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capturethechaos · 3 years

Text

Josh Kiszka x Reader

Words - 1474

Warnings - Marijuana use, tooth aching fluff ♡

Elevated | Daze | Baked

a/n - This is based on this ask, lemme know if y'all want me to do alts for the other boys. This had me and @amouratomique in our feels while I was writing it, so enjoy ♡

Y/n had been friends with the boys for years, being dragged to every jam sesh, bonfire and event in between.

Smoking was the one thing they would do that she would not participate in, it just never interested her. Though they would occasionally tease her about it, she never felt pressured by the boys into doing anything that made her uncomfortable. The thought had crossed her mind multiple times in the last while, but the uneasy feeling that sat within her remained, so she wouldn’t even bring it up with any of the boys.

The end of the week had rolled around after what felt like an eternity, and she knew as she walked out for her lunch break that she was ready. She pulled out her phone, already seeing a text from Josh asking about how her day at work had been so far, and she opened it, pressing the call icon and listening as it rang a couple times before he picked up.

“Hey Mama, how’s work going?” He asked, the sound of the boys chatting loudly in the background coming through almost as clearly as his own voice.

“Can I come over tonight and smoke with you?” She asked bluntly, getting into her car and slamming the door.

“You want to come over to smoke— Yeah I’m sure everyone would love to have you here, we can get some snacks and everything, it’ll be-”

“No— Josh— I meant just you and me. I love everyone, but I’d be more comfortable if it was just us, is that alright?” She asked, placing her phone on her leg as she pulled out her lunch.

“Y/n of course! I’ll meet you at your house after work, that way it can just be the two of us. How’s that sound?” He asked enthusiastically.

“Sounds great Joshy, thank you!” She said, getting even more excited at the thought of spending the night alone with her best friend.

The two hung up the call, Y/n spending the next half hour finishing her lunch before rushing back into work, impatiently waiting for the end of the day.

Seven o’clock finally came, and Y/n practically sprinted out of the building. Jumping in her car and racing home as fast as she could without being pulled over. Josh’s car was already parked out front as she pulled into her spot, fishing through her bag for her keys before leaving the car and walking into her apartment building.

When she opened her door she was welcomed by the sound of humming coming from the living room, drawing her in as she dropped her coat and bag, slipping off her shoes just before walking out of the front hallway. Her eyes opened in surprise when she caught sight of Josh adjusting a blanket on what looked like a pillow fort.

“Josh.” She said, her voice coming out breathy as she looked at the work he had done.

He looked up in shock, not expecting her to be home so soon. His look quickly changes from shock to excitement and he races up to her, scooping her up into a tight hug.

“I thought I’d make it as comfortable as possible for you.” He said, placing her back down on the ground.

He showed her around his creation, pointing out the pile of blankets and cushions on the floor for them to lay on, the basket of snacks filled to the brim with all of her favorites, and netflix open on her tv. Inside the pillow fort was incredible, a string of fairy lights hung from the top, illuminating the fort with a soft glow.

“Josh— you didn’t have to do all of this, I would have been fine smoking on my couch and watching cooking shows all night.” She said, leaning against him as they stood from their position looking into the fort.

“Like I said, mama, I want to make sure that you are completely comfortable with this.” Josh said, leaning his head down to look at her.

“I am always comfortable with you Josh.” She said, looking back at him with a smile.

“Promise.” He said, holding up his fist, his pinky extended towards her.

She hooked her own pinky into his, “promise.”

Josh’s smile widened, and Y/n was convinced that it could light up even the darkest night. Josh held her pinky as he pulled her towards the coffee table, a bag of pre rolled joints sitting there waiting for them.

“Okay, I was thinking we could share one, that way you don’t get as high on your first time.” Josh suggested, pulling a joint from the bag.

“Oh— yeah, sounds good to me.” She said, a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

All things considered, she should have seen this coming from a mile away; but the thought of sharing a joint in a small pillow fort, with her best friend that she has been in love with for years— it made her flustered as hell.

The two made their way back into the fort, Josh waiting until she was sitting comfortably beside him to light up the joint, taking a drag before passing it to her. He watched as she took a moderately long drag herself, handing it back to him as he watched her try to hold it in. His cautious optimism turned to mild awe as he watched her keep it in for a moment before blowing out, accompanied by some mild coughing.

“That was great! I was a mess the first time I took a hit, didn't stop coughing for like 10 minutes.” He said, taking the joint back from her.

Josh wanted to show off, locking eyes with Y/n as he attempted to french inhale his next hit. It didn’t go as planned, and he ended up having a small coughing fit, sending her into a fit of giggles. The sound made him smile, despite his failed attempt to look cool.

They passed the joint back and forth until it was gone, and after a few minutes of basking in the growing high, the phone rang to let them know that the pizza had arrived. Josh crawled out of the fort, leaving the apartment temporarily to open the door and pay for pizza. Y/n sat in the fort waiting for his return, staring at the soft fairy lights, her eyes becoming unfocused.

“Pizza for you, mama.” Josh said, entering the fort and placing one of the pizza boxes on her stomach.

“You’re the best Joshy.” She said, opening the box and pulling out a slice.

Josh watched as she hung the slice over her mouth, her hand wavering as she tried to get the end of the slice in her mouth. He took a slice of his own pizza, continuing to watch as she attempted to eat lying down. His gaze slid down her relaxed form, appreciating the way her chest slowly raised and collapsed with every breath, her left leg crossed over the right, the happy little wiggle she did when she took a bite of her pizza.

“How’s your pizza, bubba?” She asked, looking up to him through her lashes.

He gave her a bright smile as he took a big bite of his pizza, “delicious mama.”

The two ate what they could of the pizza, placing the boxes on the coffee table when they were done. Josh propped himself on the back of the couch, grabbing the remote and scrolling through Netflix looking for something to watch.

“What do you wanna watch?” He asked, looking down at Y/n, who was still laying on the floor.

“Big Mouth please.” She answered, looking up at him.

“Okay, you gonna come up here to watch, or are you gonna stay laying down?” He asked, keeping his eyes on her.

She gave him a small smile, turning over and crawling over to him. She lifted herself to a sitting position, falling into place against his chest, his arm falling across her shoulders as he found the show and pressed play. They sat in silence for a while watching the show, occasionally stealing glances at each other. Both would attempt to look when the other was paying attention to the tv, but on the off chance that their glassy eyes would meet, Josh would flash his earth shattering smile, and Y/n would melt further into him.

“Hey mama.” Josh said, looking down to her.

“Yes bubba?” She replied, keeping her gaze locked on the tv.

Warm fingers traced along her jaw, coming to a stop at her chin, tilting it up to face him.

“Can I kiss you?”

She didn’t respond, choosing to act instead. She lifted her head towards his, feeling his hand move back up her jaw, cupping her face as their lips met.

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, send me a dm, ask, or fill out my taglist form!

@the-chaotic-cow @prettyxvenomx @prettyintopeerpressure @amouratomique @eatmejoshkiszka @theweightofstardust @gretavanhoney

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka #josh gvf #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet

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whoopsieintheuniverse · 3 years

Text

Comfortable

AN: It’s herrrree! Illumi smut as promised. If you like this, feel free to commission me for your own, personalized smut with your favorite character!~ ko-fi.com/whoopsieintheuniverse

Also, this can be read as an addition to my Illumi series, or separately. This is honestly just tooth-rotting fluff and smut. No plot.

CW: body worship, Illumi. hair pulling and some spanking. Minors, pls do not interact. Thnks.

A hand rested on Y/N’s stomach. It stayed there, basking in the warmth it found, before trailing down and settling on plush thighs. Illumi regarded the sleeping figure tucked firmly into his form. Y/N. They differed from the Zoldycks, from Illumi, in every way. Where Illumi and his family were blood and iron, hard lines and even harder features, Y/N was like cotton on a cloud. Soft. Gentle. Comfortable.

Illumi allowed a smile to crack his stony expression. His hand that rested on Y/N’s thighs travelled back up to their stomach. He squeezed before trailing his nails up to their chest. Illumi paused and closed his eyes, allowing himself to count their heartbeats as their chest rose and fell.

Yes, this was comfortable. If he had to steal, to kill, it was no problem. He was used to carnage, destruction, death. Illumi was raised as a Zoldyck; he was to make the shadows his home, and death a constant ally. Illumi looked down again as Y/N snored. No, now he was home.

Y/N shifted again, pressing themselves further into Illumi’s embrace. He closed his eyes, basking in the warmth that they had to offer. Illumi pressed himself further into Y/N. Soft. Maybe he could have more…

Gently, Illumi reached up to Y/N’s face and stroked it. He breathed a kiss over their lips before whispering their name.

“Y/N. Wake up.”

Y/N groaned and turned over. Illumi shook their shoulders.

Blearily, Y/N smacked their lips together.

Illumi huffed humorlessly, and he slowly caged Y/N’s body under his. Illumi started to pepper kisses on Y/N’s cheek before trailing down to breathe on their collarbone.

“Illumi?”

Illumi grunted, continuing his movement. Y/N’s back arched as they felt teeth dig into their shoulder. Y/N looked down into Illumi’s eyes. They watched as his eyes crinkled before closing in bliss. Y/N laid back and relaxed into the bed, sighing as they felt their shirt lift from their body. They raised their back off the mattress to help Illumi undress them, and Y/N giggled as eagerly, Illumi’s hands found their shoulders and guided them back to the bed. Illumi’s tongue traced the curves of their chest, taking time to explore every dip Y/N’s body had to offer. Illumi’s lips caressed one of Y/N’s nipples before locking on tightly. Y/N hissed at the contact.

“‘Lumi. It’s the middle of the night. What’s gotten into you?” Instead of answering, Illumi’s right hand plucked at the empty space on Y/N’s chest while his other floated to the side of their face. Y/N leaned into his touch, sighing and smiling at the sight in front of them.

Illumi sensed Y/N’s eyes on him. With a soft pop, Illumi let go of Y/N’s chest, a thin string of saliva still connecting them together.

“I didn’t realize I’d have an audience,” Illumi said.

“You’re just so pretty, I couldn’t help myself.”

Illumi huffed again before quickly kissing the corner of Y/N’s mouth. Y/N took the time to run their fingers through his hair, appreciating the silk that ran through their fingers. Illumi sat back on his haunches, and he pulled Y/N closer into his lap. Y/N squealed as they felt themselves and Illumi fall back on their bed, and they shivered when they felt his lips connect with theirs once again.

Slowly, Illumi’s body started to rock against Y/N’s, and Y/N let out a gasp as they felt his clothed erection press into them.

“Mm.. Illumi…”

“Hm?”

Y/N sat up, straddling Illumi’s hips. They placed their hands on his chest and smiled as they felt him grind against their backside. Illumi gripped Y/N’s hips tightly, before moving his hands back to Y/N’s behind and reveling in the cushion he found. Y/N giggled as Illumi squeezed them, and they let out a squeak as they realized that Illumi was pushing them further up his body.

“‘Lumi, I don’t know,” Y/N trailed off. Illumi froze and looked up at Y/N, who was now straddling his chest.

“Did I misread the situation?” he asked.

Y/N felt their face and shoulders burn. They stared at Illumi’s forehead instead of meeting his eyes.

“We’ve never done this before.”

“No. We’ve had sex plenty of times, Y/N.”

Y/N groaned and tried to roll off of Illumi, but his grip stopped them.

“Not that,” Y/N said. “I mean, what you’re about to do.”

“Sorry, but now I’m even more confused. I’ve given you oral sex before as well, Y/N.”

“Not in this position, Illumi!”

“So?”

“I’m nervous. My thighs are bigger than your head.”

Suddenly, a slap sounded through the room. Y/N jumped as they felt a sting on their behind. Y/N looked down and was met with hunger in Illumi’s eyes. He looked up at them, and a small smile cracked across his face.

“I know.”

“Illu-hey!” Y/N’s body swayed as Illumi heaved them up to his mouth. They grunted as Illumi’s lips started to peck at their inner thighs. Y/N reached down and threaded their fingers through Illumi’s hair and bucked into his mouth as he started to suckle on them. Y/N grinded themselves against Illumi’s mouth, softly moaning as his tongue explored their core.

“Shit! Illumi…” Y/N rocked against his lips, and Illumi’s muffled chuckle sounded from between their thighs. Illumi’s hand came down again in a harsh strike on Y/N’s ass, and they moaned at the contact. Heat started to build in Y/N’s depths, and without warning, Illumi lifted Y/N from his mouth with a smack of his lips.

“What the hell? Tease!” Y/N complained. They tried to scramble back up to Illumi’s lips, but easily, Illumi flipped the pair over so that he was on top of Y/N. He sat back and examined Y/N’s form sprawled before him. Illumi let his hands grope their stomach, squeezing the soft flesh. His hand travelled down to Y/N’s parted thighs, and Y/N moaned again when his fingertips found their saliva slick center. One finger breached Y/N’s center, and Y/N hand flew down to grab at Illumi’s wrist.

“Too much?” Illumi asked. Y/N nodded, and carefully, Illumi withdrew his finger and crept to the side of his bed to retrieve a small bottle of lube. Y/N watched as Illumi slicked his fingers and returned to part Y/N open again. This time, Y/N hissed at the cold, but soon found themselves rocking along to Illumi’s movement’s inside of them. Slowly, the heat Y/N lost just moments before started somersaulting in their stomach. Still, it wasn’t enough.

“Lumi...want more…” Y/N said. Illumi tilted his head before nodding. Y/N watched as Illumi freed himself from his briefs. They licked their lips, eyes fixated on the straining flesh in front of them.

“Illumi...” Y/N whined. Illumi trapped Y/N underneath them, bringing their legs up to wrap around his waist. Y/N let out a breath as Illumi ground against him. Their nails raked down his back, and they bit their lip as Illumi prodded their entrance. Y/N squirmed at the intrusion and moaned as Illumi captured their lips in another searing kiss. Slowly, Illumi started to rock into Y/N, carefully caressing their sides. Illumi buried his face into their neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Y/N scratched at Illumi’s back, and their hands found their way to his behind. Illumi groaned as he felt Y/N press into his backside, spurring him on.

“Harder...please. More.”

Illumi’s hips rolled and Y/N moaned as he started to pick up the pace. The heat in their core ignited again. Illumi’s hips slapped against theirs brutally, and tears pricked the corners of Y/N’s eyes. Illumi’s hands found purchase against Y/N’s thighs; he lifted them into his hands and pulled Y/N even closer to him. Y/N wailed at the change in angle. So close, yet so far away. Each strike of Illumi’s hips sent them further careening into bliss. The room was heavy and hot, the muffled sounds of gasps and pleasured moans sounding off into the night. Y/N’s skin was ablaze, and a sheen of sweat started to cover them. Y/N looked up at Illumi, and found themselves staring at deep, dark eyes full of desire and love. Just as Illumi started to hit the spot that made Y/N see stars, Illumi dropped and draped his body over Y/N’s. Illumi pressed his forehead to Y/N’s, and Y/N smiled as they felt his breath ghost over their eyelashes.

“Y/N,” Illumi breathed.

Sensing how close they both were, Y/N reached for Illumi’s hand and wrapped their fingers around it tightly.

“Illumi, sweetie. Cum with me, okay?”

Illumi inhaled sharply and groaned. Y/N reached up and threaded their fingers through Illumi’s hair, tugging lightly as they went. They watched with glee as his eyes rolled back and his lips parted to let out a breathy moan. Y/N’s legs stretched and clamped around Illumi as the pressure in the pit of their stomach hit its breaking point. Y/N was first to tumble off that cliff, with Illumi chasing them not long after. Y/N whimpered, overstimulated, as Illumi slowed inside of them, sighing in relief when he stopped. Illumi and Y/N stayed connected, hearts slowing and breath quieting down to a lull. After a while, Y/N started to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Illumi asked.

Y/N shrugged with a smile on their face.

“I don’t know. It’s funny I guess...I’m just...I’m comfortable...like this. With you. I’m comfortable.”

Illumi fell silent for a moment, before placing a small kiss on Y/N’s forehead.

“I am as well.”

#illumi zoldyck #illumi #illumi x chubby reader #x chubby reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #illumi zoldyck x chubby reader #hxh #hxh x reader #hxh x chubby reader #Hunter X Hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x chubby reader

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getthembees · 3 years

Note

Royai prompt: They get caught gettingiton by all of Team Mustang, pre frat rules being lifted. (Or making out, if you wanna keep it PG~ honestly I just wanna see the members of Team ‘We-All-Share-The-Same-Braincell’ finding their very professional bosses not being very professional.)

Hello sorry this took so long!! It's here now! This is also a lot more tender than what I think you were expecting haha

Title: flash flood under my bed

Rating: T

Read it here or on AO3

Riza feels herself stretched between the realm of consciousness as if her body is being hauled through a swamp. Sticky and lethargic, her eyelids flutter and fall as her mind claws at the mud. Each time she resurfaces from its depths she can take the world in for only a second—a burning light above her, a white ceiling tile, thin sheets beneath her arms—before she is submerged once again, dragged into the grime.

Her mind wakes before her body does, kicking at the shallows to keep her eyes open. Fear creeps up the back of her neck at the foreign bed under her, the unfamiliar room. She wills her body to move, to secure her surroundings. Her eyes drag to her right, blinking sluggishly at the figure there.

Black hair. It’s messy. Who is that again? A small part of her asks.

Silly girl, a larger part supplies, rattling through her entire body, that’s your Colonel.

My Colonel…

She finally blinks awake, eyes wide. Her body feels like it’s been dumped in ice water after being in a hot spring. She turns her head.

Roy does not acknowledge her movement, he sits on a borrowed hospital chair at the side of her bed, head bowed, fingers twisted in the bedsheets. His eyes are closed.

Her memories catch up with the rest of her—the tunnels, Bradley, Pride, the transmutation circle—she swallows back a choked noise. Her throat is rubbed raw from both the exertion and the yelling, her tongue feels like it’s been turned to cotton, and when she swallows again she tastes iron.

“Colonel…,” she rasps, but it comes out more of a cough than a word.

He hears it, though, and his head shoots up, eyes opening to reveal foggy pupils as he looks in the direction he thinks her head is. “Lieutenant—” he gasps, a quiet noise. Maybe he’s been swimming in a swamp, too. “Lieutenant, are you awake?”

Riza nods. Realizes he cannot see her. She hums an answer instead.

A grin splits his face, and it is a look so utterly relieved that she feels her eyes misting, “I’m so glad,” he whispers, breathless, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She wants to answer, wants it more than anything at this moment. To reach out and reassure him with words he’ll need now that he cannot see, to talk, finally, now that the battle is over. But her throat still tastes like metal, and she desperately needs a drink.

“Water,” she croaks, reaching feebly for the table at her bedside.

“Oh, right.” Roy traces the edge of her bed until his hand hits the table leg, brushing upwards until he closes his hand gingerly around the full glass. She meets his hand halfway, closing her fingers around his bandaged skin as he moves the cup to where he thinks her head is.

Riza sits up, the wound in her shoulder smarts as she does so, but she ignores it in favor of guzzling the water, only stopping to gulp down air.

When the cup is empty, and her throat feels less like it’s full of copper cenz, she opens her mouth. “Thank you, Colonel,” she starts, she almost says I’m glad you’re okay, too. But he isn’t okay, his hands are wrapped in gauze, and he’s still blind. What a poor excuse for a bodyguard you are, her mind spits.

“How long have you been waiting here?” She asks instead, an innocent question, a safe question.

“A couple of hours, I think. Though I really can’t tell,” he laughs, but it sounds strained. A string pulled taut. “You’ve been asleep for longer, It took the medics a while to bring me here. How is your neck? Your shoulder?”

“Sore, they itch a little, too. Mei Chang did a fine job, it’s not as bad as it could be.”

His mouth creases in a thin line at the memory of her, the blood, the gold-toothed doctor. “I suppose you’re right. It seems I am indebted to her for saving my precious subordinate’s life.”

Precious. Riza ignores the warmth in her chest and eases back onto her pillow with a heavy sigh. “How are your hands, sir?” She doesn’t ask about his eyes, she knows Amestrian medics don’t have the means to restore his sight from the other side of the gate.

Roy’s head tilts down as if to look at the bandaged limb before he catches himself, snapping his head upwards like it was pulled by a hook. “The surgery was quick, and the doctor said they’ll heal fine. The cuts were clean. Neat, even.” He shoots her a lopsided smile, “still hurts like a bitch to move, though.”

Riza doesn’t have the energy to laugh, her lips quirk instead. “That’s good, Colonel.”

There’s a lull, a tension settles in the air like lightning is about to strike the very room they sit. She hasn’t felt this uneasy in his presence since Ishval. Riza takes a breath, “sir—”

“I am very sorry, Hawkeye.”

Riza freezes, staring at him. She doesn’t speak, she senses he’s not quite finished.

“I apologize for… for everything that happened in those tunnels. For losing my head fighting the homunculus, for yelling at you, for my… attachment to you getting you hurt,” he looks up, and despite the blind gaze, she feels his eyes bore into hers. “I was reckless. Arrogant to think they’d never hold you against me and a fool for thinking I was a good enough man that you would never have to pull your gun on me.”

“Please,” he begs, bowing his head. “Please forgive me, Hawkeye.”

She inhales slowly, turning his words over in her head. She remembers the terror in his voice as he watched her get dragged to the transmutation circle. “You don’t have to apologize for what happened with the doctor. That wasn’t your fault, sir. It was never your fault that they decided to use me against you. You could never have prevented that.” Roy looks like he wants to argue, she forges on, “do not apologize for being a human, Colonel. You are bound to have people close to you. Any one of those could have been used against you, to drop them for any potential threat is a foolish paranoia. Our…” relationship? Partnership? Friendship? “...proximity is nothing to apologize for. I will not have it.”

She pauses, clenching her hands against the pristine sheets of her bed. The battle with Envy flits through her head like an old film, her Colonel’s savagery seems branded in her mind. Riza takes a deep breath. “You lost yourself against Envy. You lost yourself in your anger, and you said horrible things. You almost did horrible things. You pushed me away, Colonel. But…,” she looks at him, his fingernails are digging into the fabric of his pants, knuckles white.

She remembers what he had said to her months prior, before she had been reassigned. I’ve been called a human weapon, a monster, but it’s only when I’m fighting a real monster that I realize I’m just a human. She rests her hand on his, his fingers relax under her touch.

“You didn’t go past the point of no return. You didn’t lose your humanity, Roy.”

Roy sucks in a breath, the sound rattled and hollowed. It makes him look fragile. She curls her fingers around his palm.

“So…,” she begins, her voice no more than a whisper, he leans his head towards her. “I forgive you, Roy Mustang. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Roy turns his hand upwards, slipping his fingers between hers. His eyes are closed again, and there is a small, shaky smile on his face. “I don’t know why you’re forgiving me so easily. You shouldn’t.”

“Well, I’ve never listened to everything you have to say, sir.”

Laughter bubbles from his lips, the sound warm. The knot of stress in his voice seems to have unwound. He bows his head, his forehead nearly touching hers. “Thank you, Ha— Riza.” She can make out the small, newly healed scratches on his face from this distance. “Truly, for everything, thank you.”

The hand he has clasped in hers untangles their fingers and reaches up to trace along the inside of her wrist, up against the length of her arm, her uninjured shoulder, the side of her face, until he sweeps the loose hair that falls over her eyes behind her ear. The movement is slow, tentative, cautious of her injuries and his own blindness. Riza leans into his palm and hums, a soft encouragement. She pushes up on her elbows as his finger traces her cheek, her jaw.

Riza reaches up to hold his hand in hers once more, grasping at his knuckles, brushing against the bandages on his palm. The tension that had crackled before isn’t vicious now. It is still there, palpable in the air, but it doesn’t threaten a flashover, lingering instead with the promise of summer rain.

Roy leans in and pauses a breath away from her, unsure if he’s welcome or unsure where she is, Riza can’t tell, but she huffs a laugh nonetheless. Still useless in the rain, I suppose, she thinks with a smile, and closes the gap for him.

Warmth blooms in her chest and she feels a rush of lightheadedness. This. This is what had been building in them since before the Promised Day, before the homunculi, in the budding years of their partnership. The kiss says a million things, it is the culmination of a thousand stares, a thousand late-night dinners, a thousand confessions buried under propriety and mumbled words. Roy’s palm flexes against her cheek, his other hand moves to grasp at her waist, the heat of his grip searing over her thin hospital gown. Her own hands reach up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Now that she has allowed herself to touch him, she never wants to stop.

Roy has the same mindset, the hand on her waist traveling up and down her side, never quite stilling even as it moves to her lower back, pressing gently into her spine as he tilts into her. His lips are soft, unfairly so when hers are still chapped, and when he opens his mouth to scrape his teeth against her bottom lip she lets out a noise that makes her flush spread to her chest.

They break away only for a heartbeat before meeting again. Roy leans over her now, and a reasonable voice in the back of her head whispers that, maybe, she shouldn’t let her commanding officer press her into a creaky hospital mattress in a crowded building with a door that is, presumably, unlocked.

Riza ignores this thought in favor of pulling down his collar so she can kiss the length of his neck. He grumbles low in his throat, and she feels the noise against her tongue.

She’ll be damned if they stop this now, after years of nothing, she wants nothing more than to lie with him here forever. The bed dips where Roy props up his knee, and she leaves his collarbones to seal their lips again.

And— yes, yes. She refuses to let this go— not when Roy squeezes the skin of her outer thigh, not when she allows herself to rub the wide expanse of his back through the thin hospital shirt, not when he presses his tongue between the seam her lips and makes that noise—

Someone in the room coughs.

Roy freezes just as Riza wrenches herself away from him, face flaming as she whips her head to look for the source of the noise.

Breda stands at the door, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Fuery and Falman flank him, the former of whom has turned a dangerous shade of red and has cast his gaze downwards to lock eyes with the suspiciously Hayate-shaped lump under his jacket. Falman is thin-lipped and tense, his shoulders pressed up against his neck, he averts his eyes to a space in the far corner.

Rebecca stands behind them, body halfway through the door, with the smuggest grin stretched across her face. Riza feels a headache coming on.

“Apologies for the interruption, sirs,” Breda deadpans, raising an eyebrow and shooting her a look that says, really? Riza clears her throat self-consciously. “We just came in to visit the Lieutenant.”

“We can leave if you’re… preoccupied,” Rebecca says, trying, and failing, to stifle her laughter with a cough.

Roy had settled back into his chair as soon as they spoke, his back straight. “That’s quite alright, Second Lieutenant. I’m sure Hawkeye would enjoy the company.” The professionalism in his voice belies the red of his ears. She’s sure the team doesn’t notice, far away as they are, but the attempt amuses her nonetheless.

Breda strolls in, determined to pretend that nothing abnormal has happened, Falman follows in his example, although he has yet to meet her eyes, and Fuery avoids the dilemma entirely by pulling Black Hayate from his jacket and placing him on the floor. Her puppy bounds across the floor, his entire body moving with the wag of his tail.

“Hayate!” Riza cheers as he leaps onto the bed with her, tilting his head as she scratches behind his ears. She pulls him to her chest, pressing her face into his fur, “I’m so glad you’re okay, Braha. You’re such a good boy.”

Hayate chuffs in response, leaning into her hold as his tail whacks her arms. She lays a kiss on his head.

Rebecca sidles up to the bed, brushing the fur between Hayate’s shoulder blades. “It was the Sergeant Master’s idea to sneak him past the staff,” she supplies, nodding back at the man in question.

Fuery rubs the back of his head, meeting her eyes for the first time since he’s entered. “Well, they probably saw him and just ignored it, really. He couldn’t keep his tail still.”

“Maybe a nurse should’ve stopped us. Then you two could have continued with your catch-up time,” she cackles, failing to smother the noise into her fist, and shoots Riza an exaggerated wink.

Roy huffs, his arms crossed over his chest, “I think we get the picture, Catalina.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re thinking up quite the picture, Colonel—”

“Thank you, Fuery,” Riza cuts in before the bickering could devolve further, “I appreciate it.”

Fuery gives her a nervous smile, “It was no problem at all, Lieutenant, really.”

“Still,” she looks over the rest of the group, “I’m glad you all visited, and that you’re all uninjured.”

Breda waves his hand dismissively. “Yeesh, I didn’t know you were such a sap, Lieutenant. Of course we’d visit,” he cups a hand to his face like he’s about to tell a secret, “It would be cruel for us to leave you here alone with the Colonel for God knows how long.”

“Har har,” Roy mocks as the rest of the room snickers, “if you’re going to be a pest, Breda, you should have at least brought some food with you.”

Breda rolls his eyes, just as Falman pulls a paper baggy from his coat pocket. “One monte cristo and one turkey, lettuce, and tomato sandwich from Zullo’s Deli,” he states in the same tone of voice he delivers his mission reports.

Riza thanks him as he hands her the baggy, she slides Roy his monte cristo as she unwraps her own sandwich. Hayate watches the food curiously while giving her a particularly pathetic look. “No begging,” she tells him, and he lowers his head to her lap once more.

Roy nearly groans as he manhandles his food, “Falman, you are a saint.”

Riza takes a bite of her food, savoring the taste. It tastes like liquid gold on her tongue, but, she supposes, even food from the trash would taste impeccable right now. She nudges Rebecca with her elbow, “did you bring anything for yourselves?”

Rebecca shrugs. “Nah, we already ate about an hour ago. We plan on staying here to chat while you two eat, assuming that’s fine with you.”

“Of course it’s fine, as long as you find your own chairs,” she responds, scanning the room for seating. It’s relatively barren, with there only being two guest chairs in the room, one of which Roy currently claimed. Rebecca took the other chair, pulling it closer to Riza’s bedpost while the other men in the room piled onto Roy’s empty bed.

The team recounts their friend’s whereabouts as they finish their sandwiches. The Elric’s had been admitted soon after she had, and Alphonse currently resides in quarantine, with his only visitor being his brother. Reconstruction of the Central Command building had begun as well, led by Grumman and his men.

They keep the conversation light, they don’t talk about the death toll, or the injured. No one mentions the clouded sheen over Roy’s eyes.

Riza brushes her finger against Roy’s knuckle while the rest of the room laughs at something Breda said. She taps twice, lingering a second before pulling away. His hand chases hers as it retreats, catching it and curling his pinky finger around hers. He taps back, once, twice, thrice. Repeating the motion in sync with the steady beating of her pulse.

#royai #fma #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #fullmetal alchemist #my writing #this has been sitting in my drafts for like four months I'm so sorry LMAO

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spookyceph · 3 years

Text

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

#big sis magne #bnha magne #mha magne #magne #shigaraki fic #league of villains fanfiction #league of villains fanfic #lov fanfiction #lov #league of villains #fic series #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #kurogiri #giran #bnha giran

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sanktnikolais · 4 years

Text

lost in the echo

A/N: this was supposed to be posted some time later before the actual release of Rule of Wolves, but it’s been released early so :>

or me just finding an excuse to write demon Nik going feral after seeing Zoya hurt :>

Word count: 3591

The King continues to fight his battle with his own demon. After seeing his General hurt in the war that they had fought tooth and nail for, Nikolai is one step closer to letting the darkness consume him.

Pain.

It was something that Nikolai knew so well and yet he could never get used to it. Whether it was entirely physical or emotional, it was always there, lurking and lingering like his own shadow.

Why?

The question came to his mind as another shout tore from his throat. It sounded almost like a wail, a desperate call for help. For himself? For his people? For everyone else that died in every war the country had been under for centuries?

For Ravka?

A head-splitting ache hit him, and he doubled over. He held onto the feeling, that one fleeting moment he felt the ground under his hands, before he was back to trying to regain control again. But despite the war for control in his mind, he realized that for once, there was one thing he and the demon shared the same sentiment—revenge.

For what?

Images flashed in his eyes. A shade of blue rushing towards him. A crack of gunshot. Blood. The excruciating pain in his chest.

Then nothing.

You cannot even protect and save her, young king.

There was another piercing pain in his chest, and this time, it felt like his heart was being torn out from his chest as he remembered looking at Zoya’s frail, bleeding form in his arms—

Zoya? Did something happen to her?

At that, the demon pushed back for control. The urge—the need—to destroy everything in his path was suddenly stronger than his will to get back to himself. Fury was the only thing driving him forward. Nothing else mattered.

Yield, demon king, there's nothing else you can do for her, the monster said. Let the darkness come and take over.

Nikolai closed his eyes and calmed.

Let go.

He felt the monster’s claws on his shoulders, its grip tightening as the shadows slowly shrouded him in a veil of hushed whispers and angry voices. It felt almost natural, like welcoming a long lost friend after being apart for so long. Because in reality, he never really got free from the darkness the Darkling inflicted upon him; it chose the right time to let itself show again, when he was backed in a corner without any means of escape aside from accepting the demon that lurked within his heart.

Perhaps it was the main reason why it never left him, so he would have a last resort to turn to when things left him with no other choice.

All else faded to a blur, and then to darkness, his thoughts flitting away as if they were mere leaves easily carried by the winds until there was nothing left other than rage.

Talons extended from his scarred hands again, followed by the sound of an inhuman growl coming out from his lips. His wings burst from his back, and he braced his feet on the ground to launch himself in the air—

Giving up so easily, King Wretch?

He froze. That voice—it sounded so familiar. Where had he heard it? He was sure he knew it.

A heavy feeling stirred in his chest, the nagging sensation of something begging to be released, to be free. He held on to that, a small speck of light amidst the endless darkness. For a moment, his mind quieted. Even the demon stayed silent, lurking. Listening.

It came again shortly after. This is not who you are.

But who was he? The nagging feeling became heavier and stronger as if something was forcing its way out and trying to escape whatever confines caged it down.

An irritated hiss escaped his mouth. It had come from the demon, the sound coming out like it was in pain. The question still lingered in his mind. Who was he?

The claws around his shoulders loosened, the shadows started to dissipate. He could still feel the monster reach out for them, but this time, he himself was holding back.

Who was he?

Come back to me, Nikolai.

Then there was like the sound of a glass shattering, and everything came rushing back to him.

Nikolai opened his eyes and fought back.

As he had expected, the monster tried to pull him back, its grip on him becoming much stronger than before. Still fighting the losing battle, young king?

He gritted his teeth. He knew the monster was goading him, throwing him off by telling him he was already losing. But he also knew it was starting to get weaker fighting against his sudden, newfound strength that allowed him to resurface again.

�� And it definitely didn't know how many times he had been backed to a corner and yet still found a way out.

Yield, the demon demanded again.

"I am the King of Ravka," he said, his voice hoarse from the demon's control but it was nevertheless his. "I do not yield to anyone."

But then the monster decided to show him his failure: Zoya taking the bullet that was meant for him.

For a moment, his will faltered, and the demon grabbed the chance to push the knife deeper into his resolve—into his heart.

You cannot do anything for her.

A shout of pure anguish tore from his throat as his mind focused on the person that mattered the world to him.

Zoya saving him from falling in the Fold. Zoya staying up with him most nights to grudgingly help him with the ton of correspondence. Zoya defending them from the dukes that dared to insult them during political gatherings. Zoya staying in his chambers and holding his hand tightly when his fears got the better of him.

Zoya, always Zoya.

And yet you failed her.

The shadows overwhelmed him again, suffocating him. He knew he must fight them back but his resolve started crumbling again.

It was no use. He failed her. He failed her like he had failed Dominik, and then Alina.

Now everyone else.

And yet a small part of him still pushed back and never believed Zoya was gone. Because he would know. She was the other half of his soul, the other end of the red string tied around his wrist. There wasn't a single thing that she wasn't to him.

She was all and everything more.

"She's still alive," Nikolai growled, and he felt the demon flinch like it had been burned. "I have not failed her. Only at the untimely end of my short life will I ever stop protecting her, then I will continue doing so in the next one I’ll live."

The monster cackled, and it could only do so much as its grip on him loosened again. He pushed back, feeling its clutches around him go weaker and weaker.

Come back, her voice from the day he took the thornwood to his heart echoed in his mind again, and he held onto it like his lifeline. Promise you'll come back to us.

Come back to me, Nikolai.

"I will."

The demon let out an angry hiss, the last threads of its ties around him snapping, and it grudgingly shrunk back to whatever darkness it hid.

Then there was nothing.

***

There was still pain when Nikolai finally opened his eyes. But it was more of the physical rather than the one inside his heart.

His vision swirled as it slowly adjusted to the surroundings. The sky was bathed in a bright orange glow, the first signs of the approaching nightfall. It was when he realized that he was lying on the ground somewhere in the middle of the woods.

He sat up, but immediately regretted it when pain shot up to his side, making him stop his movements. Where was he? And how did he get here?

As if to answer his question, his head throbbed, and it hurt enough for him to double over to his side. Everything tilted sideways again.

"Saints," Nikolai groaned. He blinked several times to clear his vision, and when it adjusted again, he stopped.

Amidst the dimming light from the sky and the dark scars on his hands, he saw a single thread of a blue ribbon clutched in his palm.

The memory flashed back in his mind. Zoya fighting beside him. Zoya pushing him out of harm's way. Zoya bleeding in his arms. Zoya's hand falling from where she touched his face.

Zoyazoyazoyazoya—

"Zoya." Nikolai's voice trembled when he called her name. "Zoya!" He looked around wildly, as if she would appear in front of him, alive and well, scowling at him and demanding him where he had been. But she didn't.

Tears fell from his eyes. Find her. He pushed up to his feet, forcing himself to stay upright, though his surroundings were swaying.

Find her.

Tying the blue ribbon around his wrist, he limped forward. And even when his body screamed in pain, he continued on. There was no assurance that he was going in the right direction, but it was better than staying put and not doing anything. Nikolai would trust his instincts.

Find her.

The woods seemed to be endless, the cluster of trees becoming thicker as he walked deeper into the forest. He didn’t know how long he had been walking—minutes? Hours? Days? He didn’t know. His foot found an uneven surface on the ground, and Nikolai stumbled forward. "She's alright," he hissed through the pain that shot up to his hands when he fell. With another growl of frustration, he repeated, "She's alright."

She had to be. He didn’t know what he would do if she wasn’t.

“I’m coming back to you, Zoya,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried not to think of the worst case scenario that made another wave of tears fall from his eyes. He tried to push back up to his feet, but the images of Zoya looking so small and so frail in his arms kept appearing in his mind, and it made him feel weaker than he already was. “I’m coming back to you.”

Get up, then, he chastised through his lamenting. Get up and find her.

Whatever strength he had before was slowly fading, dissipating into the thin air. The thought of seeing Zoya again was the only thing driving him forward. He wasn’t going to let go of that smallest sliver of hope he had in his heart, but its spark that continued to light his path was dwindling the more he tried to stay optimistic.

Optimism was his strong suit, but it could also be the one to bring down the axe and shatter his heart for being too hopeful.

“She’s alright,” Nikolai repeated, but the saints knew how it was getting harder for him to convince himself that she was. His next words came out in a desperate, begging sob. “Zoya, please.”

The blue ribbon around his wrist caught his gaze, the sight of it causing another sob from his throat. He clutched it to his chest as the sobs continued to rack out from his body. The helplessness he was feeling overpowered his logic. This wasn’t the time to grieve over things that he wasn’t sure of yet. But for someone who had always used his heart over his head, he could only do so much not letting his emotions take over.

It’s not you to let your guard down and quit, Lantsov, her voice came again, steady and strong like her will to set things right, the personality that Nikolai had grown to love dearly. Oh, how he wished to hear her voice again. Up on your feet, Your Highness.

A huffed laugh escaped his lips through his tears. Even in his imagination, she lingered. He really was a goner for her.

With the last ounce of strength he had, he willed his tears to stop and forced himself back up to his feet. He would come back to her. He would always come back to her, even if it meant fighting another thousand lifetimes and wars. Anything for her.

Nikolai took the path forward again. He hadn't gone that far when there was a rustle of leaves somewhere nearby. There wasn't a time for him to find a place to hide when there were suddenly people coming out from the bushes in front.

One moment he was standing upright, then the next second he was doubling over, gasping for breath. He fell down to his knees with his hand braced on the ground and the other on his chest.

"What—" He stopped. Grisha.

There was a series of clicks that followed, and the feel of the barrel of a rifle being trained at his temple.

"Identify yourself."

If Nikolai wasn't being deprived of his ability to breathe, he knew he still would stop breathing when he heard the voice. Tears stung his eyes, and it wasn't because of being suffocated to death.

Could it be—

He lifted his head up. His current state made it very difficult, but he forced his way through the restrain.

And when his eyes met with the familiar blue ones that always appeared in his dreams, Nikolai felt as if he could breathe freely again.

Her grip on her powers faltered, and he drew in a breath when his airway cleared.

She's alive.

The soldier holding the gun to his head sprung back, going down on his knees instantly with his rifle to the ground. His other First Army companions followed suit, but Nikolai couldn't acknowledge them, not when his mind had tunneled to focusing on her, and only her.

Tamar and Tolya stood their ground, relief obvious on their expressions, though there was still a lingering suspicion in their eyes.

His legs trembled as he slowly stood up. She's alive. Tears stung his eyes again, and he didn't bother to hold them back. He didn't care if the King of Ravka was crying openly. He didn't care if it was in front of his soldiers that expected him to be the tough figurehead he was supposed to be.

There was only one thing that mattered to him right now.

Nikolai took a step forward, his heart in his throat. His voice trembled when he called her name. "Zoya—"

Tamar held out an axe and pointed it at him, making him stop abruptly. Confusion clouded his mind when he stared back at the woman, and then at Zoya.

Her eyes were bright, the longing in them not unnoticeable by him, who had been too blind to see the same looks being sent his way ever since he announced his engagement. What an utter fool, he was.

Zoya lifted her chin, the stoic face of the General of Ravka returning, and her voice was shaking when she said, "How do we know it's you?"

Nikolai huffed a laugh. Of course, precautions first before anything. He gave her a grin through his tear-stained face. "Is there any other king this handsome and idiotic and also afraid of spiders in suit?" he said. It was nonsense and he didn't know what else he could say. He just desperately wanted to run to her and pull her in his arms. "Should I retell the time I once tried to butcher geese?"

There was a short silence, and then he heard Zoya let out a disbelieving breath, but there was only an obvious relief on her expression. She looked tired; her bloodshot eyes gave away the worry she’d seemed to have since he disappeared, and her slightly pale skin and strained only meant she was still reeling from her injury.

And yet when he looked at her, he couldn’t think of anything else to describe her other than beautiful.

Tamar let out a light laugh and lowered her axe. Her face softened when she gave him a smile and a nod, mouthing, "Good to see you, Your Highness."

He mirrored her smile with his own before he turned his attention back to Zoya, his heart reaching out to her, the missing piece he had been finding for a long time. But she was already running towards him, her steps rushed as if the world would crumble down under her feet if she didn't reach him fast enough.

Nikolai met her halfway, his arms wide open as their bodies collided in a tight embrace, and finally, his heart was whole again.

She’s alright. She’s breathing. She’s alive.

“You’re alright,” he said, burying his face to her hair. He felt her arms tighten around his neck, and the feel of her warmth against him only made it clear that this was real. Another sob racked his body when he said, “Oh, saints. You’re alive.”

Zoya let out a tired laugh. “You’re a mess,” she said against his neck as her hand came to clutch at his back. “You were gone for most of the day so I guess it’s only fair.”

Nikolai pulled away just enough to look down in her eyes, seeing the old fire that never stopped burning even at their worst times, the same one that he thought was extinguished when she saved his life. She had always been the light to his darkness, the healing to his pain, and he vowed he would keep it that way even if he had to give his life over and over again.

He reached a hand to her cheek as his eyes searched her face. “I thought I lost you,” he breathed, his voice coming out broken when another wave of tears hit him. His vision blurred. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face to his palm, her fingers coming around his wrist to rub soothing circles to his pulsepoint. “You worry too much,” she said. There was a smirk on her lips that she usually had, and it washed away the worry off her face. But the moment was short-lived, because she was suddenly heaving, her eyebrows knitting tightly together as if she were in pain. Her hand tightened on his wrist as a tear fell from her closed eyes. And then in a broken whisper, she said, “I thought I lost you too.”

“I guess we both worried for each other so much today,” Nikolai murmured, resting his forehead against hers. He brought his other hand to her face and closed his eyes as well. “I’m here now.”

“You weren’t there when I woke, Nikolai,” said Zoya. Tears he never thought he would see her shed again fell freely from her eyes. “They said you were gone and I couldn’t do anything—”

“Zoya, Zoya, my love,” he said, tilting her face up to his, and she opened her eyes. There was both fear and desperation in them, the same one she had when her amplifiers broke in the Fold. He gave her reassuring smile. "You saved me. Just like always." He gently wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "You did everything you can, and it gave me another chance to live. Never forget that."

Zoya searched his eyes frantically, possibly to see if there were some underlying lies in his words. But if there was something Nikolai didn't want to do, it was to lie to her. They had faced enough problems to fill up for their next lives, shed blood and tears fighting for their forsaken country, for them just to let lies hang between them as their thread to keep them together.

They were the King and the General. The Too-Clever Fox and the Stormwitch. Nikolai and Zoya.

They were two halves of a whole, the one wouldn't function well without the other.

Together, they completed each other.

Without any more hesitation in her eyes, Zoya pulled him down to her level and pressed her mouth to his.

It was like coming home, the warm and light feeling in your chest when encountering something so familiar, and it was all Nikolai could have dreamed how kissing Zoya Nazyalensky would be like.

Years of longing stares and stolen glances and conversations that had hid their true feelings flowed through their kiss, the love they had been trying to hide burning brighter than any light that shone in the night.

Nikolai was aware of the people around them, of what they could have been thinking as they witnessed the king and his general crossing the line they had set for themselves, and yet he didn't care. Neither of them did. He buried his hand to her hair as his other arm snaked around her waist to pull her even closer to him, and Zoya responded by kissing him deeper, her lips opening under his.

The war was still ongoing but they could have this one stolen moment for just the two of them.

A moment that had been long overdue.

When the need for air became stronger than the taste of each other's lips, Nikolai reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead back to hers. She still had her eyes closed and he could feel her breaths ghosting on his lips.

"I love you," Zoya said, and it left him floored in euphoria after hearing those sweetest words from her mouth. She opened her eyes to look back at him. "I love you so much."

He huffed a laugh, feeling as if his heart would burst with all his love for her any second. This was more than he could have asked for. With a contented sigh, he said, "I love you too, General."

And when he met her halfway as she pulled him down to kiss him again, Nikolai finally felt the one thing he had always longed for.

Peace.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #my writing #DEMON NIK #anyways will post this now before ROW completely shatters my soul (hopefully)#nik going feral bc of seeing zoya hurt #:>#i just think that's neat #unedited we die like men #this has become longer than necessary #but no regrets #HAVE THIS MESS FROM ME PLS #MAY WE ALL LIVE AFTER ROW

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sunfloweroranges · 3 years

Text

𝔼𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕪 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝓕𝓮𝓶!𝓖𝓸𝓳𝓸 𝔁 𝓝𝓫!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝙰/𝙽

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚆𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚢'𝚜 𝟽𝟶𝟶 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚋 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝! 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛!! 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!✨ 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜: 𝟷𝟸“𝙸 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝙶𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚛.” 𝟸𝟽“𝙸 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚖.”

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜:𝟷.𝟷𝚔

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜:𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏; 𝚢𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚣𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏-; 𝚆𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜; 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

𝟻:𝟶𝟶 ᴀᴍ ‧ That very number glared red hues into Y/n’s face as they turned to smack the annoying clock off. Their hand reached over to the slightly protruding button and pushed it shushing the device into slumber once more, the blessed silence filled their ears- The silence that was broken by a creaking of bed springs, a deep frown dug into Y/n’s brows, their mood close to getting ruined before the day even begun, it was 5am, on a Saturday.. WEEKEND- but to some it was a day of hunt…

· · · · · ·

Determined aura, almost threatening one spilled from the very presence of the white haired woman as she pulled her hand out to grab a frilly apron colored with baby blues and a text embroided on it saying ‘𝒦𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜��𝑔𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓀’ In a swirly font where the word ‘strongest’ was embroided in shimmering blue string by hand, the same hand that froze at the demonic voice from beneath the sheets, a pair of e/c orbs staring through the white haired woman’s head “I swear to God and all above, that if you take one more step I will pull you back to bed by your ear..”

Gojo chuckled nervously, the aura around her dropping the second a much stronger foe appeared, one that was about to contort her plans “Darling, dear you know I have to be there for the mochigome sale!!” She whined turning to the demon hiding beneath the freshly washed covers. The threatening glare was a lot through their chest and head, they could not look down on such a powerful foe- her spouse, the one she saw as close to an equal when it came to respect.

A hand slowly expanded from the deep, dark, creeps of the cavern, inviting with a slow smooth movement, like a hypnotizing curse, e/c orbs stared through her soul if she hadn’t had it stolen yet “…Come here….” A whisper came from the dark, causing a shiver to run down her spine, spine that was covered by a giant beautiful tattoo of a white tiger with blue eyes, that tattoo that reminded everyone, that she was Satoru The Strongest. Yet she felt her knees weaken by this presence, like an undefeated foe, a dragon lurking in the deep stalking to attack, hypnotizing yet another victim to squirm under its claws…. · · · · · ·

A dull thud and then a gasp were heard as Gojo hit the pillows beneath her ‘the dark undersheets lurker’ now in full view sitting on top of the white haired woman “You promised me to stay longer today!” A h/c haired figure spoke their eyes seemed to glimmer with happiness having the other in their grip “You already went this early yesterday! Do you know just how- lonely I was?!” As they spoke their fingers started to move gently tickling on the blue eyed females sides making her squirm and laugh, the figures soon fighting which one would tickle who, the pillows were thrown, sheets already kicked off of the bed.

“No mochigome will run away alright? Didn’t that store say they would hold onto a bag for you? You’re their most frequent customer..” A pair of e/c eyes looked right into the enticing sky blues which looked right back, their foreheads pressed together as Gojo this time was leaning above the other figure “After all.. Aren’t I your favorite mochi?” Their doe eyes made the woman weak, her hands clutching on the sheets beside her spouses head- Just like a blood thirsty tiger pup, Gojo had given to her Oyabun, begging for another finger of the body they were digging a grave for at 3am-

Satoru shook, her face flushed to hell and back with the prettiest shades of red, the cuteness of her spouse undeniably deadly- just like the poison that killed Fuku-Honbucho.. The white haired woman twitched as if her heart was pierced through ‘Too cute!!’ her mind raged as she fell on top of Y/n who wrapped their arms around their wife with a smile, it was rare for them to succeed in keeping their wild running cat wife home in the mornings like these.. · · · · · ·

The sheets shuffled softly as a sigh escaped parted lips, it felt so nice, maybe missing that sale wasn’t too bad? The sea of sharks would have to wait for another day, here in the safe heaven of her spouses arms, no sharks, dragons or wicked beasts and yakuza would get them. Gojo was sure of it, no one would dare to approach them if they wanted to live another day peacefully. She had stored up the worst cleaning tips for those people, surely oil and vinegar would clean this wine stain, right?

A wicked smile of mischief tugged on her pinkish lips, adorning her face so beautifully with the pearly whites despite the sweet tooth she had. One of the weaknesses the sheet demon of her spouse knew, and one she allowed them to use, because who wouldn’t want a strawberry shortcake when their spouse returns from a tiring day of work and still keeps on treating their closest? Y/n reached over tapping on Satoru’s bottom lip “Later.. there’s a sale on the seafood market.. Wanna go together?”

“I swear that out of all the people in the world, you’re the only one who knows who I truly am.” Gojo spoke with glimmering eyes as she turned her head to the h/c haired figure cuddled up to her side “Of course I do Satoru, My strongest butterfish sale hunter..” Their voice was like honey whispered in golden notes pulling just the right strings in Gojo’s heart. Y/n gently took their wives chin and pulled her into one of the loving morning kisses “I love you..” blue eyes stared right back into the e/c hues “I love you, as strong as I can- and that’s a lot~” “Oh shut up!-“

A fit of giggles filled the early morning air, the two tangled into each other in the most loving and gentle embraces, adoring their ideas, scheming against the sale foes, planning strategies to take over that one lady in flower store, she always seemed to grab the best white lilies that Gojo adored! This was just one of the many, Early Mornings the two shared in their adrenaline filled lives, full of challenges, whether they be at home dirt that doesn’t want to scrub off of the tiles or the store running out of their favorite mochi filling, as long as they were together, these moments were treasured..

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

@ryosmne @love-amihan @falling4fandoms @sirthisisa-wendys ||if youd like to be added to the tag list, comment, send an ask or a dm :))

#wendy’s 700 follower event #𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝔹𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕪ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕤𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕤 #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk au #gojo x nb reader #nb reader #jjk x reader

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officialgomezaddams · 3 years

Text

Morality

I honestly dk what this is but its set in AOTC kinda want to turn this into a little series $wag also shout out to my fellow nihilists this is for you bb

Palpatine had always kept watchful over her but never loomed. It would have been too obvious. When he met Anakin, it was like a breath of fresh air, a realization that this little boy was destined to restore the balance in the force and his daughter, Y/n, would be the one to defeat him. He had begun the idea of his daughter once he joined the Darkside, already knowing that the possibility to be overthrown was something he couldn’t let happen. The dark energy, the power, was simply too much to let go of. The moment he saw the nine-year-old boy, the lord was happy to know that the power would stay on the dark side.

Dooku trained Y/n as a padawan, and when he left the order, he took Y/n with him, kidnapping her into the night. When she asked why they were leaving the temple as he dragged her into a ship, he simply replied, “Sometimes when politicians can’t do their job, we must do something ourselves.” Over the years together, he would open up more, telling Y/n about the death of Qui-Gon and every step that drove him to leave.

“The Jedi rely on selflessness. To strip one’s ability to have connection and emotion. They lose themselves in conformity. We need to take control of the life we’re given. Emotion, passion, drive. Those are how we will be victorious. Corrupt politicians pull the Jedi around like kites on strings. You can not try and save a house that its lousy foundation has torn down. Tear it down and build a new one.”

It was her job to ensure just that, a new foundation set within the heart of the Darkside. Relentless training to mentally and physically defeat the chosen one. Palpatine would often tell her that her destiny was a part of the Sith Two, that the strongest one of the two would survive, and it was to be her. Darth Sidious found comfort that his creation would take over the Darkside once she had killed him and the Count. The most decisive Jedi ruling on the side of the night.

She didn’t quite understand it, but to stay on the Darkside made the most sense to her. It wasn’t about power. It was the lifestyle. Why be selfless if there was no personal gain? Why spend a life living for something else? Shouldn’t one live their life for themselves? Everyone, she determined, had to want something. As long as she did what she wanted, it was enough. It had to be. Because without drive and her idea of what was truly right and wrong, how would she get anything done?

She rationed that it all didn’t matter. She would never know who was right because, in her mind, the concept of being right varied too much. The Jedi thought they were right, the sith thought they were right, the politicians who voted against their people’s needs thought they were right. She had to suffer through Palpatine’s long lectures about how awful the senate was and now terrible the Jedi Order is. But who was to say he was right? That was only his opinion. Who was to say the Jedi were right because a frog that was almost nine hundred years old said so?

“I’m just…” Anakin went on, pulling a piece of grass out of the ground. “I mean, I don’t know. Padmè is beautiful and wonderful. She’s everything that could make someone perfect: marriage, it’s so permanent. I know I’m supposed to be excited, which I am, of course. But what if we were not supposed to be together.”

His speech made her frown. “Sometimes, it’s better just to dive in and see where you land.” She offered. The dreams with Anakin were a peaceful escape to a Jedi’s life. Neither knew why their dreams brought them together or what they even meant. Neither of them bothered, living the same training life on opposite sides. A sweet dream was the perfect reward. “And who are you going to be with then, me?” She teased back.

The setting of the dreams was in the meadows of Naboo. The pastel-colored flowers stood dim in the moonlight from the starry night above. Anakin laid with his head in her lap as they talked about their personal lives, never going in too deep about what their destinies were. Anakin no longer had the pressure of being the chosen one, and Y/n never had to admit she would kill the chosen one.

“I wish,” Anakin admitted, now looking up at her. “I want so bad to meet you Y/n, not just in my dreams but in real life. If I could have you by my side, all of this would be less confusing. I’ve fallen in love with you, a woman in my dreams. Why can’t you be in my reality?”

“Don’t say that,” She whispered. Whenever Anakin talked about his little girl-thing, Y/n wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what their relationship was, and she always felt a slight nic in her heart. Y/n knew that she was in love with Anakin, but to hear about another woman making him the happiest he’s been in the majority of the years that she knew him, that it wasn’t her, the one sneaking in kisses with him in the shadows. It brought out an ugly feeling of jealousy and possessiveness to Y/n that she didn’t know she had.

“I promise, one day, I’ll be with you in all the ways you want.” She spoke with a smile. She would often daydream about what life would be like to meet him real-time. They would run up to each other and crush each other in a hug. She imagined it all.

“Tell me about it,” Anakin edged on, closing his eyes as if it was going to play out in his head.

“Well, I want to go somewhere like D’Qar, somewhere quiet where I won’t have to worry about neighbors or anyone I don’t want finding me. Or us, because you’re coming with me no matter what your soon-to-be wife says,” You teased, making him laugh. “Maybe- Sometimes in my dreams, there’s no Padmè, it’s just us, and every so often there are kids, but it’s just us. Tucked away where we can be together, and nothing can bother us or stop us from being together.”

The silence that sat in between them began to scare Y/n, “Is that a future you would want with me?”

His eyes met hers, a peaceful moment in the chaos of their lives. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, behind her ear. “If I were able to, I would.”

“And why can’t you? Why can’t you have the things you want, Anakin? Is it wrong to be happy?”

Waking up from the dreams was always the most challenging part, the reality of it not being a reality. Y/n woke up already in a bad mood, mentally kicking herself for pushing too far in. Of course, he wouldn’t want to. He’s getting married to someone else. You’re too late. It had always been Y/n’s plan to end up with Anakin in some way or another. From the first dream to now, she decided to leave the Sith once she had killed the chosen one. Somedays, she would pace around, impatiently waiting for whoever held the title to cross her path so she could just finish the job and take the next ship to wherever Anakin was.

She tore the necklace he had given her off her neck, clutching the carven japor snippet in her hand with a grip so hard she could have cracked it if it wasn’t made out of stone. She was squeezing her eyes shut, trying not to cry. Anakin had given Y/n the good luck charm when they were at the age of thirteen. Y/n was upset that once everything was over that he may not want to be with her, the reputation of her choices would drive him away.

“Well, you can’t be that bad,” He commented, pulling out the carved stone from his pocket and shyly handing it to her. “I made this for you,” Anakin explained as she put it around her neck, “So that when good things happen, you can think of me. It’ll be my way of keeping you safe, and in return, one day, you will come to me safely.”

She opened her eyes and stared at the carvings, remembering how Anakin said he made it just for her, so she better not lose it. Y/n wanted to break it, throw it away, and never see Anakin again. She wanted more than just the dreams. She wanted the sunsets and the early morning and the rainy days - all of it. Maybe they were wrong, they weren’t supposed to meet, and it was just a nice dream.

She couldn’t do that. She at least owes him a simple greeting, and then she can get rid of him. Putting the necklace back on and wiping her face to make sure she wasn’t crying, Y/n walked out of the room, ready for whatever the sith wanted her to do.

“Just be patient,” Her master told her as they waited outside the still open ship. Geonosis was overrun with battle, the sith fighting tooth and bone to claim the planet as its capital, the major droid foundries, and its Mandalorians. Nothing could be more perfect for the sith. The two force signatures caught Y/n’s attention. Looking up at Dooku, she told him, “Well, let’s make it quick then.”

“The chosen one will be here,” he whispered back. “I’ll leave that one to you.”

“You’re gonna pay for all the Jedi you killed, Dooku,” A familiar voice said as you both turned around in unison. “Y/N?” A pit dropped in her stomach. It was him, Anakin. Anakin’s blue saber was pointed at the ground, more focused on her than the older man.

The necklace he gave her burned her through her robes. Anakin was finally there in front of her. This Anakin was different from her dreams. He stood with more pride and confidence. He was also the chosen one. “I-I didn’t expect to meet you like this,” She told him, knowing full well once on the ship, she would be interrogated about her knowledge of the boy.

“Why are you with him?” The venom in his voice almost made her feel guilty about being who she was. “Are you-? Don’t tell me Y/n-” He couldn’t find the words to express his confusion and disappointment, “You’re a Sith. How can you be with them? You lied to me! Can’t you see what they’re doing to you? Can’t you see what they’ve done!”

“The Jedi know no facts,” She spoke, looking over at the Count, waiting for his head nod and sign of approval to ignite her orange saber. The whole weapon was made for destruction, a perfect saber to kill the chosen one. Its orange glow was representing strength. The curved hilt that matched hers of her masters was perfect for duels and close fights. “Only assumptions.”

It hurt her to have him looking at her in disgust. As if she was suddenly less than him because of her beliefs. “Anakin, you need to calm down,” She warned him as he charged towards her, only for Dooku to step in front of her, raising his hand to send bolds of electricity into the boy’s body and fling him into a rock wall. “Don’t keep me waiting,” Her master spoke before walking up the platform of the ship.

Y/n only had seconds to understand that not only her master had abandoned her, Anakin was also lying limp in a pile of rocks, and the other Jedi was making his way towards her. She pointed her saber straight ahead at him, taking careful steps around him, trying to think about how this all would end. Was this it? When is supposed to kill the chosen one who happened to be the boy Y/n had fallen in love with over the past ten years? She knew that once she killed Anakin, she would have to kill the two sith above her, starting the two over with her as a master.

“I heard the little green guy talks highly of you, Kenobi. What a pity it will be when I kill his two strongest men.”

Obi-wan shook his head, “You’re not Dooku’s apprentice. You’re just an assassin to him. Y/n why would he elect a child to be his successor?” He spoke as if he could read her mind, his blue eyes pleading with her.

“You don’t know anything!” Y/n yelled, making the first strike. His saber skills were advanced, but quickly she was able to disarm him and left two marks on him, one on his arm and one on his thigh. She walked up to him, the two staring at each other. Was she about to kill this man? She had never killed a human before. Taking down droids and other creatures were casual to her. Humans? This man was edging her on with his eyes, both understanding that she wasn’t able to drive her saber into his neck. She couldn’t just kill a man who had done nothing to her. That would be wrong, right? But if it was so bad, why was she encouraged to do it?

Before she could thoroughly choose, Anakin came at full force again. This time his master had tossed him his saber, making the fight two against one. “Why won’t you join our site, the right side?” Anakin asked, swiftly dodging her but failing to make any advancements to disarming her.

“I don’t believe in any right sides.” She told him, knocking the green lightsaber out of his hand, evening out the fight. “I believe in one thing. Power of human will.”

She walked into the ship quietly, ignoring the little green Jedi behind her. She didn’t care about the older man, Yoda or Count Dooku. She walked past the sith and made her way right to the pilot’s seat before sitting down.

Dooku followed her, giving her space as she sat down. Crossing his arms like a disappointed parent, he asked, “Well?”

“I cut his arm off,” Y/n spoke, taking out the necklace and looking at the charm in her hand. She left right after, watching him lay unconscious against his master, missing apart of his right arm. She had hurt him, and for a moment, when she was looking at the injured pair, the padawan’s master had the same look on his face as before. An eyebrow raised as if to say, Do it, kill us. I doubt you’ll do it.

“I’m disappointed in you.” He said. Y/n could have done it. She would have just pictured them as droids and slice the two in half. It would have been quick and painless. She could have plaid her life out, kill the chosen one, rule the sith, and live her life. Why didn’t you? She kept thinking as she admired the gift.

Looking at the charm, the future she talked about seemed too far away, especially now. The end with the boy she loved, Anakin, who also was the boy she was supposed to kill. But for right now, she thought to herself. She wouldn’t kill him, at least not yet, until she knew for sure that her fantasies with Anakin were just wild dreams. It was her own life. Why couldn’t she have the things she wanted?

#anakin skywalker imagine #star wars imagine #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #star wars imagines #anakin imagines #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars x reader

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

Everyone’s Got a Sweet Tooth!

Summary: Bakugou hates sweets. You don’t think this is true and begin a mission to discover his favorite candy. After all, you are the brilliant Candy Master who won’t stop until Bakugou’s sweet tooth is satisfied.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’m so glad I was finally able to write a full fic for Bakugou; it’s been so long. Originally, this was supposed to be for the bingo event, but had trouble fleshing out the story’s direction. I really wanted to write this story since the plot was hilarious to me, idk why.

Please enjoy!

10.30.21 UPDATE: HI!!!!! I went back and edited the heck out of this baby since it’s my favorite Bakugou story I’ve written. I hope it is now decent lmao. Happy Halloween!!

Word Count: 2.4K+

“Katsuki, what is the meaning of all this?!”

“The hell are you talkin’ bout?”

“This!”

You marched with purpose and plopped down on the couch where he sat. Bakugou remained unfazed, clicking on the remote control. He mindlessly surfed through the channels with an attention span of an HR recruiter combing through a mountain pile of resumes. Stupid sitcoms, fake ass “reality” tv shows, QVC advertising their products like it's Black Friday all day, every day. Bakugou frowned—why does he pay so much for these useless channels?

His eyes teared away from the screen as the phone waved frantically on his left.

You huffed. “According to Maximus Heroes, you—and I quote—‘bleeping hate sweets!’”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Damn idiots censored my words.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?”

“That you hate sweets!”

You viciously smacked a pillow at him, ignoring his yells. Bakugou snatched the weapon with a growl. For a soft pillow, it felt like a firm foam roller. You stood up and paced around, arms flailing in the air.

“How can my boyfriend say such a thing?!” You pointed at your signature black top hat. “Do you know who I am? I’m the lovable Candy Master, CEO of the Candy Basket Factory!”

Bakugou shrugged. “So?”

“So, you can’t say you hate sweets!” You gripped your chest, sniffling a bit. “I feel as though I’ve been betrayed.”

“Would you sit your ass down?”

Bakugou tossed the pillow at you and crossed his arm; he was too tired to deal with this nonsense. Somehow the QVC channel looked more appealing now. You begrudgingly plopped on the couch, a small pout growing on your face. Bakugou snuck a glance and sighed, tossing the remote aside.

“Are you seriously so upset about this?” Instant regret flooded through his mind as he remembered that ridiculous day. “It was a freakin’ answer to a stupid question in a stupid celebrity article.”

“…maybe…”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. You took off your signature hat and examined it; the hat was firm yet soft and had three peppermint candies artistically attached like a beautiful brooch. You moped silently for an eternity until an exciting idea rushed into your mind. Bakugou jumped as you squealed, his mouth ready for snarl, but you beat him to the punch.

“I got it!” Two hands eagerly cupped his sharp cheeks, your whimsical eyes meeting his feral ones. They did nothing to damper your beaming smile. “You don’t hate sweets; you just haven’t found your favorite candy!”

Bakugou grabbed your wrist yet didn’t pull them away. Another giggle rang throughout the living room as you shot up from the sofa. A specific look crossed your face—one that both irked and frightened Bakugou to no end; he was through dealing with your shenanigans.

“Whatever you’re thinkin’ about, the answer is no!”

“Too late! The mind is churning,” you piped, taking a cheerful step toward the doorway. Spinning on your heel, you gave a hat tip to Bakugou and declared, “I won’t rest until that sweet tooth of yours is satisfied!”

Yup, it was too late. Bakugou had no choice but to go along with this dumb idea. Closing his eyes, he slammed a pillow over his face and screamed.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Ground Zero’s hero agency was buzzing with life. Phones rang off the hook, yet all were answered to avoid the voicemail machine. Interns carried endless stacks of papers, their dying arms begging for relief and fingers stinging from brutal paper cuts. The afternoon shift sidekicks clocked in their arrival while the morning ones yawned out the door.

Everything ran like a well-oiled machine, just how Bakugou liked it. He took great pride in this, hiring only the best and brightest. However, none of them held a candle against him—the number two pro hero. Unfortunately, being a prominent hero brought lots of reports he needed to sign.

And he was not excited about this.

“Um, sir?”

“Damnit, Small Head,” Bakugou growled, halting his pen’s movement. Fiery eyes glared at the man peeking around the ajar door. “If you bring me another paper to sign, I will stab this pen in your damn eye!”

“I-I assure you that I bring no reports, sir!” Kioshi, Bakugou’s personal assistant, waddled inside the office, fixing the tie that was strangling his neck. He slid a peculiar package toward his boss and bowed his head. “You have a special delivery from the Candy Master.”

Bakugou scrunched his eyebrows. On his desk was a white box with an orange ribbon wrapped neatly in the upper left corner. A tiny card sat underneath it, and with closer inspection, had his first name written across in gold letters. Bakugou shooed Kioshi away, waiting to hear the door close to ensure absolute privacy.

At first, Bakugou had a mini stare-down with the gift. When it didn’t burst into flames, he sucked his breath and snatched the card. Bakugou turned it around to read the following message:

Everyone knows you got a sour attitude, but only I get to see that sweet side of yours. Figured these treats might do the trick. I made them just for you!

Enjoy,

C.M

P.S. These are an ~exclusive~ batch from my top-secret collection! So hush-hush!

Bakugou snorted at your writing, tossing the card aside and opening the box. His eyes narrowed at the vibrant gumdrops nestled above the black tissue paper. White sugar lightly coated the green and orange candies, each twinkling under the natural light that shined through his large window. A smirk curled on his lips; the whole package reflected his hero costume.

“Let’s see how good these are.”

Bakugou ate the green gumdrop. It was chewy and sour, the lime flavor making him twitch a bit. The sweetness kicked in ten seconds later. Bakugou tried the orange gumdrop next, and the acid was strong too but enjoyable. He soon devoured the entire box in one sitting.

Once that was done, he marched out of the office to start his daily patrol. It didn’t take long for a stupid thug to cross his path. Bakugou slammed him against the concrete wall, hauling him up with just one hand. The man trembled in fear but stopped squirming and cocked his head to the side, dumbfounded.

Bakugou growled. “What the hell are you looking at?”

“Your tongue...it got weird colors, man.”

“Eh? The fuck are you talking ‘bout?”

Bakugou peeked at his reflection on the store’s window. He recoiled when he saw the horrible swirls of green and orange covering his tongue. A vicious scowl crossed Bakugou’s face, his iron grip tightening around the thug’s collar. The guy’s high-pitched yelps fell on deaf ears.

“Fuckin’ gumdrops!”

They were crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“I don’t want it.”

“But, sir, the gift—”

“I know who it’s from, and I’m telling you no.”

“Sir,” Kioshi gripped the massive, cherry red treat in his hand. A black ribbon with long strings almost reached the floor. The assistant sighed. “It’s just a lollipop.”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ baby to ya?” Bakugou crossed his arms, refusing to budge on his childish decision. The irony made Kioshi roll his eyes mentally. “Give it away or something. Now get out.”

“Yes, sir…”

Lollipops were crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Another day, another gift Bakugou received from you.

They came sporadically and kept the hero on his toes. He never understood why you sent the gifts directly to his office; you both lived in the same apartment for crying out loud! Worst of all, he could never get a single hint on what candy he would receive next. Every time he asked—or more accurately, demanded—you shot him a coy smile and purred, “Ah, ah, ah! It’s a surprise!”

Bakugou wanted to rip his eyeballs out.

However, he reluctantly played along with your stupid game. Whenever Kioshi entered his office, Bakugou masked his slight interest with the usual scowl. If the assistant didn’t bring candy, then Bakugou blamed him for interrupting his private time. The anger was worse if Kioshi brought more reports for him to sign.

Kioshi was thankful for the days when a new candy gift arrived.

Unfortunately, the last three gifts were complete failures. The first was the strawberry licorice, which dangled in Bakugou’s hand. He took a few bites and complained that he was eating a rubber wheel. Next was a bag of colorful gummy worms. Bakugou shoved a couple in his mouth and swore he felt one of them move on its own. Finally, there was the lemon green jawbreaker; it was the size of a baseball. One look and Bakugou shouted over the phone: “You tryna give me dentures?!”

All three candies were crossed off the list. Still, you didn’t give up and sent another gift to Bakugou. He read the simple message on the card:

Chew and blow to your heart’s content, babe!

Love,

C.M

P.S. I promise this won’t change the color on your tongue, haha!

Bakugou opened the sleek, rectangular box and found a bubble gum packet inside; there were three thin pieces. He slipped one in his mouth, surprisingly pleased with the bold raspberry flavor hitting his taste buds. Bakugou skimmed the card again and did as instructed—he chewed.

Typically, an ordinary bubble gum would lose its flavor after five minutes. But the flavor in your gum only got juicier; it encouraged Bakugou to continue chewing. He then blew a tiny bubble before popping it in his mouth. Not bad, he thought as another bubble expanded in front of him. His chews became more aggressive, and the bubbles more prominent than the previous ones. Stupidly, he puffed out a massive bubble, and it grew…

…and grew…and grew until there was a loud pop.

Bakugou’s roars shook the entire building, spilling cold tea all over Kioshi’s shirt.

Bubble gum was crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Everything was going well down at the Candy Basket Factory. People lined up outside for the magical tours that ran every hour. Kids bounced off the walls as if they were on a sugar rush while their parents felt a migraine pounding on their heads. Inside the factory, the ceilings were high, and the walls were vibrant like the sun. Laughter rang from every corner as employees chit-chatted about their daily lives; they were relaxed yet efficiently worked to the same drumbeat.

A soft smile crept on your face. You were glad everyone was happy; it was the driving force behind your factory’s joyful spirit. Eventually, that spirit would leave these doors and touch billions of people’s hearts with your precious candies.

Just as you closed your eyes, someone barged into your office and barked your name. You chuckled, spinning the leather chair around to meet a furious Bakugou. His nostrils flared like a bull, and his menacing eyes looked ready to kill. However, the gum’s blobs stuck on his porcupine blonde hair squashed the pro hero’s intimidating aura.

“You—”

“—I’m so sorry, boss!” Nozomi panted into the room, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “I tried stopping him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“It’s quite alright, Zomi!” You chirped without breaking Bakugou’s intense eye contact. “I can handle him. Please let everyone know I’ll be busy with an important meeting.”

Nozomi bowed and closed the door behind her. Bakugou wasted no time complaining, his hands slamming on your desk.

“Quit sending me your cavity-infested garbage! I’ve had it with this fuckin’ game.”

“Oh, come on, babe!” You rolled forward and rested your chin on your gloved hand palm. “Can’t I just send my dashing boyfriend some sweet gifts? Get it!” You jokingly slapped his forearm. “Because candies are sweet? Man, I crack myself up at times…”

“You’re insufferable.”

You winked at him. “But that’s what you love about me!”

Bakugou gritted his teeth and looked away. A light blush tainted his cheeks; he hated how right you were. You walked around the desk and stood beside him, wiping off the fairy sugar dust on his shirt. He probably barged through the sample stand near the entrance, scaring off the poor intern.

“Alright, alright.” You gave a gentle pat. “Sorry for going a little overboard with the gifts. I was just excited about finding your favorite candy! I don’t want you hating them.”

Bakugou’s anger subsided. “Why is this so damn important to you?”

“Because I love spreading endless joy through sweets.”

The answer was simple and innocent. Bakugou blinked and was taken aback by the gentleness in your eyes.

“Candy makes everyone happy,” you chirped. “Knowing someone’s favorite candy helps me bring their smile back whenever they’re upset or lost. Can’t have the world be all mopey now, can we?”

Your fingers hovered above Bakugou’s head. The gum moved under your command and floated in the air. You flicked it into the trash bin with ease, and Bakugou murmured a quick ‘thanks’ under his breath. After ruffling his hair, you suddenly remembered something sitting on your shelf. Bakugou stared at the small pyramid of chocolate truffles coming toward him.

“I made these babies a few minutes ago,” you said, eying the plate with a proud grin. “Normally, I do a taste test and then send the gift if it satisfies my expectations. But, I got a feeling you’ll love them.”

Bakugou’s face was unreadable. You gave him a gentle nudge and encouraged him to take one. He sighed before picking a chocolate truffle; it was warm and soft, the cocoa powder dusting his fingertips. After suspiciously staring at the truffle, he ate the entire thing in one go. His eyes widened as all the flavors exploded at once. The crushed red pepper flakes, the hints of rich cinnamon and orange zest, and the bittersweet dark chocolate made from the finest quality found on Earth all danced perfectly together with every bite.

“So…” You placed the plate on the desk, watching Bakugou swallow the truffle down. “What do you think? Give me your honest opinion! Don’t sugarcoat it, haha! I’m on fire today!”

Bakugou turned away. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” You hugged his bicep with a pout. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Just tell me if you liked the chocolate truffles.”

“They’re good.”

Your smile grew. “Good enough to be your favorite?”

“Sure,” he smirked, shoving another truffle into his mouth. You cheered on the spot after weeks of constant failures. Of course, some of the complaints were nonsense which didn’t surprise you. Bakugou was a picky bastard; the lollipop fiasco served as a great example. You were glad he thoroughly enjoyed the chocolate truffles.

Before you walked away, Bakugou pulled you close to him and crushed his lips on yours. He caught you off guard, but the surprise was certainly welcomed. You soon melted into the kiss after tasting the rich dark chocolate and spices on his lips. Bakugou’s arms snaked around your waist as your hands gripped his broad shoulders.

“You know,” Bakugou’s hot breath tickled your right ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I think I got a new favorite candy.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, a coy smile plastered on your face.

“Let’s hope it satisfies your sweet tooth then, Ground Zero.”

“Oh, it will.”

After all, you were the one and only Candy Master.

As always, thanks for reading!

10.18.20 UPDATE: Story’s sequel, Gold Coins and a Gold Heart now uploaded.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha imagines

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octania · 4 years

Text

YANDERE Obi Akitaru x Reader/ Joseph Vulcan x Reader (NSFW)

Word count: 2.8 k

Warnings: yandere,smut,NSFW, abuse, manipulation, possessive behavior, toys, underwear theft, stalking.

Short description: How would yandere Vulcan and Obi treat you.

Joseph Vulcan x Reader

You would never suspect his warm smile and big green eyes that almost radiate with kindness, that behind that welcoming and friendly posture lays a dark beast that decided to stick his claws into you.

He would not make a direct approach, he would let you come to him. It would not take you long to notice a fine built tattooed man that is so crafty with his hands, edgy with his style, specially the skull mask, but yet so polite and well mannered when you talked to him. He even loved animals. What could be a better sign of a soft and cuddly bear than that?

There was no surprise in the fact you two started dating shortly after you met, and everything was going so smoothly, it even had a fairy tale touch. He took you for a nice romantic walks, make you laugh, was a good listener, brought you flowers…. got you gifts.

The most cutest gift he gave you was the necklace that he made himself. A white choker made from thin strings with a cutest little head of a pink bunny in the middle, because that was his favorite nickname for you. His little bunny.

When he put it on you, it seemed a bit too tight and the strings got some strange feeling like they were from some kind of rubber but you did not pay it no mind, you were too melted by the fact he made this for you. When you turned to show him how it fits you, his expression was strange, like he relaxed somehow, got a sense of relief. You thought it was because he was worried will you like it and will it fit you, so you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek to show your gratitude. Sadly, you will not be thankful for long…

You were just having a normal conversation with your friend that came to visit you at your station. He was not even planning to see you, but he was near the base and thought it would be nice to say hi. You talked in the lobby for a few minutes when suddenly a quick feeling of pain spread around your neck and shoulders, making you almost jump from shock. Not even realizing what happened and after your friend asked you what is wrong you had no good answer, you brushed it off. But it was not long after your muscles clenched and started aching like sharp needles were sinking right into them. The unpleasant feeling lasted a couple of seconds, making you tense as it traveled all the way to your collar bones and spine. When it finally stopped and you let out a sharp whine, you realized the spiking irritation was concentrated mostly around your neck. More precisely, under your necklace. You excused yourself, leaving the lobby fast, going around the corner in the bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror, trying to get the damn thing off. Your hands were more sweaty and shaky with every passing second that you failed to get the necklace off. As you were messing with it, you noticed a red mark under it, like you got burned. In panic, you started pulling, trying desperately to break it as your eyes got watery with tears.

“I made that for you bunny…why would you do such a heartless thing and try to break my gift?”- two emerald eyed emerged behind you, staring from behind the door of the bathroom in your reflection in the mirror.

Scared, you turned, pulling the necklace up to show him the red marks. “Vulcan! It burned me! I don’t know what happened! Something is wrong! Please, help me take it off!”- innocent and clueless as you were, you pleaded to your boyfriend for help, but his expression just got more sinister, as he pushed the door and they closed with a loud bang. Slowly, he walked towards you, his eyebrows narrowed, eyes dark and threatening like a raging sea in the storm. You shivered, as he leaned in, trapping you between the sink and his wall of flesh. “V-vul..Vulcan?”- you stuttered, just to be shattered by his cruel answer.

“Yes…something is wrong..but I am here to make it right, and if you take your necklace off I won’t be able to do that. You need to learn how to behave, bunny.”- he spoke in a shallow tone, pulling your small hand off the necklace, just to place his on it. His hand was so big compared to your small neck, he almost managed to wrap his whole palm around it, pressing the thing even more on your skin.

“Why would you talk to another guy? Am I not enough for you bunny?”- your eyes widen in shock, as a low sound of you trying to answer almost escaped your lips, but the sharp and painful electric shock again made your muscles clench. This one made you bent down, trembling under the grip of electricity coming from the collar. When it stopped, the skin under the thing was now sore and it burned like someone pressed a fiery brand on it.

Tears strolled down your face while you were paralyzed by fear. He knelt in front of you, cupping your face between his wide palms.

“No, no, no..shhh bunny, it is ok, this is for your own good.”- he removed the strains of hair from your face, squeezing your cheeks to force you to look at him. “I will train you, show you how to be good to me, don’t worry. I love you, I just want us to be happy.”- he started petting your head, pushing his left hand in his pocket and pulling something out. A small remote with two buttons. “I don’t want to shock you again with this my bunny, so please be good.”- he smiled lovingly, kissing your wet cheek that was glistering from tears.

With time it only got worse. You needed to drop all the male contacts you had, and you still would deserve a shock or two when you would even talk to the captain. You kept your answers short, hiding the pain and despair.

Even the giggling of your female friends while you all were talking got him thinking all kinds of things. Surely you were talking about some guys. It got him on the edge, furry rising in his chest like a tide. They could not be trusted. You could not be trusted when you are alone with them. So, he made you another gift.

You screamed and cried as he showed you the thing he had wrapped in a red box with a white bow. You could sense it was wrong, not wanting to come near it let alone wear it. It is sad that you even thought you had a choice.

He pulled the gift from the box. Panties. Pink panties made from the similar material as your collar. You tried to run out from the room, to escape this, but he gabbed you by the waist, picking you up and throwing you on the bed. He grabbed your wrists with one hand, while he reached under your skirt for your panties. He tore the material in a second, exposing your intimate parts to him, just so slide the new pair of panties on you. You violently wiggled, trying to break from his grip and pull the thing off, but a familiar burn around your neck made you calm down. You started sobbing, begging him to stop, but he ignored your pleads, petting your tights with his hand. “If you will be good, nothing will happen, I promise bunny.”- he pushed his hand up, softly stroking your clothed pussy. “I would never harm you, I am helping you.”- he pinched your clit softly as you cried out. “This is mine, I just need you to remember that.”

And he did made you remember. Every time you went out with your friends, you tried to stay away from every male person around, but unfortunately, even if that was not hard enough, because even ordering a drink from a male waiter was a punishable crime in his eyes, every time one of your friends mentioned some dude you would pay the price. A sharp vibrating sensation coming from your panties made your legs shake. You tensed every muscle in your body, trying to remain calm and still, but the vibrations only got worse. There was no point of you even trying to get up and try to reach the bathroom, your legs were too weak. Shaky material irritated your clit, making it over stimulated, almost making you cum, but before you could, it stopped, leaving you hot and bothered, tortured like a sex slave deprived from a sweet release. A beeping sound came from your mobile. A message, from him.

“Does talking about other man makes you wet? Is this what you would like for them to do to you? Would you bunny? – another wave of vibrations, almost making you moan from pain and the pleasure in the same time, just to be even more degraded by the slight shock on your collar. Only God knows how you managed to stay quiet.

“Are you imagining how they are licking your cunt now? Does these vibrations get you going like they would?”- he would not stop for the whole night until you return home. You could not walk home, your friends needed to carry you, as you lied you are not feeling well. Your pussy swollen from the constant irritation and not even one orgasm, just so he can fuck it after he carries you to the bed, making you almost faint from the over stimulation and exhaustion.

Obi Akitaru x Reader

A well respected and compassionate captain, with a kind of body that is only seen on ancient Rome sculptures, got his eyes on you. What could possibly go wrong when the man has such long list of good deeds behind him? That pleasant caramel colored eyes could not possible be stained with mad obsessions and perverted desires.

No one would suspect Obi when the victims of cruel and brutal beatings started to pop up on the news every other day. Men’s teeth being smash beyond repair, countless broken bones, skin painted with gruesome bruises…and dead silence about the one who did it. Not even one of the victims dared to speak his name, he made sure they know that even worse things would happen to them if they did. After all, they did deserve what happened to them. They dared to look at you, approach you and speak to you.

When it came to you, he believed in the saying- “Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.” . You could not possibly understand how deeply he cared for you, you needed to be protected. This world was cruel, too raw for a delicate and pure creature like you, and he swore nothing will harm his precious flower.

Being able to protect in that way requires being able to see you at every moment. He would install cameras in the base, explaining how it is for the safety of the whole team, but the only one being monitored was you. He would have an app on his phone where he could see everything that happens on the cameras, at any time. Oh, and how he loved seeing you doing your daily chores and just living your normal everyday life.Seeing you cook and clean made him have fantasies that you two are married, how you are just working around the house, waiting for your husband to get home. His eyes were glued on you figure as you chopped the vegetables, imagining how he is behind you, kissing your neck and gently holding your hips. He closed his eyes and inhaled, getting agitated on the fact that he could not smell the thing he wanted. He needed your scent in his nostrils while he was lost in his fantasies.

First he thought a simple shirt would be enough, just something of yours that he can have in his hands, smell when he wanted. But sneaking into your room at night to collect the desirable thing quickly resulted in him lifting his appetite on the next level.

Gazing upon your sleeping face, wearing nothing but a big t-shirt that looked like a oversized dress made him wonder what is under it. He bit his lip on the thought of lifting the t-shirt, feeding on the sight of your perfect body, the body that belongs to him, and will be touched only by him. But he did not want to do it while you were not aware, he wanted that moment to be shared, so he can look at your eyes while he fills your pussy with his cock, so he can hear you calling his name while he satisfies your every need.

The blood flowed in the lowers parts of his body, making his dick hard, lifting the material under his jeans. He pushed the hand down, giving it a few strokes over the jeans, staring at your tights. An idea crossed his mind. There is a way he can fulfill his quest and his perverse need.

Quietly approaching you, he leaned on you, carefully pushing his hand under your t-shirt. Your tender skin under his rough palms made him almost lose it, grabbing your legs violently, spreading them and placing himself between, so he can enter you then and there. But he managed to restrain himself, finally finding the thing he was looking for. He cautiously pulled your panties down, sliding them off your legs, getting on his feet and leaving the room in a hurry.

This piece of clothing became his favorite thing in the world. He could still feel how warm there were in that moment when he took them off, how the material was soft like your skin was. Finally, he can have his fantasy fully. He brought his hand to his nose, inhaling deeply, gathering every possible scent off that thin fabric. A sweet fruity smell of your shampoo made him wonder would your pussy taste like strawberries under his tongue. How he would enjoy licking your juices like it was an icing from a cake, resulting in the most delicious thing he ever tasted. A moist feeling on his nose made him realize that there is something more of you on that material. He lowered his hand, letting the moonlight from his window fall on the material. A small wet stain in the center of the panties. You were wet.

His heart started beating from excitement, making it almost impossible to think straight anymore, as his dick was now painfully swollen and demanding a sweet release.

A red spot appeared under your desk. A light from the hidden camera he had installed along with the others, but this one was special, and it was the first time he used it.His strong chest going up and down in waves as he stared at your naked butt. When he left you half naked, you turned in your sleep, lifting the shirt enough to expose your ass and pussy. Laying on your belly, you spread your legs, finding the most comfy way to continue your slumber, while unaware that someone is more than enjoying the view.

His strong hand tensed, as his biceps popped out, while he was gripping on his huge cock, stroking it fast. Your panties in his hand in the same time, trying to get your juices on his smooth skin. His eyes glued on your pussy, imaging how soft and wet it would be, how tight it would feel around his fat cock. His pumps became shallow, more intense, as he was zooming the camera as much as possible. He ended up cumming on the screen, lost in the fantasy that it was actually your skin.

The more his obsession grew, the more shameless he became. He would hack your social media profiles, erasing and blocking your guy friends one by one, doing so patiently so you would not notice. Same went for your contacts on your phone. All the numbers you had from your male friends got erased. He needed only a moment, when you were going to make some coffee for the team or eating lunch, leaving the phone on your work desk. He felt no remorse, after all, the only man you need is right there, watching your every step.

#fire force #obi akitaru #joseph vulcan #obi x reader #obi akitaru x reader #joseph vulcan x reader #enen no shouboutai #enen no shoubotai headcanons #enen no shouboutai obi #enen no shouboutai x reader #obi akitaru smut #yandere #yandere obi akitaru #yandere vulcan #yandere fire force #yandere obi #yandere enen no shouboutai #obi akitaru headcanons #fire force headcanons

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twomoonstwosuns · 4 years

Text

birthday.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: smut (18+), delicious tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 3.4k

a/n: thank you guys so much for being patient, I know this took way too long. if you saw my posts you know I was dealing with some medical stuff and ended up in the hospital for a few days, but I’m better and back at work. And thank you to everyone for your kind words <3 anyways here’s some soft af smut, I hope it makes you feel feelings.

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It had been the longest three and a half weeks of your life.

Ever since you found out he had threatened to expose your relationship, it was like you saw Hux everywhere. You had never really seen him around campus before, but now he seemed to be around every corner or in every coffee line and you could swear he was watching you.

You had shed a few tears when you got back to your apartment, your roommates immediately sitting you down and listening to the entire story. You were still in shock that someone could be so selfish to use something so personal to someone as a weapon. Hux was a professor that neither you nor your roommates had had, but he was known as a decent teacher around the school.

Though decent teacher and decent human being were clearly two different things.

The collection of your boyfriend’s sweatshirts had slowly started to build since the beginning of March but there was one particular sweatshirt of his that was incredibly soft from being washed so many times that you loved. He always teased you about it because it was also his favorite. So you were surprised to find that sweatshirt plus a ratty well-loved t-shirt that featured a band you’d never heard of before in your bag when you got home, tears welling in your eyes at the touching gesture.

Class was painful. Twice a week you were able to actually see Poe, but you had to stop yourself from staring at him like you were completely infatuated when there were other people around. Conversations with him were class-related and boring, not exactly the pillow talk you’d grown to love. It rubbed the whole situation the two of you were in right in your face.

The closest you got to touching him was when he handed you back a first draft of a long essay he had assigned. Your fingers accidentally brushed against his as you took your paper from him and you didn’t get the chance to react because Kaydel leaned over and asked how your paper was looking. You flipped through the pages and were reading through some of the comments he made when you saw two tiny blue post it notes on the fourth page, one with an ‘I miss you’ and the other with a ‘you look beautiful today’ and a drawing of the heart eyes smiley face. You bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely, but you were swooning inside.

Being told you couldn’t have what you wanted sucked.

You woke the morning of your birthday with your two roommates bursting into your room blasting Taylor Swift’s “22” and holding your favorite scone and mixed coffee drink from your favorite local café. They had surprises lined up for you that night, starting at seven when you were all done with classes. When they left your room, you laid back in bed and willed the motivation to get ready for class to come to you. Your phone dinged beside you and a smile immediately formed on your face when you saw it was from Poe.

At least you were still able to text him and call him and FaceTime him.

You opened the message he sent, seeing an audio message instead of a text. The sound of his guitar filled your ears and the strings plucked the familiar tune of “Happy Birthday”, his voice soft enough to send you back to sleep.

“I miss you, baby,” he said as finished playing “Happy birthday.”

You wanted to text him ‘I love you’ right then and there, but you didn’t. It kind of scared you how strongly you felt about him after only being with him for a few months and the last thing you wanted to do was make this separation permanent. So you stayed quiet, saying it in your head as you drifted off to sleep each night.

You hated when your birthdays landed on weekdays. There was something so much more fun about making a day out of your birthday than spending over half the day stuck in class. You paid very little attention, going through multiple happy birthday texts and social media posts from friends and family, and of course texting Poe when he was in between classes.

Your roommates treated you to dinner at a local bistro, a place you had all been eyeing on going since you were freshmen. It was a little more upscale, so you promised yourself you’d make time for it before you graduated. Jessika had left before you and Karé to stop by work, a scheduling issue that she said would take ten minutes to fix turned into twenty and made her late for dinner. The service at the bistro was surprisingly quick for a Friday night and she had to order after you and Karé already placed yours.

Dinner turned into wanting to grab drinks at Maz’s, the special birthday drink famously known throughout campus. On the way to the bar you got on the phone with your mom and sister, confirming the plan to drive home the next day to celebrate your birthday with them. You were so wrapped up in the conversation of what your mother was going to make for your birthday dinner that you didn’t even notice you weren’t at the bar until the car had stopped and you hung up the phone.

“Wait, what are we doing back at the apartment?”

Jessika leaned forward onto the console and looked at you. “Will you run in and get my card?”

“What? No.”

“Please.”

“Why me?”

“Because you used it last.”

“Um…no I didn’t.”

“Yes you did, last week when we ordered pizza.”

“I gave it back to you.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Oh my god, will someone just go get the card?” Karé said exasperatedly.

“Y/N, go.”

You look back at Jessika and narrow your eyes.

“You’ve been missing your card for a week and you just noticed it was missing?”

“No time for judgment, just go find it please. I think it’s in the kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes and opened the car door, slamming it on Jessika’s “thank you”. You rushed inside, your phone buzzing with Jessika’s name flashing across your screen.

“I swear to god Jessika, if you tell me you just found your card in your wallet—“

“I didn’t, I just remembered a few other places you could check in case it’s not where I think it is.”

You took the elevator up to the third floor where your apartment was, Jessika chattering away in your ear. You speed-walked down the hallway, pulling your keys out of your pocket.

“Are you there yet?”

“Calm down, I’m unlocking the door now. Where am I supposed to look for your credit card?”

“Did you take it into your bedroom at all?”

“No.”

“Then try the kitchen counter first.”

You walked into the apartment, confused as to why it wasn’t pitch black. “One of you left a light on!”

Karé and Jessika both mumbled something incoherent into the phone as you walked towards the kitchen and you suddenly stopped cold in your tracks. Standing in front of you was Poe, his eyes lighting up and a wide smile crossing his face illuminated by the lamp in the living room when he saw you. A single cupcake with a lone candle sat in his hand.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

You were speechless, your mouth attempting to form words but failing miserably as your brain wondered if you were hallucinating. Birthday or not, he was the last person you expected to see.

“Surprise!” Jessika and Karé exclaimed into the phone, taking your silence as the sign you had found your surprise. “We got you for the evening so Poe’s got you for the night! We’ve got Beebs and we’re spending the night elsewhere. Have fun, we’ll see you in the morning!”

They hung up on you but you still didn’t move, still too stunned that this was real. Poe chuckled and blew out the candle on the cupcake so wax wouldn’t melt onto it before setting it down. He tilted his head to catch your eye with a smirk on his face.

“Sweetheart?”

You set your phone and keys down on the counter and walked swiftly towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your head in his shoulder. Poe returned your fervent embrace, lifting you off the ground as he hugged you just as tightly as you were hugging him. He pressed a kiss to the juncture of your shoulder and you brought your head around to crash your lips onto his.

Poe’s hand came up to cup the back of your head, strands of your hair slipping between his fingers. You cupped his cheek with one hand, the feeling of his lips finally on yours bringing back the familiar butterflies you’d been missing for weeks.

You pulled away breathless, a laugh of disbelief slipping from your lips as he set you back down on the ground but keeping his arms tight around you.

“How!?”

“Jessika snuck me in here after you left. That’s why she was late for dinner.”

Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a watery laugh. This was, by far, the best birthday present you’d ever gotten. Poe looked at you in concern.

“Hey, are you ok?”

You nodded and gave him a sure smile. “I’m fine. Better now.”

Poe placed his hand on your cheek and brought your lips back to his in a short, sweet kiss. He then reached behind you to the cupcake off the counter, only removing his arm from around you long enough to re-light the candle. You smiled as you blew out the candle, taking a bite of the red velvet cupcake and getting another kiss from Poe to get the frosting off of your lips.

“I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Poe said with a soft smile as he reached his hand into his pocket. “I did anyway.”

You set the cupcake down and he placed a tiny drawstring bag into your hand. You opened it and a silver bangle fell into your palm, a small hockey skate charm hanging off of it. You laughed as you ran your thumb across it.

“Now I’ll have daily reminder of how badly I skate,” you laughed, looking up at Poe to see a humorous smile on his face. “I love it, thank you.”

Poe grabbed it from your hand and clasped it around your wrist, the tips of his fingers moving gracefully against your skin and sending goosebumps across your skin. You admired it as you rested your hand against Poe’s chest, his hands settling back onto your waist.

“So, I get you for the night huh?” You asked, your fingers running over the collar of his shirt.

“The whole night. Whatever you want to do.”

“How long do I have you tomorrow?”

“Just until the morning. I’ve got a ton of grading to do you and you’re going to see your mom and sister.”

You sighed. “I could ditch them. Say I have homework or something.”

“I can’t have them hating me before they even meet me.”

You giggled and glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Twelve hours isn’t enough time.”

“I know,” Poe said, squeezing your waist and leaning down to kiss your cheek. “We better make the most of the time we have then.”

Placing a hand on his cheek, you brought Poe’s gaze to you. You gave him a small smile before leaning in and placing your lips on his. Your lips moved slowly together, every intention of your desire for him expressed in one simple action. His eyes were dark when you broke the kiss, studying your face as if deciding where he wanted to kiss you next. Stepping out of his embrace, you moved to the living room to turn off the lamp before holding out your hand. He took it, squeezing it gently as you led him to your bedroom.

You undressed each other slowly, taking time to kiss or touch every new piece of skin exposed. Looking down at you with a hand on your lower back, he guided you back to your bed. His eyes were dark but he wasn’t looking at you like a predator hunting its prey; dare you say there was complete adoration sparkling behind his brown eyes.

Poe kissed you once more before moving down your body, kisses being pressed wherever he could reach. His lips moved along the outline of your bra, nimble fingers circling behind you to take it off and throwing it aside. He suckled your breasts, tongue gently flicking against your hardened nubs and making you sigh in complete delight. He gave your breasts equal attention before moving down your stomach, the lightness of his lips tickling your stomach.

Poe’s fingers dipped into the waistband of your underwear and his eyes connecting with yours looking for the ‘okay’. With a sure nod of your head, he tugged them down your legs and tossed them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. His fingers curled around the bend of your knee, lips connecting to the spot next to your kneecap and moving upward. His lips ghosted up your thigh, breath hot against you and long eyelashes tickling your skin as his warm breath hit your slick folds. He pressed a kiss against you, a quiet gasp falling from your lips when his tongue ran along you up to your clit. Your hands flew to his hair, a quiet “fuck” mumbled breathlessly and you briefly wondered if it would be selfish of you to ask him to stay between your legs for the rest of the night.

He grabbed one of the hands that was in his hair and brought it down to rest against your lower stomach, fingers tangling together as he held your hips still while he worked his tongue against you. He sucked your clit between his lips, a high-pitched whine escaping you as you squeezed his hand.

“Poe, please…” Your voice was breathy, like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. A light tug on his hair made Poe move back up your body, leaving chaste kisses all over you until he hovered over you, chest pressed against yours and his cock nestled against the juncture of your legs. He brought your hands up next to your head, holding them down with light pressure. You breathed heavily, eyes raking over his face from the shine of your arousal on his lips and the slope of his nose to the crinkle of his eyes. “I need you.”

His dark hooded eyes took you in, the pink tint of your flushed skin and the way your lips were swollen from being consumed by his. He had completely melted you into a puddle. He let go of your hand to line himself up to your entrance, his eyes never leaving your face. You leaned up and brushed your lips over his as his forehead came down to rest against yours. He pushed inside you slowly, a quiet moan coming from your throat as he settled inside you. He held still to let you adjust around him, his hand coming up to brush the hair out of your face.

“Fuck, I miss you,” he whispered as he started to move, his hips rocking into you with a tenderness you hadn’t experienced with him before. A quiet gasp fell from your lips, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. Your arm escaped his grasp above your head to wrap itself around his neck.

Poe brought his lips down to yours, swallowing every noise you made as he kissed you deeply and slowly, the pace of his thrusts deep and deliberate. His hands ran over your body, already familiar with every curve and every place that drove you wild. Poe connected his lips to your neck, gently sucking reminders of your night across your neck and collarbone. He drove his hips into yours, the movements deep and precise and you felt like he could push you straight through the mattress.

If he did, you’d hold him tight and drag him down with you.

You put a hand on his chest and he stilled, looking down at you. You gave him a knowing smile as you pushed against him lightly. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you as started to sit up, sitting back and pulling you into his lap. Your hands rested on the side of his neck as you ground your hips against his, the new angle sending ripples of pleasure through your bodies. Soft moans left your lips as Poe guided you up and down his cock with his hands on your hips, his own sounds against your skin making you shiver. You threw your head back, whispered praises from Poe said against your chest.

He met the movement of your hips, the angle making his cock brush against that spot inside you with each thrust. You clenched around him, the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach beginning to form. Poe kissed up from your chest to your neck, nuzzling his nose against it and letting his teeth gently scrape the outline of your pulse point.

“Baby…” Poe formed the word against your skin, tears pricking your eyes at the affection behind it. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

Neither of you were going to last long but the amount you cared about it was very little. You wanted it to last, but you also craved the way he made you fall apart, and you knew it would be the first of many rounds that night. Poe claimed your mouth for the hundredth time that night, another kiss of many more to come, before kissing back down your neck to your shoulder. You held him close as you fell over the edge, your whole body trembling and the the rush of your orgasm almost making you cry from the flurry of emotions you felt at that moment. Poe grunted into your shoulder, his breath hot against you as he came, stilling his movements and holding your waist tightly as he spilled inside you.

You felt like you ceased to exist, as if you had come together in the throes of pleasure and become one.

Neither of you spoke, both of you too afraid of blurting out your shared secret. So you kissed him. You let your lips say the words you were scared to say, but you felt them. Oh, did you feel them. Poe held you impossibly close, as though he could absorb every part of you and take you back with him. His fingertips ghosted up your spine and you rested your forehead against his, breathing the same air as the euphoric high settled into a dream like haze.

You stayed in that position until you couldn’t, the call of the bed beneath you becoming too great to ignore. Poe laid back, bringing you with so you laid on top of his chest, completely relaxed and moving your head between resting your chin on his chest to look at him and laying your cheek against his beating heart. He stayed inside of you and stroked your hair, neither one of you in any hurry to move.

You were mostly quiet, too busy basking in each others company to have in depth conversations. Any conversations you did have ended in laughter and the swapping of kisses, limbs tangled together as you held each other as close as you could. Once again, you and Poe fought off sleep as long as you could, dreading the coming of daybreak when you’d have to part until the next time you’d be able to see each other…whenever that would be.

But you still had that night and while you couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words, you’d show Poe just how much you loved him over and over again.

taglist [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @yougottakeeponkeepinon @linibirdimagine @goddamndameron @starrykitn @cloud-leader @damnyoudameron @liadamerondjarin @april-14-blog @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron smut #back to you series #modern au #modern poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Tuesday, 18:47

Song: EDEN - how to sleep

Lucas seizes up as the front door opens, gathering himself up and pushing to his feet. If he does it naturally, he can probably slip to his room without his father protesting too much. He can probably excuse himself with homework. He won’t have to interact, not properly.

His plan would work perfectly, in normal circumstances. Normal circumstances just usually don’t involve running into a moving skeleton three steps into the hallway.

He’s mildly embarrassed by the squeak he lets out, and by the pitch of his voice as he screeches, “What the fuck?”

His father curses under his own breath, moving the skeleton flapping in his arms out of his face, and mutters, “Language.”

“Dad,” Lucas sputters as the dummy is shoved into his hands. “What the hell is this?”

Hugo ushers him back into the sitting room, following behind with shopping bags hanging heavily from his hands. He dumps them on the coffee table and takes the skeleton out of Lucas’s arms to prop him up on the couch, watching them with a gaping, toothy grin. “Halloween decorations.”

Lucas bites back the urge to sarcastically thank him for stating the obvious and chooses to further his question. “Why?”

After the scoldings Lucas has gotten over the past few weeks, watching his father turn to him with his hands on his hips is a rather nerve-wracking thing. The smile on his face, however, turns out to be the most disconcerting. “So we can decorate.”

“We?”

“I thought it would be something nice to do together,” Hugo shrugs.

Lucas blinks at him. He feels the need to tread cautiously. He’s very worried that he’s somehow being played, in an oddly surprising way. “But...Halloween is in four days.”

“Exactly.”

“Everyone else has had their houses decorated for weeks.”

“Yeah, but we’ve only been getting moved in. We have the best excuse.”

Lucas continues to stare at him.

Hugo sighs, rubbing his hand over his brow, gesturing at the skeleton. “Do you have to be such a moody teen over everything? I bought a skeleton, buddy.”

The old nickname softens Lucas a little bit. Just a little. He looks at the skeleton once more. Flimsy, about three-quarters the height of Lucas, black smudges dotting his gray-toned bones. The right number of ribs, missing a tooth (with another cracked), eye sockets deeply sunken. Just on the realistic side of cartoonish.

Lucas asks, “What’s his name?”

His father grins proudly. “Tim.”

“Tim?”

“Same as one of my old-coworkers. Piece of work himself. One of the know-it-all types. Even worse than a moody teenager.”

Lucas can’t help it. He snorts. “Poor Tim.”

His father waves a hand at him. “Well, he’s a member of the household now. A blessedly silent member.”

Lucas raises his brows. He examines the skeleton once more, then leans forward and gently picks up its left arm. He presses the small button on the inside of its wrist.

Tim’s eyes flash red as his jaw drops open in evil, mechanical laughter.

Hugo jumps and curses under his breath again and Lucas lets out a laugh, delighted. He leans back in to grip Tim around the waist, picking him up and drawing that same arm around his shoulder, playing with the skeletal fingers. It’s unexpected. To be turning to his father with a grin, to feel the remnants of laughter settling cosily in his stomach. He likes it, and he likes the soft smile that lightens his father’s eyes, and he likes the comfort of the small space when it lacks the tension and the animosity of the previous few days, of the past week.

He asks, carefully, “What else did you get?”

His father beams. He moves to the bags on the table and begins pulling banners out of the way, followed by a packet of bats and pumpkin lights and various other witchy products. Lucas feels his pleasure grow at each new item and nods approvingly.

“Good idea?”

Lucas nods, humming. “You’ve definitely had worse.”

The man accepts the jibe with nothing more than a small shrug. “You happy enough to take an hour to do it now? I’ll start hanging these around the place and you can get Tim situated. Maybe somewhere around the door?”

“Sounds good,” Lucas agrees. He grips Tim’s arm tighter and carries him out into the hallway, making sure to press the little button once more as he passes his father. He chuckles at the swears he receives in response.

It’s almost therapeutic. Even as the desire to let Tim’s bones scatter on the street grows, there’s something simplistic and soothing about decorating the place. Something that makes it feel a little more like it’s his. A little more like a home. It helps that he loves Halloween. He loves the spookiness, the eeriness, the beauty in the horror. It’s satisfying, watching the angry little pumpkin faces emit a stunningly bright glow. There’s a sort of poetry to all of it, he supposes, to the veil around the world becoming foggy, to the masks people wear becoming visible.

There’s an artistry, too, that he appreciates more than anything. The sharpness, the otherworldliness, the darkness. The meaning under it all, of the in-between.

Beauty in the horror.

He supposes there’s a little beauty, too, in doing it together. They work together to hang the string-lights up in the hall, and the silence isn’t strained or uncomfortable. It’s companionable, filled with little huffs of laughter as one or the other gets caught, or trips, or drops the line. The usual simmering anger that sits in his chest is entirely absent, just for these few moments.

“You used to love Halloween when you were a kid,” his father says suddenly, and Lucas glances over at him. “Your mom always avoided buying stuff she thought would scare you, but you never flinched at any of it. You wanted all the weird loud things that used to make Kes bawl his eyes out. The only things you didn’t want were the spiders.”

Lucas laughs at the idea of little Kes, terrified, and Lucas enjoying scaring him as he had with his dad today. He remembers how his friend would retaliate, finding the biggest fake-spider in the place and sneaking up to set it on Lucas’s shoulder. He’d only stopped at the age of twelve, when Lucas had given him the silent treatment for a week in response. “I did notice you didn’t bring any of those back.”

“I do pay attention, sometimes. I also remember that you liked it most because of all the sweets.”

“You could have just brought back a cake,” Lucas agrees lightly, shooting him a grin.

“Yeah, but we couldn’t have shared that. You would’ve eaten it all yourself.”

Lucas laughs quietly, realising he can’t argue, that there’s plenty of proof in the past to refute anything he would say. There’s a calm that has settled over him, and he relishes in it.

For a moment.

“Hey, Luc,” his father starts slowly, and some of the tension in Lucas returns. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you. It’s a big change, and a bad age to be making it, and I don’t know how many times I can apologise for it before you’ll forgive me.”

Lucas tacks his end of the lights to the wall and listens carefully.

“I should be making it easier for you, but I think it’s pretty obvious that I just have no idea how. It used to be so easy for us, too, you know? I used to know you so well. Now I keep stuffing up.”

Lucas slowly lowers his hands to his sides and turns to face him. “Dad,” he starts, but the man shakes his head.

“I was harsh on you the other night. And the week before that. I know that. I just don’t know what else to do. You don’t let me in. I can only react to what I see. And maybe I overreacted, but I only do what I think is right. I think what worried me most, about the weed, is that it didn’t surprise me. And now, I know, it’s probably natural to all of you nowadays and it might not surprise many, but it’s more that—well it didn’t surprise me that you managed to hide it from me. It was just another nail in the coffin.”

“I don’t hide everything from you,” Lucas says quietly. “You surprise me a lot more often.”

“I know,” Hugo says, just as gentle, abandoning his task to turn to Lucas too. “I know, buddy, and I am sorry. I’m trying to do better. But I need you to try with me.”

Lucas swallows thickly, averting his gaze to his feet for a moment. There’s a war going on in his chest, the childish urge to hold onto this leverage over his father and the desperate desire to give in, to claw for some semblance of harmony. Beyond all of it, canceling out all the rest, is the whisper that whatever answer he gives won’t matter. The harmony could never last, and he’s stupid to hold onto that tiny bit of hope, a tattered little shred he hadn’t even realised he held.

But it’s this little whisper that strengthens his resolve, that makes him return his gaze to the man before him and give a tiny nod.

“Okay. I will. Promise.”

His dad squeezes his shoulder, and none of his anger returns at the contact. He leans into it, and he lets himself hope.

Hugo lets him go and moves to tack up the middle of the string-lights. “So as it’s my proposal, I feel like I should make the first move, and say if you wanted to have a few friends or something over for Halloween, that would be okay.” He pauses. “You have friends here, right?”

Lucas huffs. “Yes, I have managed to make friends here. But everyone will be going out for Halloween. They know I’m not allowed out, so they probably already have plans, or whatever.”

The realisation settles in that this may very well be true, and it’s another sting settling in his heart. He’s still too invested, much too invested, and he still hasn’t figured out what to do about it. Managing his emotions felt a lot easier when he was pretending—even with himself—that he didn’t have any.

Now every time he sees Jens without him, he aches, and when he sees Jens with Jana, he breaks, and when he sees Jens at all, he has various emotions that he really doesn’t want to think about in such close proximity to his father.

His father, who is currently frowning at him in genuine concern. “You really think so? Surely good friends would make the effort to include you.”

Lucas thinks of Jens messaging him about meeting up even while thinking he was in a different country. Of Jens dragging him to the party a few days before that. Always of Jens.

He directs his gaze back down to the ground and shrugs. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t ask that of them. I haven’t even known them that long.”

Hugo sighs and makes his way back to the kitchen, leaving Lucas to stand alone for a moment before following. They hang up half a packet of bats before the older man says, “A curfew is still kind of a punishment, right?”

Lucas whips his head up to look at him. He’s focused on the bat in his hands, unwilling to look at his son and the excitement suddenly building in him. “Yes, definitely. Better than grounding, really. More embarrassing. Will definitely get me laughed at.”

“So, say, if you wanted to go out with these friends of yours. That would be okay, as long as you’re back by midnight?”

Lucas nods quickly. Much too quickly.

Hugo’s eyes narrow. “Midnight’s too good, isn’t it?”

“No, of course not, midnight is super lame.”

“No, make it ten.”

“Ten?” Lucas tosses his hands up. His dad turns to look at him, now raising his brows in challenge. “Eleven,” Lucas counters.

The man considers him. “Ten-thirty. Final offer.”

“Midnight was your first offer!”

Brows are raised further.

Lucas blows out a breath and turns on his heel to collect more bats. “Ten-thirty.”

It takes ten more minutes of hanging decorations before Lucas chances asking.

“So, does this mean I can have my weed back?”

His father stares at him. “Buddy, I might not be able to stop you from smoking it, but I can’t just give it to you. I have some parenting skills, you know.”

“It could be bonding! We could share that too.”

“Nice try. Give me that orange tinsel. We’ll give Tim a little sparkle.”

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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tali-zorahs · 4 years

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@shadowgast-week day 6: fairytale au// domesticity

Caleb could hear distant swearing in the general vicinity of the kitchen, which was noteworthy on its own. Essek—for it clearly was him, as the two of them were currently the only ones in the home—rarely swore, something that set him apart from most of the people Caleb associated with. Abundantly curious as to what might have managed to garner such a rise from the usually studiously polite man, Caleb crept into the kitchen.

Apparently Essek’s task kept him sufficiently distracted such that Caleb was able to make his way to where he could see what had caused Essek to swear so much. Essek faced away from Caleb, towards the rarely used kitchen counter. Unlike its usual state, the kitchen counter was now littered with things, mostly cookware and scattered pages. A couple pages floated in midair next to Essek’s head. Squinting at the pages, Caleb could make out what appeared to be a recipe. On a second glance, Caleb now noticed that Essek was covered in flour, as was much of the counter.

Doing his best to resist breaking into a wide smile, Caleb completed his journey into the kitchen by wrapping his arms around Essek from behind. Essek immediately curtailed his string of complaints and let out what some might describe as a squeak, if it had come from someone other than Essek.

“You’re here early,” Essek commented once he regained a bit of composure, shifting back into Caleb’s hold. Caleb distantly registered that Essek was floating—something he rarely did at home anymore.

“Hmm, ja. Would you believe that I wanted to see you before everyone else got here?” Caleb asked him, humoring Essek and responding to his comment rather than addressing his burning curiosity regarding the scenario he had happened upon.

“I’m gratified to hear that my husband enjoys seeing me,” Essek commented, “though I had hoped you wouldn’t see this.”

“And what might this be?” Caleb asked, not attempting to fight back the smile anymore.

“I think that should be abundantly clear,” Essek commented, frustration evident in his voice.

“You’re…baking?” Caleb asked after taking stock of the food items on the counter. Flour, butter, sugar—clearly some sort of sweet. Immediately in front of Essek lay a bowl of some amount of the mixture, though the ratio seemed incorrect based on the odd color and lumpy texture.

“Attempting to,” Essek said, “though it seems being a dunamantic prodigy does not grant other skills.”

“And what exactly went wrong?” Caleb asked, looking back to Essek, or what he could see of Essek, as he was still wrapped around the man from behind.

“That, I am currently unsure of,” Essek told him, turning to study one of the pages still floating next to his head, “I followed the recipe, but I must have gotten some step wrong.”

“And what exactly prompted you to venture into the baking world just now?” Caleb asked him,

Essek stayed silent a beat, and Caleb allowed him the silence. Whatever it is, it was embarrassing to Essek in some way. After the moment passed Essek responded, “Well, I knew everyone was coming over later. And Jester is always complaining that the bakeries near here never make anything sweet enough, so I thought I might attempt to make something that satisfies her sweet tooth.”

Caleb nearly bit his lip as he smiled at Essek’s response. The Essek he first met would never have considered to bake something for a friend. That Essek didn’t have friends, nor did he do anything for anyone if the exchange was not transactional in some way. While Caleb had a hard time believing Essek would go too far out of his way for a stranger even now, the fact that Essek was willing to do things for his friends—their friends, by this point—was endearing. Heartening.

“That’s very kind of you, Liebling,” Caleb commented to Essek.

Essek laughed a bit bitterly in response. “A kind thought, but that does not create a good pastry.”

“Jester will appreciate the thought even if it didn’t work out,” Caleb responded. “Though if you’re really hoping to make sweets for Jester then there’s still time before everyone gets here.”

“I’m not sure if my efforts will be worth it. I still do not know what mistake I made that caused the issue with the last batter, and I can’t be sure I wouldn’t just repeat the same mistake,” Essek told him. Caleb took advantage of their position to lean down and kiss the back of Essek’s neck, grinning when he heard the tiny inhale from Essek.

“Well, there would be a difference this time, as I will be here. Caduceus may do all of our cooking when we’re in a group, but I’m not unfamiliar with baking. It has been a while, but I do not easily forget things,” Caleb responded, speaking directly beside Essek’s ear. Caleb noted the flush to the ear and appreciated the fact that even now something so simple could get a response from Essek. It was nice, being casually affectionate. He may be used to it by this point, but that didn’t mean he took it for granted.

“I see. And what do you remember making?” Essek asked him, wiggling a bit like he was considering turning around in Caleb’s arms but remaining as he was.

“Ah, Zemnian sweets mostly. I don’t remember entire recipes, unfortunately, because I never baked by myself.”

“Oh, and who did you bake with?” Essek asked, seemingly curious to find an aspect of Caleb’s past that he had not yet uncovered.

Caleb responded more quietly when he said, “my mother.”

“Oh,” Essek responded immediately, tensing up a bit. “And you do not mind, ah…helping me in this?”

“I do not,” Caleb told him truthfully. Caleb had many fond but now bittersweet memories of helping his mother bake when he was younger, in the time before he went to the Soltryce Academy. While he would never truly be able to move past it, he was thankful for what good memories he had, even if the happy memories only made him feel more guilty. “I admit I would appreciate being able to make more happy and…uncomplicated…memories regarding baking.”

“Well, if you’re offering, I would be a fool to turn you down,” Essek told him, finally succumbing to his desire to twist around in Caleb’s grasp so that he faced Caleb. Caleb gave him a gentle smile, one that Essek returned. Caleb noticed then that Essek had flour on his face as well, causing him to laugh. “What, why are you laughing?” Essek questioned him, narrowing his eyes.

Caleb reached up to rub his thumb across the patch of flour on Essek’s face, only serving to spread more of it over his cheek. “You know, I do believe that when you bake your intent is to keep the food in the bowl.” Essek quirked an eyebrow and frowned at him, prompting Caleb to lean down to meet the frown with a kiss, tilting Essek’s face up in the process. Caleb felt a bit of a huff, most likely a laugh, as he leaned down further to meet the man, who moved his arms to wrap around Caleb’s neck.

Caleb separated a moment to remark, “so, any reason for the floating today?”

“Easier to reach things,” Essek responded quickly before pulling Caleb back in. When they separated Caleb found himself laughing this time. “Are you here to laugh at my stature? Because I do believe you promised me you’d help me with some baking.”

“Of course, of course,” Caleb told Essek, moving further from him to indicate his seriousness in the offer. “Show me the recipe and we’ll see what we need to do to restart this.”

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #shadowgast week #my art #don't mind me all i know about baking comes from watching gbbo #i included fanfic again this time bc i wanted to elaborate on the art #i hope people don't come to expect too much from me #shadowgast week landed during the exact week between me graduating law school and starting bar prep #so yeah i'm making the most of what time i have now #my writing

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compassionthreads · 4 years

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Real Apologies

Someone asked how to deliver real apologies and how to grow out of behaviors that hurt others and here is what I can offer under the read more:

Why it can be hard to apologise

So why do so many people struggle with admitting their mistakes, electing instead to play the ostrich-head-in-the-sand game? Often masquerading behind stiff facades and a determination to shift blame (often onto the hurt party), and to save ego and skin, it’s a dangerous place to sit long term.

Owning and admitting mistakes of any kind can feel like a loss of power and a declaration of weakness. This is a phoney fear in reality as taking responsibility and apologising takes great courage and strength.

Studies also show entrenched non-apologists grapple with deeper psychological conflict around apologising as it elicits fundamental shameful feelings (either conscious or unconscious) they desperately want to avoid.

Sue Parker wrote for SmartCompany:

For clarity, I’m reflecting in this article on the commonplace (but still harmful) mistakes that are made in our lives and businesses — as opposed to those of the monumental, historical, government, institutional and or royal commission kind. -SUE PARKER AUGUST 14, 2019

So, given that humans make mistakes, be they intentional or inadvertent, why is admitting and apologising with remorse often akin to pulling a decayed tooth from a tiger? What prevents people stepping out to take responsibility and remedy? Mistakes that are not addressed can be set in stone causing ongoing commercial and human damage.

“It’s never too late to put things right. It’s never too late to say sorry and mean it.”

A genuine apology can shift mountains of despair, alleviate hurt, elevate self-esteem and purpose, encourage honesty, build partnerships, foster trust and most importantly allow situations and relationships to really repair, grow and succeed.

An apology:

Is simply the right and decent thing to do;

Works to repair and re-establish relationships and trust;

Helps restores dignity and wellbeing to the other party who has been hurt;

Minimises conflict and gives the space for business creativity;

Strengthens self-respect and values

Minimises feelings of deep remorse that can impact you physically and emotionally.

-SUE PARKER AUGUST 14, 2019

Apologies are definitely “crucial conversations,” and the book gives good insight into the win-win potential a real apology creates:

…an apology isn’t really an apology unless you experienced a change in heart. To offer a sincere apology, your motives have to change. You have to give up saving face, being right or winning in order to focus on what you really want. You have to sacrifice a bit of your ego by admitting your error. But like many sacrifices, when you give up something you value, you’re rewarded with something even more valuable — healthy dialogue and better results.

According to The Power of Remorse and Apology by Hershey H Friedman an apology is structured in the next manner:

What does an apology entail? O’Hara (2004), synthesizing the literature on apologies, states that an effective apology has the following four elements:

(1) Identification of the wrongful act; (2) Expression of remorse and regret for having committed the act; (3) Promise to forbear from committing the wrongful act in the future; (4) Offer of repair.

There can be an apology without remorse. Indeed, this is usually a failed or pseudo-apology, an apology that does not heal and may make matters worse. Lazare (2004, pp. 85-106) describes various types of apologies that do not indicate true remorse, for instance:

An apology that minimizes the offense or implies that the victim was not really hurt.

A conditional apology such as “If anyone has been hurt by my actions, I am sorry” does not usually indicate remorse.

On the other hand, there can be remorse without apology. Remorse usually indicates that there are psychological pain and suffering on the part of the wrongdoer. They wish they could go back in time and undo the bad deed. Many people regret past misdeeds and think of them often but may, however, never apologize to their victims.

Remorse without an apology may mean that both the victim and the offender suffer an entire life; there is no opportunity for healing.

Engel (2001, p. 12) observes:

When we apologize to someone we have hurt, disappointed, neglected, or betrayed, we give them a wonderful gift that is far more healing than almost anything else we can give. By apologizing, we let the other person know that we regret having hurt him or her. Just as important, we let this person know we respect him, and we care about his feelings. It becomes one of the most effective tools for mending a relationship.

Therefore this begs the question what constitues then, as a Non apology?

According to Zahra Barnes (JUL 21, 2015); A non apology constitutes of Five core signs that the aggravator does not mean what they say.

1. They Don't Seem to Understand Why They’re Apologizing

After actually saying "I'm sorry," comprehending what they did wrong is the bare minimum for an apology. "Sorry on its own is like a balloon without a string," says Greer. "It needs to be tied to them explaining how they hurt you."

If they’re not showing an awareness of why what they did wasn't okay and how it affected your feelings, they probably doesn't get that they did anything wrong in the first place. "The apology is just the beginning," says Greer. "The first thing it needs to be packaged with is an explanation of what exactly they’re apologizing for."

2. They Make It All About Themself

Empathy is key for a successful apology, but it needs to be done the right way. "When someone brings in their own experience, he runs the risk of trivializing the intensity of your feelings," says Greer. Instead of making it sound like they know exactly how they hurt you, they could have tweaked the language and settled on something like, "I'm sorry I created some backlash that was upsetting for you. I've been through some myself, and it wasn't fair to help put you in that position." (On a social example.) That way, it doesn't make it seem like they think they're in the same exact situation.

3. They Make a Show Out of It

So about that whole getting-on-his-knees and apologizing to (social circle or media) thing. "That's television, so it makes more sense there, but if a person is falling all over themselves just repeating that they’re sorry, it may not be sincere," says Greer. Without an explanation of how they plan on changing any hurtful behaviors in the future, dramatic apologies can fall flat. "An apology should include some sort of intention about how they’re going to change going forward," says Greer. That's one major way you'll know they care about not making the same mistake twice.

4. Their Actions Don't Mimic Their Words

Following a person’s stated resolve to do better, they need to actually, you know, do better. "You have to give it time to play out because what people say in the moment can only be supported by what they do in the future," says Greer. Otherwise, a lack of change shows they can't take ownership of the apology.

5. They Expect You to Get Over It ASAP

If a person does all of the above, they could still undermine what would otherwise be a good apology by expecting you to go back to normal in an instant. "That's more about them wanting you to get on with it without fully understanding why you might need more time," says Greer. Instead, after explaining that they knows how they hurt you and what they’ll do to make sure it doesn't happen again, a person who's truly sorry will get that it might take some time for you to heal.

Given this information it’s understood that the structure of the apology needs to be characterized by giving a victim space, understanding, empathy, and giving oneself personal introspection and reparation.

But to be more exact, how do you say you don’t mean something, and/or how do you avoid saying the wrong thing?

Kelsey Borresen (04/12/2018) has a good list of things Not to say during apologies that are representative of nonapologies:

1. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Even though this phrase begins with the words, ‘I’m sorry,’ it is not a real apology. It does not take ownership of any wrongdoing. It does not communicate remorse for your actions, and it does not express any empathy towards the other person’s feelings. Instead, it may imply that you think the other person is being irrational or overly sensitive. Try to understand and take responsibility for how your actions or words hurt the other person, saying something like, ‘I’m sorry that I canceled our plans at the last minute. It was inconsiderate of your time and I understand why you are angry at me.’” ― Gina Delucca, clinical psychologist at Wellspace SF

2. “I’m sorry I said that, but I never would have if you hadn’t behaved the way you did.”

“Again, we are hearing blame. ‘Look what you made me do.’ This is not an apology for one’s behavior but actually a maneuver to hold the other person responsible for one’s behavior. In other words, ‘You caused me to say this to you.’ We are all responsible for our behavior, no matter what the other person says or does. A heartfelt apology is to recognize the pain we cause and own our behavior: ‘I’m sorry that I reacted the way I did and upset you.’” ― Carol A. Lambert, psychotherapist and author of Women with Controlling Partners

3. “I was stressed out!” (or tired... or hungry... or in a bad mood...)

“This makes a recurrence of the offense almost inevitable. Always connect the apology to the future. For example, ‘The next time I feel that way (whatever triggered the offense), I will remember that I love you and that our bond is so important to me,’ or, ‘I’ll make sure I get centered in my values so I don’t act on impulse.’ The subtext should always be: ‘I’m sorry that I hurt you and harmed the bond between us.’” ― Steven Stosny, psychologist and author of Love Without Hurt

4. “I said I’m sorry already, why can’t you just let it go?”

“Blaming your partner for not immediately accepting your apology, forgiving you and moving on is unrealistic and unfair. For an apology to be effective, it must be clear that:

1) You accept full responsibility for your actions and inactions;

2) You are sincerely sorry for anything you’ve done to cause pain and

3) That you want to remedy the situation by giving your partner what they need to feel safe in order to move on and forgive you.

Not all apologies lead to immediate forgiveness. It may take time. And it may take apologizing more than once. Start by asking what your partner needs in order to trust you and feel safe and then do it.” ― Sheri Meyers, marriage and family therapist and author of Chatting or Cheating: How to Detect Infidelity, Rebuild Love and Affair-Proof Your Relationship

5. “I was reacting to...”

“This is an excuse, not an apology.” ― Stosny

6. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“This is an example of a conditional apology that doesn’t truly acknowledge any remorse or personal responsibility. By using the word ‘if,’ you are communicating that the problem isn’t really about what you did, but is about how the person reacted to what you did instead.

Essentially, this type of ‘non-apology’ places the blame back onto the person it’s directed at. Simply remove the word ‘if,’ and your apology can take on a whole new meaning: ‘I’m sorry I offended you. I will make sure to be more considerate and careful with my words in the future.’” ― Tara Griffith, marriage and family therapist and the founder of Wellspace SF

7. “I may have done this, but you did that!”

“Try to avoid keeping score and bringing up times when the other person was in the wrong. An apology is about you acknowledging the wrongfulness of your own actions and making amends; it is not about pointing fingers at other people as a way to justify your actions.” ― Delucca

Here are six words that can sabotage your apology in no time flat delivered by

1. You

There’s no better way to apologize without actually apologizing than following an “I’m sorry” with this three-letter pronoun. “I’m sorry you … [feel that way/think that/misinterpreted things/anything else].”

If you’re sorry, be sorry for your actions. Don’t imply that the recipient was wrong to feel upset or hurt.

Of course, context is important. If it applies, then feel free to throw in you at other points, as in the always appreciated expression “You were right, and I was wrong.”

2. But

This little conjunction may be the ultimate apology annihilator. You never know what will come after it, but whatever it is, it’s bound to steer your mea culpa away from sincerity and down a road of excuses and exculpations . Best to leave the phrase “I’m sorry, but … ” at the door.

3. If

Such a short little pronoun, but its passive-aggressive power is massive.

“If it came off that way …” “If I hurt you …” “If you think I was wrong …” If you were wrong there should be no ifs about it.

4. I

It’s obviously OK to start an apology with I, as in “I am sorry,” but if the rest of your apology is filled with “I this …” and “I that…” then there’s a good chance you’re making it all about you, and not about the person you hurt. Be mindful of how you incorporate this term, and whether what follows is a line of defense, or something more earnest and useful.

5. Blame

While the rain (cue Milli Vanilli), tequila, or anything else may have something to do with your actions, saying, “I blame it on … ” sucks the sincerity right out of an apology. It implies that you’re holding someone or something other than yourself responsible, and it sounds more like an explanation than a plea for forgiveness. Plus, we all know that it can never really be the tequila’s fault.

6. Not

This mighty adverb can come in handy in all kinds of heartfelt apologetic phrases, but the tired “sorry, not sorry” isn’t one of them. Enough with the sarcastic sorrow. Can we please just banish this phrase already? Either be sorry or don’t be sorry, and if you’re not, then words like unapologetic , impenitent, and obdurate have a much nicer ring.

Then if it is this easy to own up, apologize and move on, how come so many people cannot do this?

Why Apologies Threaten Non-Apologists, by Guy Winch tells us that for non-apologists, saying "I’m sorry" carries psychological ramifications that run far deeper than the words themselves imply; it elicits fundamental fears (either conscious or unconscious) they desperately want to avoid:

Admissions of wrongdoing are incredibly threatening for non-apologists because they have trouble separating their actions from their character. If they did something bad, they must be bad people; if they were neglectful, they must be fundamentally selfish and uncaring; if they were wrong, they must be ignorant or stupid, etc. Therefore, apologies represent a major threat to their basic sense of identity and self-esteem.

Apologizing might open the door to guilt for most of us, but for non-apologists, it can instead open the door to shame. While guilt makes us feel bad about our actions, shame makes non-apologists feel bad about their selves—who they are—which is what makes shame a far more toxic emotion than guilt.

While most of us consider apologies as opportunities to resolve interpersonal conflict, non-apologists may fear their apology will only open the floodgates to further accusations and conflict. Once they admit to one wrongdoing, surely the other person will pounce on the opportunity to pile on all the previous offenses for which they refused to apologize as well.

Non-apologists fear that by apologizing, they would assume full responsibility and relieve the other party of any culpability. If arguing with a spouse, for example, they might fear an apology would exempt the spouse from taking any blame for a disagreement, despite the fact that each member of a couple has at least some responsibility in most arguments.

By refusing to apologize, non-apologists are trying to manage their emotions. They are often comfortable with anger, irritability, and emotional distance, and experience emotional closeness and vulnerability to be extremely threatening. They fear that lowering their guard even slightly will make their psychological defenses crumble and open the floodgates to a well of sadness and despair that will pour out of them, leaving them powerless to stop it. They might be correct.

However, they are incorrect in assuming that exhibiting these deep and pent-up emotions (as long as they get support, love, and caring when they do—which fortunately, is often the case) will be traumatic and damaging. Opening up in such a way is often incredibly therapeutic and empowering, and it can lead them to experience far deeper emotional closeness and trust toward the other person, significantly deepening their relationship satisfaction.

Looking at the barebasics of the psychology behind non apologists, and what a non apology may look like, is it possible to implement an apology as an abuse tactic? The short answer ? Is yes, it is. And it is extremely common in familial and romantic relationships with toxic and or unhealthy people who do not know anything about emotional maturity. That and by abusers.

Emily Desanctis’s article for the Writer’s Corps tells us What “I’m Sorry” Means When it’s Used to Manipulate You:

1. A declaration made out of selfishness

Synonym: I don’t want to feel guilty anymore

I feel guilty because of what happened, and guilt isn’t a good feeling. I’m saying that I’m sorry to make myself feel better, not you.

2. A means to end a dispute that the apologizer would prefer to avoid, often for lack of caring

Synonym: This conversation is over

I’m tired and bored with this disagreement so I’m using these words to end it. I probably don’t believe it or don’t care enough to get to the real issue and so I’ll say this, so you’ll stop pressing for more. It may seem that I’m submitting to your point here, but in fact, I’m using this phrase to avoid doing so.

3. A method of appeasement to control another person

Synonym: I’m in control

I’m telling you what you want to hear not because I mean it, but because I know it will appease you and then allow me to pull your strings as I desire. If I don’t say it, there’s a high likelihood of some outcome occurring that I don’t want to happen—maybe you’ll stop talking to me or leave me home alone while you go out with your friends or break up with me for good. “I’m sorry” is simply a tool I pull out from my toolbox to prevent these things from happening.

4. A phrase designed to elicit an apology from the other party, whereby the original apologizer can deflect full responsibility to that other person; usually said in a hostile or sarcastic tone and often followed by an explicit or implicit “…but this is really your fault”

Synonym: you should be sorry

I wanted to hurt you and I did exactly what I knew would do so. But you started it—like always, you did something to make me upset: you weren’t where you said you’d be, you smiled at that stranger in an overtly flirtatious way, you took too long to respond to my text. Even though you might pretend that you didn’t mean to hurt me, I know that’s a lie. This is really your fault; in fact, you should be apologizing to me.

5. A means of furthering the test of how far the apologizer can push the other person’s boundaries and get away with it

Synonym: I’m testing you

I know what will hurt you and I do it with pleasure. I’m testing you to see what I can get away with—to see what you’ll put up with and what you won’t. “I’m sorry” is just something I say before I do this again—maybe the same exact way, or maybe slightly differently. Don’t worry, over time you’ll become desensitized to this; it will simply be “normal,” and so I’ll continue to push further so I can provoke you to react and keep myself entertained.

The hidden meaning behind any disingenuous “I’m sorry” is the same: I’m not really sorry because you deserve it. This is the lie that manipulators who lavish false apologies spread.

In short, a sincere apology can be seen in 3 parts: “I am sorry . It's my fault .What can I do to make it right?”

And how can a person show that they are becoming better?

Respect boundaries. Respect people’s intrincasies or walk away if you cannot coexist healthily. Communicate, constantly. Everything and Anything will be misinterpreted. This is not a joke, it is a common human matter.

Surround yourself with people who will be ready to openly critcize, hold you accountable and/or call you out on your unhealthy behavior, not those that will simply not along to your actions or look the other way when someone is being hurt by you. Yes men are not a ways to grow up, they are enablers who will hold you back on your path toward becoming a better, healthier person and who will allow you to walk all over them regardless of their own feelings and opinions.

Cultivate Gratitude. Yeah. You’ve probably heard it a million times, but keeping a gratitude journal of what you’re thankful for can have a big effect on your mindset. Research has shown that incorporating gratitude into your daily life can help ward off stress, improve sleep, and cultivate more positive social relationships.

Anna Hennings, MA, a mental performance coach in sport psychology, recommends using the acronym GIFT to help you identify what you’re grateful for.

When thinking about things you’re grateful for, look for instances of:

Growth: personal growth, like learning a new skill

Inspiration: moments or things that inspired you

Friends/family: people who enrich your life

Tranquility: the small, in-between moments, such as enjoying a cup of coffee or a good book

Surprise: the unexpected or a nice favor

The next time you find yourself feeling incompetent or overwhelmed, try telling yourself:

“I know this change is going to be challenging, but I’ve put a lot of meaningful thought into it and have considered all the options open to me [fact], so I feel confident I am doing the best I can in this moment [optimism].”

Being kind to others can help give you a sense of purpose and make you feel less isolated.

Try doing something nice for someone at random:

Pay a compliment to a stranger.

Buy lunch for your colleague.

Send a card to a friend.

Make a donation to someone in need.

“You’ll notice your mood lift a little when you do good for the sheer joy of it,” says Roantree. (Studies Trusted Source) show that simply counting acts of kindness for one week can boost happiness and gratitude.

Allow the other person’s experience to be what it is, without trying to dismiss their pain. Work to extend true empathy, as you strive to understand their perspective. There may be a time to teach them a life lesson; for now, offer your love and care instead, which validates their experience.

Before offering your opinion or guidance, think carefully about how it’s likely to be received. For example, that critiques of one’s parenting are almost never welcome. You might also take a closer look at what’s driving the pattern of criticism, and discuss with the recipient how you intend to change your behavior.

Be honest with yourself about the feelings you have that lead to the behavior. If you’re unhappy about something and it’s worth addressing, find a time and a way to do it directly and honestly.

Take a close look at your patterns in relationships. Look into information on “attachment style” (like this book), which is how we tend to connect with other people. You might also address this issue in therapy.

Think about the people you’re close to and who is going through a hard time. Let them know you are there if they need anything. Put reminders in your calendar to check in with them regularly. And remember, it’s much better to support someone imperfectly than to be absent, even if you don’t know “the right thing to say.”

Share more openly with the people who need to know. This will probably be painful at first, but it will spare you and others pain in the long run. It is also likely to lead to more support than you otherwise would have had, and perhaps to a solution you hadn’t thought of.

When you listen and ask more, you are better able to learn and understand others. Compassion and empathy are learned emotions and behaviors.

When you people please, it’s not genuine. And people can definitely feel that and can tell. It doesn’t benefit anyone. The person who is on the receiving end feels uncomfortable and like the other person is acting out of obligation.

Have you ever met someone who was super nice to you, but rude to workers and waiters? Or they were always complimenting you, but always had something mean to say about everyone else? Or they showered you with gifts and ‘love’ only because they wanted something in return or to manipulate you? This is similar and these people may very well be people pleasers. They just want everyone to like them if it serves them.

This is not most people pleasers though. People pleasing often stems out of fear and anxiety, fear of rejection and low self-esteem which results in lower standards, letting people walk all over us, and being afraid to say no.

You should never try to be generous for the sake of being liked. That’s not generosity. It’s people pleasing. And people will often see right through it.

One should learn from other’s mistakes. This is one of the best way to become a better person. People around you - Parent, sibilings, cousins, friends make mistakes. Its always wise to learn from their mistakes, and avoid it in your life.

One should accept their own mistakes. This is first step toward improving yourself, if you don’t accept your mistakes, you are never going to improve. If someone think, he is always right, then in reality he is doing something terribly wrong.

Be humble and avoid ego. There is always someone, who is better than you, so having ego on something is never going to work.

And most importantly don’t pretend that “because it was (x time) ago” it does not matter or that the person / people you have harmed have to “get over it” or are “holding old shit” / “against you”.

Hurt is hurt whether you like it or not. And when you cause it, change needs to come from within, it needs to be a personal decision and choice.

Ask for introspective opinions and constructive criticism. Seek professional guidance and help. Sort your own shit out. Move on if you’re told to move on by your victims. Don’t cling.

Sources:

O’Hara, Erin Ann (2004). Apology and thick trust: What spouse abusers and negligent doctors might have in common. Chicago-Kent Law Review, 79(3), 1055-1089.

Lazare, Aaron (2004). On apology. New York: Oxford University Press.

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Writer’s name needed: https://www.dictionary.com/e/words-that-ruin-an-apology/

Lastly: Administrator’s personal imput.

#mental health #apologies #support #uhhh #hurting people #og post

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