show up at any moment with a giant teddy bear in tow or an arm full of roses and the anticipation leaves you vibrating. Disappointment starts to settle in as the afternoon drags into evening but then … out of nowhere he asks if you want to go get dinner with him. Huh. Thinking for sure he’s got something planned now, you readily agree.

Only to end up standing in front of a McDonald’s. Oh, you’re going to kill him. That’s exactly what you get for playing games with a Gemini and no, it’s not actually canon, but you can rip that HC right out of my cold dead hands.

However, just as you’re getting ready to pop off for the insult, he gives you one of those evil grins and says “Just kidding.” He actually has reservations for a lovely five-star restaurant just around the corner. You fell for his misdirection hook line and sinker, and he doesn’t try to hide how cute he thinks your reaction is. The look on your face when he reveals the big surprise is totally worth it and, just to seal the deal and assure you of his sincerity, he gives you a kiss and one of his favorite flowers with a love note attached.

❤️❤️❤️

Shikamaru

If you look up the definition of ‘sweet’ in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of this boy plastered right there for all to see. Despite his almost standoffish outer shell, Shikamaru is not only sensitive but he’s actually really attached to the concept of classically styled love. Kind of hard not to be when he grew up watching his parent’s relationship but that’s a post for another day. He hides it well enough that he almost even manages to convince himself that he’s not Like That but he is. Deep down in his heart of hearts, he knows he is. So, assuming that Valentine’s Day were to find its way to Konoha in the same shape that we know it, I think he’d be all about the holiday. At least in theory, anyway.

Application would be another matter entirely though. His emotional sensitivity goes both ways so he’d be nervous and more than a little embarrassed about the whole ordeal, not to mention terrified of rejection. What if you hate the gift he gets you? What if he just embarrasses himself? What if you laugh about it with your friends later? What if he puts himself out there and you don’t even feel the same way? Being a genius is as much a blessing as it is a curse and he’d sooo easily get lost in his thoughts just going over every single ‘what-if’ scenario he can come up with.

The poor guy is a wreck about it and he gets very close to talking himself out of doing anything at all more than once. His feelings for you are the only thing that stop him from throwing in the towel but he runs into the same problem of not knowing what to get. Flowers and candy are always a safe choice, based on what he’s heard Ino say in passing, but is that really the path he wants to walk? Don’t you deserve better than that though? Stuffed animals are far more attention-grabbing and extravagant but they don’t really suit his shy, reclusive nature and, honestly, he’d just feel like an idiot carrying around something like that. He’s truly at a loss and with the dreaded date fast approaching, he has to make a decision. Soon.

It’s officially time for one of his brooding, soul searching walks while he tries to work out the problem in his head. By pure happenstance, he comes across one of the Nara artisan’s shops and, figuring he’s got nothing to lose, he decides to look over his distant uncle’s wares. That’s when he spots it. A real eureka moment and he’s brimming with excitement as he pays for the item, feeling pretty good about himself until the doubts start creeping in again.

When Valentine’s finally comes around, Shikamaru avoids you for most of the day. He just can’t bring himself to confront you until it's so late in the afternoon that the sun is starting to set and you notice his almost awkward behavior immediately. He adamantly insists that nothing is wrong, coming off almost grumpier than normal, but when he finally screws up the courage to pull the gift out of his pocket, you know exactly why he’s acting like this.

“So you always have a piece of me - a piece of the Nara with you.”

Understated and elegant, dark to match his family’s signature jutsu but feminine enough to get his feelings across, it is truly the sort of gift only HE could give you.

❤️❤️❤️

*Note: Valentine’s is considered to be for girls in Japan, while White Day is for boys, and since these characters are all Japanese I stuck with that narrative. If anyone wants something similar for White Day (March 14th) just let me know!

#I'm not gonna lie #I spent probably an hour and a half looking for Shikamaru's gift #it was real hard #its the 15th now where I'm at but its still Valentine's Day SOMEWHERE in the world right??#dr stone #naruto #senkuu ishigami #gen asagiri #shikamaru nara

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