#& it keeps hurting more bc we had shit to hold onto but they were ripped away from us | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kashimos-hajime · 4 years ago

Text

definition of a good boy | a.a.

summary: literally you just peg the FUCK out of armin arlert. that’s it. and he looks real fucking pretty taking it.

WARNINGS: smut (18+), switch!reader (but majority femdom), switch!armin (majority sub <3), PEGGING, edging, anal fingering ahgnfkld, safe word (not used), oral (fem-receiving), overstim, praise kink, minor dacryphilia bc that shit HITS pairing: armin arlert x fem!reader word count: 3.7k

a/n: if armin no like peg, why he look like THAT last episode? ANYWAY this is who i represent now. just,,, pegging men and making them cry

crossposted on ao3

You wonder how many times Armin’s thought about this before. Or even, the first time at least.

Was it when you rode him until he was crying for relief, your hands around his throat and your lips ravaging his own? Or maybe that time you had riled him up until he had you pinned in an alleyway just outside a fucking embassy, panties swept aside by the crook of his fingers and cock sheathed inside your wet folds as you cried out into his shoulder.

Which in itself was a feat. It’s probably the most difficult thing in the world to irritate Armin Arlert to the point where he wants to fuck the attitude out of you, and it had started with a dress that had a slit up to your thigh, and you tugging at his tie in the middle of his conversations, and ended with bruised collarbones, jelly legs, and fucking Connie texting you, WOW GOOD JOB!!!!! SASHA OWES ME TWENTY.

But you digress. You could probably pinpoint a million times he’s thought about it, a million times more when you have. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that Armin Arlert is laid out right in front of you, flushed, sweating, eyes closed shut and mouth shamelessly open as you jack him off. His cheeks are red, the blush spreading down his neck and chest, but nothing compares to the shade of his lips as you swallow down his moan, tongue dipping into his mouth. Your other hand pins down his shoulder as he lets out a soft whine, and you smile, drawing back just as quickly as you came.

“You look so pretty, baby,” you whisper, brushing the hair fanning across his forehead back. The golden strands glimmer in the warm light of their room as Armin lets out another strangled noise when you squeeze the tip of his cock, the precum warm underneath your palm. “You think you’re ready?”

“Yeah.” His hands are on your back, fingers scratching the skin and sending shivers down your spine, yet now, one travels to the back of your neck and pulls you down for another deep kiss. Their mouths meet messily and his other hand trails down to your hips, your thighs by his waist, and squeezes. “I’m ready. I trust you.”

Pulling back, your gut clenches and you wish you’d taken up his offer to ride the edge off on his thigh, but you’d been so excited that you had refused. Now, nervous energy mixes with the heady arousal surrounding them you pull off of him, fingers giving one last pump to his hard cock. Sitting aside with the lube, you watch as Armin rolls over, revealing a muscled back ripe with tension and you immediately crawl over to him.

“Tense?”

“Nervous, yeah.” His fingers dig into the bedsheets as you place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. His blond hair tickles the apple of your cheek and you situate yourself right over him. Squeezing a sizeable amount of lube onto your pointer and third finger, you smear it down to your base knuckles and glance at Armin again. His cheek is pressed against the mattress, his sedated face betraying the hunger in those blue eyes. His hips twitch against the blankets almost imperceptibly but you let it slide—they both need a moment to just…

“Safe word?” you ask.

“Conch,” he replies dutifully. “Don’t worry so much or I’ll start to worry.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you or for you to hate this.”

“The most important thing is that we tried it, alright?” He reaches back to grab your hand, and you look down at his fingers wrapping around your wrist. Twisting to hold onto him, you kiss his fingers before he lets go, resumes the slow grind against the mattress and you watch, transfixed at the rolls of his hips. Reminded of the slick glistening down your thighs, you clench your legs together as a soft moan is muffled by Armin’s face buried in the sheets. His knuckles are white as his thrusts grow frantic, but they both know that nothing on this bed is enough friction for what they both want.

Too many nights with disappointing outcomes have taught them better—silk is good for hair and skin only, it seems.

“On your knees,” you murmur, and he freezes, face turning slowly to reveal blissed out face and a panting mouth. Stomach fluttering at how obedient he is, you situate yourself right behind him as he rises to his knees and elbows and you spot the wet stain where his precum had soaked into the sheets. Smiling, you rise up on your knees, lean over, and kiss his spine, settling a hand on the small of his back. “Relax, baby.”

Your fingers slip between his cheeks and rub along the hole, the heat emanating from his skin incinerating. Gently, you sink your fingers in and he lets out a choked noise at the stretching as you scissor slowly to give him time to get used to the burning. His fingers sink into the mattress, claw-like, and his back tenses up but you lean forward, running a soothing hand between his shoulder blades.

“Are you okay, baby?” you whisper, the resistance making you pause so he can get used to it. He lifts his head, gasping before nodding to the wall.

“I’m okay.” Forehead to the sheets again. “Keep going.”

Kissing his hip, you nod and push forward as your hand on his back spreads out, and you feel the moment he relaxes because something inside him eases, too. Your fingers sink in despite how tight it is, near-choking as his legs twitch against your thighs. You watch the back of his head keenly, catch the speedy rise and fall of his shoulders as you slowly draw your fingers in and out, getting him used to the sensation.

Tiny sounds escape his mouth as he rests his cheek against the bed, his sharp gasps whenever you push in deeper than before music to your ears and to the growing drip of arousal between your legs.

It’s when Armin’s legs shoot out from underneath him, his whole body collapsing and a loud moan comes out of him that you really snap awake. Your hand ripped out from between his asscheeks, you jump back, eyes widening in fear and you crawl up so you can spot his face. His eyes are wide enough that you can see a ring of white around his blue, blue eyes, and he’s coated in a fine layer of sweat over his pink cheeks. A hand is slapped over his mouth and you hear his raspy pants through his nose, desperate and rapid as you lower yourself to his eye level.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” you ask but he lifts a wet hand from his mouth, and you watch slowly as he grabs your wrist tightly. Lube from your fingers drips onto your hand as he yanks you close.

“Why’d you stop?” he groans. “If that’s how it feels every time I hit your g-spot, I wish we started this sooner.”

Electricity zaps through your chest and your lips pull into an incredulous smile as he lets go of your wrist and cups your neck, pulling you down into an open-mouthed kiss and you moan into his mouth as he pushes himself up onto an arm, tongue exploring your cheeks, his hand sliding down your back. It’s decidedly slow, unpretentious, intimate, and you remind yourself that there’s still a task at hand, no matter how persuading Armin can be with his eyes, hands, tongue, or otherwise.

Parting, your heart pounds like a damned drum as he squeezes your ass but you pluck his hand off of you, pushing him back down onto all fours.

“Elbows and knees, Arlert. I’m not finished with you yet,” you murmur and you see the shiver in his body at the idea. He does as he’s told, lowering himself until his face is against the mattress and his ass is up in the air, and you migrate to his end again, through the molasses air until you’re where you were before.

A hand on the small of his back, you ease your fingers in again, and this time, when he lets out a sharp whine, you know not to give up but to give in, push against the spongey flesh at your fingers that sends his hips jolting back into your palm. Peering at a pretty blond head, you frown when you see his palm has found its place over his mouth again and without thinking, your hand on his back trails to his ass, giving it a light slap before squeezing the flesh.

“Let me hear you, pretty boy,” you croon as his back arches with a choked ah! that fills your stomach with butterflies. Pushing down on his spine, with every whine, moan, desperate more, every pleading deeper, baby, you reward him with another thrust of your fingers that makes Armin writhe with pleasure you can feel everywhere in his body. Heat licking at your own face, you get so lost in the rocking of his hips, the sheets twisting under Armin’s fists as he tries to chase his own high, that you nearly miss the signs of his coming orgasm.

Classic: he starts swearing like a sailor.

“Fuck—hngh!—C’mon, baby. Come on. I’m so close.”

And the panting that’s so noticeably heavy and fast that it’s a wonder he can even breathe with how much he’s begging and squirming by the pressure of your fingers alone.

Those two things echo in your head as you pull your fingers out just as he stands on the brink of his eyes rolling back from the black-out euphoria he must’ve been on the edge on because when you stop, he lets out the loudest fucking curse you’ve ever heard in your life.

No, fuck! Baby!” His whines are music to your ear as he buries his face in the silk. “Baby, I was so fucking close! You, you—“

“I? I?” you tease, a thrill igniting underneath your heart at how he sweats and arches underneath your hand. “You’re just so pretty for me all needy, Armin. Not every night I get to edge you.”

“It could be,” he pleads, his hips lowering to the mattress again as he reaches forward for a pillow to shove between his legs but you smack the hand away as you stretch for the nightstand. “Baby, just let me cum. Let me cum and I’ll let you edge me every night. Please, please, please—“

“Armin,” you censure, although the words are enticing and you know if you brought it up to him outside the bedroom tomorrow morning, he’d blush and have to accept his own vow. But you’re not that cruel. “When have you ever given in to my pleading?”

Maybe you’re worse. You don’t mind that at all.

“Sometimes, I do. When you’ve been a good girl.” His hips begin to rub against the silk sheets as you grab the strap-on and buckle it up comfortably around your hips. Armin’s oblivious to it all and you let him have his moment of faux relief, pretending you don’t notice. He’s going to need the breather after you’re done with him. “And I’ve been good. I swear it.”

“Really?” Grabbing the lube bottle that’s been lost in the sheets, you squirt a hefty amount all over the silicone and run your hand up and down the shaft, warming it up. “I don’t think trying to fuck yourself on silk sheets like you’re a prince without a whore is going to help you much now is it, hm?”

His hips freeze and you chuckle to yourself, the power trip making you dizzy as you hum appreciatively and lean over him, the tip of the strap leaving a wet trail from between his cheeks down his spine. Your lips find the knob of his spine, mouthing at it warmly as his entire body goes taut and you reach blond hair, nosing it away and sucking a mark onto his neck. He lets out a soft moan, lifting his head and reaching up a hand to wrap around the back of your neck.

Bracing yourself, you smile and find the sensitive spot right underneath his jaw, biting gently.

“Armin,” you whisper huskily against the shell of his ear, nose drawing along his temple. “What’s that again about being a good boy?” You return your mouth to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, grinning wickedly when his back arches and he lets out a helpless whine. Inhaling the smell of clean soap, you crane your head to look down between your bodies. He’s laid out bare in front of you, and you wiggle your hips, nestling the strap back between his ass cheeks, just to get him used to the sensation.

Tearing yourself away and back up, you cup his thighs and pull him back up to his knees.

“Anyway,” you continue, as if remarking on the weather, “I don’t know if you do deserve this anymore. Seeing as if every time I stopped touching you, you’ve gone to rutting the bed like I wouldn’t notice.” The tip presses against his hole and you feel his shiver. You tilt your head. “Nothing to say now, huh.”

“No, no, please. Fuck! I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I won’t do it again. I promise. I really promise, baby.”

“Right.” You don’t believe him, but nonetheless, you smile. “Why don’t you prove it and relax?” A soft noise keening from his mouth, he nods and lowers himself deeper. Counting silently to yourself, you wait until he gets comfortable.

When he does, you set a hand on his hip, another on his back, and slowly push in.

“Ah!” His head snaps up, knuckles blanching as he grasps the sheets. Breathing quickening, he stiffens but you hush him quietly, stroking soothing shapes into his skin. You slowly ease out again and he exhales. A heat sears through your chest and the urge to slip your fingers in, to push against the spongey part again until he’s begging, not for you to stop or for you to continue, but just crying begging for you, causes you to groan to yourself.

“You don’t know how pretty you look all like this, Armin,” you murmur as he shifts back and you laugh gently. “You really want this, hm?” You push back in gently, and it goes easier this time. Your hips nearly press flush against his skin as he lets out a choked noise. “Lemme hear you, yeah? God, I wanna hear you so bad, baby.”

“Hngh! Ah—“ You draw back only to sink back in again, bottoming out and you know you hit it when his elbows slide out from under him, cheek against the bed. You pause, tip pressing against the prostate until he’s blabbering, voice going raw with desperation. “Baby! Baby, baby, baby, oh God—“

Guts tightening, you bite your lip, trying to hold back your own moan as he tries to jerk back.

“You want me to move, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, please. Please, please, please.” His hand claws at his face, caging his mouth but doing nothing to muffle any of his noise as you push harder. His eyes roll back and you smirk, pulling back. “Baby!”

“Alright, alright. Since you asked so nicely.” And you sink into him, faster this time, hitting your mark so easily that when his moans arise, it’s only incentive for you to continue thrusting, your movements sloppy but quick. Hips against his ass, your fingers dig into his hips as he begins to rock back against you, settling into an unsteady rhythm only they can begin to understand.

You watch in delicious satisfaction as Armin falls apart, raising his ass higher, sinking deeper into his chest. A soft whine rises with every movement as he gasps out, “Harder,” and you nearly fucking lose yourself in the high-pitched rasp in his voice. His voice begins to thicken when you listen, and you catch sight of his cheek, glistening with tears.

“You close, baby?” you pant at the sight. Fuck, he’s so fucking pretty; it’s otherwordly. Your hips beginning to tire, the smack and slide of their skin the only other thing you can feel besides how hard and tight he is as he nods, red lip trapped between teeth. “Yeah? You’re doing so well, you know? God, I’m so proud of you.” He lets out a whiny mhm! A harsh throbbing between your legs, you squeeze his hips. “C’mon, baby. C’mon. You’re so pretty. Pretty boy crying for me.”

“God, I love you,” he cries out, body beginning to shake as his breath hitches in his throat sharply like a ragged gasp after nearly drowning. “I love you so much. Please, let me cum. I wanna be good. Lemme be good for you.”

Lurching forward, you plunge as deep as you can into him and he lets out a hoarse wail as you sink your teeth into his side, at his ribs. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him flush against yourself and he shudders, head raised as he claws at the sheets, riding off his own orgasm on your strap, shamelessly, with reckless abandon and you press your face into his shoulder blade, rocking with his moves.

Soft, airy moans fill the silence as he stubbornly tries to keep going as he falls back on his knees, in some yoga pose you can’t remember the name of, and you draw yourself back up, shallowly rolling your hips against his until he’s crying into his arm, ears red, cheeks red, everything red and warm and slick.

Sighing, you finally pull out and he lets out a whimper at the loss. Sitting back on your ankles, you begin to unbuckle the strap, climbing over his shaking leg to grab the towel on their nightstand. Wiping off the lube and juices from the silicone, you glance over your shoulder at your dazed boyfriend, and a soft smile pulls at your mouth as he tries to catch his breath. Back rising and falling, he wipes at his face and you chuckle, abandoning your cleaning efforts to crawl over to his face. Leaning down to kiss his cheek, you hum.

“Pretty baby,” you murmur as his blue eyes rake over your face, down your body covered in a fine layer of sweat. You lay down beside him, mirroring his position so you’re on your stomach, chest resting on your forearm. Your other hand lifts, fingers brushing through hair that falls over his eyes lazily. His irises are still blown out with lust, the residual pleasure still occupying his face in how lax his face is, how he barely keeps his eyes open. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” His voice is nothing more than a mumble as he turns to plug his eyes with his forearm and you laugh, scooting closer to kiss his ear. “I dunno if I can walk tomorrow, though.”

“I did go a bit hard on you, didn’t I?”

“’S okay. I asked for it.” He lifts his head with a cold breath, and he looks at you again. “I wanted it. So badly. You did so good, baby.”

“A-Armin—“ His name is swallowed up by his lips and you let out a noise of surprise as he cups the back of your neck. Pushing you onto your back, he deepens the kiss and their legs tangle up as his other hand runs down your side. A soft moan spills out of your mouth into his as he trails inward, exploring the slick pooling down your legs. Without a second to waste, he sinks a finger in easily to the first knuckle, curling sinfully and your legs spasm against his.

“Maybe you liked it more than me,” he hums, lifting his mouth from yours. Before you can refute that claim, he’s travelling down your body, free hand adoring every single curve and line. You let out a small protest as he slips his finger out but it’s almost instantly replaced by his mouth suctioning onto your cunt. Heat splinters through your body and your legs wrap around his head immediately.

“Fuck, Armin,” you sigh, hands buried under the pillow above your head as he laps at your slit and when you raise your head to see him peering back, you groan at the sheen covering his chin and lips. His eyes are still blown out, darkened with lust, and he dips his mouth again as the coil inside you tightens and just seeing him beneath you again has your eyes rolling back. His hand squeezes your thigh as your breath hitches and you feel it coming, harsh, white, and hot.

Chest blistering tight, your eyes flutter shut and your fingers scrape at silk as your hips rut against his face. You’re so fucking close—fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Armin!” You let out a hoarse scream as he slams a hand over your mouth and your back arches as his other hand presses your hips down. Eyes rolling back, your hands wrap around his wrist as he sucks on your clit, massages you through the crashing waves that run through your body. Legs trembling, you try to move away but he only huffs a laugh, kissing your slit before licking a stripe up. The overstimulation makes you whine, shaking as he continues to tease you out, drinking you, eating you as if you’re his last meal on death row.

His name spills out of your mouth in shameless babbles, praises about how good he is for you coming out raw as you try to catch your breath but he won’t let you. Not even for a second.

Armin only breathes you in—hums against your soaked thighs, biting gently on the flesh, and your hands fly to your face, one over your mouth, another over your eyes as a helpless, incoherent plea spills out of you. You feel the smirk in his cheeks as he pushes himself closer and your hips nearly lift but he pulls you back down to the bed, chuckling.

“Am I good boy now?” he asks huskily against your cunt. Shivers shoot up your spine and he inhales deeply, squeezing your thighs like he’s never seen something so fuckable. “Or do I need to prove it to you again?”

3K notes · View notes

dashielldeveron · 4 years ago

Text

and i’ve gotta crow | takami keigo

hawks x pro-hero! reader. quirk unspecified.

summary: “You’re suffering from amnesia,” says Hawks to you, in your hospital bed.

No, you are not.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

No, you are not.

After an accident that was that bastard Hawks’s fault, you decide to play along with your diagnosis of amnesia, among other things, because how far can you make your former bully bend over backwards for you?

fluff/trickery??? completely avoidable angst, bc reader is a little shit. hawks is a scumbag bully at first. reader is honestly kind of violent. dealing with acne in a scene.

When the first things you saw after groggily blinking your eyes open were multiple IVs in the back of your hand, you flipped over and snuggled farther into your hospital bed to deal with it later, but against your will you were forced to lie flat on your back to stare into the hospital fluorescents.

When the nurse fiddling with your IVs came into focus, he said, “You need to lie on your back. You have deep gashes on your lower abdomen, and tossing about too much could open the stitches.”

That sounded like bullshit, but you were too out of it to care. “Yeah, okay,” you said through a croak, “Oh, fuck.” You wrestled a hand to your throat, massaging it. “Am I waking up from a coma? Don’t let anyone see me until I’ve done my eyebrows.”

The nurse laughed through his nose. “No, don’t worry. You’ve barely been—” He cut himself off and frowned. “The news should probably be broken to you when you have emotional support. I’ll be back soon.”

He left.

Emotional support? Wouldn’t that fucking gash on your stomach be—ooh, ouch, don’t move.

Where’s your phone? Where’s your goddamn phone; where’s any of your personal belongings? If they got crushed, you’re killing Hawks on sight.

Hawks, oh, my God. Where is he? He’s dead. If he still has the audacity to bully you professionally—fuck.

He’d cornered you on patrol earlier—whenever that was—and cut into you in that casually, negging-type way that wasn’t enough to report but enough to make you stay up late and freak out about being good enough. It hurt your chest whenever you thought about it.

But this was the first time he’d gotten seriously physical.

He’d alit on the top of the warehouse next to you, landing what would have been haphazardly for anyone else (the arch of his feet against the edge, his toes barely touching roof) and had crouched next to you, his scarlet wings completely blowing your cover as they stretched and shuddered.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of town?” Hawks had propped his chin on both his fists. “Thought shoplifters were more your calibre.”

“Hawks, this is actually really important to me, so please, please leave,” you’d said, keeping your eyes on the group you could barely make out through the skylight. They’d already been partially concealed by crates, so they were hard to see.

“Someone else give you a tip for their location?” He’d tapped your opposite shoulder with the end of his wing, but you hadn’t even flinched.

“Bruh, you know I’ve been on this for weeks,” you’d said, shifting away from him, “I even shared intel at your last briefing.”

“Is that what you were talking about?” Hawks had scratched his chin. “I zoned out. Usually the little cases female heroes present aren’t in my circle, and I like to unwind when brain power isn’t needed.”

You’d planned to rip his wings out feather by feather while you’d gritted your teeth. “You can’t talk to me like that, Hawks.”

He’d laughed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “C’mon, babygirl, have a slice of chill, won’t you? I thought you were one of the cool girls. Relax. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Leave me alone, Hawks. You’re not gonna bully me into joining your agency. You’re not gonna bully me into quitting being a hero,” you’d said, inwardly screaming, “I’d tell you to go talk to someone who’d fall for your shit, but then, she’d have to suffer, too. So, fuck off into a sewer, jackass.”

“Oof,” Hawks had said, placing a hand over his heart and shaking his head, “You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart. I’m only looking for my better half. Didn’t think it could be you, but I’d thought I’d give you a chance to prove me wrong. Don’t take yourself too seriously; just be along for the ride like the rest of us.”

“Huh,” you had said, and you’d stood and strode to the edge of the warehouse to your harness and rope, and you rappelled down the side of it as stealthily as you came up.

“I’ve been watching you all these years, sweetness, and I know you by now; I know how you really feel,” Hawks had said a bit too loudly while he flew downwards at your speed (braggart). “Strip away all of your busy work, your so-called hero trappings, and we’d mesh together just fine. We may be rough around the edges, but we clean up really nicely, don’t we?”

You’d unclipped your carabiner and stepped out of your harness, stashing it in your pack. “Fuck off.”

You’d moved towards the back entrance, but Hawks had slammed a hand against the concrete wall in front of you. You’d ducked under it and carried on, and he’d grabbed the back of your shirt.

“C’mon, if we didn’t know each other, and our eyes met from across the room at some hero gala, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?”

You had swiped his hand away. “I’d be putting a lid on my drink.”

His arms behind his back, Hawks had followed you through the door and behind the exposed pipes and closer to your targets. “Saw you coming onto Todoroki at the last one. You looked fine in his colours, but you would’ve looked better in mine.”

Don’t grace him with an answer; don’t grace him with an ans— “I wasn’t coming onto Shoto,” you’d said, pulling yourself up a couple of pipes for a better view—and you’d hit him when he flapped his wings to hover the few feet you’d ascended, because the noise might alert them.

“Yeah, you just simp for him, right? Then you didn’t step outside your comfortable ice queen act?” Hawks had gripped onto a pipe just underneath your ass. “You’re too much of a natural tease for that.”

How can you report him when he’s the head of his own agency? You guess the commission might listen, but what can they do besides slap his wrist? There’s really no one who can stop him, is there?

You hadn’t replied but instead crawled onto the iron catwalk. If you could position yourself about three-quarters of the way across, you’d be able to effectively activate your quirk and get this over with—wait, why would you think like that? You’d been waiting for this for ages.

A hand spreading across the small of your back had reminded you.

You’d flipped over with fire in your eyes and kicked him away as quietly as you could, but all he’d done was sit back on his knees to grin down at you, army-crawling your way through a dirty warehouse.

Would he take credit for your work again?

You’d shaken yourself. Eat my entire ass, Hawks. And with that, you’d continued inching towards your targets. When you’d gotten into position to watch them, Hawks had merely watched you.

You had scowled. “I’m gonna tear you a—”

“You had a hard childhood, didn’t you?”

A chill had unfurled up your spine, simple as that. Hawks now not only had the annoying air of an arrogant pick-up artist but also gave you an intense sense of danger. You’d moved away from him, regrettably away from your target, but Hawks had followed you, getting closer until his body heat had seeped into yours, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his dumb face.

“I could take suuuuch good care of you, little girl,” he’d said under his breath, “if only you’d let me. No one else is crazy enough to call me out or want more than the bare minimum.” His wings had folded in on his back, making themselves as small as possible to get closer to you. “If you give in, tell me yes, say please, you wouldn’t have to let any worries cross your pretty little mind. All you have to do is let me in.”

“Yikes,” you had said, sucking in through your teeth, “God, you’re a creep.”

Hawks had slammed you down onto the catwalk, iron reverberating through the warehouse as it struck your head, and your targets had looked up by the time the catwalk hinges had loosened and had come crashing down in the midst of their meeting.

You’re really not supposed to shoot guns inside. Don’t they know that’ll ruin their ears? No matter, really. You had fought them anyway, amidst crates splintering open from whatever they were shooting at you—fuck, that was a big hole. What’s oozing out of that? Gross, don’t step in it.

One with a normal revolver—his arm had given a woody crack when you’d bent it backwards—God, that was nice. Good sounds. If you could sample them into a rap track, you would.

You’d been planning a collab with a popular rapper while you’d hurled yourself at another villain, sawdust flying—just to keep your mind busy, really, but fucking—fucking Hawks had bested whoever he’d half-assed to the ground and had shouted your way.

“C’mere, you little shit—”

He’d scooped you up while you’d been taking care of it by yourself, and he had pinned you down behind a stack of crates that reached the remains of the catwalk, straddling you but keeping most of his weight off, his wings outstretched yet still hidden from the cloud of sawdust rising with deep gurgling on the far side.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he’d said over the chaos, spit flying, “You can’t handle this; you’re gonna get fucking killed. I can’t babysit you all the time.”

“Get fucked; I’m the number fourteen hero,” you’d said, deadly still, but twitching in fury, “I can handle anyth—”

“Aww, fourteen. And one day babygirl might reach the single digits.” Hawks had sneered in your face. “If she manages to fuck her way through them.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you pretended to cough on sawdust and kicked him off in the confusion. Hawks had grabbed a hold of your calf, grappling for your thigh, while you’d scrambled to climb over crates to the gurgling mess on the other side; you could handle it, and you would.

You’d slapped his hands away, wrestled out of his grasp again and again, and you’d launched yourself into the dust—

Yeah.

While the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, you picked at a hangnail. You hadn’t braced yourself for the explosion, so, you guessed you deserved whatever was wrong with you now. Big-ass gashes on your stomach. Probably broken ribs. Something felt off in your left leg, besides—oh, ho, what had the doctors thought when they’d seen Hawks’s scratches?

What an idiot.

When the door creaked open, the nurse returned with a mug of water for you, but—what? Who’s that bitch following him?

You blinked, twice. With his hands in his pockets and his nasty little wings tucked in behind him, Hawks meandered to your bedside, his gaze on your throat as you swallowed down water.

God, you’re too tired to deal with him. Let’s get this over with.

The nurse glanced over his clipboard. “I’ve already told your partner this, but I thought you would want him here.”

Maybe if you ignore Hawks, he’ll leave.

“You were very brave today,” said the nurse, “Your work as a hero is greatly appreciated. You’re on temporary leave to heal, though. Like I said, you’ve got three, major gashes on your stomach, and your leg’s broken—the fibula split, if you want to know. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You have four broken ribs, and—” The nurse bit his lip and softened his voice. “You hit your head pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, but you should have amnesia, with the trauma you’ve endured.”

Should have? They don’t know? You sure as hell don’t fucking have amnesia. It barely happens in real life, and it definitely hasn’t happened to you. You remembered every fucking infuriating thing Hawks did to ruin your mission, and if he doesn’t square up—

“I’m so sorry, baby,” said Hawks, grabbing your hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb, and then he took his glove off to hold you skin-to-skin. “You remember who I am?”

You just stared at him.

“Your fiancé’s been a real presence in the waiting room,” said the nurse, “He hardly stopped pacing the entire time you were in surgery. He wouldn’t even talk to fans.”

Oh, my God.

Holy fucking shit.

“Oops, sorry,” said the nurse, covering his mouth, “I know you were keeping it a secret. Don’t blame him, please; he only told me to be able to see you immediately.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep, deep breath. You have been handed a golden opportunity on a fucking Hawks-shaped platter, holy fuck, and by God are you going to take advantage of it. Imagine how much you can fucking humiliate him, how far you can take it. How much you can make him pay for how he treated you, and now, if he says he’s your fiancé, then he’s gonna fucking worship you. You’re going to mould him into your little bitch, and he’s going to thank you for it. And you’ll get endless dirt on him just by seeing his place.

Don’t fuck this up.

Exhaling, you opened your eyes, blinking a bit. You curled your lips into your mouth, biting the lower one. “I remember you’re Hawks,” you said in a nervous voice, “and I remember, uh.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Hawks squeezed your hand, his tone kind. “It’ll come back in time.”

You clutched Hawks’s hand while the nurse rattled off instructions and gave you your crutches, and Hawks squeezed your hand back, softly smiling at you.

When the nurse left, you turned to Hawks and said, “I’m so, so sorry, but I—I feel like there’s something big missing that I can’t remember.” You scratched your forehead with your free hand, dragging the IVs with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hawks tilted his head, still gazing decidedly down at you.

“Oh, God,” you said, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Um.” Take it back. Take it way back. That way he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. The more lies he has to create, the funnier it’ll be. “Let’s see, I, hm.” You already weren’t speaking like yourself, but you looked upward as you faked combing through memories. “I don’t know how things work chronologically, but the most recent memory I have of you is—it’s after a press conference, and I’ve never been in the building before,” you said slowly, “And I can’t find the bathroom, but some press keeps following me, and I—I faceplant in between your shoulder blades, right between your wings. You—” You lowered your voice, shrinking a little in the hospital bed, “You got rid of them so easily, with just a gesture, and you put your arm around me. You were—” You shook your head, staring at both of your hands. “—so warm.”

Was that too thick? That was too thick, wasn’t it?

His free hand shot to his mouth, and he bit his knuckle. “But sweetheart, that’s,” said Hawks, his eyes watering, “That’s only around the third time we met.”

You know.

“Shit,” you said, widening your eyes, “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” Hawks squeezed your hand and kept the pressure longer than was necessary. “Three fucking years. You don’t remember anything past that?”

You pretended to be scared to look at him. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, you don’t have to be,” said Hawks, and he leant towards you to lift your chin, rubbing his thumb against it, “It’s not your fault.”

You had to hand it to him: Hawks was a good actor.

But so were you.

***

Hawks disappeared for a while after that, but he manifested the day you were loosed from the hospital, more than giddy to carry all of your shit all the way to your flat. He was probably getting some sick pleasure from watching you hobble on your crutches.

“I can help you, if you lean on me,” said Hawks, giving you an easy grin, “I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you have to.”

“This is something I should do myself,” you said in what was hopefully a tough-it-out voice, “I’d like to be able to walk without depending on anyone.”

“I honestly think you ought to be in a wheelchair.” His wings bristled. “But what do I know? I could fly us to your place, if you like.”

“I don’t like. I’ve gotta concentrate on limping. Stop talking, Hawks.”

You got to your flat, and Hawks had guessed which key opened the door on the first try. Drat! He was already doing a good job of acting like he’d been here before, like he’s not surprised that the number fourteen hero lives in a pretty shitty apartment (you started living here as a student and got too damn comfortable for your own good—plus, you didn’t want your cat to endure the trauma of moving).

Hawks plopped your keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter, and he shut the front door behind you, flipping one of the locks.

He set your stuff neatly on the kitchen table—your purse, your tactical pack, your ropes—and lay your dry-cleaned hero suit over the back of a kitchen chair, and his hands were on you the next moment to guide you to your tacky, sunflower couch. Removing one crutch, he put your arm over his shoulder instead, one hand planted on your lower back above your bandages, and he eased you down onto the cushions.

Hawks then stepped over your legs to sit on your opposite side, and he brought your legs to rest in his lap, his hand gripping your non-casted leg. “Gotta keep it elevated, chickadee.”

You let yourself giggle. Time to get this shitshow started. “Thank you so much for helping me, Hawks; I know I’ve been a real hassle these past few days, and you shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of stress. You’re already under so much. I don’t understand how the commission would let you date anyone, let alone propose.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hawks, spreading himself out on the couch. He shifted himself to face you in addition to accommodate his wings—he was now positioned so that they’d drape over the arm of the couch instead of being squished against the back cushions. That bitch, he probably wasn’t used to couches that weren’t custom made to his special body requirements. Spoiled fuck.

“The commission was really pissed when they found out. Do you remember how, sweetness? Right, I’ll tell you,” said Hawks, running an ungloved hand through his hair before shaking it loose. “You remember up to the press conference with the faceplant. Short version is that you hated me for a good year before something clicked. You started acting awkward whenever I was around, avoiding me, and stuff. Sometimes getting red. I thought it was cute.”

You ducked your head. Flustered. He probably likes easily flustered women.

Wait. That’s not who you are. And he’d like you for who you are, if you’re engaged.

But at the same time, if you’re (gag) in love with him, wouldn’t you be flustered by some of the things he says?

Easy, baby. Take it as it comes. Pick your battles. Go with your gut.

And gut says make Hawks eat shit.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I know you’re cute.”

You’re going to stuff his own feathers down his throat.

“We got together at that dinner Endeavor’s agency sponsored. Do you remember that at all? That place with the purple lights. You’d gotten nervous from the crowd and had gone to take some of your anxiety meds. I caught you in the hall back from the bathroom and talked you down before going back out there.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’d like to say I’m the one who kissed you, but you took initiative before I had the guts.”

Funny. Hilarious, in fact. That was the night Hawks had solidified himself as the Biggest Dick in the World, because yeah, he’d caught you in the purple-lit hallway, but he’d caught you on the way to take your meds, not on the way back. You were talking yourself down from a panic attack and couldn’t argue him away, so he’d followed you into the bathroom, running his mouth and acting like it was an accident when the tip of his wing had knocked your two capsules down the sink.

He’d told you that if you’re a big girl, you’d be able to handle the rest of the night. Or you could leave at any time with him, and he’d make excuses that everyone would have to accept.

Honestly, you’d love to let his fake memory be true, because then, you’d be able to wear purple again without feeling queasy.

Cocking your head, you smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Hawks let out a light laugh, craning his neck to rest his head on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you said that night, too. About how it felt out of character.”

“Was I good?”

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow at you: probably the first genuine emotion he’s shown you the whole time he’s been here. “Hm?”

“When I kissed you. Was it good,” you asked flatly.

“Oh,” Hawks said, his wings puffing out just barely, “Oh, sweetheart, you were amazing. Groundbreaking. Show-stopping.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and he shifted underneath your legs, leaning slightly towards you but holding eye contact before carrying on.

You shook your head. “I don’t have the energy to give you the makeout session you deserve,” you said, envisioning drowning him in the bathtub, “I’m exhausted. Forgive me.”

“Always,” said Hawks, “Want me to keep going?”

“You can hardly eat me out when we haven’t kissed yet.”

“I meant,” said Hawks, pausing to visibly swallow (was it real?), “about our relationship, but if you wanna eat—”

“Nah, keep going. So, I started the relationship? I must be crazy. Neither of us have fucking time to sleep, let alone be in a relationship.”

Hawks never shut up about how he was taking time out of his endlessly packed days to spend time with you, how time was precious to him, and if he’s spending time with you, why, then, you’d better pay up, bitch (always accompanied with his hands on his belt, subtly pointing his thumbs towards his cock).

Hawks shrugged with his wings instead of his shoulders. Interesting. Has he ever done that before? “The commission said that, but after I insisted we’d make time, they relented. Eventually,” said Hawks, jerking his head to the side, “Our quirks don’t exactly fit well, so we haven’t worked with each other professionally too often, and, of course, we’ve had to hide our relationship so that we can’t be a public weak spot to each other. Plus, we’re more marketable as eligible, young heroes.”

“Fuck the market,” you said, slumping into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” said Hawks, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth, “There’s her spark. I know, baby. I feel the same way, but being made into libidinous body pillows pays the bills, y’know?”

Nodding, you brought one of the couch pillows around for you to hug, and you smushed your chin into it. “Hawks,” you said, so quietly you almost couldn’t be heard over the A/C kicking on, “How long have we been engaged?”

“Four months,” he said, his grin unconsciously fading until he was essentially baring his teeth, “Since the twentieth.”

Taking a moment, you said, “I can’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s okay. It’ll come back.”

“No, I can’t—” You slid your hands through your hair, pulling at it, and you heaved a sigh. “Goddammit, Hawks. I wish I could—fuck. I’m missing something huge. I know I am.” Make him nervous. Make him lie awake at night. “I’m sorry, Hawks. It’s probably something really important, and I—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hawks, and he stood to lean over you, his hands rising to cup your face, and holy shit, his hands cover so much of your skin; is that legal? He’s got hands. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a big day. Turn your brain off. I’ll take care of you.”

Red flag! Big, red flag! Creep! He’s a creep!

Your gaze fell to his jacket pockets. Does he carry date rape drugs on his person?

“Hawks, I don’t wanna inconvenience you any more than I have.”

“I’m your fiancé,” said Hawks, actually looking you straight in the eyes and not breaking, “I want to take care of you.”

“Sure, in the way the mob takes care of people.”

Hawks’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.

Cover it up. “I’m not sorry. I don’t trust your cooking. You’ll poison my spaghetti!” You made a dumb gesture, pinching your fingers together. “Have you seen The Godfather? There’s actually a pretty legit spaghetti recipe in it; it’s not too bad, but it’s kind of watery—”

Hawks brought your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles and let his lips linger. “Watch it with me?”

You shook your head. “I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No,” you said, “My bed’s not made with your wings in mind.” Fuck off to your own little sex next, Hawks. Get out of here. “If they got hurt, it’d be my fault. Go sleep in your own bed, all right?” Go home. Get mugged on the way.

Hawks sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “If you insist. But you’ve gotta reach out to me for anything you have trouble with, yeah? Memories, opening jars, orgasms, you know.”

“I’m leaving,” you said, reaching for your crutches, “Ten minutes ago.”

***

“You didn’t tell me how you proposed.”

Hawks froze mid-bite of his ramen, but after a quick beat, he slurped the rest of the noodle up. “I was hoping you’d recall that on your own, baby. Get your own feelings about it, instead of me telling you how to feel.”

If you weren’t faking amnesia, you’d fucking break his nose for that. Bastard.

“I imagine once you tell me, the feelings will rush in,” you said, clicking your chopsticks twice for emphasis, “I want to remember everything, and if I don’t, well, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Hawks’s gaze glazed over for an infinitesimal moment. Score.

“It’ll sound goofy once I describe it.” With his wings cramped against the back of the booth, Hawks scratched the back of his neck—a classic move for pretending to be embarrassed. “I’m not exactly known for being romantic.”

Yeah, he’s known for fooling around with anyone who’s glittery, like a goddamn crow. If you’re paying attention.

“Aw, but Hawks, you’ve been nothing but so effortlessly romantic to me since I’ve been convalescing,” you said, rolling up the paper wrapper of your straw and soaking it in the ring your cup left on the table.

“Right, well. I flew us out to the countryside, to this overlook halfway up a mountain. You liked going rappelling there a lot. To practise for missions.” Hawks had some of your habits down, at least. Bet he gets the location wrong, though. “We watched the sunrise. We shared a thermos of tea. I asked you once the sun had risen, but you didn’t say yes right away,” said Hawks, “You jumped off the overlook without your gear, and I caught you. You were furious about it—you didn’t want me to see you overwhelmed. But you said yes.”

Ugh. That sounded about right. That sounded pretty realistic. Hawks was a fucking stalker.

“Fuck,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “That’s cute.” You stretched the skin of your cheeks before releasing, and you returned to your ramen. “Question: did we put the ring into storage, or something? I don’t have the little indent on my ring finger from wearing a ring too long, and I haven’t found anything at home.” Make him sweat. Make him stumble. Where’s the ring, Hawks?

With a flash of his eyebrows, Hawks maneuvered his straw to his mouth using only his lips, looking quite stupid, in your opinion. “Figured you’d ask that at some point. I’m so overjoyed to see you every time that I forget to bring it up. The ring’s been sent off to a high-level, government-backed, support company. I’ve pulled in a favour from the higher-ups. I wanted to turn your ring into something a little more personal and incorporate one of my feathers into it,” said Hawks, taking a moment to slurp his drink noisily, “Depending on how well it goes, I’d be able to help you if we’re separated and know where you are. At the very least—” Hawks ducked his head to give the illusion of staring up at you with wide eyes, his blond eyelashes light against his skin. “—I’d be able to feel your heartbeat. It would bring me great comfort.”

Great, so he’d have a GPS on you at all times, knowing whether or not you went somewhere he didn’t want you to. He’d be able to tell if you went somewhere your non-amnesia self would know about. Great. Phenomenal.

“Hawks, that’s very sweet,” you said, fiddling with the remnants of your straw wrapper, now fizzled out of its snake shape, “Wouldn’t the process hurt you, though? Since you can feel it.”

“Nothing more than a twinge, sweetheart,” said Hawks, holding up his hands, “And I’d bear any amount of pain for your sake.”

You fantasised about beating his head in with the back end of a rifle.

***

When you were told Hawks was waiting for you outside of the recording booth, you told the messenger that Hawks could wait until you were finished with five more takes. You could picture Hawks’s little pout at the news, his feathers bristling despite the closed space, and resigning himself to sit in one of those clangy, metal chairs out front, having to hunch forward so that he didn’t crush his wings.

The idol group adored the ingenuity of bone-crunching as percussion in a song, and along with that and some other combat foley, you were singing the bridge with the rapper of the group (the dance captain would sing your part for live shows). It’d be a good promo for the girl group and for you, and the song, “Spine,” was going to be released as a single as soon as it was polished.

Hawks perked up the moment you stepped through the secondary door to the booth, his eyes brightening and wings spreading to take up more space. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” said Hawks, standing to take your hands (the cold leather gloves sucked the heat out of your hands), “I’ve got to fly, soon, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

“You’re not pregnant,” you said, fighting the urge to break his goggles/visor/hat thing.

His lopsided grin widened. “Not yet, baby. There’s gonna be a heroes’ gala held at the end of the month, and I wanted to let you know that I’m doing everything in my power to make it a positive experience for you. Here, I’ve got this woman’s phone number,” he said, fishing a slip of paper out of his jacket, “She’ll help accommodate the venue for your leg.”

Stupid fucking bastard man. He probably wanted to pick out your clothes himself, infantilise you and dress you up like a goddamn doll. Deny you your personhood. “I’ll be out of the cast by then.” You slid the paper into your back pocket.

“I know,” Hawks said in a way that was a fucking lie, “I just don’t want there to be any accidents. I can’t have my babygirl any more hurt than she is.” Hawks placed his cold, gloved hand against your cheek, and you, shutting your eyes, made yourself lean into it. “But contact her. She’ll make it the safest place it can be for you, even when I have to leave your side.”

God, galas were great. Big events for villains to ruin. You licked your lips thinking about using a new move you’ve learnt to take a villain down (involving clamping your legs around the villain’s neck to choke him as he crumpled to the floor—your combat coach had banned you from the move after you made her pass out). “Are we announcing our engagement, then? If we’re going together?”

“I’d love to,” said Hawks, “but only if you want to. The ring could be ready by then, if I ask them to rush it—”

“Let’s do it.” If you plunged the ring into icy water, would he start to shiver? Ooh, your ring’s going to act as a fucking bay leaf in your soups for a while.

“Oh,” said Hawks, sighing lightly with his eyes fluttering shut. He pressed his forehead to yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how much that means to me, sweetheart. You are so dear to me, and I want everyone to know it. The best damn thing in my life. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, placing your hand on his face to push him away, “Don’t you have work to do, screw boy?”

***

“Did we have a date?” you asked from the edge of the bathtub.

Hawks dipped the razor in the water, washing off the hair and shaving cream. “We’ve gone on so many, darling; you’ll have to specify.”

“No, I meant for the wedding.” Let’s once again play: Can Hawks Cover His Own Ass?

Hawks dragged the razor down your freshly exfoliated, freshly-un-casted, freshly not-broken leg, starting at your knee. “Nope!”

“No explanation?”

“You wanna get married tomorrow? A six-month engagement is rather short, don’t you think?” His nose twitched. He’d said the scent of your shaving cream irritated his nose. Good.

“I don’t. Why didn’t we have a date for the wedding?” You eyed the actual and literal pile of your dead skin on the towel. Maybe you should make Hawks snort it.

“We were too busy working; you’d said you didn’t mind having a long engagement, so long as I was yours. Then, uh, you know. The accident,” Hawks said with a shrug—with his shoulders this time, because if he moved his wings while he was crouched in your bathtub, he’d soak them, and they were a bitch to dry, apparently. Suffer, you rat bastard.

“The commission isn’t involved in that decision?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Hawks, gripping your ankle to turn your calf to the side, “They don’t want it to be a huge spectacle, so even I don’t know how much of a wedding wedding they’d let us have.”

He’s too damn good at this. If he weren’t a pro-hero, he’d fit right along in a theatre troupe.

You’re going to wring his neck.

You caught him staring at the crotch of your underwear (bone-dry, you might add) while he shaved your thighs, and he spent more time rubbing lotion into your inner thighs than anywhere else. He tossed your dead skin before you could make him eat it, and he scooped you up against your protestations about your weight and capability, humming while he carried you to your bed.

The fucker tucked you in and rounded up your cat to place in your arms (your cat disagreed with him and promptly leapt off the bed).

“Let me stay with you,” said Hawks, kissing each of your fingertips. It’s an order.

Yet you shook your head.

***

“The doctors said you shouldn’t drink,” Hawks said under his breath, taking the champagne flute gently from your grasp.

“But I want to,” you said, sticking out your lower lip, “I’m wearing goddamn heels and a fucking dress. I’ve got on makeup, for Christ’s sake. I’ve done my time; let me drink.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stay safe,” he said, and he set the glass next to some 40s-level hero’s place at the long, white tablecloth. “There’s already press paying more attention to us than usual. You wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, lifting another champagne flute from a passing gala waiter, “Who gives a shit about the press.”

Hawks laughed too loudly to be natural before lowering his voice. “Baby, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Promise?”

***

When “Spine” was released on a cool, spring morning to an excitable audience, you were lurking in alleyways by the docks, searching for a fight. When the music video dropped, you were smashing some guy’s face into a concrete wall. While more and more citizens recognised you and your talent, your work for the community, your connections, your popularity—with your rank steadily rising—you were rappelling down a port sewer to pummel a slime villain into dust.

You wiped his blood off on your pants, hands devoid of anything that could taint. You’d left the ring at home.

***

“You tricked me,” you said, scowling as Hawks pushed you forward, “This isn’t the rock climbing park.”

Once you deliberately smashed your face into the glass door and crossed your arms, Hawks held the door open for you. “Would you have dressed up so nicely for rock climbing?”

“A meta-game challenge,” you said, “to rock-climb in a long skirt.”

You glowered about the restaurant while you and Hawks stood in the lobby, his hand low on your back, suspiciously respectfully. You made no effort to hide your distaste: it was the place with the purple lights.

Over there at the absurdly long bar, Endeavor had drunk flat whisky without so much of a growl at anyone, despite it being his event. Hexagonal tables with lilac tablecloths dotted the floor—you’d hidden in one of the few booths, up against the exposed brick wall—but your hiding place had been ruined once a violet disco ball had emerged from the ceiling. Shiny, wooden floor that had reflected your post-panic attack face right back at you and let every shoe strike it with a clatter. No silence allowed.

The whole restaurant had lavender LED lights running around the walls, swathing the place in a distorted sort of purple haze, and any candles lit on the centre tables had indigo flames—you’d focused on how those might have been made in the process of coming down from your panic attack.

God. You’re going to throw up.

The hostess escorted you and Hawks to a farther back room, this one with booths separated by small, brick walls that didn’t reach the ceiling yet concealed the booths’ occupants from each other—unless you were passing directly in front of one.

Hawks made you sit in the booth first, trapping you in as he settled. He had to be on the edge, anyway, he told you, because of his wings. You’re going to rip them off and boil them in the soup.

The two of you ordered. You don’t remember what. You can only channel so much of your nerves into jostling your leg. This is not cool. This place is not cool. You need to get out.

“Hey, let me through,” you said, nudging Hawks, “Bathroom.”

Once there, you lightly slapped your cheeks a couple of times, trying to ground yourself through physical sensation. No use. Can’t they fucking use normal lights in this place?

You didn’t have your panic meds, because you’ve never needed them rock climbing. You can do it. You’re fine. You’re fine. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

You took your time meandering back to the booth, coming to a halt at the end of the narrow hallway and ducking behind the corner.

Endeavor stood by your booth, his arms crossed over a flaming chest. You caught your breath at the sight of his orange fire, a comforting contrast to all the damn purple, but still—Endeavor. Talking to your (gag) fiancé.

Without the courage to interact with Endeavor, you listened at the corner for his departure.

“Nah, she can handle her bladder just fine. It’s her nerves,” Hawks was saying, hidden by the bricks, “She likes hiding. She doesn’t necessarily like being in the spotlight.”

“Yet she hasn’t completely withdrawn as Eraserhead has. You’ve picked a strange one to marry.”

From the angle Endeavor glared at him, Hawks must be slumping in his seat. “But that’s what so great about her. And it’s hard to process, y’know, like, she’s finally mine. You follow?”

“Regrettably,” said Endeavor, “Regardless, I offer my congratulations that your courtship finally worked out in your favour. You should have told me sooner.”

Courtship. That’s a funny way to pronounce bullying.

“Eh, I’ve gotta have some secrets, don’t I? Can’t betray my otherwise cool exterior.” Hawks laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve been allowed such happiness. The woman I’ve loved for years is gonna be waking up to me every day soon, y’know?”

Hawks has got to know you can hear him, otherwise he wouldn’t be saying those things. Endeavor must be in on Hawks’s ruse, since Endeavor is Hawks’s closest—actually, Endeavor isn’t the type to revel in romantic shit. Endeavor straight-up isn’t the type to revel. To the best of your knowledge, Endeavor doesn’t genuinely like Hawks as so much as tolerates him; when did they get so close? It must have taken a long time—

Time.

You could feel your IQ dropping as you actually considered: had you been in a legitimate coma? Had you (fuck) genuinely had amnesia?

No, no. You don’t live in Crazytown. Your eyebrows hadn’t been overgrown when you’d woken up in the hospital. You’d only been there a day.

Of course, Hawks is a vain piece of shit and does his own eyebrows, so he might have considered that yours were a piece of pride/insecurity for you and may have done them while you were—did Hawks do his own eyebrows? That spoiled fuck probably had someone else to do them for him. If they were naturally like that, you were going to throttle his ass.

You didn’t fucking have amnesia. Hawks is and always has been a stupid, clammy birdbrain. He’s always been cruel to you. He didn’t fucking like you.

He sure as hell wasn’t in fucking love with you.

Oh, my fuck, what if your memories of Hawks have been fabricated by a coma-addled mind and that—

“Hey, there,” said—said someone, some pale-ass, sleep-deprived freak who startled you out of your head, “Are you all right? You look—I mean, do you need some water? A chair?”

You blinked, yet he wouldn’t come into focus—you were taking in details about him, ones that didn’t fucking matter (chain on his wallet, three rings all on the left hand, a button-down missing the last button, a cloud of axe body spray), but he didn’t register as a human person. He couldn’t; you hadn’t grounded yourself yet. You yourself still had a frazzled, cartoon scribble buzzing inside of your chest, and until you vomited it up, a panic attack may yet still happen.

You can’t deal with anyone new right now.

A spark of recognition crossed the new guy’s face, and he, through a smirk, asked if you were your hero name.

Oh god oh fuck not now

“Sweetheart,” came Hawks’s melodious drawl (registering first his voice, then bodily warmth, then the wingtip covering your ass), “You were taking so long that I came to check on you.” He pulled you by the waist towards him, blocking the guy from seeing your face by pressing it into his chest. “Who’s this?”

Who cares. All you could focus on (sharp and overwhelming, nothing else but) was how fucking incredible Hawks smelled, and at this point, you’d use anything to bring yourself back down to earth. A small voice in the back of your head told you that freaking out to this degree in this particular situation was leaning towards pathetic, since basically nothing happened, besides being in an uncomfortable environment and being accosted by a fan at the wrong time, but you? You did not control the rate at which your brain panicked.

And really, no rhyme or reason played into why your grabby little hands itched for human contact once safe in the booth again, why Hawks’s scent lay on your tongue more heavily than your soup, why the overwhelming sensation of being so fucking spaced out of it threw its entire weight upon your shoulders—you couldn’t find yourself. You were lost.

And in this horrible, purple place, the only thing that’s familiar was Hawks.

When you scooted as closely as you could to him in the booth, keeping your glare towards your lap while you looped your arm under his to snuggle into it, Hawks cleared his throat to say, “What’s this?”

You scowled into his jacket, both hands gripping his forearm.

He set his chopsticks down. “How can I help, darling?”

Growling, you bonked your forehead against his shoulder, dragging your hands down to his.

“Hey,” said Hawks, and he guided your face towards his and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Did that guy bother you too much before I got there?”

Turning your mouth towards the hand cupping your cheek, you kissed his palm, bit the leather, and kissed it again before burying yourself in his shoulder again.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head. “What’s the matter? Can you tell me?”

“Not sure I can put it into words,” you said, “I think I wanna go home.” You bit the fabric of his jacket and gnashed it between your teeth.

“I can handle that,” said Hawks, “Gimme a moment to get takeaway boxes, yeah? Then we’ll leave, and you’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, you were still clutching onto his arm by the time he unlocked his darkened penthouse (because you’re not gonna hold his hand. God), but you slapped his hand away from the light switches.

“Turning them on would be too much stimulation,” you said, “Please don’t.”

Hawks hummed against the top of your head, placing keys and both of your phones on the kitchen counter. “Bed or couch?”

“Window,” you said.

“Window?”

“I’m assuming you’ve got one.”

“I do,” said Hawks, guiding you through his dark apartment, probably past scarily expensive, posh shit. He led you to what was most likely his living room, with the cool, dim light of the night sky through a vast, single-frame, wall-to-floor window illuminating furniture custom built for his wings, but he eased you down onto the carpet, tugging your shirt upwards so that the window would be touching your bare skin on the small of your back.

Hawks yanked his boots off, late, instead of at the door, and he tossed them over his shoulder. He took yours off, too, and once he’d set them aside, he sat next to you against the window, a hand on your thigh.

“Better?”

“Probably,” you said, staring at the triangle of light beige carpet between your crossed legs.

“Need me to talk? You need to talk?”

“Not right now.”

Hawks was a dumbass. He’s such a fucking dumbass. But he’s a dumbass who’s here right now, and he’s interested (?) in you, interested in helping you. And good golly, you have to be touched. Hawks’s offering warmth, freely, potentially lovingly, and all you had to do was reach out to take it, even if you didn’t reciprocate whatever sentiment was motivating him yourself.

Do you really want to take what you have no feelings for?

Hawks lies a lot to Endeavor. To everyone. He might not have been lying earlier. What reason had he to lie?

Guess it didn’t matter, because you were lying.

But good God, you haven’t been kissed in a long time. Haven’t felt safe or loved. You could…you could indulge for a few hours in order to calm down. You could pretend.

The last ten months had proved that.

“Hey,” you said idly, reaching out to grab the inner fleece lining of his jacket to rub it between your fingers, “Hawks, I’m gonna—I’m gonna put my mouth on your mouth. Okay?”

Hawks’s wings ruffled and constricted themselves so that he could move closer to you, and his hand has migrated from your thigh to grip your hip—how could anyone’s hands encompass that much of you? Your fucking hands couldn’t, not in the way his does.

(Bird man big and safe.)

([No, fuck you, don’t think that.])

(BIRD MAN SAFE—)

Shoved is how you’d describe the first few seconds of the kiss, followed closely by wet and you’d think his teeth would be sharper. Your lips didn’t line up with his completely until he adjusted your chin with two of his fingers, guiding it open just barely, as well, so that his tongue could graze your teeth—it took you a moment of processing before parting them, with a final don’t think! shouted to your neocortex.

Birds have a higher body temperature than other animals, on average having a body temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). The colour of their feathers, of course, affects how much light and heat they absorb, with the lighter coloured feathers—say, red—reflecting more, rejecting outside heat sources.

Yet Hawks gripped you like he’d fucking freeze if he weren’t clutching you, if he weren’t straddling your legs, one palm flat against the cool of the window by your head. The other snaked around you, his forearm lying almost vertically up your back to press down between your shoulder blades, keeping you as near to his chest (he probably didn’t realise it, but his fingers ran across the curve of your shoulder blades where his wings were on his own body.

For some reason, the thought crossed your mind that you weren’t enough for him, because you were too dissimilar.)

Don’t think!

When he massaged your tongue with his, applying pressure sporadically, you returned the action—have you ever seen a bird tongue up close? They’re fucking nasty little things, looking more like a grub than anything else. Thank God Hawks had a normal, human tongue that performed particularly delightful, normal things, like drag across the roof of your mouth and aid in sucking phenomenal hickeys onto your jawline, licking over where he’s bitten and kissed.

Stop thinking about bird anatomy. Hawks has no discernible bird traits except for his fucking wings. He’s not a fucking bird man. He’s just some dude with wings. And not all birds have functional wings; for example, the ostrich and the penguin do not have wings to be used in flight—

Oh, my fuck. Turn your brain off.

Your stomach lurched. That had been something Hawks had told you too often, back before your accident.

It’s what he wants.

Hawks fucking whimpered when you pulled the shorter hairs at the back of his neck, prying him away from your skin with great difficulty—he kept trying to touch you with his mouth and tongue in the process.

“Let me have more,” he said, panting, his breath heavy and just below your ear, “Please.” He pressed his lips to the spot in front of your ear in a weak kiss, having spent himself for the most part. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for so long.”

“I don’t—” You fake-stuttered, but it turned out you needed the time to put your thoughts into words. “I don’t think I’m back yet. I’m,” you said, taking as deep a breath as you could with Hawks smushed against your chest, “Something’s missing. Something big.” That’s right. Steer it back in his direction. Make the bird man sweat. “I don’t—something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a moment, but Hawks nodded fervently, shutting his eyes. “Of course. Yeah. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. Can’t do anything when your heart’s not in it.”

Your heart’s not the problem. “Thank you for being so understanding, Hawks,” you said, untangling yourself from underneath him, “Would you just, uh, hold me for a while?”

His wings wrapped around the both of you on his enormous bed, still fluttering with each slow breath he took. Hawks almost looked genuine while he slept, and probably for the best—at least he was getting rest; at least his guard might be down.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing.

***

“Rank speculation is out,” you said, scrubbing the pumice stone over a patch of dry skin on Hawks’s back and scrolling through the twitter with your other hand, “Take a look.”

He opened the link you sent once he’d safely removed a dead feather that had been lodged in an odd spot in a wing. “Huh. Think I could truly take on Endeavor?”

“Well, he’s got that abusive-to-his-family thing, while you’re rocking the preparing-for-my-wedding look, and he can’t network non-aggressively to save his life.”

“Nor can you.” Hawks shot you a smirk over his shoulder.

“Zoom in on my speculated nine, baby,” you said, flicking away some dead skin with a satisfied/disgusted sneer, “And I didn’t have to sleep my way there.”

“Ah, ha, ha,” said Hawks, “Knew you could do it. Whoever’s told you that is gonna have to deal with my foot up their ass. You’re more than capable of getting there on your own.”

“Which I did. I have.” Wait. Hawks told you that. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s a commonly said, misogynistic comment towards women heroes. Hawks isn’t special. “But having your foot up someone’s ass wouldn’t be good for PR, unless you wanted to advertise that you’re a kinky son of a bitch who’s cheating on his fiancée.”

“I would never,” said Hawks, and, contorting his arm, he grabbed your hand with the pumice stone to kiss the back of it, “But my PR is solid, regardless.”

“If the public knew how much time you had to spend preening these fucking wings, they’d probably appreciate you more. Or call you conceited.”

Hawks hummed. “It’s a necessary evil,” he said, returning to his wingtip to search for dead feathers. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see how—Hawks, holy fuck. Do you feel that?” You ran a finger near the base of a wing.

“It’s your finger?”

“No, this,” you said, tapping the spot.

“No?”

“My God. It’s a dilated pore of a winer,” you said, already reaching for the tweezers, “Right at the base of your wing. It’s basically an enormous fucking blackhead. I’m popping it. Oh, my God. I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“You’re popping it?”

“You didn’t have a problem with my getting the ones where your costume sits.”

“No,” said Hawks, rolling back his shoulders, his wings spreading with them, “Gotcha. Get on with it.”

“Can I film it?”

“What? No,” said Hawks, “No one can see me preening, let alone dealing with acne.”

“There’s sure to be another hero out there with a wing quirk, right? I don’t know how you can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Hawks said slowly, “Since my feathers can feel—I suppose where the wings merge with my skin is pretty numb. I haven’t ever had to think about it.” He licked his lips. “Funny.”

He continued to scroll through his feed and tend to his feathers while you worked at his back. “Bad news: the tabloids got a hold of our grocery list from the last time we went to the shops. I must have dropped it at some point in the store.”

“Oh, so do they know what kind of ice cream we prefer? The horror.”

“No, but they’ve brought in some hack handwriting analyst. Talking about our annotations for each other on the list. Something about how you’re logical and I’m a romantic. The writer of the article is practically swooning.” Hawks pulled out a clot of feathers with his teeth and spat them aside. “With good reason, though. The trashy pictures they snapped of us are hot.”

“Describe them to me.”

“I can show you—”

“No,” you said, concentrating on your work, “I don’t want the image imprinted on my brain. Describe them in your own words.”

“All right,” said Hawks, crossing his legs and placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him, “To start, the flash is on.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. We’ve got that distantly surprised look going on. It looks like we’re near the eggs and cheese. You’re not looking at the camera, but I believe it’s in the moment I caught it.” Hawks flicked away a feather and let it fall to the carpet. “My hand’s on your waist. The other’s on the cart. You’ve scrunched your face up in concentration; it’s really cute.”

“Aw, we should get it framed,” you said, wiping away the gunk with a tissue and wadding it up so that no one will ever have to see or touch it ever again.

“Never,” said Hawks, “The first picture of us I wanna get framed should be on our wedding day.”

“It’s coming along quickly,” you said, setting aside the tweezers, “Bit more quickly than I’d thought it would.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Hawks with a light laugh, and you ducked to rest your head against his shoulder, straining your neck to reach him over his wing.

Hawks clicked his non-nasty, non-bird tongue. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Sighing, you said, “Turn your head this way.”

He did you one better, since he anticipated your plan. He twisted around, keeping his legs crossed as he pulled you into his lap. His wings initially bristled but wrapped around you when his arms did, and Hawks kissed your cheek, once, twice, until he arrived at your mouth, where he barely grazed your lips, rather letting his hot breath spread over your face—and he grinned up at you with half-lidded eyes (he’d left off his eyeliner today, but the natural marks below his waterline kept his eyes sharp, anyway).

“Kiss me, you fucking idiot,” you said, overriding whatever he was about to do by kissing him yourself, hard and open-mouthed, almost violent in its fervent. Yet Hawks held you lightly, delicately, but still close enough to freeze.

You ran your cold, cold hands over his bare abdomen, pressing your thumb down with considerable force to trace his muscles (he grunted at that, and that’s it; that’s right—make him squirm; make him sweat; make him yours). His finger only toyed with the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, as if waiting for you, which didn’t line up with what you had garnered about Hawks at all, but c’mon, man, come on; didn’t you want this all those months ago? Almost a year, now? Years, if what he said to Endeavor is true? But when he flinched away with a shaky breath once your cold fingers circled his nipple, you knew this was where you were supposed to be: right here, in Hawks’s lap, completely destroying him with hardly anything at all. Nothing but light touches and a strategic flick of your tongue. Idiot man. He must really like you if this is doing it for him.

You slowed and opened your eyes at that thought, frowning, and you pulled away. With the back of his hand, Hawks wiped saliva off of both of your mouths, yours first.

He waited for you.

“If you can’t take all of me, then what’s the point?”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take whatever part of you you’re willing to share.”

“I’m missing something.”

“I know.”

“I want to find it before we get married.” You laid your palm flat on his chest, and he grinned at the cold.

“You can find it,” he said, “I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m blocking out,” you said, lying—or maybe you weren’t? Fuck it. “Whatever I’m repressing is really fucking with me.”

“Take your time,” said Hawks, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I’m here for—”

“Hawks,” you said, faking the light of realisation in your eyes, accompanied with a sharp inhale, “I can’t remember your name.”

Hawks’s mouth snapped shut.

“You told me once. I know you did,” you said, moving to cup his cheek after tapping the mark underneath his eye, “but the memory—there’s a blur where you spoke. I—” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. “That, that might be it. I don’t know. Everything else about the scene is in perfect detail. I remember what fucking socks I was wearing, for Christ’s sake. But you. What you said. Maybe it’s something so personal, so intimate, that I’ve repressed it. Maybe it was too much for me to handle.” You cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you. If you hadn’t been scrutinising him for some evidence of breaking character, you wouldn’t’ve seen the minute quivering of his upper lip. Hardly there, but it was there. “It’s a part of you that I want. Even if I couldn’t handle it before, I want to try now.”

Hawks averted his gaze, even though he couldn’t move his head. And bang, you’ve got him. Hawks’s name was still strictly secret, hidden by the commission, but if he’s genuinely in this dumbass situation for the long haul, if he’s truly in it for you, then he would have told you. Even if he wanted you to continue to call him Hawks, your own fiancé would have told you his damn name.

So, this is it. The way out.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out you’ve been faking all this time. Good. Let each feather burn.

“Keigo,” he said, staring into your eyes with a newfound determination, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Oh, shit—you clapped a hand over your heart, your eyes widening. Maybe you could play this off as memory recovery instead of absolute shock? But you hadn’t any memories to recover, probably. Holy fuck.

Where do you go from here?

You tried to say his name but ended up simply mouthing it, and after clearing your throat and coughing a bit, you managed to say it aloud. “Keigo,” you said softly, reaching for his hand, “Keigo, I fucking love you.”

You’d only been kissing him for a few moments before his wings shuddered in a muscle spasm and flung you off to the side.

***

Only a commission higher-up witnessed your wedding. She stood silently to the side the entire ceremony in the courthouse and only shook Hawks’s hand afterwards.

You and your cat essentially moved into his penthouse and adjusted. Your mostly empty apartment stayed leased under your name.

Sometimes, you’d note that you turned your brain off and instantly be hit with a lightning strike of self-loathing—but you didn’t have to consciously decide to be affectionate with Hawks. Being with him came naturally and easily. Probably for the best, since if you had to think about it, you’d screw it up.

You stayed together. Supported each other. Sneaked out to see the other on patrol. Took care, listened to each other. Defended each other. Worked it out.

And now, you stared up at the ceiling fan whirling in your darkened bedroom, Keigo lying on his stomach next to you in the bed as he slept. Your cat catloafed between his wings and nestled into them, rising and falling with each breath he took. Hawks was perfect, always saving the day, working up a routine to mesh with your fighting style and quirk, always charming and easygoing with the people he rescued, indulging you in your ferocity, and Keigo, Keigo whispered sweet and dirty things into your ear when he spotted you in public, made you laugh, worked wonders with his cock, helped you clean up before he even thought of preening himself, held you, and made you feel held. He’s got it bad.

And maybe you do, too.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out.

#bnha #mha #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #hawks x reader #hawks/reader #hawks imagine #hawks fic #hawks headcanons #hawks fanfic #hawks fanfiction #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo/reader #takami keigo imagine #takami keigo fic #takami keigo headcanons #takami keigo fanfiction #takami keigo fanfic

341 notes · View notes

syubub · 3 years ago

Text

May 13th Reading

Definitely long awaited and way bigger than I intended it to be so buckle up.

Funky disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken as fact! This is my interpretation of the cards!

Oh boy. The continuation of yoongis soulmate saga.

(Note frome future me: it's not proofread but I'm hungry. Sorry for mistakes!)

So so so so

Let's start.

I started with all the normal jazz. Connecting with his energy and shit. Same as usual same old same old. Platform= same same. I was like, "hey, let's talk about your soulmate and the whole may 13th shit" and we connected via energy stringy thing to the forehead and such. I was intresting bc my end of the string was kinda my energy color! Neato. Looks like some rest has really done me good!

Okay, here's where I start actually asking shit. I made notes at this point before the reading as I usually do. I'm just gonna insert the screen shot here.

The 14 thing really fucked me up. You'll see later. Also, when I got the whole Pisces Jupiter thing I had to do me some googling bc we established that Jupiter went into Pisces ON May 13th so I was like?? Am I missing something?

I was. I forgot that it goes retrograde and then co.es back to Pisces on December 28th. And I do indeed think it to be significant.

The shit about temperance makes a lot of sense. In yoongis first soulmate read I flipped my shit bc he was like, "You're gonna get temperance reverse" in regards to a card for his soulmate and I was like "pft whatever. Don't play me like that"

And then I got temperance reverse. It's been a significant card from the jump.

I asked him if he had any advice for his soulmate and that's what "Don't wait for big things, you'll miss the small ones that lead you to bigger things" and "Look for facts before assuming" and "Don't try pushing it, forcing it won't make sense" and "A spade is a spade/ ace is an ace" and "Don't make ill informed guesses" all were

Now this part:

"Union has happened , yet to on the physical"

Gave me some hints thankfully because he straight up said no more hints.

This ties back into the whole Jupiter thing too. The seeds are/ have been planted and now they have to grow before they can be harvested.

Well Mr. Yoongi, I'm impatient and I don't want to wait. I want to see you in love pronto.

Anyways

He showed me a little dream box/ trinket box looking thing and a super vague Keychain with no further explanation... so... there's that I guess.

I can't quite decide if "Don't make ill informed guesses" was a tongue-in-cheek pike at me or if it was genuine advice to his soulmate? He just loves to not explain things.

Now let's begin the monster read.

So. The first row of cards

I asked the question, "what the fuck was May 13th and what was it's purpose in regards to your connection"

Important is what it was lol. I interpret this as them finding their footing and this being the starting point of the genuine foundation being layer. Like they've been manifesting eachother for a while but May 13th marked the start of them making the real life changes in their actual lives that will be the set up for them meeting.

The seven of coins is about thoughtful planning and creating security/ stable plan. The tower is essentially ripping away anything and everything that was built on unstable foundation and challenging/ testing your character (an extremely rude awakeing if you will). Judgement is releasing the past so you can rise above it and confronting yourself as you are (Also legit awakening) the queen of coins is financial security and self confidence in your abilities. Ten of coins is prosperity and abundance and most of all, stability. Eight of wands is explosion of potential and rapid movement. Temperance is awareness and balance between physical and spiritual. It's also that quiet peace where you find balance.

So. Seeing all those cards it really does seem like maybe his soulmate took on something new that could lead straight to union? Same for yoongi. I'd like to analyze and recent or new-ish habits or hobbies he's picked up?

Moving right along though. I asked what the 13th did for each of them in their personal life and personal journey. Kinda like what came as a result of that energy? Let's start with yoongles

This was really intresting to me. I think he definitely gained some form of clarity about the situation with that sun card. The 5 of cups tells me that either he was kinda forced to confront some of his flaws in a way that he was trying to avoid or he had to consciously let go of something dear to him? Could be something he had to leave behind because it crumbled with the tower moment but he didn't see it coming or didn't know that it was time to part with it? With that queen of wands though fits beautifully with the sun! Its like he's found warmth after a long winter. Definitely found a spark of compassion and generosity from a place of happiness and love rather than anger, fear, obligation or pitty.

I asked for clarity cards/ anything else that may 13th signified bringing in and we got the 2 of cups and 10 of swords. I have two thoughts. Either he let go of a relationship that he was already in because he didn't feel as though they were particularly compatible anymore (Also ties into the above section) OR the 13th had made him very much consciously aware of his soulmates incoming status and he is now preparing and working on himself for when this person comes. The 10 of swords would be him releasing the past and the pain and any ill fitting behavior that don't vibe with him any longer. Yellow really seems to be working for him by the way.

Soulmate time

Lol. All signs point to his soulmate genuinely starting a new venture. New creative pursuit that will bring them good money. 10 of pentacles is abundance, prosperity and stability. The ace of wands is a new creative spark and passion and it's the first big steps into something new. The 2 of wands is "the world is in the palm of your hands" vibes. Choices need to be made swiftly and with the ace of wands I think they will be. With the heirophant too, it will be a well informed decision because they've been manifesting this and has been searching for all the possible information.

As for clarity, we have the moon. Damn. Soulmates been doing that shadow work. Dredging up all their bullshit and getting rid of it while still taking the time to sit with it and release it so nothing is unresolved. Also probably extra creative due to all the emotional baggage being thrown out. (Definitely helping with the ace of wands vibes tbh)

Now for the bad boys in the middle

The question I asked is what those individual changes (detailed in the last two sections) will bring for the bond and I just can with them. These fuckers. I am so invested in their love story bc it's so... them? And just so fucking ROMANTIC. UGH I CAN'T.

Back to the point. High priestess, 4 of wands and the lovers. The high priestess is deep knowing and insane intuition, the 4 of wands is the purest joy and marriage and the lovers is well, the lovers.a magical union.

FUCK DUDE I NEED THIS TO BE A ROMCOM.

For the row of bottom cards

I asked if they had anything at all to add so I'm gonna explain each card individually bc I think they could be individual tid bits of shit.

Knight of coins is good news about finances/ money looking promising and organized work (also dependability!!). Death is all about transformation, the beginning of a new chapter and accepting in order to move foward. Ace of coins is spiritual and material abundance and also a reminder to keep grounded. Page of swords is confidence, important news coming and really good insight! Roots out secrets or hidden things like a truffle pig. The star is promising potential, healing and guidance from an enexpected place. The two of cups is a soul connection, love, intuition especially in regards to another person and a good bind. The emperor is self awareness, foresight, fearlessness to achieve a goal and confidence. Eight of coins rev is poor discipline and skating by on low effort.

Now to the sides!

Yoongi is the left, soulmate is the right.

So, let's begin with yoongi. The first two cards are anything he wants to say to his soulmate. Wheel of fortune and three of swords reverse. I take this as "its all in divine time/ it's destiny" (wheel of fortune) and "trust your intuition. It's okay to get hurt, you just need to remember you can always pick yourself up" (3of swords rev.)

We have now cards that I asked what he was learning through this process/ in this time. Be positive and first step.

The last two cards are affirmations he wants to give his soulmate.

"When I introduce joy to a situation, I change the vibrational frequency of what's happening around me" and "directing my focus onto what's thriving creates more of what I want"

Now for soulmates cards (same structure)

Strength and eight of swords. "You're stronger than you think. Take every part of yourself and acknowledge it. You're a force to be reckoned with" (strength) and (soulmate snapped at him on this) "the only thing holding you captive is you."

Now we have peer pressure (I think soulmate is learning to say "fuck you" and "fuck off" to people who have a set idea of how everyone should be living their lives), emotional healing and open your arms to receiving.

Then we have "its good to feel good" (lol I feel like yoongi definitely needs this one) and "when I connect to the spiritual realm, I open the door to recieve divine guidance, clear direction, and great wisdom"

The last stretch my friends.

So. Completion, leave behind the things that no longer serve you. Exist in the present and don't keep mulling over the past or any future happenings. Magic, pay attention to the magic around you. Listen for the signs of the universe and take them as they come (essentially listen to divine guidance) . Be open minded but logical as well. Luminous warrior, try focusing on the good in yourself instead of berating yourself for every small flaw. Spiritual path, self explanatory. The blade, your power can be a weapon when used willy nilly (most often wounding the wielder) or it can heal. Don't fear it but also consider how you choose to utilize it. The give away, be greaful for the sake of being greatful for it, not because you want something in return. The rain maker, manifestation station. Create with the tools you have because you have everything you need in order to manifest. "Don't take life personally"

Now we have heaven sent.

""Let yourself be helped" assistance is coming your way so act on it and say yes"

" This Oracle also comes with the message that you are to trust in the things that you feel and say to others without knowing why. It moves them. You might not understand, but through trust you are allowing yourself not to overthink and censor yourself. As such you are able to become a vessel through which the spiritual gift can be passed on to others. Don't block yourself. Let life happen through you. Only benefit can come from this."

And free from judgment, free to love

" If you have been asking life for a solution to a specific difficulty you have been having, this Oracle comes with the message that a solution is in gestation right now. This situation is already being sorted out and the resolution will come to fruition very soon. Hold tight and wait for the eminent birth of that resolution."

" This Oracle also brings you a message about love. You may find that you are loving, or soon will love, in a different way. You may worry about this love, given that it defies what you have known or been taught about love. Perhaps you are becoming able to love another tremendously, even though you don't have much of a personal relationship with them. You might question if this love is real. It is real Kama it is just happening at a different level to the love and attachment you experience when you are involved in a personal relationship with someone. It is not more or less, it is just a different facet of love. It may be that you are opening up to love the planet and her creatures, including the animals, the ocean dwelling life, your own body, the trees and so on, more than before period you may feel passionately purposeful about giving your time and energy to causes that protect and nurture the Earth and her creatures. You are affirmed in this love too. The universal mother is operating through you to nurture life. She will support you in your work, so that you can continue To come from love and not become drained, depleted or lost in despair or fear of futility. Instead, you will be energised and expanded by your dedicated service to life."

" Finally, this Oracle has a message for those who may be feeling alone or lonely in a need of greater nurturing from others. You are asked to stop, relax, centre and settle into your body to feel your connection with life itself. The air in your lungs is the same as the air that moves through the trees. The water in your blood is the same water that fills the oceans and is moved by the phases of the moon. The flesh of your body is the same substance as the body of the Earth itself. The heat in your digestive system is the same fire and heat as that from the Sun. Feel this connection, then do something nice for another without agenda. Make a donation, even if just a small one, smile, say a prayer, sent out a good thought or make a wish for another. That's it. You have connected to life again and in doing so, life can connect with you. And so it shall.

And that's all for the cards but but but.

Someone (either my guide or yoongi) was like, "do a song. Do a song. Do a song." And I was like, "oki doki, sounds good.

So I asked what numbers I should try refreshing and then it hit me. The number 14 came up before the reading and it seemed a bit misplaced? So I did 14 shuffles and look what popped up

You gotta be fucking with me.

Istg these fools will actually be the death of me dude. Euphoria is so romantic and I lowkey feels like it describes a bit of what their bond must be like.

YOONGGGIIII

Anyway,

I came back to the platform to be like, "thanks homie" and it was weird bc he was practically pure energy? Like usually I visualize his energy as what his physical body looks like because it's easier to comprehend? But nope, he was just a big shimmery glob of energy.

As I was going to disconnect, a few things happened. I felt tingly and the platform was vibrating almost? So I was like, "hold on, what the fuck is this?"

And then

It hit me

"MIN YOONGI IS YOUR SOULMATE HERE??"

I could tell this fuckin asshole was smug even in his blue glob form.

The color was... blue like yoongi but also a light lavender/ pink kinda vibe. Pretty damn distinct.

I was so stoked and I thought we'd all get to chat and I could yell at his soulmate for being an elusive asshat

But Mr smug butt had different plans.

My dude dropped a little marble thing in my hand and I was like ??? And he was like, "you'll know when you need it" and I was like ?????

My guide took pity on me and said, "it's just a representation on information that you've been given but it isn't the proper time to unpack it yet"

Cool cool so like and energetic zip file that will release itself whenever it damn well pleases? Cool cool cool.

(Asshole)

Anyway, I genuinely think that my excitement of this whole situation must somehow also influence how yoongis energy handles my prodding? Like what the fuck is this marble bullshit?

To top it all off, he gives me a friendly shove off of his platform.

Thanks, buddy.

Now we are here. And as always, I'm left with more questions.

My main take away is that amay 13th through July 28th will be all the foundation and ground work and December 28th 2021 through May 10th (11th? 9th?) 2022 will be a more likely time for physical union and actual relationship stuffs.

Anyone who knows more about astrology please feel free to chime in on this whole Jupiter in Pisces bit! My understanding is super surface level!!

~~~~

That was a big boi and now my thumbs hurt real bad. Hope you were entertained by the chaos.

#bts #bts tarot #bts reactions #yoongi #bts imagines #bts readings #yoongi imagine #bts suga #min suga #suga #min yoongi

128 notes · View notes

goji-pilled · 3 years ago

Text

Okay @princekirijo you want an essay? Well here it is now, or as I like to call it Felix's "Asumari is great and this fandom has no fucking taste" rambling and infodump. Congrats fellas, thanks to Prince you ALL get an asumari essay. But before that I'll try to give you a rundown of Mari and Asuka.

(I'm also so sorry for putting this long ass post on everyone's dashboard)

(Spoiler warning for Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time!!)

Alright on one hand we have Mari Illustrious Makinami. Her whole deal? She's a walking ray of sunshine, literally lol. Unlike any other character in the Evangelion franchise she doesn't suffer from her trauma, she's quite literally the only healthy and functioning human being, she's just slightly leaning towards "batshit crazy" with the stunts she pulls 🤷‍♂️. Other than that she just loves living, she loves being with people, she keeps moving forward, stays positive and decides to live life to it's fullest even after she experiences loss and multiple apocalyptic events (Second Impact, Third Impact, etc.) and she really just embodies the joy of living. That's all there is to her, or at least all we know.

On the other hand, we have Asuka Langley Shikinami who is... well it's hard to explain what she is to be honest. She's part-German and part-Japanese and part of a line of clones specifically made with the purpose to pilot an Evangelion and later on be used as a sacrifice to trigger another Impact (ITS COMPLICATED I KNOW-) Asuka is, unlike Mari, very much suffering from her trauma. She doesn't have her parents and has a very deep seated belief that she's completely alone, which she says doesn't matter as long as she can pilot the Eva. She also very much wants to fight and kill angels all by herself, and it's seriously messing with her when she can't achieve that.

Now we get to the more interesting parts (hopefully this so far wasn't too confusing, then again it's Eva and even I can't fully wrap my head around it all LMAO)

In the second Rebuild movie (Evangelion 2.0 You can (not) advance) we get introduced to both of them, Mari's introduction scene (in the original English dub) has her pilot an Eva and singing about how she'll take the world on by herself, while in the third movie's (Evangelion 3.0 You can (not) redo) opening scene she's piloting the Eva again but this time it's together with Asuka (in her own Unit 02 though) and during that Mari sings about how wonderful it is not to be alone. It's nothing big yet, but it's a really cute detail me thinks,,, you know what else I love about them? They bicker and they banter and it's genuinely so fun to listen to shskdhsuwj

(For a quick catch up: During the end of 2.0 Shinji (the protagonist) triggers another apocalyptic event, the Near Third Impact, and was only stopped due to Kaworu (the guy in my pfp) stepping in. Also between 1.0/2.0 and 3.0/3.0+1.0 are about 14 years (without Shinji bc he's like comatose) where A LOT happens AND we learn in 3.0 that Eva pilots don't age physically bc of "The curse of the Eva"... honestly Eva is wild lmao)

Okay okay I'll get back to it!

So one thing that happens is that Asuka during 2.0 develops a crush on Shinji (girl why-), unfortunately things take a turn for the worse. Asuka had volunteered to be the testpilot for a new Eva (Unit 03), she seemed happy at the time and it was a really sweet build up with the "I can smile, I didn't know I could still do that."-line. And then? Then it turns out the Ninth Angel had infected Unit 03 (Angels are basically the Kaijus they fight using Evas btw). The thing goes on a loose and Shinji is forced to fight it (With Asuka inside mind you), he refuses and his father uses an autopilot to destroy Unit 03. And boy did it destroy the angel, well it and it crushed Asuka between its jaws (you can actually hear her scream btw haha pain :)).

Asuka survived though, but the whole incident cost her her humanity and she ended up becoming an angel herself/she took the place of the Ninth. But despite that, there's one person who keeps believing in Asuka's humanity, who fiercely believes Asuka is still a human and tells her as much.

Yep, that one person is Mari and she keeps holding onto that belief until the very end when Asuka uses her last resort, which is using the power of an angel (Doing so was a guaranteed death sentence btw). Mari's own words (in the German dub) were, "Princess, you're giving up being human…" AND IT MAKES ME SO EMO GOD FUCK

While I'm at it, Mari and Asuka are a fucking killer combo as a team. They rely on each other for support in combat, listen to the other's orders and advice. Especially in Asuka's case it's kind of a big deal that she so openly relies and counts on Mari's support. Like these two trust each other with their damn lifes!!! Holy shit!!

Guess what though, they also have nicknames for eachother. Mari always calls Asuka "Princess" or "(Your) Highness" while Asuka calles Mari "Four-eyes" / "Four-eyed chrony (idk how you spell that tbh RIP" Even better though, in the German dub Asuka calls Mari "Brillerella" as in a combination of "Brille" (German for glasses) and "Cinderella",,,,Cinderella and her Prince,,,Brillerella and her Princess,,, man, that was a gay fucking move of the translation team. Spoiler: I owe them my life.

Funfact: There's exactly two times throughout the Rebuild movies where Mari uses Asuka's actual name. These two times being when she watches Asuka "die" and be used as a sacrifice for Gendo's selfish plan and when later on she begs Shinji, "So please the Princess… Asuka needs your help!" And the best part? That wasn't even the first time she did that. The mentioned line came from 3.0+1.0, but she did that too in 3.0 with the, "At least save the Princess!" line (although her tone was much more...pissed, like she was really angry lol)

Remember the crush Asuka had on Shinji? Well due to the Unit 03 incident a whole lot of other shit got mixed into that and her feelings for him in general became really bitter (understandably so). Now Mari being who she is sometimes teases Asuka about said old crush but she really does want Asuka to get closure and sort that mess out.

As an example for the teasing, in 3.0 there's a scene that goes like this (please imagine Mari with a literal :3 face while saying that):

"Unit! Are you back in the game?"

"I'm on it, your Highness. But first things first, how was our little puppy (Shinji)? Did he sit like a good little boy?"

"He's exactly the same! Same stupid face talking mayhem!"

"That goofy face of his, that's what you wanted to see? Riiiiight?"

"Shut up! I went there to bat him one!... And I feel better!"

There's also a very short bonus manga that was released in Japan for Thrice Upon a Time's release that has Mari trying to convince Asuka to come with her on the mission to get Shinji, given everything that follows, it's just another thing to prove my point. And the final bit relating to that is this:

"Feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I do feel better."

That's the exchange Asuka and Mari have after they talked to Shinji, it's nothing special but I think it's really sweet and this time Asuka actually sounded like she was feeling better instead of when she was screaming after she nearly broke pretty thick glass with her fist (If she had hit someone with that much force she definitely would've broken something omggg #violentimpulsesgang)

To get back on track though: I already mentioned it but during the second half of 3.0+1.0 Asuka "dies" (and honestly that entire scene is worth its own in-depth post because its just one huge parallel to The End of Evangelion), the point is: You can tell that the loss of Asuka honestly hits Mari hard. Not only because of how Mari screams Asuka's name but also because of her expressions. They're pained, like really fucking pained and Mari even apologizes to her that she has to fall back due to the fact that she's injured AND because eveything is going wrong.

After the events of Evangelion 3.0 these two got seperated from eachother, Mari was with WILLE (the organization both of them are with) and on board of Wunder (the ship WILLE basically operates from) while Asuka was in a Village full of (Near) Third Impact Survivors. When they do meet again it went like this:

Asuka, barely back, comes to the door and calls, "I'm back." And within seconds of Asuka stepping into their room after the door opens Mari already runs towards her, arms wide open and she says, "Welcome back, your Highness! Good job. I missed you so much!" And she says that while she literally nuzzles into Asuka,,,like,,,what the fuck gay people real!!!

Best part? Asuka clearly has enough strength to push Mari completely away if she were uncomfortable, but she doesn't. Asuka merely wanted enough space to look at the room (because Mari managed to horde even more books lol) and play her game. During their entire renunion Mari keeps hugging her, and part of me thinks that perhaps deep down Asuka actually enjoys the feeling of physical affection.

Before we get to the last point though, let me say that Asuka and Mari have scenes in 3.0+1.0 that parallel Shinji and Kaworu's from 3.0. (Fyi Kaworu loves Shinji (yeah, like that, and 3.0 was basically them being gay as fuck for an hour) so like...do I even need to explain?

And then of course there's also this, the "Take care of yourself, Princess…" line. That is the last time Mari talks to Asuka and as much as that line alone already is so much, it's Mari's expression in particular that kills me. Because this? This soft, almost bittersweet expression she has, as she basically says goodbye? Because she knows Asuka will finally be happy and safe? It just makes me feel so much actually. Man.

In the end it's a fact that Mari loved Asuka, wether that is interpreted as platonic or romantic by someone is up to them. But it is a fact that Asuka was loved enough that someone wanted to hug her, was happy to see her, to praise her, was hurt by her loss, wanted her to be safe, that someone told her "Take care of yourself…" Asuka was really and honestly so loved that someone would tell her, "I missed you."

But Asuka? Asuka was too hurt, too wrapped up in her own head to actually see how loved she was by Mari (and other people) that she genuinely believed she's completely alone and always will be alone.

It makes the "Take care of yourself" line hit even harder to me, because it's not only Mari's goodbye, but it's a goodbye during the one time Asuka allowed herself to be vulnerable and admit what she really wanted.

And honestly? All of this? Its makes me feel so many things and I just love them so much man.

#the felix talk #IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #HDMSGDMDGSJSGEH #3.0+1.0 spoilers

40 notes · View notes

kpopcrockpot · 3 years ago

Text

Making Out With Victon (headcanons)

NSFW mentions/language, 18+ only!

Proofed by @bfsubin, go follow her and fall in love just like I did 🥰

Seungwoo

Confidence meets passion

Seungwoo usually initiates a good makeout on a whim

You shoot him a look and it hits him like a brick, or, he’s had long day and just wants to clear his mind

Or maybe you just look extra nice that day

He’ll walk over, smiling confidently at you, and grabs your face to kiss you firmly

He’s very good at turning himself into a distraction, and you’ll abandon whatever task you were doing

The man immediately needs you straddling him, like he’ll die if you don’t

That said, he’s the most likely of the group to escalate a makeout session into something a little more...gratifying

Maybe he holds you by the hips, using your body to put pressure on himself

He loves running his hands up your back, under your shirt, while you grind on him

A little groan escapes him when you tug at his hair, but he doesn’t stop

Because he’s a really good kisser, and he knows it

He really likes it when you squeeze at his biceps, because he prides himself on his fitness and he likes knowing that you notice it too

And if you both come just from grinding? Whoops lol

You’ll just change clothes, put on a movie, and probably make out some more

Seungsik

Passionate but gentle, and is anyone surprised?

Has the softest lips, sorry I don’t make the rules

It’s cool if you straddle him or if he’s lying between your legs

But Sik’s favorite is when you rest your legs over the tops of his so that you’re sideways in his lap, comfy and warm on the couch

He can rest an arm around your waist and cup your face with his free hand

Most likely to talk in between kisses, in a soft whisper, with love in his eyes

“You’re the most beautiful.” “I love you so much.” “I’m so happy you could come over.”

He doesn’t need to mark you or tease you at all to enjoy your time together

Seungsik exists only in the moment, drinking in every detail

His hands are slow and gentle wherever they land, but usually one of them is by your face

If the kissing gets more urgent, he’ll slide a hand along your neck and into your hair, tugging so gently that it’s almost a massage

Even his tongue swiping across your lips feels like an action full of love and care

But you’re eventually overtaken by the excitement, the exhilaration of the sheer closeness, and the kiss gets more intense

Seungsik brings you back down to Earth every once in a while, sliding his thumb between your mouths and tracing your lips as he pulls away to breathe

Just watching how they’re parted for him, and being in disbelief that he can kiss them whenever he wants

Chan

Most likely to secretly be a master at making out

He knows how to kiss you just the right way to make you breathless

Once he’s comfortable with you, he gets bold about initiating

Even if you’re minding your business sitting next to him, all it takes is for him to reach over and touch your jaw to make you look at him

He closes the distance in seconds, covering your mouth with his own

If you respond positively, his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in a bit more firmly

After Seungsik, he’s the most likely to not use tongue right away

There are other ways to make a kiss more intense, and he likes to build up to it

Slow, deliberate movements where he’s gauging your reaction

Firmly pressing his lips to the soft skin of your neck, tilting your chin up with the same hand on your jaw

Probably bites when he’s worked up bc he gets ahead of himself

If you suck in a sharp breath when his teeth meet your skin, he stops right away and looks at you with wide eyes

If you tell him to do it again, he smiles and does as he’s told

If kissing you dizzy is a game, then he’s winning

Sejun

We all know by now that Sejun is a hot mess, and notoriously clumsy

For this reason, he’s okay with you taking control during makeouts

He’ll let you tip him onto his back, totally gleeful to be ridden

Neck kisses neck kisses neck kisses

Doesn’t matter if it’s giving or receiving, somebody’s mouth better be on somebody’s neck

He’s definitely the one that’s most likely to get handsy right away

Fingers searching up your sides while you’re kissing, or holding your ass

Sejun can be mischievous at times, so he probably enjoys inconveniencing you with his kisses

Kissing the side of your neck while you’re working, or (more often) stealing ingredients while you’re cooking

There have been at least two occasions of something burning on the stove while you and Sejun make out on the counter nearby

RIP the cookies you were baking, but you can’t say no to Sejun and he knows it

His favorite thing is when you run your hands down his front, nails catching lightly on the fabric of his shirt

It sends tingles down his spine and just eggs him on even more

If you have to leave for work, or push him away so he can go to practice, he pouts until you promise to kiss him some more when you’re both home again

Hanse

Besides Seungwoo, Hanse is the most likely to escalate a makeout session quickly, whether intentionally or not

He’ll hold you to the kiss with a hand firm on the back of your neck, and the other on your ass or thigh

Little nips at your lower lip, squeezing any bare piece of skin he can reach

His boldness only spurs on your own, giving you the confidence to be adventurous

He shivers the first time you catch his piercing between your teeth and tug on it gently

The look Hanse gives you is dark, but his hands tighten on your waist in a clear signal: do it again.

Each time you do it, he squeezes at you harder

But the little groans escaping him are like music, so you don’t stop

He leaves finger-shaped bruises on your thighs, and they hurt in the best way

Let’s be honest, makeouts with Hanse usually end up turning into more nsfw activities

You’re a pair of chronic hedonists, chasing that good feeling together

But even if all you do is makeout, there’s still something satisfying about it

Cause Hanse is hot, and he knows how to make you feel hot, too

Byungchan

This sweet precious dude is just happy to be there

Probably likes to lay on top of you, between your legs, just for the extra closeness of it

Plus he very much enjoys being taller than you, and this position only adds to it

Most likely to giggle if you bump noses, or if your hair gets in his mouth

But his hands are steady on your waist, giving gentle squeezes

He will whine at you if you suck too harshly on his neck

But has no problem making you whine, too

Don’t let his goofy, clumsy demeanor fool you--he’s absolutely marking you up

Man’s a Scorpio after all

He gets a kick out of making it evident that you’re with him, especially if it’s a hickey in a place that will be difficult to cover up

Making out doesn’t have to end a certain way for him--he just likes being close to you

He does tend to get distracted during regular activities, though

So you’ve had to rewind a few movies to actually watch them, because Byungchan derailed Movie Night with his puppy eyes and pretty lips

He’s a loveable disaster, so you’ve inevitably been caught making out at the dorms

Neither of you will ever live it down, but oh well

Have you seen the man? It’s worth it

Subin

Subin’s brand of kissing: Little Shit meets Confident King

He’s got no problem initiating a makeout session, but he enjoys it more when you come to him first

He loves it when you put yourself in his lap, because it makes him feel like a man

More importantly, it reminds him that you want him, and he feels so lucky every time you drape yourself over him

Teases you with his lips because he knows he can get away with it

You know, moving back when you go to kiss him, smirking as you pout

And it makes you chase after his mouth with your own, which boosts his ego even more

Pulls your hair so he can get to your neck, instead of just asking you to move, because he’s rude like that

If you get too eager in the kiss, he’d bite your lip with a smirk just to let you know he’s amused by your enthusiasm

Getting even more smug when you start shifting in his lap, because he knows you want him and that makes him feel like he’s ten feet tall

Probably the kind of guy that would take your underwear after a quickie and keep them in his pocket for the rest of the day

You’ll get them back that night, but not until after he makes you work for it

Dangling them over your head, he only hands them back to you after demanding a kiss, which you give him with a roll of the eyes as he grins smugly

#victon #victon writing #victon headcanons #victon hcs #my writing #seungwoo #seungsik #hanse #byungchan #heo chan #chan #sejun #subin #kpop

57 notes · View notes

footballxwrites · 3 years ago

Note

PLEASE I LOVE YOUR WRITING!! A TAA one but being hendos little sister and finding out about dads cancer, so you cling to Jordan and it starts to bug Trent and you argue bc you still haven't told him? Then maybe hendo tells him?

This doesn’t really mention cancer as such because I know it’s a sensitive topic that many people are/have been affected by in some sort of way, including me x

“Alright don’t bite my head off” he sighed, taken aback by your sudden spark of sharpness for the third time already this week, “well you shouldn’t be so bloody nosy and in my business” you snapped as he just stared in disbelief not really knowing a reply to that. “Christ sorry I care about you, how rude of me” he flashed a smile in a sarky manner, making you get more annoyed by the minute, “oh just fuck off will you Trent, I can’t be arsed for this tonight” you whined, running a stressed hand through your hair before leaving the room. “Seriously what is your problem and why are you having a go at me because I’m pretty sure I’ve done nothing to get in your bad books” he quickly followed behind, not holding up an easy fight to which tears were pricking your eyes at this point, “look I’m not having a go, I’m just tired and don’t want to argue with you yet again. I don’t understand why you won’t listen to me when I keep saying there is NO such thing the matter” you challenged in a slight raised voice.

“So tell me why you’re never here these days and always at Jord’s where you “stay over for a night” which ends up turning into four? Then every time I phone just to check up on you I’m apparently the clingy, needy boyfriend who can’t give you any space and so you don’t answer my calls or simple texts...you really expect me to believe you’re fine?” he said, his tone softening as he crept closer to you, moving to pull you in for hug to which you shrugged off. “I can’t do this right now Trent, think what you want but I’m absolutely fine ok” you shifted away from his touch and shoved on your coat and trainers before heading for the door, “where are you going now, oh let me guess your brother’s” he joked, feeling hurt to see you just walk out on him like that, “I’ll be back soon” you sighed, walking out and letting the door edge closed behind, leaving your boyfriend confused and broken as ever.

————————————

“So how’s she holding up then, my sis” Hendo’s thick accent came from the near distance as he strolled out onto the training pitch with T, who was still a moody arse, “funny you should ask that because I wouldn’t know mate, she’s never home anymore” he sighed, Ox pulling the most confused expression, “sounds like you’d are going through a rough patch eh” he interrupted.

“Guess so, it’s just so fucking annoying because I don’t know why she’s being like this. Honestly we argue every time we meet one another’s gaze at the minute and gods know what the reason is” Trent replied, frustrated with the pair of yous. “Oh shit she hasn’t told you...She promised she would the day we found out” Hendo sadly smiled, leaving the other two lads in a worry. “What are you talking about?” your fella hastily asked, “I was going to let her tell you for herself, it’s probably better coming from her...but nonetheless. Dad’s quite ill and it’s just taken us by surprise to be honest, it’s nothing we could’ve prepared for and it’s taken it out of the family, massively” he began, T clicking into sudden realisation.

“Please just bare with her she’s a stubborn one at times, but as much as she says she needs her space, she needs all the support she can get from all of us right now” he sniffled, “I’m so sorry bro, god I feel like such a shit person. How didn’t I fucking realise of course it had to be something big, she’s never been like this before” Trent’s heart was being ripped apart at the through of his girl alone suffering by herself.

——————————

“Is it safe to come in” your boyfriend whispered, gently peaking his head into the room as you sobbed a ‘yes’ before he crept into the silent room where you were lying in bed in a pool full of tissues, “I am sorry for walking out again” you sobbed, turning to face him in bed, the fresh tear stains evidently dripping down your cheek. “Don’t apologise you have nothing to be sorry about baby” he lightly kissed the top of your head before engulfing your figure into his bare arms, “Jordan told me” he whispered into your hair as you voice went all trembly, “I was going to tell you I swear, I just didn’t know how to tell something like that...don’t think I want to say it out loud, gets the tears going when I mention it” you tired to joke, presenting him a soft grin as you gazed into his hazel eyes. “Hey it’s ok, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I need you to know I’m here for you and all the family and that I want to help in any way I can alright” he promised as you nodded before letting out a sleepy nod and drifting off to sleep on his chest 🤍

#football #footballer #football blurb #footballer imagine #trent alexander arnold #liverpool fc

36 notes · View notes

desiraypark · 4 years ago

Text

Take What You Want

Characters: !CEO Ben Solo x Plus Size Female Reader Setting: Alternate/Modern Universe Summary/Content Warning: Fuckin’. On a boat. Unprotected PIV sex (assume you’re on BC, or don’t!), oral sex (female receiving). Reader is a bit insecure about her appearance but I worked to avoid the whole “woman doesn’t like how she looks, a MANLY MAN-MAN says HE likes it, therefore a lifetime of hurt disappears in seconds YAY!” trope lol. Ben just wants to fuck you in front of the ocean, okay?

*Use of “Ben Solo” is more so to establish his legacy/bloodline, not necessarily his character/personality or anything like that. BEN’S YACHT (Video: 00:15 is where you’re sitting) - I don’t know if I got the terminology right but who cares, let’s get to the bangin’.

The past five months had been...Interesting. Different. Thrilling. Perfect. Almost, too perfect--but you didn’t fight it.

It was during the second week of January when you strolled through the cool, bland, and dull-lit spaces of Dice6, LLC.--all the way to the conference room where its young CEO, Ben Solo, sat at the head of the table. The receptionist led you inside. You shook his hand and sat two seats to his right. He asked very few questions and listened intently to your answers. Or so you assumed.

Barely five minutes into the interview, he closed your folder, leaned back in his seat, and looked you over.

“I’m not hiring you,” he said.

“Oh...okay...” you’d responded, confused and disappointed.

“I’m going to take you on a date.”

“...excuse me?”

“Why did you apply for this job?” he asked.

“Um, because this is a reputable com--”

“What do you need money for? Do you have a new place? New to the city?”

“I just...I want a well-paying job to survive, Sir...”

He leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“I’ve got a feeling about you,” he said. He crossed his leg over the other. “I always listen to my instincts. How would you like to survive and thrive on my bank account?”

You freaked out and excused yourself from the interview. Of course, he gave you a call that you ignored. The next day, you got an email reminder about your soon-to-be due student loan payment, and well...you went on and called him back.

____________________

“I’ve never been on a yacht before,” you’d told him over the phone.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“What do I wear?”

“Dresses, shorts, bathing suits. Lingerie. Preferably nothing.”

“I’ll have to go shopping, I guess.”

“I’d like to see you in jewel tones. And bright reds. I never see you in red.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You’d sent him pictures of the clothing you’d bought with his money. In his calm abrasiveness, he’d called you and told you that he hated your swimsuits and lingerie. Later, he sent you photos of things he wanted you to wear--lots of things you’d never felt comfortable wearing. Or rather, things other people would make you feel ashamed for wearing. But you took another shopping trip and did your best.

____________________

Ben stood at the door to the outer deck waiting for you. You smiled as he took your hand and led you into the open space for dessert and champagne. The two of you sat close on the plush sofa as you ate a fluffy, strawberry cake and stared out at the sparkling waters.

“Are you enjoying everything?” he asked, breaking the serene silence. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and planted a kiss on his jaw.

“I’m loving it. Thank you for this.”

His eyes didn’t leave you when you pulled away. The pupils were dilated and he was chewing on his lip. You were familiar with that look. Past loves had also signaled their desire to fuck with darkened and narrowed eyes, and working jaws.

Ben traced the outline of your red lips with the tip of his index finger. You parted your lips, signaling for him to place the tip into the small hole that had formed. He smirked and pressed his finger inside and you licked it. He pushed it further, making you suck.

“My dirty girl,” he purred. “Where else do you want my fingers?”

You smiled, took his free hand, and guided it to between your legs. He hummed and grabbed your fleshy mound. Then, he removed his finger from your mouth and replaced it with his lips and hot tongue. When he was satisfied with the amount of your saliva he’d collected, he pushed the small dining table back, knelt to the floor, and lifted your emerald green sundress.

You froze and clamped your thighs shut.

“Shouldn’t we go inside, Ben?”

His hungry eyes met yours. He squeezed the soft fabric between his fingers and proceeded to lift your dress until it stopped at your knees.

“No.”

He placed a hand between your knees to space them apart but you kept them clamped shut.

“What if somebody sees us, Honey?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said with shortness. “I’m not waiting another second to taste you.”

You exhaled. Your clit perked up, but Ben was still. His eyes still on you and the skirt of your dress still scrunched between his fingers.

“I don’t care about your size, Y/N. You know that,” he said.

“I know you don’t,” you started. “But, sometimes, I do.”

Ben released your dress and rubbed your clothed legs. “May I ask a favor of you?”

“Sure, Baby,” you responded, running your fingers through this hair.

“For me--just this one time--let me fuck you right here,” he requested. You swallowed, but before you could speak, he continued. “I want to see your pussy clench when the cool air hits it, then feel it melt when I wrap my lips around your clit...”

He tugged at the skirt of your dress again. “I want to see the sky behind you when I hold your legs in the air.”

Your knees weakened and your ass began to sink into the sofa. Ben pushed your skirt to your thighs and pulled your panties down.

“No more underwear this weekend,” he demanded. He balled your panties up, stood up, leaned over you, and threw them out in the ocean. Then, he fell back to his knees and pushed your heavy legs back.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you fell back on the sofa. You jumped at the feeling of cool air on your moistening pussy and bare thighs. Ben rubbed his fingers up and down your ass and reached up to pull the sandals off your feet.

“I want to see how your skin glows under a sunset when I’m making you come...”

Ben gripped the back of your right knee with his left hand and rubbed circles over your ever-spreading labia with the pads of his right fingers. You moaned for him--moaned for yourself. Your mind relaxed as your nipples awakened.

“Is your pussy as juicy as it looks?” he asked.

You threw your head back, now a complete goner. Suddenly, you felt a quick sting on your pussy lips, making you gasp. Your head shot up and you looked beyond your belly and into Ben’s fierce eyes.

“Answer me.”

You nodded profusely. “Yes, Baby. It is. Get a taste, Baby. Please.”

“Mmm...” he said, his index and middle fingers retreating from the others to rub deep into your slit--the crevice keeping your plush pussy lips together slowly drifted apart as your clit poked through them. He slid the two fingers over your wet clit--the insides of his digits stroking the soft bud, and the outsides stroking the warm inner flesh of your labia. Finally, he turned his palm up, pushed his middle finger inside of your welcoming hole, and trailed the very tip of his tongue from your opening to the pointed end of your edible rose.

“Oh, God...” you whispered.

Ben took his time--licking every centimeter of your delicious pussy--slurping, sucking, smelling--burying his nose inside to get it sticky. You were helpless under him--pussy melting, ass cheeks sticking together with sweat and arousal. Ben would look up to see your contorted face--your breasts jiggling every time you moaned or groaned. He glanced at the orange sun setting behind you, smiled, and returned his focus to his task. When you grabbed his hair, he pulled away.

“I want your first orgasm from me to be on my dick,” he said, unbuttoning his pants. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him. Once Ben’s pants and boxers were on the floor, he sat on the sofa and gestured for you to come toward him. “Get on top.”

You froze again.

“Ben, I don’t--”

Suddenly, his long arm reached out and his hand was around your wrist. He yanked you close--your face nearly falling into his lap.

“Don’t be disobedient, Princess,” he said. You exhaled, and as fast as you could, climbed onto your knees, hiked up your skirt, and threw your leg over Ben’s lap to straddle him. He alleviated some of your worry by holding your left ass cheek in his hand, and his dick with the other. With his help, you slowly sank on his length. He stared at you the entire way down--patient, but hungry. He seemed to have an aversion to showing too much emotion, but you saw his eyebrows scrunch when your hot walls stretched for him--when he felt just how slick you were.

“That’s it, Gorgeous,” he mumbled. He bit his lip and smacked your ass. “Now, bounce on it. That’s your dick...”

You lifted your hips and fell back down with a pained-but-pleasured moan.

“Give that tight pussy what it needs.”

“Fuck!” you shouted, picking up your pace.

Ben’s hands rested on the bottom of your ass as it jiggled and bounced in the salty, aqueous air. “Shit! Yes! God! Fuck! Ahh!” a chorus of obscenities you sang out to the sky--so loud, so free that the few remaining clouds parted so that the praise of your own pleasure could be heard by the naughty sector of angels.

You covered him in your juices. Your flesh clapped against his. He’d ripped the bust of your dress and licked the sweat off your breasts. You pulled his hair. You called him Baby, he called you Princess. You screamed “yes!” he grabbed your throat to momentarily trap the sound. The heavens couldn’t have all of your “yeses”--your body needed to absorb some of your beautiful sounds, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered--your fingers falling to your clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you shouted as your clit turned to mush under your fingers--gushing and clenching around Ben’s girth. Your head flew back and your eyes crossed as you rode out your wave. When you came to, you recognized Ben’s grazes against your flesh.

After a quick, hot kiss, you climbed off his lap and he bent you over the sofa. He sucked at your juice and swallowed sticky cream. And as you observed the waters part for the heavy boat, you felt your walls part once more. Ben buried himself deep inside of your sensitive pussy and leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“You feel so good,” he said. He dragged out of you and slipped back inside. You turned your head in his direction and he found your lips and kissed you with passion--with fire. Then, he slammed into you repeatedly, chasing his own orgasm. He reached around to rub your clit, hoping to bring you to your second.

“No!” you squealed--squirming away from his touch, but he pressed down harder.

“Yes,” he retorted. “I know you’ve got some more in you. Give me another one.”

Feeling the pressure building inside of you again, you bounced back against Ben’s crotch.

“There you go,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s it. Take what you want, Princess...take what you want...”

Just seconds after you exploded on his fingers and around his rock-hard dick, you felt him pulse inside of you. After a few more strokes, he stilled his movement--and you felt his warm cum spreading around inside of you--filling you up.

Ben collapsed on your back but quickly crashed onto the sofa--as did you. The two of you caught your breath, then you finished your dessert and champagne. When the sky was completely dark, you’d gone back inside of the boat, washed, and changed into warmer clothes. Then, you went back out onto the deck, cuddled on your christened sofa to look at the stars. “I saw you in a dream,” he said out of nowhere.

“Hmm?”

He ran his fingers up and down your arm. “I dreamed about you before I met you. That’s how I knew you were my girl.”

You smiled and felt the urge to break up the sappiness before you started to tear up. “A genius and a psychic. Are you strong with The Force, too?”

Ben smiled--something he rarely did. “Don’t tease me when I’m being sentimental, Princess.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. You gazed into each other’s eyes, then Ben gave you another kiss and pulled you closer to him. ______________________ Thank you to @bluestarego @ellelaconi @xxcatrenxx @millenialcatlady @mariesackler and @clydes-hole for helping me out with this one!

137 notes · View notes

unbridgeabledistances · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: About the 87% scene. Could you write about Mickey lying about having a "boyfriend" when he was in Mexico. And telling Ian that afterall he didn't have his whole Heart because of that "boyfriend". Ian realizing that the way he said those things weren'te the best. Then the confrontation, they talk about it and are cute with one another

anon i am CRYING mickey would 1000% do this!!! why did the writers not make this happen

(actually i’m glad they didn’t, bc these boys don’t need any more drama)

here’s my take (since we all need a little gallavich before the next episode!), hope u enjoy<3

“I guess everyone I’ve been with gets a little piece of my heart”

Mickey froze where he was standing, by the toilet bowl and the dust-covered bathroom shelves, and felt his heart sink. The fuck is he talking about?

“Wait, everyone?”

“Yeah. Yup.” Ian froze for a moment, his toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not everybody. You don’t feel the same way?”

Mickey could almost wince. Fucking Gallagher—didn’t Ian know he was the only guy Mickey had really been with, because Ian was the only one that mattered? Instantly, Mickey thought back to all of the sloppy and excruciatingly boring hookups he’d had with women—back before he came out and was constantly putting on a show, was burying who he really was deep beneath the ground.

Ian looked at him earnestly, toothbrush still half in his mouth, with those steady green eyes Mickey could always get lost in—the only thing keeping Mickey afloat during those darker days, when he felt like everything else was pulling him under. Ian was the only person who had ever made Mickey’s heart race or his palms sweaty, the only fucking person who made Mickey feel like he was here for a reason, no matter what bullshit life threw at him. Ian was the center of Mickey’s existence, and he always had been—how could that asshole not realize that no one else Mickey’d been with could ever compare to him?

“No, I don’t. Y’know what, fuck you” is what Micket wanted to say—he felt the words about to launch off the tip of his tongue. Instead, before he knew what he was doing, Mickey lied.

“Uhhhhh. I guess, man. Y’know, I had that thing down in Mexico with, uh, Julio.” Mickey looked down at his bare feet on the tiled bathroom floor, knowing that Ian would see right through him if he looked directly in his eyes.

Ian’s eyebrows raised in genuine confusion as he leaned over the sink. “Julio? Who the fuck is Julio?” Ian sputtered as he spit out a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

“Were you not listening, smartass? He was my… my lover. I was in Mexico a long time before I snitched on the cartel and threw my life away for your ass.”

Ian stood up and placed his toothbrush in a cup on the shelf above the sink, turning to look at Mickey, who finally raised his gaze from the linoleum. Ian didn’t look hurt, which was what Mickey was aiming for— more than anything, Ian just looked thoroughly confused, and maybe a little bit amused.

“You’ve never mentioned anything about some dude named Julio, Mick. Where’d you meet him?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Gallagher.”

Mickey stormed out of the bathroom, and turned the corner into their bedroom. It was this fucking quarantine, that was the problem—the same way that they were down each other’s throats when they were cramped together in a tiny jail cell. They were so used to the lack of each other that being together always seemed to make a mess of things. Ian didn’t actually mean that he had been in love with other people— right?

People annoyed Mickey, mostly— sex was sex, just another bland part of his bland life of doing runs for his dad, living in his fucked-up household, getting drunk with his brothers. And then one day, Ian came bursting through his door. Mickey would never forget that first time that he and Ian were together— in his opinion, that day probably permanently altered his brain chemistry or some shit. The day that he was laying in bed, woken up by a pale-faced angel whose chest was just as smooth and beautifully pale and freckled as the skin on his face and hands. And Mickey was also covered with skin, that was apparently covered with super-powered nerve endings that hadn’t done a goddamn thing his whole life, but came alive like ice and fire and bee stings as soon as Ian touched him. Wherever Ian touched him.

Sex was just sex to Mickey, for so long—but sex with Ian was on an entirely different plane of existence.

And the thought of Ian being like that with someone else, especially during that time when Mickey was locked up and there was a wall of plexiglass between them, a wall Mickey had put there himself when all he was doing was trying to protect Ian from Sammi’s bullshit; well, it made Mickey’s stomach churn.

Ian followed Mickey out of the bathroom and leaned on the doorframe of their bedroom, like he knew Mickey needed some space. “You and this Julio guy, you were like, together?”

Mickey kept his gaze downward as he put on a wrinkled shirt. “Hell yeah, man. We lived in a shack by the beach, fucked all day long. You don’t know everything about me, Gallagher.”

“I guess not.” Ian mused, still looking like he half didn’t believe Mickey. “So, uh. This Julio guy. You’re saying he has a piece of your heart?”

“Oh yeah, a big ol’ chunk of it. You aren’t special, Gallagher. In fact, he might have a bigger piece than you do, with all the fucking bickering we’ve been doing lately,” Mickey spat out as he pulled on his shoes.

Ian rolled his eyes, but sensing Mickey’s tension, he kept talking. “Mick, you know I didn’t mean it. You have the majority of my heart. The vast majority.”

Mickey scoffed, feeling more pissed off than ever. “Oh, yeah? How much is that, exactly?”

“I don’t know… 87%?”

Mickey looked at Ian, charging up for a fight. “Fuck you. That’s not enough.”

“It is enough, Mick. I’ve been with so many people I can barely remember their names. You know what it was like at the club. That’s 87% for you, and 13% for every other meaningful connection I’ve ever had in the years we were apart—that seems pretty stacked to me.”

“Yeah, well, joke’s on you, motherfucker, because you don’t even have that much of my heart, anyways. In fact, maybe I’ll go back down to fucking Mexico and see if Julio’s still around.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Mick, calm down. You don’t mean that.”

“I do, asshole. Excuse me for thinking I had your whole heart, instead of pissing away 13% of it while I was locked behind bars and tattooing your fucking name onto my chest.” Mickey turned to where Ian was blocking the doorway. “You gonna let me through?”

Ian sighed, gently putting a hand up to Mickey’s chest to stop him from barreling past into the hallway. “Okay, listen, all that shit came out wrong. You know you’re the only one that matters.”

Mickey looked at Ian’s hand on his chest, then looked up and to meet Ian’s gaze. “Do I?” he said, in a softer voice than he realized.

Ian smirked, and let his arms glide up Mickey’s chest and around his shoulders, locking him in close. “Hey. Of course you are. You’re the only one I ever wanted to be with forever.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey said earnestly, but he didn’t try to shake himself from Ian’s grasp.

Ian let his hands roam up to cradle the back of Mickey’s head in his hands, making sure he had Mickey’s undivided attention. “Listen. All those people, like Ned or Kash or whoever, they were all an important part of me becoming who I am, and nothing can change that. But they’re all a part of our love story, Mick. They’re all… minor characters, on the path of me getting to marry you.”

Now Mickey was the one rolling his eyes, his tough exterior finally starting to melt. “Yeah, okay softie.” His eyes flickered downward, in one last moment of vulnerability. “It’s just… it’s hard to forget all the stuff I missed out on, all the time we both coulda had. Time where you were with other people and not me.”

Ian pecked Mickey’s forehead, holding him in close. “Yeah, well, we have plenty of time now. Almost too much time. So much time that we’re ripping each other’s heads off.”

Mickey leaned back, and smirked. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we can do with all that time on our hands, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian leaned in closer, Mickey’s face millimeters from his. “Oh yeah?”

As Mickey leaned in to close the gap between their lips, he felt the nerve endings all over his body going fucking crazy again—maybe it had been a bumpy path for them both, and maybe he’d lost some of Ian along the way, but he couldn’t deny that this was worth the wait.

#ty for the prompt!<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

83 notes · View notes

soullessmocha · 4 years ago

Text

eyes wide open.

{ david the lost boys x reader }

rating: pg-13

word count: 1922

summary: the reader finds themselves in this picture perfect morning. yet with one simple phrase they questions their whole reality. what is really happening with them?

warnings: afab!reader, mind manipulation, false reality, picture perfect family, death, slight gore, pure sadness, soft!david, sad!david, afab reader, some sad sad shit, not proofread bc i wrote this so late at night.

a/n: i had major inspiration to write something for david. i have been watching a lot of wandavision. this show really inspired the plot and the general story of this fic. i hope you do enjoy! i broke my own heart writing this. and no there are no wandavision spoilers in this.

A yelp leaves your lips as two tiny humans graze past you causing you to jolt almost spilling your scalding coffee. “Boys! No running in the kitchen!” You yell to the rambunctious twins as they run around giggling as they chase each other before making their way into the living room. A sigh leaves your lips in relief before the tired smile turns into a warm loving smile as a hand is placed on your waist and a stubbled kiss is placed on your neck. “Good morning,” you greet your husband after putting a hand on the back of his head to which he chuckles. David slowly makes his way to the front of you. “Good morning, I see you didn’t spill your coffee this time.” David’s sly comment causes you to roll your eyes as you set yourself at the kitchen island where a breakfast was waiting for you. “Yes, luckily. You know we need to take Marko and Bruce out more. Get all of that energy out. I don’t know where they get it from.” You state before taking a sip of your warm coffee, the warmth causes you to shiver with satisfaction. An airy laugh bursts through the kitchen, “Ah yes, to be young again.” David teases once again before leaning himself on the kitchen island admiring you from afar with his striking bright eyes . These moments of sweetness weren’t rare but it was rare for you to catch him admiring you and giving you the soft look that reminded you of how much he truly loves you.

A soft smile creeps its way to your lips and you flop your head to the side, feeling the rollers in your hair to catch your head from going any further on your shoulder. “You can say that again.” Another sip of the sweet coffee trails over your tongue and you hear him sight as he also grabs his coffee. “I miss it. Sleeping all day, partying all night…” David trails off as he fills his mouth with coffee, his face being partially blocked by the family portrait mug. You blink at the statement. Why did that strike a cord in your chest? Why did it feel like you’ve heard that before? It was as if your consciousness did a full turn about. You blink a few more times and you can see David notice your sudden distraught state. Subconsciously you look down at your ring finger where two dainty gold rings lay, one with a perfect circle diamond and the other a simple band, symbolizing your marriage to the man of your dreams. Yet you don’t remember anything about the wedding. Why couldn’t you remember your own wedding? Also you couldn’t remember moving into the house. You couldn’t remember giving birth to your own sons.

“Darling?” David asks as he carefully sets down his mug, his expression feigning concern. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” He questions putting a hand on your back and rubbing low slow circles. Almost as if he was trying to ground you and bring you back to this reality. You shake your head, “What you just said-” you start but David only chuckles, “What? Being young again? I mean I’m sorry babe but we aren’t as young as we used to be.” You shake your head and stand pushing his hand away. “No, the other thing,” you start and look around the house carefully, looking at the family portraits from when the boys were newborns to the most recent Halloween photo that was framed perfectly adjacent to the fridge before focusing on your husband, “sleeping all day. Partying all night.” Then suddenly you hear his voice echo in your head and it hits you like a truck. “Never grow old… Never die.” Your words leave your lips in whispers. Suddenly your breathing picks up and your head starts to spin. Your chest heaves with each breath as anxiety and fear starts to fill your senses.

“What are you talking about, honey?” David asks with a seemingly worried and confused expression as he approaches you slowly. “Babe, you need to calm down. Take deep breaths, you’re starting to worry the boys.” he notes as the twins stand at the entrance of the open concept kitchen from the living room.

“No, no, no, don’t tell me to calm down David!” Your voice raises as you put a hand out to signal for him to keep his distance. The boys looked worried as well, almost as if you were scaring them. Were they even your kids? Are they a part of you? “Mom? Are you okay?” Marko, a little blonde boy asks you with wide eyes while his darker haired counterpart hid quietly behind him. “Go play outside sweetie, please.” You choke out as the boys hesitantly leave the kitchen hand in hand. David sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose starting to give up but he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction. As the boys leave you point towards them with a shaking hand. You didn’t notice your whole body was trembling as memories flush to your mind overwhelming you. “David, wha- why- why can’t I remember anything?”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t start this. It’s too early in the morning for this.” David complains as he rests a hand on his hip of his neat chinos and white pristine button up shirt. He was dress as if he was ready for his 9-5 office job. Then the memories started to clash before your eyes. The bleached mullet, the gloves, the black trench coat. Yet here he was in front of you wearing a neat button up shirt with slacks and a brown belt. His hair was short and moving freely, no longer constricted by gel. “The boys? You can’t- I mean I can’t- We can’t do that!” You say in a loud tone and David tenses, his eyes slowly getting darker with each word you talk. “I don’t remember us getting married David! I don’t remember the birth of our boys! What are you doing? What is this David?” Your stance starts to get defensive as you keep your distance. David didn’t budge or say a thing. “David what the hell is going on?!” You yell, finally snapping. David blinks at your state, surprised as he looks at your long hair in distressed curlers, your robe hanging off your shoulder and your body trembling in fear and confusion.

“Y/N…” David starts trying to hold onto your hands but you rip them away on instinct. You know he had the ability to play mind tricks but this was on a different level. There are faint memories of you talking about wanting a family and kids before you made your choice. You chose to be with him forever, you chose to sacrifice all of those things to be with him. Why was he doing this? Your brows furrow in hurt and disbelief. “What are you doing to me?” You choke out as tears brim your eyes blurring the fine line between the realities you were in. You could see half of him with the striking bright blond hair and donned all in black. Yet the other half was a natural blonde, with clean shave and neat clothes on. “Y/N, I can’t let you go like this.” David whispers, he was now cornering you. Yet you didn’t feel in danger, you felt concerned but not threatened by his nature. “Please, don’t do this right now.” Was he begging you to stop? David never did that. Not the David you knew. That David always got his way and did everything he could. He would never resort to requesting for someone to stop doing something.

“Don’t do what right now? David, what is happening to me?” You ask and this time you close the gap between the two of you. Your hands cupping his cheeks as you search grey-speckled blue eyes. “What do you mean you can’t let me go like this?” You questions again holding his face searching for answers in his deadpan expression. David only sighs and shakes his head, not knowing what to say or do. “Please David, I don’t want to be in a lie anymore…” You beg in a hushed tone pressing your forehead against his and holding him close. As you held his warm body it soon turned cool, no longer as if there was any body heat radiating off of him. Then you were numb. Your eyes were shut close as you felt his forehead touch yours but they slowly opened when he pulled away. It revealed a house you weren’t too familiar with. There was pressure in your chest as if the whole world was crashing down on it. David was kneeling in front of you. The only thing keeping you two apart was the large steak driven into a part in your chest inches away from your heart.

A soft whimper leaves your lips as they tremble in the crushing weight of the reality. He was doing this to send you off one last time. To give you the lasting memory of the thing he thought you deserved the most. A normal life. “Shhh,” he hushes you and pets your head trying to calm you. You were wet and sticky with an oozing dark liquid. You were cold. Yet you were still awake. “I didn’t want to send you off like this,” David starts his eyes boring into yours in almost a hypnotic way. You could see his eyes gloss over, he too was in pain. You could only shake your head for it was too hard to talk with all the pressure. Your hand grasps his and presses it against your cheek. It was his bare hand, something so rare to hold and feel. Even the action of kissing his palm made your body tense and seize from the pain. “Thank you,” you whisper into his palm holding it close. David gives a sigh of defeat and brings his forehead close to yours once again, pressing them together in unison. One hand held your face while the other held your waist. How badly he wanted to close the gap between the two of you.

Suddenly with the blink of an eye you were back in the reality you now know as false. David pulls away from you and the boys come to his side. Your two beautiful boys wrap their arms around you. Tears fall from your eyes and trail off your cheek. You hiccup from a quiet sob as you hold them close. Kissing both of their foreheads you pull away gently. You look at David and approach him wrapping your arms around his neck. You press a loving kiss to his lips. Your grip on him was deadly. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips. David can only smirk and press another chaste kiss and hug you once more. He admired your scent one last time before he knew it was time. “I love you too,” he replies before pressing his forehead into yours. Then your world faded to black, nothingness, stillness, almost deafening.

David pulls away from your lifeless body that was slumped against the wall. A single tear falls from his eye and he is quick to wipe it away. “I will see you again soon,” he whispers into the air before stepping back where his boys were waiting for him. All of their faces distraught with sadness and fear for their brother.

#soulless writes #the lost boys #david the lost boys #The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys fanfiction #why do i do this shit #imma go cry bye #david x reader #david the lost boys x reader

48 notes · View notes

alovesongshewrote · 4 years ago

Text

Kiss Me | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot: A fight between Douxie and the reader attracts some unwanted attention, and the only way out is to kiss. At least in your opinion. [Hisirdoux Casperan x Gender Neutral! Rival!Rreader]

Word count: 1,734

Warnings: fighting, rivalry, tension (owo), a lil’ spicy (bc rivals to lovers, so you know how that goes), swearing

A/N: I used some dialogue prompts from the blogs corvidprompts and dialogue-prompts because witty banter is hard to write

Magic was weird.

It was colourful and glowy, and it lit up the night. Magic was super pretty, but also super noticeable, and that made it really hard to fight your arch-rival in the dark of the night without anyone noticing. That didn’t mean you weren’t going to try.

And try you did! With a blast of blue light, your back collided with a tree, ripping the breath from your lungs.

“Oh, come on Casperan,” you wheezed, “I know you can do better than that,” you paused again to violently cough, supporting yourself with the tree you had hit. The tree was loose.

“Seriously (L/N)?” Hisirdoux emerged from the tree line, “Now is not the time for witty banter,”

“This isn’t banter, it’s flirting. Now keep still, it’s harder to hit you when you move around like that,”

He groaned as you steadied your hands, taking aim at the wizard. He did the same. The two of you moved against each other in sync, letting your magic fly towards your opponent. Red and blue collided in the air, illuminating the night sky with a purple glow for the briefest of moments. Your hits landed, and you were both blown back.

“Ugh,” you groaned, making your way up from the ground, “You… suck,”

“Oh, what, no more witty banter, darling?”

“Ok, you know what? Fuck you, fuck this, when I’m done kicking your ass I’m going out and buying white flowy shirts and tight pants and we’re doing this like proper rivals! You wanna insult me? SEND ME A LETTER,”

“You talk too much,”

“Shut up,”

Red magic threw him back this time, you ran to his body, eager to kick him while he was down. And you did. He groaned, “Ugh, harder dadd-”

“Jesus, Casperan, you could at least buy me dinner first,”

“Cheeky,” he laughed out. You allowed him to rise from the ground, getting yourself into a combative position.

“You’re so strange, you know that,”

“Yeah, I’m not the only one,”

You ran at him, throwing punches and spells in his direction. Red and blue mixed, turning the world around you purple. Eventually, it was enough to knock him onto his back. Unfortunately, he took you with him.

You also landed unfortunately, straddling his lap, “Like I said emo boy,” you exhaled, “Dinner first,”

He made a noise between a groan and a screech, flipping you onto your back and jumping off of you, “Bold of you to assume I could afford that,”

“Oh god, do they not tip in this town?”

“Nope,”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” you let your guard down for a moment, relating to the hell of retail all too well. Douxie, of course, used this against you, taking your legs out with his staff.

“Ahhh, ow. That hurt, you bastard,”

He sighed, kneeling next to you, “You know we could avoid this if you just did as I asked,”

“Never gonna happen,” You sprung up, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to the ground.

“I will smite you,”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, struggling to your feet, “You couldn’t smite a paper towel if it set itself on fire. Get some perspective,”

You threw another spell at him, the red light threw him back a few feet. He crawled to his knees.

“Awwe, Doux you’re on your knees in front of me. Looks like you’ve really hit rock bottom,”

“It might, but I’ve brought a shovel and I’m ready to dig!”

“You really didn’t understand what I meant,”

You lifted your fists, red light surrounded them, Douxie did the same, still on his knees. His frame was illuminated with blue light.

“I should’ve left you on the street corner where I found you,” he said, preparing to curse you. “BUT YA DIDN’T,” you wasted no time, springing at him from your spot. This time it was Douxie who hit a tree.

“C’mon now Doux,” you stalked over to the wizard, “Why do you hate me so much? Is it really you? Or did Merlin tell you I was a big bad bad influence and you instantly believed him?”

Douxie growled, “That’s enough. Get out of Arcadia (L/N),”

“Awe, but I was just starting to like it here,” you smirked, “Just tell me,” you dragged out the last word, “Why do you want me gone so badly?”

“Because you’re a threat!” the wizard sprung up and threw a spell your way. It just missed you, but there was no time to celebrate. Another curse was headed your way,

“You have no morals! You don’t care about anyone but yourself!” Douxie’s magic shot out at you. With each spell, his control lessened, the blue light becoming more and more chaotic, and more and more of a threat.

You too were losing control of the situation, and now you were struggling to regain it, mostly through banter.

“That’s not true! I care about my dog,” Your response only enraged the wizard further, making the situation worse. More spells came your way. You did the only thing you could and kept dodging, backing up and away from Douxie, who advanced on you. It was becoming more and more clear that Merlin was not a card you should have played.

“You don’t take anything seriously! You’re cruel and unusual, and,” Douxie stopped talking. You took the moment to catch your breath, staring down your opponent. Usually, the rivalry between you and the wizard was light-hearted, but the look in his eyes told another story. Your heart sunk as you realized he might actually hate you.

The thought made you sick. Did you even want to keep fighting if that was the case?

You didn’t.

So, when Douxie came at you, you did nothing. You just stood there as he advanced, backing you into yet another tree and pining your arms above your head. You gasped slightly, feeling your heartbeat pick up speed in your chest, the sound of it roared in your ears. Could he hear that? You hoped not.

He leaned closer to you, his lips beside your ear. You pressed your eyes shut. If he hated you, what came next? This was a very strange way to kill someone.

“You’re cruel and unusual, and you keep distracting me,” “What!?”

“I said, you keep-”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Archie’s voice nearly drew a scream from you, “But someone is coming!”

You took a moment to curse the light show that was magic before looking around. You could see bushes moving nearby. Someone was definitely headed your way.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Archie, hide,” Douxie’s familiar did as he asked while you pondered what the hell to do next. If anyone found you and Douxie in this position it would raise a lot of questions. There was only one thing you could think to do. It would also raise questions, but hopefully, there would be fewer of them because there were no other options.

“Kiss me,”

“What?”

There was no time. Whoever it was was only moments from finding the two of you.

So, you broke from the wizard’s hold, grabbing his face and bringing your lips to his. The kiss was soft. His body was warm. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you moved a hand from his face to the back of his neck. His hands moved too, finding their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

The two of you moved in perfect sync as if the universe had made you for each other. The kiss became more passionate, stealing your breath and making your heartbeat even faster than before. Sparks ran through your body, demanding more, more what you didn’t know. Every nerve was on fire. Your body burned like an ember smouldering in the night.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t focus all of your being into the kiss, as much as you wished you could. You stated alert, listening for whoever had come to investigate the bright lights in the forest. You said a little thank you to the gods when the person missed you entirely and disappeared back into the trees.

And then you cursed them because that meant you had to separate yourself from Douxie.

Your lips came apart, leaving both of you breathing heavily. You shut your eyes again and brought your forehead to rest on his chest. He didn’t let go of you. If anything, he only brought you closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“So,”

You looked up at him, “That was nice,”

“It was totally nuclear,”

You smiled slightly, before moving your hands from his neck to encircle his waist, “I’m sorry. For what I said about Merlin, I’m sorry,”

“I’m sorry too, love. For everything, all of this. I-I didn’t mean-”

“I know,”

“And I know you care about the world outside of you, and your dog and-”

“Douxie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut your mouth and kiss me again,”

The wizard did what you told him. This time, you let yourself melt into it.

The kiss was too short in your opinion, but you had more questions, “So, I guess you don’t hate me, huh?”

“(Y/N), darling, I could never hate you. I think you’re amazing. You’re so strong, and fearless, and you’re one of the most skilled magic users I’ve ever met. You distract me because you’re just so-”

“Beautiful,” you cut him off, not talking about yourself, but rather to yourself about Douxie.

“Yeah, that,”

You kissed again, this time, the length was more satisfactory.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I still wanna go to dinner sometime. And I’m getting the bill because the tips in this town suck,”

“I-”

“No, seriously, I got it. I invested in Apple back in the day,”

“You’re brilliant,”

“Thanks, I know,”

The two of you shared a smile, reveling in the moment until a small cough came from one of the bushes.

“Oh, yeah, hey Arch,”

“Hi, Douxie. (Y/N),”

“Hey Archie, how are you?”

“I’m just fine, but right now Douxie and I need to get back into town. The bookstore won’t guard itself,”

“It literally will with warding, but ok,”

“Go home with your familiar emo boy, your bookstore needs you,”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be around. I’ll pick you up sometime on Saturday for dinner?”

“Nuclear,”

You giggled again, pecking him on the lips one more time before letting him go.

“Goodnight. Casperan,”

“Goodnight, (L/N),”

#hisirdoux x reader #douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux imagine #toa douxie #toa hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #fluff #angst #slight angst #rivals to lovers #enemies to lovers #kissing #hugging #tension #fighting #magic

173 notes · View notes

vintagedolan · 4 years ago

Note

hey!!! big big fan of all your work bub, thanks for the effort you put into everything! not sure if ur taking requests, if not just ignore, but i have a potential one here;) so i’m a sups independent girl, almost to a fault lol, part bc i love being independent and part sometimes bc i just don’t want to burden others. and my friend once joked about if something were to ever happen and i’d need to go to the hospital, i’d legit try to take myself. SO i was wondering, could you maybe write (1/2)

(2/2) i was wondering if you’d write something about one of the boys’s S.O’s having stomach pain or smth and maybe she has to get her appendix out and she’s driving herself and her man finds out and he’s like, angry she didn’t say anything but also gets worried and idk hopefully this makes sense if not no worries 😂 have a nice night, bug xx

okay but why is this concept actually some shit I would do lmao

You missed the porsche. There, you said it. Maybe it was because you had so many memories tied to it’s leather seats - Gray driving you home after your first date, the late night PCH drives, the morning coffee runs. You were emotionally attached to the thing, you couldn’t help it.

But holy shit were you glad that he’d gotten a tesla that day.

“Fucking shit.” You winced, doubling over again after just a few steps. When it started, you thought it was just cramps, or maybe even something you ate. But by the second time you’d thrown up, you knew something else was going on, the stabbing pain in your lower right side excruciating.

“Breathe, just breathe,” you mumbled to yourself, scrambling through the drawer of the table of the foyer until you found the key you needed - Grayson always just used his phone to start his car, but you knew the little car shaped thing had to be somewhere.

Sure enough, you gripped in your hands so hard that you accidentally pressed the button that made the doors open automatically. Usually you’d mutter about how unnecessary it was, all the over top technology when you could just open the door yourself.

But when you managed to get in, a few tears slipping from your eyes as you punched in hospital on the GPS and flipped auto pilot on, leaning back in the seat and clutching your stomach, you were thankful for all the bells and whistles. The drive time popped up as the car started to move - 15 minutes. You just had to make it 15 minutes.

At a Wakeheart meeting on the other side of town, Grayson’s phone buzzed.

He moved it quickly off the tabletop, a bit embarrassed. It didn’t matter that he was the CEO of the whole thing, he didn’t want any of his team to think he didn’t care about his meeting. Still, he checked it quickly under the table in case it was a text from you.

Instead, it was a notification from his Tesla app, and the tag line had his heart rate rising with every word he read.

Headed to the hospital? If you are in an emergency, please do not rely on autopilot and call 911 immediately to seek medical assistance.

He put his phone back up on the table, sliding it over to Ethan. He didn’t have to say anything - Ethan just knew, and by the way his brow furrowed over the screen, Grayson understood.

“Hey guys, really sorry but can we take a five minute break? Gotta troubleshoot something really quick.”

He was met with mumbles of understanding that he didn’t pay attention to as he stepped out into the hallway, Ethan on his heels.

“You’ve never gotten anything like that before?”

“Nah bro, I have no idea what that’s about. Hold on I’ll look it up.” Ethan typed furiously on his phone for a moment, eyes going wide.

“Uh, it says it comes up if you put a hospital into the GPS and enable autopilot. It’s a safety feature, so you can’t try to hold them liable if autopilot fails and you’re like dying or something. But who would be - oh shit.”

Grayson was two steps ahead of him, already clicking your contact.

Inside the tesla, you let out another groan as you saw his name pop up on the screen. You knew if you didn’t answer he would just keep calling, and you had the sinking feeling that he was somehow onto you. You clicked the green button and tried to steady your voice.

“Hello?”

“Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m uh - I’m okay. Why?”

“Oh you know, just the fact that my phone told me my tesla is in route to a fucking hospital right now? What the fuck babe?”

Fuck. There was no way to play that off, and if there was, you couldn’t think of it quick enough.

“Ummmmm.. shit,” you winced again, grabbing at your side with a whimper.

“Y/N tell me what’s going on, no bullshit. Please, you’re scaring me.” His tone was pleading, and you couldn’t resist it.

“I think it’s my appendix. Hurts like a bitch, and if they rupture that can be really bad. So I’m going to the -“ you sucked in another breath, trying to keep it together. “- To the hospital.

“Jesus, why didn’t you call me? I could have taken you, you shouldn’t be driving!”

“I’m fin-”

“You aren’t fine. I’m coming. I’m on my way.”

“Okay.” You didn’t have the heart to argue with him, you were in too much pain, and you knew he was only going to be more mad when he realized that if it really was your appendix, they were going to have you in surgery as soon as they could.

You made it through the last few minutes of the drive, taking the tesla off auto and doing your very best to park it.

You must not have been playing it off as well as you thought you were, because someone took one look at you headed for the ER doors and they were running inside to get someone to help.

It was a bit humiliating to be eased down into a wheelchair by a very nice nurse and wheeled in through the doors, but the pain was so bad that you felt like you were going to pass out any minute. So you let it happen, let them wheel you in and take you back almost immediately, get you changed into a gown and check you out. The pain was immense, but they didn’t want to give you anything to ease it with the likelihood of surgery right around the corner. So you ground your teeth and tried to fight through it, sucking in deep breaths as your insides felt like they were ripping apart.

“Well Y/N, it’s looking like surgery. Did anyone come here with you, anyone you want to bring back?” The doctor asked quickly when he finally came in, already starting to get the paperwork moving.

“I came alone, but my boyfriend is on his - on his way. Grayson Dolan. Please let him back here if he gets here, please,” you pleaded, knowing he would be more than upset if he didn’t see you before you got taken back.

“I’ll have one of the nurses check the waiting room.

“Ethan Dolan too, if he’s here.”

“Okay, you just try to relax, I’ll go see.”

Relaxing wasn’t in your capabilities, but you did let out a sigh of relief when you saw them come through the door.

Grayson on the other hand was anything but relieved when he saw the look on your face and realized just how much pain you were in. He was at your side immediately, Ethan over his shoulder - more for his sake than for yours.

“Baby -” he was out of breath, no doubt having raced to the hospital and run inside as quickly as he could.

“I’m okay, I’m gonna be fine,” you moved to reassure him, trying to reach out for him. It backfired, sending more pain into your side that had you sucking in a breath. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Bullshit, of course I’m gonna worry. The nurse said you’re going back for surgery?”

“Yeah.” As if on cue the doctor came back in, ready to take you back.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, feeling guilty. If the roles were reversed, you would be more than mad, and it was all you could think about.

“Shhhh, stop. I love you, just come back to me in one piece, okay?” He leaned over and kissed your forehead - the pain had you hazy, but you managed to get out a “I love you too” before they wheeled you out.

It was a quick surgery, which was a blessing for Grayson’s nerves that were already worn thin. His foot bounced from the minute he sat down in the waiting room all the way until the nurse came to find them again, letting him know that you’d made it through surgery with no issues.

When you finally managed to open your eyes, Grayson was right there, one of your hands clasped in his. You were loopy from the anesthesia still in your system and you gave him a goofy smile.

“You’s mad at me,” you said, and though you meant to be sad it came out as a giggle.

“A little bit, yes, Ms. I-never-ask-for-help,” he sighed, but there wasn’t a trace of bite in his tone.

“Sowwwy,” you slurred, squeezing his hand as best you could. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles as you started to wake up a bit more, bleary eyes opening further.

“It’s okay baby. Besides, you get to let me take care of you for the next week. Doctor’s orders, so you can’t argue either. That’ll make up for it.”

“You have work,” you countered, making him laugh as he moved up the bed and kissed your forehead again.

“Ethan and I cleared our week, you’re stuck with me. I get to pamper you,” he teased, running his fingers through your hair as he moved it back out of your face.

“Gross,” you grumbled, trying to keep up the facade. You never liked to be taken care of, no matter how much Grayson tried to.

“I’m glad you’re okay baby. Just promise to call me next time, okay? Taking care of you is part of my boyfriend duties, it’d be nice if you let me do it sometimes.”

You mumbled out the promise, but you were smiling as best you could and nodding, just glad to have him there with you, the idea of him being curled up in bed with you for a few days warming you up to the idea. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#anon #ask #idek what this is haha #and im in class writing this HAHA im the worst student of all time #g:blurb #blurb #grayson dolan blurb

155 notes · View notes

snickiebear · 4 years ago

Note

Hello hello nadia, i’m in a leesaku mood today so pls indulge me with a three-sentence fic for this lil prompt “you are my best friend and I’ve known you platonically for years now but every time you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach” tysm ilyyyy ❤️❤️❤️❤️

haha... this is, two days late. NIASDUKDSK IM SO SORRY THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST YOURE THE BEST ILY

side note: this is.... kind of what you wanted? AND LMAO ITS NOT THREE SENTENCES AGAIN WHOOPS

side side note: this is now crossposted bc i liked it a lot tbh :")

a cocoon in the heart, a spark in the brain.

It starts with a glance. An innocent, fleeting look. Naruto’s smile is too bright to look at for more than a handful of seconds and Sasuke’s glare is too dark to find anything of interest, so Sakura glances away, as she always does.

She glances away and there is Lee, dirtied and bloodied but he holds Neji’s hand, Tenten tucked under his arm, and is laughing, tears streaming down his face. He must have felt her eyes because he looks over and sends her a beaming smile.

And. And her heart picks up, her breath catches.

She quickly looks over to Naruto and Sasuke, being blinded by the light and dark both, and tries her best to not think of why one look from Lee can breed butterflies and moths in her stomach.

They rebuild the village and everyone endures. Sasuke leaves once more because he is a boy who has never known staying, he has never stayed long enough to put roots in, to know how to stay. So, Naruto and Sakura let him go.

(If she is being honest, Sakura is more than happy to have him leave. Sasuke will always be a rotten fruit in the tangle of her feelings, something that she will never quite understand, something that will haunt her no matter what she does. If he is not there, she does not have to think about it. He’s like a curse, and it hurts her to think that but it is true.)

Kakashi is the Hokage and Sakura is still laughing at him, clutching her stomach and howling at her friend’s “misfortune” as he calls it.

“Mah,” Kakashi half drawls, half pleads. “Must you laugh at your poor ex-sensei?”

Naruto is losing his absolute shit as they clutch each other to stay standing. “Kaka-sensei you do not look good in white.”

“It,” Sakura gasps, wiping tears from her face, “It-It really washes you out!”

Naruto’s knees give out and they both tumble to the ground, a mess and tangle of laughing limbs and leaking eyes.

Kakashi sighs heavily from his desk but she knows he’s having just as much fun as they are. Kakashi is her best friend, she knows how he is when he’s drunk out of his mind and when he’s trying to bite back laughter.

The door swings open and Lee steps in with Team Gai flanking him. Neji recovered incredibly well thanks to Sakura’s magic hands (as Naruto has deemed them) and they’ve been taking low ranking missions since he was deemed fit to return to duty.

It takes a few moments for Sakura and Naruto’s heaving, snorting laughter to subside as Kakashi clears his throat, his eyes crinkling up in the way Sakura knows he’s really trying not to laugh.

She looks up and glances at Lee, to find him already watching her, his eyes soft and smile softer. Sakura is a God Slayer along with Naruto and Sasuke, she has faced down hundreds of opponents with only her raw fists and come up victorious, she has dragged people back from the brink of death with a tap.

Sakura does not blush. Out right refuses to.

“Hey,” All breathless and raw from laughter.

Lee’s smile widens as he steps forward to offer his hand, she takes it without hesitation and thanks the God whose heart she ripped out that he was wearing gloves. She can feel the heat through them nonetheless. Sakura does her best not to shiver as their eyes meet.

“You guys heading in or out?” Naruto asks after he hauled himself onto his feet, not hiding the way he eyes Lee and Sakura’s hands. The entire room’s eyes are on them.

“In,” Tenten says slowly, and Sakura does not blush as she carefully extracts her hand from Lees and does not think about why there are fireworks exploding within her mind, why she misses the heat and the way his hand encompasses hers.

She sees him everywhere now.

At the Rusty Kunai, at the training fields, at lunch, sometimes even in the hospital. And every damn time he smiles at her, she feels like she’s coming back to life and being stabbed in the heart.

Sakura has no idea if this was love or just lust. What she felt for Sasuke was not love, that was obsession and cruelty. She had crushes on civilian boys but they were too soft, unmarred compared to her countless scars, visible or not.

Ino stares at her as if she’s the stupidest person in the world and Sakura smacks her for it. She hopes it leaves a bruise. The Bitch. “Stop giving me that look, Pig. I’ll hit you again, don’t tempt me.”

Ino glares as she rubs her arm, sticking out her tongue. “It isn’t my fault you aren’t using that big forehead of yours! You’re telling me that you two drink together, train together, you go to lunch together, he even visits you at the hospital because he knows you haven’t eaten or slept. And then you tell me you get all those stupid fluttery feelings and you don’t know what it means?”

And well. When she puts it like that. . .

Sakura pouts and crosses her arms, “It's confusing!”

“You’re a genius. An actual genius, Sakura.” Ino deadpans. “Your IQ is literally right next to Shikamaru’s. Lee has been in love with you since we were twelve! There is no way you don’t know what this means.”

Groaning, Sakura slumps into Ino’s lap, hiding her face in Ino’s thigh. “When did you become so smart?”

“When I made out with Hinata and then fucked her.” Ino says easily and Sakura laughs. “What? Don’t laugh! It's true!”

Ino cackles when Sakura pinches her calf.

Lee moves with such elegance that Sakura aches with it.

This boy made man who had known nothing but sweat and hardship, who still cups things with such tender and care, who moves so fluidly and hits so brutally.

They are both the earth, solid and unyielding, they are the water, the hills, the mountains. They are unbreakable because they have broken themselves apart, pushed themselves past the very limit to reach where they are.

Sakura and Lee are 20 and they have saved the world.

Now, they tear apart the training grounds just to keep life interesting.

With every dodged fist her heart quickens because Lee is smiling and laughing, calling friendly taunts as she grins right back.

This is nothing like Team 7’s spars, all bloodied teeth and snarling as Sasuke underestimates her again and again and again. Kakashi, Sai, and Yamato know better. Naruto is learning slowly. Sasuke never pays attention enough to know.

No, sparring with Lee is like dancing, is like thriving, and a fresh breath of air at night as fireworks light up the sky and a butterfly lands on your nose.

She lands a kick to his ribs and spends him flying back as she advances swiftly, pinning him down with a hand on his chest, knees on either side of his hips.

A long pause as they try to catch their breathes.

They’re both breathing heavily, Sakura cannot tear her eyes away from him as he reaches a hand to tuck loose hair behind her ear.

“Lee,” She breathes, ignoring the way her face burns and the way butterflies have swarmed her insides, how her heart is raging against her ribcage. “Lee I-”

“Sakura.” Lee says, voice deep and rumbly and cracking. “Sakura, will you go out to lunch with me? Forever. Well, hopefully forever- you are so very Youthful, you are incredibly Strong, you do not need my protection, but Sakura, let me protect you anyways, just as you will me. Sakura-”

She channels her inner Ino and leans down to kiss him, all lips, teeth and tongue. His hands settle on her waist and he flips them without breaking contact and if they weren’t in public, well. . .

Sakura pulls back breathless and wide eyes before forcing the words out, “I’ve known you for years Lee, you’re one of my best friends.” Her hand on his chest can feel the way his breath catches, the way his heart is pounding. “Everytime you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach. They’ve bred and infested my very insides, my brain blooms and rots with the thought of you.”

He is shaking beneath her, staring at her as if she is Divine and Righteous and she cannot think of anything else she would want except his eyes on her.

“Lunch?” She breathes, hand at the base of his neck. “I would like to have lunch with you. Forever. If the offer still stands.”

Lee smiles wide and bright as he stands, pulling Sakura up with him, “The offer will always stand, Sakura. For you, there is very little I would not do.”

She kisses him again and hand in hand they go to lunch.

Facts:

The very first day Lee saw Sakura a cocoon formed within his heart, everytime after that more would form, more would crack.

The butterflies and moths have a home in his heart but only come alive when they see her.

They never die, no matter what he does.

He saw her crack the world open with a first, saw her tear open a God’s chest. He was the first thing she looked at after. He thought he would become alight with it all.

Lee loves Sakura. He always has, he always will. His heart has a butterfly garden full of fireworks just for her.

Her laugh makes his skin prickle, makes his muscles loose. He is addicted to it.

She looks at him like she sees the green of the trees and the blue of the sky. Lee revels in it.

Sakura loves Lee and it nearly breaks him.

He will take her out to lunch until the day they die and well after.

The butterflies and moths and fireworks never go away for either of them. It is the beauty of it all.

#leesaku #silly things from silly friends #sakulee #a shared pen

25 notes · View notes

tsukifanbase · 4 years ago

Text

Headcannons for Obey Me! Brothers With An S/O Who’s Afraid of The Dark

—————

Authors Note: bro it’s like 1am over here, and I can’t get this outta my head lmao

Warnings: Mostly fluff, maybe some swearing here and there.

——————

Lucifer:

- this bitch already knows you’re afraid of the dark

- like who told him

- nobody knows but he is aware I promise you

- so when the power buzzed out in the house of lamenation

- let’s be real, he was probably lecturing mammon about something

- luci is like, ‘oh the power went out- oh shit’

- when I say he zoomed

- like the lights went out two seconds ago, he’s already knocking at your door

- “(MC)?”, he opens the door and finds you curled up on the floor, he sighs a bit in relief that you’re okay

- then immediately picks you up, and takes you over to the bed to hug you until the power comes back on

- there are little words said between the two of you, but you can bet he’s whispering things like, ‘it’s okay’ and ‘don’t worry darling, I’m right here’

Mammon

- 1000% did not know you were afraid of anything

- like he never really thought about it, so when the power shut down he was like, ‘oh this sucks but whatever’

- was lowkey holding a flashlight counting his grimm when he heard you knock on the door

- assumed it was one of his brothers, so he answered with, ‘come in! it’s unlocked!’

- he hears the door open and then shines his flashlight on you, he’s like ‘oh (MC) what’s up- wait’

- mammon notices you’re shivering, not from the cold but from fear

- he springs up and quickly walks over to you

- then places his hands on your shoulders, he can see you vaguely from the flashlight beam (he left it on the bed)

- “(MC) what’s wrong?”, he’ll ask, staring at you worried

- you’ll tell him you’re afraid of the dark and he’s so relieved

- like, ‘oh that’s all?’, he’s smiling at you, and he pulls you into his chest, giving you such a sweet hug

- “you’re okay now, human, your favorite demon’s got your back”

Beel

- you two were in the kitchen when the lights went out

- you were in the middle of talking about something from your day when the light flickered and then turned off

- immediately you stop speaking

- beel is still eating something when he’s like, ‘(MC), why’d you stop talking?’

- noticed the light went off but didn’t know why you just fell silent

- you don’t answer him, but he’s slightly more out at ease when you find him in the dark and clutch to his shirt.

- “hey what’s wrong?”, Beel keeps his food in one hand and wraps his other arm around you

- you explain you’re a tad bit afraid of the dark and he’s like, ‘oh ok’

- very chill about the whole thing

- will let you curl up on his chest while he continues munching on things

Belphie

- very similar to beel in how chill he is about the whole thing

- y’all are cuddling in your room when the nightlight you had turned off

- you were awake, unlike belphie, so you start shaking slightly, and it wakes him up

- belphie’s like, ‘bro what gives’ at first cos he dislikes being woken up, but then he notices you’re trembling

- “(MC)? What is it baby?”, he’ll lift his hand to rub his thumb over your cheek to calm you

- you explain, he nods in the darkness and wraps his arms around your waist, getting ready to go back to sleep

- “don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting anything hurt you”

- you’re like ‘thank you?’ lmao

Asmo

- most likely to tease you rip

- Asmo is helping you pick out an outfit for the next day when the lights turn off

- you immediately shuffle over to him, and clutch for dear life

- “(MC)?”

- you mumble quietly and explain that you’re afraid of the dark to him

- asmo straight up laughs a little, “oh (MC) how silly”

- don’t get me wrong, this boy is so sweet!

- immediately will encase you in a super tight hug, rocking the both of you back and forth slightly

- it’s very calming

- “when the lights come back on, we’ll do something fun! okay, (MC)?”

- he doesn’t mean this to be sexual but hun it’s asmo of course it is

Satan

- this boy is one to question the logic of your fear

- like you explain it and he’s like,

- ‘aren’t people afraid of the dark, really afraid of what’s in the dark? which is usually like a ghost or demon or something?’

- ‘should I be offended?’

- of course he says none of this to you, he’s already walking over to you to comfort you

- but he’s thinking it :)

- he was reading a book to you when the lights turned off so he was like, ‘oh I guess it’s bed time then’

- he doesn’t know you’re afraid of the dark for sure like luci, but he suspected as much

- this manz is very observant

- closes his book and then kneels beside where you were sitting on the bed

- “are you okay, my darling, (MC)?”

- you grab onto him and he chuckles and presses your head into his chest

- “don’t worry, my love, I’m not going anywhere”

Levi

- was playing video games when the power went out

- so he got bored and went to go find you

- not that he would ever admit to wanting to see you but we all know lmao

- levi finds you curled up in your bed so at first he thinks you’re asleep

- debates leaving you alone, but settles on just joining you

- he lies down next to you, and places his hand on your shoulder, and feels you shaking

- “mm? (MC) are you awake?”

- you reach out and wrap your arms around his waist

- he’s blushing like crazy, not that you can see bc of the dark but

- then he realizes something is wrong

- “(MC)?”

- he clutches you close as you tell him what’s wrong

- Levi chuckles to himself, and tells you how lucky you are that he just was casually passing by and decided to pop in

- he’s fooling nobody let’s be real lol

———————

hope y’all enjoyed! wohoo first post of the blog

#obey me #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me asmodeus #obey me levi #obey me imagines #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #lucifer x reader #beel x reader #belphie x reader #asmo x reader #satan x reader #levi x reader #lowkey real fun to write

122 notes · View notes

teddy-bear-surprise · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 2: The First Assignment

Link to the table of contents and disclaimers: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

A/N: Sorry for the long wait :( I just started writing the third chapter so that should be up relatively soon too... It was supposed to be a part of this chapter but I had to separate it bc google docs starts crapping out after like 10 pages

Mitch and Marcel exited the foyer after a long introduction and walked along the clean marble hallway. As Stilinski followed Marcel, he cautiously scanned the walls admiring the outdated yet stylish design. The heels of his oxfords clicked vibrantly with each stride, echoing against the tall ceiling. As their steps approached Genevieve’s hiding spot, she scampered back into her sanctuary. She stole a quick glance into the hallway, locking eyes with Mitch.

The sudden and unintended eye contact with Celestin’s daughter drove a stake through Mitch’s heart and invoked the dozens of warnings that Didier and Hurley had drilled into his head the prior week. Whatever you do, Stilinski, don’t engage with his daughter. Hey, Stilinski, remember that Marcel Celestin will literally rip you to pieces if you fuck up. Don’t forget: if Celestin even suspects you might be interested in his daughter, you’re deader than dead.

Mitch averted his eyes and gave his head a quick shake, ridding himself of the ridiculous internal commentary. He clearly understood the severity and danger of his employment, but he struggled to wrap his head around the notion of a father as overprotective as Marcel. Mitch never had anyone worry about him like that. When he joined the CIA, he was only able to do so because of his complete lack of family, friends, and life. He had always seen himself as expandable to a certain extent. Stilinski would put his life on the line, time after time, because he just could not fathom anything more important than his mission. In attempting to understand Marcel’s neuroticism, Mitch realized that Marcel’s mission was handing off his “business” to Genevieve, and that– like him– Marcel would stop at nothing to see his mission through. Even so, Mitch questioned the validity of the horror stories he had been bombarded with regarding the Celestins.

A lock snapped loudly, bringing Mitch out of his trance, as another one of Marcel’s employees opened the door for them to enter Marcel’s grand office. The walls were lined with glimmering trophies from Marcel’s past and photographs of him and Genevieve; Mitch was struck with surprise to see a mafioso’s office look so ordinary. The floor here was no longer made of stone and was instead a smooth dark wood. In the center of the room there lay a large, illustrious rug with a heavy mahogany desk sitting atop it. On the wall behind the desk, two grand windows brightened the room and gave it life.

Marcel continued walking in front of Stilinski, making his way to the looming chair behind the desk. He sat himself down, motioning across the desk, and told Mitch to take a seat. Mitch pulled out a chair and rested his body weight on the arm as he lowered himself onto the seat. He then leaned forward and looked at Marcel, waiting for further instruction.

“Stilinski,” Celestin began, “After Didier assesses your physical abilities today, I have a job for you. Tomorrow, I want you to take my daughter, Genevieve, to Paris. It’s been years since she’s been to the city and I’m having a soireè next week so she needs a new outfit. Your job is simple, keep her alive, make sure she gets something nice, and obviously don’t fuck up.”

“Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.” Mitch replied immediately, though his mind was churning.

“Let’s consider this a gesture of good faith. You get her there and back in one piece and you get to keep your job, you fail and… Well, I think you know what happens then, don’t you?”

Stilinski took a deep breath, “Yes, Sir. I am aware. Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

Celestin nodded his head towards the door, indicating that Mitch should leave. “Good, I wouldn’t want to lose another half-decent guard to incompetency.”

Mitch nodded while he got up and walked to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open and he came face to face with Genevieve. Again. He looked down at her, unintentionally, before quickly backing away and letting her pass in front of him. She kept her eyes on him for another second before waltzing towards her father’s desk.

“One of the guards gave me a note telling me to meet you down here, what’s going on?”

“You know what, Genevieve, you got here just in time. Stilinski, stay here for just another minute and shut the door, will you?”

Stilinski closed the door again, “Yes, Sir.”

“Genevieve, I want you to meet our newest guard, Mitch Stilinski. He’s going to take you into Paris tomorrow to pick some things up for the event I’m planning for next weekend.”

Genevieve turned and glared at Mitch, slightly squinting her eyes, “Really?”

She had not meant it in a rude way, but she was truly shocked that her father would let the ‘new guy’ take her into the city.

“Sorry,” Genevieve continued. “That sounds like a brilliant idea father.”

Marcel smirked and waved his hand, dismissing the both of them. Mitch re-opened the door, holding it open for Genevieve. She walked past him without so much as a glance. Genevieve slipped back into the library, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Mitch, as confused as ever, shut Marcel’s door quietly. He walked rapidly away, trying to figure out where the gym was. He eventually found it, the first door to the right of the foyer, and saw Didier patiently waiting inside. Didier was leaning against a padded wall, wrapping his hands, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

Didier greeted him nonchalantly, “So, Stilinski, how’s the first day going?”

“It could be better. Celestin already gave me an assignment and I don’t know if I’m anywhere near ready to take on this kind of responsibility.”

“Well then, you better learn soon.” He chuckled at the quip and rolled his eyes, “I kinda figured that out on my own, Axel. I’m gonna go change but I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stilinski stumbled into the locker room, trying to find the locker with his number on it. When he had been tattooed with the crow on his neck, he was assigned a number. Mitch had been given the number 7 following the death of the original number 7 in a gruesome shoot-out. The number was hidden within the bird’s eye, forever marking him as one of Celestin’s disciples. He scanned up, down, and across until the number 7 caught his eye. It was hidden in the far right corner of the locker room and when he opened it, it contained the same black shirt, pants, and hand wraps that Didier had. Mitch carefully took off his suit, hanging it in the locker, and put on the black ensemble. He wrapped his hands quickly as he walked out of the locker room.

Mitch and Axel sparred for over an hour, neither one could seem to knock the other down long enough to win. It seemed that, though years ago, Hurley’s training had stuck in their minds. Both of their hands were covered in bruises beneath the wraps, only a few punches away from dislocating a knuckle. They panted heavily as they threw punches and kicked at each other with sweat dripping into their eyes. Mitch approached Axel, hoping to win the match with a final punch, but Didier was more experienced and used Mitch’s own momentum against him. He punched Stilinski sharply in the jaw, knocked him onto his back, and held him down with one knee.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… I win!” Didier lifted his knee from Mitch’s chest as he stood up.

“You know,” Began Stilinski, “I would normally be mad that you beat me, but I’m so tired right now that I couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah right, Stilinski. I know I hurt your ego.” He held a hand out to Mitch.

Stilinski stood up, “I’m serious, the jet lag, the sparring, and the weird threats… I’m exhausted from all this shit and it’s only day one.”

“You’ll get used to it. Why don’t you tell me more about this new assignment of yours while we do a few miles on the treadmill?”

“Great, running and talking. My two favorite things. I’ll agree to it this once, but only because I don’t have the slightest fucking idea about what to do tomorrow.”

A few rooms down, Genevieve continued obsessively daydreaming about her outing to Paris. She could hardly even remember what stores she used to shop at in the city, let alone how to dress for an event as nice as the one her father was planning. Along the bottom row of the library shelves, there was a handful of fashion magazines, they were all a few seasons old but she figured they would hold up well enough. After all, how much could fashion really change?

Genevieve leafed through the pages, dog-earing the outfits she thought might be appropriate for the occasion. She closed her eyes, letting the sun seep through her eyelids as she pictured herself walking down the long staircase in a shimmering sage dress.

In her mind, the ideal dress would be fuller than full, putting at least two feet between her and everyone else; it was to have a laced corset bodice covered in lilac petals and small beads; and the straps would hang loosely off of her shoulders, brushing her skin ever so slightly. Unfortunately, however, Genevieve knew that it would be impossible to find such a dress on such short notice. She continued flipping through dozens of magazines until dinnertime, jotting down the names of certain shops and designers that were based in Paris, and hoped that one of them might be able to produce a miracle. Soon after, Genevieve’s night came to a close and she drifted off to sleep dreaming about the following day’s adventures.

“Genevieve, my darling, it’s time for you to get up. You’ve got to go into the city to find an outfit. Remember?”

Marcel sat down on Geveieve’s bed, rubbing her shoulder softly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. At only seven in the morning, the sun had just begun it’s work and shone weakly along the horizon. Its rays reflected off of the curtains and into Genevieve’s eyes, causing her to turn away from the window.

“Yes, I remember.” She sighed with uncertainty, “Papà, I’m not quite sure I’m up for this today. This seems like such a big step to take… for me, and for the new guard.”

Genevieve’s stomach churned and her heart began beating quickly. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world– despite its beauty– had put her into a chokehold. She breathed with shallow gasps, never seeming to get enough oxygen. Her arms grew weak and she laid back down, praying that the horrible feeling would subside.

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed together, “You’ll be okay, my darling. I would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Marcel got up and opened Genevieve’s door, calling out for someone to bring a glass of water.

“But what if something did happen? What if…”

Marcel cut her off, “I know you’re anxious. I know, but give it an hour, and then you can decide if you want to go or not.”

His words, while not very helpful, provided some comfort. For some reason, Genevieve had a nasty habit of developing nauseating anxiety in the early morning. It had been happening since she was a child, but as she had not woken up before nine am in many years, she had grown unaccustomed to the feeling. It used to just set her back by a few minutes, only occasionally proving to be a real problem. Now, however, Genevieve felt like she had been hit by a two-ton garbage truck.

The same man who had brought her lunch yesterday walked in with a tall glass of water. He handed it to Genevieve who sipped on it slowly.

“Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. I’ll check back in an hour to see how you are. Sebastien, let’s go.” Her father patted her head and walked out, Sebastien closing the door behind them.

Genevieve sat up and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and naming everything in her vicinity. She saw her bed, her hands, the door, the windows, and the glass of water on her bedside table. Her skin felt the cool fabric of her bed, the cold glass between her palms, the single feather poking out of her pillow, and the wall behind her head. Her ears could pick out the faint sound of voices outside, birds chirping, and the wind blowing. With each inhale, she could smell breakfast being made in the kitchen mixing with the fresh scent of her bedsheets. Taking a sip of water, she noted that she didn’t quite taste anything, but that always seemed to happen when she got to the last step.

During the next fifty-five minutes Genevieve’s breath became more natural and her heartbeat slowed. Still leaning against the wall, she bent over to place the empty water glass on her bedside table, wondering why she held onto it for so long. Her father came in soon after as if he had telepathically sensed her newfound calm.

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, “So, was I right? Are you feeling better now, Genevieve?”

“Yeah, I guess I do feel better.” She let a small smirk take over her face.

“See, daughter, all you needed was some time. That is our most precious resource. Not our money, not our network, not our assassins… It’s the one we take the most for granted, our time. One day, you’ll see just how little time we really have.” Marcel let go of her hand, “Now, you go on into the city to find something nice to wear.”

Genevieve stood up and ushered her father out. She figured it was time to get dressed since she had already wasted so much time. After changing, she brushed her teeth and rushed downstairs, hoping to make the most of her time. While Genevieve was not necessarily excited to be going shopping, it was an opportunity that she had not been able to experience in a long time.

Her father led her to a car that was waiting out front with Mitch behind the wheel. He tilted his head down by an inch when he noticed her as a sign of respect. Genevieve slid into the back seat quietly, pulling her backpack over her knees. As she looked back towards him, Marcel shut the car door and gave her a soft smile. He patted the side of the car and Mitch slowly drove away, the sounds of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Genevieve turned solemnly towards her home, watching it shrink into the horizon. This outing was a new type of adventure for both herself and Mitch, and neither of them knew what to expect.

#dylan o'brien #Mitch Rapp #mitch stilinski #mitch rapp fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles x oc #stiles fanfiction #dylan o'brien fanfiction #teen wolf #American Assassin

5 notes · View notes

ambered-glazed-sheep · 5 years ago

Note

Please do go on about Doomslayer and his morals. I'm legit fascinated by him since starting the let's play I'm watching and I'd love to hear your take on him (I know literally nothing about the Doom franchise other than lots of blood and violence against demons and also badass music)

You know, a year ago when my friends asked me 'hey do you wanna play minecraft' and i said 'yeah sure' i would have never thought i would one day have a minecraft sideblog where i get questions about the personality of the main character of a shooter fps game (of all things!) that is known for its incredible violence.

But here you go:

(prepare yourself this has gotten way longer than i thought oh god, and also it has nothing to do with hermits whatsoever. warnings for language and descriptions of violence? and i assume the readmore won’t be working the way i want it to)

Ok so, Doom!

First of all, i know nothing about the old games, and i’ve only seen a minimal amount of Doom Eternal Letsplays. Most of this is based on Doom (2016).

Ok so we all start out thinking Doomguy! It’s the guy you play in Doom. The hand that hold the gun YOU are shooting demons with. And sure, you can go trough the whole game with that mindset, but that’s boring and we are overthinking fictional characters in this house.

ID software actually managed to give Doomguy/Doomslayer a TON of personality despite him never saying a word, barely any cutscenes to show what he does when you don’t control him (at least in Doom 2016), and not a lot of other characters to interact with despite enemy monsters.

The game just leaves you little hints and snippets and that’s what makes Doomslayer so exciting to think about. Just the right levels between ‘cryptid half-god who never shows emotion and is a player-insert’ and ‘this dude’s got an AGENDA. he has PLACES TO BE’. You are him as you play, but sometimes he makes decisions on his own. But personally, i could never find myself to disagree.

First, you got the intro sequence.

You got a unknown voice telling you:

“They are rage. Brutal, without mercy. But you. You will be worse. Rip and Tear, until it is done.”

First of all, YO. WOW. HOLY SHIT.

The scene immediately shifts to Doomslayer waking up. He’s naked, he’s chained down somewhere, theresa SHIT TON of scars littering his arms and hands. First thing HE does, on his own behalf, is ripping off the chains by flexing a little (literal iron chains!!!), smashing a zombies head against the sarcophagus he lays in and completely obliterating said head into a bit of blood (mind you, three seconds after he woke up from a thousands of years long coma!! but we only learn that later), and then promptly gets up, picks up a pistol, and now it’s your, the players turn. This takes like 8 seconds in total. This man means BUSINESS. That’s the first thing we learn.

Second thing that strikes me is the interactions with Samuel Hayden.

Doomslayer is patient when a computer voice tells him the status of the base. He is patient as he looks at the screens to see what is going on. (a demonic invasion, thats what). But then dear Dr. Samuel Hayden calls.

Dr. Hayden says “Hi, i’m the boss here, i’m sure we can work together in a way that benefits us both uwu”. Doomslayer immediately grabs the PC screen and pushes it aside. His gesture says, i’m done with this. im sick of this dude. this guy is full of shit. And he’s right! And that after barely hearing two sentences from Hayden!

So the second thing we learn is that he has no time for people trying to exploit him. He hears Hayden, he has a gut feeling that this dude is a little fishy, maybe he just plain doesnt like higher ups and heads of facilities. But we learn that he IS. NOT. going to listen to this man, and his body language makes that very clear without being actually violent against the person (he doesnt destroy the Screen either! just pushes it aside very annoyed. He isn’t mindlessly destroying property here.)

This continues.

Hayden goes ‘hey maybe don’t destroy that energy source!’ in the few seconds you dont control him, Doomslayer listens. He hesitates. He considers. Then he destroys the thing anyways. Hayden keeps telling him to stop, but Doomslayer doesnt listen. He’s got his own mind!

This was mostly about Haydens Company, the UAC, harvesting hell energy, and hurting people in the process.

There’s a scene where Doomslayer rides an elevator. Hayden, over the comms, tells him that everyone that has died in the demon attack was a nacessary sacrifice that will bring a new future or some shit like that. the camera pans down to show some poor sods corpse at those very words. Doomslayer cracks his knuckles. he is NOT HAPPY about that, so we know he doesnt like it when human lifes are sacrificed. He destroys the communicator, so he doesnt have to listen to Haydens voice telling him lies and trying to sway him anymore.

(then he takes out his shotgun, the doors open, metal starts playing and the doom logo is shown, but that’s more about making the player feel epic than showing doomslayers personality,,)

Now i would like to talk about VEGA, the AI that controls the mars facility.

VEGA occasionally talks to us/the Slayer. He is very straightforward, tells us what to do and why to do it, and is generally very polite. In the story, Doomslayer listens to Vega.

Now why does he listen to VEGA but not Hayden?

I think it’s because Hayden tries to get him to do things that just benefit him, and Hayden is very manipulative in his words (or tries to be lol), while Vega just says (if you destroy this thing, that door will open. I think Doomslayer appreciates it when people are honest to him.

And in the end, Doomslayer on his own decides to save a backup of VEGA. VEGA didn’t ask him to, Doomslayer did that on his own. It’s not relevant to his mission, he doesnt need VEGA to go to hell to close portals and whatnot. But he does save him. Why? I think it’s because he cares. Because he’s come to like VEGA. Because Vega didn’t try to manipulate him and screw him over.

Next up is the Slayers Testament.

These are a bunch of writings/recordings that you find scattered in the hell levels. (i highly recommend listening to them/reading them, they are metal as fuck and give me such an immense feeling of power bc they are talking about me, the doomslayer)

These testaments were written by demons. They were genuinely afraid of the slayer.

Quote:

Unbreakable, incorruptible, unyielding, the Doom Slayer sought to end the dominion of the dark realm.

As said, i don’t think these are purely talking about his physical strength. They are talking about his... well, mentality. His Codex. They see him as an unstoppable force. He is incorruptible. Let that sink in. Man walks trough hordes of demons and at no point ever thinks ‘yeah maybe this is a bit much’ or ‘they just keep coming this is pointless’. No. He’s unyielding. (Can you tell how much i love the words in these testaments? It’s just got such a nice ring to it.)

In battle, the Doomslayer is BRUTAL. He tears apart demons, rips their eyes out, all that. He stomps on heads like they’re water balloons and isn’t fazed at all. Nothing stops this man. (except players like me who fall off the map 5 consecutive times, but lets just imagine the doomslayer is actually like he would be if someone played the game perfectly. player skill shouldn’t be considered in my headcanons jahdjhgd) One could even argue he has fun at this, because there are some animations like ripping off a zombies arm and beating the Zombie with it, or feeding a demon it’s own heart.

I feel like that says a lot about his personality as well!

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t doubt himself. He doesn’t question his cause! He fights to get rid of the demons, not just the ones in his way, but every. demon. He will go out of his way to kill more demons. You could either take this as him having fun, or him following his own moral codex to get rid of every demon, or him being a not-quite-human war machine, or wanting to protect humanity from them.

I would say it’s a healthy mix of all that :D

In older games, there was this whole backstory snippet of him returning to earth, finding that the demons had invaded his planet but also killed his pet rabbit (Daisy), and he then goes onto a 2-game long revenge trip.Take that as you will.

The last thing i would like to mention is this post.

Please watch the video. Doomguy walks trough the rows of random human guards. This is the walk of a man who doesn’t owe them SHIT. Yes, he wants to save humanity. Yes, he cares. But he also knows who he is. He knows what he did, and what he will do. He doesn’t have to justify himself in front of these shady scientists and jerky guards.THEY owe HIM, in fact. This video emits the sheer CONFIDENCE of someone who has walked trough hell multiple times and knows none of these people could even touch him. Yes, he would never kill them. He would not harm humans. But he doesn’t care about making them uncomfortable with his presence, either. He doesnt ask for permission.

(i think by now i am using the exact same words they did in that post. really, its worth the read. i think there’s a lot of repeated things between this post and that post by now but i encourage you to watch that video. its worth it.)

Also, the impact he has on the people in this room! they trip. they walk backwards. they go quiet, stutter. they are intimidated. They know he’s technically here to help and save them, but now, standing in front of them.... just wow. it really puts things into perspective. it tells the player that all the demons that he’s killed, all that the doomslayer has done... its noted. it has an impact.

I’m not really sure where i’m going with this anymore, but watching those NPCs react to the slayers presence just adds so much more to his character. it tells us how people see him, and boy.... do they see him.

i think it also ties a lot into how the player is made feel, controlling doomguy. all these head stomping and limp tearing animations, the guns, people being scared, watching doomslayer destroy important equipment from first pirson or pushing open doors or whatever... it just gives me such an immense feeling of power! i can’t even describe it. (...it also has nothing to do anymore with the original question but holy shit did i love playing doom for the sheer atmosphere of it. despite me being horrible at playing.)

(at the end of this i’m realizing that all of this never addressed if doomslayer is happy and content murdering demons, or if he just wants his peace and quiet but can’t help himself every time he sees a demon. i would propose to leave that up to headcanons. mine is a mix of both but in a way that makes it not angsty. like he loves to have his calm moments, but is just as happy to rip some demon’s spine out. probably gets a little itchy and impatient if he hasn’t fought in a while.)

also if you’re interested in game design and way more professional people talking about why doom 2016 is great i reccomend this documentary

...anyways it’s past 1am and this has gotten way out of hand but

tl;dr: the doomslayer is metal as fuck, he has a lot of agenda he is following, and i love him so much

#amber talks #doom #where do i even begin with this?#i wanted to answer this in the morning but that was over an hour ago now #jdakjsdhasdjh i can't help myself theres so much to say about doom!!!!#you asked for this anon #it's just so... *clenches fist*#i forgot of course that the music is pretty much the best thing ever and i've been listening to it SO MUCH while writing litve #everything about this game is designed to make you feel powerful and HOLY SHIT is it working #id software did a great job #i watched a whole documentary on this it was great #...yeah i study 3d stuff this is pretty much in m #my field haha #i've just had all these feelings in me for months and now that someone showed the slightest hint of interest it's all coming out #sorry its so unorganized i tried to at least take one point after the other #now to write another essay on why the slayer and the mandalorian are very alike in some parts but mando is so much softer #(its because slayer has been trough hell and back while mando still has hope in the world)#(i mean mando is a jaded and tough bounty hunter but all that he is doomslayer is cranked up to eleven)#(shush now i said in another essay! go to bed)#(....its not gonna be an essay its gonna be a fanfic and its gonna be great)#(mando is such a softie......)#*pushes my mando/slayer agenda on my side blog as well* ah i see #long post #...very long post #hey i've hit 2k words with this!#....i've written litve chapters that are shorter #EDIT: WAIT FUCK I THINK I MIXED UP THE SECURITY GUARDS LINES WITH A FIC I READ ONCE #or did i gave EX that line in the last ask i answered????#i'm??? im gonna go to sleep lol

56 notes · View notes