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mega-bastard · 3 years

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Bitch in Heat Stuck Under Debris Gets WRECKED

a miki mouse whorehouse collab, the m.list you can find here

cw: sexual harrassment, abo themes, dubcon kinda

as the poor quality picture can’t really show you, I got stuckage and I chose Bakugo with the finishing touch of making it ABO <3 It’s also two days late but shhhhh we don’t talk about it uwu also 2.7 words of pain enjoy

katsuki bakugou is becoming a thorn in your side.

you’ve both been metaphorically and somewhat literally glued to each others sides since highschool. it’s not necessarily a bad thing, to be quite frank katsuki is something of a deterrent in a world of second genders and pheromones— something you capitalized on in high school.

being an omega hero isn’t something entirely world shattering, but it’s a position that comes with lots of stereotypes— stereotypes you fought tooth and nail to fight against in your younger years. being one of four omegas in your class was...irritating, to say the least. lots of preconceived notions that you needed to be helped with trivial things, and while your classmates intentions came from a good place it was maddening. save for katsuki, back when he had no restraint with his anger and aggression, he didn’t coddle you like your classmates did. Labeled a brute for his actions towards his omega classmates in trivial interaction or sparring, you thrived on the normality— katsuki was an ass to everyone. Your omega was placated, finally encountering an alpha who wasn’t belittling her with preconceived daintiness.

it was easy to hang near katsuki, ignoring the atrocity that was his vocabulary. eventually like the rest of the peanut gallery that was the bakusquad, you just existed alongside katsuki— which meant that you grew on him. katsuki swears up and down that you’re all a nuisance but you’ve seen him go up to bat for all you at some point, you knew you’d all made some sort of ragtag pack with one another. this was rather amazing to you at the time, not to sell yourself short but you’d never really imagined belonging to a close knit group of friends— especially realizing that they understood when it was appropriate to step in for you. katsuki in particular had a knack for being at the right place at the right time.

During your second year you fumbled.

interning with miruko had its perks, a top 5 hero with raw strength, cunning, and the drive to just keep going— and an omega. landing and internship with her had been a dream, even more-so when you learned she’d been watching you since your first year because of the festival. bright eyed and eager, nothing could have dampened your spirits— neither katsuki and his usual moody behavior or the standoffish alpha from shiketsu. yes, you all had landed an internship with miruko and part of you was...worried? katsuki had never looked down on heroes based on their second genders but you couldn’t speak for the shiketsu alpha, both alphas interning under an established omega hero put your inner omega on edge— you didn’t quite know why though. but you chose to squash the feeling and enjoy your internship with who was essentially your idol and continue on.

then you started getting sexually harassed.

his name was omori kisai and he was the worst. hailing from shiketsu, known for their dignified schooling, he was far from it. salacious comments dropped when no one was listening, less that appropriate touching when passing by and just general ick that had your skin crawling and omega snarling. it was easy to brush it off as banter the first time, section off the awkward contact as an accident. The second time you made it clear the comments were not liked and the touches far from appropriate, after the third time you’d snap an insult or have to hold a trembling fish from making contact. but it was coming to a head and your suppressors could only do so much to hide your souring scent. looking back you should have said something, but your pride had told you that it was a necessary step to overcome and push through— that he wouldn’t be the last. it weighed you down, day by day, a heavy cloud that wouldn’t let up. one particular bad timed comment brought tears to eyes and shame to your entire being.

thankfully, as time would come to show, katsuki tended to nose into your dilemmas.

the day prior to the abrupt end of your harassment you’d been tripped up by a villian and had fallen a sizeable distance into a pitiful excuse of pond. of course, omori had taken this as an open invitation to mock you and then offer you his shitty hero costume cloak— not without hinting at you returning the favor ‘somehow’. yeah right. you had stomped off, unaware of katsuki’s presence nearby. come next day, omori avoided you like the plague and katsuki not so subtly stuck to your side like an unwilling chowchow— all growly and temperamental. but his constant presence rubbed his scent off on you. despite his less than chummy attitude, you weren’t mad; katsuki smelled like cinnamon spice and whiskey with hints of burnt caramel— absolutely overpowering yet decadent all the same.

you tried not to think about just how much you enjoyed his smell. your omega was purring about it.

the omori incident was the beginning of katsuki’s subtle hovering. though you pried the truth of his involvement in omori leaving you alone after offhandedly bringing it up to mina and jirou one day, katsuki helped you out of situations as invasively as possible time and time again. by the end of third year it was no secret to you of your classmates teasing of your relationship with katsuki; an amiable and prideful omega and the irritable powerhouse of an alpha. you brushed it off because...well you didn’t know why, but katsuki’s seeming indifference to the teasing had you quelling every jittery happiness your inner omega expressed at the thought of katsuki being your alpha.

now, three years out of highschool and beginning to climb the ranks, katsuki was becoming testy— and for the life of you the reason couldn’t be more opaque. you both work at the same agency, and due to the nature of your quirks you spend all your time together due to their compatibility. compatibility was a bitter word for you, katsuki and yours supposed compatibility had been talked about for some time now but the sobering reality is that perhaps you two were simply good friends— and now sharing your omegas endearment for the explosive alpha had reared its ugly head.

your heat was a week away and already you felt the familiar fatigue begin to lap at you alongside general moodiness. all that coupled with the annoying need to be around katsuki was maddening and sprinkling his own extra grouchy attitude on top and you were ready to snap. in hindsight, that should have been your cue to take an extra week off— instead you chose to once again to champion pride instead of your intellect.

you could have stayed home this morning, you should have.

patrol had been slow, not particularly unusual but favored nonetheless. face raised to the slowly dipping sun you couldn’t help but sigh, the warmth of the late afternoon sun was heaven sent-- you could sleep standing up with much issue. it remided you katsuki, strangely enough though most things did recently.

the sound of screaming and rushing feet shook you from your drowsy stupor. Set on alert, you spied the source of the sudden discordance and found several villains causing a commotion. quickly calling for backup for you before finding yourself facing a hulking mass of green charging you head on. tranquility gone, it was time to fight.

the ache in your body could not be more apparent but your humiliation ran more rampant in your system than any ache or pain could, your fatigue more than present as your body hummed with warmth. leave it to you to get stuck face down and ass up amongst the trashed ruins of what was an office building, weighed down between a broken desk and a collapsed bookshelf. the villain you had engaged with, some self-named idiot calling himself cruel croc, packed a punch and your bruised body and rendered office floor were a testament to that. of course, you’d done quite the bit of damage to him yourself before the entire floor collapsed underneath you both— rendering the meathead unconscious under a rather hefty pile of concrete and debris whereas you were pinned and to utterly weak to do much.

the thrum of your heat was beginning its path of vengeance through your body, feeling too pliant to get yourself out of what was otherwise easy to fix problem. you were feeling it, bad. the heat of your clothed cunt was beginning to become too apparent, unconsciously squeezing your thighs to provide relief to no avail. no, this could not be happening right now of all times. but as much as your inner monologue fought to try and will away your heat, the warmth was becoming too much and sudden breeze of wind had you trembling and whining. the feel of slick beginning to wet your hero costumes spandex set your hazing thoughts into sudden panic, if cruel croc woke up or if another villain came across you would they be above...the thought alone could’ve made you puke. flashbacks to second year had you bucking wildly for freedom, you wouldn’t let anyone have the opportunity for—

“ OI! Shitty ‘mega were are you? Are you—“

you stilled, biting hard to keep your mouth shut. your omega was whimpering, desperate for the alpha, HER alpha to relieve her from her heat. on a normal day she could melt into his scent, but right now? she could drown in it and die happy. with his scent getting stronger the closer katsuki clambered toward you, the more the head haze grew-- the slicker your thighs became. the whimper you let loose was pitiful, the need for some sort of stimulation to your cunt becoming near painful the longer you remained so close yet so far from katsuki. the pathetic little “alpha” you whined as you heard him quickly approach from behind would’ve been utterly embarrassing to you in any other situation.

but if you could have turned to see katsuki, you would’ve been met with the look of an unmistakably feral alpha-- pupils dilated to hell, fingernails blackened, and canines elongated and sharpened. but what you lacked in sight, you could hear and smell.

katsuki was the definition of an alpha as is, but the way he was pushing his scent out was like a big red sign that screamed ‘DANGER’. To you, it had you feeling utterly submissive-- if you weren’t already face down and ass up you certainly would’ve moved into position. practically salivating at the thought of what katsuki could do--

the heated palm on the globe of your ass is thought pausing, the sudden heated touch coaxing a sugary sweet moan from deep in your throat-- the small touch quickly turning to rough palming at your moaning. tt feels so good, but you want more. need more.

“Please, need more Alpha” it's breathy and whiny, something you're far from day to day but it feels too natural escaping you. mewling at the ghost of a touch over your clothed cunt, your blubbering when it presses harder-- escalating you to tears of frustration when it ceases. practically feeling katsuki’s harsh breathing near your cunt you begin to wiggle and wail with all manner of unrestrained vigor; chanting alpha and katsuki like a prayer and begging for relief like a sinner for forgiveness. it’s working, you know it is, if katsuki’s breathing is anything to go by but he refuses any further touching. you want katsuki everyday, but right now you need him.

“Only want you Katsuki, please it’s only been you,” you hiccup your words through a shrill plea, but the tearing of your soaked spandex sends an excited chill down your spine. your legs tremble with excitement when katsuki grips the tops of your thighs and spreads them-- revealing your drooling cunt. it’s both too much and not enough all at once and you wiggle once more, yelping from a smack to your left ass cheek. it’s not particularly painful, not even as katsuki rubs over it right after the hit, but it quells your wiggling nonetheless. you open your mouth to urge him on but he beats you to it.

“No one else, you got that ‘mega? No one gets to see you like this, no gets to touch you like this-- your mine,” he punctuates his declaration with two of his deliciously thick fingers in your cunt and you squeal, “ you got that? I’m your alpha, always have been always will be.” nodding despite yourself, you struggle for words with his fingers pumping in and out alongside the ghost of pressure on your clit “Yes! Yes, I’m yours Katsuki!” you babble your words already teetering on the precipice of your first orgasm. it takes a pickup in pace and a rough rub along your clit and your wailing, slick streaming down your thighs as your first orgasm crashes into you.

despite the pleasant haze in your head, you faintly hear zippers being undone and the shuffling of clothes. licking your lips, you perk your ass up as much as the heavy bookcase allows, purring in excitement like a spoiled cat. The rough grab of your hips leaves you gasping, feeling the length of katsukis dick along your thigh-- long and heavy. you're salivating as he lines himself up with your weeping cunt, ramming his entire length in you with little regard. stars shoot across your vision and your ears deafen, crying out at being so full. it feels wonderful being stuffed this full and you babble it to katsuki. if you could see him, you would see just how prideful and smug he looked-- only he can take care of you like this, none of the other shitty alphas can take care of you this well.

katsuki sets a rough pace, drawing himself out slowly like he’s aiming for you to feel every vein of his dick before slamming back into you. your poor cunt clenches sporadically, drawing groans and growls from your alpha and all you can do is choke on broken moans because the way he feels churning your insides is downright sinful. you felt a band begin to tighten in your belly, your broken moans evolving into babbling-- how good katsuki was making you feel and how he was the only one who made you feel this good. it spurred him onward, fucking into you with more vigor alongside groans of your names and his own praise for you. “Good fuckin ‘mega”, “Takin’ me so well”, and “My perfect little mate” were some of the praise you could catch and had you preening. All of it combined you felt the band tighten and you couldn’t stop yourself from sobbing out. feeling the base of Katsuki’s length begin to swell, you could only salivate at the thought of being knotted.

“Want your knot Katsuki! Alpha I need it”

at your blubbering demand, katsuki faltered in pace for only a moment before a deep mix of a groan and growl ripped from his throat. grabbing and bending your leg upwards he fucked deeper and faster into your battered cunt, the new angle sending you hurtling into your orgasm. eyes rolled back and tongue, you felt utterly boneless-- momentarily brain dead before screaming out at Katsuki knotting you, his own groan of pleasure mixing with yours as he filled you impossibly full with his seed.

trembling underneath him, you were only a fraction aware of movement above you before the weight of the bookcase vanished from you. weakly you glance back up at your alpha. your surprised to see just how feral he looks, no doubt you’ve pushed him into his rut. whimpering as he moves down upon you, he nibbles and kisses along your jaw and neck before biting down on you scent gland. a flash a white hot pain curtailed by just as intense pleasure wracks your wrecked body but the dopy look of happiness pulls a low purr from katsuki.

you wanna say something, anything, but your too exhausted and as katsuki knot subsides you let another weak whimper as he removes himself-- feeling his seed spill from your battered cunt. he pulls a quiet moan from you as he gathers some of it a pushes back in-- and a glance at his smug face lets you know that he’s decidedly not done with you yet.

#miki mouse whorehouse collab #whorehouse compilation [rawdog 1080p] (try not to cum)#stuckage #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #abo #alpha/beta/omega #omegaverse #alpha katsuki #omega reader #self indulgent in that I want more alpha katsuki #so #I'll do it myself #happy belated valentines whores <3

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flowerflamestars · 3 years

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i remember that you once said something about privateer nesta could you elaborate? please? *shrek cat eyes*

WHO TOLD YOU I AM COMPLETELY VULNERABLE TO THE CAT EYES??

okay, so admittedly I don't remember the context in which I said this?? But I still SUPER super love the idea

and it matches with what we'll call the Dream ACOTAR Extended Universe Plot, almost canon.

We begin with the final battle against Hybern. Tamlin dies, closing the loop of his tragic, misspent life. Amren stays dead, a magical being on to the next adventure.

Rhysand stays dead.

He functionally (magically) threw himself on a bomb, and took the whole blast. He's not the Cauldron- and no one man could repair what it once was, but he could contain the fatal, drastic implosion of an object that was meant to endure forever, fractured into more and more peices.

Why is this important?

Because it leaves a world where Feyre Archeron- twenty-ish, romantic hero, prop, prisoner- becomes High Lady in her own, true right.

(I don't think she's necessarily good at this job, because why would she be? It's not even her fault- Feyre has no idea about how faery politics work, no real tangible knowledge of her own inherited kingdom.)

But both the men who stole her and defined her and loved her and hurt her are dead.

And it not only sets her on a journey to become, on her own, an actual character in her own life, but it galvanizes the Archeron sisters.

Feyre's basically fucking comatose after the battle. Elain has been a mess this entire time, but after that last fight with Grayson, walking into the war and stabbing a king in the throat- she is as vital and herself as Nesta has seen her in years.

Nesta just watched her father die and felt nothing- and she hates herself for it. She and Elain had taken the head of the man who stole everything from them- and she doesn't have a single regret.

Feyre screamed until she could no longer- there's so much magic seething out her it hurts to look at-

There's a dark well inside herself that could rise. But why should Nesta let it? So what, if she doesn't mourn her father? He'd never cared about her and Elain- not when they were young, too busy and important to even speak to his own children. Not when they lost everything, and he'd tried one last time to sell them both into marriages to recoup the family loss. Not after, in the starving cold, no matter what she'd tried to force him into action.

Nesta had been mourning all along a human girls human life- what is an absent, neglectful, shitty in the most ordinary of ways human parent if not a part of that lost future?

Their sister owns a fucking country- their sister is, at this minute so hemmed in by her followers no one can see her, much less comfort her- there's a war camp falling apart around them- there's Nesta, Elain, and Azriel, unhurt, upright, alive.

(she does not let herself think that an hour before she'd been ready to die and thought it right, the ending the meant to be conclusion of her story. she does not think about how she'd wished Cassian healed beneath her hands and that he had healed, that she'd wept to learn she could do more than destroy.

that she'd still been weeping, her mouth bright with his blood, when he'd pulled away, dragged himself to Morrigan's waiting arms)

Nesta Archeron is alive. Her sisters are alive. They're free, and she'll be fucking damned if this all falls apart before Feyre can heal.

Nesta turns to Azriel and asks if he can take control of the legions.

She has no time for his blank, angry eyes- she knows he's hurt, he's mourning, he's lost- but she needs him. Cassian's...down. Rhys is dead. Feyre and Morrigan are not coming out of that tent.

And he just listens. Thoughtfully. Asks what Nesta intends to do.

And Nesta looks at Elain- soft, kind, gentle Elain who'd never once wavered now when life was on the line. Who hadn't cried a tear for their father, or for the man who'd kidnapped and then married their baby sister.

The danger wasn't over- and neither had the steel faded from Elain's spine.

Nesta tells Azriel she's going to find Keir.

Nesta isn't blind- she's walked the Hewn City, spoken to the eldest darkness. She was also at the joke of a Summit- Autumn wants new territory, Keir wants to rule Night. And here Night is, weakened, a lamb to slaughter.

Nesta's not going to lose again- she's not going to give these ancient, cruel lords another chance.

Elain grabbed her hand and squeezed- the one person, always, who Nesta never need explain herself to.

Aren't the High Fae technically Morrigan's Elain asked, a bare whisper as they walked through the camp.

It went without saying yes, but Nesta had never seen any indication they respected her enough to listen to her. She made a face, and Elain made one right back, rueful. She had eyes too, after all.

They're not going to listen to us in these clothes, Elain also told her.

She was right, of course. They were High Fae, and that mattered to those vile pricks, but they'd been outfitted for flight. She would do almost anything, actually, to be free of leather pants.

Which Elain, a gleam in her eye that Nesta was learning meant magic, dreamy and happy- led her precisely to a gold topped tent, stepped inside, bowed, and asked without a trace of hesitation if Helion Spellcleaver, Lord of Day, would perhaps do them the favor of loaning them some garments.

Solid gold eyes gleaming against blood and smoke tinged dark skin, beautiful, glorious Helion, smiled.

Day-white against Night- but also, Nesta knew, taking care with her crown of a braid, the splatter of blood left on her throat, her mouth, her cheeks like fine paint- white was the color of death.

Elain covered herself completely- shawl wrapped over her hair, tucked around her neck, breathing easier now, in human modesty- but hung from a golden belt that Helion, with the clear air of someone who knew something about seers, had found, metal hammered with stars and flames, was Truthteller, the long blade without a sheathe, black metal swallowing up light.

Keir was easy to find, and in fine form, surrounded by Darkbringers, who looped back behind the sisters the second they were close.

Nesta was not afraid- she'd thrown power into the sky and it had hurt. Not in depth, but because she was still holding on- it wanted out-it wanted to devour-

Elain dipped a flagrantly rude, swallow bob of a curtsey. Nesta didn't even bother- just let Keir hail them, royal family that they were. He liked the sound of his own voice, but he was also clever- they'd come here of their own volition and now they were trapped.

She could smell the reinforcements, the utter Autumn reek.

Nesta interrupted, and asked Keir to come and swear fealty to her sister.

It was never going to get the right answer, but it had to be said. It had to be heard.

She'd been right- they'd been right- Keir enjoyed the cruelty of getting close to Nesta, denying straight to her Archeron face that no, Rhysand's bloodline was ended. It was time, it was right, for the House of Truth to once more hold their throne.

He spoke his treason aloud, looming over Nesta- close enough to touch.

So Nesta did.

She'd willed Cassian alive and whole. It was so, so much easier to remember fire, death, drowning, to push and want the revolting man's destruction.

And when he fell, silvered fire that had filled his lungs spilling from his throat, Nesta did not flinch. She looked to the next lieutenant, a frankly indistinguishable golden haired pale-eyed blandly handsome man in black armor, and asked, if he, as the new commander of the Darkbringers, would like to give a different answer.

He did.

Azriel met them halfway back to Feyre, grim mouth flickering for a second at the sight of Elain, before looking, stone-faced, at Nesta beside her, leading a crowd of the highest ranked Night Court faeries she could find.

Keir? He asked.

Dead, Elain answered, and that was that.

The Shadowsinger fell in step with the Seer, a threatening shadow to two pale beacons.

It was Azriel who actually went inside the tent. Who said what needed to said, what made Morrigan splutter loudly enough to be heard outside, before she burst out the tent in a whorl of hair, before blanching.

Nesta had just enough control not to roll her eyes. They come to swear fealty.

And Morrigan, chewing her lip with all the dignity of a child- Elain and Nesta had been trained out of such gestures at eight, what did she think was happening here? - shook her head. She's not well, it can wait.

No, Azriel said, from behind her, it can't.

He was supporting what looked like the entirety of Feyre's weight. Dead-white, blue eyes a blaze, Feyre looked blearily out at all of them like she recognized no one.

Elain, treasure that she was, came forward to take her sister's other hand, whispering both condolence and explanation.

And so the High Houses of Night knelt in battlefield mud, and swore eternal loyalty to the youngest Archeron.

It was only after they were gone that Nesta hugged her sister- hard enough Feyre protested, a fresh batch of tears soaking Nesta's shoulder even before Elain joined them.

It's Azriel, voice a little less like a phantom, who tells Feyre they're handling things. That if she wants to rest more, that's fine.

She was so clearly shattered- Nesta half wondered how much of that Azriel can literally feel/hear with his shadow...things.

Feyre protests that there's things to do- Feyre makes it halfway through a sentence about plans before she says Rhysand's name like he's still alive and collapses in on herself like a wave crashing.

Nesta and Elain tuck Feyre back into the blanket pile. Nesta manages to kiss her forehead before Morrigan is there, hugging Feyre putting herself bodily between the sisters.

They leave, and outside, Azriel is waiting.

To hand Nesta a gaudy, enormous platinum ring. The seal of the Night Court- Nesta recognizes it from shipping manifests, but she'd never actually seen it as an adult. Here, as a faery.

Her thoughts on Azriel's powers hold true, as he answers the dismay: Rhys only used it when he had to. It had passed between the whole Court of Dreams hands, there had not been a vizier, a lord of stars, since the time of Rhysand's father.

Nesta puts on the hideous ring, barely flinching at the brush of magic, it resizing to her hand.

Elain grasps her other, squeezing, and asks Azriel who is next.

They work ceaselessly, pausing only to sleep. Azriel, Nesta is quite sure, isn't sleeping at all- until she goes looking for him with a question and finds him finally, finally out cold, face tucked in Lucien Vanserra's neck.

In silence and gestures, they come to something of an agreement- and when the Night Court comes to the table to talk peace, it's with Lucien. Jurian, who Nesta immediately liked.

By the time they return to the North, there is not a Lord one who does not know the names and nightmarish qualities of all three Archeron sisters.

Feyre mourns, and learns to govern slow. Cassian goes back to Illyria and does not return for a long, long time. Morrigan becomes Feyre's second- Nesta laughs, not altogether kind, when Lucien tells her this. No one has been able to answer her as to why, if Morrigan is so powerful, why did she not fight? what does she actually do?

What answers to her questions she does find are appalling. Why does Winter block our every turn? oh, Rhysand killed more than a dozen children. Why is Summer refusing our trade? Well, Rhysand stole their ancestral pride. Why is the Hewn City so wrathful at even the slightest form of intervention? Because Rhysand had left Keir to rule alone.

Nesta doesn't want to rule the fucking court. She thinks she could leave all of these politicians to rot- but she won't let Feyre misstep her way to death, shouldering a burden of her dead mate.

There's nothing they can give Winter but apology and so that's what Nesta does. On her knees, in a gilded palace of ice, stars caught in her hair and the seal on her. Kallias, bright and young, seems to know something about inherited problems- he does not ever forget, but he forgives, at least, the Archerons.

Summer is more complicated- but Nesta does what she can. Gives them every melted, ruined piece of the Book. Offers reparations for the next millennia. Ends up paying for what she is appalled and embarrassed to learn is a two hundred year old debt for a building the head of the Night Court's armed forces- Cassian, fucking Cassian the ghost haunting Nesta- had destroyed. During a brawl. At a solstice party.

She deals only with Cressieda, and they come to understand each other very well.

Nesta was not raised for politics and bullshit- her mother wanted her to marry a crown, but Nesta wanted the family empire. Trade. The Archeron legacy, denied to a girl. She likes Summer more than any place in Prythian, and she doesn't hide that. She relearns old lessons of tide and routes in secret, before Cressieda reveals that of course, she knows who the Archerons were.

It goes well, until Morrigan finds out what she's been doing, and tells Feyre.

The youngest Archeron had been doing better. Morrigan has been right by her side, through everything. Cassian is in Illyria, and Feyre understands why, writing him letters. She writes letters to Rhys too, if only to have a way to direct the words.

Azriel, spectral and busy she sees the least of, but Feyre never doubts his presence, keeping her safe. Elain comes, drags her out into sunlight, brings Lucien and it makes Feyre happy to see them together. Nesta comes too, with them both and alone, with papers from Feyre to sign, with affection sharp-edged but true.

Feyre knows she owes them all more than can be said- she's not stupid, she knows they're keeping Night together. That slowly those responsibilities will fall to her, when she's ready.

She does not think about how much of those responsibilities is cleaning up the tangled mess of betrayal Rhysand left behind. In her head, there is only Rhys- beloved and shadowed, kind and tortured.

Until Morrigan tells her that it's been acknowledged, in public, by Night, that Rhysand was a thief, and a murder of children.

Feyre loses her shit.

Rhysand had done what he had to. Who was Nesta, to say such things? She'd always hated Rhys. Rhys had always hated her, maybe he was right- the children. Rhys had mourned them in screaming nightmares, but he hadn't hurt them-

(Feyre does not stop to think it strange, that Rhys could have nightmares of memories not his own. That he might have fractured just a bit, under Amarantha. That the Red Lady had no daemati- that was why she'd kept Rhys all along.)

The fight is as ugly as can be imagined. And what proceeds is of course, worse. Feyre says terrible things she will ultimately regret and apologize for, but what becomes clear is that Morrigan thinks that Nesta means to hold power forever.

That she's taken advantage.

And Cassian, called home by rage, believes her.

That is, more than her ungrateful sister, more than the ongoing weight of cleaning up after a man she despised for good reason, the end of Nesta Archeron's Night Court career.

She'd thought she loved him- she'd been willing to die with him- but they'd lived. This was the life, the next life, and what did he think of her? That Nesta was a power hungry snob. That she was paying too much heed to politics.

That Nesta belonged quietly at home. That she should have learned to fight somewhere along that way- a point so convoluted it made Lucien laugh- that she hadn't learned anything that mattered.

That she had no right to kill Keir, because it had hurt Morrigan.

Had he ever, Nesta would wonder later, even liked her? Enjoyed anything about her but for that magical tether, telling him he was blessed with something special?

Nesta was something special, and she knew it.

And so she returned the ring to Azriel, packed up her possessions, and left.

First to Day, where Elain had bought a house. Fury and tears both met the explanation of what happened- fury and tears that turned to getting inadvisably drunk in sunlight, when Lucien and Azriel snuck away to join them.

For the first time in Nesta's adult life, she had no obligations. Magic, money, freedom- the whole world was out there.

She stopped wearing black. Learned pants where actually lovely, when they fit correctly and weren't made of leather. Learned Azriel could laugh, and Lucien was as clever as she'd always thought.

She read books, she ate fruit, she took Helion up on several of his more lascivious offers.

She thought of Cassian, and it ached, but not enough to go backward.

Elain's house was by the sea, right on the water. The scent of salt reminded Nesta of Summer- but also of her oldest, most secret dreams. The warehouses of goods, like mysteries to solve. The account books she stole, learning by candlelight the trade in her blood.

Ten years after the war, Nesta bought a ship.

She set out to be a merchant, use what she knew, but what happened was this: Nesta Archeron did not care anymore for rules. And so when she came upon Hybernian remnants-for they were an island kingdom, even more one with the water than Prythian- pillaging a Summer town, she destroyed them.

She stole their treasure, gave much of it back to the people.

Found, unexpected, that she had much more of a taste for marauding than she would have expected. There was still trade of course- proft made and shared- but Summer needed someone willing to do some destroying out on the sea.

Twelve years after the war, Nesta Archeron became a privateer under the Summer flag, pearls in her hair and a true smile on her lips.

Things grew, as all things do. Feyre wrestled herself the reins of government, stymied by the councils Nesta and Azriel set up as much as she often was by Azriel himself out of truly petulant action. Morrigan remained second, golden blades bright as her gowns within reach. Cassian became a sort of seneschal, reigning over Illyria in Feyre's name cold and alone as the wind through the mountains.

(Feyre thought he might never get over the war, but Azriel knew the truth.)

Elain took herself wherever the future led, a sort of mediator and councilor, walking in all Courts- but always back to home, that isolated green, green cove, where Nesta would land.

When war came again, there was no great Lordly alliance, no cut-throat summit. There was a fleet of ships whose sails where edged in purple, whose announcement across the water was silver fire, whose accompaniment were monsters of old.

Violence did not touch Prythians human shore, because Nesta Archeron did not let it.

She was death on the tide, and she remembered what shores had borne her.

She had a home in Summer, a place in Day, her family across the continent- she had her ships, full of faeries from every walk of life, who wanted as she did the freedom as much as the profit, the endless, endless blue, where sea meets sky.

It was eternity, and the Archeron sisters, free, had made it their own.

#i'm sorry this is literally a novel #but!!!#this is my dream plot actually #all about legacy and complicated feelings #the total failure of cassian as a partner #of rhys as a ruler #of feyre as a sister!!#there's so much love in the end but its not easy love #and they do have to fight for it #Nesta Archeron has always been exactly who she is and that shouldn't have to change #Elain has never GOTTEN to be who she is and that should change #Feyre standing alone is all i want yall #a true overturning of the patriarchy actually #yes this a luzreil universe #Elain...mhmm.... definitely just has a string a very romantic love affairs #marriage as a prospect caused her so much pain #she's done #I feel like Mor comes off almost too badly in this #but like #she would??#she's SO possessive of her people #and totally weird about Feyre's sister's from the start #Nesta having power?#Nesta having Azriel's backing?#NESTA BEING CASSIAN'S MATE?#its never going to go well

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erensangel444 · 3 years

Text

i think i’m falling in love

oikawa tōru x reader

the title is inspired by i think by tyler the creator :-)

this fic is oikawa x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

this would be oikawa in his last year(when he was a third-year), for this fic, the reader would also be a third-year!

a/n: i remember when i first started watching haikyū!! i had hated oikawa, and now looking back i don’t know how. he’s a beautifully written character and like actually thinking about it makes me so sad. he tries so hard and just :( i’m gonna start crying about it again.

there’s a lot of fluff in this fic, probably the most i’ve ever written, but there’s also smut cause you know your girl couldn’t resist🙄

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), drug usage(just weed, small mention), alcohol consumption, smut; semi-public sex(bathroom at a party), oral(fem and male!receiving), unprotected sex(use of the shitty pull-out method, practice safe sex don’t be a weirdo), dryhumping.

word count: 5.3k

summary: moments in oikawa tōru’s life that helped him come to the conclusion that he was in love with you.

oikawa didn’t think love was a real thing, and he knows that’s cliché, but it’s the truth. did you know that around 40-50% percent of marriages end in divorce? what’s the point in getting married if there’s only half a chance of it lasting? oikawa thought it seemed like too much work.

until he saw you, and then, maybe, he thought it might be worth it to work that hard. maybe he could understand why couples stay together despite the fights, the yelling matches. maybe he could take a stab at love.

or not. he expected you to fawn over him the first time you met, like most girls do(men too!), but you didn’t. in all honesty, you seemed bored while conversing with oikawa. you shattered his newly-born hopes of love...well maybe that’s a little dramatic, but oikawa was always one for the dramatic flair.

from that moment forward, he had deduced that he strongly disliked you, at least he had until that one day in math class. he was struggling, the equations on the pages seeming like an entirely different language. he was huffing out breaths in frustration, roughly erasing the writing his pencil had made.

he was certain he was doomed, there was a test tomorrow and this review made no sense, yet there was a glimmer of hope when he felt that light tap on his shoulder.

he looked up, meeting your eyes, all doe-like, a light blush on your cheeks as you sentence stumbled from your lips, “h-hey um it seemed like you were a little confused, um i-i could help if you’d want,”. oikawa couldn’t do anything but stare up at you, “or- or not! maybe it was rude for me to come over here, sorry-” “no, i could actually use some help,”. oikawa’s response caused a smile to show on your face, and for a split second he dreamt of making you smile like that for the rest of your life.

he brought himself back to reality, remembering his declared disdain towards you, but all of it slowly drifted away as you grabbed a chair from a nearby table, setting it down next to oikawa’s desk and sitting down. “so what’s confusing you?” you asked, your voice soft as you peered up at oikawa.

he couldn’t control the slight blush that rushed to his cheeks, calming himself down before he spoke, “well i’m confused on the variables, and i don’t understand what i’m supposed to do after setting it equal to zero, and it doesn’t help that the professor doesn’t teach for shit,” he whispered the last part, causing you to laugh a little as you grabbed the pencil from his hand.

oikawa shuddered at your laugh, and at the contact of your hand on his, even if it was for a slight moment. there was too much of you stimulating him at once, fuck, what were you doing to him?

“i know he fucking sucks,” you responded, the word slipping out of your mouth seeming so foreign to oikawa, even if he had only talked to you for a couple minutes, but he liked it, nonetheless. “okay so,” you turned oikawa’s paper slightly towards you, “after setting it equal to 0, you have factor the quadratic equation,”. your handwriting looked so neat compared to his, so delicate. he listened intently as you continued writing on the paper, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips.

after explaining it to him, he tried one at your request, the math seeming easier now, no eraser marks littering the page. after checking his answer, you grinned at oikawa, lifting your hand up. oikawa was confused for a moment, smiling after realizing, and softly high-fiving you.

oikawa started to notice you in the hallways after that day in math class. you walked through the halls not necessarily confidently, but giving off an aura of aloofness. it was almost like you thought no one was paying attention to you. ‘how could you think that?’ oikawa thought. he was paying attention, he couldn’t help but to pay attention.

not when you always carried your binder under your left arm, it slipping some times, causing a slightly shocked expression to grace your blank face as you resettled it in your arms. your tote bag slang off of your right shoulder, a light cream color. he always noticed your outfits, different for every day of the week. he always thought they were cute though, fitting for you.

he noted the rings on your fingers, the necklaces you sometimes wore. some days you had on makeup, other days you were bare-face. he thought both were equally beautiful.

after a couple days of passing you in the hall, he finally worked up the courage to wave to you. his hand softly ran through the air, his arm rigid. yet, you didn’t notice him, your eyes taken by something else. the failed greeting embarrassed oikawa immensely, he remembered beating himself up about it for the rest of the day.

when he thought about trying again, he realized he should probably just call your name. which he couldn’t remember. you had met last year, and in his memory, the entire encounter was centered around his ‘dislike’ for you. you also hadn’t told him your name in math class. he racked his brain for any memory, wanting to know the name that fit your pretty face.

in the hallway the next, day he decided he’d just yell out a ‘hey!’, hoping you’d turn to him, which you did. oikawa waved at you, a smile lighting up your face -god he could get used to that- as you waved back. oikawa couldn’t help but feel your smile for the rest of the day.

he had learned your name the next day in math class, the teacher calling on you. ‘y/n’, he almost didn’t catch the teacher say it, but he did, and he was so glad he did. lying in his bed later that night, he let the word fall off his lips, your name quietly echoing throughout his room. he couldn’t imagine calling you anything else, it fit you so well.

a couple of days later(he had waved at you every day since), you were walking in the hall with a friend. more specifically a friend who was a boy. honestly it didn’t matter their gender, oikawa would’ve been jealous either way. why were they making you smile like that, and why was your binder in their arms instead of in it’s usual spot, tucked under your left arm?

he wanted to walk in the halls with you, look down at you smiling at him. he devised a plan that night, running through the scenario in his head before he fell asleep.

the next day, he called out your name as you walked out the door of the math classroom, doing a slight jog to catch up with you. “hey, um i never got to thank you,” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “for that day in math” he explained, as he continued, attempting to push down his nerves. “you really helped me,” this caused you to smile softly, and oikawa couldn’t help but smile back at you. that’s all he wanted, to make you smile.

“of course, no problem,” you had said softly. oikawa offered to walk you to your next class, and you obliged. suddenly it shifted into a daily thing, walking out of math class with you, and oikawa could get used to it.

he learned more about you every day, your favorite movie was pride and prejudice, you loved key lime pie, you had a mini-garden in your backyard, you hated shellfish, you loved painting, you never left the house without chapstick. he found himself adapting to your humor, telling jokes that he knew would make you laugh. he wanted to hear your laugh all the time, he wanted it to echo throughout his brain on a constant loop.

in math class one day, you had pulled lotion out of your bag, popping open the cap, and squirting some into your hand. upon seeing you pull it out of your bag, oikawa walked over to your desk with his hand held out, “can i have some?” his voice was light as he looked down at you, a dollop of lotion in your hand. “yeah!” you said softly, rubbing some of the lotion from your hand onto oikawa’s.

he had just expected you to give him some from the bottle, and he could walk back to his desk, happy with the small encounter. now as he walked back to his desk, he was happy, so happy, but reeling at your touch. he wanted to feel your hand on his again, he longed for it now, knowing now what it felt like. why couldn’t you just give him lotion from the bottle?

oikawa had gathered the courage to ask for your number a couple days later, and to his delight you smiled after telling him that you planned to ask him for his. the idea caused him to smile internally as he wondered if you thought about him as much as he thought about you.

the nights after he had put his number in your phone were spent texting you. he’d send you random tweets that he’d thought you’d like, and videos that reminded you of him -he wouldn’t ever tell you that, though. one night when he had decided to watch pride and prejudice, for no apparent reason, he sent you a picture, to which you replied with a picture of your hand covering your mouth, your eyes lit up. he stared at the picture for a solid five minutes, unable to tear his eyes away.

you looked so pretty, your hair up in a bun, your eyes looking up at the camera. he finally shut off his phone, turning back to the movie, excited to see you the next day.

one night, oikawa texted and asked you if you wanted to facetime. instant regret filled him after sending the text, his search history littered with ‘how to delete imessage’ ‘is there a way to delete message on iphone’. he opened the text app back up, three bubbles popping up on the screen. they disappeared shortly after, oikawa’s regret increasing.

he threw his phone down on the bed, shoving his head into his pillow as he muttered, “fuckin’ stupid, god what am i doi-”, a text message ping interrupting his self-deprecating mumbles. the text from you read, ‘hey, sorry just got out the shower, i was trying to text before but i got a fucking eyelash in my eye LMAO’ oikawa chuckled at your message, a second one popping up below, ‘lemme get dressed rq and then i’ll call u:D’.

oikawa had so many thoughts rushing through his brain. you were in the shower? after rationalizing, he realized he shouldn’t be surprised that you showered, it was just the fact that you were naked in the shower. and if you were getting dressed now, that means you were naked while you texted him.

oikawa attempted to shift his thoughts elsewhere, chastising himself in his head for being a ‘perv’. he didn’t need a boner while he was on a facetime call with you. he thought about how you offered to call him, did you really want to? he had hoped you weren’t just doing this to pity him.

his phone rang, interrupting his slew thoughts, your name flashing against his screen. he fumbled for his phone, his finger hesitating before he hit the green button. “hi,” you said softly. oikawa took in your appearance, a few water droplets still falling from your hair, your eyebrows slightly disheveled, cheeks a light pink. “hey” he responded.

“why’d you wanna facetime?” you asked, oikawa blushing more at your question, ready to respond before you continued. “not that i didn’t want to too, cause i did, i do, i w-was just wondering why you wanted to,” oikawa smiled at the camera before speaking. “well i thought that we really needed to discuss the plot holes in pride and prejudice,”.

oikawa had spent the whole night talking to you, reluctantly hanging up at 4AM.

the nights after that were followed by facetime calls, oikawa’s mom knocking on his door and telling him to quiet down, his laughter too loud. on one call, he had invited you to his volleyball game the next day, and you quickly said that you’d ‘love to go’, oikawa’s smile growing.

surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous. oikawa knew he was good at volleyball, everybody did. he knew that this was a moment where he could show off in front of you. what if he hits the net on a serve though?

okay, so maybe he was a little nervous, but he wouldn’t let his nerves consume him. stepping onto the court, he did his best not to look up at the crowd, not wanting to see your smiling face in the stands. he was set to serve first, the volleyball in his hands a familiar feeling, comforting him.

the power behind his serve was incredible, one of the best one’s he’s hit, he thought to himself. the ball landed right in the corner of the opposing team’s court, before bouncing out of bounds.

a service ace right out the bat. oikawa cheered in his head, his teammates patting him on the back. “are you gonna look for her now or what,” iwaizumi said to him, ever so-bluntly, “looking down at the floor like a pussy,” hajime muttered the last part. “iwa-chan!” oikawa slightly raised his voice, his eyes looking up towards the stands.

you had secured a seat in the front row, and when oikawa noticed your face he couldn’t help but smile. you were grinning down at him, waving like a lunatic, causing him to lightly chuckle. he waved back, the volleyball being handed back to him as he set up for his second serve.

you had waited outside the locker room for him, and when he walked out with iwaizumi and issei, he spotted you leaning against the wall parallel to the locker room door, scrolling through your phone. hearing the door open, you looked up, meeting oikawa’s smiling face.

“hey,” he said softly, his heart doing flips at the fact that you waited for him. you responded softly with a ‘hi’, holding your arms open for a hug. oikawa couldn’t help but grin, his heartbeat growing in pace as he pulled you in for a hug, his arms falling to the small of your back. “did so good,” you said, your voice muffled by his chest.

“thank you,” he smiled at you, “for-for uh coming,” “of course,” you smiled back at him. suddenly an awkward tension had consumed the conversation, both of you peering at the other, than looking away, the silent words behind your looks so obvious. “so i- “i just-”, you both started at the same time. you laughed, oikawa joining in as he motioned for you to go first.

“um, i-i came today because i wanted to, but also cause i wanted to ask you something,” oikawa nodded for you to continue, biting his lip in anticipation. “i feel like i’m not just imaging things here, and i don-don’t want you to think you are either,” you hesitated for a moment, oikawa noticing it before speaking up, “i like you,” he said abruptly. he could feel his blood pumping, feel his heart beating on his chest. you smiled at him, eyes wide, “i-i like you too,”. you both stared at each other in silence, the eye contact easier. “what now?” you said jokingly, oikawa laughing. “wanna go get mcdonald’s?”

the first few weeks with you had been bliss, oikawa thinks that he’s died and floated up to heaven. you’ve gone on small adventures together, late night drives, reveling in the honeymoon-like phase of your new relationship. now, oikawa sits across from you atop the striped picnic blanket. oikawa knew that this past week had been stressful for you with school and some stuff going on with your friends so he decided to surprise you with a picnic.

he got sushi from your favorite place, ordering a wide-spread of different rolls and then picked up two boba drinks before heading to your house. much to your dismay, he wouldn’t tell you where you were going until you could hear the water brushing along the shoreline, oikawa had taken you to the beach.

now, there you sat on the blanket on the sand, sushi laid out in front of you as you took in the beautiful day, a slight breeze brushing past your figures, small clouds in the sky. oikawa grabbed a california roll with his chopsticks, bringing it over to you as you opened for mouth for the food. “so good,” you mumbled mouth full of california roll causing oikawa to chuckle.

“my mom asked about you today,” oikawa noticed the slight hiccup in your breath as he continued, “wants to meet you,” you stayed silent, peering at oikawa. “no pressure, if you don’t want to, i just wanted to let you know,”. you took a sip from you drink before you spoke, “no i want to. just nervous, don’t wanna make a fool of myself,”. oikawa smiled at that, happy that you wanted to make a good impression with his mom. “she’ll love you,” he said softly, blush rushing to your cheeks.

“here you have to try this tuna roll,” you said, the roll between your chopsticks and headed for oikawa’s mouth. “mmm so good,” oikawa said mimicking your response, making a show of the food in his mouth. you laughed before shoving him, “you’re disgusting,”

oikawa had picked you up for dinner at his house, and now here you both were, in his car, in the driveway of his home. he could see you bouncing your leg, your bottom lip taken in by your teeth. “you’re gonna be fine, i promise she’ll love you,” “i hope so,” you said, your voice so quiet.

oikawa racked his brain for a way to help calm your nerves, settling for a kiss. his lips met yours, and you whimpered at the abruptness, but kissed him back. your leg stopped it’s incessant bouncing, and oikawa smiled at you. “alright i’m ready,” you said softly. you reached for the car door, oikawa stopping you with an ‘uh uh uh’, exiting the driver side of the car and running over to the passenger side to open your door.

“my knight in shining armor,” you joked, oikawa grinning at you. the pair of you walked to his front door, hand in hand. oikawa wasn’t nervous, he knew his mom would love you because she knew that he loved you. woah. he loved you. or maybe it was the excitement of the night forcing him to say those words. he pushed the thought away, opening his front door as he yelled out a “i’m home!”

his mom ran over from the kitchen, looking to you and then oikawa and smiling so brightly. “hi!” she said, her voiced laced with excitement as she shuffled over to you, pulling you in for a hug, “i’m a hugger,” you laughed, hugging her back.

“oikawa’s talked about you so much,” “mom!” your smile grew. you took off your shoes, setting them neatly next to the door, oikawa’s mom leading you to the kitchen. it smelled amazing, meat buns sat in a container on the stove, orange chicken in a separate container next to them. white rice was in the steamer, the whole kitchen filled with wonderful smells.

oikawa pulled out a chair for you as you thanked him, sitting down. eventually the food was in front of you, oikawa had made your plate for you, asking if you wanted anything to drink. he began rambling, listing off options, but you opted for water in not wanting to be difficult.

you all sat, oikawa’s mom and you discussing your current course schedule in school as she smiled “oikawa bagged a smart and pretty one, i raised him right,”. you couldn’t help but blush at her words, oikawa smiling at your reaction.

dinner had left your stomach happy, oikawa’s mom giving you another hug when you left and making you promise that you’d be back soon. oikawa ushered you into his car, holding your door open for him. he told his mom you were driving to get icecream from somewhere, and that wasn’t necessarily a lie.

you had gotten the icecream, it’s just that now it sat, forgotten in the passenger seat as you straddled oikawa in the backseat, your mouths moving against each other, your hips grinding on his. “fuck,” oikawa panted against your lips, the friction of your hips grinding on his feeling indescribable.

before you knew it, you were grinding on oikawa’s lap like a woman possessed, set on reaching your high. “tōru,” your voice sounded so soft, oikawa did a double take. he’d only heard his first name slip past your lips one time, and the desperation that came with it this time had his cock straining in his pants even more.

“g-gonna cum!” you yelped, your hips stuttering from the pleasure. oikawa’s hands drifted to your hips, rocking you on his lap, wanting you to reach your high, but also desperate for his own. your whimpers increased in volume as you finally reached your orgasm, your face contorting in pleasure. seeing you come on his lap was all oikawa need to cream his pants, the liquid seeping through the fabric of his boxers and black jeans.

you both panted, catching your breath, your head laying in oikawa’s shoulder. “that was fucking hot,” oikawa remarked, causing you to laugh and remove your head from his shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss.

oikawa had invited you over a couple nights later to watch a movie. you had come over in plaid pajama pants and one of oikawa’s hoodies that you had borrowed last week. you were laid in his bed, snuggling into his figure, Love, Rosie playing on his laptop. As the movie progressed, and the popcorn disappeared from the bowl, you began to slowly drift into sleep, feeling comfort from being so close to oikawa.

as the movie neared it’s end, oikawa could hear your light breaths, looking down at your sleeping figure. drool had slightly started to dribble out of your mouth, your eyes were shut ever so softly, and you looked so peaceful. so angelic, oikawa thought. he wanted to wake up to this, to you for the rest of his life.

‘getting ahead of myself’ oikawa reasoned, pushing away any and all thoughts of the future as he relished in your sleeping features and irked at the funny feeling in his stomach, was it butterflies? it was something, because he felt it whenever he saw you. you turned his brain to mush, made his heart beat faster. oikawa’s love for you was so obvious on a physical level just based on how he reacted to anything and everything you did.

his love for you was obvious, wasn’t it? did you know he loved you? he loves you. ‘i love you’ the words softly fell from his lips, the breaths still falling from your lips as you slept.

your parents were out of town, your mom on a business trip, your dad visiting some friends in the states. you had invited oikawa over to bake some brownies, but somehow baking led to his head now being buried between your thighs.

“oh my-tōru!” you moaned, oikawa’s tongue working magic on your clit. he changed from kitten licks to sucking, moaning into your center, the vibrations making you whimper even more. his fingers plunged in and out of your entrance.

oikawa had transcended from himself, or at least he thought he had. there was no way he was buried between your thighs right now, your pretty moans sounding from above him. there was no way he was holding eye contact with you as he sucked on your clit, admiring the blush accompanying your features.

“gonna cum for me angel?” oikawa wanted you to come so bad, he wanted you to feel good, he wanted to be the one to make you feel good. “yes, yes, yes-please!” oikawa increased the intensity of his tongue lapping at your clit, the pace of his fingers increasing.

one more look down at tōru had you coming, your hands moving to grip his hair as your orgasmed. panting, recovering from your orgasm, oikawa kissed up your body, nipping at your jaw up to your lips, kissing you passionately.

“did so good for me, angel,” oikawa mumbled into your lips. you pulled him in for another kiss, your hand drifting down to the bulge in his pants, palming him through the fabric.

“fuck,” oikawa softly moaned, grinding into your palm. you pushed him over, oikawa laying on the other side of the bed. your hands navigated their way to the hem of his sweatpants, tapping his hip, oikawa lifting up. you tugged the pants down his legs, his boxers along with them.

his cock bounced back to his stomach, hard and leaking precum. oikawa eyed you as your hand drifted to the base of his cock, your tongue licking at the tip, oikawa moaning loudly. he had definitely gone to heaven.

eventually your mouth and hand were moving in tandem on his cock, moans flying freely from oikawa’s lips. “fuck! y/n, god, making me feel so go-ood!”. oikawa thrusted his hips up into your mouth, his hands holding on to your hair. you placed your hands on his thigh letting him thrust into your mouth.

“go-gonna cum!” you moved one hand down to his balls, rolling them in your hand and moaning around his cock. “shit-ah!”, toru’s cum flooded your mouth as his mind went numb from the pleasure. he’d never felt like this, god, you were ruining him.

you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show tōru that you had swallowed all of his cum. “god you’re so fucking dirty,” oikawa said smirking at you, pulling you in for another kiss.

you and oikawa sat in his car, passing the joint between yourselves, staring at the sunset, stealing glances at one another. you inhaled, the joint placed between your lips, the substance filling your lungs.

oikawa couldn’t help but stare at you, “you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispered. “no you’re so fucking pretty,” you smiled at him. “we’re both fucking pretty let’s be honest,” oikawa joked, pulling you in for a kiss.

‘wanna be yours’ by artic monkeys came on shuffle through the speaker’s as you mouthed the lyrics. “i’m hungry” oikawa said plainly, “jack in the box?” you offered, oikawa turning the car into drive. more songs shuffled, oikawa turning up the volume when cupid’s chokehold blasted through the speakers.

he had rolled the windows down, his left hand hanging out the window. he turned towards you, his eyes shifting from the road to your face, singing the lyrics to you, ‘i mean she even cooks me pancakes and alka seltzer when my tummy aches,’ his hand held yours atop the console, his left hand now on the steering wheel. ‘i know i’m young but if i had to choose her or the sun i’d be one nocturnal son of a gun’ your smile grew, staring at oikawa as he pulled into the jack in the box drive-thru.

there were no other cars, oikawa pulling straight up to the machine. “hi could we get two buttery jack meals with curly fries and chocolate milkshakes for both,”, the server read back your order, telling oikawa the total, oikawa saying a curt thank you.

oikawa had pulled into a an empty parking lot, the music shifted to nights by frank ocean, both you and oikawa digging into your food. oikawa looked over at you, seemingly mesmerized by your buttery jack. you looked up at the sound of his laughter, staring at him perplexed before laughing too.

oikawa had dragged you a party that daichi was throwing. you walked in waving at a girl from your history class, oikawa dragging you to the kitchen by your hand. he grabbed two shot glasses, pouring tequila into them. he clinked his glass with yours, throwing the liquid back into his throat

you walked next to oikawa working your way through the mass of sweaty bodies, spotting hajime in the crowd. oikawa patted him on the back, iwaizumi wincing at his heavy-handiness. while oikawa talked with hajime, you whispered letting him know you were gonna go talk to kiyoko, oikawa nodding and giving you a quick kiss. he watched you walk away, your ass looking so good in those pants. his eyes traveled up your figure to your smiling face, his own smile growing.

after talking for a while, oikawa walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing your cheek. “wanna go dance?” you nodded, waving bye to kiyoko, oikawa leading you to the middle of the room. ‘can’t say’ by travis scott. oikawa’s chest pressed against your back, your hands looping around to the back of his neck.

after a few songs played, someone yelled out ‘body shots!’ people shuffling into the kitchen. oikawa pushed through the crowd bringing you to the countertop. he lifted you up to sit on the countertop, people cheering as you laid down. he poured a shot glass of tequila, sprinkling salt over your cleavage, while eyeing it heavily. he placed the lime in your mouth smirking at you.

oikawa shot back the alcohol, wincing at the burn. his tongue lolled out of his mouth, licking the salt on your cleavage, moving to your lips. his body hovered over yours, his lips meeting yours. he sucked the lime from your mouth, pulling away and spitting the lime out before moving down to your lips again, kissing you harshly. louder cheers sounded through the room.

oikawa pulled away as you blushed, grinning nonetheless. you grabbed the tequila pouring another shot and letting the liquid fall down your throat. ‘woo!’ you let out, shaking your head at the burn from the alcohol, dragging oikawa back out to the other room.

somehow, you and oikawa had navigated your way to the bathroom, tōru’s cock deep inside you as your moans accompanied the music playing throughout the house.

“g-gonna cum!” “me too, fuc-ah! come on angel, gotta come now,” oikawa pleaded with you, pushing you over the edge. oikawa pulled out, jerking himself off, and coming on your back.

“god,” he sighed, leaning on the wall next to you. you both grinned at each other, your lips meeting again.

your phone was ringing, tōru was calling. you answered as he said hi, his voice shaky. “are you okay?” you worried, oikawa assuring you everything was fine, “just come outside,”. confused, you threw on some pants and walked downstairs unlocking your front door.

“tōru? are you okay, you look sick,” “i need to tell you something,”. oikawa realizes now that maybe wording it that way was stupid, he could see in your facial expression your heart drop to your stomach. “no! nothing bad,” “oh okay” you sighed softly.

“i-i feel like i should’ve said this earlier, and i wanted t-to i just didn’t know how to,” you nodded at him, grabbing his hand and brushing your thumb along the back of his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

“i love you,” oikawa blurted out. “i love you so fucking much,” he said again. meeting your eyes, oikawa couldn’t help but feel nervous, he was stupid for doing this, he knew it too, yet all those thoughts melted away when he felt your lips on his.

“i love you too,” you said, smiling, your eyes slightly watering. though you and tōru had been dating for a decent amount of time, you both knew the weight those words carried.

tōru felt the weight of those words as they left his lips, and he wanted them to flow past his lips forever. he wanted their weight, he wanted his love to impact you and only you.

fin

yay! i loved writing this fic :D i really hope you guys enjoyed it, sending you so much love<3

#oikawa x y/n #oikawa toru smut #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa fic #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa toru fic #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū smut #haikyuu!! smut

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nohoney · 3 years

Text

fix it yourself

notes: Jealous by Eyedress low key inspired this work, I surprisingly got this done pretty quick considering that I first typed this up back in September and sorta just held onto it for a while

warnings: 18+, pretty angsty, slight codependency, implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced assault, murder, PTSD attack

summary:

Blood on your cheek, bruises around your neck, hands dirty with dried blood, you’re unnervingly calm.

“I did something…” you tell Dabi, the paramour that you easily just accepted into your life since that first dirty fuck in that alley.

“Let me in doll.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ✧

Dabi’s not necessarily the most affectionate of lovers or the nicest but he looks out for your wellbeing. He plucked you from your shit circumstances of abuse, something that he could very much relate to, and taken you to a place that he deems suitable enough for you. You’re not exactly looking for luxury, just finally a place to escape the screaming, the hitting, and the boozing. In a way, you owe Dabi your life since he had found you at just the right moment when you were ready to give up on the world.

He had first seen you outside of a club, shit faced right outside the entrance, the bass of the music still achingly loud as you threw up into the street. You were no different than any other broken face he had come across, his own including when he looked into the mirror, but you made looking sad and broken into a fucking art. To him you were like a fallen angel, wings dragging in the mud of the earth as you searched for something else to take the pain away. More booze, maybe a fling for the night, maybe a narcotic if you sought out the right people.

Dabi could see that you were corrupted long ago and he imagined in his own mind how innocent you may have been before the world threw you to the ground and pressed your face to the dirt. Were you sheltered at first, not knowing anything about the cruel reality before being thrust into it? Or maybe you were raised in toxicity, doing your best to remain pure and gold hearted before you eventually began to die inside. It’s not always like in those cheesy movies where the main hero can keep their cheery constitution in the face of adversity; in reality someone has to break. He had to know who you were, what shitty home did you drag your feet to, and he just had to have you to himself.

Never mind the story of how he was finally tired of observing you, just plucked you off the street as you were walking in the dead of night, how you eyed him up and down and liked what you saw before pushing your dress up over your hips and pulled your panties to the side for him. Dabi just fucked you in the most nearby alley, just barely able to make you keep your voice down as he thrust into you roughly from behind while pinching your clit. Never mind how he was addicted in just a matter of seconds when your pussy clenched around him and how your first words to him were, “Don’t tell me your name, just fuck me the hardest you can.”

Oh he liked you right away; not only were you broken but you were a slut too?

Dabi could have been like any other scumbag who would just finish and leave you to stumble your way back home. No, Dabi decided that you were his and that it was his duty to make sure that you made it back safe to wherever it was you called home. He wanted to be sure he would have more chances to fuck you. You didn’t look back the first time he had dropped you off in front of a decently sized house, opening the gate to let yourself in and closing it behind you.

Yelling, the shatter of a bottle, a groan of frustration with a door being slammed, he could hear it from where he stood outside the gate to your home.

An abusive father maybe? Perhaps a shit boyfriend that you’re playing girlfriend/mother to?

You don’t tell Dabi anything what goes on behind the doors of your home. The only thing you tell him is how you want to be fucked when he decides to present himself to you on his own time.

He finds out eventually on his own and he has half a mind to take matters into his own hands. No one hurts you unless it’s by his own hand, and only when you ask in that cute pitched voice he likes when you’re about to come undone. Your sanity is just barely hanging off the edge of a cliff when Dabi had arrived to your home in the middle of the night just to check up on you. You stand on the other side of the gate just as he steps to the front. Blood on your cheek, bruises around your neck, hands dirty with dried blood, you’re unnervingly calm.

“I did something…” you tell Dabi, the paramour that you easily just accepted into your life since that first dirty fuck in that alley.

“Let me in doll.”

The place you once called home catches fire and you’re reported as missing.

Dabi takes you to the League’s headquarters and they quietly accept you.

The League doesn’t pay much attention to you unless Dabi allows you to sit with them, and that’s only if he’s with you. Most of the time you’re secluded away from them and the main interactions you get are primarily with Dabi. You’re a mysterious entity to them that had one day just arrived in tow with Dabi, blood streaked on your face, dirty hands, and bruise marks around your neck. They didn’t suspect it to be his doing, not with the tender way he touched your cheek, rather careful like he’d break you, and sent you up to his room. There was clearly a story to your appearance but whatever happened, it remained between you and Dabi.

Some are curious while the others believe it’s best that they not know; either way, your mouth is kept shut about the day you arrived in the League’s headquarters.

It seems that they don’t mind but you can only guess that Dabi may have something to do with them allowing your presence.

The only friendly ones are Twice and Toga, probably the most rambunctious of the entire group. Twice’s conflicting personalities provide an entertainment you’d never seen before and Toga cozies up to you, calling you big sister and sometimes braiding your hair. She asks what your blood is like but you refrain from answering her question. When you’re allowed to interact with the League, Twice and Toga make you feel quite comfortable until Dabi stows you away again.

The rest of them are polite, save for the strange leader who seems wary of your presence.

You watch the news report of the fire of your old home and your missing person’s report from the television provided in Dabi’s room. Bad memories of that night haunt you sometimes and you touch your neck, your body remembering for you how rough hands tried to choke you that night but you want to forget. That life is gone, it’s behind you now and you don’t ever have to worry about it again except your stupid mind won’t stop replaying that night for you. Dabi’s not nearby, he’s not available to give you comfort, sent out by the leader to do who knows what for their organization.

There’s a bottle of dark liquor that Dabi didn’t bother to take back down to the bar from the day before.

You reach for it and hope the amber liquid will numb you.

When Dabi returns, he finds you kneeling in front of the toilet with a glass of water nearby your feet. You’re groaning as you reach for the glass of water to help gargle some of the rancid taste off your tongue, your body purging the foul alcohol you consumed with no food in your stomach to cushion the effects of whatever you drank. Whiskey or cognac or bourbon, you don’t know what it was but it hit you good and hard until it was harsh on your tongue and then your body was punishing you for consuming too much.

You lift your head up and see Dabi standing at the entrance of the restroom. That same broken expression from when he first laid eyes on you, from the many times he’d watch you from a distance, and when you’d just stare forward when you’re lost in your own thoughts. You wear it so well, you really are like a melancholy piece of art to him. You’re his pretty, broken little doll and he’ll do as he pleases with you, the best part being how willing and compliant you are.

To be honest, Dabi would like if you at least had a little fight in you sometimes. He’d get such a thrill in fucking you into submission and breaking your will, but you are who you are and he won’t be ungrateful as to what he’s getting from you now. Maybe one day a fire will light within you and you’ll dare yourself to defy him, but in the meantime Dabi is more than happy to have you so obedient to him.

“Stand up doll, back to the room.”

You take the glass of water with you and go back to the room you share with him, the door closing quietly to give you privacy.

“I want to see it Dabi, show me.” you tell him rather curtly as you sit on the edge of the bed, an edge to your voice. You’re still a little drunk so you’re not really being mindful of how you’re speaking to him, alcohol still coursing through your veins and body still trying to metabolize however amount of liquor that your body absorbed into your bloodstream.

“Use your nice words doll.” Dabi admonishes you but there’s not much bite to his words.

You sigh before asking in the way that he wants you to, “Please can I see it Dabi?”

He reaches his left hand forward and creates a small blue flame in the center of his palm. The sight of it calms you down and the anxiety of that night fades in just a few seconds. It’s not an arm around your shoulder or curling into a warm body that eases your nerves; it’s the hot blue flames that burned your old life to the ground. The hands that tried to choke the life out of you are gone, the knife you used to free yourself from your tormentor burnt to ashes, and the blood on your face and hands washed down the drain, it’s all gone but you’re haunted still.

Dabi understands, it can be difficult to find catharsis and he can’t say what method will be best for you to find relief.

He has his planned out long before he met you, he’s just waiting for the right pieces to fall into place. Whether or not you’ll be around for that time, he’s not sure himself.

The flames dissipate and you’re calm now, your head still swimming a little but you’re sober enough now. You delicately hold his left hand in your own smaller ones, the tips of your fingers carefully moving from the harsh contrast of his untouched flesh to the gnarled skin being held together by the surgical staples. It’s so ugly, so ghastly and all over his body, yet you’re not put off by it at all.

You’re not afraid to look Dabi in the eye as he pulls your clothes off your body and roughly pushes you onto the surface of the bed. Your head aches slightly but not enough to complain about it. Your breath hitches in your throat as his mouth closes over your pussy, licking you sloppily and he pulls back to spit onto your clit. He smears his spit all over and chuckles as the tips of his fingers tease over your opening, your body tensing and reacting so beautifully to his touch. When he curls his fingers inside you after pushing them inside, you struggle to hold in your sounds, you don’t want the others to hear.

It’s not like he cares that you’re trying to stifle yourself, you always end up making noise anyway.

“F-Fuck… y-you’re gonna make me cum!” you whine up to the ceiling.

“Where you wanna cum then?” Dabi asks you, his fingers still working intensely but his eyes looking bored at you. The bulge in his pants gives away that he does indeed the position you’re in now, he just likes being the only one composed as you lose yourself. “Tell me.”

His cock, you want to cum on his cock.

Last time he had you sit on his face, licking and eating you out until you were too sensitive and sobbing for him to just let you rest.

So he lies back and has you on top, he’s tired from being out today and is going to make you do the work. Your head lolls back as you sit on his dick, appreciating the fullness for a few seconds before you brace your hands nearby his head, widen your legs for your comfort and begin to fuck him. Dabi’s hands touch the back of your thighs, huffing quietly as he watches you from below, you’re surprisingly enthusiastic when not too long ago you were puking your guts out.

And now here you were, trying to get your guts rearranged by him.

“Come on, this cock is yours… fuck me like you want it. You want it don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes I want it!” you sob out, pushing back onto Dabi’s cock and just desperately trying to chase the ghosts away of your trauma by losing yourself in this carnal moment.

I want to forget, make me forget.

Harder and harder you chase after your high, the only solace you get since your old life burned to the ground, no trace of evidence of bottles of alcohol and walls with punched in holes or even the creaky floorboards you hyper focused on when certain footsteps walked the hallway. All gone, it was gone, and yet it lives on still in your mind and you don’t know what it will take to move on.

You choke up both from the memories and when Dabi begins to thrust up into you.

He’s your savior, he wasn’t necessarily an angel by any means nor the nicest to you, but he saved you and you were entirely grateful to him. So you have to do a good job and please him, you owe it to Dabi to make sure he gets off. You don’t mind that he uses you like this, it’s what he approached you for in the first place when you walked alone in that dark night after leaving a bar. He looked like trouble when you first saw him but you didn’t care, your life was an almost constant stream of chaos and stress, what more could this one man bring to you?

When you’re on round the clock torture, how much more can you step it up?

Dabi brought pain to you, slapping you in sensitive areas as his cock rearranged your guts, but at least it was a wanted pain that had you clenching and gushing around him.

You gasp as Dabi’s cock slips out of you, whining at the emptiness.

“Put it back inside, fix it yourself.”

Fix it yourself.

Fatal words that you spoke that pushed everything over the edge.

‘F-Fix it yourself…! I won’t do it!’

‘What the fuck did you just say to me?’

A hand at your throat, the knife on the chopping board clattering to the floor as you tried to back up, a haphazard slash when you were able to just barely grasp it, blood dripped onto your face before you desperately pushed off the heavy body on top of you. Anxiety, relief, regret, fear, it all coursed through your body in that moment and when you heard a groan, you plunged that same knife in the body to assure that they wouldn’t get back up.

If you had let them live, you were sure that they would make sure you didn’t.

And you sat in your kitchen, knees hugged to your chest, enough time had passed for the blood on your hands to dry and you thought, ‘I need to turn myself over.’

To your surprise Dabi was at your gate when you walked out and instead you numbly asked him for help.

Fix it yourself.

It’s like a shock of cold water and you hop off of him, curling into a ball on the other side of the bed and you’re wracked with sobs.

It’s just not that easy to forget.

Dabi’s surprised how quick you got off him but he understands quickly that he must have triggered something within you. He’s not good at comforting, is unsure what to say as you press your face into a pillow to muffle your crying. He just fixes his cock back into his pants and stares at you, unmoving. He eventually lays down beside you and just rests his hand on your head, still quiet but he figures it’s a good sign that you take his hand and hold it.

Broken, you look so pretty like this, you wore it so naturally unlike others that made them look ugly.

It’s what attracted him to you in the first place.

His pretty broken doll.

The occupants on either side of Dabi’s room can hear it, idly wondering what had happened. First they could hear your wanton little moans and then the next you’re sobbing, not the pleasurable kind but the heartbroken kind. Things must be okay because it quiets down eventually, though not a word spoken between the two of you as far as they could hear. Whatever happened, it’s between the two of you.

Despite the society you lived in, the reverence of heroes and their system of ranking, no one had ever rescued you from your circumstances. It wasn’t a shining hero, it was Dabi that came into your life, you won’t talk about it, he doesn’t want to know.

But he fixed it for you.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi #bnha x reader #bnha #tw abuse #tw assault #tw ptsd #tw murder

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ray-ray-writings · 3 years

Note

Hey Ray! Could you write some soft Schlatt stuff? Soft or angsty really both are good!!! There’s just not enough schlatt content out there for me to spam my friend with. (I’d say go for soft things but my friend is an angst queen) thank you!!!!!

-🌻

I love Schaltt so much and am kind of sad that I don’t get the opportunity to write for him more lol. And how about a compromise? How about something angsty with a happy ending??? Did not mean for this to be as long as it is but it happens lol. Hope everyone has a great night, this is the last drabble for the night! More to come tomorrow!!

TW: Schlatt throws a glass bottle at you and a few curse words

So we’re going to say that you and Schlatt are engaged okay? So you and Schlatt have been together for a really long time server hopping. You kind of let Schlatt pick the places you go because you never really cared as long as you were with Schlatt you were happy. So when you moved to the DreamSMP you were honestly just kind of vibing. You quickly met Quackity and he very quickly became your best friend. You almost had a stroke when Schlatt announced he was running for president. (Joke intended lol). But Schlatt was a failed businessman who never showed any interest in politics so when he told you he was running for president of L’Manberg, you were super shocked. But nonetheless you helped him campaign and supported him 100%. And when Quackity told you that he was going to give all of the votes that Swag2020 got to Schlatt you actually began believing that he could win this thing. And to your absolute surprise, he did just that. He won. JSchlatt won. Your failed businessman of a fiancé actually won the presidential election of L’Manberg. You didn’t necessarily agree with his first decree, but you being the loving and supporting person you are, you stood behind your lover 100%, even when Wilbur stared at you with pleading eyes to do something. You forced yourself to look away and turn your attention to your fiance who was now celebrating with Quackity… Everything was good. Everything was happy….

But after the election, things started to get… bumpy. The presidency began to take a toll on Schlatt and instead of turning to you with his problems, he turned to the bottom of a liquor bottle. It really hurt. It hurt that he felt he couldn’t lean on you and come to you for support on these things. He would come home really late and leave really early so you didn’t see him at home. So you tried really hard to be there for him. You would swing by his office and try to get him to talk to you, but he would only shoe you out, or have Tubbo escort you out, claiming he had a lot of work to do. You’d try to convince him to go on walks or dates with you, but he would again just brush you off and tell you to go away. Finally you’ve had enough and so one night you stay up. You don’t fall asleep when you usually would and you wait for Schlatt to come home. He comes home at like 1:30 am, stumbling in through the door, barely able to stand on his feet with an almost empty glass whiskey bottle in his hand. “Welcome home,” You greet coldly, standing up from the couch with your arms crossed over your chest. Schlatt’s head snaps to you in surprise and he rolls his eyes before he takes a swig from his bottle, “What are you doing here?” He grumbles, wiping his lips after he drinks. You can’t help but let out a scoff and move around the room toward the wall farthest away from him. “Really? You come home drunk off you ass, barely able to stand up, and the first thing out of your mouth is ‘What are you doing here?’ Unbelievable” you spit out, rolling your eyes and leaning up against the wall. Schlatt grumbles something under his breath, slams the door shut and glares at you, “Hi!” he cheers in the fakest peppiest voice you’ve ever heard, “How was your day? Is that what you wanted to hear?” “Yes actually. I would have loved to hear my fiance ask me how my day was! But no, instead I get a bitter fiance who only cares about himself greeting me” you seethe, extremely pissed off at how he’s acting. Schlatt lets out another scoff, “Oh really? Only thinking of myself? You’re the one who wanted me to ask you how your day was, seems pretty selfish to me” he slurs, tipping the bottle back and taking another drink. You cannot believe the words you’re hearing. He really thinks you’re selfish for wanting him to ask you how your day was. “It’s selfish of me to want to talk to my fiance? It’s selfish to want him to look at me for more than three seconds? To talk about our days like we used to? To fall asleep in the same bed again and wake up just the same? That’s selfish?” “Yes! It is!” He blurts out, “I’m the president now and this country needs me and-” “Your the president but it doesn’t mean that you have to ignore me!” You finally shout, sick and tired of him not listening to you. But the raise of your tone sparked fire in Schlatt’s eyes and his voice booms right back, “I never wanted to be president, but you made me! This is all your fault! Being president does mean that I have to ignore you because I have to do the things that come with this goddamn job I didn’t even want!” “If you didn’t want to be president why did you even run?!?” You scream back at him. “Because you made me! I hate you!” He screams before hurtling the now empty bottle at you. It’s like slow motion. You watch the bottle fly from his hand and slowly fly in the air toward your face. You can hear yourself scream in terror as you're able to just barely duck in time for the bottle to shoot over your head and smash against the wall, thousands of glass shards falling to the ground.

It’s silent. As you stand back up, tears are filling your eyes, but you’re able to see the horrified expression on Schlatt’s face. It’s obvious his actions have sobered him up and he now has a clear mind. “Y/N” he chokes out the whisper of your name, such a stark contrast from the volume level just a moment earlier. “Get out” you whisper back, a single tear falling down your cheek. “Y/N” he tries again, taking a single step forward, but you flinch back, your slipper stepping on the broken glass behind you, “Get out” you repeat a little louder. When he makes no move, you begin screaming again, “GET OUT! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!” You scream as you sob. Again, Schlatt remains frozen in place, the whiplash of him being so drunk he can barely walk to him being sober due to him hurling a bottle at his lover has his head hurting and unable to move. When he doesn’t move, you do. “Fine, I’ll get out” You then quickly walk past him toward the front door. Schlatt catches your wrist, “Y/N, wait please” he begs, tears starting to form in his eyes. You rip your wrist from his hand, “Don’t fucking touch me Schlatt” you spit hatefully at him, “I’ve done nothing but wait for you for these past few months and now I’ve finished waiting. You’ve missed your chance” and then you’re gone.

You run, and I mean run, to the nearest house, which just so happens to be Quackity’s. To your surprise, the light is still on. Before you can even knock, the door swings open and Quackity has pulled you into a warm hug. “I heard” he simply whispers in your ear. And it occurs to you that the two of you were in fact screaming at the top of your lungs at each other. “I’m sorry” you whimper in his shoulder, truly feeling bad for waking him and probably a few others. “Shhhh. It’s okay. I’ve got you now, let’s get you inside”. Quackity takes you in for the night, offering you a cup of your favorite hot liquid before tucking you in his own bed. When he tries to leave, you grab his wrist, “Stay… Please” you beg. Quackity hesitates for a moment before climbing in bed beside you. You snuggle yourself into him and put his arms around you so he was holding you. It felt really nice to fall asleep in someone’s arms again, especially your best friend’s arms.

The night goes a lot rougher for Schlatt. He’s the most sober he’s been since he won the election. He has a raging headache and his heart aches, but he knows he deserves it. Schlatt stands there staring at the door for a long time. “Any minute now,” he thinks to himself, “any minute they’ll walk through the door and hug me and tell me they forgive me” but he knows that he’s just kidding himself. When the clock hits 3am he finally looks away from the door. Schlatt lets his eyes roam the living room and they freeze on the glass pile where you stood just a while ago. His heart thumps heavily in his chest and he has to swallow harshly to get the lump out of his throat. He did that. He threw that. Not only did he throw that, he threw that at you. His love. The best thing that had ever happened in his life. He had screamed that he hated you. Quickly, Schlatt rushes forward, drops to his knees and stupidly begins picking up pieces of the shattered glass. He thinks that if he can clean it up, if he can put it back together again, you’ll come back. You’ll come back to him and forgive him and everything will be alright. A sharp pain shoots through his hand causing him to drop all of the glass he’s collected. Deep maroon liquid pours from his finger causing Schlatt to let out soft curses. He quickly uses his other hand and wraps it around the bleeding finger, rises and walks to the bathroom. He holds the bleeding finger under running water while he struggles to pull a band aid out of the cabinet. “God. Y/N would be laughing at me so hard right now. Then they would just float in here and take care of me themselves…” he thinks out loud, “Fuck!” He curses harshly as he thinks about how bad he’s fucked up with you. He manages to get himself bandaged up before he takes a few painkillers, even though he really knows he deserves to hurt. He stumbles his way into the bedroom and flings himself down on your side of the bed, he really just wants to be comforted by you, even though he’s been so shitty. But Schlatt quickly becomes confused when it’s rather cold and does not smell like you at all. He lets out a sigh and rolls over onto his normal side of the bed and is immediately overwhelmed with the powerful scent of you on his side of the bed. The tears return to his eyes as he realizes that you spend every night on his side of the bed in hopes of getting even just a little piece of him. He sobs himself to sleep, face buried in his pillow that smells just like you.

You wake that morning very confused because you wake up in someone’s arms. As you peel your eyes open, you take in messy black hair and the peaceful face of your sleeping best friend and the events of last night wash over you in one big memory wave. Hurt and sadness fall over your feelings again because you think you lost your fiance last night. You don’t get much time to ponder over it because Quackity’s eyes peel open and connect with yours. “You were watching me sleep. You fucking creep” He teases before letting out a huge yawn, moving his arm off of you and stretching. “I was not watching you sleep. I was simply staring at you while I was lost in my own thoughts you dork” you tease right back, also throwing your arm up to stretch. Quackity laughs and rolls his eyes, “Whatever creep” You roll your eyes at him in return, “Whatever’s right dork.” You two lay there for a moment before breaking out in giggles and pushing each other’s shoulder. It felt nice to laugh with someone while laying around in bed again. It felt nice to be happy. After a moment, you two climb out of bed. Quackity gives you some clothes of his to change into so you didn’t have to walk around in your pajamas. You change in the bathroom and do what you need to do before you Quackity in the kitchen for breakfast. You have a nice breakfast together, but as you eat there’s a knock on the door. Quackity gets up and opens it, “Tubbo! What can I do for you?” “Have you seen Y/N? Schlatt wants to see them so he sent me to find them. So have you seen them?” You can hear the young boy ask from the front door. You hear Quackity hesitate at the door, not sure if he should tell Tubbo where you are. So you stand up and walk into view. “Hello Tubbo” you greet the small boy kindly. His eyes light up at you, “Hello Y/N! Schlatt is looking for you! He’s in his office at the office! Shall I escort you to him?” He asks. It’s obvious he has no idea what’s going on. You give a little head shake and take a deep breath before you answer, “No it’s okay. Tell him that I’m having breakfast with my best friend and that I’ll… I’ll meet him afterwards. But also tell him that if he shows up here, I won’t talk to him ever again” Tubbo’s eyes widen slightly, but he gives you a small nod and a smile, “Okay. I’ll let him know Y/N” Tubbo then turns on his heel and runs off toward the office. Quackity shuts the door and turns to you with a concerned look on his face as he rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Are you sure you want to do that?” “No” you admit, “But I really should. It’s the adult thing to do” Quackity lets out a small laugh, “Then you’re more adult than I’ll ever be… Come on, let’s go finish breakfast”

The two of you have a lovely breakfast together, but the whole time you’re thinking about what it is you’re going to say to Schlatt once you are in his office. Quackity gives you a tight hug before you leave. You metally prepare yourself on the short walk over to the office building. What you’re going to say, how you’re going to react, you know typical mental argument planning things. You take a deep breath once you’re in front of the door before you raise your fist and knock. “Come in” his deep voice calls from the other side of the door. You slowly open the door, step inside, and close the door behind you before you look up and meet Schlatt’s eyes. You feel your breath catch in your throat. He looks terrible. His eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot, his hair is a mess, the bags under his eyes were extremely dark… It was obvious he had gotten very little sleep last night. ‘Good’ a voice whispers in the back of your mind. Schlatt scrambles to stand when you enter. You two stare at each other for a moment before Schlatt clears his throat and sticks out his arms. “Please. Have a seat… If you want” he stutters out. You cautiously move to one of the chairs and slowly lower yourself into the chair behind you and he quickly follows suit. There’s a little more staring before Schlatt speaks again, “So… Um. How was your breakfast?” he’s nervous, very nervous. “It was good… I know you didn’t ask me here to talk about breakfast Schlatt so let’s just get right to it shall we?” you cut straight through wanting to get this over with. Schlatt flinches slightly at the sharp tone but nods, “I’m so sorry for last night… No for the last few months. I have been an extremely shitty fiance and that hasn’t been fair to you. My behavior, especially these last few months, and especially last night was unacceptable. I’m so sorry and I really hope you’ll forgive me” You wait just a moment to make sure he was finished before you speak. And boy do you speak, “You’re right. You’ve been really shitty and it hasn’t been fair to me… But if you think a single apology is going to fix all of it. You’re dead wrong Schlatt. Dead wrong… These past few months have been hell for me. I’ve tried so hard to be supportive to try and have your back but you just kept pushing me away. I went to bed alone, I woke up alone, I had to take care of myself all while I was also trying to take care of you…. Schlatt last night you yelled at me, you screamed at me. You blamed me for the riff in our relationship. Blamed me for you having a job you claim you never wanted. I never forced you to run for president. I never forced Quackity to give you his votes. I never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do. I simply stood behind you and supported you…. Last night you threw a glass bottle at my head. Had I not ducked it would have hit me straight in the face. I would have been severely hurt and it would have been your fault. But the thing that hurts the most, the thing that tears me up inside. Schlatt. You told me you hated me. You said you hate me.”

Schlatt is in tears by the time you’ve finished and you’re nearly there too. “I know. I know. I’m so sorry baby. So sorry. I know I’ve been so bad. So horrible. I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault, it was never your fault. It’s mine and I know that. I take complete and utter responsibility. When I ran it was a joke, it was for a joke. I never expected to win, but you supported me anyway. You’ve always supported me and I know I don’t deserve you. I really don’t. Last night, when we were talking, well yelling, I was so drunk out of my mind. I thought you were me. I thought you were me and I was talking to a version of myself, a hallucination. That’s why I screamed at you. That’s why I told you it’s your fault. That I threw the bottle, and why I said I hated you. But when I heard you scream, everything became clear. I finally saw it was you and I knew I had fucked up. I know it’s no excuse, but it’s my explanation. I understand if you never want to see me again. I wouldn’t want to see me again.” Schlatt explains before breaking down into sobs. It all makes sense, the way he acted last night. Why he did and said those horrible things to you. You could tell he wasn’t lying. You know you still have a lot to talk about and work through, but for now, you quickly rise from your chair, move around the desk, before sitting yourself down in his lap and burying your face in his neck, pulling yourself close to him. His arms immediately shoot out and wrap around you and tug you to him so tightly, as if he’s scared if he let’s go, he’ll lose you. You cry in each other’s arms for a few moments, just letting out all of your emotions. The missing of one another, the sadness, and longing. You manage to get yourself under control first, pulling back to look him in the eyes “We still have a lot to talk about and you still have a lot of making up to do, but I’m going to forgive you. Not right now, but I will eventually. We’re going to make this work lover.” You promise your fiance, leaning forward and pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I swear to you I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You’re my everything my love and I swear that I’ll make this right” he whispers before leaning forward and capturing your lips into a real and proper kiss. The kind you haven’t had in months. And you can’t help but absolutely melt in Schlatt’s lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You two are going to be alright. Schlatt will make sure of it.

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt drabble #schlatt #schlatt imagine #schlatt drabble #c!schlatt #ray responds #drabble #🌻 anon #anon #asks

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aclosetfan · 3 years

Note

are u still doing the ask game? can i ask for 19 or 20?

for you anon, of course! 20 is actually a really lame two-sentence note that isn't worth anyone's time, so I'll do 19!

19 is a really sad story tbh. I've always really liked the character Sedusa and it kills me that the writers never did more with her. I believe they said the reason why was because they couldn't think of many kid-friendly scenarios to put her in, which is fair lmao.

lol one of my notes for this outline is "this is my dark manifesto to [Sedusa] and it comes off like a bad CW remake," which was written way before the CW show announcement. so not to get a big ego about things, but I totally beat them to the punch. This fic is my only rated M fic (though arguably Acting Normal may also change into M just for its dark themes as well).

This story is adequately tilted "Sedusa" and it follows how a plain jane named Sara became one of Townsville's most notorious villains. The plot's below, though content warning, please don’t read if your triggered by abusive relationships, domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault/harassment, or gore. The outline won't be detailed (and tbh the actual story won't be heavily detailed either) but i believe that everyone still deserves a fair warning :)

The outline doesn't do the plot justice, but it's all I got so hopefully people just Get It.

CHARACTER NOTES:

Canonically, I believe the Sedusa's character was supposed to represent envy and lust. So, one of the main themes I try to stick with when writing her character is the definition of envy, which is a "feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck."

PLOT:

Sara is a sweet and mousy little girl, who tries her best to stay invisible. She's rather plain-looking except for her really beautiful long dark hair. Originally, she's not from Townsville, but somewhere in the "country" where a person could be considered a bumpkin. Sara's a smart young girl, but her intelligence is rather unrefined. She spends most of her time obsessing over greek and Egyptian mythology.

She's from a rather big family, but she's the baby. Her father is abusive. Her mother is neglectful and Sara resents her mother for just standing by while abuse is occurring. To cope, Sara dreams of running away and falls deeper into her mythology obsession--specifically Medusa. Sara feels like Medusa would understand her.

At 16, she runs away to Townsville where she tries to be a hairdresser. With no money, she ends up in a really seedy part of town and the beauty parlor she works for ends up being a front for more illicit activities. She still does hair, but really makes her money as a call-girl of sorts. Just one of those girls who gives handjobs in the back to sad old men. It's easy money (I'm pro-sex work lol so I don't make this a big deal, but she's still a minor and it's wrong), but she's disgusted with herself (and men). At this time, she isn't very good at manipulating men--it's more like they have power over her and it reminds her of her father, only making her angrier and angrier.

It is also of note that while she's working at the Parlor, she encounters Sarah Bellum via tv (Ms. Bellum is just an intern with the Mayor at this point). She's instantly fascinated by this other Sarah and forms an odd (slightly toxic) parasocial relationship with her. Sara thinks it's amazing that Sarah went to school and is just so glamourous. Ms. Bellum is really everything Sara wants to be.

*time skip*

Sara falls in love with some jackass. Still slightly obsessed with Sarah Bellum. Still working at the parlor. Sara feels stagnant and worthless. Her jackass boyfriend and a few of his shitty friends end up attacking Sara and cutting off her hair (which was her prized possession). She gets away, but not totally unscathed.

In the process of running away, she bumps into a mysterious man who promises He can fix whatever is troubling her. The mysterious man manipulates an affirmative answer out of Sara and he "fixes" her problem. The man is HIM and he transforms her into the woman we all know as Sedusa (who goes by Ima when disguised).

“And what is it that you want?” HIM tsked, almost sounding bored.

She looked back at the mirror, at her broken reflection and lipstick smeared down her face. With a sore, croaking voice she sneered, “I want my fu-fucking hair back.”

Behind her, the entity smiled, Its facing splitting wide into two, “Oh, now that I can do.”

She watched through the shattered glass how It—HIM—snapped its odd monstrous claw. HIM’s smile grew more grotesque, as a thin bead of sweat began to break out on her forehead.

“This might hurt a little bit,” the entity giggled as she began to hyperventilate, “but what is that you little humans say?" HIM paused, watching her with a tilt of Its head as pain shot through her temples, "Oh, that’s right—”

She gasped and then screamed, dropping to her knees as she clutched at her head. Something wiggled underneath her scalp, pushing harder and harder to break against the resistance of her skin. It felt as if something was pressing against her brain, trying to carve away at her skull.

“—beauty is pain.” HIM growled, appearing next to her so Its voice—now low and baritone—was right in her ear, and It grasped her by the chin forcing her to watch the mirror as snake-like tendrils sprouted from her skull. She cried out at the sight and her body trembled with the pain.

One black, oily, twisted snake after another shot out of a bloody crater on her head. She tried her best through the pain to shake HIM off—to look away—but It held her still with a twisted laugh. She thrashed and howled in agony as the blood poured down her face in rivets. HIM didn't let go. Instead, HIM forced her still, grabbing her by the chin so she'd peer directly into the broken mirror.

Sara paled right before her very eyes, from a peachy skin tone to a white paste. She tried to blink away the tears that wouldn’t stop welling in her eyes—the green of them becoming more acidic with every passing second.

“The fun should be ending soon.” HIM giggled again, Its voice back to a soprano, but she was too forgone to hear him, as her eyes began to lull into the back of her head.

Eventually, when the transformation is complete, we see this:

Sara had stayed collapsed on her knees after HIM vanished into thin air. She stared with wide eyes as blood, sweat, and tears dripped onto and rolled off her thighs. She hardly paid attention to her surrounding, all she could do was listen. She listened to her hair. She listened to the constant moving, living, mass that slithered around her head, neck, and shoulders. The coils almost seemed to be cooing at her, comforting her through her pain, offering sweet apologies for what they had done. They promised her nothing bad would ever happen again. They were a dangerous shield forged from her own body to protect her.

Her body. A vessel for this odd new life.

“Heh.” A deranged giggle escaped her mouth, “Heh. Heh ha—hahaha!” She laughed until her throat burned and tightened, her tears finally drying.

It was instantaneous. It was powerful. Sara had never known love before, but she loved them. She loved every single one of them.

And here she had thought she'd never be a mother.

Sara becomes Sedusa--taking inspiration from Medusa, her childhood fascination. She wonders if HIM knew, but she wouldn't bother asking. She feels sexy, powerful, and unstoppable. Her hair has instilled a new confidence in her and she's finally able to stand up for herself. Soon, she realizes that she's an "exotic" beauty and has men eating out of her hand. She isn't someone who kills, but if she gets bored (or feels threaten) she will.

Things are going good until the PowerPuff Girls are finally created. When she sees them for the first time, she pities them, especially when they're run out of town. She relates to them for not being loved little girls, but is completely shocked when she finds out they've won the town over. This shock turns into resentment and she decides she'll get even with the girls

Then, cue canon. Sedusa seduces the Professor. We see what happens in that episode plus a little more. Sedusa takes out a lot of her repressed childhood trauma on the girls and is plain awful to them. By the time her stint with the Professor is over, she hates them all.

Then, there's the episode with Bellum. Bellum becomes the Athena to Sedusa's medusa. Bellum is still this elevated person in Sedusa's mind, and it only makes sense to Sedusa that she should become Bellum. To become Bellum, Sedusa seduces Bellum and they end up having a brief relationship. (Sedusa pretends to be an intern at City Hall and the two ladies bond over having the same first name). Eventually, Sedusa reveals her plot and the canon events happen. (Bellum is heartbroken over Sedusa).

I'd like to emphasize that Sedusa's relationship with Bellum almost turns her "good," but her hair coils (HIM's curse) prevents her from taking those steps. Her coils prevent close loving relationships--since they're supposed to be shield that keeps people out, preventing any chance that Sedusa's heart may be broken again. [coils represent her inability to heal from the past]

Then we run through a quick montage of her other appearances.

[throughout all of this, I would write how her hair coils are making her more and more insane]

*time skip to after the events of the og show*

This is where my plot can go anywhere. I think Sedusa becomes sloppy, maybe kills a politican. She's spirialing out of control and mad that she can't find any real happiness in her life. I think it'd be interesting to show her interacting with the rrb, not necessarily to show their relationship, but to show how Sedusa would be infuriated that HIM had sons, especially sons who hurt girls for fun ( i.e. the ppg) (a real 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' moment for her). She's also infuriated at HIM for turning her into a monster, so being mad about his "sons" is just an excuse to get even with the entity.

To hurt HIM, she decides to hurt the boys, but the girls interfere. They won't let innocent live be taken, no matter the person's moral alignment. This infuriates Sedusa even more than HIM ever could. Because again, despite all the shitty things that have happened to the Girls, they are still good as opposed to Sedusa, who ended up bad. She doesn't understand why she had to end up the way she did.

However, the girls aren't the people who finally "defeat" Sedusa. Instead, that honor is left to Ms. Bellum (Sedusa's "Athena"), who Sedusa still very much loves in her own sick twisted way. Paralleling the Sedusa/Bellum episode in the og show, the girls (while protecting the boys) are almost defeated by Sedusa until Bellum intervenes. It's revealed that Bellum had a shitty childhood too (again enforcing the parallels/differences between the two women) and believes that it's not too late for Sedusa to change her ways (it’s a real “I’m rotten work” “no it isn’t. Not if it’s you” moment) In a moment of mental clarity, where the coils (and by extension HIM) cannot affect her judgement, Sedusa releases the boys and the girls. Sedusa doesn't stay though, like Bellum pleads, she gets scared and runs away. (but does tell Bellum she’d always love her, whatever that’s good for)

[also I decide bellum to defeat sedusa to show that the girls are still to young and that adults should be the ones dealing with other adults] [and bellum has a good track record of doing just that]

Idk if she'd be gone forever, but it's implied that she hasn't been seen in Townsville for a long time. What she gets up to is left ambiguous. She can't be good because of her hair coils, but she doesn't want to be bad. idk I don't want it to have a sad ending, but I don't think it can really be happy.

-----

I try hard to play with the concept of beauty, womanhood, purity, love and how negative/positive responses to trauma affect these concepts. Idk it's really rough and needs to be thought out more, especially the end, but I think Sedusa deserves her own story.

#this isn't edited sorry I'm tired #outline ask game #my outlines #sedusa #this story is near and dear to me #but i don't think i have the skills to write it yet #my writings #the boys are literally not important btws they’re knocked out the whole time or something idk #this story ain’t about them

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tiaragqueen · 4 years

Text

Aegis

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Adult! Shouto Todoroki x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,2k+

✂ Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, possessiveness, mention of kidnapping

[Edited]

***

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's D.O.A. It's like you're always stuck in second gear. When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year, but I'll be there for you.” - I’ll Be There For You [The Rembrandts]

It was just a joke, honestly.

During the peaceful silence with Shōto, who liked to visit your apartment from time to time, you’d playfully wished someone would just ‘kidnap you already’. You didn’t really think about the implication of your desire since you tended to speak nonsense when stressed out, anyway. All you wished for was a break from your growing paperwork, someone to pamper you and ease the pressure like a lover would. You might not necessarily yearn for a relationship, but the idea of someone being utterly devoted to you was nice.

And that was what Shōto thought, too. But his way of showing it was… startling, to say the least.

The first thing you saw after you opened your eyes was a plain white ceiling with a pendant light, its bulb dark. Next, you felt the fluffiness pressed against your head. A pillow, you concluded as you groped the said thing, but it was strangely wider than your old one, and comfier too. Then, you noticed how the room had more space and there was a LED TV in front of the queen size bed you were occupying. All of it just screamed ‘wealth’ throughout, and you didn’t know whether you should scream for help or relish the luxury. Perhaps, you could even pretend you owned every belonging despite your poor finance. A little imagination never hurt anyone, no?

A door to your left suddenly opened, snapping you back to reality. Shōto sauntered inside wearing nothing but a towel to cover his lower part, bicolored hair tousled. Your face blanched as you gawked at him, the realization that you’d been sleeping on his room – on his freaking bed – finally settled in. Although you knew that you were just jumping to conclusions, who else was richer anyway? Who else was born from a famous and wealthy family?

“S-Shōto, what–? What am I doing here? Why am I here?! Did I – oh God!” You screeched and pulled your hair in frustration. “I didn’t sleep with you, did I?! Tell me we didn’t. Please!”

He stopped searching for his clothes and turned to face you, wondering the reason why you seemed alarmed around him. Why did it matter if you both slept together? Didn’t you say you loved him? “Technically, yes–”

“What?!”

“But we didn’t have sex.” he continued before you could break down, and the effect of that sentence was powerful enough to elicit an audible sigh of relief from you. Slumping on the white mattress, you clutched your chest to regulate the violent heartbeats.

Cocking his head, Shōto drawled. “We can try if you want.”

“No!” you shouted quickly, hiding your blooming visage with both hands. For as long as you could remember, Shōto never once referred sex, not even a joke. He always looked impassive whenever those raunchy scenes appeared on the TV, or make out. Then again, it was his default face, anyway. Nevertheless, you liked and respected his cute obliviousness and ability to handle erotic things without constantly insinuating them like other males.

However, you tended to forget that he was an adult now, not the awkward teenager you’d first met in high school.

“Why not? We’re lovers, after all.”

You slowly raised your head and blinked dumbly. “What…?”

“Isn’t that why you prayed for someone to kidnap you? So they could take care of you?” he inquired innocently. “I admit, I’m still rather dense to people’s feelings, but your wish has opened my eyes to see beyond the obvious. I felt guilty for being ignorant of your sufferings, so I made it up by moving you to my house. Or, should I say, our house.”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but no words managed to leave. On one hand, you were glad that you didn’t have to live in your horrible apartment anymore. But, on the other hand, this was too sudden. Living with your best friend? Wait, no, lover. Did he assume that title after you made your silly wish? But it was just a joke, and besides, you never mentioned dating anyway.

“If something isn’t up to your liking, tell me and we can change it immediately. I want you to be more comfortable here.” Shōto smiled guilelessly, much to your disbelief.

“Shōto, no…” His tender mien morphed into confusion when you shook your head. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about anything when I said that, okay? It was just… it was just bullshit on my part because I was stressed out and–”

“Exactly.” Shōto cut you off and clasped your hands, a gleam of affection flecked his bicolored eyes. “I don’t want you to become more stressed out than necessary, so I decided to remove you from such an environment. After all, as my girlfriend, you deserve only the best in life.”

His reason didn’t make sense to you, but the sincerity behind it was enough to hinder you from speaking once again.

“B-but… what about my job? I need money to live, too.” you finally whispered after a moment of doubtful silence.

Sighing, Shōto patted your crown and smiled. “There’s no need for you to worry about that anymore. I’ve already dealt with it.”

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘dealt with it’?”

“I told your boss you quit.”

Time seemed to slow as your brain processed another bombshell he dropped on you in less than an hour. Once it sunk in, it felt as if the only piece of freedom you had now after moving to his house finally slipped through your fingers and shattered like glass. It wasn’t your favorite job in the world, but the result – your hard work and payment, regardless of how small it was – brought a sense of security and gratification. You hated having to rely on someone financially, because what if they descend to poverty tomorrow?

“You… you can’t do that! My job might be shitty, but it’s everything to me, just like heroism to you!”

“If you hated your job, then why did you devote so much time to it? I thought people would rather avoid such work, or do it poorly.”

“Y-yeah, well, that’s because…” you stammered, trying to elude his piercing gaze. “That’s because for some people… love the feelings it gives. You know, like, personal satisfaction of being paid after working so hard.”

“But your salary sometimes isn’t enough to cover you daily, is it? Especially the rent that seems to rise every month.”

“I-I know that already!” you huffed, scowling. “It’s just… I’m not ready, Shōto. It’s all too sudden for me to comprehend.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” he murmured, squeezing your shoulders reassuringly. “If it’s money you’re concerned about, rest assured, I’ll bring it to you every day. I may even save some if it’ll be any consolation to you. Your boss clearly didn’t appreciate your hard work, because if he did, he would’ve promoted you or gave you rewards. But he didn’t, and you were still stuck in the same position as years ago.”

Shōto leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “Don’t worry too much, okay? Just enjoy your new life now. All I’m asking is your obedience, that’s all. If you listen to my words, then everything will be okay.”

You stared at him for a moment before sighing in defeat, acknowledging the futility of arguing with him any further. There was something about him that made his logic sounded… infallible, even if you couldn’t fathom it.

Suppressing the triumph that twitched the corner of his lips, Shōto tousled your hair and stood up.

“Now, go take a shower. There’s a place I want us to visit today.”

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todoshotoki · 4 years

Text

𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: bakugou katsuki x reader

𝙏𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙂𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: depression, self-loathing, unrequited love

𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀: i found about this song recently and i’ve never cried to a song so much before because it just awoke some past experiences ??

thanks for 100 followers :)

...

i still remember, third of december

it was a cold evening as you were heading back home from ua highschool. you had left your sweater back at home and you were hugging your arms around yourself. your teeth were chattering as you speed-walked to your bus stop.

you bundled yourself up on the bench, rubbing your hands up and down your arms in effort to create heat. you plugged in your earbuds, listening to the quiet acoustics while looking at the people passing by (all correctly equipped with warm, thick clothing).

“oi!” you jolted as you felt your left earbud being snatched out of your ear and being promptly yelled at afterward. you met the blonde’s crimson eyes next to you while slightly dazed. “don’t fucking ignore me!”

me in your sweater

“here, you were shaking like a lost dog,” he shoved a sweater in your lap and turned to look toward his phone once again. “huh?” you were about to protest but he shot you down quickly, “i have my own plus i don’t want you to think that i had some sort of favor to return after training this morning.”

you said it looked better, on me, than it did you

you gawked a little at the red and black sweater before nodding and thanking him. you slipped the material over your uniform which fit you a little on the bigger side. “don’t thank me and don’t bother returning it... it looks better on you anyway.” he grunts, getting up to go on the bus as it rolled up to the curb.

it smelled like him – like caramel. your heart did summersaults in your chest as you wondered how it would feel to be held by him or even to be his special someone. you stepped onto the bus shortly after him, peeking a bit at him as you passed by to your seat by the window.

only if you knew, how much i liked you

you seemed to adore him after he had that exchange with him. everything made sense, you deemed him a “tsundere” and began to watch his mannerisms and slowly but surely fall further into fascination. you didn’t notice yourself doing until the signs were waving in your face.

there was no way to reverse it, it was a blooming infatuation that was spreading from your chest to the smallest nooks and crannies of your very body. your hands started to become sweaty, your face flared up, your knees buckled. it was an anxiety you had never seen before.

but I watch your eyes, as he walks by, what a sight for sore eyes

“bakugo,” you had your hands behind your back and your feet rocking back and forth as an anxious tendacy, “do you want to come with me and a few friends to a movie on sunday?” he hadn’t even gone as far as to spare a glance at you, “no,”

you slightly frowned, “okay, tell me if you change your mind,” you turned back to your chair and to say you were bummed out was an understatement. that’s when you the class’s sunshine had walked into the room, “hey bakubro!” the redhead made a beeline for his desk and bakugo promptly looked up at the boy in annoyance, “what do you want, shitty hair?!”

“we still on for sunday?” kirishima places his hands on the blonde’s desk leaning in with his toothy grin. “yeah, yeah, don’t ask me again or you can forget about it!” your frown deepened. kirishima had beat you to it.

it only made sense. he was a happy virus. you pursed your lips ceasing your eavesdropping and burried your head into your desk.

brighter than a blue sky, he's got you mesmerized while i die

this wasn’t the last time you had tried to hang out with bakugo. two out of five attempts had succeeded. the lastet one was with the whole class involved. momo was holding a get together for christmas before the holidays had started.

you had decided to dress to impress. bakugo clearly has standards and you need to meet them. you went out of your way to wear eyeliner, blush, and the whole extra mile. when you had arrived, it was mainly the early birds who had arrived. uraraka, midoriya, todoroki, kirishima, and iida has been there when you had arrived.

you had received compliments from all parties. “wow, you look really nice tonight! i wish i had done something like you and everyone else, i just came in an ugly sweater and old pants.” kirishima scratched his neck sheepishly.

“kaachan, you came!” midoriya’s outburst had shifted your gaze toward the door. he was wearing essentially the same thing that kirishima was wearing. he looks your direction.

he’s looking your direction! maybe you had finally-

“you’re wearing the sweater i gave you,” his words had cut you out of your thoughts as he walked beside kirishima. “oh-! this was your’s? i-i had been wondering where i got this from...” kirishima stammered. you had defaulted to escape the scene before you became more sad than you already had become.

as the party carried on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it, “he was wearing his sweater,” you thought, pouring yourself a drink. you hadn’t noticed the blonde slipping right beside you until a few whistles and snickering were heard. “hey, what’re you guys laughing about?!” bakugo had snapped.

“look up, blasty!” ashido says which you both reluctantly do.

a mistletoe was looming over your heads. you could feel your ears turn red as you realized the whole class was looking at you.

“bakugo, we don’t have to if you don’t want-“

why would you ever kiss me? i’m not even half, as pretty

he cut your sentence off with his lips on your’s. you had almost dropped the solo cup in your hand at the sweet taste of his chapstick. the hint of caramel you smelled as you two were so close, you felt so incredibly warm and longed for the kiss to last longer.

as you parted, you tried to stutter out a sentence but only mumbling left your lips. “that’s so cute!” you could hear hagakure squealing from the audience that had accumulated.

you didn’t feel happy about it. the stupid branch had grabbed more attention than you yourself as a person.

you gave him your sweater, it’s just polyester, but you like him better

you had gone home early that night. you claimed that you were tired and hadn’t planned to stay long anyways.

you sat in your bed with silent tears dribbling down your cheeks. the sweater that you had been given by bakugo was clenched betweeen your cold fingers. it had lost it’s smell- the smell of bakugo.

wish i were heather

you had dyed your naturally black hair to blonde by the time you got back from the holidays. you had kept the same winged eyeliner to help with your looks and hopefully show some type of attention.

you waited for bakugo to come in that morning. you had came early and as the students began to trickle in. you heard some cheering. you looked up from your book to your heart shattering.

watch as he stands with, him holding your hand

they were clearly dating. kirishima has acted as a docking station for the blonde who was more shy to the attention they were getting. the two of them had no objection to the dating rumors and confirmed them even. he had his hand in his. you knew bakugo was bisexual, you had a chance...

put your arm 'round his shoulder, now i’m getting colder

you had huddled up in your blankets and stared at the photo that bakugo had just posted on his instagram.

they were at a diner together, a smug smile on his face as he looked at his giddy boyfriend who was equally as happy to be with him. the caption: “eyes on the prize”.

you felt the tears bubble up again and you wiped your snot and tears with the same sweater that he had given you.

but how could i hate him? he’s such an angel

“(l/n)!” kirishima had entered the classroom that morning. you had your head down on the desk due to your restlessness last night. you peaked up at him, squinting at the bright light that had been shining through the windows. he had a candy bar in his hand and placed it right in front of you. “you look a little down today... you can talk to me if you want to.”

you pick up the candy bar, sitting up straight. “thank you, kiri. i really appreciate it.” you smile, trying your best to fake the lift in your eyes. “no problem,” he says and sits in his respective seat.

no matter how much you wanted to scream at him and ask him why he had ruined your life, you couldn’t do so he was the sunshine of the class after all.

but then again, kinda, wish he were dead, as he walks by

“hey, (l/n), it’s been a while. do you want to go to the new ramen shop that opened near your house?” kirishima asks as you were leaving together with bakugo on the other side of him. you shook your head, “no thanks,” not even an excuse out of you before you left his sight.

you hated him so much. how could someone just look at you like that? he knew how you looked at bakugo. i mean- he didn’t necessarily know that you had feelings but shit... the blatant gaze of pure adoration should’ve been a hint.

what a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky

the whole new dorm system had made everything so much worse for you. before, you could run home and forget about it by drowning yourself in whatever distraction you sought fit but now they were constantly around you.

he’s got you mesmerized while i die

the pda (mostly initiated by kirishima) had been accepted the whole class as a normal thing so if you were to say anything, you would definitely stick out. this resulted in you locking your bedroom door and not giving anyone a chance to interact with you outside of school. you began skipping out on events like going to the beach and instead stood in front of the mirror picking at the fat that was gathered up at your stomach.

why would you ever kiss me?

you wish these feelings would just rot. you wish it would just wither away. you wanted to run away, you wanted to give up, you wanted to just tell him.

“bakugou, i love you! i’ve loved you for months!”

you would cry but instead you were practicing in the mirror. your puffy eyes and bloated face making your heart drop. who were you kidding.

i’m not even half, as pretty

“(l/n),” bakugou had knocked on your door one day. your room was a mess: clothes scattered on the ground, textbooks thrown aside, random pens and food wrappers cluttering your desk. you almost wish you could jump off the balcony and take off to never see heights alliance again.

“what is it?” you call to the door after clearing your throat, listening closely waiting for him to say “i know you like me just stop stalking me”.

“do you happen to... have that sweater i gave you a few months back?”

you gave him your sweater

after that statement, jumping out the balcony seemed 1000x more appealing.

“yeah, um- hold on,” you got up from your bed and frowned at the sweater hanging on your desk chair. it had lost bakugou’s smell weeks ago but the fact that bakugou gave it to you never failed to make you smile.

you crack open the door and hand it to him through the slit. you didn’t want him seeing your room as it was right now.

you felt the fabric leave your fingertips. “thanks,” and with that he was off.

it’s just polyester, but you like him better

you desperately try to push the tears back into your eyes, denying the fact that you were crying over someone so stupid.

“you’re not crying! it’s just fabric! it’s just polyester!” your bottom lip trembled as you try to recompose yourself. your coping mechanism was gone.

i wish i were heather

“i wish i were kirishima,” the words had met your lips subconsciously. you clamped your hand over your mouth instantly regretting it. it was no secret you had been paying attention to kirishima in the past few weeks. he was everything bakugou could ever want.

he was brave, strong, and he dared to even go save bakugou from the league. without kirishima’s outstretched hand, bakugou might be in a different situation.

you had to tell bakugou. maybe the feelings would fade.

wish i were heather

today was the day. you had texted bakugou to meet you outside of the heights alliance gates at 6:30 that evening.

you were trembling. it was so obvious. it was a confession. bakugou probably had better things to do then stay around you. you gulped as you saw the blonde tuft of hair round the corner.

wish i were heather

“so why did you ask me to meet you here? i swear if this is a waste of my time...”

you hadn’t noticed how long you had just been staring into his eyes. you averted your eyes to the ground. the bubbling sensation of your throat cramping up, caused you to clear it with a thump to your chest.

you grew angry as you tried to choke it out of your throat.

“why would you ever kiss me?” you ball your fists and pursing your lips. bakugou’s eyes dilated, not knowing what to say, “what are you talking about-“

“that night! at the christmas party! couldn’t you see? i-“ you pause to wipe a tear from your eye. you shake your head, twisting up your face in a scowl, “i’m not even half as pretty any one else so why?!”

“half as pretty as who-?”

“you’re a real dumbass, y’know? for someone who gets high grades. you’re really fucking clueless.”

“i didn’t come here to get yelled at by some extra, okay?! if you have something to say that isn’t an insult then spit out.” he pulled at his shirt incredibly uncomfortable.

“you gave him your sweater that’s why you took it back to the other day, huh?” you said. “you’re getting worked up over that? it’s just polyester.”

there was nothing but your hitching and crying after he said that. he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “i’m leaving,” he turned away and you watched him walk away.

“but you like him better, wish i were...”

#my hero academia #boku no academia #boku no hero fanfic #bnha angst #bnha #kirishima eijirou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha oneshots #bnha bakushima #mha #mha eijirou #mha fanfiction #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou

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365days365movies · 3 years

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February 27, 2021: Love Actually (Part 2)

In case you hadn’t noticed by now...this movie is a lot.

I won’t dwell, and I’ll get back into All Around, but just trust me...this is a bit too much. All I know is that they packed way too much in this film, which is also somehow too long? It’s a lot, yeah? OK, first part of the Recap is right here, let’s get into the second half before I lose my nerve.

Recap (2/2)

So, good news is, Rodrigo and Sarah start dancing at the party, then start to hook up at her place! But the sad news (not bad, just sad) is that it’s interrupted by calls from her brother, Michael (Michael Fitzgerald), a very mentally ill man who lives in an asylum. Their love affair is cut short, and Sarah visits him the next day, where he lashes out at her and claims the nurses are trying to kill him, before being subdued. YIKES. Fuckin’s whiplash.

A little more sadness, as Karen’s convinced that Harry’s fallen out of love with her, having seen how he interacted with the attractive Mia at the party. That’s going to cause some friction, I’m sure. This is folllowed by Mia’s flirtations the following afternoon, which are once again accepted by Harry with no words to the contrary. He also calls her as he’s out, and he appears to be giving into the flirtation, rather than denying them. And as he’s meeting Karen for shopping! Dammit, Harry.

At the store, he buys a necklace for Mia from jewelry salesman Rufus (Rowan Atkinson!). Rufus asks is Harry wants the necklace gift-wrapped, and he agrees. And Rufus...Rufus is the best gift-wrapper of all time. Seriously, the man is a fucking ARTIST. His attention to detail is astonishing, and I love him. Harry doesn’t, as it’s taking way to long. YOU CANNOT RUSH PERFECTION, HARRY! But, yeah, it’s taking too long, and Karen shows up. Harry abandons the necklace, and poor devoted Rufus.

One week until Christmas, as holiday shenanigans take place with everybody! Jamie’s learning Portuguese for Aurélia. Colin (yeah, remember him?) is headed to America, while his roommate Tony is back to work at the film set, where Judy and Jack are being stand-ins for a myriad of sex positions, and Jack asks Judy on a date, which she accepts! A very cute couple, all things considered. They go out on a date on Christmas Eve, and the two kiss on the doorstep. They are legitimately adorable.

Colin arrives at a bar in the United States, and as soon as he orders a beer, his accent IMMEDIATELY draws the attention of Stacey, Jeannie, and Carol-Anne (Ivana Miličević, January Jones, and Elisha Cuthbert). And...IT FUCKING WORKED? These girls are all immediately into him, and invite him to stay with them at their place. However, they only have a small bed, and no couch. Not to mention the fourth girl, Harriet. But he bites the bullet, and accepts the invitation. And once he gets there, the sex proceeds in shadow. I cannot believe it worked, and it’s kind of hilarious.

Meanwhile, the jig is up for Harry. He did indeed get the necklace, and Karen finds it in his pocket before Christmas, assuming that it’s for her. However, when Christmas comes, Harry gives her a Joni Mitchell CD instead, and she realizes that the necklace was for Mia. Which is...shattering. Karen’s extremely hurt by this, fucking understandably.

Christmas Eve! Billy Mack’s song, despite the odds being completely against him, has reached the number one spot on the charts. He appears to be quite happy at a party celebrating him, although his manager appear slightly less so. Wonder why. Jamie, meanwhile, heads to the airport, quite on impulse. Wonder why.

Karl bids Sarah a good night and a Merry Christmas, and she cries when she realizes that their chance of getting together again is shot. Damn. She goes to visit her brother, and I gotta say - she’s a very loving sister. And then...well, it’s the scene. The most famous scene in the movie. You know the one.

youtube

And here’s the thing about this scene: is it superficially romantic? Yeah, sure, I guess. And it’s true that Mark doesn’t actually expect anything to come from this, but...this is still an AMAZINGLY shitty thing to do to someone in a committed relationship that involves your friend. Because it could potentially sabotage their relationship. I mean, maybe she’d be tempted to kiss you in a brief moment of infidelity that initially seems romantic, but is kinda fucked up when you really think about it.

Yeah, yeah, LITERALLY JUST LIKE THAT

OK, after that terrible idea, Bill shows up by surprise at his manager Joe’s place, and notes that he could be going to a big party at this point, but Christmas is a time to spend with his family and loved ones, and that the closest thing to that is, in fact, his manager, who is in fact the love of his life. Not sure if that’s necessarily romantic, but that is still sweet. Anyway, they get drunk and watch porn together. Yup.

David, meanwhile, gets a bevy of Christmas cards, one of which comes from Natalie. She apologizes for the kiss situation, and refers to herself as “Your Natalie”. Time to get in the fuckin’ car, David. He drives down to her neighborhood, and goes from door-to-door until he finds Natalie’s place. Her and her entire family are headed to a school concert, and David offers to give her and her little brother a lift there.

On the way there, the two begin to admit their feelings for one another, and Natlie notes that the President forced herself on her, but nothing else happened. While he’s reluctant about the whole affair, she brings him into the concert backstage. As he enters, he runs into his sister Katie, who’s glad to see him, and is clearly holding back tears because of the Harry situation. Judy and Jack are also there, as well as Daniel and Sam (who’s in the concert).

The kids’ concert takes place, and its headed by a solo from Sam’s crush, Joanna (Olivia Olson), who...WAIT, OLIVIA OLSON? As in...

...Huh. Of all the members of this ensemble cast, she’s the one I least expected! But OK! As expected, she’s an excellent singer, and headlines a rendition of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas”. Which seems mildly inappropriate for a kid’s concert, but whatever, sure. She points at various people when saying “is you” in the song, but never at Sam, who’s on the drums. Oof. Sorry, buddy.

The song ends, and the curtain drops, and...

Well, uh...shit. I ean, I’m happy for them both, but David’s officially FUCKED at this point. However, the crowd seems to receive it very well, and that’s lucky. The night ends, and everyone disbands for the night. Harry and Karen are amongst them, and Karen confronts him. She asks what would he do if he were in her position, revealing her knowledge about the necklace. And it’s...affecting, goddamn. He’s made a fool of himself and of her, and she’s struggling.

Daniel congratulates Sam about his performance, but notes that it didn’t work Still, Daniel encourages him to tell Joanna his feelings for her, and he goes to get his things first. Daniel bumps into Carol (Claudia Schiffer), and there’s a connection. Daniel and Sam go to speak with Joanna, but they’re on their way to the airport. They run to meet her there, like in a terrible romance movie. Wait -

At the airport, Daniel and Sam are too late, but decide to make a run for it while Rufus (KING OF GIFT WRAPPERS) is holding up the attendant while looking for his boarding pass. Sam bolts, unnoticed, and Rufus walks away, giving Daniel a knowing look as he passes by, LIKE A KING. Sam bolts through the metal detectors, as the post-9/11 airport attendants RIGHTFULLY FREAK OUT ABOUT THIS WHOLE SITUATION. However, they’re once again distracted by Billy Mack on TV and he catches up to Joanna before being taken away by the fuzz. However, she gives him a kiss on the cheek, and Sam and Daniel hug. Supportive father-son relationship is sweet.

Jamie goes to find Aurélia in Portugal, and the entire village ends up following him until getting to the restaurant were he works, and proposes to her in INSANELY broken Portuguese, which is hilarious. And she accepts...IN ENGLISH! Which is saccharine as fuck...but also sweet.

We cut to a month later, and everybody’s at the airport for the Epilogue. And we’re gonna do this...well, bit by bit.

Billy Mack and Joe: Career’s going well, and a comeback is imminent. Not in a romantic relationship, but still extremely close friends...I think.

Juliet, Peter, and Mark: Juliet and Peter are still together; Mark is still single, seemingly. They meet up with...

Jamie and Aurélia: Coming to England for the first time together, and still in love.

Daniel and Sam: Went to see Joanna at the airport, and Daniel is now dating Carol, which is nice!

Harry and Karen: Oof, icy. They definitely don’t appear to be on good terms, and we never learn why Harry’s been away, but yeah. Not looking good for their relationship, understandably.

Jack and Judy: Married! FUCK YEAH! Adorable. They run into...

Colin and Tony: Colin’s back, and he’s brought back Harriet (Shannon Elizabeth) and her sister Carla (Denise Richards), who IMMEDIATELY takes a liking to Tony and they make out at the gate. Can’t believe that Colin was right, goddamn.

David and Natalie: David’s back from a visit somewhere overseas, and he and Natalie happily reunite right in front of the press, and it’s sweet.

And we’re full-circle, as countless people at the airport reunite in loving embraces. And, I gotta say...it is sweet, but you ever been to a crowded airport around Christmastime? Dude, I’ve been to JFK around that time period, and lemme tell you, it’s less happy reunions, and more pissed-off TSA, lost luggage, stressed out EVERYBODY, and Cinnabon. That last one’s not a complaint...I just really want Cinnabon.

Mmmmmmmm...OH RIGHT, THAT’S All Around (AKA Love Actually). This has been...a lot. BUT, I’ll get into the whole thing in the Review! See you there!

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demonprosecutor · 4 years

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that sad belphie post i made a long time ago that @beelsbreakfast asked me to make a fic about

She dreams of that moment often, the bruises around her neck, the static creeping across her vision, and the laughter that rings mocking in her ears. She dreams of that darkness, dreams of the voice that never comes and dreams of being buried six feet under and dirt on her casket. Sometimes, she wakes up with Mammon curled up at her side, other times she doesn’t, and she’s left sitting up in the darkness of her room, sweat slicking her skin and blankets clutched to her chest as she tries not to cry (but fails, she always failed).

Mammon, Amihan knows, is concerned --- in that sweet, blustering way of his, his body curving towards her like the swaying of an ancient oak. But even he, the second-born, second-strongest, wouldn’t be able to protect her from the monsters of her own making. “Ya look like shit,” he says, a whisper that curls against her cheek, thumb brushing against the dark bags under her eyes.

Death, Amihan finds, changes people and the careless joy she had once felt had disappeared. This was another grave marked in the cemetery of her mind, hands aching with the effort to claw at the dirt. She smiles up at him, placing a hand on his chest, “not as shitty as you,” Amihan teases gently --- turning her head just enough to allow for his palm to cradle her cheek.

There’s heartbreak written all over his features, a brand of fury that comes being helpless. She can see his free hand flexing at his side, like he wanted nothing more than to whisk her into his room and never let her go. Protect her in the way he couldn’t when he held her dying body in his arms.

(sometimes, her nightmares consist of a door and the people that waited for her behind it. Was it right to stay?)

Mammon rolls his eyes, quirk of lip that reveals the glinting sharpness of his canine, the cockiness diminished with the cute blush that was always prevalent whenever they had moments like this – intimacy that rests quiet and sweet amid the chaos of the Devildom. In a better life, in a simpler one, she could fall in love with Mammon (like in the way she knew he loved her), but she couldn’t. Did she really deserve this devotion? “You—I just… You know I’ll always p-protect you.”

But was that the case? I died already once. But she keeps her thoughts to herself, running her hand down his arm and tangling their fingers together with a smile. “I know.” Amihan says soothingly, heart aching at the way he nods furiously, a puppy in his love and affection. But there are things you can’t protect me from. Monsters of my own making, monsters of my own making, monsters of my own making.

No matter how hard Belphegor tried, and he made valiant efforts, to his credit, but like an animal harmed --- Amihan equated him with pain and fear. They see it, as clear as day, the way her behavior shifts: eyes watchful like a hawk’s, body coiled tight with tension and voice that shook no matter how hard she tried to hold back that waver. It angered them, it infuriated them, it broke them. But as much as they loved her, they loved Belphegor just as much, so they were left to watch.

----

Lucifer watches her sometimes, the way she stands in front of a mirror, touching the ring of fading bruises around her neck, eyes rimmed red and angry before her fist lashes out and shatters the glass with a scream of rage that tapers off to sobbing. Blood smears on glass and he appears at her side, cradling her hand and chiding her gently, the soft croon of someone attempting to console a grieving person. You’re ok now, I promise. You think I would lie to you about that? You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe. The promise rest heavy in his heart, knows that heaven and earth and hell would tremble in wake of his ferocity if it meant that she wouldn’t be scared any longer.

---

Mammon watches her sometimes, the way her brow furrows in her sleep and fingers clinging to the sheets and sweat beading at her forehead. She always whispers something under her breath: I know who you are, Lilith come back. I know who you are. Before she whimpers, thrashing in the sheets (Mammon’s learned to not try and restrain her, she woke up in a panic attack that had the rest of his brothers crowding into his room, fire flickering in their eyes and the ozone of power clouding his room) before Amihan wakes up with an animal shriek --- hand flying to her throat.

She hates crying, he knows that, but there’s a sickly-satisfied part of himself that relishes in the knowledge of this rawness being for himself, pulling her into his arms and rocking them until the sobs subside to hiccups. “What was your dream this time?” Mammon would whisper into her hair, and she would shake her head. The dreams were her own burden to bear. “Ok, ok, ya silly human. Let’s go back t’sleep.” And he would pull them down to sleep, not sleeping until her breathing evens out.

---

Leviathan watches her sometimes, the way she zoned off during their anime marathons, the melancholy that droops her features and whenever she gets like that, Levi knows better than to try and coax her into conversation. Silence, he found, can just as be loud as noise and those times he had yelled at her to quiet down filled him with regret – anything, anything, is what he would do just to see a glimpse of her smile.

“I wish I could be better, but…” She looks at him, curious, eyes deader than dead and Levi shudders, his heart aching in a way that he’s never felt before. But what? What could you give her that could bring her back? “… I’m not good at this.” His face flushes, “Still… I just want you to be happy and I’ll do anything for you and---” His tangent is halted with her hand on his, the blush deepening at the small smile. He’s filled with something --- love and affection, Levi thinks wildly. And he pulls her close, arms around her body, small and lean. “If… if you want.. we can have a sl-sleepover. And we can talk and I can listen.” Because that’s the only thing he can do at this point.

---

Satan watches her sometimes, the way she no longer smiled at her books, never looked up with some hopeful quote laying sweet on her lips. Death changes people, he’s realized, witnessing it firsthand, she’s realized that she wasn’t infallible any longer. Even with their protection that Amihan can still get hurt – it was unfortunate that it was one of the brothers that had harmed her in the first place. Their shoulders press together, a line of heat that he can clearly feel, so distracting that he’s reread the same sentence for 10 minutes now, so embroiled in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Amihan watching him until the soft rasp of paper turning ceased. “A penny for your thoughts?” He turns his head and watches as she waves her hand, a human penny appearing between her fingers, chuckling alongside her. It had taken her a while to get a hang of that trick.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile.” Satan curses himself at the way the tentative smile falls, her gaze averting to a distance that he cannot see. Sometimes, no matter how close she was, it felt like she was miles away.

She chuckles mirthlessly, flicking the coin in the air with a crisp ring before it lands in her palm. Tails. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been happy.” That hurts Satan for some reason because was he not enough to make her happy? However, he’s grown past that juvenile part of himself and halts his tongue. This wasn’t about him, but her. The sad woman holding a penny in her hands and the stars dying in her eyes.

“What can I do to help?”

Amihan doesn’t answer for some time before grabbing his hand and pressing a penny into his palm, her expression thoughtful. “Be there for me?” As if she ever needed to ask, as if there was any question. Satan must’ve nodded because the relief on her face was visible before she lays her head on his shoulder and they continue to read well into the night.

---

Asmodeus watches her sometimes, sitting on the steps and staring out in the eternal twilight of their night. It’s later than what he’s used to, especially considering that sleep deprivation was known to fuck up your skin, but it’s been hard to sleep nowadays, especially with the turmoil that links them both. “It’s a nice night.” He doesn’t move from his place at the doorframe, making sure that his presence was known. Startling Ami had stopped being funny after the first few times she had punched him, ruining his appearance (not that it wasn’t difficult to fix it, but the pretense was all the same). But he didn’t necessarily like the annoyance that seemed darken her features.

She doesn’t turn back to look at him, the only indication that she even was alive was the fact her shoulders lifted and dropped with each breath. “It is. The moon’s very big.” Asmo laughs at that, striding closer and dusting off the step before sitting next to her, allowing the scent of lavender and vanilla to permeate in the air --- normally so cloying and choking, but at that moment, reassured her beyond compare. Without much preamble, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and places his head on hers, cheek pillowed by her locks.

“It’s always big, love.” He squeezes her slightly and Ami’s half-expecting a lewd comment about how his dick is big too, but it doesn’t come and she appreciates the tact. Knows that Asmo knows when to tease and when not to. “Now, I prefer you with a smile on your lips. What’s wrong?” He croons this softly in her ear, more to relax than to entice, but it doesn’t work because he feels her shoulders tighten and then shake like a young earthquake. Her head is bowed and something in his chest squeezes in pain, vicelike grip making it hard for him to breath.

Without much thought, he kneels in front of her, tipping her chin up with a thumb and forefinger, distressed at the agony of Ami’s features – exhaustion evident. She hasn’t slept in so, so long. A ghoul that had stolen her skin. It’s not love he has, Asmo thinks in that introspective moment of his, but it’s close to it, it’s heading to it. He sweeps in, cupping her face and pressing their foreheads together, an action so intimate, an action so sweet that it terrifies him. “Stay with me.” Asmo whispers, their lips so close that he ached to kiss her. But in her grief, he couldn’t. “Not--- Not to have sex or whatever. Rest with me, I’ll hold you and let you rest and maybe we could…”

Grief, as a topic, unnerved him. Such a raw, ugly, visceral emotion that yanked out uncomfortable memories for him, reminded him of things he liked to forget. But the way Ami looked, like the sun choked by the clouds, perhaps, perhaps, he was willing to try. “--- we could do my skincare routine together, that never fails to lift my spirits, sweetheart.” He finishes lamely, pulling back with a rare blush, especially with the way she considered him. Asmo had his fair share of creating beauty eons ago, but she looked at him as though he hung the stars and moon themselves.

He stands up and holds out his hand, something in his chest fluttering when she takes it.

---

Beelzebub watches her sometimes, the way she punches the leather-bound punching bag, hard enough that her knuckles sting and blood wells into the grey of the hand-wraps. He knows a thing or two about trying to escape their inner demons and she, the fragile human, thinks that to escape is to fight it out – to completely exhaust herself until she’s nothing, but a shell of her former self. It hurts to watch her grief, hurts to know that his twin was the product of that hurt, is torn between loyalty to his twin and love for her.

The hits are jarring enough, inelegant enough that Beel knows that Ami is no longer practicing for the sake of practicing, but intending on feeling something other than the hurt that seeped itself into her bones, into all of their bones, because having pacts meant that they were connected to Amihan in ways that no one else could understand.

And he reaches out, gentle hands that curl over aching fists and he’s not surprised to see the tears in her eyes. Ami’s hands shake in his, violently enough that it takes a few seconds for her to stop, not meeting his watchful, quiet gaze, as he unwraps the bandages – clicking his tongue at the raw redness and blood smeared on her knuckles, dragging her over to the first aid kit and cleaning up the small wounds.

Even with his focus stolen by the methodical motions of cleaning her wounds and bandaging it up --- Beel frowns slightly at the way she stared at her hands. “It won’t help, Ami.” He says gently, tilting her chin up with two fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes, just to cement his words firmly into her mind. “Hurting yourself like this won’t help you feel any better.”

Still, still, she laughs bitterly and pulls her chin away from his grasp, hands curling into fists once again. It’s then, Beelzebub realizes, that he knows that she was the type to dwell on hurt, on mistakes, thinking about what could’ve done for this to never happen. “I know,” Ami says, exhausted suddenly. “I just wanted to feel something else.”

Beel has felt grief before and this, this, makes the familiar emotion well up and squeeze his chest and force him to pull her into a small hug. Arms around her and his body curving forward slightly, as if his presence could ward off all the nightmares.

It won’t help, but he could try.

---

Belphegor watches her sometimes, in the careful way she acts around him, that the moment he enters a room, she tenses up and any joviality that was present in her expression mutes itself into caution. His chest seizes every single fucking time because he can clearly remember the times where she never acted like that around him, where all the love and joy and affection flowed from her like an unending fountain.

He does not know love like her’s and he knows that there won’t ever be a sort of love like that ever again for him. It makes him ache to be aware of the fact that this reticence was a product of his own doing and nothing else.

His offers come frequently, stubbornly, even if she declined or if Ami did accept, she would always bring one of his brothers along as a safeguard. And Belphegor wants to shake her by the shoulders, to say: Can’t you see? I’m in love with you! I won’t hurt you anymore!

But in the time, the demon has known Ami, he knows that her deaths and his manipulations will hang above them both. That any happy ending that had been destined has been dashed away the moment he decided: ah yes, I will use her.

There’s a hunger for that love once again. How she bared her soul and heart for him without regard of herself, so naively trusting and sweet that it shook him to the core. But they know to never leave her alone with him for the one time he had cornered her in a room, she had a panic attack so intense that his brothers barged into the room, in their demon forms, frenzied by the idea of a threat harming their precious human. But upon finding Belphegor and Ami on the ground sobbing and curled into a ball, two and two were placed together. They never left her alone with him after that incident

“I love you.” He blurts this out, despite the fact that Mammon was there, despite the rage that rose forth on his older brother’s features to retort, but any venom was halted by Ami’s hand on his arm. Belphegor looks away, rubbing his arm, “I know I hurt you and I know you probably won’t forgive me. But I … After all this time, I love you and I was dumb for not realizing it earlier. Ami… please accept me.

She stares at him, but with a wistful look, smiling sadly. “…The shitty thing about this is that I was ready to forgive you, to throw myself at your feet for any sign of affection and love in return. And I do still love you.” There’s a hopeful expression on Belphie’s face, eyes bright, “but not in the way you want or think you want. You had your chance and you knew all the deep terrible things about me, but you still hurt me. What makes you any better than my parents? That you love me? Because they love me too.”

Ami pushes herself to her feet, and dusts her pants off, “Maybe one day I’ll forgive you, but not now.” She moves to the door, shoulders slumping slightly, Mammon wrapping an around her in reassurance. “this is the bed of your own making, Belphegor. Now lie in it.”

#obey me #aku writing #my writing #aku oc: amihan #whoa this turned out long #and the ending sucks dick because i got tired of it LOL #abuse tw

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albatris · 4 years

Note

🩸✂️ for tris, 🌋for noa, ⏰🧸💬 for avery??? this is a lot sorry ksdhfjbsdfjsbfbsd

hey hello thank you for the ask!! :D sorry my replies got so long hfdgkjdfgh

🩸 - Does your OC believe in blood being thicker than water? (meaning family relationships and loyalties are the most important)

I think.......... at the start of the story Tris would be a pretty big believer in blood being thicker than water, at least on some level? like

I don’t think he necessarily views his family relationships as “more important” than his other relationships, but he does view them as something Significant and Inherently Important simply BECAUSE they’re family

it’s not a belief he’s examined much before the start of the story, so there’s a lot of real dodgy shit he lets slide purely because It’s Family and at the end of the day there’s a level of forgiveness and loyalty there that’s almost a knee-jerk reaction for him

towards the end of the story his perspective starts to shift, and eventually he’ll land on a belief closer to, like........ well, a family relationship is just a relationship like any other, there’s nothing Deep and Special and Magical about it, and you don’t have to make excuses for their shitty behaviour just ‘cause they’re related to you

I think once he’s a few years into adulthood the phrase “blood is thicker than water” will become something that pisses him off a lot lmao

✂️ - What kind of thing would have your OC cut someone out of their life? How likely are they to let someone back in?

lmao nothing he’s a huge pushover

no, he’s not so good with setting boundaries, it would probably take a lot to make him cut someone out completely. that is fucking STRESSFUL business. and anyone he did manage to cut out, he’d be very easily swayed into letting them back in

there might be a level of distance he’ll keep with them, but yeah, like I said, he’s kind of a pushover

bur YEAH if I had to name something, I'd say a significant enough betrayal of trust might do it, since trust is real dicey business for Tris, and the very very very small handful of folks he’s willing to place complete trust in are fully aware that this is a Really Big Fucking Deal for him and not something to be taken lightly. so being intentionally manipulated or misled by someone in that circle would be a pretty devastating blow to him and might be cause for him to shut someone off completely

but hey if I'm being honest, it doesn't often occur to Tris that he's, like......... allowed?? to be mad about stuff?? he tends to assume he's in the wrong by default so "this person wronged you and you're allowed to cut them out" is generally not on his radar even slightly :P and even if it is, he still tends to wait for some kind of cue or permission from someone else that he's allowed to act on it

kinda tying into the previous answer, like, his parents are both quite terrible people, n eventually all three Greer siblings end up cutting ties with them entirely, but like..... yeah, Tris’s perspective on his family changes a lot over the course of the story, but for a long time the idea of Just Cutting Ties is still just........... unthinkable. too much. forbidden

the tipping point is that Becca, the only Greer sib capable of being assertive, cuts ties basically as soon as she moves out of home, so like, maybe four or five years post-story? and just drops completely off the grid, doesn’t respond to their parents’ messages, doesn’t pick up the phone, doesn’t tell them where she’s going, she’s just Out. clean break

which leads both Tris and Jacob to be like “hold on we can DO that????? since when the fuck was that an option????”

I think both of them just kind of assumed that if they cut ties the world would immediately explode but in reality it’s just like.................. well, that happened

Tris Applies One Single Boundary And The Universe Doesn’t Immediately Shatter, and I will say it comes a little easier the next time he has to do it

🌋 - What’s your OCs temper like? Are they a slow boil, or an instant explosion?

oh, Noa is very much an instant explosion. she’s got a lot of rage y’all and she’s ready to roll whenever

though tbf she’s done a lot of work around emotion regulation, and these days won’t often Visibly Instantly Explode, like....... her anger tends to shoot up real quick and be pretty intense, but she’s gotten pretty good at controlling it and bringing it down to a manageable level, and like........... NOT making snap decisions and lashing out impulsively

there’s generally a space between the anger and the Explosion where she asks herself “is this unnecessary?” or “is this more trouble than it’s worth?” and sometimes the answer to these questions is yes and sometimes the answer is an emphatic no

so on an internal level I would say her temper tends to run pretty high, but it’s not always something she lets out. she’s pretty good at managing it nowadays, where she used to often land in heated arguments or fights or it would turn pretty self-destructive

that being said, she’s still a very easy person to tick off, much to the entertainment of various other characters particularly Kai

though I think her short fuse and being easy to tick off and her Actual Anger are two completely different scenarios, both to do with a short temper but in different directions, maybe :P

I would say the two Noa Anger Modes are “will you stop clicking that fucking pen” and Full-On Righteous Fury

⏰ - What is your OC like at timekeeping? Are they punctual, or always running late?

Avery is punctual to a fault and gets REAL mad when other people aren’t lmao. I think he considers it pretty rude to run late to things, since he thinks it gives the impression that you don’t value other people’s time. running late to shit is the quickest way to make him dislike you

it's not PROFESSIONAL

🧸 - On a scale of 1 - 10, how ‘soft’ is your OC? 1 being the edgiest of edges and 10 being a literal teddy bear that cries at everything? (Bonus questions: where on the scale would your OC place themselves, and where would they like to be on the scale?)

oh, he’s about a 7, I’d say? he’s certainly not, like, a complete and total edgelord, but he’s definitely more on the prickly side of things than he is the teddy bear side............ he’s fairly reserved, he’s not INTENTIONALLY standoffish but he definitely gives off some hardcore unapproachable vibes at times. he’s pretty easily irked as well and his weapon of choice is passive-aggression, so he can be...... yeah, a Lot

as for the way he carries himself, well, he’s very prim and proper and formal, very crisp, and I think people tend to find him either a touch intimidating or unbelievably pretentious. either way is fine with him, he's happy to lean into it :P

I think he considers himself around a 7 too, but would rather like to be a 9

the thing about Avery is he's always trying real hard to be the most cool and suave and edgy but like....... he's still kind of a dweeb, as most characters in this story are

💬 - Is your OC much of a talker? Do they only speak when spoken to? (Or not even then?) Do they ever talk over others?

oh this bastard LOVES talking. this bastard will talk about anything. this bastard will interrupt a conversation you are having with your friend on the bus to correct you on a fact you got wrong

but yeah, he’s a pretty engaging conversation partner generally speaking, he enjoys those more intellectual and philosophical discussions and, kinda, being “challenged” in a conversation? like, this is the best person to talk to if you get a kick out of a good friendly debate, I think c:

#goosemixtapes #long post #SO LONG IM SORRY #atdao

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

Bricks - Punk!AU [Terushima]

Here is the first chapter of Terushima’s route in Elixir! If you haven’t read the prologue, I’ll leave a link here as well as at the bottom of the chapter’s navigation. Artwork is not mine so if we find the artist, can someone please let me know so I can properly credit them?

Ya know, this is probably least popular post/series on here but I’m in it and I write what I want 🤙🏻

Lyrics are italicized and sang entirely in your voice.

WARNINGS: this kinda fluffy chapter involves cheating, vulgar language, indirect use of marijuana, and cocaine use. There is a brief mention of you getting drugged a party and mild sexual themes as well, but nothing super heavy. Just making out. Please please please do not read if any of these themes make you uncomfortable.

Word count: ~4K

Song used: Brick by Boring Brick - Paramore

A complementary playlist can be found » here

“Can we run Brick By Boring Brick one more time? My vocals were kinda meh.” Was your response to Kuroo’s question. The rest of your bandmates look to you in surprise, which you feared that they might since there was nearly no flaws in the song at all. After all, it was a pretty straightforward song with simple beat and melody. “I-I think my notes were just a little flat and my timing’s off, that cool with you guys?” Both of the guitarists looked to each other before turning to face the drummer, who gave a reassuring grin to you.

“If that’s what you wanna work on, baby, then we’ll do it.” You had half a mind to reprimand Terushima about using pet names with you while his girlfriend was present. Not that it necessarily should have raised anybody’s suspicions—more often than not, Teru called everybody by some form of a nickname, whether it be out of affection or because he didn’t know a person’s name was entirely dependent on the situation. In truth, you loved the lyrics to this song more than anything, even more so that the same man you wanted to reprimand was the one who helped inspire you to write it.

It started off with easy power chords and a steady drum beat, until Makki took his place as the steadfast rhythm. The intro takes a few bars of space before you begin your first verse nearly twenty-five seconds in.

She lives in a fairytale

There were many reasons that this song was special to you. For starters, it was one of the few pieces that Elixir had in their repertoire that emphasized and valued the distinct differences between yours and Makki’s vocals. Naturally, you tended to have a higher yet shorter range, whereas Makki was capable of complimenting you in more ways than one.

Another was that, since this was a second song in the set after a taxing song like Besitos, Brick By Boring Brick was much more tame, yet still held an easy feel to it that the audience could weave and bob along at a leisurely pace. It was a crowd pleaser while simultaneously having bits and pieces in which the crowd could engage by clapping along with the beat, which always gave you an additional burst of energy.

Finally, this song truly highlighted the things that Terushima did for the band. This blondie was in charge of setting that pace to fire up the crowd; he was in charge in holding the steady rhythm to keep the four of you in time.

He was the reason you wrote the song.

Not that anyone else in the band knew that the words comprised in the verses were strings of feelings you’d had towards the man in a non-obvious way.

She’s ripping off wings of butterflies.

You smiled as you drawled the line out, staring at the three girlfriends sitting on a couch together not ten feet from you. They were staring back at you as well, not that you could be bothered in the moment. Right now, your focus was on making sure you were hitting the high notes in the right key when you entered the chorus. Considering you wrote the song, it shouldn’t have been hard for you to hit. Then again, you’d been smoking nearly a pack a day for seven years—there were bound to be raspy inconsistencies. After the first chorus, you were granted a moment’s reprieve as Makki scatted a simple line, his soprano contrasting your tenor in all the right ways. And while you loved hearing your bassist sing, you were entranced in the way Teru focused on emphasizing the drum beat, considering you and Kuroo were essentially mute for the brief moment.

Terushima hated the second verse of the song with every fiber of his being, but he loved seeing how joyous you looked when you sang it. He hates it because he knows why you wrote it and he hates because he knows you feel the same way he does.

The first time he cheated on his girlfriend was with you. Or rather, you were the only person he cheated on her with, and the first time it had happened, you were so overrun with guilt that you laid naked in his bed, curled into a ball and sobbed. Yet the two of you couldn’t stop, refused to stop, no matter how much guilt flooded your bodies.

More importantly, he hated the song implied that he was some sort of prince when he lacked the grace of one and the implication that he saved you. He did no such thing—if anything, he destroyed you.

But it was a trick and the clock struck twelve

How Terushima was able to focus on drumming when every time he heard his song, all he could think of were the secret trysts between the two of you, was beyond him. But hearing that line constantly reminded him that your relationship was illusion made of paper thin glass that could be shattered in an instant. Hence the line,

Build your home brick by boring brick or the wolf’s gonna blow it down.

Yūji was thankful that Elixir was home for you because it was home for him too. The bricks that built your guys’ foundation was the many years of friendship and memories together. A lot of them were firsts—the first time you all met; the first time you all hung out outside of work; the first time you all drank together despite being underage; the first time Yūji offered to smoke everyone up and the way you hesitated, never having smoked weed before. He distinctly remembers having to work a bong for you because you couldn’t grasp the concept of the mechanics.

Terushima remembers the first and only time you got drugged at a party in college and he how he had never felt the fear swelling in his body so bad. The same night the four of you vowed that you were done with the party life and how the only people you trusted was the four people holding instruments right now. Sometimes he would use these type of thoughts to ease yours and his guilt for his infidelity when, in reality, Terushima really just didn’t know how to tell her he didn’t want to be with her. Minami meant well, that much he knew. She wanted to see him succeed in life, as opposed to the way he was wasting away in his mom’s basement while playing in a band with his high school best friends. According to her, Terushima was destined for something greater than the way his life was going, but he also was too pathetic to do anything about it. She’d told him once he would never go anywhere if he didn’t try to push himself.

You built up a world of magic, because your real life is tragic.

The only way that Terushima felt that he was destined for something greater was when he was with you buried and twisted up in the sheets of your apartment. Naked or not, there was no better feeling for him than when he got to lay beside you, reassuring you that he was going to leave Minami one day. But you weren’t stupid, and you swore that it was better for the group if you two remained incognito. Your delusions convinced you that Kuroo and Makki would be more upset to know that the two of you were fucking behind each other’s back, as opposed to respecting the “homeostasis of the group”, as Kuroo called it. Deep down, you knew and Teru knew that the others would be so happy to finally see you both stop embarrassingly trying to bottle your feelings because man you guys flooded rooms with sexual tension.

If it’s not real, you can’t hold it in your hand.

Yūji Terushima loved many things about you. He loved your passion for life, the vivacious nature you brought to everything you did, how you made dirty words sound like praise and compliments and not just when you sang. However, he could live without you singing songs that had constant digs at him and you and your guys’ shitty situation, but even then, he could listen to you forever. Even if there were times he could see the veins in your neck begin to protrude in efforts to try to raise your pitch, Teru swore you were an angel. Even if you would lean your head on Makki while the two of you closed out the song in harmony, he knew the feelings you had for Makki were different than what you felt for him. You were special to him and he was special to you.

“Satisfied, princess?” The drummer asks you, not even remotely out of breath after the track. You gave a roll of your eyes before grabbing another beer from the mini-fridge just to the side of the stairs, making sure to hand one to each of your mates. By the second turn around, you noticed that the couch was now vacant and Terushima was excusing himself, plucking the tall can from your hands. “Just gonna walk ‘em out real quick, be right back.” It takes everything in him in that moment not to reach over and peck your lips, like he’s not saying his goodbye to his actual girlfriend for the evening.

“So, did that sound better or—“ while your question was technically finished, the remaining bandmates stared at you knowingly. You were thankful all the girlfriends left. “What?”

“Don’t think we didn’t see that.” Kuroo muses. Everyone in the band knew, to some degree, that you liked Terushima. It was so painstakingly obvious, yet you chose to live in denial that you would ever have him. Even though the mutual pining between the two of you had gone on for years, you were adamant on remaining neutral and keeping the friend group together until Terushima had finally given up on you.

Well, he did give up on you, until the first time he had laid victim to the verbal assault, for lack of better term, to Minami’s insults. She knew how to play him better than he did his drums, knew that to keep him hooked she just had to sit there and stroke his fragile ego and tell him he was the most amazing person in the world. That Terushima was worthy of all the love and praise she showered him in, before she would follow it with knocking him back down to size. The first time he heard it three months ago, he had spiraled so hard that nobody was even in contact with him for a week. Every day for seven days, Terushima was so far gone, blowing through his monthly supply of weed and tapping into his emergency stash of edibles. So far gone with nothing to numb him except for dabbling with blow, hoping the high of cocaine would soothe his need for constant reaffirmation.

Spoiler alert—it didn’t.

“You saw nothing.” You bit back, glaring at the two men before you before taking a gracious glug of your ale to quell your embarrassment.

“We aren’t stupid, babe.” Makki chimes, setting down his guitar and leaning on his amp to stare at you. “Why are you guys even putting yourselves through this? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Let me humor you, Makki,” your voice is dry, and contrarily humorless as you sit on top of a spare stool that Kuroo kept nearby for when he had to switch to acoustic guitar. “Say we date and everything’s all happy and shit, hooray! But then it’s like we leave you guys behind. I would never forgive myself for that.”

“[name], we would never let you leave us behind.” Kuroo blanches in rebuttal.

“Okay, but what if we have to end things and it gets messy? You’ve seen how I can get.” The latter leaves your lips bitterly, knowing full well that when you were mad, there was no object off limits to you and they would inevitably be broken and thrown. “It’s just not worth throwing away our ten plus years of friendship.”

“I’m not worth it, huh?” Teru announces as he walks back down the basement stairs, face sullen as he heard every word of the conversation. Seeing his own grave expression cracks your heart like concrete in an earthquake.

“T-Teru, no...”

“Everyone get the fuck out.” Sensing the volatility of the situation, Hanamaki and Kuroo remove their instruments cautiously, fearing that the slightest upset would unleash the kraken of Terushima’s bitter rage. Gathering their belongings, the two men began to trickle out, stopping when they realized you’d yet to move. They glanced at each other in worry, unsure of whether or not they needed to drag you out of the basement or stay to back you up for an inevitable argument. Their decision was made for them when Terushima repeated, “get the fuck out!”

“No.” Sometimes, everyone hated how stubborn you were, especially Kuroo and Makki. Everyone hated how stubborn you both were.

“[name], please try to get this shit together. We have a show tomorrow for fuck’s sake.” The raven haired guitarist mumbled in defeat before thudding up the steps with Makki in tow, leaving you in the basement and Terushima halfway down the steps.

“I meant you too.” The blonde bites out, contradicting his movements as he descended down the stairs further. You don’t move, watching him cautiously as he pulls off a small panel of the wooden walls of the basement. “I mean it, [name],” all humor and sunshine has dried from his vocal chords as he says your name, something he does not do enough of. “Go. I-I can’t look at you right now.” Still, you remain, watching in wonder as begins cutting up a small rock on a silver tray near his drum kit, pulling out a bill and rolling it tightly.

“I thought you quit.” You say quietly, unsure of whether or not you should approach him.

“How can I?” Terushima’s voice is bitter and sharp, his statement accentuated with the sound of him snorting the line he had out on the tray. You could tell from his movements alone that he needed to adjust his nose ring after doing so. “Takes me to the only place where everything’s okay.”

“How is any of this okay, Yūji?”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” The blonde snaps, whipping his body around with a feral look in his eye. Out of context, it would have been stupid to say that considering all you said was his name. But you knew what it did to him to hear you say it, to not call him by his last name as you have for ten plus years; for you to not call him by the nickname that only you used. “You lost the right when you said I wasn’t worth it.”

“Yūji, I didn’t say that.” By now, your voice is pleading, begging for him to hear you out. As he stomps towards you, you expect him to grab you, either out of anger or love didn’t matter, you welcomed both. But instead he breezes right by you to sit on the couch where Minami once sat and buried his face in his hands. Hesitantly, you sat beside him, his silent cries coaxing you to approach. Terushima was shaking, the clothes on his back trembling as he mutely wracked sobs. “All I said is that I’m fucking terrified of throwing away everything we built for the last ten years.”

“Why can’t we just keep building?”

“Teru, you made that choice and I don’t blame you for it.” You shifted slightly beside him to face him despite his face still being covered. He meant it when he said he couldn’t look at you right now—he couldn’t stand to stare at you knowing he wouldn’t find judgment or anger like when he faced Minami. Every time he looked at you, he saw nothing but love and trust and he couldn’t help but be overrun with guilt over making the stupid decision to date Minami in the first place. “I made that choice, too.”

“I thought having her around would help me get over you.” A small, sympathetic hum vibrated between your tightly pursed lips. “I’m still hoping she does.” You know there’s truth to his words—there is. But even with that portion of honesty didn’t change the fact that he routinely cheated on his girlfriend with you and you can’t help but wonder how all of this happened in the first place and why you kept going along with it. There was no use in wondering, not when you had all the answers. Not when you knew the first time it had happened, he was so overrun with insecurities than Minami created and that you loved him so much that you couldn’t stand to see him talk about how much he hated himself. If infidelity was what was needed for him to see himself the way you see him, then so be it.

You needed him to see himself as the light that brought and kept the four of you together—kept you together. As the person that protected you at university after someone drugged your drink when nobody was looking. As the person who valued your safety more than he loved his freedom and proved it by getting everyone to put their party phase to rest. As the beautiful man that he was, even with scars that littered his face from old, retired piercings he had taken out because he thought they made him look stupid. You missed his lip rings.

You loved him so much that you couldn’t risk a sour relationship ruining your friendship with him forever. “Yūji, you know that I return your feelings...” With extreme carefulness, you pry Terushima’s hands away from his face and cradle them in your own. “You also know what I’m afraid of.”

“You can’t keep hiding behind that fucking excuse.” He snarls, his blown out pupils finally turning to face you. The harrowing of his eyes was daunting, taunting you with guilt that you were some how responsible for his dependency on cocaine. “Our friendship was ruined a long time ago.”

“You can’t keep a back up plan,” you countered, “either we face this together or we call it off.” As the words left your mouth, tears began to quietly roll down your cheeks, speaking your ultimatum into existence. You’d had enough. No more seeing your sunshine bury who he used to be under bumps; no more covering up his stupid amateur basement tattoos with hoodies and jeans because Minami didn’t like them; no more pretending that he was over you just to crawl into your lap after a bad high and kiss you. You couldn’t take it anymore, but neither could he.

With urgency and fire, Terushima’s trembling hands cup your cheeks, holding you in place like you would disappear if he hadn’t. Surely, had your lips not softened the blow, your teeth would have clacked with his from sheer force. Needing no further assurances, your eyes squeezed shut, basking in the warmth that radiated off of him. The stud in his tongue ran along your lower lip, asking for permission he knew he didn’t need before the muscle and metal traced along every surface in your mouth. Your fingers twisted and tangled at the base of his grown out undercut, trying to pull him impossibly close to you, trying to fuse his body with yours. “We face this together.” The blonde pants out, only taking a moment to recollect his oxygen before he’s on you once again. Clumsy, tattooed hands are tugging at the hem of your shirt while yours are unceremoniously clawing at his zip up hoodie to get it off of him. When both of you are faced with the need to pull cloth off of your torso, your hands press delicately to his inked chest, stopping him from professing.

“I love you.” You remind him softly, wondering how many times someone else had been underneath him, saying the same thing. Terushima doesn’t say anything in reply, instead latching his lips on the thin, sensitive skin on your neck. “Yūji, listen to me for a second.”

“No.” There was a fearful twinge to his voice that he could no longer mask. Fear that if the two of you stopped what you were doing, it would never happen again; fear that this wasn’t happening and he was too high and that he was imagining it all. It happened to him enough times. Knowing that he liked to be treated rough, your fingers thread through his matted locks once again, though this stop not out of pleasure.

“Listen to me,” you repeated, now scooting up a bit to rest on your elbows to keep you suspended. “I love you. And no matter what happens, I will always love you.”

His voice trembles, along with every bone in his body, as Terushima responds. “Please, you’re making this sound like this is the last time...” It broke your heart in more ways than one. Because, in a sense, it would be the last time. Only if the two of you couldn’t dive in together, only if he couldn’t end the relationship that was slowly tearing him apart from the inside out. “I promise, it’s you and me.” He’s far from calm, but he stills has your fingers trace down his sweaty brow, following down to the single dermal stud below his eye before dancing along his nose hoop. Knowing your path, Teru sticks his tongue out, allowing the tips of your fingers to trace the barbell that typically rested in his mouth. It’s an oddly intimate act, one that was only ever done by you, but it’s an act he loves nonetheless because it’s done by you. But while you love touching him, you know what he needs more than anything.

He needs to hear it.

“I’ve always loved the way you looked.” Your words of praise start off slow and your fingers gingerly graze over where the studs in his lips once resided. “I waited those two extra years for because I didn’t wanna move on to a new chapter in my life without you.” Terushima groans at the admission, unsure if he wanted to cry or kiss you in response. “It breaks my heart to see Minami treat you like you’re less than you are, because you are my sunshine. You bring light into everything you do and I can’t help but wonder if it’s my fault that she’s in the picture at all.”

Cry, he decides finally, because your words hurt him in the most sensual way.

“It’s my fault. I ran away, thinking if I just fucked someone else I would get over you.” Shit, now he’s blaming himself and the two of you are back at square one.

“No, Teru. It’s my fault for being chickenshit.” He doesn’t wanna hear it anymore, he decides, bringing his bruised and swollen lips back to yours. It doesn’t matter who’s fault it was or is, all that matters is that you stick true to your word. That after Minami’s out of the picture, the two of you hang on to each other tightly and dive headfirst into this new territory. “I love you so much and I’m so fucking sorry for ever holding back.”

“So don’t hold back anymore.”

[ Elixir « Bricks » Love Bites ]

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pinknerdpanda · 4 years

Text

Hey, Clarence

Characters: Castiel/Clarence x Reader Word Count: 1,674 Warnings: Fluffity fluff fluff. Requested by: @yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend Beta’d by @shy-violet-soul

A/N: This was written for my Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles. It is simultaneously based on “Winter Wonderland” (per the request) and also kinda “Hey Jude.” I wrote this as a continuation of Clarence and Clarence Returns from the last two years’ Christmas Drabbles. You don’t necessarily have to read those for this to make sense, but it would certainly help. Also, they are some of my favorite pieces I’ve written for Christmastime, so I hope you will indulge me and go give them a looksee. I hope you enjoy!

Gif Credit x

Hey, Clarence

Today has sucked.

Not so much in an earth-shattering, life-altering way. There was no singular catastrophic event that brought me to this conclusion; more a trail of small, shitty things that, on their own wouldn’t be so bad, but together - well, like I said. Today has sucked.

My cat ran away first thing this morning. I immediately dressed, frantic as my brain volleyed various “worst-case-scenario” thoughts around. As I opened the front door to begin my desperate search for my beloved feline companion, I nearly screamed when I found her, sitting on my doorstep, impassively licking her front paw and gazing up at me expectantly.

Then, when I got to work, I somehow managed to spill my coffee all over myself and my boss simultaneously five minutes before an important meeting. A meeting, which I would find out later, was doomed from the start - coffee stained blouses notwithstanding.

It has been downhill from there, really.

My resolution for the steadily fading year has been to - as the Beatles so eloquently put it - “take a sad song, and make it better”. The idea had struck me when someone in the bar picked “Hey Jude” on the jukebox, mere moments before the ball dropped. There may have been fireball involved. It’s all a bit hazy, now. But, inebriated or not, I’ve spent the last eleven and a half months actively trying to keep myself from wallowing in self-pity when life doesn’t go the way I want it to.

Which is how I found myself standing outside a trendy boutique downtown on a Monday night with a cup of hot apple cider clenched between my mittened hands. There’s only two weeks until Christmas, and I thought maybe rustling up a little Christmas cheer might keep the day from winding up a total bust. Two years ago, I'd found myself in the same spot when I’d met Clarence. Well, he said last Christmas his name was actually Castiel, but the adorable blue-eyed angel will always be Clarence to me. I sigh wistfully, missing my friend before turning my gaze back to the shop windows.

The shops downtown have all agreed on a theme for their displays this year - Winter Wonderland - in an effort to foster a sense of community between the businesses. I think there’s a competition involved, but I can guarantee that this display will be winning no awards.

Dozens of severely angled Christmas trees - all fashioned out of white paper - form a semi-circle in front of a stark white backdrop. More white paper has been manipulated into the shapes of what I can only assume are meant to be angry icicles and hang upside down from the ceiling. That’s not even the worst part. The five mannequins are all posed incredibly awkwardly; their plastic bodies contorted in unnatural positions that no flesh-and-blood person would be capable of. The icing on the cake is the weird-ass, monochromatic clothing they are all sporting. It looks half dystopian futuristic, half Grandma’s attic chic. It’s 100% the worst.

“That would appear to be less ‘Winter Wonderland’ and more ‘tortured in the bowels of hell’.

The familiar, gravelly voice makes me jump, nearly spilling a hot beverage on myself for the second time today. I whirl around to find the blue-eyed angel (what even is my life these days?) smiling warmly at me, a flicker of amusement playing across his face.

“Clare - er, I mean, Castiel, was it?” I stumble foolishly over my words.

“Clarence will be just fine.” He grins wider. “You know, we really should stop meeting this way.”

His joy is contagious and I find myself leaping happily towards him. He wraps his arms around me, holding tightly. Somehow I manage not to spill a drop on either one of us. Maybe this day is finally starting to look up.

“How did you find me?” I pull away from him, surprised to find a wet spot blooming on his tan coat where my face had been pressed against his chest. When had I started crying?

He smiles knowingly at me and I sigh, wiping away the trails of fresh tears.

“Let me guess. You heard my prayer?” He nods. “Which isn’t very fair; it wasn’t really a prayer. I was just thinking about you and how we met.”

He gestures toward the next window, shoving his hands in his pockets as we walk. This window is more inviting. Two snowmen - both nearly as tall as the handsome angel at my side - are angled to face each other. Adoring smiles brighten their faces and their twig hands intertwine between them. A pair of cheerful cardinals suspend over their heads carrying opposite ends of a banner adorned with a red heart in their beaks. Red and green holiday baubles frame the large glass barrier containing the couple.

“Now this,” I sigh, “this is more like it.”

“Yes,” he almost whispers. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

From the corner of my eye I see Clarence, his attention focused not on the window, but on me. A flood of warmth fills my face, despite the chilly air whipping around us. I don’t know if it’s the blush on my cheeks or the realization that he’d been caught staring, but his gaze drops to the ground suddenly and he clears his throat.

“It’s, uh,” he looks back up and tips his head toward the display, “this is much more wondrous, in my opinion.”

I nod, unable to comprehend this newfound tension now blossoming between us. As though he can sense my confusion, he takes a small, almost tentative step toward me.

“Y/n, do you remember the first time we met?” Clarence narrows his gaze, his head tipping slightly to one side and his lips pressed together.

“Of course. It was right over there,” I point to a shop across the road, it’s own window dressed in lovely sparkly Christmas tableau.

“You were - and continue to be - so lovely. Even with no celestial power to confirm my perception, I could see the beauty of your soul. From the moment you spoke, I felt drawn to you in a way I didn’t understand. I was in no position at the time to articulate this - nor had I a right to. I’m not exactly convinced that I have a right, even now, but when I heard your subtle prayer tonight, I felt a surge of joy I haven’t felt before. I wanted nothing more than to be here with you, as we were that first night.”

I blink rapidly. What is happening? Is he - is he saying…

Clarence takes another step closer to me, his cerulean eyes glittering gleefully under the street lamps and one corner of his mouth turned upward, but only just. He reaches a hand out, his calloused fingers brushing against my cheek, moving a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“I still don’t understand - “

I huff a breath, interrupting him and muttering “That makes two of us.”

He only smiles wider. “I don’t understand, but I knew I needed to tell you, and, perhaps…”

The smile falters gently and I realize his fingers are still grazing the curve of my jaw. His thumb brushes across my bottom lip and his gaze follows the movement as he swallows, distracted, I assume.

“Perhaps what?” I sound breathy, like the heroine in a rom-com.

His eyes jerk up to meet mine again, fingers curling under my chin to tilt it upwards.

“Perhaps,” his tongue sweeps across his lips, “perhaps I might kiss you.”

It’s a statement, but there’s so much endearing uncertainty in his tone, it sounds like a question. My brain has ceased all word-forming function for the moment, but I manage to nod once.

And then he’s kissing me.

As uncertain as he’d seemed, I think I expected clacking teeth and squished noses, but it’s not. It’s slow and graceful, his lips soft and warm against mine. It’s just the opposite side of chaste for a moment, but then I feel his hand slide into my hair, pressing our mouths together more firmly as he moans softly.

It’s like mixing Mentos and Diet Coke, or baking soda and vinegar - Pop Rocks and Pepsi. Is that a thing? Whatever, the point I’m making is that one second I was fine and the next I feel combustible. Every nerve ending suddenly shifting into overdrive as my heart thrums against my ribs.

He pulls away just when I feel like my lungs are going to give out. I’m relieved to see his chest heaving rhythmically; I’m not the only one affected so deeply by the kiss. He presses his forehead to mine, a rough laugh punching from his lungs as his entire face lights up. I’ve never seen him smile this broadly.

His hand slides down my arm before clasping my mittened palm.

“Well,” I start, but the brush of something cold and wet against my cheek startles me. Looking up, I realize that large, fluffy snowflakes are just beginning to fall from the sky. Clarence holds out his free hand, a look of soft wonderment brightening his already lovely face as the flakes land on his palm.

Is it possible that I’m actually living in a rom-com and just don’t know it?

“Perfect,” he sighs, his thumb rubbing gently against the wool covering my hand still clasped in his.

“Talk about making a sad song better,” I mutter, tossing my cup in a nearby trash can before sticking out my tongue and tasting the cool white drops.

Clarence tips his head to one side again, an adorable confused expression on his face.

“Nothing.” I wrap my free arm around his, clinging to his side against the rapidly falling snow and sighing contentedly.

“Y/n, would you like to get a cup of coffee with me? I know a nice 24 hour diner nearby,” he grins. “It holds some special memories for me.”

Leaning up, I press a kiss against his cheek, the scruff on his jaw tickling my lips.

“Sounds like a date, Clarence.”

----

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 4 years

Text

The Circle Of Life

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Death doesn't seem so imposing when you know that you're dying--when you realised it a long time ago. Harry's journey as he deals with Cancer. Diary fic. Haphne. IWSC Season 1 Final entry. Hogwarts JP!

Written for the International Wizarding Schools Championship Season 1

Round: Finals!!!

Theme: Dittany which means healing, mentally, emotionally and physically and also injury (as you can't be healed if you're not injured). The theme is shown here as Harry trying his best to recover from cancer.

Year: Year 7

School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. JP from Hogwarts!

Prompts: Potions (object) [additional]

Emerald (colour) [additional]

St. Mungo's (setting) [main]

Special Rule and Link: The special rule here is used by Showing 'birth' both Harry's own birthday, and his grandchild's birth. As for the link, In this fic the link is again Harry's birthday, as we're showing his feelings on his birthdays through different stages of his life, this being the last one. Mentions of infertility.

Word Count: 2190

***

14th January 2060

8:35 p.m.

Diary,

Death doesn't seem so imposing when you know that you're dying—when you realised it a long time ago. It's funny, really. We know we're all dying but rarely does it ever truly sink in. But in my case, I've had the pleasure of having realised this way back at the age of seventeen. I hadn't thought I'd get out of the Forbidden Forest alive again, especially if I were meant to die in the end, and so I had submitted to my sentence. I was as surprised as anyone at my continued living, I assure you, and with the amount of downright stupid things I've done in my lifetime—fighting Voldemort some five different times, riding thestrals, wandering into acromantula nests, and then contemplating becoming an auror before Daphne talked me out of it—I've already outlived my expectations, so I don't think it bothers me too much that death has come to claim me now.

Daphne and Hermione would both glare at me for saying that probably, and Sothis, Jacob, and Lily would frown. Acquiring blood cancer does not necessarily mean death, especially since it's a muggle disease, but at the age of 80, I have my doubts. Wizards might not be as affected by muggle ailments, but this is cancer. It's been nearly ten days since I've written to you, as you might have noticed, and that was because of the numerous tests they conducted and reconducted at St. Mungo's. I've had to quit teaching at Hogwarts because of this accursed illness. Those of my family who haven't had much exposure to the muggle world didn't realise just how serious cancer was, and they were rather unconcerned—it's a muggle disease, wizards always recover from muggle diseases—but Hermione knew exactly what it was, and how serious, and she passed this information to both Ron and Daphne—even when I begged her not to—who told others. So now, everyone is extra polite around me, and extra careful. I hate how everyone looks at me like I might shatter at any moment. Even Malfoy's started acting differently again, and it's just so frustrating!

I just want everyone to get back to normal.

Harry James Potter

***

8th February 2060

8:15 p.m.

Diary,

My health has gotten worse instead of better. Last week, I began coughing violently and realised that I was coughing blood. My body hurt. I also had a temperature and felt dizzy. Daphy took me to St. Mungo's as soon as she saw my pitiful state. I was kept there for a whole day while the healers ran tests and took samples. While the wizarding world doesn't use injections, their methods of extracting blood hurt just as much. The healers only let Daphy see me during around dinnertime after they thought me stable enough. Daphy was by my side the entire night after that, holding my hand, helping me eat, and then finally settling me down for the night. I hadn't seen her that tired in a long time, diary, and it was ... unsettling. I wonder if I'm being too selfish in not really caring if this cursed disease takes me down. Daphne would be shattered.

Hermione and Ron were there at the hospital before I woke up the next day, considerably late and still feeling pretty shitty. The two of them and Daphne were talking to a healer, and none of them had realised I was awake. I could only catch a few phrases of their conversation—flu, immune system, careful—but the grim expressions on their faces told me that whatever it was, it wasn't good. The healers sent me home with instructions to take some fifty odd potions every eight hours and to exercise regularly, but not so much that I overexert myself.

I was too tired the next three days to pick up a pen to write, let alone go for a walk. But yesterday, after Daphy and I got back from the walk she had coaxed me into going for, we came home to a pleasant surprise in the form of Lily and Sebastian. Lily has always been big on surprises, but the one she gave us yesterday was the best surprise I have gotten in a long time. They're expecting their first child in July! After a number of failed tries, Lily and Sebastian had both given up on trying to have children, but that right there was proof that miracles do happen. Daphne was so happy, she had tears in her eyes. So did I. For a moment there, I think all of us present in the room were a little misty-eyed. It took a little effort to digest that bit of news, happy as it was because our sweet little witch had grown so old so fast. Wasn't it just yesterday that I had first held her in my arms? She was finally going to be a mother now! I am happy as can be, of course, but I wonder if I'll be able to live long enough to see my grandchild in this life.

I really hope I do.

Harry James Potter

***

18th March 2060

8:00 p.m.

Diary,

I don't think I'd be able to stand a single more piteous look directed toward me, even if my situation is miserable. I feel tired all the time now, even though I've been taking all my potions on time and have done all the exercises that the healers had told me to do. My body still hurts sometimes, and I feel utterly useless. The healers in St. Mungo's still take samples of my blood to see if my condition is getting any better.

They don't say so to my face, but I'm only getting worse. It is clear by the looks they direct towards me, in how Ron and Hermione both always say goodbye to me at the end of the day as if it were their last goodbye, in how Daphne strokes my cheek at night when we're both in bed and tells me to stay strong for her. I wish they'd just tell me, so I don't have to go through everything pretending to be blissfully unaware.

Sothis and Jacob came to see me today. I hadn't seen them since my birthday last year. Sothis lives in America now with his family and practices as a curse breaker while Jacob has been wandering around the world with Lorcan Lovegood. They were upset when they'd been told of my cancer, of course, but today I truly saw how much my sickness really affected my family. If I had been my old self, I would not have wanted them to see me like this, but times have changed. At least I'm not in St. Mungo's because I wasn't able to fight a common cold.

I really do want to get better.

Harry James Potter

***

21st May 2060

8:40 p.m.

Diary,

Things have begun to look up for me now, and I feel I've gotten a little better for the past few weeks. I don't feel as tired anymore, and Daphy does not have to force me to get out of the house. Daphy could not be happier about this. I've begun working on a book to keep me occupied. This was Hermione's idea—to write a book on Defence Against the Dark Arts from my experience as a professor and what I learnt when I was still studying for it. That I have fought the supreme leader of the dark is an added bonus. I think the one single perk of being sick is that the children come to see me more often. The others came around too, recently—the Weasleys, Neville, Luna. It felt nice to see them all after so long, but it felt a little disconcerting that this might be the last time we saw each other. I suppose that was the reason they made the visit in the first place, to see me again while they still could.

In other news, I am in the news again. The Daily Prophet found out about my illness somehow, and it was all anyone talked about for the last week. Daphy and Hermione both blew up over the staff of St. Mungo's because no one else would ever leak any information to the Prophet of all people. Astoria, who works there, is having the board conduct an entire investigation to find the gossip.

Lily had her first contraction while she was here with us. It was a false alarm, the baby is due in the second week of August, but it felt strange and surreal. Everyone was excited though, Lily especially, even if she complained non-stop about her backache. Things are looking up, finally, and everyone, the healers included, think that I'm going to get better quite soon.

I hope I do.

Harry James Potter

5th July 2060

8:40 p.m.

Diary,

While my health had been stable enough for the past two months and was inching towards recovery, it has now gotten worse again. The healers think that I've been exposed to an infection which my body is not able to fight off. The incessant pain, the omnipresent tiredness have both returned with assorted bottles of potions that taste like sewer water.

I was kept at St. Mungo's for a week, and the healers were still reluctant to let me go home because apparently, my immune system has become so compromised that even the mildest of bacteria or virus could be the cause of my death. It wasn't until Hermione had reasoned with them that I was more likely to be exposed to pathogens—whatever those were—in a hospital than back home that they let me go. I've been told in no uncertain terms to take all my potions on time and to get plenty of rest. The worst part is that I am to avoid the outdoors completely, so no more walks or anything. Daphne looked defeated yet determined.

When they thought I wasn't listening, they also told Daphne and Hermione to keep the visitors to a minimum, so people coming to see me is also out of the question now, although Lily did come here the other day, so I guess the kids are allowed.

I had thought I was getting better, but now ... they don't say it to my face, but their pitiful expressions make it clear that my days now are numbered. I hope I get to see my youngest grandchild before I die, though. They aren't here yet, but I love them already.

Harry James Potter

***

31st July 2060

8:45 p.m.

Diary,

It's my birthday today, but so much has changed since last year. I was teaching at Hogwarts happily. People weren't scared of sneezing around me. I was cancer free. But most importantly, I didn't have a new grandson who looked exactly like me. His eyes are the same emerald green as mine, and he has a small tuft of jet-black hair, although I really hope he has better luck with it than I have had.

From what Daphy tells me, Lily had been visiting when her water broke. I don't know the exact details of what happened since I had been in St. Mungo's since the past week, but everyone panicked except Daphne, who had gone home for a while to shower and eat after leaving me in Hermione's care. She calmly called for a mediwitch from St. Mungo's and made preparations to transport Lily to the hospital for the delivery.

The baby was two weeks early, but still very healthy. He had curious green eyes, and the memory of how he looked at me with interest when I first held him is still fresh in my mind. I did finally get to meet my grandchild—Lily's first child—and I couldn't possibly be happier. If I were to die now, after I've seen my grandchild, I'd die happy. My princess had finally started a family of her own, and the baby looks just like me. He's a tiny and beautiful baby, and I am so proud. Lily and Sebastian are both beaming. They named him after me and Sebastian's father—Harry Alex Grahams.

I love him.

Harry James Potter

***

Daphne closed the diary shut on the morning of August the 2nd with tears rolling down her eyes. She put it beside her on the padded carpet she was sitting on and drew her knees closer to her. Harry had to go, leave, just as Lily's first child was born, just as he had turned 81. It was painfully sad. Lily had cried through the last night, and it had taken Daphne all she had in her to not join her in it and to comfort her instead. She took in a deep breath. Harry was right, though. The child was beautiful and looked painfully like him. At least she knew that he had died painlessly in his sleep. Happy. Content. His suffering had ended, and he had had the joy of holding his grandson in his arms. He had been happy. That was all that mattered.

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Note

A sequel to A12+A32 with Brian where maybe they didn’t actually break up and she stays with him even though he’s married and maybe he actually leaves his wife for her?

A12 + A32 Blurb

1000 Follower Celebration

~~~

After the fight Brian had left quickly, slamming the door behind him, tyres screeching as he took off, leaving you standing in the same spot you’d confronted him. You don’t know how long you stood there, trying to process everything. The rest of the day was spent in a daze. It was like so much had happened that you couldn’t take it all in, couldn’t feel anything. You wanted to cry or scream or throw things but didn’t have the energy. Everything was just numb as you went about your day. Until you were lying in bed that night and it all hit in a big rush. Your sleep was fitful and disjointed. An hour here, half an hour there, snatched between dreams of Brian and bouts of crying.

When you did push yourself out of bed you went straight for your phone, calling up your friend Jasmine. You’d spent countless nights with her, discussing your relationships, lamenting lost loves or celebrating newfound singledom. She knew all about Brian already, so if anyone was going to share your heartbreak at the revelation of his family, it would be her. She arrived within ten minutes, pulling you into a hug the moment she saw your puffy eyes. You told her everything – the ring, the wife, the kids. She got every detail of the fight you’d had, listening carefully, never interrupting. And then you told her the worst part of it. Worse than the insincere apology, or the way he’d spat his parting line before disappearing out the door. Worse than all of that was the fact that you still loved him, missed him, wanted him back.

“Maybe you’re being too harsh on him,” Jasmine suggested, “yes, what he did was shitty and he should have been more upfront about his situation but from the sound of things he isn’t happy at home. But he was happy with you. And you were happy with him.”

You were stunned, “So you think I should forgive him? He’s cheating on his wife, abandoning his kids. And he’s made me an accomplice to it all. And I should forgive him?”

“Not necessarily. I just think you should talk to him properly about it. The fight happened because you were both caught up in the emotion of it all. You were taken by surprise and you lashed out. I think you both probably said some things you didn’t mean. ANd he certainly didn’t get a chance to explain himself.”

“I guess,”

“Look just, I don’t know, meet him for coffee or something. Do it in public if you want. But you’re going to find it very hard to get closure or move on if you don’t know the full story. Give him a chance to explain, tell him why you feel so sick about it. Either he’ll have more to say or he won’t but however the conversation goes, you’ll know what you need to do.”

“I’ll think about it,”

You did think about it. Nearly constantly. You picked up the phone, got half way through dialling his number and then hung up more times than you could count. Part of you wanted to hear him out, see him again. But there was also the fear that he wouldn’t have anything else to say, that nothing would change how horrid you felt about the whole mess, that you were just setting yourself up for more heartbreak. The decision was made for you though a few days later when Brian called.

“Hi,” his voice sounded odd. A little strained, like he was making an effort to stay calm, “I know you don’t want to see me and I’m sorry for calling but I’ve left a few things at your place. Wanted to know if I could pick them up sometime,”

“Oh, umm,”

“I’m happy to come past when you aren’t home, if you just leave them outside the back door or something.”

“I can do that. Or...” your heart was hammering in your chest but you knew what you wanted, hearing his voice wasn’t enough, “maybe you could stay for a coffee?”

“Coffee? Are you sure?”

“Yes. I feel bad about how things ended and I don’t think I was very fare to you,”

“I deserved it. I shouldn’t have...”

“You shouldn’t have, no, but I’d still like to talk about it. If you’re okay with that?”

“Are you free this afternoon? I can come by around three,”

“Three works for me,”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,”

If you’d been nervous to call it was nothing to how nervous you felt waiting for him to arrive. The clock moved so slowly you were sure it was broken. Everything felt too still and quiet, the calm before a storm, the tapping of your nails against whatever surface was in easy reach the only break. His knock on the door startled you, making you freeze on the spot until he knocked a second time and you gathered yourself together enough to answer.

“Hi,” he said softly, a small, nervous smile playing on his lips when he saw you.

“Hi, come in,” you stood back from the door to let him past, “umm, d’you want tea or coffee?”

“Tea’s fine, thank you,”

With a nod you led him to the kitchen. He knew the way, knew where you kept the tea bags and cups, but he followed you as if he didn’t. Neither of you spoke again until the tea was set in front of you at the kitchen table. Your fingers began tapping against the table top again and you wished your hands were still busy with the tea.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Brian eventually asked.

“Why, Bri? Why’d you lie to me?”

“I should have told you sooner, I know. The thing was that when we started seeing each other I didn’t think it would last that long,”

“So you really thought I was gonna be a one-night stand?”

“Yeah I did. Maybe a few nights at most. I thought anything more than that would be too complicated with everything else. But then I just kept wanting to see you and...”

“And what?”

He frowned a little as he contemplated what to say, “I am not a brave man, Y/N. I’m a coward. I’ve been afraid of ending things for good with my wife. We should have called it quits years ago, before the kids, but she’s stubborn and I’m weak and I guess I wanted to believe things could be fixed. That maybe kids would help fix them. And then you came along and took me completely by surprise. After we’d been seeing each other for a couple of weeks I knew I should tell you about it all. But I was afraid that as soon as you knew you’d leave and I was too much of a coward to go through with it. So I decided to never tell you. I went home and talked to my wife and we came to a decision to break up but it was hard. There were the kids to think of, one not even born yet. There were assets to split, a house to sell, arrangements to make. Plus, the extra pressure from the press potentially getting a hold of the story. It was a lot and I was in the process of working everything out when you found my ring.”

“I don’t think it’s weak to want to fix things,” you said softly, holding your cup tight, “But you understand why I was so upset right?”

“I know, it was horrible what I did and I regret all of it, not being straight with you. I deserved a lot worse than what you gave me. You should’ve hit me or something.”

“Did you mean what you said about seeing a future with me?”

“I did. I know my life is a mess at the moment but being apart from you has been so hard. I guess I thought things would work out. The divorce would go through and then we could have moved in together and... but that’s not realistic is it?”

“I don’t know Brian. The day I found out I was completely crushed. I never wanted to see you again. I thought if I did it’d just end in more screaming and crying. But I’ve missed you so much. All I’ve thought about since you left was trying to find a solution for it all. I called Jas over to try and talk some sense into me and she told me to give you a chance to explain.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Depends. What’s happening between you and your wife?”

“We had a meeting with our lawyers yesterday, going over the paperwork and stuff. We’ve had to make custody arrangements for when I can see the kids and the house hasn’t sold yet but it’s mostly finalised.”

“If, and it’s a big if, but if we did work things out, how would the custody arrangements work?”

“You wouldn’t have to be their step mum or anything. They’ll mostly be staying with their mum, at least until they’re a little older. But I’ll go round and visit them every week. I wouldn’t ask you to be involved with them at all.”

You nodded, “that makes sense. And there’s no other big earth shattering secrets you’re keeping? No secret family in another country?”

,”No, that’s it,” Brian looked at you, his eyes glued to your face like he ran the risk of losing you again just by blinking.

You sighed and reached your hand out to lay over his, “I really really missed you.”

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