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lloydskywalkers · 3 days ago

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barometric pressure

it's finally getting cold here and actually feels somewhat like winter so!! Zane on the brain, i rewatched s11 again and had feelings about the complete and total lack of addressing everything that went down in the Neverrealm, etc, so here's a shorter snippet of Zangst (that isn't even angst really it's just snow ramblings oops)

Exactly four months, six days, and an indeterminable amount of hours (it is ten) after they returned from the Neverrealm, the clear, crisp skies of late autumn give way to the gray, overcast start of winter.

It’s a painfully familiar sky, one Zane knows nearly as well as he knows himself. The graying clouds are as clear a signal of snow as anything, though he’s already well-prepared.

Vex’s whispers returned to his ears around the same time the first, familiar chill began seeping through the monastery walls.

For others who are not Zane, though, snow could still mean happier things. He still recalls the expression on Kai’s face the first winter he’d spent with them, snowflakes dotting his eyelashes as Jay wildly demonstrated how to craft a lopsided snowman. So Zane hopes, however weakly, that the rest of them can welcome the snow as enthusiastically as they have in the past.

His hopes are neatly shattered, however, when the first thing Cole does is set straight out for the woods and return with enough firewood to burn down the entire mountain.

“What are you gonna do, roast every marshmallow in Ninjago?” Jay gapes at him.

Cole rubs the back of his neck, firewood precariously balanced in one mitten-covered hand, his nose a shade darker than the rest of him from the growing cold. “Just thought we should be prepared,” he says. “In case the power goes out, or we just, you know. Wanna have a fire.”

Zane feels the room slip a little colder from his words alone. Or perhaps it’s his imagination — it’s been active, of late. For example, Vex and his whispers are several dozen realms away, and Lloyd is choking on the hot chocolate he’s drinking too fast instead of staring lifelessly at him from a frozen prison. Kai and Nya are fighting over the few coats they have that aren’t torn or stained or covered in what’s either glitter or the fragmented remains of their last enemy’s vehicle, not encased in blocks of ice, voiceless and empty.

Cole is…now distracted and giving him concerned looks, while Jay struggles to keep the firewood from spilling over his arms.

Ah. He’s drifting, again.

“How about we start the fire — in the fireplace, Cole, help—”

“Are you okay?” Cole asks bluntly, absently adjusting his hold on the firewood as Jay stacks the loose logs back in his arms.

“Of course,” Zane says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

A crucial error. He knows better. Leaving things at ‘of course’ is a risky move, but it’s certainly a better option than flat out asking Cole to pounce.

Jay makes it first. “Yeah, ‘cause when I’m fine, I disassociate staring out the window for hours all the time.”

“I was not disassociating.”

“Uh-huh. Hold on, lemme find a dictionary. Right next to ‘disassociate’, there’s a nice little picture of—”

“Lloyd,” Zane says. “You will find my image next to ‘emotionally removed’.”

“That is dissociating, and Lloyd’s next to ‘traumatized’. Nice try, though.”

“We’re all next to traumatized,” Cole mutters, finally giving up and dumping his stack of firewood next to the door. Zane quietly calculates how long it will take Kai to set it ablaze, along with how much it will cost to replace the door if it ends up collateral damage.

“Not me,” Jay says, hands on his hips. “I’m next to optimism. Which you could all use, you know.”

Cole stares at him in disbelief. “Optimism? You’ve predicted our deaths like, six times in the last month alone—”

“It’s called a joke, where’s your sense of humor?”

“Jokes are only funny if you aren’t screaming them, and — oh no you don’t.”

Zane sags in defeat as Cole snags him by the back of his sweater. He was so close, too. Normally, Cole and Jay’s arguments are the perfect time to make an escape. Either they’re getting more observant, or he’s getting careless.

“Look.” Cole lets go of his sweater, crossing his arms in front of himself. Zane can’t tell if he’s warding off the chill, or warding off the same dark thoughts that have haunted them all since the snow began sticking. “I know we’re not…there, anymore, so it’s different. But if you’re having a hard time—”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Cole huffs, his forehead still scrunched up in worry. “But if you were to hypothetically be having a hard time, I’d hope you could talk to us. Any of us. It doesn’t have to be me, just…” He looks away, staring out the window wistfully.

“Winters have always been fun, with everyone,” he finally continues. “Remember the first time it snowed, when it was just you and me and Jay?”

Zane avoids his eyes. He does remember, of course. He remembers everything, even the things he wishes he could forget. But the memories of those early days, the first few months adjusting to living with others in the monastery, have yet to be tainted with any kind of darkness.

Jay had been near-comically scrawny back then, hair pressed resolutely against his forehead from his countless attempts to get it to stay there. Cole had been smaller, too — a bit sharper around the edges, his walls a bit higher, but still open enough to make Zane feel like a part of their little team. He still remembers Cole’s laughter, observing Zane’s terrible first attempt at sculpting anything from the snow, Jay his long-suffering teacher.

It had been the first time snow had meant anything fun, instead of the perpetual silent blanket that cut Zane off from the rest of the world.

And now here he is, years later, with all of Jay and Cole’s efforts gone to waste.

“You should come outside with us, after Cole finishes his firewood mountain,” Jay suddenly says, a bit breathless. “See how your snowman skills are shaping up.”

It takes Zane a moment. His mouth is full of refusals, his mind stuck on the fact that the last shape he made from snow was an enormous, vicious ice dragon that nearly killed everyone he loves.

But Jay looks painfully hopeful, and a bit too nervous that Zane will say no, and Cole’s edges are so soft now, Zane fears his own sharp edges will only hurt him.

“Give me a moment,” he says, forcing his tone to sound light. “And I will. I will join you.”

Cole’s eyes light up, and a beaming smile breaks across Jay’s face.

“Sweet!” Jay claps him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go drag Nya out of hiding, but the snow’s piling up in the courtyard, so if we get out early enough we can ambush Kai with snowballs when he comes out.”

Cole rolls his eyes. “I’m not digging you out of your snow grave this time,” he calls, following after Jay.

“Spoken like someone who wants to take on Nya in one-on-one combat!”

“I’m not insane, I’m not doing that either!”

Zane hesitates, left alone in the hallway. He crosses his own arms against the sudden chill, tiny stabs of regret already making themselves known.

It is easy to lie, but what will happen when he actually joins them in the snow? What if the icy chill sets in, miles of white all around, and he loses himself again?

The others weren’t there. They know his role in the Neverrealm, of course, but none of them saw the monster he let himself become. The depths of his cruelty, his coldness, what he was capable of — all of it remains Zane’s secret to keep.

Well.

That is a lie, and with it lies another significant reason Zane should avoid setting foot outside. His presence will only ruin things.

Yet the quiet, aching part of him seeks out the exception anyways, because deep down, Zane is just as selfish as any other person.

Lloyd looks little better than Zane feels, his eyes glued to the graying skies with the same look of faint dread Zane stared the drifting snowflakes with. His knees are drawn up tightly to his chest where he sits on the sofa, his mouth pinched as he picks apart the already-fraying edge of his scarf.

His expression softens when he sees Zane, mouth curving up into a faint smile.

“You get cornered, too?”

At his brief look of confusion, Lloyd nods at the thick jacket Zane’s wearing.

Zane looks away. “They seem to think it will be fun. A snow day.”

“Mmh.” Lloyd turns back to the window. With a sigh, he slides his legs out, standing as he throws the threadbare scarf around his shoulders. “Guess we should get out there, before Jay starts building his nightmare snowmen in the courtyard.”

Zane blinks at him, taken aback. “You’re joining them?”

“Duh,” Lloyd frowns. “I wanna have fun, too.”

“Ah.” Zane isn’t sure if what he feels is guilt, envy, or some odd mix of the two. Confusion, he finally decides on. “It doesn’t…you’ll be alright, in the cold?”

Lloyd’s expression falls, but he doesn’t look away. He fiddles with the edge of his scarf, as if turning words over in his head.

“I’ll be okay,” he finally says, in the quiet, softer way he speaks now.

He used to be louder. Zane remembers, down to the exact cadence of his voice — straining a bit too low for his throat, acting a bit too old for his age. Less…reserved.

Younger.

Then Lloyd smiles, and Zane reminds himself that Lloyd’s voice is also lighter, these days. It’s been growing more so, ever since the last of the Oni attack was cleared away and the unhealthy pale left his skin. Lloyd’s quicker to laugh and easier to poke at. Slower to step into the role of leader, preferring to linger behind with the rest of them, as if he can soak up their warmth like a sadly starved sponge.

“I don’t mind wind,” Lloyd continues. “I like volcanoes. I think I’ll be fine in snow.”

He worries his lip, eyebrows furrowing. “The question is whether or not you will.”

Zane startles. “That is not—” He closes his mouth. The words do not come easily, or much at all. How can he make Lloyd understand, that he has no right to fear the snow? When snow is his element. When any pain caused by it is only his fault, in the first place. When Lloyd still bears the scars of frostbite, when Kai’s hands tremble in the cold, when Jay watches Cole with worried eyes and Nya frets over the water heater each night.

Lloyd’s hand settles tentatively over his own, a bright burst of warmth that quells the tremors Zane hadn’t realized run through his fingers.

“How about this,” he amends. “We can either stay inside and steal all Cole’s marshmallows for our hot chocolate, or you can come outside and help me fix Jay’s ugly snowman?”

Zane looks down. It’s a kind trick Lloyd’s using, one he’s learned well. Simple decisions — one a retreat, one a cautious step.

A part of him still balks at the idea of stepping out into the cold. Vex’s voice lingers in the freezing air, the reminder of bitter ice beneath his fingers and the cries of his friends.

Kai’s laughter shatters the silence, muffled through the monastery walls but no less clear. He can hear Nya’s quick follow-up, a round of foul cursing that would have Sensei frowning at them all.

Zane lets out a breath.

It is selfish. It is self-centered and short-sighted, and it is all but an insult to what he’s done to the people of the Neverrealm.

And perhaps Zane is a terrible person, after all.

But Zane is not a coward, either.

And Zane is fortunate enough to have a family, one who would lie and steal and cross realms and frozen wastelands for him, and he thinks, perhaps this once, he can be selfish for their sakes.

Squeezing Lloyd’s hand briefly, he nods. “I suppose it would be cruel to the poor snowman, to leave him in Jay’s hands.”

A smile splits across Lloyd’s face, a faint echo of the boy who dyed his uniform pink.

“Okay. Pixal’s got a scarf for you, then.”

Pixel does indeed have a scarf for him, and it is perhaps the most disastrous thing Zane’s ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she says, staring at the scarf in his hands. Her face screws up in frustration, lips set in what could be called a pout, if he didn’t know better. “I followed the instructions to the letter. My slipknots were perfect.”

Zane carefully places the scarf around his neck, wrapping the crooked, colorful mass of fabric around as many times as he’s able.

It ends up being about four, and he wonders briefly how many stores Pixal bankrupted of purple yarn.

“I love it,” he tells her. “Thank you.”

Pixal’s face breaks into a bright smile. “It’s warm, isn’t it? I wanted to be sure, that it was warm.”

Ah. The many layers make a bit more sense now, and Zane’s heart aches.

He does not deserve this, but the scarf still sits around his neck. Lloyd still waits for him by the door, endlessly patient and hopelessly trusting.

Kai still beams when he sets foot outside, blinking snowflakes from his lashes as he waves, moments before Nya dumps a bucketful of snow over his head.

Jay still lets him reshape his snowman, only scowling once at his critique before asking him which of their family they should recreate in snow.

Cole still smiles, when Zane sweeps out that same warm smile in the snowman that only just resembles him.

And Nya finally lets her hourly crisis over the water pipes go, handing him a snowball instead and instructing him to let Kai have it.

He doesn’t know the answer to Lloyd’s question, exactly. Whether or not he’ll be okay, when the snow falls heavy and the reminder of what he’s done presses heavier.

But he does know that the cold that followed him from the Neverrealm does not reach him, not even as he’s tackled into a heavy drift by Cole halfway through their snowball fight.

And perhaps, for now, that can be enough.

#ninjago #zane julien #everyone else is there too but #mostly zane #enjoy the peaceful fic zane it will not last long #my fic

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brownsugaboba · 2 days ago

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title: “The Tension Between Us: 19+ version.”

december 22nd, 2024.

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nanami kento x reader.

- black reader. (anyone can read, but emphasis on black.)

- 19+. (NO MINORS, only 19+)

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“nanami, are you teasing me?” you ask him with a smile as he continue to catch your breath.

he opens his eyes and they linger down your face, to your neck, and finally your chest as it rises. he couldn’t help himself, it was getting harder and harder for him to stand here and do nothing to the most stunning piece of art that landed into his fingerprints.

“absolutely.”

you can’t help but crack a small smirk at his blunt and honest response.

“at least be easy with me..” you tease back with your head tilted slightly, and eyes still not looking away from his brown ones; standing your ground still.

his eyes finally look past your chest and up into your own. “aren’t i always?” he gently traces small circles along your ass cheeks.

you smile widely, your small dimple on your right cheek finally breaking through. “you remember what happened last time..”

“you sure you can handle this, honey.” you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your own response, considering nanami’s face changed almost immediately after.

he remembered the night unfortunately, and though he only lasted a few seconds, he remembered the intoxicating moment like no other. the tightness around your skin, and how only half of him could fit inside. regardless, the outcome was the same.

“it-“ he pauses. “it wasn’t entirely my fault.” he eyes grow destined for the moment to happen again after remembering it in full. the bulge in his pants already making it difficult for him to breathe.

“honey~“ you chuckle and he quickly interrupts you.

“no~” he mocks you, which makes you smile even more. “don’t honey me.”

“you couldn’t even fit all of me inside, sweetheart.” his voice was soft and whisper like, and it distracted you from him backing you up to the back of the front door.

“nanami i was-“

he interrupts you once again, his eyes completely full of lust and love now. “it made it a bit difficult to last, even then.. look at you. how long do i truly need my love?”

you gaze into his eyes and listen to his response closely, however, all you can think about was that day. that night..

“are you blaming it on me?” you ask him with a smirk.

“absolutely not.” he says with no hesitation, and continues to push you against the door. once you make it there fully he moves his hands from your back and bring them to your hips; tracing the curves of your body on each side.

“i came a bit earlier than we both would’ve liked..” he starts. “so let me show you that i wont. let me show you that i can last (y/n).”

you knew that he only called you by your name when he truly wanted something, needed it so dearly. and he knew that you wouldn’t say no. and though he had that one thing that could control you so easily, you loved it. just the sound of your name leaving his lips. though to everyone else it sounded exactly the same, it sounded completely different to you.

before you can respond however, he moves his head lower down to your level; and since you were already slightly tall, it made things easier. he places his head in the crook of your neck and gently whispers into your ear, his lips purposefully touching your skin as he did so.

“i want this.” his hands find their way to your backside again, and he gives your cheeks a gentle squeeze. you can’t help but arch your back and let out a small hitch of breath in reaction to his sudden action.

“nana~mi.” the last syllable of his name had a slight moan added onto it as he gently glided his tongue along the side of your neck. you weren’t sure where this boldness came from, but you loved every second of it.

he slowly places a few kisses up along the now wet trail along your neck. his hands move from your backside and instead go up to hold your now arched back and pulls you in more.

he then pulls his head away and connects his eyes with yours again. however, he doesn’t go too far, he lets the tip of his nose run along your face. feeling the bumps and grooves he knew all too well.

“let me show you that i can make you moan-” he pauses in his speaking and movement, moving his lips over to yours. he gently bites your lower one before continuing.

“louder than they can make you laugh.”

he lean into his bite, arching your back fully now, wanting him to now taste you fully. he had you. right where he needed you, and you knew it. you couldn’t do anything less but to give in.

“let’s go do it then.” you finally let out, your heartbeat beginning to beat a bit faster than the few seconds before.

he lets out a small scoff and moves his lips away from yours now, which made you a bit saddened but nonetheless curious.

“why walk upstairs in those heels, and hurt your pretty feet, when i can have you here?” he asked, but it came out more like a statement. he pulls his head away from yours a bit more and slowly turns your body around, so that you faced the front door now.

you eyes were now aligned with the small round opening on the front door. you could see the dark sky, and other surrounding neighbors homes.. but you could only hear and feel your husband behind you.

he looks down and eyes your backside as he turns you, the arousing feeling in his heart and trousers only grew. he brings his hands down to your ass once again, holding both cheeks in either hand. he gently strokes the silk fabric covering your skin, before giving both a tight squeeze.

“i can’t believe i let you leave out like this, what an awful husband i am.” he says truly saddened.

you tense just slightly at the squeeze, not fully expecting it from him again. you can’t help but to arch your back just slightly and push out your size a bit more.. though you quickly stopped once seeing your neighbors leave out of their home.

“nanami, we can do this upstairs? the pullmans just-“

you were interrupted by his quick action of pulling you in close, and pushing your body forward; closer to the front door. with your head, now to the side, he moves his own to go beside it.

“i’ll talk you through it to keep you quiet, don’t worry sweetheart.” he whispers, trying to reassure you, but it did nothing.

all you could feel was the coolness from the door and his warm hands making their way underneath your dress. you felt as the silk fabric slowly rose above your thigh then your stomach. he moves his head from your own and looks down at the sight of your lace panties in his favorite color. the color only his favorite because of how it fell perfectly on your skin.

“it’s like you knew..” he whispered and you couldn’t help but smile, but your smile soon turned into a small gasp once he gently ran two fingers down your crack; along the lace fabric.

the small touch made your whole body feel hot, something only he could do. “nanami please..” you let out softly, hoping your neighbors didn’t hear. you’ve never gotten any noise complaints before, but that’s because you weren’t right behind the door.

“my sweet baby is begging already?” he whispered to you with a smile, going to place a peck on your cheek.

he moves his fingers back up your covered crack, then back down again a harder than before. he moves his fingers fuller down, running over your other covered holes as well.

you let out a soft moan, trying to catch your breath once again. you bring you hand up to cover your mouth, but nanami quickly grabs it with his other. instead, he moves it to your front side, and slowly inserts it inside your panties. he moves two of your fingers lower down and gently glides them across the surface of your now wet pussy, before moving his hand away.

you breaths speed up even more throughout his actions, knowing exactly what he was doing before he does it. “nanami, they’re right outside..”

once you finally feel your fingers gliding around the wet surface you made, you let out yet another moan.. and watch your neighbors glance over at the door.

nanami moved his head from beside yours and gently removed your panties, watching them slide down your legs. he brought his other hand fingers up to his mouth, and gently licked the two before bring them back down and running them along your crack once again.

the cool sensation sent a small shiver down your body, which only made him smirk in response. he then, without hesitation, inserted one of his fingers inside of your asshole; gently beginning to move it back and forth.

you let out a rather large gasp before groaning and slowly closeting your eyes. however the sight of your neighbors pointing at the door and whispering to one another made you grow quiet. instead, your legs tightened together, your hand still in between your thighs.

“honey.. we-“ you stop yourself as you feel another groan come up, and another one of your husbands fingers entering inside your whole. you close your eyes and try to get used to the new sensation, but you were too tight and body already trembling.

“sweetheart breathe for me..” nanami breathes out, he uses his other hand to unzip and unbuckle his trousers, finally releasing a bit of fabric so that his boner could breathe a bit. he takes his member out with a groan.

he slowly takes his fingers out of you and bring them up to his mouth to lick the taste of you away. he then wraps his arms fully around your waist, and pull you in entirely so that his boner was aligned with your crack. now with it against it, he gently moves his hips upward a bit, letting his length rub against you.

with both of your moans now intertwined, you can’t help but forget about the neighbors outside; and nanami could care less.

he moves his head beside yours yet again, his breaths almost as heavy as your own. “you’re too tight sweetheart, you need to breathe and relax.”

you try to take deep breaths but the only thing you can think about is how good nanami feels against you. “i don’t think i can.” you finally get out, your eyes closing even more as he continues to rub against you.

“insert one baby..” he whispered and placed a small kiss along your shoulder. “insert two.”

with no hesitation, you obey. you insert two of your fingers inside your vagina. your back almost immediately arching because of it. you couldn’t help it. your body felt so good that every touch felt too much.

nanami keeps ahold of your body, close and against his own, even when you almost lose your balance. though, you almost do, you thrust your fingers in and out of yourself. only causing more moans to be released from your lips. as you speed up the motion, and finally find your g spot, you don’t stop.

nanami notices this, and realizes how focused you are on hitting your climax. he uses this to his advantage, and pulls himself away from your body a bit to find your asshole once again. once he does he holds his member in his hand and gently inserts the tip of it.

you stop your fingers for a second, once you feel the new sensation. your body involuntarily pushes back against it; wanting more of the feeling inside.

nanami watched this with a smirk as he lets out a rather loud moan, inserting more of him in you. he feels you body slightly lose its balance again but he of course holds you back up in place; ready to take more in.

he pushes more into you, then more, then finally the last bit of what’s left. when it comes to the last of him, you let out a loud whine, and throw your head back, away from the door. your fingers slowly slide out of your heat right before you can release..

“n…n..nanami please..” you cry out. “i’m so close..”

he doesn’t mean to ignore you, however he does by mistake. with you two fully connected now, he wraps his stable body around yours like before and pulls you close once again. his arms wrapped around your body entirely as you fall back onto him.

“(y/n)..” he breaths out, his head beside your own as he holds on to you for dear life. “i need you to gain a bit of control, can you do that for me sweetheart?”

“please..” he whispers and you nod your head.

you open your eyes slowly, allow for the build up tears of pleasure to finally fall. nanami slowly lets go of your body, and slowly find your balance once again. he backs away from the front door while still connected to you, and gently leads your hand to the foyer table to hold on to.

“hold this and breathe sweetheart, i’ll have us both finished in a few seconds.”

you shiver from his confidence, your body continuing to tremble from the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation from behind.

before you could even get another breath in, your body jumped slightly at the rather large thrust nanami pushed against you. you lose your breath completely and try to find it again once you feel his member leave your hole. but nanami thrust back in again.. then lets it out.. then trust. then again, and again.

you grip onto the table and slowly start to bend over, enjoying the amounts of pain that came with the pleasure of nanami fitting inside of you.

he grips your cheeks as he thrusts over and over, his groans filling the house like a loud broadcasting channel. you thrust back against him, not nearly as hard as him, but hard enough to help him.

“(y/n..), (y/n…)” he lets out in heavy breaths as he continued to thrust.

“honey you feel so good.. i want to feel more.”

“i’m so close sweetheart, im-“ he pauses his speaking and actions, allowing for his member to tremble and twitch inside of you before finally releasing. he lets out a loud moan, along with you, and watches the sight down below.

you let out even more moans, and bring your thighs together to squeeze them, feeling your climax coming back.

he lets go of your cheeks and gently take out his member, allowing for the cum to run out of your hole, onto the floor. and for the rest, that’s on his tip, to wipe along your ass.

you shake your cheeks just slightly after feeling the warm substance on it, and turn your head to see his reaction.

nanami licks his lips at the sight, his eyes still hungry however when he finally locks eyes with you again.

he almost immediately drops his member and goes to cup your cheeks. (on your face.) “i haven’t seen those beautiful brown eyes in so long.” he whispers, his breath still shaky, along with his body.

you smile at his comment, your body turning around to face him, still trembling under his touch as well. “i could say the same about yours..” you breathe out.

“is it my turn?”

the question from you makes his heart flutters entirely, wanting to give you every last bit of him and more.

he gently picks you up and places you gently on the table that you were just gripping on for support. you keep your eyes connected with his own throughout his every move, not caring what he did with your body. you trusted him throughout it all.

he spread your legs and lifted them, placing them on his shoulders so that he could see you fully. his eyes slowly leave your own and trail down your body. he moves a bit of your dress out of the way so that he could see your breasts. he lets his hand now trail the middle of chest, down to your heat. he runs two fingers beside your lips before and brings his hand up to taste the substance you created.

your heat beat grows fast as you watch his every move.. once he put his fingers in his mouth, you couldn’t help but let out a small moan.. simply thinking about his tongue against you now.

he moves his hand down his body and grabs his still hard member, he runs his hand along the length before gently placing it inside.

you thought he was going to place only the tip like he usually did, however he inserted all of it. you kept your eyes connected with his own, though they closed a bit throughout feeling his full length inside of you.

you let out a gasp once all of him was inside, and you let out an even louder gasp once he started to move himself in and out of you.

his hands gently run along your naked legs, as he turns his head to the side and presses a soft kiss along your leg. he lets out a few groan against the skin there, and leans into it. fully enjoying how perfect his size fit inside of your vagina.

after a few more soft movements he slowly starts to speed up, his thrusting growing more rough this time around since he was a bit more stable; and you were less tight.

you legs involuntarily opened wider, and you let out more moans, closer your eyes as he sped up. you bring you hand to lay on your belly, feeling the imprint of him inside of you, then out.. then inside yet again.

“nanami honey.. n..nanami oh..” you mumble out and feel your thighs beginning to close and twitch.

he sees this as well and brings his hands down to hold them fully apart. he grips your thighs and quickens his thrusts inside of you, widening you by the second.

you throw your head back once again, letting out louder moans now. you were close, too close..

“i gonna cum.. b..baby i’m gonna c..cum.” nanami breathed out through his thrusts, your breasts moving in the same fast speed as him.

“me too baby.. tell me when… tell me when.” he breathed, waiting for his call.

he thrusts his quickest and holds it, pulling you in close to his embrace before finally releasing once he felt you did.

you let out a loud moan of his name and released as well, holding him tightly as you trembled still, now more than ever.

you slowly pull away from him and look down at the substances mix. nanami couldn’t help but smile at your quickness to see the sight. he gently takes his member out of you, and cum a bit more of your surface; slapping down his tip a few times just to get a small reaction out of you. like you did earlier with him.

you let out a small moan and watch as the cum slides off the table and onto the floor.

“should we go again, sweetheart?” he asks with a small smirk, pushing his tip along your heat.

fin.

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note: i also didn’t read this over before posting.. it’s just been sitting in my drafts and i wanted to get rid of it. so if there are mistakes, close your eyes and shake your head a few times and they’ll disappear..

also, please let me know if you guys want me to include twitter links so that you can VISUALLY see what i’m writing about! i was going to include them but i wasn’t sure.

let me know some feedback!

thank you.

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l0stglitch · 3 days ago

Note

Omg ik we just got completely broken in the last request but imagine the one day we’re walking around the boardwalk and we see this helpless kitty so we try and help it ofc you forgot to tell your dad so there pissed but they kidnapped you when you were a helpless kitty in there eyes so why can’t you do the same?? sorry if this doesn’t make sense and for bad spelling :,/

History repeats itself

Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader

Notes- Sorry I know this isn’t exactly what you asked but I thought your request would tie perfectly into a part 2 of the last fic/hcs.

Warnings- Depression, Mental illness, Angst(?), Yandere behaviour, Dissociation

Part 1

It had been five weeks since your cruel punishment had ended, and nothing had improved.

David watched you from his wheelchair throne, not even bothering to hide his concern. Marko was sat to your right, an arm slung round your shoulder as he quietly read to you.

It was a quiet evening in the middle of October. You used to love Halloween, but this year David wasn’t even sure you were aware of the approaching holiday.

He so desperately wished you would snap out of this strange state of mind. Even if just to scream at him and call him an awful father- anything was better than this. It was like someone had stolen every part of your mind linked to you and replaced it with a numb, complacent animal.

“Y/n you haven’t left the cave in a while, sweetheart. Why don’t we go to that diner you like in town?”

Your eyes slowly tore themselves from the page and met with David’s. It broke his heart to see how empty they looked. “Ok.”

Marko frowned, “You used to love that place, pumpkin. Not feeling up to burgers tonight?”

Your only response was a small shrug as you shifted your attention back to the book resting in his right hand.

Your two fathers exchanged a worried glance. Marko squeezed your shoulder sympathetically before continuing to read.

David sighed and stood up, “I’ll go let the others know.”

You hadn’t realised in your state of depression, but things had grown tense between your fathers. Dwayne in particular had become noticeably colder towards David.

Said man was cleaning your room for you. A somewhat futile attempt at trying to win you over, David assumed. Either that or he was trying to distract himself from the distressing reality of the situation.

David leant against your doorframe, watching as Dwayne carefully folded your freshly washed clothes.

“You just gonna pretend I’m not here?”

Dwayne finally looked up from his task, “Wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk or just watch me folding our daughter’s clothes.”

David narrowed his eyes at the man before him, but decided not to argue, “We were gonna take the kid to that burger place if you guys wanted to join.” He glanced over at Paul, who was sprawled across your couch with a cigarette.

Dwayne glared back at David, “The kid has a name, David. It’s Y/n.”

He huffed, “Are you coming or not man?”

“Of course I’m coming. She’s my daughter as much as she is yours.” Dwayne shot back, grabbing his leather jacket before striding out the room to go find you.

Paul stood up as well, shooting David a wary glance before brushing past him in pursuit of Dwayne.

David sighed in frustration before following his two partners out the room.

He returned to find Marko helping you into your jacket. You stared off into space passively, allowing him to guide you arms into the sleeves.

David frowned at the sight. You would’ve never let him do that before.

Dwayne cleared his throat, “I’ll take her over to the bikes.” Marko glanced up at him before looking back at you.

“You wanna ride with Dwayne, baby?” His tone was uncharacteristically gentle, as if he was trying not to spook you.

Your only response was a shrug, which he took as a yes, allowing the other man to take your hand and lead you out the cave.

David watched you leave before turning to Marko. “She spoken to you yet?”

The shorter man shrugged uncomfortably, “Not really. She’s like a zombie.”

“Hey man- she’s still our daughter,” Paul interjected with an offended frown.

Marko raised his hands in defense, “I know! That kid means the fucking world to me, but I’m not gonna sit here and pretend something isn’t wrong.”

Paul just scowled at him before turning around and leaving to join you and Dwayne outside.

“Well this is fucking fantastic. Now they’re both pissed off.” David grumbled under his breath.

Marko ignored the statement, “You think she’ll get better?”

David hummed, “She’s a strong kid.”

He frowned at the half answer, “I guess so.”

“Cmon. The others are waiting for us out there.”

Marko didn’t reply as he grabbed the keys to his bike and lead the way out, trying to hide his concern about your deteriorating state.

They hadn’t even left and things had already become tense. This was going to be a long night.

By the time David reached the others, Dwayne had already gotten you sat on the back of his bike, arms wrapped half heartedly around his midsection.

“She ready to go?” David asked, catching Dwayne’s eye.

The other man simply revved his engine and turned his attention over to the space ahead.

David rolled his eyes and mounted his own ride, growing tired of Dwayne’s attitude. Had it been Marko or Paul, he would have already put a stop to it, but Dwayne wasn’t as easy to order around.

Being the oldest meant that whilst he wasn’t as hotheaded and rash as the others, he did stand his ground in arguments. They didn’t occur often, but when they did it affected the whole pack.

Dwayne didn’t wait for David to adjust himself. His bike raced ahead without warning, leaving the others to catch up.

Despite the borderline overwhelming smell of greasy junk food, you couldn’t muster enough energy to eat the meal before you.

A delicate voice in the back of your mind reminded you of your need for food, but no pangs of hunger could overpower the numbness you had felt since David had chained you to the wall.

Dwayne rubbed your knee from under the table and leant in closer so you could hear him properly, “I know you don’t feel hungry baby, but you gotta eat some of it.”

You remained silent, focusing your attention on the bubbles fizzing in your coke.

“How about you try some of the fries?”

Still, no response came from your mouth. All thoughts withered away before your mind was able to comprehend any intelligent idea about the external world around you. You didn’t know if you wanted the fries or not. They tasted good- you knew that, but the taste of what you were eating seemed so much more trivial now.

What was the point in making the effort? They wouldn’t last long anyway. You’d be better off just giving them away to the scrappy kids lingering around the car park.

Dwayne sighed beside you. “Do you know how much it hurts seeing you like this princess? Please just eat the fries for me, Y/n. I don’t wanna lose my baby girl.”

You looked up from the coke and accidentally locked eyes with David. He was watching you with an expectant stare, his icy blue eyes boring into yours.

Normally you would’ve squirmed under the attention, but it no longer affected you the way it used to. “I’m not hungry,” You replied, voice raspy and quiet. It didn’t matter what volume you spoke at- they’d be able to hear every word even if you had whispered.

David sighed, “You haven’t eaten since yesterday. We’re not leaving this diner till you finish those fries.” You shifted your gaze back to your plate as he spoke, “You can’t force me to eat.”

Marko glanced over at you from his seat beside David, “Wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.” Dwayne sharply kicked him under the table, eliciting a hiss of pain. You didn’t react. They definitely could force you to eat if it came down to it, but you knew that all four of them were still walking on eggshells around you. It wouldn’t be worth the risk. Dwayne shot Marko a stern glare before speaking to you, “We’re not gonna force you to do anything baby. If you don’t want the fries that’s ok. We could go get you something else if you want?”

You continued staring meekly down at your full plate of food. This one sided conversation had began to tire you, and you didn’t see the point in answering Dwayne’s constant questions. In the end it didn’t matter- if you didn’t make a decision then they’d make one for you. You were happy to just let them take the reins, allowing you to fall into a state of dissociation.

David made a clicking sound with his tongue and locked eyes with Dwayne, “Can I have a word?”

The brunette hesitated, shooting you another concerned glance before standing up from his chair and moving out of earshot. David was quick to follow.

Dwayne frowned as he walked over, “What do you want, David?”

The man shoved his gloved hands deep into the pockets of his trench coat, “We can’t keep tiptoeing round her like this man.”

“Well what do you suggest?” Dwayne snapped back, “We tried things your way, and look where it fucking got us. Our daughter is practically unresponsive and showing no signs of improvement. All this because you thought that she needed to be isolated for two months.”

David scoffed, “Yeah, well we all know that your ‘gentle parenting’ act is not only complete bullshit, but also fucking ineffective. As for Marko, you think breaking her legs would’ve been any better than this?”

At the mention of his name, Marko glanced up from the food in front of him. Both he and Paul had heard the whole of their argument, but neither had wanted to get involved.

Dwayne shoved David back, his eyes flashing gold momentarily. “This is your fault David! Look what you’ve done- she’s broken.”

David gritted his teeth, suddenly aware of the attention they had gained from the other customers. He lowered his voice and took a step closer to Dwayne, “I can fix this. You don’t.. understand her mind the way I do.”

He glared back at David, “I’ve walked her dreams countless times. I think I know our daughter’s mind well enough.”

The other man just shook his head, almost condescendingly, “No.. not like that. You just don’t get it- you never will. It’s not something that can be learned. It’s instinct.”

“Well your ‘instincts’ to have her chained to a wall for two months seemed a little off.”

David opened his mouth to argue back, but was cut off before he had a chance to speak. “She’s not eating anything guys. We should just, like, take her to the beach or something. Perhaps she needs a little fresh air…” Paul suggested, trying to focus their attention on something else.

David paused, caught off guard by the interruption. Apparently Dwayne hadn’t seen Paul approaching either, because he stayed silent too.

“Yeah I think Paul’s got a point,” Marko added, standing up and nodding towards the other man. He rounded the table and pulled you to your feet, wrapping an arm round your shoulders possessively. “Should we go?” He asked pointedly, his voice bordering on threatening.

David nodded and Dwayne took a step forward as if he wanted to pull you out of Marko’s hold, but then stopped himself and hummed in agreement.

You stared at the grime on the floor- it sort of reminded you of the cave. The hand that rested on your shoulder gave it a squeeze before you were guided outside the diner. Nothing felt real. The voices around you sounded different, and your body felt alien to you. Perhaps you would see a stranger if you looked into a mirror. Perhaps not. Did it even matter anymore? This wasn’t your life. This wasn’t happening.

“She’s completely out of it man,” Paul murmured to Dwayne, eyeing you as they walked towards the bikes. “Our baby’s in there somewhere… she’s gotta be.” Dwayne replied, trying to keep the doubt out of his own voice.

Marko turned around to address the others, “I’m gonna take Y/n on my bike.” Despite him usually being the most reckless driver, nobody argued back. Paul hummed before speaking up, “So we’re still going to the beach, right?” His eyes darted between each of his lovers, searching for confirmation. David nodded in response, “Yeah, unless anyone else has a better idea?”

“Nah man, the beach is fine,” Marko replied as they finally reached the bikes. Mounting his ride, your father turned to help you up, only to find you had disappeared from your previous spot.

He frantically twisted around, “Where the fuck-”

Paul’s barking laugh cut him off, “Chill out dude, she’s right there!” If Marko hadn’t been dead, he was sure his heart would’ve been pounding from within his chest.

��What the hell is she doing?”

That question was a little harder to answer. Whilst your fathers had been talking, you’d found yourself drawn to a small black cat huddled against a nearby fence. The poor thing was shivering against the October wind, its scrappy black fur doing little to protect itself from the weather.

For the first time in months you felt something other than empty detachment. You couldn’t describe the emotion- it felt strange and alien to you, but there was no denying it was there.

This tiny, helpless creature seemed akin to you in every way. Those lost eyes, constantly searching for a meaning, bore into yours with an eery familiarity.

You found yourself unconsciously reaching towards the cat, offering a trembling hand. The frightened animal hesitated before your crouched form. Your voice was hoarse and quiet when you spoke to it, “It’s ok. I can keep you safe.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had subconsciously projected all of your repressed trauma onto this cat. A sudden overwhelming desire to protect and nurture filled you. Instinctively, you picked up the kitten and brought her close to your chest, stroking her soft fur before turning around and staring up at the four men behind you.

Your fathers watched in startled silence as you turned to look at them. Your eyes held more emotion than they had seen in months, and you held each of their gazes with a resolved stare. It was obvious you weren’t going to let go of the cat, David noted, glancing down at the black scrap of fur.

Marko cautiously took a step closer, crouching down to your level. “Hey sweetie.. who’s this?” He asked softly, motioning towards to animal.

For a moment, you stayed silent. How were you going to explain to them that this cat was you? Perhaps not physically, but you were convinced that spiritually you two were the same.

After earning no response, Marko tried again. “Does she have a name?” You nodded slowly, “It’s pumpkin.”

Marko frowned, “But that’s my name for you. Maybe we should call her something else?” You shook your head, “Her name is pumpkin.”

Your father sighed. The name sort of made sense- considering the fact that the cat had remarkably bright orange eyes. It irked him a little though that you had given his pet name for you to a mere animal you had found on the street.

“She’s cold; I need to take her home.” Marko watched as you abruptly stood up and carried Pumpkin back over to the bikes. This sudden change in demeanour was perplexing, but not entirely unwelcome.

You stopped in front of Dwayne, tilting your head expectantly at him. He shifted uncomfortably, “Why don’t you ride with Marko, baby? He’s good with animals.”

Paul sniggered behind him, “You’re not scared, are ya bud?” Dwayne rolled his eyes, “Just don’t want it scratchin’ up my jacket.”

You ignored their banter, bringing Pumpkin over to Marko so that he’d be able to help you up onto his bike. “You sure you wanna keep her?” He asked you quietly, glancing down at the kitten in your arms.

You nodded certainly, eyes sparkling dangerously under the streetlight, entranced by an obsession they recognised all too well.

“She’s mind now. She’s staying with me.”

Tag list- @bella-goths-wife @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @whatispopping69 @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @humbuginmybones

I guess this is my Christmas present to you guys! Sorry it took me so long to post. 😅

#the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x child!reader #platonic #platonic yandere #poly!lost boys x reader #yandere #yandere lost boys

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kookygranger · 1 day ago

Text

Blue Christmas

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Aka Fairytale of Hawkins: Part Three

Summary: The town of Hawkins calls for you once again this Christmas, but with sugar-laced memories of a certain metalhead tainted by a recent breakup your stance on the holiday season has returned in full force.

Warnings: angst with fluff ending (it's a Hallmark Christmas!), casual holiday drinking, exes to smitten, reader and Eddie are in their late 20s/early 30s, swearing

Word count: 6.8k

Author's note: It's been a year since we were all here in this little corner of the world so I would just like to say – whether there were more moments of accomplishments, love, gratitude, euphoria, or just more of the same as these past few years seem to have presented so many of us – I hope you find some form of joy and a moment to breathe at the end of another year, or at least that it comes to you soon. You are not alone in this feeling; we keep on moving.

Part One | Part Two

8 weeks ‘til Christmas

“I’m gonna book my flights tonight, do you want me to do yours too?” The blank stare you give Robin is reciprocated when she looks over at your silence. “The price will just go up if we wait.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Booking flights. For Christmas. To Hawkins.” Your frown deepens with every additional sentence she pushes out. “We talked about this last month.”

“You thought I was serious?”

She shifts her body to face yours on the sofa, tucking her leg in. “When I asked if you were coming you said, oh sure!”

“Robin, it’s called sarcasm. I thought you were fond of the language.”

She frowns back at you, “You’re not coming for Christmas?”

You shake your head, “You can’t be serious.”

“Everybody’s expecting you.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re not.”

“You had so much fun last year–“

“Robin.”

“–Max and El want to go ice skating with you, and Steve’s already making plans–“

“Robin!”

“What?!” She throws her hands in the air, her shoulders meeting her ears.

“Eddie and I broke up.”

She nods once, “I know.”

“Okayyy, so what makes you think I could ever go back to Hawkins?”

“You’re being a little dramatic.”

“I can’t crash your Christmas are you kidding?! I’m the ex-whatever now. I’m the outsider again.”

She rolls her eyes, “Except you’re not. You’re a part of the family. Everyone’s so excited to see you.”

“Uh, I don’t think Eddie is.”

She breathes out a huff, “I think if the two of you saw each other this whole thing would just blow over.”

You tuck your legs towards your chest, focusing back on the TV.

“I’m not having this conversation again. Eddie was very clear about what he wanted. He doesn’t want to see me, and I’m never ever going back to that town. Especially, not for Christmas.”

***

7 days ‘til Christmas – Hawkins, Indiana

“Are you just gonna stand there pouting the whole time or are you gonna join in?”

Robin’s voice snaps your attention from Frank Sinatra crooning from the open window of her parent’s house. You frown, looking down at the string of lights wound around your hands then up at Steve as he balances on the ladder, placing the lights along the gutter and brushing the snow away as he goes.

You peer around the ladder at Robin, holding her own bundle in the warmth of the house. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Try looking a little less like you’re being held against your will.” She shouts through the window.

You’re about to tell her that’s exactly what’s happening, thinking back to a couple of days ago when Steve had shown up out of the blue at your shared apartment, telling you he was going to drive Robin home for the holidays before suggesting you all go out for something to eat before they left. It had taken you 28 minutes to ask where on earth Steve was going, initially distracted by his detailed update of Dustin’s last year of college. You clocked the shifty look he shared with Robin in the front seat at the same time you realised you were about to turn onto the highway.

But Steve interrupts your bitter reminiscing with his own interjection, “Jesus Rob, leave her alone. I don’t see you out here freezing your ass off.”

You thank Steve as Robin rolls her eyes and resumes decorating.

“Anytime. We kidnapped you ‘cause we love you, you know that right?” He looks down in between the gap of his arms with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I know.”

He nods, “It’ll be alright.”

You give him a barely reassuring nod in return, ignoring the stinging at the back of your eyes while Frank sings about glistening treetops like the snow-capped ones lining the suburban street. You sniffle and wipe your nose quickly, hoping Steve thinks it’s just the cold and has nothing to do with how you wish it was his roommate who was comforting you instead, and the pain of knowing he was so close but wouldn’t care anymore.

You focus on unwinding more of the lights as Steve descends the ladder to move it over.

How the hell did you get dragged into this again?

***

I’m twirlin’ a cane made of peppermint

Uh huh (uh huh), uh huh (uh huh)

Nice sticky hands, sticky peppermint

Uh huh (uh huh) uh huh (uh huh)

Spun sugary cloud I’m floatin’ on

The fresh fallen snow melts into the tyre tracks left by traffic along the main street. You watch it through the frosted glass of the diner, one hand cradling the warm mug on the table in front of you.

“Gosh, you’d think they’d give the Christmas songs a break every now and then.”

“I actually kind of like this one.”

Nancy watches you watching the outside world, checking over her shoulder to see if Robin is still occupied in the bathroom before leaning in across the table.

“So, how are you feeling about seeing him? Have you two talked about it yet? Are you both going to be at everything together or are you taking turns? We could totally do something separate if you’re not feeling up to it–we could go shopping, just us two!”

You turn to smile at her, “Jeez Nancy, you should be a reporter or something.”

She shakes her head with a smile, “Sorry. I just know things can feel a little overwhelming coming back to Hawkins with everybody here. I don’t want you to feel left out or uncomfortable or anything.” She glances over her shoulder again, “And Robin kind of seems–“

“She’s not really accepted it, I think. Keeps saying it’ll all blow over.”

“Could it?”

Your attention is caught by a man ringing a gold bell in a Santa suit walking past the window before it falls on Nancy again, with her look of quiet hopefulness. She’s smart, defiant, and effortlessly beautiful. Even in your brief encounters with her, you’ve always been in awe of her strength. You think about Steve and wonder how long it took for the pain of being around her to turn into gentleness again. You think about asking her how you can be strong and vulnerable in love at the same time.

“It just didn’t work out. I’m sure he’ll find someone better for him soon enough. If he hasn’t already.”

“Oh, n–“ Nancy flinches as Robin slaps her hands on the table, before sharing a knowing smile with you at her proclamation.

“I just had the best idea!’

“In the toilet, Rob?” You laugh, “Can’t wait to hear this one.”

She slides into the booth seat next to you, bumping your shoulder gently with hers. “I think we ditch the civilized lunch, go home, get changed and meet back at the bar for a grown-up girl’s night. Whaddya think?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think grown-ups actually call themselves grown-ups.”

“They refer to themselves as adults,” Nancy nods knowingly, “and they pronounce it a-D-ults.”

You turn your head towards Robin, “Plus our last trip to the watering hole in this town didn’t really end well for us.”

“He won’t be there if that’s what you’re worried about. Steve said he works late at the shop on Fridays.”

“Robin.” Nancy’s warning glare is enough to make you feel flushed, but Robin only shrugs dramatically.

“Why does everybody keep looking at me like that?! This is my best friend,” her arm squeezes around your shoulders and you giggle when she pinches your cheeks together, “and I’m always looking out for her, which is why she is here and why we’re getting festively hammered tonight at the Hideout. No boys allowed.”

***

The Hideout is exactly as you remember. All sticky tabletops, dim lighting, and gruff patrons (with the exception of a few young home for the holiday-ers). Robin wastes no time in ordering shots, keeping both you and Nancy on your toes, until you’re very much not.

“I can’t even tell which is stripes and which is…the other one.” Nancy drops her pool cue on the green table. “’M calling Jonathan.”

“I’ll call Steve!” Robin follows her to the payphone on the wall.

“But we can fit one car.” Your slightly slurred voice of reason is waved off by Robin and it’s not long until you’re waving at Jonathan’s retreating car, feeling her head slump against your shoulder, your breath leaving you in clouds.

“I don’t feel good.”

You pat her gently on the head, “Steve will be here soon.”

“No, I really don’t feel good.”

“Are you going to throw up?”

She mumbles something that sounds like a yes into your shoulder and you move swiftly to turn her body away from you and support her off to the side of the bar where there’s shrubbery. She spits a couple of times first and you think it might be a false alarm before she’s vomiting all over the bushes.

“Okay, there we go.” You pat her on the back, holding her hair away from her face.

There’s a slam of a car door echoing across the small carpark that makes you turn your head, hoping it’s Steve. When you hear another one followed by girlish giggling your attention turns back to Robin, finally starting to shiver from the cold as the alcohol begins wearing off.

“C’mon Steve.” You mutter.

The hand that’s rubbing circles on Robin’s back freezes when you hear a familiar voice cut through the giggling behind you.

“And then the car just sprays the hell out of him with oil.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You glance over your shoulder with a hammering heart; one that feels like it drops to your stomach when you see those familiar curls and his dimpled smile when the pretty girl he’s with reacts to his story. The girl who has her hand tightly clasped around his leather jacket as they walk across the close-to-icy pavement. Your head snaps back around when they get closer, and you’re thankful for the poor lighting keeping you mostly hidden until Robin’s hacking up sick again.

“Gross.”

Your eyes screw shut at her words, your body stilling until you hear the front door of the Hideout close behind them both. You’re saved moments later when Steve pulls up right beside you.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve helps you get Robin standing upright again, grimacing at the way her head lolls as you both shuffle her into the passenger seat.

“Pretty sure it was the decision to switch to spiked egg nog to keep the “debauchery festive” that did it.” You sigh, then smirk at Steve’s perplexed look, hands on hips and head shaking. “Just remember you’re moving in with that.”

He winces, “Yeah, you forget the intensity of Robin when you’re not around it that often.”

“You two are going to have so much fun.”

Steve looks at you, eyebrows raising, “I thought it was us three? You change your mind?”

You shrug, biting your lip as he watches you with confusion, “I don’t really know anymore.”

He just nods slowly then, “Okay, that’s–okay. I wasn’t gonna start looking at places until the New Year, so you have a bit of time to decide. We can talk about it later.”

There’s a momentary silence that’s interrupted by Robin mumbling something about getting fries.

“No, we’re going straight home.” Steve shuts the passenger door and squeezes you on the shoulder before walking around to the driver’s seat. You look back at the bar, expecting to see him walk through the door with a cigarette prepared in between his lips, but you quickly get into the car before you get caught.

***

6 days ‘til Christmas

The screaming kid being dragged down the aisle away from the candy does nothing to soothe the headache you’re currently enduring. Nor does the slightly flickering and dim fluorescent lights of the small grocery store, as you struggle to make a decision in front of the potato chips.

You hadn’t slept much, despite your heavy limbs and swimming head when you slipped under the covers on the sofa bed. You couldn’t get the image of him smiling at another girl off your mind.

It had only been a couple of months did he move on that quickly?

Did he know her while you were together? Was she just waiting in the wings? Did something happen between them while you were–no, Eddie wouldn’t do that. But maybe developing feelings for someone else was the catalyst for him breaking it off. God, she was pretty.

Needless to say, your brain is a little fried from the tossing and turning and struggling to make a decision about snack foods. It even takes a moment to register the questioning call of your name behind you.

You turn around.

“I thought that was you darlin’. What a surprise.”

You smile, taking in the worn flannel and pristine trucker’s cap of the older man in front of you.

“Hi, Wayne.”

He embraces you briefly, the scent of a familiar brand of cigarettes stirring a pang in your chest.

“Ed never told me you were coming back for Christmas.”

“Oh, well I didn’t know until about two days ago myself. I’m not sure if he did either.”

“Robin wear you down, did she?”

“Kind of.” You offer him a small smile.

Wayne rubs the grey stubble on his jaw. “You’re welcome to come over again on Christmas day. Whatever happened between you two, you’re always welcome.”

You frown, “That’s really sweet Wayne, but I don’t think he–“

“Hey old man, you want the creamed corn or the regular–“

You make eye contact at the same time. Eddie walks down the small aisle holding up his options, his sneakers squeak when he comes to an abrupt stop.

“Shit. I mean–hi.” He shakes his head quickly.

Wayne crosses his arms, “Christ son, what kind of greeting is that to a lady.”

You burn under the attention of the two, the situation not what you had anticipated when you entered the store. Damn small towns. You didn’t get a good look at him last night, but he looks well. His hair is freshly washed and a little shorter than the last time you’d seen him. He must’ve gotten that trim he kept putting off. But there’s no dimpled smile. Just a look of uncomfortable shock.

“Um, I should get back to Robin,” you hold up the basket in your hands full of sugary hangover food and boxes of Kraft mac and cheese, “she’s feeling a little rough this morning.”

“You two been celebratin’ early?” Wayne smiles.

“Uh,” your gaze flickers to Eddie briefly, “just went to the bar for a few drinks last night, which Robin couldn’t exactly keep down.” You see the realisation hit him in real time, his brows creasing before his eyes widen, turning your attention back to Wayne as he chuckles.

“Well, you better get home quick then.”

“I will. Have a Merry Christmas Wayne.” You hope he doesn’t take offence to the almost grimacing smile you give him, but you can’t muster up anything better given the situation. “See you later, Eddie.” You turn without another glance at him, feeling embarrassment wash over you when you hear a light thump and Wayne’s grumble at Eddie’s complaint.

“Ow.”

“You better get your tongue untwisted next time, son.”

***

He watches the windows of his van frost over quickly after he cuts the engine and the warm air off. They said to expect heavy snow any day now, continuing into the new year. Eddie can’t move his hands away from the steering wheel.

He thought this would be the first time you’d see each other when everyone gathered at the Buckley’s for a Christmas movie night to kick off the festivities. He’d been preparing himself for this moment, even going as far as washing his hair this morning, which he was kind of thankful for given he’d run into you at the grocery store earlier.

You stole his words from him.

Not that you were wearing anything particularly flattering, he’s sure you actually had pyjamas on under your thick coat, in fact you looked a little tired. But, fuck. You always looked beautiful.

And Eddie wasn’t expecting to see you yet, especially not last night at the Hideout. He shakes his head, of course you saw that. He’s sure if there’s some higher power out there controlling his ill-fated life they had a good chuckle about that shining moment.

This was where you were supposed to be reunited, in a controlled environment around friends flowing with the holiday spirit – just like last time. He was going to find a quiet moment to talk to you, to apologise, to explain his cowardice.

Now he couldn’t work up the courage to leave the van.

It’s the banging on the window next to him that startles him out of his trance.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

Despite the teasing, he can’t help but smile at the smirking, still youthful but grown faces of his younger D&D cohort.

“I bet he’s crying to a sad pop song.” Dustin nudges in beside Mike, the window framing them along with Will and Lucas as they all push up against the glass, the condensation not enough to hide their taunting looks.

The door creaks as he opens it, pushing the group away with a wave of his hand and a faux snarl. “Get inside, you little Gremlins.”

He’ll never tire of hearing their collective laughter, even if it’s at his own expense.

He follows the kids up the icy path to the house, ending up in a half-hearted wrestle with Dustin when he asks if it was Joni Mitchell he was listening to. He’s choking out a rendition of River when they tumble through the door with Dustin in a headlock under Eddie’s surprisingly firm biceps.

Your eyes are wide when they stop right in front of you.

“Can I take your jackets?”

Eddie straightens up quickly, his face flushed while the colour quickly drains from Dustin as his air supply returns.

“Uh, sure.”

You hang everyone’s coats up on the hooks in the hallway, and Eddie swears there’s a zap when your fingers brush his as he hands off his leather jacket. You’re wearing a cute Christmas sweater. Not one of those garish over the top ones, just a simple forest green and white knitted thing that makes you look cosy and makes him miss the feeling of your arms wrapped around him. You join the others in the living room off to the side of the hall without another word, leaving him standing there with his party.

“Well that was weirdly formal.” Lucas pats him on the back as he brushes past and the others follow his lead. Eddie sighs, wanting to just turn on his heel and bolt, but more determined to talk to you and encourage you to start looking him in the eyes again.

You’re separated from him by the group crammed into Robin’s parent’s living room. Bodies spread out across couches and cushions scattered on the floor, some innocent cuddling and even more innocent squabbling. You’re only a few metres away across the other side of the room, but it feels like you’re unreachable to Eddie. He still manages to steal glances at you, laughing along to the conversations, your pretty face lit up by the Christmas tree and the company.

After what feels like hours, he finally gets his moment near the end of the film, his attention drawn to you in the dark as you stand up and make your way to the kitchen alone.

He waits a minute, praying nobody else decides to join you, before rising slowly from his seat nonchalantly walking in the same direction.

He finds you at the sink with a glass of water, looking out the window at the Buckley’s backyard.

“They say it’ll probably snow overnight.”

You jump at his voice, the water in your glass spilling over onto your hand.

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie holds out his hands as if trying to calm a wild animal when you turn around.

“It’s okay, I was just…somewhere else.” You give him a weak smile, drying your hands on a nearby tea towel. He steps a little closer to you when it looks like you’re going to move away.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but I wanted to clear the air about last night first.”

“We don’t have to talk about anything.” You shrug, still not catching his eye. “It’s not any of my business.”

His chest puffs up under his maroon sweater (the one you like) before he sighs, “She’s the receptionist at the shop. She keeps pestering me to get after work drinks with her.” He scrambles to get to the point when he notices you step towards the door, “She won’t get the hint every time I say no, and she stayed late last night just so I wouldn’t have an excuse. I was just tryna’ get it over with. Show her that we probably have nothing in common and let her down nicely I guess.”

“Eddie, you don’t owe me an explanation just because I saw you.” You smile, finally looking up at him and he hates the insincerity of it, the clouded over eyes that look straight through him. “You can see whoever you want, it’s none of my business.”

He shakes his head, reaching out to you, “I’m not seeing anybody, of course I’m not sweet girl–“ That gets a reaction out of you, and the anger, the lowering of your walls gets Eddie’s heart racing.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You’re looking at him now, really looking at him, eyebrows pinched in indignation.

“I want to apologise.”

3 months ago

He felt it coming from a mile off. The way you had an excuse every time you were supposed to come down to Hawkins. The way you switched subjects on the phone whenever he brought up future plans, concerts happening next year, a pay rise that meant he could afford a decent place when Steve inevitably moved out. No matter what everyone would say about his intelligence, Eddie Munson could read the writing on the wall.

So, when you finally caught up after weeks of dodged calls and visits, he had his mind set. Get out before he was pushed out. Be the breaker not the broken.

“So, Robin and Steve moving to Indy huh?

“Mhm.” He hums in reply as you try to stir up conversation from the kitchen. There’d been an awkward silence ever since he’d walked through the door of your apartment. You watch him sitting on the edge of your couch, a dark cloud hanging over him you were trying to shoo away.

“Didn’t think them being separated would last much longer,” you breathe out a laugh through your nose and he only nods, still distant. Your hands are clammy with nerves, a slight shake to your voice he doesn’t seem to notice. “You know actually, my lease is up next month, I was thinking of moving in with Robin for a while.”

“Your place is nicer.”

You tip your head back and forth, “Yeah, but she has an extra room since her roommate moved out.”

“What are you gonna do when she goes?” His leg starts to bounce, and it’s like his mouth is moving but his mind is elsewhere.

“It’s not until next year…I was thinking maybe, well not maybe, I was just thinking that I would–“

“This isn’t working, right?” His head snaps up and it takes you a moment to answer him under his furrowed gaze.

“It’s…what?”

“I mean, I’m exhausted from all the travelling back and forth and I know you are. Why the hell would you wanna spend your weekends in Hawkins?”

You take a deep breath, “Well, I wanted to talk to you about that–”

“Great let's talk. You can’t keep coming to Hawkins.”

“I–“

“And hell, it’s not exactly like I would move here.”

Oh.

He wouldn’t do the same for you.

“Wayne’s only getting older, and Steve well he’s gonna move to Indy but it’s still close, and Robin will be there, and the kids when they come home. And I can’t just quit my job, you know I’ve got a good steady thing going, and of course you can’t so you know…where does that leave us?”

It leaves you with moving with Robin to Indianapolis. Saying fuck it to your job because you can always find another one. It leaves you with moving in with Eddie because he can find work and still be close to Wayne.

At least, you thought it did, but now…now you feel like a fool in love. Rushing into something unreciprocated, because it hadn’t even been a year, why would he be willing to move away from everything familiar for you?

“Right.”

He sighs, rubbing his face before standing up and walking over to you. “Sweetheart I just don’t see how this can work anymore.”

You try to swallow the dryness in your throat away, “Right.”

“I don’t know how to…” he shakes his head and looks to the door, “Should I go?”

“If you want to.”

“Fuck.” He rubs his face harshly, “I’m sorry. I’ll just go.” He starts to walk away, pivoting quickly to give you a barely there peck on your temple then walking straight out the door with a slam that makes you flinch.

You’re left standing there, shocked into immobility. That wasn’t how you thought that conversation was going to go, but maybe you should have prepared for that. This is what happens when you leave yourself vulnerable.

You wish he’d left a more lasting kiss where you could feel the imprint of it.

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I should’ve called you and properly talked. With you and not at you. I’m so sorry. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”

“That’s nice.”

“Sweet–“ he corrects himself and with a breath says your name instead, “I want to apologise.”

You shrug, eyes glazing over again. “It’s whatever Eddie. Maybe I should thank you for having the guts to rip the band-aid off. To say how you felt before–before I made an idiot of myself.”

He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just move on and have a good Christmas with everyone.”

Eddie’s shoulders deflate as you walk out of the kitchen.

Maybe his fuck up was truly irreparable this time.

***

Three days ‘til Christmas

The day after movie night had been a girl’s day. Ice skating with El and Max in the centre of town, a light dusting of snow catching on your tongues as you giggled and listened to them gush about their independent lives away from home and the ever-present homesickness this time of year, even when they were with their families. Nancy had met you all after, driving you to the mall for some last-minute Christmas shopping. You’d pulled Dustin’s name for Secret Santa this year and found him some albums on cassette you’d thought he like based on what Eddie had told you he’d enjoyed of his musical teachings.

You waited up for Robin later, who’d spent the day with Steve and Eddie.

The next day, there had been a gingerbread house making competition at the Byers residence. Joyce, her two sons, El, Hopper, Robin, Mike and Steve were all there fighting over the best candy decorations and cheering over the collapse of each other’s creations. The rest were with Eddie at the mall.

Nobody had mentioned it explicitly, but it was clear that everyone was working around the issue of you and the boisterous metalhead by taking it in turns and whispering about who’d be where when. And so it was, that most of your week in Hawkins had gone by without seeing Eddie, except for the run-ins at the Hideout and the grocery store and the awkward conversation at movie night.

You were worried you were bringing the mood down. You’d tried to be comfortable around him for everyone else’s sake, but you mustn’t have been hiding your emotions very well.

So, you’d excused yourself from today’s activities – Christmas tree chopping and decorating at Steve and Eddie’s apartment – feigning a scratchy throat and headache that could only be cured by staying in and resting.

You’d actually ended up leaving the house to find the cute bookstore in town in search of something to keep you company. You’d browsed for over an hour, the comforting smell of the fresh pages of paper, the occasional jingle of the bell above the door as shoppers flowed through the store and the quiet hum of Christmas songs from the radio on the counter all enveloping you in this space of temporary peace.

By the time you leave the store, paper bag weighing one arm down as you button up your coat again, the snow that had been threatening to fall for days had well and truly blanketed the town.

“Oh.” Your voice is carried off in the wind, with the snow that’s falling down sideways. The streets are significantly quieter, the sky darker and the pavements covered.

You’d walked into town from the Buckley’s. It wasn’t particularly far but it seemed like miles in these conditions. You turn around, briefly considering calling someone from inside the store, when the shop owner flips over the sign to closed. Giving you an oblivious wave and smile which you return.

Walking it is then.

***

“I’m an idiot for thinking I could just cut and run. I hate not being able to talk to her. She’s angry, and she deserves to be, but she won’t even let me see that. I just want her to talk to me, be angry at me, yell at me. She’s not her when she’s around me anymore and it kills me. I just–I just want…I don’t know.”

Steve munches on popcorn from the bowl in front of him, while he waits for the fresh batch to stop popping in the microwave. Eddie is holding a bowl of cranberries, slumped against the kitchen table, laughter spilling through from the other room.

“Sounds like you want her back.”

“Not just that,” he shakes his head, “I still think she deserves better I just wish we could still be in each other’s lives.”

Steve crosses his arms, truly ugly Christmas sweater bunched up by his elbows. “What do you mean she deserves better?”

“I couldn’t be there for her most the time. Our relationship was over the phone, I couldn’t hold her back anymore. I spent half my life dreaming of leaving this stupid town and now I’m too chicken shit to do it. She should be with someone in her league you know. At least someone who lives in the same damn city.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Steve waves his hand around. “Are you telling me you broke up with her because of the distance?”

Eddie looks at him and shrugs, “Yeah. You knew that.”

“No, I didn’t. Anytime I tried to talk to you about it you just kept saying it didn’t work out.” He imitates a deeper, grumpy voice.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Whatever, man. What difference does it make?”

Steve scoffs, “Indy’s like an hour and a half away, you couldn’t just hang on ‘til she moved?”

“She…what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Eddie!” Robin rushes into the kitchen, causing him to straighten up with the look of panic on her face. “You need to find her.”

***

Cold. Cold. Cold.

Never has anybody been this cold in the history of life itself. Cold doesn’t even begin to touch what you’re currently feeling – or not feeling, like your fingers. How long does it take to get frostbite?

You thought you were closer to the Buckley’s, but now all the snow-covered suburban houses looked the same. It didn’t help that all you could think about was the cold! Practically wading through the thick snow as it continued to pelt you side on, your feet burning with blisters or chilblains, you weren’t sure.

Cold. Cold. Cold.

The tyres slip a little as Eddie pulls quickly to the side of the road, easily being able to make out your form despite the blizzard-like conditions camouflaging everything. You were wearing that pink beret you looked adorable in.

He leaves the engine running as he jumps out, almost slipping on a patch of ice when he grabs you by the arms. He has to yell over the wind, your body trembling underneath his gloved hands, not even able to speak.

Eddie gently maneuvers you back to the van, helping you up into the passenger seat. He blasts the heat even more once he’s behind the steering wheel, reaching behind him and procuring a blanket which he tucks around you, rubbing your arms for good measure.

“Just sit tight sweetheart, I’ll get you home.”

He peels off slowly from the curb, wipers screeching in complaint against the window as he struggles with visibility.

“It’s l-like we’re d-d-destined to repeat this scene ovver again. You evver see the movie g-groundhog day?”

His head snaps to you and he smiles, happy to hear your voice.

“I’ll always be there to find you in the snow.”

“It’s probably best I just stop coming all together.” You’ve thawed enough to stop chattering now, shifting to tuck yourself further into the blanket.

He frowns, “Don’t say that. Everyone wants you here.”

“I’m just making it harder for you to be with your friends.”

He shakes his head, eyes flicking between you and the road. “That’s not true.”

“Then why is everyone trying to keep us apart?”

“I think they were just trying to help you feel comfortable sweetheart.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I wasn’t here?”

Eddie looks at you in disbelief, before the van lurches and his attention pulls back in front of him.

“Shit, shit, shit.” The engine stutters as he rolls to the side of the road and cranks the handbrake.

“What’s going on?”

He sighs, “We’re out of gas.”

“What?!” You lean over the middle, peering at the dashboard and the blinking red light. “How can you be out of gas?”

“Because I was supposed to fill up the next time I went out and I’ve been driving around looking for you!” You shrink back into your seat. “Sorry, it’s not your fault.”

“I know it isn’t. What grown man leaves it until the light comes on.” A smirk pulls at his lips which grows even wider when he catches you mirroring him.

“This idiot.” He points two thumbs at himself.

“Should we find a payphone to call a tow truck?” You peer out the window, unable to make out much of your surroundings.

Eddie groans and hits his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.

“What?”

“I’m the one on call tonight,” he mumbles.

“Oh. You probably should’ve just brought the truck then.”

“Yep,” he leans back in the seat, rolling his head to look at you. “I wasn’t really thinking things through. You scared me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, and he offers you a small smile. “How did you know I was out here anyway?”

“Robin called her parent’s house to check in on you. Her dad said you’d gone out for a walk, but you hadn’t come back since the snow started.”

“Right. Thank you for finding me.”

He shrugs, “Like I said. I always will.”

You watch each other for a moment and Eddie’s eyes drop to your lips making a shiver run through your body.

It breaks him from his trance, “Sweetheart, we need to stay warm.” He looks over his shoulder at the back of the van, unbuckling his seatbelt and squeezing between the gap in seats. “C’mon.”

You follow him unquestioningly and he helps you with a hand on your arm. He notices the look on your face when he brings out another blanket and some pillows from a picnic basket among a small mess of boxes and junk he’d thrown back here without thought.

“They’re still in here from that time we went to Lover’s Lake. Haven’t used them since, obviously.” You offer a nod, taking the pillows and arranging them next to each other. Eddie throws the other blanket over the both of you, “Uh, we’re gonna have to get kind of close to–to stay warm.”

“Okay.”

He opens an arm out, waiting for you to slot in and pulling you both down to the floor. You breathe in his scent, a musky cigarette and peppermint enveloping you. Pure, Eddie. You’re both quiet for a while, the steady drum of his heartbeat against your ear. He sighs, and his breath shifts your hair a little, followed by his hand when he notices something.

“You’re wearing the earrings.” His hushed voice vibrating in your head makes you close your eyes.

“I love them,” you whisper back. “They make me feel a little less alone, which doesn’t make sense I know.” You feel Eddie’s lips press against your hair.

“I’m sorry sweet girl. I made a huge mistake.” Your arms squeeze him tighter, and his hand strokes the side of your face.

Eddie begins humming a tune, featherlight at first but the vibrations from his chest warm you up further.

“It was Christmas Eve, babe

In the drunk tank

An old man said to me, “Won’t see another one”

And then he sang a song

“The Rare Old Mountain Dew”

I turned my face away

And dreamed about you”

“Don’t make me sing the duet. You know I can’t sing.” You feel his smile against the side of your head.

“Then just whisper it back.”

You sigh, “You were handsome.”

“You were pretty, Queen of New York City. When the band finished playing, they howled out for more.”

After a while Steve eventually found you. Pulling up in his new truck and bursting the bubble with a loud honk. He took you both back to the apartment where everyone fussed over you, bringing hot chocolate and a hot water bottle as they finished off decorating the tree. After Eddie placed the star on top, he led you to his bedroom to find dry clothes.

You turned his gaze back to you when you undressed, kissing him once he helped you into one of his t-shirts; his Slayer one he so loved to see you in. You swayed back and forth for a moment before returning to the mayhem, the snow still falling heavily outside the window.

“Merry Christmas, sweet girl.”

He kissed your eyelids.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

***

Christmas Eve

You’d actually fallen ill after that night, the snow-soaked clothes and below zero conditions culminating in a cough and a sore body. Eddie kept you in his bed and brought you cups of tea and soup.

Steve filled in for him when he went to tow his own van, and you threw a pillow at him when he said, “Aren’t you glad we dragged you down here now?”

By Christmas Eve you were feeling a little better, able to join in on the Secret Santa shenanigans, tucked under Eddie’s arm on the sofa. Dustin loved his tapes and gave you an awkward pat on the knee in lieu of a hug that could transfer germs. “I can’t afford the time off from school!”

You’re watching everyone’s interactions with each other, showing off presents, sharing stories, when Eddie untucks a red envelope from his back pocket.

“Merry Christmas.”

You beam at him, opening the card. Something falls into your lap. You pick up newspaper clippings with a confused furrow of your brow Eddie wants to kiss away.

They’re listings, for apartments in Indianapolis.

“Thought I’d beat Steve and Robin and steal you for myself. What do you think, roomie?”

You kiss him in response, leaning away when neither of you can keep your smiles from growing.

“Oh, I left your gifts at Robin’s.”

Eddie tilts his head, “You got me something?”

“Just some things I came across and put aside throughout the year. A couple of records, and this book I think you’ll like, and a new notebook ‘cause you’re always losing pages out of that black one.”

“You brought them with you?”

You shrug, “Yeah, well I figured I could just leave it under your tree and you’d think someone else got them.”

“I’d know it was you.” He smiles.

“Probably.”

He presses a kiss to your jaw, a bright flash distracting you behind your eyelids.

“Got ya.” Robin snatches the Polaroid from the camera’s slit, shaking it a couple of times before handing it to you with a wink.

It’s the perfect moment of contentment. Sharing a blanket on the sofa, eyes closed in peace, framed by the Christmas lights hanging on the wall.

It’s the first photo to be pinned on your fridge in your shared home.

Tagging: @bettyfrommars, @storiesbyrhi, @allthingsjoeq, and from last year @eddieslooneymoonie, @micheledawn1975 and @skrzydlak just in case x

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #towtruck!eddie #stranger things au

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monstrousvoice · 3 days ago

Text

A Chance

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Relationship: Toshinori Yagi/All Might X Female Reader

AN: With my love of BNHA coming back, so too does my undying love for Toshi rise from the depths to inconvenience everyone who tries to have a conversation with me lasting longer than 5 minutes. This drabble was inspired by the following mood board as part of a challenge prompt in the discord server I’m in!

Tags: Fluff, Knight!Toshinori, References to past sexy times but nothing explicit

Summary: You are given the chance to pursue your own happiness with the one you love.

Read it on AO3!

“It really is unconventional my dear.” Your mother clucked her tongue at you before blowing on her steaming tea and taking a careful sip. You took a deep breath to keep your composure. It took nearly all your courage just to speak the words you had been sitting on for months at this point, and you had been prepared for a far harsher response. You gently swirled your spoon in your own tea cup, watching as the sugar cube melted away. You hated this blend, but it was Mother’s favorite and you needed any help to get her in a good mood.

Your father says nothing, simply watching you with a stoic expression. His tea cup sits full and untouched.

“I am…aware, of how odd it is-” Mother scoffs at your words.

“If you are so aware, why even entertain the idea? Honestly child.” She rolls her eyes at you. You bite your tongue, and take another deep breath.

“I simply think after all he’s done for us, for me, that he would be a good choice,” Another scoff. “And that he would…” make me happy, you want to say but don’t. Mother didn’t care about things like happiness in marriage. Marriage was a tool in a royal’s arsenal, like anything else.

“Oh yes, everything he’s done for us, and every neighboring kingdom from here to the coast! The man has no loyalty! He would sooner give up the crown to an invader than fight them! He has too many ties to too many people.”

“That isn’t true!” Mother narrows her eyes at your raised voice. You stiffen and look to your lap in a show of submission. “I-I am sorry. I just…”

“It is a foolish idea.” Mother takes another sip of her tea, opening her mouth to further admonish you for your proposal, but your father speaks.

“I disagree.” He rumbles. Mother closes her mouth with a sharp ‘click’. Your father may be content to let her rule the castle, the staff, and you as she sees fit, but every once in a small while he steps in. Those few times are almost enough to convince you he may care for you in some way.

“Father?” You prompt.

“He was born here. He trained here under my own father’s best knights. He has helped our neighbors as his warrior spirit demanded, but never to our detriment. Now that he can no longer fight the same way, why not reward him for his servitude?” Father blinks passively at Mother, the wisdom of many years of leadership in his eyes. Mother looks at him in shock, her own protests sounding weak now that she doesn’t have his support.

“Bu-I-! He is-! Why, he is too old now my lord husband! He-”

“He is as old as I am, and that brings wisdom and experience.”

“Wh-what of heirs!? He could never-with our daughter-!”

“Men older than us both have produced children before. It will be fine.”

Mother looks like she wants to protest further still, but you don’t pay her stuttered words any more mind. You stare at your father, a man you have spent most of your life fearing in some capacity. Fear of failure and disappointment, fear of losing him and leaving your home in disarray with no king to lead them.

Fear of being married off to some horrible man that would decide your fate, who would crush and break you under the weight of unwanted motherhood and wifely duties you would have no choice but to complete. Of one day suffering the quiet shame of having a husband who brings strangers to bed, of being an object meant to look pretty and nothing more.

And within this moment you dare hope that your life will not be as sad and grey.

Father looks at you and nods his head. You stand, your fingers twitching with the effort to hold back your excitement. Never before have you so badly wanted to hug Father, but you refrain. It would be improper, Mother has always said. You bow low instead to show your gratitude.

“Th-thank you Father. Mother. I must-...I need to step out for a moment, please excuse me.” And with that you rush out the door to the private study and nearly collapse against the stone wall opposite you. The cool, rough texture against your palms and catching the fabric of your gown helps ground you.

This is real.

You can-you can marry the man you love. Bring him into a life of luxury and happiness you’ve wanted to give him for so long-

The click of the door behind you opening and closing echoes in your pounding head. With hazy eyes you look to see Father standing behind you, proud and tall as ever. He is smiling softly at you, a gentleness you didn’t think he possessed. It's an odd but not unpleasant expression to see on his face.

“I…” He starts, lifting a hand into the air and holding it there, fingers pinched. With a sigh he drops his hand back to his side, looking to the floor.

“With age comes wisdom.” He begins. “I regret many things when it comes to how you were raised.” You blink in shock at his words. You can see in his face…a quiet longing you hadn’t noticed before. It makes something in your heart squeeze.

“I wish…I wish I had been…” He sighs, his shoulders slumping as he looks to you. “I had you trained and molded to take charge of the kingdom after my passing, consort or no. I made sure you knew every battle tactic, every political game, every form of self defense I could cram into you to make sure you could be safe. I just wish I could have taken the time to…let you be you. To be my daughter, not just my heir. I wish I could have gotten to know you.”

The back of your eyes burn. You swallow and blink. You cannot show such clear emotion, not to anyone.

Well…to one person and one person only.

That person is not Father.

“I married your mother because of the things she could teach you, the benefits she brought to our home.” Father steps closer to you. His arms lift, as if to reach for you. He freezes, hands shaking before he forces them down to his sides again. “I wish to give you a chance to be happy. If only in some small way. A way I never got to experience. Go to him, and you will be happy with him, I’m sure.”

Father has taken time out of his day to meet with you, to hear your proposal. He agreed to your proposal and gave you his blessing for the man you chose. He is standing before you and restraining himself from giving you a hug.

You take the final step to close the distance between you both, and your stiff arms wrap around his even stiffer form. You feel his hands slowly and carefully come to your back and rest there.

It is awkward and stiff and slightly uncomfortable.

It is the first hug you’ve ever received from Father.

You will cherish its memory for the rest of your life. He has made you happier on this day than you have ever felt.

Well, perhaps not happier than the day you met your fearsome and brave knight. It is close, however.

“Thank you Father. If it is acceptable, I wish to go see him.” Father’s arms drop from you as you step back, and he nods his head. You turn and rush down the hall.

~~~~~~~

You ignore the whispers that trail after you as you hunt through the castle hallways.

“Ah, her royal highness the cold fish. Wonder what has her in such a hurry.”

“Her highness is moving rather fast, do you think something’s happened? She’s normally so stoic and cold.”

“Just like her father, that one. Unfeeling and scary.”

Their words sting, but you hold your head high. You had thought you had been getting better at interacting with the staff, but apparently not if they still gossip in such ways about you. Your knight had been trying to help you be more approachable and open to others, considering he shined with charm and charisma like a beacon, but apparently you needed more work.

It didn't matter right now, in any case. You have more important news to share with him.

A tall figure, a flash of blonde, catches your eye down the corridor. You race after it and round the corner to see your knight and his young charge walking away.

“Toshinori!” You call, and the two figures freeze, turning to look back at you. You rush closer, breathless and excited. Neither of them are in their full set of armor, only wearing the thickly padded tunic that has your kingdom's blazon proudly on display. You take a moment to admire the way your knight’s cloak drapes over his broad shoulders.

He may not be as strong as he was when younger, but that thin, tall frame holds strength and resilience you can't help but love.

“G-good morning to you both. I apologize for the interruption-” You start, nodding at Izuku who stares up at you with shining eyes. Toshinori straightens up, his smile professional and calm as he addresses you.

“No trouble at all, your highness.” He bows low to you, and for a moment his hand twitches as if to reach for you, but he forces it still. Izuku jolts as if shocked, quickly blowing low as well with a muttered ‘good morning’ of his own. He's still learning proper protocol, Toshinori had told you. The boy shows great promise as a knight and you know Toshinori is more proud of this boy than he is about any other accomplishment he has in his long career.

“If I may, Ser Knight, I would like to speak to you about something…” Your eyes dart to the boy at his side. “Urgent.” Toshinori catches on, his eyebrows raising in surprise and slight concern before he turns to his student.

“Young Midoriya, make your way to the stables and complete your usual duties. I will find you later.” Toshinori smiles at the boy with a tenderness that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. The urge to kiss the laugh lines on his cheeks is nearly overwhelming, and you barely stop yourself from doing so. You need to talk to him first.

Izuku hurries down the hallway with an eager stride, no doubt wanting to impress his teacher when they meet back up. With your own barely restrained enthusiasm you grab Toshinori's hand in your own and drag him to the closest private spot you know of. He stumbles for a moment as you pull him, letting out a choked noise of surprise. You can feel calluses from years of hard labor under the pads of your fingers, rough skin and scars that make your heart flutter with excitement. You've had those hands on you so many times, and now you know for certain you can feel them again for the rest of your life.

If he wants such a thing, that is.

“Y-your highness-! What is-” You ignore his questions, making a beeline for the nearest hidden alcove you can think of. It's a hidden spot right outside the entrance to the gardens, one you and Toshinori are very familiar with. Memories of his fingers, long and thick as they brought you to completion over and over while pressed against his chest flash through your mind as you pull him closer. It seems the same thoughts are on his mind as well, judging by the growing pink blush spreading over the bridge of his nose.

The sunlight bleeds through the leaves of the many trees planted, flowering blooms bright and colorful as fat bees buzz to and fro across them to collect nectar. A slight breeze picks up and you watch, mesmerized, as the golden hair of your knight seems to shine as it’s ruffled.

To think, you’ll be able to see him like this everyday for the rest of your life…if he accepts that is.

His voice startles you despite it being a whisper.

“My love, what is wrong? Did something happen…?” Despite the concern you see in his eyes, his mouth pulls up in a shy smile. “Or were you looking to…” One of his hands cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone in such a tender way it makes your very soul ache. Your eyes flutter shut as you turn into his palm, pressing a kiss against the rough skin. His blush deepens.

“I am flattered darling but is this really what you would consider ‘urgent’? You had me worried for a moment!” He chuckles, a deep soothing sound that sends shivers down your spine. You squeeze your thighs closed at the sudden rush of heat you feel at the sound. You manage to find your voice and speak.

“N-not entirely, beloved…” Your voice comes out as soft as his, a whisper to be carried away on the wind. Toshinori pulls you closer, his free arm wrapping around your waist to settle on the small of your back, his long fingers spreading to grip the meat of your ass. You squeak at the feeling, your hips pushing closer to his where you can feel his cock hardening under his tunic. He hums in interest at your words as he buries his nose into your hair.

“I was speaking with-...with Mother and Father today-” You feel him stiffen against you, and not because of arousal. He pulls back to look you in the eye, but his arms stay wrapped snugly around you. Toshinori’s brow is furrowed with concern as he looks at you.

“Are you alright? I know talks with Her Majesty can be…difficult for you. Is that why you came to me?” His eyes widened in panic. “A-and here I am trying to-! I am sorry love, you must be upset and I’m just-” You can feel his arms loosening from where they hold you tight, pulling away to give you space you most definitely did not want at the moment. You grip his wrists, tugging his hands back into their rightful place on you.

“No! No, I’m not upset please! Please-” You nuzzle into the hollow of his throat, “please hold me. I want to be held.” Your lips brush against his skin as you whisper and you hear him choke. Those strong arms wrap around you once more.

“Ah, a-as you wish…” Toshinori’s voice comes out breathless, and you feel him press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“It was a good talk. I was…” You pause, trying to think of the best way to phrase your question. “I was granted permission to…to court whomever I wish…”

You feel him suck in a sharp breath, his shoulders tensing under where your hands grip him to hold him close. You can hear the sound of his heartbeat where your head rests against his chest, and you know under your cheek is the very spot where his scar resides. You want to spend eternity like this, just being held by your knight like you’re something precious for once.

“...Truly? That's-that's fantastic my love…” You hear Toshinori gulp above you, his arms tightening their hold even further.

“I think so too. I wanted to ask…” You pause and breathe deeply, grounding yourself. He wouldn't say no, there was no reason to say no. “I wanted to ask if you would consider…allowing me to court you, Ser Knight? And to one day be my King Consort.” You press a kiss to his cloth covered chest, right above his heart.

“My love…” You feel his hand, rough with callouses, cup your jaw and angle your head up to look at him. Piercing blue eyes that glow with resilience and determination stare into your own. “There is nothing I would love more, than to be by your side.”

And he seals this promise with a kiss.

#Toshinori Yagi #All Might #Toshinori Yagi X Reader #All Might X Reader #BNHA #MHA #My Writing

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ryuryuryuyurboat · 3 days ago

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toxic till the end

synopsis: what happens when things can’t work anymore?

genre: angst, no comfort

characters: alhaitham x gn! reader

warnings: suggests a toxic relationship, alhaitham might be ooc

a/n: my favourite animal is me during a breakup fr || likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

masterlist

how long had it been since you last felt at peace with your lover? how long had it been since you hadn’t had to walk on eggshells around him? how long had it been since you went to bed happy?

answer: too long ago to remember.

sure, alhaitham had been nothing but the sweetest with you, so patient when you were in one of your moods, so understanding when you were occasionally too busy with work to see him. he’d been vulnerable with you, and let you do the same with him in turn, under multiple starry nights. he’d even shown you his softest side– kaveh often joked that he should hold you hostage next time he forgot the house keys and needed alhaitham to open the door for him. but perhaps you should’ve been just a little more observant.

why did alhaitham, of all people, always end up in a foul mood when he saw you laughing with your other male friends? because he was jealous. why did he get jealous even though he knew they were just your friends? … i don’t know. it didn’t matter, then, because you found it kinda endearing how he was obsessed with you and you could tirelessly assure him that he was the only one for you.

and then it got worse.

“why won’t you let me hang out with my friends?”

“because there’ll be guys.” your lover replied, not missing a beat, and not looking up from that stupid book he’d been reading for days on end.

“what’s that got to do with–” you felt your blood pressure rise. “are you implying you can’t trust me with other guys?”

out of everything you’d said that afternoon, that was the one that got him to put his book aside.

“what? no, that’s not what i–”

“then what do you mean?” you raised your voice, “because ever since the start of this relationship, all you say every time i so much as mention one single guy friend is how you get jealous and how much you don’t like when i talk about them! you ever hear me do that when you talk about your friends?”

“woah, babe, will you relax for a second? can’t we talk this out?”

you stopped dead. “relax?” you repeated in disbelief. upon seeing his face — completely serious — you sighed and reached for the door. “...i can’t do this right now. i need space.”

“wait– where’re you going?”

“out.” you didn’t see, didn’t hear him reach for you, mouthing the words “don’t leave.”

you had never been more grateful to have candace as a friend, for she had welcomed you into aaru village with open arms and told you to stay for as many nights as you needed to.

why did you always give in to alhaitham’s needs, even if it burnt you out? because i loved him. why hadn’t he done the same, and instead constantly rejected you when you voiced your needs, saying he’d already been trying his best? … i don’t know. yet he’d turned around and made you feel like the asshole for asking him to meet your needs.

“sometimes, i feel like you don’t even care about me. do you really love me?”

“...what?”

he sighs. “it feels like i’ve given up so much for you, but you never did for me.”

“?????”

“you… don’t agree?” he looked at your dumbfounded face, at your mouth opening and closing as you looked for words to defend yourself without making the conversation yet another argument.

“i…” you inhaled deeply. “what made you think that?” you attempted a small smile to show you were calm — so he wouldn’t tell you to relax and be patient with him, like he had countless times before — but it felt so wrong.

i gave up my dream to move to fontaine for you, you want to scream. all because you’d rather stay in sumeru but couldn’t bear the thought of being far away from me.

alhaitham had always been excellent at chess. maybe a bit too good, now that you thought about it. maybe that’s why his proficiency at the game translated into his actions around you.

“i’ve been thinking about it, and i think i want a break.”

“you want a breakup?”

“no. just– just a break from this.” you gestured lamely, “from this relationship. it’s stressing me out.”

he stared, incredulous. “how am i stressing you out?”

“not you, i–”

“tell me what’s wrong, babe.” he interrupted, reaching out to clasp your hands with his. “i’ll do better, we can work on it together, right?”

“but you always say that.”

“i mean it every time, i really do.” he sounded so desperate, so pleading, till part of you wanted to just take back everything you’d just said.

you inhaled. “i just think the break would be good for us, you know? like, i’ve been stressed out because you’ve been upset i haven’t been fulfilling your needs and i think i could use the break to work on myself so you don’t feel neglected, y’know?”

“no.” he stared at you like you just told him cyno was in love with kaveh. “you know you’re going to make things worse if we go on break.”

“oh.”

later that night, as you tiptoed out of the house with your bags, you couldn’t help but wonder if alhaitham was the only one who brought the relationship you had to its bitter end.

taglist: @pawpiefawn @kazemiya @akutagawacide @dailypenpen @yourfavoritefreakyhan @thestarswhisper (send ask to be added to taglist!)

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#astronetwrk #nereids' realm #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #genshin angst

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lucygxybaird · 1 day ago

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12 Days of Christmas - Day 7

You really should have seen this coming.

Your balance has never been good, as proven multiple times over the course of your childhood.

You still have a small scar on your left knee from an accident suffered when you were learning to walk (why your parents let you toddle around on your gravel driveway, you still don’t understand). It took you nearly four months to learn to ride a bike, because you kept falling over every time your dad let go. After your mother enrolled you in a gymnastics class, as a result of you begging for months, she had to take you out again after you first lesson because the balance beam represented such a risk to your safety — and the safety of the other children — that she feared a lawsuit.

Even as an adult, you can’t wear those fluffy slipper socks on stairs for fear of serious injury.

So you really don’t know why you decided to volunteer to hang up the green-and-red streamers over the gymnasium door. Point of fact, you don’t know why you agreed to help decorate at all. You mean well, but you’re not crafty. Every stamp on the Christmas cards you sent out this year were crooked, for God’s sake.

Your only excuse is that you really, really want to fit in at this school. You’ve always wanted to be a teacher, and the high school in East Linfield seems like a good one.

It certainly didn’t help your worries that you started so late in the year, because the previous teacher had moved with his husband to Palm Springs. The kids hadn’t even finished reading A Tale of Two Cities, and here you were trying to fuse your own lesson plan with the one they’d been working on. You were excited and frazzled and anxious all at once, a potent cocktail that meant you had your guard down.

So when another woman in the English department asked if you were free tonight, because they really needed an extra hand decorating the gym for the Winter Snowball, you found yourself smiling and saying, “Sure! I’d love to help out.”

Which is how you find yourself balancing on your tiptoes, on the very top of a stepladder, and you’re so, so close to getting the tinsel where you need it to be. If you could just get it a little bit — you push yourself a smidge higher on your toes, your fingers brush the nail where you’re meant to drape it, and —

There’s a very concerning creak, and you feel rather than see the stepladder slip out from under your feet as it collapses like a house of cards in a wind tunnel. You clutch uselessly, desperately, at the yard of tinsel in your hand as you fall backward, your arms windmilling like that’s going to help you in any way whatsoever.

Bang!

You wish that was the sound of the stepladder hitting the ground, but that flimsy thing couldn’t make so much noise if it was bounced around in a car trunk by a very tiny, very angry gorilla. No, in actuality, it’s the sound of your head smacking against the gym floor hard enough for you to see stars. Which is something you thought was a cliche, but it’s true. Points of light explode behind your eyes, one after the other, like silent fireworks.

When you open your eyes — not that you remember closing them — you see a face hovering over yours, and you realize you aren’t actually on the floor anymore. You’re being cradled in someone’s arms, propped up in their lap. It takes you a few moments to realize that the arms and the face bent over you, concern etched all over it, belong to the same person.

Moments after this realization comes another one.

You know this guy.

“Alex,” you say fuzzily, and his anxious expression melts — momentarily — into a smile.

“That’s right,” he says. “Yeah, I’m Alex. We met last week, remember?”

You do, if only because you’d thought then — as you do now — that he’s very, very cute. “I remember,” you assure him.

He smiles at you again. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna try to get you up now, alright? You ready?”

You nod.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Alright—!”

And then he scoops you up into his arms, standing up with a little grunt of effort, and you clutch at him like you’re holding onto a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. Both your stomach and your vision stage separate revolts, like they’re eighteenth century American colonists and French citizens, respectively. You clutch at Alex’s shoulders for a moment while he looks at you with increasing alarm.

“Are you okay?” he says. “We should get you to the emergency room.”

Your stomach flips all over again at the thought of doctors, not to mention the astronomical bills you’ll have to pay. “No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him. “You can put me down now.”

“Oh—” It seems like he’s forgotten you’re even in his arms. “Oh, yeah, right, of course, sure.”

He sets you down, his hand still on the small of your back. By now, other people are starting to rush over, all of them looking concerned, although you think at least one of them — the woman who asked you to help, for one — might be more worried about how litigious you are than the state of your skull.

“I’m okay,” you tell all of them, a statement which immediately collapses as soon as you try to take a step forward.

The moment that you do, your knees buckle as a wave of dizziness washes over you. Multiple pairs of hands reach for you, but when you’re actually able to focus again, it’s Alex’s face that you see.

“I don’t think you’re okay,” he says, his tone so deadpan that you have to bite on your lower lip to keep from laughing. Maybe he mistakes this for a grimace of pain, because his eyebrows beetle down lower over his eyes as he frowns anxiously. “Really, I think you need to go to the hospital.”

Maybe it’s because you’re too dizzy — and increasingly nauseous — to think straight, or maybe it’s because Alex looks so endearingly concerned, as if you’re more than some coworker he only met a few days ago. As if he really cares.

You cave.

“Okay,” you say. “Yeah, okay.”

Alex lets out a breath as you agree, not so much a sigh of relief as of resignation, as if now he’s gotten one item on his checklist done and he has to move on to another. “Come on,” he says, and he anchors an arm around your waist, supporting you as he leads you toward the gym doors.

From the corner of your eye, you see everyone else just standing there, looking bemused if not helpless. A few of them start drifting back to whatever tasks they were working on before you so elegantly displayed how graceful you are. They all seem perfectly happy to let Alex take care of you, but you can’t fault them for that.

You’re perfectly happy with it, too.

As Alex nudges the doors open with his shoulder, you say, “You’ll stay with me, right?”

The doors swing open to admit the two of you into the hall, and as they bang shut behind you, Alex pauses to look you right in the eye. “Yes,” he says. “Unless somebody with a stethoscope and a degree way beyond my capabilities tells me I can’t.”

You can’t help but smile, and when you do, his face softens again. While he’s looking at you like this, you really have no choice but to revisit the he’s very, very cute idea again. And very tall. Which you suppose isn’t saying much, since you stopped growing when you were around fourteen.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

He gives a little bow of his head, a movement that’s oddly formal but nonetheless absolutely adorable. “Of course.”

Alex helps you to his car, tucking you into the passenger seat. “Hold on,” he says, and lopes around to the trunk, which he unlocks — you wonder how old his car is — and then rummages around in.

He returns a few moments later with a first aid kit, which he balances on the dashboard in front of you before popping it open. After a few moments of semi-frantic rummaging, he pulls out a cold compress and gently cups the back of your head, laying the cold compress against the rising knot poking up near your left ear.

“What are you doing?” you mutter, as he takes your hand and puts it against the other end of the compress, before moving his own.

Alex jogs around the hood of the car and slides into the driver’s seat, starting the engine before he answers you. “It’s for the pain,” he says. “And to bring the swelling down.”

“Oh.”

He navigates out of the school parking lot and you tip your head back, pinning the cold compress between your throbbing skull and the headrest.

You reach the center of town without incident, but then —

“Oh my God,” Alex says, and you can’t help a snort-laugh (although you wish you could, because it makes your headache worse).

It’s as close to bumper-to-bumper traffic as a relatively small town is capable of exhibiting. Looking at the sea of cars stretching beyond the windshield, you let out a faint moan. Alex shoots you a worried look from the corner of his eye that you aren’t meant to see, but you do, so you bite your lip.

“Are you okay?” he says. “I mean, do you feel — I don’t know — queasy or anything? Or like you’re going to pass out?”

You consider this. “No,” you say. “My head just hurts. I’ve never had my had squeezed by the Hulk but I’m guessing it would feel pretty similar to this.”

Alex huffs out a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “I don’t think I’m going to throw up in your car.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he says. “I’m worried about you.”

You smile, looking over at him. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t absolutely freak out if I threw up in your car right now?”

The line of cars ahead of you moves forward a few precious feet, and Alex manages to weave his car ahead of a few others. He’s concentrating so much on this maneuver that he doesn’t respond to you at first, but then he admits, “Well…I’d try to keep my freaking out to myself as much as I could.”

“I appreciate that.”

It takes nearly half an hour for the hospital to come into view, and even then, it takes another fifteen to finagle a way into the parking lot. By the time Alex has actually found a spot and parked, you do in fact feel a little queasy.

The whole time, though, Alex keeps asking you questions, probably just trying to keep you awake (although you’re pretty sure you read somewhere the whole “concussed people shouldn’t be allowed to sleepthing” is a myth or something, but still).

Where are you from?

You told him, and he says that he’s been there on a vacation with his best friend. You asked him what he liked best. He said the food, which made you laugh. “Did you go to this place called Justine’s? They have the best friend chicken in the world.”

No, he’d said, and you told him that the two of you would have to go back someday and you’d take him. The words had slipped out before you could stop yourself — this was the first full conversation you’d really had with him, and here you were offering to whisk him away — but Alex had only smiled at you. “That sounds nice,” he’d told you.

He asked you when you realized you wanted to teach — in the sixth grade, when you met an English teacher who encouraged you to write, and you never forgot that — and why you moved to Linfield. You said that it was far enough from home for you to have independence, but not so far that traveling back home would cost an arm and a leg.

You’re pretty sure he’d said, I’m glad you chose this place, but at that point you’d hit a speed bump and an invisible railroad spike had been driven into your skull. By the time Alex had finished apologizing, the moment had passed.

“Okay, here we are,” Alex says, pulling into a space. “Wait for me.”

He hops out and is about to slam his door before he takes a look at your face. Closing the door so carefully it could be made of porcelain, he hustles around the front of the car and opens your door for you, scooping his arm around your waist and helping you to your feet.

“Almost there,” he says encouragingly, his tone suggesting you’re lagging in the final leg of a marathon.

He propels you through a pair of automatic doors and into the waiting room, which is — of course — packed, but fortunately not too packed that you can’t find two chairs together. Alex deposits you in one of them while he hurries to the front desk.

He returns a few moments later with a clipboard loaded with insurance forms, which he looks apologetic about. “I know this seems like a lot,” he says, waving the clipboard around, “but I’ll help you. I’ll write stuff down if you want.”

“Please,” you say.

So he sits next to you, his shoulder bracing yours, and writes down your answers in his careful printing. You smile. “You have really nice handwriting,” you say. “It looks like typography.”

Alex chuckles. “Thank you.”

When all the forms are finally done, you realize your head is on his shoulder. It feels very, very heavy, but you do your best. “Sorry,” you say.

To your surprise, Alex reaches over and puts his hand on your cheek, pushing your head back down. “It’s okay,” he says. “Leave it, if you’re comfortable.”

You are. His shoulder is broad and warm, and with your head nestled there, you catch the faint but distinctive scent of pine. “Okay,” you sigh.

Alex pats your knee gently. “Okay,” he agrees.

The two of you sit in (relative) silence, before you say, “Alex?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? We barely know each other. You could have just as easily have dropped me off and gone back to your day.”

From the corner of your eye, you see him shake your head. “No,” he says simply. “I couldn’t have. It’s not how I am.”

It’s not the most verbose explanation, but you don’t need one. His words strike you cleanly and easily as true, as if someone has told you the sky is blue or water is wet. You don’t have to look out a window or dunk your head in a lake to know that. Alex just isn’t the sort of person who can turn his back on someone who needs him.

“Thank you, anyway,” you say. “I’m glad we’re getting to know each other, even if I might have lost a few brain cells in the process.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think that’s how that works,” he says. “But me too.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “It was probably just some math brain cells. I was never very god at that, anyway.”

“Two plus two is?”

“Mmm — 22?”

“So close.”

Later, you try to blame it on the fact that your brains have been scrambled around in your skull like the little white flakes in a snow globe; a little while later still, you think it just felt right. It takes you a while to realize you’ve even done it, but eventually, you look down to discover that you’re holing Alex’s hand.

And not lightly, either, but with your palm nestled into his, your fingers laced together. You frown down at this, puzzled. “When did this happen?”

Alex glances down at your linked hands. “I don’t know,” he says, and gives a little shrug, the motion small enough not to jostle your head. “It’s okay.”

And then he squeezes your hand, running his thumb lightly over your knuckles in a way that indicates maybe it’s more than okay.

A voice calls your name, and you reluctantly pick your head up from Alex’s shoulder. “We’re ready for you,” a nurse is saying, and Alex helps you to your feet.

You hop up on the little table-bed thing with its crackly wax paper spread over the top, your feet swinging idly. You catch Alex muffling a smile into his collar, and you smile back at him just as a nurse steps into the room.

By the time you walk out of the doctor’s office, clutching a prescription for pain medication, Alex looks marginally more relaxed. “At least we know you’re okay,” he says, letting out a long breath. “Do you have anyone to check on you?”

“Check on me?”

Alex nods. “You’re supposed to check on someone with a concussion to make sure they’re breathing normally,” he says.

You blanch. “Is that unlikely? That I’d be breathing normally?”

At once, consternation washes over Alex’s face. “No, no, no,” he says quickly. “No. It’s just…I mean, they say it’s okay to check on someone with a concussion, to make sure — you know — but — I mean, I guess…I’m — I feel like it’s better safe than sorry, and I don’t want…”

You smile, mostly to reassure him but also because it’s adorable, the way he’s babbling, trying to comfort you. “Alex, if you’re trying to invite yourself over, you can always just ask.”

He smiles back at you. “Can I come over?”

“Sure.”

You direct him to your apartment, and he insists on helping you up the stairs, like you’re a feeble little grandma whose hip will shatter if she lifts her foot at the wrong angle. When you let the two of you into your apartment, Alex asks where your linen closet is.

“I’m not a middle-aged woman with a collection of needlepoint throw pillows,” you say. “I don’t have a linen closet.”

“Okay, so where you do you keep your extra blankets?”

You tell him you keep them in a storage ottoman at the foot of your bed, and he says, “Oh, a linen closet is too old for you, but a storage ottoman is the peak of youth culture?”

“Did you ask just to make fun of me?”

“No.” He nudges you toward your own couch. “Sit.”

So you do, and you turn on the TV, flipping through your streaming services until you just pick something and try to find a show or movie that you both might like. Which is difficult because you have no idea the sort of thing Alex likes to watch, so you settle on a docuseries about the Love Has Won cult. Doesn’t everybody find that fascinating? At least in the “can’t look away from a car wreck” kind of way?

You look up to find Alex carrying a couple of blankets and a pillow, all of which he tucks around you until you’re shaped rather like the Michelin man. He settles down beside you and raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t this the Mother God woman?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He wriggles his shoulders until he’s more comfortable beside you. “Interesting. Good pick.”

You find yourself smiling way bigger over that little sliver of approbation than you probably should.

When the show is over, the streaming service offers up similar choices, and you let Alex pick. It’s another multi-episode show, which takes you four hours further on, and then he lets you pick the next.

By the time that one is over, it’s pitch black outside, and you hesitate. “Don’t you have to get home?”

You don’t want him to leave.

“No,” he says. “My cat has an automatic feeder. She’ll be okay without me until morning. Actually, she’ll probably appreciate the solitude.”

“What’s her name?”

“Flannery O’Connor.”

You hum softly. After a moment of hesitation, you put your head back on his shoulder. “Well, she was wrong,” you say.

“Who?”

“Flannery. A good man isn’t hard to find.”

You think there’s a smile in his voice. “No?”

“No,” you say. “I found one right here.”

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a moment, watching a former cult member detail how she had to change her name to Aurora and give up all her credit cards. After a few moments, Alex’s hand finds yours again.

“Do you have plans for New Year’s?” he asks quietly.

“No,” you say.

“Would you like some?”

You smile. “Yes.”

A pause, and then he says: “With me?”

You laugh. “Yes, Alex.”

His fingers tighten briefly around yours. “Good,” he says.

You wonder if he’s thinking about the possibility of a New Year’s kiss. You certainly are. When you flit a glance up to Alex’s face, he’s already looking at you.

Judging by the look in his eyes, you don’t have to wonder if he’s thinking about kissing you at midnight on the last day of the year.

He definitely is.

#alex nilsen fanfiction #alex nilsen x reader #alex nilsen #pwmov #tom blyth #12 days of christmas #12doc day seven

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crushmeeren · 1 day ago

Text

ᝰ SASUKE’S NSFW ALPHABET .ᐟ

cw ; i have added a few visuals to this, inspired by @osamucide and this post of visuals! you have to be logged into your twitter account for them to work. it’s porn, so THIS IS YOUR WARNING.

p.s. ; { i know Sasuke only has one arm now, but these visuals involve guys that have two. please, take it with a grain of salt and picture it the best you can. (✿˶˘ ³˘) }

master list

ᝰ A ‣ ‣ AFTERCARE { ༝༝ what’s sasuke like after sex? ༝༝ }

The man is a teddy bear these days. So when your sweaty skin sticks to Sasuke’s like glue, chest heaving to catch your breath, he keeps his cock sealed in your pussy. He’s careful with his movements, tender, and he’ll shift you ‘round until you’re on your sides, nose to nose.

Warm fingers will skate down your waist, over your thigh, and grasp the sensitive area behind your knee, tugging to hook it over his hip. That same arm will lock around your waist, pull you close, and what’s left of his other one will tuck under your neck.

“Feeling good baby?” He murmurs, pressing his hips forward just to tease. He’s still hard, and he uses that to his advantage. Your pussy squeezes tight and he moans, lashes fluttering when you chuckle. He leans into your touch when your fingers run through his hair, brushing it off his forehead.

Sasuke snuggles in close after that, giving you both time to stay present in the afterglow before you clean up.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ B ‣ ‣ BODY PART { ༝༝ sasuke’s favorite ༝༝ }

Sasuke strikes me as the type of man who doesn’t have a preference. He loves every part of you, because at the end of the day, they’re all connected to the person he loves. He simply can’t get enough of you.

When your tits bounce, when your ass jiggles, the fact that your lips and fingers fit like a glove around his cock, Sasuke loses his mind. He stares at your pretty face at all times of the day, limbs like live wires each time he fucks you so well your nails leave angry pink scratches down his chest.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ C ‣ ‣ CUM { ༝༝ where sasuke likes to cum ༝༝ }

The heat of your pussy seems to spread throughout Sasuke’s entire body. It starts in his cock, slithers up his belly, up his throat, and pools in his cheeks. There’s cotton in his ears when you call out to him, smacking his chest to get his attention.

“Sasuke!” Your voice pitches higher, back arching without permission. His heavy thrusting continues to inch you up the mattress. “Pull out Sasuke, you — fuck, you gotta pull out!”

Sasuke’s jaw clenches, cock starting to twitch in warning. “You sure baby? I don’t think your pussy wants to let me go. So greedy.” His hand clutches your thigh tighter as struggles to keep his eyes open.

You level him with the best glare you can. Sasuke pouts, but he does pull out, and he cums in glossy threads all over your tits instead. Even if he’d rather fill your pussy to the brim.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ E ‣ ‣ EXPERIENCE { ༝༝ how much does sasuke have? ༝༝ }

Sasuke’s gotten his dick sucked, he’s eaten pussy, he’s just never stepped over the last threshold. Not by the time you met him.

He’s not a shy, blushing virgin, either. He never gave a single fuck about it before, and he doesn’t give a single fuck even after you’ve started a relationship. He never stops being a little shit though, taunting you with things like “Is that right? My pretty girl wants to take my virginity? Good, I’ve wanted to get my dick inside your tight pussy since I met you.”

Sauske is nothing if not a fast learner. Once he gets over the shock of pleasure those first few times, he figures out how to play your body like a fiddle.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ F ‣ ‣ FAVORITE POSITION { ༝༝ sasuke’s favorite ༝༝ }

Bouncing up and down on Sasuke’s cock destroys him.

Watching him dig the base of his skull into the mattress, neck taught and straining as his spine pulls up into an arch, you feel powerful. His expression always shatters with pleasure when you brace your palms on his pecs and sit down with enough force to leave an ache in his pelvis.

He tries to stay quiet, but often he can’t. He lets out moan after moan, these low, rasping noises that buzz in your brain.

But his favorite part, the one that tightens his balls and coils heat behind his navel, is when your thighs give out. Allowing him to draw up his knees, plant his feet, and thrust up into your pussy until your wailing, squirting all over his cock.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual here .ᐟ

ᝰ H ‣ ‣ HAIR { ༝༝ does sasuke shave or care? ༝༝ }

Sasuke doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. There’s a sparse trail of soft, dark hair from his belly button to his pelvis, ending with a handful of curls at the base of his cock. He’s never felt the urge to shave.

The only situation in which he’d be bothered by your hair is if it’s blocking his access to your pussy.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ I ‣ ‣ INTIMACY { ༝༝ is sasuke romantic? ༝༝ }

Sasuke is a secret romantic. The icy exterior he works so hard to maintain dissolves when you’re alone, the soft secret smile he hides lighting up his face. The first time you had sex you’d followed him home after dinner, heart full, and you’d stumbled in shock when you were met with a trail of flower petals leading to his room.

The lights were dimmed already, and Sasuke took you by the hand to guide you along. You noticed a couple candles scattered in his room, waiting to be lit. When you turned to peek at Sasuke he met your gaze, cheeks flushed pink.

You couldn’t help but tease him with “Were you so certain you’d get laid tonight?” Taking his hand and squeezing. Sasuke glared half heartedly, returning the affectionate gesture.

Sasuke didn’t bother responding, he just held you close and let you ride him until he had to beg for a break.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual here .ᐟ

ᝰ J ‣ ‣ JERKING OFF { ༝༝ does sasuke jerk off? ༝༝ }

Sasuke’s opinion on jerking off is more or less “meh”. If the urge is strong enough, and he’s got the time, once in awhile he’ll indulge.

To ask Sasuke directly, he’d much rather it be your hand stroking his cock. He’ll sit down by you in bed, lean his head on your shoulder, and ask in a low tone if you’d be willing to lend him a helping hand. After all, he can’t squeeze and palm his balls if his singular hand is occupied.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual here .ᐟ

ᝰ K ‣ ‣ KINK { ༝༝ sasuke’s kinks ༝༝ }

Breeding kink who?

In all seriousness though, this is one of, if not the only, kink that he has. It’s not so much the reality of you becoming pregnant as it is the idea of it. The risk that accompanies cumming in your pussy until it squeezes out the sides while Sasuke very much continues to push it back in.

When the two of you do agree to start trying for a baby, the first time you have sex after that conversation Sasuke hadn’t been aware you were ovulating. You blurted it out in the middle of having a knee pressed to your chest.

Sasuke paused, hips pressed firm to your ass, and said “Aw, are we gonna make a baby tonight? How sweet.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual here .ᐟ

ᝰ L ‣ ‣ LOCATION { ༝༝ where sasuke likes to fuck ༝༝ }

The bed, no doubt. He’s also fond of the couch. Any place that’s comfortable and doesn’t raise the difficulty level of functioning with one arm.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ O ‣ ‣ ORAL { ༝༝ sasuke’s thoughts on oral ༝༝ }

Sitting that sweet pussy on his tongue is what he prefers. It’s easier for him to cup the swell of your ass, to help guide your clit across his tongue, and he swats you every now then to hear your breath hitch. When you thread your fingers through his hair and hold tight, Sasuke’s scalp tingles. It shoots straight to his cock.

Getting his dick sucked is a different matter. He admits that he does enjoy admiring your face while you work him over with your tongue. Placing kisses along his shaft, taking him deep until you choke, but he loves your pussy so much more.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ Q ‣ ‣ QUICKIES { ༝༝ sasuke and quickies ༝༝ }

Sasuke enjoys a quickie every once and awhile. If you want him to fuck you fast and hard before you leave, he’s down. He’ll bend you over the kitchen counter, let you ride him on the couch, whatever you want he’s willing to give.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual one two .ᐟ

ᝰ S ‣ ‣ STAMINA { ༝༝ what’s sasuke’s stamina like? ༝༝ }

Not everyone has endless stamina during sex, and that’s okay. Sasuke happens to be one of those people. He’s average.

He does last long enough to leave you breathless and satisfied, and on occasion, if you both put in the effort, he can get it up for multiple rounds. You definitely take advantage of those nights.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ T ‣ ‣ TEASE { ༝༝ does sasuke like to tease you? ༝༝ }

The part of Sasuke that convinces him to act like a little shit never changes. He loves you, and he’s squishy like a marshmallow on the inside for you, so of course he teases.

It’s all playful, never pushing too far. The nights when you straddle Sasuke’s thighs, take his cock in hand and stroke him until he’s fully hard for a second round, he’ll smooth his hand up and down your side, smirking when he coos “Oh baby, your pussy needs my cock again, doesn’t she? I’ll give it to you, don’t whine.” He’ll pinch your ass, clutch the back of your thigh, and help you bounce to your hearts desire.

#sasuke uchiha x you #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha smut #sasuke smut #uchiha sasuke x reader #uchiha sasuke #sasuke headcanons #sasuke uchiha #naruto x reader smut #naruto x reader #naruto smut #naruto x you #naruto headcanons

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pftones3482 · 1 day ago

Text

Not me being one of the last ones to post my Secret Santa gift lol - life has been crazy.

This is for @authenticcadence18, who I know asked for something with Canderemy. I hope you enjoy the fluff!

(Set in the future, post Candace graduating law school and marrying Jeremy, and because it's me, she works for OWCA lol)

Under a cut for length. You can also read it in The One Shot-inator!

“Why are holiday cards even still a thing?” Candace groaned, leaning back in the dining room chair until her spine audibly cracked. She gave a sigh of relief and then scowled at the pile of cards scattered across hers and Jeremy’s kitchen table. “And why do we know so many people?”

Jeremy chuckled from his seat across from her, finishing the address up on the one he was working on. “Is that rhetorical or serious?”

She grumbled, sitting back up and snatching the next one from the stack. “Rhetorical,” she said with a sigh, eyeing the name scrawled on top in Jeremy’s fancy cursive. Bobby. “I know, I know, maintaining physical media and connections is important. But seriously, why aren’t we just addressing one card to all of Love Handel? It’s not like they don’t all live together.”

“That’s insensitive,” Jeremy tisked.

She shook her head fondly and went back to signing the card.

In all seriousness, Candace wasn’t mad about the holiday cards. She was being maybe a little whiney and dramatic, but this was a tradition she never wanted to give up. Sitting with her husband a week before Christmas, listening to orchestral holiday music over their speakers, drinking spiked hot cocoa…it was worth it.

She’d always loved getting physical mail – it felt more personal than a text, especially on the holidays. Jeremy felt the same way and had introduced her to his family’s tradition of having a day set aside just for card making and present wrapping.

And especially with the boys in their second years of college, farther away than usual…sure, she was still going to see them for the holidays. Hell, she and Jeremy were actually hosting Christmas at their place for the very first time that year (which reminded her, she needed to get more gouda for the charcuterie board). But it was almost cathartic, getting to write them little messages in their cards about how much she appreciated and loved them.

Sometimes she missed their backyard shenanigans. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone but Stacy.

She handed off Bobby’s card to Jeremy and pulled the next one off the stack, lips twitching a little at the swirled-out Perry. He had protested at the card every year since Jeremy had been looped into what her job with OWCA actually was, claiming that they could literally just text him, but Jeremy had been absolutely adamant. So every year, Candace found an increasingly more ridiculous card to give him, just to watch him roll his eyes and try to hide his fond little smile.

This year, it was a snowman dressed as a platypus, which according to Stacy was hysterical.

She started signing the card, giving careful thought to her words (equal parts snark and sap), all while her smile grew at the sound of Jeremy humming along to one of the songs on the radio.

It had taken her a while to get used to spending her holiday season with her husband instead of her parents and brothers. Three years ago, their first Christmas together in their home, she’d had a meltdown at the thought of missing time with her family. She’d been petrified Jeremy would be mad. Instead, he’d admitted much the same to her – that he also didn’t necessarily know how to do Christmas without his parents and sister. And then he’d reassured her that they’d figure it out together. The next year, their first Christmas as newlyweds, they’d stumbled a little bit then, too.

Now, they had it down to a science.

They only lived about twenty minutes or so from both their families, so Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were alternated between them year to year. It’d been easy, too easy, so of course Candace just had to offer their home for the holidays this year so that everyone could spend it under the same roof. Why she hated herself this way, she didn’t know.

She slid Perry’s card over to Jeremy and sighed, rubbing her temples. He glanced up from Bobby’s card and his wax sealing supplies, lifting an eyebrow. “Okay, hon?”

She dug her fingers into her skin just a little bit more, trying to dull the ache forming behind her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think my eyes are gonna fall out from staring at so many words.”

Jeremy chuckled, setting down Bobby’s letter and stretching his arms above his head. “We have been sitting here for almost an hour. We can take a break.”

“We still have thirty-six cards to fill out,” Candace pointed out, squinting at the menacing stack to her left. “Plus then we have to wrap all our presents, and I don’t even want to think about how full that living room is.”

He walked around the table making grabby hands at her, and for a second she just wanted to be dramatic, so she turned her squinting gaze on him. But she could never say no to his endearing puppy dog eyes, so she relented and took his hands, letting him drag her to her feet. “Come on, take a break,” he said, wrapping his arms at her waist and tugging her close. “We’ve got all day. Plus tomorrow, if we really need.”

“But it’s supposed to be done in one day,” she groaned, thunking her head on his shoulder and draping her arms over his shoulders. For a second, they stood in silence, swaying gently to the Christmas music that was still playing.

“Well then someone needs to stop making friends across the galaxy so we have less cards to sign.”

“Meap is a childhood friend, it’s not like I regularly go to space and meet new people!”

Jeremy snorted, spinning her in a gentle circle around the dining room. “Sure you’re not just stressed about hosting?”

Candace considered the question as they moved, lifting her head off his shoulder and humming. “Hmm, maybe a little. But I know Mom won’t let me stress about it. She’s always been good in the kitchen. It’s just different, is all.”

“Your mom is great in that way. And hey, different isn’t bad,” Jeremy said, twirling her lazily under his arm. She chuckled as she fell back into his grasp. The Christmas song shifted, less “Silent Night” and more Mariah Carey. “I like different.”

She smiled, feeling warm, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Me too.”

His lips settled in a crooked grin, and a boyish spark glittered in his eyes when she pulled back. “Good. Now what do you say we go back to signing the cards for your secret agent platypus and alien bestie?”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

#pnf #phineas and ferb #pnfsecretsanta #my writing #pnf fic #canderemy

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the-greatest-magic-of-all · 5 hours ago

Note

“SIRE!” Ick shrieked as he practically threw himself out of the carriage’s window as soon as it stopped. Kicking up dust as he scrambled to Riz’s side, careful not to accidentally overshoot and fly through the portal.

“Ugh,” Riz couldn’t help but groan. Yeah, he should’ve expected a last-ditch effort to get him to stay. Turning to a bent-over, panting Ick, Riz crossed his arms and bluntly asked, “What now?”

Once he’d caught most of his breath, Ick pushed himself to stand upright. Readjusting his robes before settling his hands behind his back in tight fists. “Your Majesty, I implore you to listen to reason. You simply cannot leave us.”

“It’s actually very simple,” Riz shot back, trying not to let pure frustration drip from his every word. Unbeknownst to him, his frustrations were showing in other ways. Thanks to the chaotic, primal nature of the Feywild, the rulers of its vast and varied realms held sway over everything within their domains. Including the physical world. Far up above the village of Bugbarrow, dark clouds began to form and swirl. “My job here is done, so I am leaving. End of story.”

“B-but without a King present—”

Nope! That’s it! Riz is done playing nice. “Fine, Ick! I’ll give you a King!” He muttered as he set his briefcase down in order to yank the Sword of Shadows from it. Unsheathing it in one fluid movement, the shadows curled and twisted around his hand as Riz looked Ick dead in his eyes and said, “I challenge you to take the Crown from me.”

A wave of pure yet nigh invisible magic erupted from Riz’s form, surging out in a wave until it reached every corner of the Goblin Court. The King had declared a duel. The air buzzed with arcane anticipation. Every Goblin that wasn’t already outside and/or keeping an eye on the leaving brides quickly made their way out. None of them dared to go closer than needed, but none wanted to miss this.

Royal Advisor Sir Ick, for his part, flinched as The Sword of Shadows was drawn, but he stood his ground. “Sire,” He said slowly, his voice low and his face stony as he shook his head. “My answer is the same as it was several days ago. I will do no such thing.”

Almost all at once, the arcane energy of the duel was dispelled. Riz groaned. Fine! (The storm up above crackled with lightning.) He didn’t need this stubborn bastard to rid himself of this stupid title. “Well! Then—” Riz turned away from Ick and toward the audience that had gathered in the village’s square. Throwing his arms open, he raised his voice as he said, “—I challenge anyone here to take the Crown from me!”

Another duel declared, the magic surging out once again. Air buzzing with anticipation as thunder rumbled from the clouds overhead. Only… Not a single person spoke up. Riz’s eyes darted around the group of about hundred and twenty or so Goblins that all stared back at him with looks of amusement, defiance, or, worse yet, pity. There wasn’t even a foolish, spitfire teen that volunteered just for the hell of it. What in the actual—

“Seriously? Come on, folks! Free crown? Fancy castle? Ultimate power?” Riz asked, feeling like a cheap car salesman as he offered up things that people have literally killed for. “No one?!”

Fabian (who got his name back on the way here) could barely keep his laughter to himself. Slapping a hand over his mouth once, Riz picked up on it and whipped around to glare at him. “What? Don’t get mad at me!” Fabian whined from where he was posted up near the still-open portal. “Seems like everyone here is just as fond of all of that King business as you are.”

“You are not helping,” Riz hissed, even though he knew there wasn’t much Fabian could actually do. The best he could do would be to take the title from him. And there was no world where Riz would leave his friend behind in this place. No matter how much he’d love it. Dragging a hand down his face, Riz tightened his grip on his sword as he (reluctantly) tapped into the vast pool of magic the title of Goblin King provided him. To the end of making sure that his voice was heard all throughout the realm, “To the entirety of the Goblin Court and every Fey within it, I challenge any of you to take this Crown from me!”

A third duel declared, this time with enough magic sent out to the farthest reaches so that any who accepted Riz’s challenge could teleport to him as soon as they did so.

And yet…

Nothing.

You’ve got to be kidding.

How bad could the last Kings have possibly been that every last soul within the Court agreed that their best bet was a seventeen-year-old sleepless detective who regularly takes vitamin gummies and whose first best friend may very well be his client?

Surely, they could do better?!

Tiptoeing back over to where Riz had gone silent as he stared down at his feet, Ick quietly tried to begin with, “Sire—”

“Sir Ick,” Riz cut him off. Eyes still focused on his old, leather briefcase kid shoes, but his voice was as grim as a grave. His family had done their damndest to escape this place; there was no way in the Great Wheel that he was getting trapped here again. Lightning crackled overhead as he locked eyes with Ick and quietly said, “Unless someone in the next few moments challenges me for the Crown, I will call upon anyone in the Feywilds to come and take it from me.”

“Wait! Please,” Ick said, his hands fluttering about as if he wanted to grab Riz, but, unlike Drezza, he did not have the nonchalantness to do so. “Your Majesty, for not only our sake but I’m sure your Mother��s, who I would assume would not wish for you to die so brutally, don’t.”

“Is that what you’re all worried about?” Riz asked, lifting his head with furrowed brows, some of the clouds dissipating into rain somewhere else. By the Gods, why would they think—“I’m planning on conceding after a few rounds of combat. You don’t have to kill me. No one does.”

Ick shook his head. “Yes, they do. A living loser of a Crown Contest will not be tolerated.”

A bit less jovial now that death was on the table, Fabian pushed off of the hut he’d been leaning on to walk over. Grimacing, he raised his hand as he caught Ick’s gaze and asked, “Now, by ‘not be tolerated,’ you mean?”

“I mean that if his Majesty is revived after losing, the victor will likely not take kindly to it and will seek to kill him permanently,” Ick explained as a mumbly chorus of agreeance sounded from the audience of Goblins still around them. He turned back to Riz with a solemn look as he went on, “And I assure you, since no one within the Court is willing to fight you, the victor will want you dead and buried for good.”

Crouching down next to Riz’s sagging form, Fabian winced and muttered, “That’s a rough one, Detective.”

“Thanks for the fantastic colour commentary, Fabes,” Riz said tonelessly before he collapsed to sit on the ground. Yes, it was undignified, but he couldn’t give less of a shit about any of that. Sword across his lap, head in his hands, and words muffled, Riz asked, “If I die by other means, will the crown still belong to me?”

Clearing his throat, Ick did what he did best. “I assume you are planning to be revived promptly? If so, then yes, you will still be King since the title is linked to your soul. Of course, you could chance waiting for a usurper to come and take the title while you’re deceased, but you’d risk said usurper taking too long.” And having to find and pay someone to cast True Resurrection on him. Ugh, fuck all of this Fey bullshit! “See, you can’t leave, Sire. As I’ve said, we need a King or else—”

“The Court ceases to function,” Riz droned, imitating Ick’s precise and persnickety inflections. Scowling up at his Advisor with his chin in his hand, he asked, “Why is that exactly?”

“Oh, well, you see…” Ick began, adjusting his glasses, before he launched into what Riz had to assume was a complete and total list of all of the King’s bureaucratic, courtly, and arcane responsibilities. Riz managed to keep up while Fabian zoned out almost immediately. He couldn’t blame him.

The list Ick was laying out before him was mind-numbingly long and convoluted. Sure, there was stuff in there about governing and shit, but there was also his duty to host diplomats for as long as what felt right(?!) and the need to oversee and approve court appointments and new court members. It was all too much for one mortal to do! Hell, he’s not even sure an Archfey could pull this off!

Wait… If it’s too much for one person to do… But then how would he get them to agree to that…? Oh! Well… If Fey bullshit got him into this mess, then perhaps it could get him out of it.

The clouds began to slowly part.

“FINE!” Riz shouted, interrupting Ick’s absurdly long list as he shot to his feet. With a renewed energy, he sheathed and packed up the Sword of Shadows, stood up straight and asked, “How about a bargain?”

Riz could feel the pique of interest not only in Ick but also everyone around them, including Fabian. Who kept crouching as he smirked and arched a brow at him.

Ick, who’d been a bit put out for being interrupted, furrowed his brows in thought for a couple of moments before straightening up himself. A nod, “I’m listening.”

Perfect.

Hands kept loosely behind his back, Riz innocently asked, “How many boroughs would you say the Court has?”

“Twelve, your Majesty.”

Riz took a deep breath, settling himself the best he could before he began, “Perfect, each of them will hold a free and fair election to elect a leader of said borough, which we’ll call a Minister. They will lead and make decisions on behalf of everyone in their district and congregate… two seasons a year, let’s say Spring and Fall, in Hornhallow to discuss bureaucratic choices for the whole Court.”

Oh, yeah, baby!

Guess who’s getting democracy forced onto them!

The sounds of confused and slightly alarmed words and worry shared throughout the surrounding Goblins grew louder and louder the longer Riz went on. But no outright objections, so Riz would take it. Ick did attempt to raise a finger to interject, but Riz quickly shot him down. “I’m not done! All twelve of them will be led and managed by a Prime Minister, whose main job is to oversee the entire Court and bring up only the most important and pressing matters to the King. And guess what, Ick?”

“What?” Wide owlish eyes stared at him in… wonder? Horror? Both? Riz didn’t know, but it felt good to see all the same.

“I’m looking for an outstanding candidate for Prime Minister who already knows his way around the Court’s intricate bureaucracy,” Riz said with a crazed smile and wild eyes. “I hereby delegate all of my responsibilities and duties to be distributed between the Ministers and you, the Prime Minister. However, if need be, I will have the final say on any issue they bring to me and reserve the full right to veto anything or anyone I desire.” Sticking out a hand toward Ick as bright beams of sunlight burst through the cloud cover, revealing a beautiful blue sky, Riz asked, “Do we have a deal?”

Check fuckin’ mate!

Ick was left more than a bit stunned by his Majesty’s not-quite-trick. But he wasn’t ranting and raving at being forced to take on more work. Hell, stunned might not even be the right word now that Riz thought about it. He was just simply quiet. Head hung low, claws fidgeting, tail pensively swaying back and forth. Riz watched as thoughts raced through the Advisor’s mind, and the Goblins of Bugbarrow held their breath, all of them waiting for Ick’s answer.

After a few more moments of quiet, Ick raised his head, held up a finger and asked, “Will all arcane powers and responsibilities still entirely lie with you?”

Huh. Not a rebuttal. But a clarification.

Hope bloomed in Riz’s chest as he thought about Ick’s question. If he couldn’t give away all of his duties, there were worse ones than wielding the magic of this place and having to deal with defending the title from usurpers every so often. In addition to signing some papers and acting as a figurehead. Plus, that meant he got to keep the cool shadow sword! Perhaps this King thing wouldn’t be so bad.

A genuine smile growing on his face, Riz gave Ick a nod as he said, “Yes, I’ll—”

Before he could finish, Ick quickly clasped their hands together, “Deal!”

With that one word, the arcane foundations of the Goblin Court shook. From within their clasped hands, motes and streaks of light and colours erupted out in nigh blinding brilliance. And just like that, the world was different.

As Riz, who felt instantly lighter and freer than he had in a couple of days, caught Ick’s gaze and asked, “You gonna be alright?”

Ick smiled at him and shrugged, “What’s a little more hard work?”

Shaking on it one last time, Prime Minister Ick gave Riz a bow before he bid the people of Bugbarrow good day and left in the carriage in a hurry to get those elections up and running. Riz gave him a little salute as the carriage passed him by before turning to Fabian and sighing with relief.

“Well done, Detective,” Fabian said, smiling (what Riz would later look back on and realize was a lovestruck smile) as he ruffled Riz’s curls. “Ready to go home?”

Leaving a mini offering for when you awaken - Thanks for chatting with me while work has been boring me to death :3

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Fae Wilds

Fabian flinched his hand away when Riz swatted at his fingers, the goblins hand connecting with his knuckles with a stinging crack since he wasn’t pulling his punches. Not anymore. The creature that had tried to hand Fabian a strange piece of fruit snarling at the goblin and earning a venomous hiss from the detective in response before it skuttled up the tree and out of sight into the canopy.

“Just because someone is handing you something doesn’t mean you have to take it.” Riz took a calming breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose under his glasses before resettling them on his face properly. “In fact, put your hands in your pockets. Please.”

The goblin had needed to explain this to Fabian six times already but the Fae Wilds tended to make most people who weren’t native a little vague at the best of times. He wasn’t mad at his friend, not really, he was just kind of wishing he hadn’t let the half elf invite himself on this little mission in the name of ‘watching Riz’s back’ for him. Sure, adventuring with a partner was much more enjoyable than going solo like he usually did but gods was it stressful when he had to keep an eye on Fabian the entire time. If he’d known Fabians human heritage would cause this much of a handicap on his resistance to the confusing influence of this realm he wouldn’t have let him come at all.

This excursion wasn’t in relation to Fabians case anyway, the leads on that one having run dry a while ago, but Riz still had bills to pay and the half elf was fine with him taking other clients in the meantime. They were in the Fae Wilds searching for information, the detectives current client swearing that his daughter had run off with a member of some fairy court and wanting to know where they’d gone. When Riz had gone through his daughters things he’d had to agree, some of the items and letters she’d left behind faintly humming with traces of magic from this realm when he’d checked them over.

So here they were, just the two of them, trying to find someone they could get information out of without trading away something irreplaceable. Riz had gotten a few leads from some of the less dangerous creatures in the area and had been verifying some of it with another when he heard Fabian speaking with someone behind him. The goblin having to whirl around quickly to smack Fabian on the leg to stop him from saying his name to a beautiful, naked woman that looked like they were carved out of a still living tree. Riz narrowing his eyes and baring his teeth when they ran a flirty finger under Fabian’s chin before giggling and wandering away into the forest around them.

“Oh, sorry The Ball. You were trying to get my attention?” Fabian had stared wistfully after the retreating figure until they were impossible to spot among the foliage, the half elf making a choked noise when Riz reached up to grab him by the collar of his jacket and yank him down to the goblins eye level.

“Stop. Saying. Your. Name. and REALLY stop saying your FULL name. Even if they don’t want to steal it they can do some pretty horrible stuff to you if you’re not careful.”

“Ah. Right. Sorry. Force of habit.” Fabian grinned, happy to let the goblin manhandle him around if he wanted to even though it would be very easy to resist. It meant he got to look at his face up close, even if his brows were knitted together in a frown and his ears were pinned back in a way he knew meant he was upset or worried.

“Fuck, okay. I know you’re having issues remembering all this because of-“ Riz let go of his collar with one hand to gesture vaguely around the pair of them, indicating the fae wild at large. “-but it’s going to cause problems if you keep doing that. So. Give me your name.”

“Hmm? Okay, It’s…” The half elf frowned, his own ears drooping slightly while his eye darted, unfocused, from side to side as he tried to think. “I don’t… why can’t I remember?”

“Oh, good. Excellent. I still remember it so that worked.” Riz let go of his collar, pressing their foreheads together in a brief nuzzle before stepping way from him. “You gave me your name. I’ll give it back once we go home but at least I can keep it safe for you until we do. For now you’ll just have to go by… I dunno. Maximum Legend until we leave.”

Now that a creature of this realm had control of the half-elfs name hopefully it would have the duel effect of helping to clear his mind somewhat. Maximum Legend, for his part, was doing an excellent impression of a stunned fish. Mouth hanging open slightly as he stayed crouched in the position Riz had left him in.

“That’s…. what the fuck The Ball? How in the Nine Hells did you even do that?”

“I am a creature of many talents.”

The half-elf scoffed in response but didn’t argue, standing back up to his full height and following along behind Riz as he started walking again.

It's always a delight to chat with you, and it's one of my favourite things to do! Thank you for this gift. Here's a little something in return, pulled from some of our recent chats.

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Maximum Legend—ugh, he couldn’t believe Riz was throwing that one drunken night on Leviathan in his face—kept a hand on the hilt of his blade as he stood back to back with Riz as several masked goblins surrounded them. They’d been on their way through a forest of trees as tall as skyscrapers with thick and colourful underbrush. Following their only lead regarding the location of Riz’s client’s daughter, Sarah. Up until they’d been ambushed, of course.

He’d been ready for a fight, but he felt Riz hesitate at the same time he did, thanks to giving their attackers a second look over. Rusty pitchforks, worn sickles, and recently repaired spears. Masks made up of ripped fabric and threadbare work clothes covered with patchwork leather armour. If they were bandits, they had only just started out, but something told them that these people weren’t even that.

Riz glanced at Maximum Legend to make sure they were on the same page before he called out to one of the goblins in Gukliak. Maximum could only follow parts of the back and forth that occurred. He could surmise that Riz had asked the troupe if they’d seen a Halfling girl running around with a member of one of the nearby Courts.

For a moment, the goblins looked shifty about it, but Riz… insisted that her father only wanted to know that she was safe and bring her home if she wasn’t. A bit of conferring between the troupe and another quick exchange with Riz before they lowered their weapons. Giving them both a nod to follow.

The troupe of goblins kept them close as they led them through the forest toward a small village by a winding creek. Small farms on the outskirts of it with farmers tending to strange beasts and even stranger crops. Little houses and shops were built into the massive ivied tree trunks or carved out of giant moss-covered boulders. A village square with a tall pole wrapped in colourful ribbons and flowers that goblin villagers pass by and congregate at to stare at him and Riz as they’re led deeper into the settlement.

Eventually they are led to a hollowed out giant tree stump where the missing daughter, Sarah, a young ravenhaired Halfling woman sat in a garden of tall grass and wildflowers, playing a guitar for a hoard of young goblins. It was a sweet sight to watch for a moment or two. But sooner than later, one of the kits noticed their and their guides’ presences and a whirlwind of chaos erupted.

Sarah stopped strumming, sitting up alarmed as some of the kits raced towards a couple of the goblins who guided them here—their parents, obviously. While others, the ones on the older side stayed and began to swarm Sarah as if they could hide her with their bodies. And that is nothing to say of a matronly Goblin woman bursting out of the stump and rushing to put herself in front of Sarah and the kits as she hissed at the guides and the outsiders.

Maximum watched as Riz lowered his ears in submission to her obvious authority in this place as he began to speak to her slowly in Gukliak. At first, she wasn’t having it; not even some nudging from their guides was enough for her to let them come any closer. But luckily, Sarah was far more willing to humour them.

Slithering out of the pile of kits, she threw her guitar over her shoulder as she walked over to the Goblin matron to put a hand on her shoulder. Telling her that they most likely weren’t here on the Goblin King’s orders. She recognized their clothing; they were from her home plane. Here to rescue her. Sarah smiles at them and tells them that Drezza is just worried about her because she sees her stolen daughter in her, that’s all. She’s happy to talk to them and explain what happened to her.

You see, Sarah Timbersage had been having a really tough time at college, at her dead-end job and at home and… she’d met a guy. Handsome, almost too good-looking for words. Elven, she’d guessed at first, but he’d been light on the details. They’d exchanged letters, back and forth; old fashioned, but she’d liked it. He’d said that she could come live with him, that he’d take care of her, and she’d want for nothing…

As the fifth daughter of eight children, it was an enticing offer. Believable, too, he’d given her a beautiful necklace as if it were nothing. She hadn’t even realized she’d been enthralled until she was deep in the Feywild, within the Castle of the Goblin King. Who, she’d quickly realized, was only going to add her to a collection of “brides” he kept as a testament to his power. Including Drezza’s daughter, Pollina, though Sarah hadn't known that then. Only by pure luck did she manage to escape the fortress and disappear into the forest surrounding it.

Sarah doesn’t know how long she wandered, but one morning, after spending the night hidden in a rotted log, she was found by some of Drezza’s children. The sweet things had realized that she was not only hungry and thirsty, but also the mortal woman the Goblin King had sent scouts to find.

Now, you have to understand. Within the Goblin Court, you’d be hard-pressed to find a soul that actually revered or even liked their King. Hell, they hadn’t particularly liked their last dozen Kings! Might makes Right in the Court of Goblins, so one of the most popular ways for anyone to gain power is to kill a more powerful being than themselves and assume their title.

The worst thing is? It's an arcane issue. It doesn't matter if the courtiers and subjects of the Court despise whoever holds the title of Goblin King, no matter how this so-called King drags their Court’s reputation through the mud unless one of them can defeat him? There's nothing they can do to strip the Court-given powers from him. As much as they hated to admit it, the current Goblin King was very powerful.

And if the smoke signal from the outermost of the village's farms was correct, he was on his way here.

#:3 #Brave and Loyal Knight AU

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