#but even half-coherent as this probably is right now i hope you enjoy! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tathrin · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! How does a pirate au with gigolas sound?

From this prompt-meme.

Oh definitely not like something that's been slowly simmering in the back of my mind ever since I first saw this thing months ago.

We're going with a sort of East India Trading Company/Golden Age of Piracy era-mythos for our vibes, and a world that has less magic and epic battles to its history than Middle-earth for our setting, but one that still has our various fantasy species running around.

Númenor is sort of like an England/America hybrid, in that it's a newer land than the main continent, very expansionist/colonialist in attitude, and simultaneously an old power, because it has a bunch of colonies on the old continent now, and a belligerent attitude towards everyone else. They are the largest sea-power and like to claim even more dominion than they actually have.

Meanwhile to the south-west of them we have the islands of the Teleri (Eressëa) which are widely described as "the last free elven isles," and mainly stay that that by being A: not enough trouble to conquer and B: too much trouble to conquer. They keep to themselves (and their waters shrink a little more each year as Númenor keeps pressing in) so no one feels inspired to deal with them, and there's a lot of risk to trying to because water gets weird around those islands. Lots of shipwrecks, lots of strange creature in the waves. (The Teleri get some sort of mingled siren/kraken vibes here.) The eastern elves tell stories of a farther island beyond theirs, where no mortals have ever gone; where the seas themselves are sundered so as to protect their inhabitants from all encroachment...but more people these days know those are just fairy tales. There is no Western Shore; there are no Undying Lands. That's all just old sailors' stories and superstitions.

Anyway, Middle-earth itself: very old-school Europe vibes going on here, with lots of little kingdoms always sniping at one another for advantage, and whose power-balance has been kind of skewed by the Númenorian Colonies of Gondor and Arnor—really not colonies anymore at this point, because Númenor looked back east generations ago and decided to return to their ancestral homeland and claim it again farther back than any living mortal can remember. That doesn't stop Númenor from treating them like colonies still, which Denethor, the current ruling steward, isn't thrilled by. His people are more torn on the issue, with half of them liking the regalness of being Númenorian and the other half resentful at not being able to rule themselves. They even had a king once, for a few generations, but that collapsed during the civil wars called the Kinstrife, which were rumored to have been instigated by Númenor itself, although no one was ever able to prove that. There are rumors that an heir escaped the slaughter (Anastasia vibes!) but no one has been able to find proof of that. It may be no more than a pretty story. At any rate, no king has been seen in Gondor for generations.

Beyond the colonies of Gondor and Arnor, Númenor has other strong allies on the continent as well: Erebor, for one. The dwarves of the Lonely Mountains were driven from their home by the last of the dragons long ago, and the deal that their king made to acquire Númenorian assistance for taking it back from Smaug left the dwarves more indebted to the Númenorians than they intended. If only they could have found the Arkenstone, and been able to buy Númenor off with that the way they had planned...but if the Arkenstone was ever among Smaug's horde, it must have vanished at some point before the siege. (Some dwarves insist that it was there, had to have been there; and the only way it could be gone was if Númenor betrayed their word and burgled it when the dwarves' backs were turned—but that is a claim they cannot prove, alas, and so they must live with their debts to the White Island.) Erebor's might is more of craft than warfare, but those crafts have been put to good work on behalf of Númenor's military, and their armies are now the best-outfitted in the world, thanks to Ereborian smith-craft and manufacturing. They are allies far too valuable for Númenor to ever give up, no matter how richly they repay that debt.

As for the elven-lands, perhaps the most notable is the smallest: Rivendell. Founded by the brother of the First King of Númenor, Rivendell occupies a unique place in Númenorian headspace: it is deeply respected, but also looked down on a little. Elrond was clearly the lesser brother, choosing a life of lore and healing over the leadership that should have been in his blood; and yet, he is known for that wisdom, and his healing arts have saved many lives. He sails to Númenor occasionally to share his knowledge with their healers (although less often with each century) and to walk the lands where his brother once lived and died, and he is well-loved there...but they prefer the legend of Elrond to the reality, and their leaders more and more often welcome him with strained smiles than they do with open ones. Elrond will not participate in any endeavour which would lead to war, and the suffering that comes from such conflict; that does not mean that he approves of Númenors politics in these days of domination, and while he is always polite and respectful, he does not hesitate to offer its rulers his true opinions and advice.

They don't really care for that. But he is Elros's brother, so they force smiles and grateful platitudes, and then try and bundle him back onto his ship and off to his lovely but insignificant little valley as quickly as possible, and try to think about him and his dour warnings as little as they can when he's not around.

Mirkwood is the largest elven-kingdom, and the only one these days that truly counts as a kingdom. The lords of Númenor aren't keen on such a large nation existing without paying even lip-service allegiance to them, but on the other hand...does anyone really want alliance with Mirkwood? It's a terrible place, dark and dour and full of monsters. The elves there aren't like other elves; they're less wise, less refined...more dangerous. Feral, almost. There are rumors that—well, really it would be easier to compile the stories that aren't told about Mirkwood than to start listing all the ones that are. Death lives in those black trees. Even the water is dangerous to drink, more likely to cast you into a hundred years of dreams than to refresh your thirst. There are spiders in there the size of horses, deer with all their bones on the outside of their skin, squirrels that are venomous and moths that suck your blood. It is said that if you hear laughter in those trees, you might as well slit your own throat before the merry sound dies because you'll never escape the terrible, laughing things that hunt there. The stories even say that there are ghosts in those woods, wandering the south lands by the ruined citadel that towers over those gnarled black trees.

No one sane would live in Mirkwood. No one sane would even set foot in Mirkwood. No one sane should want anything to do with Mirkwood—and Númenor does not. Even the Daleman, known for being provincial weirdos, know better than to actually go into those black trees, even if they're deranged enough to trade goods with the elves that lurk there. Well, let them; and on their own heads be it when the wicked elvenking leads his people out for a feast of man-flesh!

(Some of the stories are true, but even the other elf-lords no longer know how many. Mirkwood has done far too good a job of spreading those terrible tales for anyone—maybe even them, sometimes—to remember which are false, and which are real. Even other elves steer-clear of those black trees, these days.)

The last elven-realm, Lothlórien, is something of an outlier among all the lands of Middle-earth: it is a small realm, which neither offers nor seeks trade or commerce with others, and yet which wields an outsize power in the affairs of greater nations. Lórien is a land of lore and mysteries, and it is said that the elf-witch who rules those golden trees can read a man's secrets merely by glancing at his eyes. Númenor wishes no war with the eerie elves of Lothlórien. Lady Galadriel is consequently invited to every grand affair of state, and never ever wanted there. Sometimes she attends (likely just to remind Númenor that she is real, and should not be trifled with) but mostly she stays in her trees, whispered about yet unseen.

As for the other lands of Middle-earth, many of them are tired of being to some degree under Númenor's heel, but not to the point of daring to risk open war against them. They all remember what happened to Eregion when Ost-in-Edhil's smith-lords though to oppose Númenorian domination.

Now, the world has settled into a sort of tense peace, where nation-states fight through commerce rather than the battlefield, and use their armies more for posturing and prestige than actual warfare.

Into this world, enter the pirates.

Númenor's domination of the sea has not gone unopposed. Círdan long defied them, until they sent their entire navy against him, landing soldiers to crush the Havens and take him and his lords prisoner back to Númenor for trial and punishment—but though the Havens fell, Círdan was not found there. Some say that he and all those closest to him were slaughtered, and Númenor covered it up; others say that he managed to slips their nets and sail West, and find the promised shores beyond the islands of the Teleri; still others say he is on those oceans still, hurrying Númenors ships as a rebel captain of a small pirate fleet. Whenever a ship fails to return to harbor, there are whispers that it fell to Círdan's rebels...but more likely it was claimed by waves and weather.

Probably.

The stories spread anyway, and those who sought to defy Númenor's will listened, and so they began too to seek the sea. Small, single pirate ships are no material threat to Númenor: their navy is too large for the sacking or disappearance of a few ships here and there to make any difference to them. But the stories of pirates being able to defy their might and slip away free of consequence...well, that might have more lasting repercussions. Certainly Númenor's leaders must think so, for they have devoted quite an undo amount of effort to hunting down and destroying these pests otherwise. Unless, of course, one believes the rumors that Gondor's lost heir is out there somewhere amongst the pirates, capable at any moment of returning and staking his claim to the throne—a claim which, thanks to the faltering and intermingling of generations since, gives him actually the most direct claim not only to the throne of Gondor but to Númenor itself, now that the line of the founding kings has broken so many times...provided such an heir even exists of course, which he does not.

Clearly.

And now, it's finally time to turn to our cast of characters: the good ship Fellowship was originally a merchant vessel, sailing the waves on behalf of the wealthy Took family. Hobbits do not go to sea very often themselves, but they appreciate life's comforts enough to finance ocean-going vessels, and are quite happy to pay the necessary tariffs to Númenor to have their protection on the waves, and there are always Men in Bree who are happy to sail on Hobbit ships (the rations they provide are always much nicer than you get on any other vessel!). Old Bilbo was one of the rare Hobbits who actually followed his sense of adventure all the way out to the waves, and was captain of the Fellowship in deed as well as name, and when his nephew was old enough he brought young Frodo along with him.

(Every gossip in the Shire said they would both come to a bad end, drowning just like Frodo's parents did; but even the sneering Sackville-Bagginses never expected pirates!)

For many years, the Fellowship went about its trade-routes quite respectably, causing no trouble and earning no malice. But then...well, the trouble started with that fellow called Strider. He was one of many sailors who signed-on from Bree one day, and should have been no more special than any of them. But there was something about him that always seemed a little disreputable, a little dangerous—and so it soon proved.

No one back on shore is quite sure how it happened. The nearest anyone has been able to piece the story together is that there was some sort of shipwreck, or a raft that escaped a shipwreck, and there was something on it—some chest or treasure. Whatever it was, it proved to be too much temptation for the sailors of the Fellowship. Instead of making a quick salvage of the wreckage and continuing on their way, they abandoned their course and their cargo's intended destination, and went from being respectable merchants to pirates.

Old Bilbo (who had retired some years ago) was scandalized, of course; positively scandalized. But of course, Bilbo had always been something of a scandal himself, and there were far too many suspicious eyes on him after everything went south. He sold Bag End, packed up his things, and disappeared from the Shire three weeks after the first wanted-for-piracy posters of his nephew went up. Rumor has it he went to Rivendell, but no one from Hobbitton has ever gone after him to check; Hobbits don't generally care for travel, and Rivendell is such a long was away. Must more pleasant to stay home by the fire, and gossip.

And gossip folk do, and not only in the Shire. Stories of the Fellowship quickly came to spread far beyond Hobbit-lands, and they got bigger as they went. Soon it was being said that Strider was not just a brigand, but a romantic scoundrel too, who had managed to steal the heart of Elrond's daughter before running away to sea before her brothers could revenge themselves upon him. He had a magic ring, which he had used to enthrall Frodo, and declare himself captain of the boat. He had a magic sword, which could break itself into pieces as short as a dagger and then reforge itself as long as a boathook at need. He had elf-blood, and was decades older than he looked. He had served in Gondor's army, and in Rohan's, and had learned healing from Elrond himself. He was one of the Rangers, the secretive wanderers that spread rumors against Númenor and hunted for treasure and forgotten beasts in the wilds.

The more outlandish stories even claimed that he was that lost heir, and his real name was Aragorn or Arathorn or something of that sort. Nonsense, of course—but nonsense that Númenor wasn't happy to hear being whispered up and down the Misty Mountains.

Their displeasure grew when word began to spread of Strider's companions: Frodo somehow recruited three of his friends to the ship (Hobbits at sea! What were the youth coming to?) but he had arranged for one of their more land-locked fellows to act as a blackmarket middle-man, passing coin and supplies and information back and forth between Bree and the boat. Fredagar Bolger was soon caught and arrested, but someone broke him out of prison before his trial could begin, and he disappeared as thoroughly as Bilbo had. (Rumors said that the Brandybuck and Took families had helped in that jail-break, for two of their own were among Frodo's crew, but no one could ever prove that; indeed, no one who had been on duty at the jail that night reported seeing anything. Fredagar had been there when they went to sleep; the next morning, he had been gone, and no one ever saw him in Hobbiton again.)

Even more outlandish than the idea of four Hobbits at sea, the stories insisted that they had a dwarf on the ship as well. Everyone knew that dwarves hated boats, and feared the ocean; everyone knew that a dwarf would sooner shave his beard than go to sea. Nonetheless, the stories persisted: the Fellowship had a dwarf. Rumor claimed that he was a disgruntled son of Erebor, who had joined Strider's band of pirates out of disgust for the debt that Númenor held over the Lonely Mountain; others insisted that his father had been friends with Bilbo (in addition to his other oddities, Bilbo had been known to have friends among the dwarves, somehow!) and that it was Frodo who had somehow coaxed a dwarf away from land and out to sea. Whatever the motivations that had brought that dwarf to the Fellowship, there was soon no denying that he was there: only dwarven craftmanship could have kept that ship afloat through all of Númenor's efforts to sink it, and sailing faster than any of their own vessels could follow.

In addition to the dwarf, there was an elf among the crew as well. A less absurd notion on the surface, but strange when one dug-down to the details, for this was no Teleri; nor was he even one of the elves of the Havens, or from Rivendell. No, this was a Wood-elf of Mirkwood, one of those half-feral creatures of death and shadow and knives in the dark. His eyes were keener than any looking-glass that Númenor could fashion, and he could see as clearly in the starlight as men could under bright sun. With those elven eyes in their crow's nest, there was no chance that the Fellowship could ever be sneaked-up upon again; and those who survived attacks by Strider's pirates told stories of his terrible bright laughter echoing across the waves like the ringing of doom-bells in their dreams.

(There was surely, surely no truth to the rumor that the elf and the dwarf were any more than grudging crew-mates; elves and dwarves were notoriously distrustful of one another's people, and since Eregion's fall there had been no sign of reconciliation or camaraderie between any of their kind again. The sailors who reported that the two had been heard cheerfully competing like friends during the battles taking Númenorian ships were mistaken; the ones who claimed that they had witnessed victory-kisses were suffering from sunstroke; and the shaken survivors who whispered that the elf had lost his mind and slaughtered an entire crew himself when one of their number managed to wound the dwarf were surely just suffering from shock. No single elf, not even a Mirkwood elf, could slay an entire contingent of Númenorian soldiers like that; and no elf would ever be spurred to do such a thing for a mere dwarf. These stories were just one of Strider's many attempts to undermine Númenorian rule, by attempting to foster an alliance between Erebor and Mirkwood based on ridiculous false rumors about the joining of two of their people. Such things simply did not happen.)

The worst of the Fellowship's many assaults upon Númenorian sea-supremacy was when they took a ship that had been carrying Rohan's princess out to make a state-marriage on the White Island. The rest of the Rohirrim they let go, including the king's nephew, whom one might have expected them to hold for ransom; instead they took only the girl, and no ransom demand ever came back for her. Indeed, rumors soon began to whisper that she had been somehow seduced to Strider's crew as well, and could be seen with a cutlass in one hand and her fair hair streaming in the salt-air, a fell smile on her face, whenever the Fellowship boarded their prey, her own unfettered laughter ringing out alongside the elf's deadly merriment.

That was a crime too far. Númenor needed to stop Strider's pirates, and stop them now. Gondor dispatched two of her own to go to sea and hunt him and the Fellowship down: Boromir and Faramir, sons of the Steward and noble warriors of stout heart and stalwart arms. Everyone assumed that that would be the end of the Fellowship, for no pirate had yet escaped bold Boromir, and Faramir's cunning wits would surely be enough to outsmart some ragged Ranger. For months they pursued the pirate vessel, chasing the Fellowship through storm and fog and sun-kissed waves; then, far off the coast of the Teleri islands, a hurricane rolled in, and both ships were lost from sight behind the grey rainclouds.

Imagine Denethor's fury, and Númenor's wrath, when the next stories that came back from the sea told of how bold Boromir and cunning Faramir had joined the terrible crew...

16 notes · View notes

bedtimescenarios · 4 months ago

Note

Please write more mind control whump your piece on it was so good

Thank you so much!! Here you go, hope you enjoy! Mind control is so messed up but so fun to write :))

Lillies

CW: manhandling (brief), non-con touch (not sexual), intimate Whumper, mind control and all the autonomous restrictions that come with it

A pained yelp escapes Whumpee's throat as they're practically thrown inside the room by the hair. They stumble to the ground, head instantly perking upward, just in time to notice Whumper's sharp grin widen. They're well aware of the fact that Whumper could've simply made them go back, yet, to their exasperation, Whumper sometimes prefers manhandling them instead. Perks of having a choice.

As Whumpee nearly bumps into a foot of the luxurious bed in the middle of the room, Whumper calmly steps forward, the smile slowly fading as they speak.

"Oh, Whumpee, what were you doing just now?" their voice resounds, impossibly melodic. It takes everything in Whumpee not to flinch as they take another step towards them, dark eyes scanning the smaller form as if they were a lamb set for slaughter.

The gate was unlocked. Did they truly expect them not to take the chance? To not run from this harrowing paradise they've been trapped inside of for... how long has it been again? Whumpee knows their mind is fucked now, but they don't feel like making matters worse in the moment. As much as they try to remain coherent in finding an excuse, they stammer under Whumper's gaze. They absolutely hate it, how the thought of Whumper's abilities alone makes them shiver. "I didn't try anything- I swear, I was just-"

"I gave you certain privileges, Whumpee." They interrupt, tone calm and composed. With their eyebrows slightly raised, forming a small crease in the middle, they give the impression of scolding a child. "You're making me regret trusting you with them."

Whumpee has to physically keep themselves from scoffing. Privileges, right. As in basic personal autonomy. Being able to use their own body has recently become a reward instead of a guarantee. If they could just reach out, stuff Whumper's mouth with a gag and wipe that grin off their face-

Whumper raises an eyebrow, seemingly amused. "That's not a very nice thing to say." They pause, seemingly contemplating their words for a second before correcting themselves. "Or think."

Whumpee's eyes shut tightly, and they bite back a snarky remark, attempting to also wipe it from their mind. While Whumper chuckles, they gather their thoughts. "Look- I was just in the garden, tending to the lillies, nothing else."

Whumper tsks, taking a step so sudden that Whumpee can't help but shrink back. A hint of a smile crosses their face at the sight, and they kneel down next to Whumpee. They reach out a hand, and Whumpee half expects all their thoughts to vanish. Surprisingly, they simply run their fingers through their hair, untangling it with an uncanny gentleness. A moment of silence passes, one that feels like ages to Whumpee. As a stray strand of hair is neatly tucked away from their face, and the hand rests lightly on their cheek, Whumpee's instincts overcome them and they speak up.

"I won't try to leave again, I promise. Just don't-"

"Don't what, Whumpee?" Whumper coos, their thumb brushing against Whumpee's freckles. "Don't melt your pretty brain, make all the thoughts in it evaporate? Don't mould you into the Whumpee that nuzzles their head against my neck and smiles whenever I hand them a flower?"

Whumpee's eyes flicker. These blackouts they experience- the stretches where they’re aware one moment but wake up weeks later- have only been described to them by Whumper. The possibility, or rather the probability, that Whumper is telling the truth is gnawing away at them. They absolutely dread it- being mindless again and not even conscious enough to remember, let alone retaliate.

"That's not me, and you know it." They tilt their head, their tone slightly passive aggressive, yet laced with fear. Still, Whumper doesn't seem to mind.

"Oh, but it is. I know it's hard to admit it, Whumpee, especially since you've never witnessed any of it." They pause, eyes studying them closely, and the expression that flashes across their face is one Whumpee can't identify. It makes their hair stand on end.

"Perhaps I should let you."

When Whumper leans back on their knees, picks a flower from the decorated vase on the edge of the table and reaches for their hand, Whumpee flinches back. Whumper's mouth curls upwards into a soft smile, and they gently pull one of Whumpee's clenched hands open, placing their own on top. As Whumpee tries to shift away, their grip tightens.

"You should know by now there's no point in fighting me."

That's the cue for a blackout, Whumpee thinks. Their heart skips a beat as they don't. Instead, the dull room seems to brighten, a caleidoscopic mix of sun rays and soft, hued particles of dust. They surround Whumpee like stars, expanding magnificently until they all gather around the still smiling figure in front of them. Whumper's eyes seem to gleam, and Whumpee notices for the first time just how sage flecks are splattered across their brown irises, how their dark hair glows in tints of red in the sun... No. no, no.

When Whumper hands them the flower, they want to smack their hand away, yet their body takes it. Their mouth curls into a smile, and they thank Whumper, their body leaning forward and arms wrapping around Whumper. They want to scream as they feel the embrace tighten. Let me go, Whumpee thinks. And Whumper hears it, Whumpee's certain, as they see a hint of a grin on their face as they pull back.

"You're welcome, Whumpee."

Whumpee's stomach churns- or is it just their mind wishing it could?- when they're pulled to their feet by the hand and they smile wider at their captor. Let me go, they repeat in their mind, but their body doesn't say it. Their body keeps their fingers intertwined with Whumper's, thumb brushing against their knuckles.

"This is my home. Thank you for making me realize it." Their mouth says, and they wish they'd settled for the blackouts.

"You're such a sweetheart," Whumper murmurs. "Let's continue tending to the lillies together."

#whump #whump ideas #whump prompt #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #intimate whumper #whump blog #whump writing #defiant whumpee #mind control #mind control whump #creepy whumper #ask #request #recapture #in a way

120 notes · View notes

albertasunrise · 1 year ago

Text

Reality Check - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (So... I am trying to update my other pics but the reaction I getting from this ones really giving me the motivation to continue it... so thank you and I hope you enjoy this update! ♥️ It's not a super long one but everything gonna become clear I promise!)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

“What do you mean I can’t see him right now?” You demanded, glancing down at Emse as you awaited a response from the doctor.

“He has been in a natural coma for a month and a half. It's going to take him a while before he’s even a little coherent. We also want to monitor him closely over the next few hours. He might be awake but he’s not out of the woods yet!” The doctor stated plainly “I know you want to see him but overwhelming him this soon after he’s woken up and suffered a cardiac arrest is not going to help with his recovery.” The doctor continued, giving your arm a gentle squeeze “If all goes well, you can see him tomorrow.”

You nodded to show your understanding and then looked at Ben. He looked as frustrated as you felt but you didn’t want to do anything that could risk his recovery. This was all just so difficult to get your head around.

Your near-death from Esme’s birth, to waking up to learn Frankie had had another major heart attack and was on life support until a heart came available, had been hard to come to terms with. It had been hard to navigate parenthood without him but then it had probably been the same for him at first.

But, as hard as this had been for you. How desperate you’d been for him to get better and wake up. It had hit Ben the hardest.

6 weeks earlier…

Ben opened the front door to Frank’s house and was immediately greeted by Emse’s screams.

“Fish?” He called out as stepped into the dimly lit house.

When he had received a text from Frankie earlier to say he’s broken up with Mary, Ben had initially been over the moon. But after he’d finished his celebrations, he thought he should probably check on Frankie. The man had cared for Mary after all. So that’s what led Ben to come over. And after knocking a few times a receiving no answer, he let himself in. Not something that was overly unusual.

What was unusual was to receive no answer from the pilot and to hear Esme screaming. Fish had been a dedicated father from the moment he had brought her home. Something was wrong.

“Fish?” He called again as he scaled the stairs, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of his friend.

He came to a stop outside Frankie’s door, Esme’s screams were the loudest from inside and he didn’t even bother knocking. Either Frank was dead asleep or…

He didn’t wanna consider the alternative.

��FISH!!” He yelled upon finding his friend on the floor.

Frankie was sprawled on the floor, on his front with his head to one side. Eyes barely open. Esmerelda was on the floor beside him however looked to be unharmed. Clearly, Frank had managed to put her down gently as he collapsed.

Ben felt for a pulse and found one. It was weak but it was there. So, he scooped the baby up and lay her in the Moses basket in the corner before returning his attention to Fish, moving him so that he was laying on his back before pulling out his phone and dialling 911.

He spoke as calmly to the operator as he could whilst monitoring the pilot’s pulse and breathing. Putting the phone on loudspeaker and starting compressions the moment Frankie stopped breathing.

“Come on man… don’t do this to me.” Ben sobbed as he worked tirelessly to get his friend breathing again “Don’t leave Titch and Esme man…” Benny begged, “Don’t leave me!”

Finally, just as the paramedics arrived, Frank took a weak breath and then the rest was a blur. Ben called Will and told him to get to the hospital before attending to the crying baby beside him. He didn’t go in the ambulance. He knew he needed to get Esme fed and changed first. But as soon as that was done he had the baby bag packed and he was gone. Praying he wouldn’t be greeted by the news that he’d lost his best friend.

Present day…

Benny chewed nervously at his thumbnail as he waited for his friend to wake up. The doctors had lightly sedated him when he had grown more confused as he'd come to. That had been a little over twelve hours ago. Ben had waited at the hospital, sending you home with Esme and promising to ring you the moment he woke up.

Then three hours ago he was finally allowed to see Fish. The doctors had decided that it would be good for him to see a friendly face as he came to. So He sat and waited patiently for his best friend to come to. His nails taking a beating from how on end his nerves were.

A soft whimper grabbed his attention and Ben was on his feet in an instant, clutching Frankie's hand as he smiled sweetly at his waking companion.

"You with my Fishcake?" He asked softly, grinning like a loon when Frank weakly nodded, his eyes cracking open and revealing slivers of those brown orbs Ben had missed so much "Take it easy buddy. I'm here."

Frankie lugged his way to consciousness. It felt like he was walking through treacle. His limbs were heavy and his head filled with cottonwool yet slowly but surely, things got lighter and clearer. Ben waited patiently at his side. Watching as he grew more and more aware as each minute slugged by.

"Welcome back brother." He said as Frankie finally cracked his eyes open fully and rolled his head to look at him "You gave us a scare."

"I..." Frankie trailed off as his brows drew together, the memories of what happened slithering back through.

You, standing there smiling with your outstretched hand. Pleading for him to return to you. Then the lights. The blinding lights and the pain as the car struck him. He was going to see you again. He was supposed to die.

The sound of his heart rate increasing made Benny call out for help, tears in his eyes as he feared that his friend might code again.

"Mr Morales, you need to calm down." Urged the doctor as they noted his vitals "This isn't good for you."

"Why." Frankie sobbed as he started to thrash in the bed "I should have died."

"Fish, what do you-"

"I was going to see her again." He sobbed.

"Who, Mel?" Benny asked as he stepped to his friend's side and clutched his hand, hoping to ground his friend "Frankie, Mel's gone."

"I was going to see Titch." He all but whispered "I was going back to her."

This made Benny pause. His brows pulled together in confusion at what his friend had just said. What did he mean he was 'going back to her'?

"What do you mean Fish?"

"Sir, I think you need to leave." The doctor urged, a nurse then pulling the man from the room so that the doctors could do their work. But he didn't leave the doorway of Frank's room.

"Mr Morales, do you know where you are?" The doctor asked but Frankie didn't answer, he just continued to sob and his heart monitor continued to chime "Mr Morales, you're in the hospital." The doctor stated "You suffered a massive heart attack. You had a heart transplant but fell into a coma. You have been out for almost two months."

"No... No, I was hit by a car." Frankie choked "I should have died... I... I wanted to see her again."

Benny's heart broke as he listened to his friend.

"You weren't hit by a car Mr Morales." The doctor urged, his head snapped to the nurse to his left and giving her a nod.

"You're lying."

The nurse then injected something into Frankie's IV and the man's thrashing grew sluggish. Ben could see from where he was standing that his friend's eyes were starting to grow heavy and in a manner of seconds, the room was all most silent again. Slowly but surely the medical staff started to file out, the doctor stopping beside Ben with an unreadable expression on his face.

Ben waited patiently for the man to speak, his heart pounding against his ribs as his eyes flitted between Fish and his doctor.

"What happened Doc?" Ben asked, his voice soft and vulnerable.

"He appears to be confused.' The doctor started "He... It seems that he experienced some sort of vivid dream when he was in his coma. He is convinced he was hit by a car."

"What can we do?"

"I think the best thing to do is keep him mildly sedated for now. Just to keep him calm until he gets his head around what actually happened to him." The man said as he scrapped a large hand over his stubbled jaw "He can't afford to get worked up like that again. His heart is still in a fragile state."

"Do you think seeing his daughter might help?" Benny asked and the doctor nodded.

"Sure. Anything positive like that should help him relax."

Benny nodded, giving the doctor a weak smile as his eyes zoned in on his friend.

"Thanks, doc."

"He'll be out for a few hours." The man said as he placed a friendly hand on Ben's arm "Get a coffee and something to eat. You're no good to him if you're not taking care of yourself."

...

Your heart leapt out of your chest as your phone started to ring loudly from the table beside you. Noting Ben's name on the screen, you answered it immediately as your pulsed raced.

"Ben?"

"He woke up."

"He did?" You choked as you covered your mouth with a shaky hand, trying to smother the sob that threatened to escape your lips.

"He was all confused and shit. Got a bit worked up and they had to sedate him again." Ben said, his voice wobbling as he spoke "They wanna keep him mildly sedated for now. Something about keeping him calm as he comes around. I guess being on pause for nearly two months can screw your brain up a little."

You chuckled at that. Your coma hasn't quite gone on that long but you had certainly been a little confused when you'd woken up.

Six weeks earlier...

Your sensations returned in waves but everything sounded muffled and felt heavy. Your limbs seemed to be made of lead, your fingers were all that seemed to want to obey your commands. The sounds around you were distorted. Almost like you were hearing them from underwater.

You managed to moan, hoping that it would give you a little more control over your body but alas you remained somewhat pinned in place, so you drifted to sleep again in the hopes that when you woke again things would be a little clearer.

...

Benny had wanted to shout from the rooftops when you'd started to show signs of waking up. The past few days had been hell for him. He and Will had split their time between your room and Frankie's. Neither of them wanted to leave either party on their own and when you started to twitch and moan, Benny finally started to feel a semblance of hope. So he clung to that, along with your hand as he waited for you to open your eyes.

That happened three hours later.

"Ben?" Your question was more of a whisper but he heard it all the same.

He placed Esme in her Pram and practically sprinted to your side, smiling sweetly at you as you blinked up at him.

"Hey, you." He said sweetly "Have a nice nap?"

"What happened?" You asked, your voice getting a little stronger but still scratching from weeks of disuse.

Benny grabbed the water bottle from the side table and popped in the straw that had been sitting beside it. Then bringing it to you your lips, he cupped your head and helped you lift it so that you could take soothing sips of the tepid liquid. You held your hand up when you'd had your fill and Benny placed the bottle down with one hand as his other gently lay your head back against the pillow.

"What happened?" You repeated and he sighed, how brow pulling together as he searched for the words.

"You uh... You haemorrhaged." He stated plainly "Pretty bad. It was touch and go for a bit but you fought... Small but mighty." He chuckled as his hand started to stroke your hair "You have been out for a few weeks but you needed the rest."

"Frankie and the baby okay?" This question made Ben's heart shatter. Standing he turned to the pram that was just out of your eye line and scooped up Esme, kissing her little nose when she started to fuss.

"I got little Esme right here." Ben stated as he brought your daughter into view and you sobbed at the sight of her. A head of brown hair and the cutest little plump cheeks.

"Oh, my angel." You choked as you press the button on your bed so that you were more upright, accepting your daughter into your waiting arms with a smile "Oh look at you." You cooed, memorising everything about her "You look just like your Papi." You chuckled as you looked at Ben and beamed "Where is Fish?"

Ben's expression grew solemn again and there was no hiding it from you now.

"Ben?... Where is Francisco?" You pushed and he sobbed.

"He's um... He's here."

"Where?"

"Titch?" He pleaded but you needed an answer.

"Benny... Tell me where he is!"

"He uh... He suffered a massive heart attack." Ben started, his eyes settling on Esme as she slept in your arms "They uh... They got him on life support. Waitin' for a heart."

"No..." You trailed off, tears flowing freely as you looked down you your daughter, envious of how clueless she was to all this.

"He'll die without one."

"No." You sobbed harder, your head dropping as you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself fall apart "We were supposed to do this together." You cried "We were supposed to be a family."

Present day...

You arrived at the hospital as soon as you could. You'd thrown a bag together for Esme, grabbed her pram and left, desperate to see Frankie awake.

His room was empty when you arrived. You looked around, trying to catch sight of him but coming up blank. He must've gone to get coffee. You pushed Esme's pram into Franks's room, tucking it in the corner so it didn't get in the way and then you took your place at Frankie's side. You didn't have to wait long for him to wake.

He was sluggish, his eyes fluttering open and closed for a while. The sedatives were making it hard for him to surface.

"That's it, Frankie." You said softly as you squeezed his hand and smiled sweetly at him "Come back to me."

This statement was like a bucket of ice water over Frankie's head. His head snapped towards you and his eyes filled with tears as he seemed to study every inch of your face.

"Titch." He choked, blinking furiously in an attempt to keep himself awake and you nodded.

"That's right, just come back to me my Frankie."

"I tried." He choked and you grew confused "I'm so sorry Titch." He sobbed and you stepped back as a hand pulled you away from him "Why won't you leave me be."

"Frankie-"

"Just leave me alone." He cried "Please..."

You turned on your heel and practically sprinted towards the door, colliding with Ben's solid chest. He scooped Esme up with practised ease with one arm and led you out the room with the other, leaving the doctors and nurses to work Franky.

"He... I don't..." You can't find the words, too heartbroken to string a coherent sentence together so Ben just holds you till you calm down. Giving himself a chance to figure out how was going to tell you what he needed to.

"Titch... There's uh... Well, there's something you should know." He said when your cries finally quietened "Fish he uh... Well, it seems like he experienced a pretty vivid dream in his coma."

You looked up at him with a bemused expression, head tilting to one side as you waited for him to continue.

"When he woke up, he was rambling about getting hit by a car." He continued "I guess that's what he'd dreamt just before he woke up."

"What are you trying to tell me, Ben?" You pushed and Ben let out a long sigh as he looked down at Esme in his arm.

"Frankie thinks you're uh... Well, he-"

"Spit it out, Ben." You grumbled, unable to take the suspense any longer.

"He thinks you're dead."

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#frankie morales × reader #frankie morales × you #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales triple frontier #francisco morales triple frontier #francisco morales × you #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales #francisco morales × reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier × reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

205 notes · View notes

coraniaid · 1 year ago

Note

You said a few days ago that you would have liked if season 7 went more in the direction of Help rather than the direction of the First. I know you're not a big fan of the First but I was wondering what you meant by that specifically, and what kind of direction you might have preferred season 7 go in overall?

I don’t have any good reason to think it actually happened, but I always get the impression from watching or thinking about Season 7 that the early plans for the season changed pretty significantly at some point after most of the first few episodes had already been written. (Perhaps when they decided that it would also be the last season? I’ve heard conflicting accounts of when that decision was made.)

If you go back and look at the then-contemporary discussions of the show, the whole season was initially marketed as something of a ‘year zero��: a return to the show’s high school era roots, to something much more upbeat than Season 6, to the original Scooby Gang as the focus of the show.

And just to be clear, I rather like Season 6 – it doesn’t always work, and I think some of the subplots are pretty dreadfully executed, and sometimes I respect the episodes more than I enjoy watching them – but it inarguably has a clear vision for the story it’s trying to tell, one that builds on and recontextualizes what came before it. But for the payoff for that season to land, we needed Season 7 to be different. To be less cynical, more hopeful. It needed to show us that Buffy was right to promise Dawn in Grave that things were going to get better.

And that sort of reset is what we got … for about half a dozen episodes. Then, of course, it goes rather horribly wrong.

I like Help in particular because it is, for me, the closest the show ever gets to delivering on that promise of a return to the high school era. It’s not quite a regression or a soft reboot: Buffy is still an adult with a job, even if she’s suddenly unexpectedly back in high school. Her more mundane responsibilities haven’t suddenly gone away. But now the job she has isn’t something she hates but has to do – it’s something that she actually has a calling for, almost literally, something that harks back to her getting the Class Protector award back in Season 3. In Help Buffy’s inhabiting the same world she did in the first three seasons, she’s still trying to save people, but this time with a new, more experienced perspective.

The episode feels very aware of the show’s history, too. There are nods to Lie To Me (a teenager Buffy knows is going to die because of illness, not anything supernatural Buffy can stop) and Reptile Boy (the cult trying to sacrifice a teenage girl to a demon for material riches) and Beauty and the Beasts (with Buffy herself taking on the role of Mr Platt, worried that Mike is going to turn out to be another Pete), and of course the whole episode is a callback to Prophecy Girl. Because Cassie – probably the show’s last great one-episode character (and yes, the actor comes back later but the person doesn’t) – isn’t just somebody Buffy is trying to save, she is Buffy: a Season 1 Buffy who struggles to make friends and has a supernatural gift she doesn’t like to talk about and knows she’s going to die heartbreakingly young. I don’t think it’s merely chance that Cassie’s big speech to Buffy about her destiny (“You think I want this? You think I don’t care?”) echoes Buffy’s own words to her mother in Becoming either (“You think I choose to be like this?”).

Plus, while the episode ties into the wider story arc – with Spike in the basement and hints that Principal Wood might be up to something and our first appearance of future Potential Amanda – the whole thing still tells a coherent, self-contained story. It stands on its own right; it makes sense on its own terms. it’s not just another installment in the long running saga of General Buffy and the friends she never talks to who later kick her out of the house she owns.

And I think there was a lot more ground there to explore, in the same vein as Help. At least a full season’s worth. There was so much more the show could have tried to do in terms of going back and revisiting some of the classic moments of the first three seasons from a more mature and more grown-up perspective, instead of summarily kicking Buffy out of her new job and then blowing the school up (again). If this season is about the future – about new Slayers being called, one way or another – then what does that mean? How else are Buffy and Willow and Xander engaged in the challenge of trying to pass on what they’ve learned about life on the Hellmouth to a new generation?

At its best, Buffy has always been in conversation with its past, building on ideas that were touched on in one season and asking the audience to think about them again from a different angle. And the beginning of Season 7 sets up the perfect stage to try to do more of that.

I’d have loved to have seen a whole season of Buffy trying to keep her students alive while also preparing them to go out and live in the world. Of Dawn making new friends and finding value in being herself, not just the Slayer’s sister or the mystical Key. Of Buffy and Willow and Xander really getting to know each other again, and having a chance to talk about everything that happened to them last year. A whole season of, in a way, seeing the show from the very beginning, but this time from the perspective of people like Giles or Jenny or Joyce.

But instead we got a lot of boring wank about an impossibly old super-god who can’t actually touch anything (but one who Buffy would definitely let Dawn die to defeat because this godlike being is so much more impressive and scary than Glory, trust us guys, please, we swear) and her army of interchangeable and personality-free super vampires (and of course Caleb, who’s somehow even more mind-numbingly boring than they are). Instead we get a second half of the season in which Andrew Wells has more screen time than Willow or Xander or Anya or Giles or Dawn. Instead we get to wonder whether Giles is the First and try to pretend to care that Spike has been hypnotized. Instead we get Lies My Parents Told Me.

Oh well. At least Faith shows up near the end.

#btvs #asks #thanks!

127 notes · View notes

lewkwoodnco · 1 year ago

Note

Could you write an anthony lockwood x reader with 'you belong with me' by taylor swift?

You Belong With Me - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: 2.4k, enjoy! Tried my best, hope you like it :)

It was a quiet sort of night. George was shut up in his room as usual, tinkering with his experiments, and Lucy was finishing up a whodunit in the attic. There was nothing to do except sit in the kitchen and snack on marmalade toast while listening to the soft strains from the wheezing radio.

Whatever wailing love song that was playing finally ended, and some commercials started to play. She looked around disinterestedly, tuning out the cheesy advertisements. The door of the kitchen was slightly ajar, and through the gap she spied Lockwood standing at the telephone in the hallway. She couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he looked mildly miffed and seemed to be busy extensively explaining something. He distractedly tugged at his scalp the way he did when he was burdened with a case that never seemed to end, and she almost felt sorry for him, if it weren't for the fact that it didn't take much to annoy Lockwood. She did it all the time.

He hung up the phone with a sigh, shifting out of sight for a moment, before reappearing at the door. He smiled at her and her sticky fingers weakly, rolling his eyes at the radio.

"I don't know why you bother with that beat-up piece of junk. It's been breaking down for years now. Maybe it's time to let it go."

"Are you kidding? Half the fun is positioning it just right." Lockwood shook his head, busying himself with some tea before sitting down opposite to her. She jerked her head towards the door, trying and failing to brush the sweet crumbs coating her fingertips. "Trouble in paradise?"

He laughed ruefully, running his fingers through his hair, as if just thinking about it was enough to make him want to pull at his hair. "No, not exactly. Anna's lovely, of course. It's just that we have different...tastes. She didn't like one of my jokes, I said that it wasn't that serious, and now she won't talk to me."

"Makes sense. Your jokes suck."

"They do not."

"You're the only one who laughs at them."

"You do too!"

"Only because they're so bad!" She trained her eyes on the precious little crumbs left on her plate, as if looking up would be enough to let Lockwood know how much she secretly adored his jokes. "I will say this: they're an acquired taste. I'm sure Anna's great, and all, but she hasn't known you all that long." She frowned into her tea as she took a sip. It was something that wriggled inside her brain from time to time. It took Lockwood a while to trust someone enough to let down his defences, and though she would never say it out loud, she felt as though he had rushed into this a bit too quickly, quicker than he was comfortable. The disparity just didn't reconcile in her mind no matter how she looked at it; it didn't make sense for quiet and unassuming Lockwood to suddenly launch himself headfirst into a relationship with someone he barely knew.

Maybe it was because Anna actually registered as a girl to him. After weeks of drifting through the rooms, looking like a zombie, even during lull periods, she probably didn't look much different to him than George. It wasn't that she didn't like dressing up; they had such little free time and dolling herself up was quite low on her list of hobbies. Anna, on the other hand, was always so put together, so pristine, so likeable, so easy to make substantial conversation with. She loved Anna to bits, but it stung whenever she saw her standing next to Lockwood. They didn't even have to be touching to simply look like a couple.

The commercials faded, and the radio forced out a few crackling notes of a jaunty tune, and the lyrics which accompanied it, at least those of which were decipherable, seemed barely coherent and completely nonsensical. Lockwood laughed, leaning back in his chair, fingers absent-mindedly drumming along to the beat.

"Anna would absolutely hate listening to this."

"It's entertaining!"

"It's nonsense, is what it is."

But in that moment, she just couldn't bring herself to care about what Anna would or wouldn't think. She saw her enough without dwelling on her when she wasn't even there. So what if the music was a little silly and clunky? She was a little silly and clunky herself. And she was having a hard time picking a fight with something that made serious-serious-Lockwood-with-bills-up-to-his-elbows laugh. How did he stand spending so much time with someone as averse to goofiness as Anna? It didn't make any sense to her.

But what did she know? It wasn't like she'd known him for ages and sometimes felt that she knew him better than he knew himself, or could sense when he was feeling down from the other end of the house, or was privy to all his inside jokes. No, that was a completely different girl that just happened to walk and talk exactly like her. But who was she to feel bitter over Lockwood's new beau? Just a starry-eyed employee who hung on his every word, whether she showed it or not.

"I don't get how you listen to this," Lockwood broke her out of her reverie, tapping at the dusty metal as she looked away, face warm over nearly being caught staring at him. "It all sounds the same to me. Like static."

"Not to me," she watched Lockwood swirl his tea, distantly wondering if there was some veil over his eyes that she could just peel back for him to see her as she was: everything he would be looking for. " I know it well. I know it inside out."

Oblivious as ever, Lockwood stared into his tea glumly, half-shrugging as he murmured. "We can get you a new one, if you'd like."

"No thanks. This one's perfect as is."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Lockwood went over to Anna’s in the morning, and when he came back, he was uncharacteristically quiet. He looked like he had a lot on his mind, so she didn’t want to bother him, but she couldn’t restrain herself for long. The Council had hired them for a job in a park, and George had sent the two of them to check out the perimeter to find any information that could be useful.

"I heard you leave in the morning."

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I was at Anna's."

"Everything okay?"

He forced out a laugh. "As okay as it can be, I suppose."

She nodded, feeling the sun beat down on them, burning the back of her neck. Her hair was starting to stick in her forehead and Lockwood's laid limply on his head, making him look even more deflated. It was a sluggish sort of day, too warm for children to be running about, so it was around an empty park that they were dragging their feet. The only people in sight was a group of high-schoolers, and even they seemed to be leaving soon. They decided to take a break on a park bench, watching the teacher anxiously repeat her head-counts.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like. To stay in school, I mean. And...learn. And have anything ghost-related be background noise to...other things in life." He was choosing his words very carefully, but the blankness in his face sounded alarm bells in her head. She straightened, taking on a dry tone.

"I don't think you'd be able to handle it."

"No?"

"So much of you is tied to the paranormal, and some of it must be fate. I'd expect you'd somehow manage to make it your life's purpose anyway."

"How so?"

"I don't know. Ever fight a ghost?"

He choked on his laughter, caught off-guard. "Not yet, no."

"Well, there you go. You'd find a ghost, wind up your fist, and POW! And then you'd open an agency dedicated to knocking the living - er, dying - daylights out of ghosts."

"What if I got ghost touched?"

"Ech, then you'd be insufferable. You'd make it your whole personality and we'd never get rid of you."

His shoulders shook silently and he took a deep breath to calm himself down, only to burst into another fit of giggles. It wasn't easy to get Lockwood to laugh, and a very unique laugh he had - deep, but light at the same time, and it erased the wrinkles on his forehead and corners of his mouth like magic. He was alight with amusement, different from his somewhat stiff and hesitant smile in front of Anna, the kind of smile that made her want to look away, lest she fall in love even harder. She secretly prided herself on being one of the few people who could make him laugh so readily, creating a few moments for herself to unobtrusively memorise the curve of his smile and shine in his eye. It was Lockwood and her, two peas in a pod, who shared the same whisper of breath, whose heartbeats synced. Somehow or the other, they were always meant to be, even as friends; there was little else she knew with such certainty. He was something familiar, something known, a treasure trove of memories untold. He was home.

How long before he moved on to greater things in life? Things which didn't include her? How was she supposed to get up and move on herself? Leave, just like that?

Some clouds had gathered over where they were sitting, and a slight breeze picked up in the still air. Rather than making the park pleasantly cool, she felt a growing sense of unease, unsettled by the anxiety the rushing winds seemed to carry. Lockwood cleared his throat, standing up, glancing at his watch. "We should go. George will be waiting."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was sitting in her room, unseeingly staring at the dust on her floor. The job had gone less than smoothly, and she was stuck in a cycle of reliving flashes of it, the terror that gripped her and the numbness that struck her heart when she saw Lockwood launching himself in between her and the ghost. As if her body knew she wasn't strong enough to handle the shock.

What followed wasn't pretty. She vaguely remembered yelling at Lockwood and maybe shoving him on some ice, but she was too blinded by rage to remember many details. She couldn't remember if he had tried to stop her or say anything in return, but that was just as well: she didn't want to hear a single pathetic excuse as to why he suddenly decided his life was worth less than hers.

She jerked up at the sound of a soft knock at her door. It was Lockwood, still holding his coat in his hand and his sleeves slightly rolled up. He had a Hello Kitty bandage near his hairline, but other than that, he looked just as worn as he did on the way back. Their bedrooms were situated such that Lockwood would pass by on his way to and from the library, and he more often than not stopped to chat about the most menial of topics, even if it was in the middle of the night, as long as she was awake. This visit, however, clearly didn't have that same ease to it. He looked at her hopefully, maybe a little expectantly, but she looked back impassively.

"You alright?" He asked tentatively, faltering under her sharp gaze. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, looking so pitiful that she felt a stab of pity despite herself.

"Look, I didn't realise what I was doing. You looked so scared. I only wanted to help." She finally relented.

"Of course I was scared. I'm always scared. I'm scared that we don't have enough flares, that we underestimated the number of ghosts, that one of them will touch us. But none of that scares me as much as you or your reckless abandon. I know how far you'd risk your neck for us, and I can only hope I'm wrong. If you were touched..." she trailed off, a disturbed silence stretching out in front of both of them. "I don't know if I would be able to live with myself. You belong here," she reached out, wrapping her fingers around Lockwood's with only a dulled sense of panic. "Here, in the real world, with us. With me."

She was tired, so tired, as she closed her eyes, head on his collarbone. "I know you like the back of my hand, Lockwood. You're always the first one out the door on every single one of our suicide missions, but there's something quieter under all that bravado. A craving for peace." She blinked back tears she didn't realise were there, breath shallow. "And I hope you find it. I hope you find it in time."

They sat like that for a while, her forehead gently resting on the side of his cheekbone, both of their visions adjacent to each other. Lockwood's heart pulsed through his veins but all she remembered was the sticky stagnance that cemented them, as if they were slowly drifting towards their doom. She would never open her heart to anyone else, and he would never change his ways, and they would wonder why they were heartbroken as they grew old together. She saw a tear land on his dusty white shirt, and her remaining resolve to hold herself together dissolved.

"It's just...we have so little. I want even less. I just want to spend the rest of my days fighting ghosts and listening to a crappy radio with you. Is that too much to ask for?"

He inhaled shakily, and she held his wrist to steady him. He was silent for a while before he responded.

"I wasn't completely honest before. Anna and I...we ended things. And I was having a lot of thoughts about whether or not I did the right thing. Whether I really was too blind to see what was right in front of me. I think I've found my answer."

There was nothing wrong with going out, messing up, trying to find love. But if it's not out there, he was always going to come back.

Come back to the person he knew all along.

#fanfiction #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #taylor swift #you belong with me #fearless (taylor's version)#requested

125 notes · View notes

novantinuum · 10 months ago

Text

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Rating: G Words: 1.9K~ Summary: heart•song (n.): An expression of our most inner being, identity, and reason for existence – what twists and turns of life have led us here, to this dangerous place? And by what strength do we keep enduring? - Or: For a sage to give one their vow, first there must be vulnerability. (A collection of shorts exploring the bond between each sage and Link.)

Yunobo is my OTHER little scrunkly rock boy ;w;

Enjoy!

____

The blunt reality of the sweltering, hellish place he finds himself in this afternoon still brings him pause.

A volcano.

He— Yunobo— jumped straight into the actively erupting maw of a freakin’ volcano. What in Darunia’s cliff-splitting name was he thinking, goro?

It’s not that he doubts he can handle whatever Death Mountain can throw at him— he’s been really practicing with his swings lately, and of course the fiery roll attack he developed will be a huge boon to their offensive arsenal— it’s that he took the leap without sparing even a single thought towards all the potential consequences first. The old him… the cowering but practical him… wouldn’t be caught half molten making such impulsive decisions. The old him would’ve waited on the rim, would’ve watched Link paraglide down into the Depths with a solid wall of anxiety clawing at his core, chained to the surface by the fears of his own timidity and inexperience. Yet somehow, this time, not a single one of those thoughts even briefly skimmed across his consciousness. Instead all he could think about were the faces of his fellow brothers. His people’s plight… hijacked by their bottomless craving for marbled rock roast, wholly uncaring of all the pressing needs of their youth and elders. Oh, this is a mess, all right… and one that his own foolishness caused.

So this time, with the wellbeing of his city at stake, not only did he take the leap; he leapt first.

And isn’t that what courage is supposed to be? Shouldn’t this be a good change? It probably is, but if so, then… why does he still feel so icky inside?

Yunobo continues to pace across the course sands scattered in concentric circles beneath the lightroot his companion activated just now. He wishes he could find it within him to relax like Link is— sitting cross legged under the root’s regenerating aura as he works to tighten one of the strings on his bow— but instead his mind keeps returning to that damn mask… to the glamor he escaped from under the thumb of only hours ago. At this point, he can barely remember anything from his time under its sway. But with the way young Slergo and Offrack looked to him with such worried relief when he came to, and what little context he gleaned from them and his Hylian friend… plus the distant glimpse he caught of his city while riding up the side of the mountain… things must have been bad. Really, really bad.

Out of nervous habit, he grinds his molars together unnecessarily hard as he continues to chew over this puzzling quandary. How could he let any of this happen? He genuinely thought he was becoming a better leader. A positive role model actually worthy of all the affection and encouragement his two little tagalongs constantly supply. Maybe, though, he hasn’t grown as much as he hoped. Maybe he’s always destined to be a bumbling screw-up. Maybe he’s—

“Yunobo.”

His friend’s voice cuts through all the murk and mire like it’s little more than the thin, newly hardened crust of a cooling lava flow. Humming in idle curiosity and ceasing his paces, his attention snaps towards the Hylian’s face.

“What’s eating at you?” Link manages to coherently sign through the thick glove of his volcano-proof armor, his expression blown wide with palpable concern. His weapon lays momentarily forgotten at his side.

“I—“ he scratches at one of the patches of hardened stone jutting out form the back of his neck— “I guess I’m just thinking about what I can’t remember. Which… means I’m thinking about nothing? Or everything. Gah, I don’t know. It’s… all so confusing.”

Heaving a large sigh, he finally resolves to park himself on the ground. Just for a few minutes. Just until Link’s had enough time to recover from that last camp of lizalfos they had to take care of and fix his bow.

“But if you really wanna know,” he continues, “then I guess what’s actually bothering me is just… that mask. And the fact it could control me like that so easily. Am I…” he pauses, his brows scrunching inwards amidst the thick coils of shame he suddenly feels brimming within, “really that weak-willed, goro?”

“You were tricked,” Link responds in a few swift motions, his expression softening with empathy. “Your agency was stolen from you. That’s never the victim’s fault.”

“But I shouldn’t have been a victim in the first place!” Yunobo blurts out, throwing his arms in the air. “I’m Daruk’s descendant, so everyone’s always counting on me to be the strong one, and I—“

His voice cuts.

There’s a thousand clamorous words piling up behind the face of all this self-directed anger, but no easy way to vent them out. No way to truly make sense of them all unless he digs deep within himself and starts asking the big questions:

What is he really ashamed about?

He sinks into himself, his volume dropping lower. Meeker.

“…and I just hate always feeling so helpless,” he admits, truly feeling the weight of such a statement as he droops his head low. “My brothers need me right now, and I’ve been letting them down. I’ve been letting them down for a really long time…”

Link purses his lips, thinking for a moment.

“Do you wanna know something?” he eventually signs.

“Yeah, goro?”

“Even I feel helpless at times.”

“Wha— really? You??” Yunobo says, his tone unbelieving. “But you’re Link! You’re the hero of all of Hyrule! You never give up for anything!”

He shrugs. “Trying your best to do the right thing doesn’t mean you never feel helpless.”

“Huh. That’s… actually a good point.”

“When I…” his friend inhales deeply, taking a quick moment to center himself before continuing. “When I lost Zelda, and lost my sword, and woke up alone in the sky, it was hard to not feel that way. But—“ he gazes out towards the vast ruins looming in the distance, nestled against the side of a cliff beyond a cluster of bokoblin encampments and a rather majestic lava fall— “life moves on. Sometimes all we can do is move on. Our enemy is powerful— ungodly powerful. So how is it fair to blame ourselves for falling victim to its influence? How is it fair to assume we need to fight this alone, when the enemy is backed up by an entire army of monsters?“

The faint glimmer of fire in the ruins up ahead easily draws his attention as he churns over what Link is saying. This forgotten fortress— forged of igneous stone that looks to have been mined directly out of the heart of Death Mountain herself— is unquestionably of Goron make, and unquestionably ancient. And given its locality, resting this far beneath the familiar slopes of Eldin, the only historic setting he can possibly connect with it is—

Gorondia.

It has to be.

Even thinking the name fills his soul with a swell of unspeakable awe, like a succulent bite of half molten rock roast warming his body from the inside out.

It’s the lost city of an era long past. The crown jewel of endless centuries of Goron artistry. A place so steeped in legend that it was only ever mentioned in the context of make-believe and fairytales. And yet he managed to find it anyways! Him! Cowardly ol’ him! Despite all the odds stacked against this quest (a two person quest all the way through, far different than last time), Yunobo succeeded where generations of Goron scholars failed, and he wasn’t even trying to unearth old history. All he wanted to do was make up for the damage he caused, but then— following in Link’s courageous footsteps— one thing led to another, and now they’ve fought their way through all the terrors of the depths right to Gorondia’s doorstep, vying to liberate his people from gloom’s control altogether. It really goes to show just how much one can accomplish with a friend by their side.

Link, for the record, seems to agree.

“This war is not one man’s fight, and I’m done with pretending otherwise,” he continues, briefly pausing as he uses his hands to push himself back up to his feet. “It’s teamwork and goodwill between regions that aided me in ending the Calamity, and it’s that same kind of companionship that will save us now. I helped you, and now you’ll help me, and if we work together with the rest of Hyrule, I truly believe we can stop this calamity too.”

He clasps his hands together, large rocky nails scraping along his inner palm.

“I… I think that’s the most words I’ve ever seen you say at once, goro,” he says with a soft chuckle. “You’re really passionate about this, aren’t you?”

Link bobs his head in an affirmative.

“Well—“ he picks himself off the ground and trundles to his feet as well— “even if I do still feel out of place, it’s pretty amazing that we’ve made it this far, huh?”

The barest corner of his mouth tilts upwards. “I couldn’t have made it here without your support.”

“And I still would’ve been dealing marbled rock roast to all my brothers if it weren’t for you showing up! I guess we have a lot to thank each other for, huh?”

A rush of emboldened warmth surging all the way from his dense, molten heart to his furthest extremities, Yunobo glances at the road behind, at the winding path they took from the chasm’s opening all the way up to this very lightroot at the highest rim of Death Mountain’s lake. Link’s right. It truly is a wonder, how far they’ve journeyed together. Companionship… all the connections he’s nurtured with folks of all shapes and sizes these past few years… they’ve forged him into the dependable, occasionally courageous (he’s still working on that) Goron he is today. Connection makes them all stronger. Knowing Link has made him stronger. Not too long ago, back when he still hid idly behind his ancestor’s protection, he wouldn’t have been caught dead leaping into the maw of a volcano, let alone working to infiltrate a whole ancient Goron city overflowing with monsters.

But things have changed. He’s changed. He doesn’t need Daruk to shield him anymore, because he’s got his own fire stirring within. That fire is what drove him towards a position of leadership in his city, and— in both a figurative and a literal sense— it’s what’s led him here into the deepest caverns of the Depths today.

So he can’t let himself give up after coming so far, no how, no way! His brothers need him right now. And he needs them. His fault or not, his earlier influence tipped his home into complete disarray, but by Din’s eternal light he swears he’ll be the one to fix it.

Together… hand in hand with his most loyal friend.

Freeing the remainder of his stressors within a deep, sonorous sigh, he bends down to grab the leather wrapped hilt of his most cherished weapon, a Boulder Breaker Link himself passed on to him that used to belong to the great Daruk.

“I’m ready when you are, goro,” he says, hefting the sledge over his shoulder and clenching his opposing palm into an assured fist.

He’ll see this quest through to the end this time, he swears it.

#loz #totk #link #yunobo #loz fanfic #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda fanfic #legend of zelda fanfiction #loz fanfiction #tears of the kingdom fanfiction #my writing stuff

16 notes · View notes

mikelogan · 9 months ago

Note

hello. i really enjoy your content, but i have to say i'm kinda disappointed on you still being a ts fan. this woman knows what disney does and yet she still gave them the rights, meaning she either doesn't care or actively supports the genocide. or maybe she decided to turn her morals off because money is more important. not to mention how she consistently associates herself with questionable people and how a person literally died in one of her shows on brazil and she gave zero fucks. this woman is not a good person and there are no excuses to being her fan anymore.

no, i fully understand what you're saying and where you're coming from. over the last like. idk year and a half? ive been pretty vocal about my disappointment, distaste, and disagreement with a multitude of the choices she's made lately. i 100% agree that her silence on the subject of palestinian genocide (as well as many other human rights/social causes) is at best a sign of apathy and at worst a sign of support. especially when miss americana was all about her wanting to be more outspoken and be an activist. that all feels so incredibly performative now -- and has for a while. a lot of things that she's said and done since midnights, which is when i became more active in the tumblr swiftie community, have left a bad taste in my mouth for her as a person.

like i said, i genuinely agree with what you're saying. the only thing i take issue with is that she didn't care that a fan died at her show. she donated money to the fan's family and took time to meet them. regardless of my many issues with her, i do think she can be an empathetic person and i don't think that she just straight up didn't care that someone died before her show. it's one of those things (of which there are many) where we'll never know her true thoughts bc she doesn't talk about things. which is frustrating in itself.

now that's not the point of your message, so feel free to write that off as a digression. i strongly disagree with her making yet another version of the eras tour movie and hosting it on disney+. I'm personally boycotting disney+ and have been for a while. I don't even intend on watching the new version and like the vast majority of everything I gif, that shit is pirated -- that's how I watched the original release of the movie. obviously my consumption/boycotting is just one person compared to blondie, who has influence over millions, who could make real change if she spoke out against genocide.

at this point, im not supporting her financially either apart from listening to her music. which i love. im sorry, but I do. if I didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation. i think her constant churning out different exclusive versions of the same albums are a transparent money grab and maybe an effort to set more records as far as sales or streams or however that all works. and I'm not just saying that bc I literally couldn't even afford to buy a digital copy of an album right now.

so yeah. I appreciate that you enjoy my content and thank you for saying so, but if you need to unfollow or block, i understand. I've definitely toned down/completely stopped sharing posts about her as a person bc I'd much rather focus on just the music. and maybe that makes me a bad person for continuing to listen to and enjoy her music. im not saying i necessarily feel good about it, but i think the fact of the matter is that a lot of the celebrities, actors, musicians, etc. we like or whose content we enjoy hold views we disagree with and have different values or priorities. nuance exists. right now, im someone who is vocal about the palestinian genocide and I try to share resources/posts about it when they come across my dash and im also someone who is a fan of Taylor's music.

Idk, I hope what I'm saying makes sense at least on some level. I've done my best to word things coherently, but brain fog fucks w me a lot. and like. it's probably whatever, but I do plan on changing my url after ttpd releases. That probably upsets you more and I can see how people might think im a hypocrite or something and yeah, I get it. Idk, I just want to enjoy someone's music without endorsing them as a person, but that's extra difficult when the person in question is the biggest singer in the industry. but you'll never see me making excuses for her on things like this or the m*tty situation or numerous other things she's said and done that gross me out. im not so far up her ass that I think she's perfect or that I feel the need to defend her at every turn. like I said, nuance. anyway, if you feel the need to respond, i welcome you to do so as long as we both remain respectful, which I think we've done. this is a difficult topic, but that doesn't mean we can't discuss it. I appreciate your point of view and I'm sorry that I've disappointed you!

#answered #anonymous #sorry for the novel 😬#i put a lot of thought into this and wanted to be thorough!

12 notes · View notes

freakageek2359 · 11 months ago

Text

Ok, so, this movie was, and still is, one of my absolute favorites. Of all time. I love it so much. And Willy Wonka is ABSOLUTELY 100% the antagonist in it! And so many people seem to forget that. He is a crazy madman wrapped in whimsy! And Gene Wilder portrayed that beautifully! (Seriously, no one will ever top this man’s performance.)

Wonka in this movie is a trickster god. He knows what’s going to happen, he’s set up for it, and he’s just hoping SOMEONE will learn the lesson (way to go, Charlie!). And, just like a trickster god, he’s not afraid to cause some mischief or outright harm to those he’s trying to teach.

I will freely admit that I’ve only read the book once and I don’t remember a whole lot of it, but I do remember that the other children were alive - if changed - at the end of it. But in this movie? You have no idea what happens to them! Sure Wonka sends the Oompa Loompas down with the parents to get the kids, wherever they’ve ended up. But there is one notable exception to this. Veruca Salt.

Neither book (if I’m remembering right) nor movie ever showed him having an Oompa Loompa get the Salts out of the garbage chute/incinerator. His line in the movie was something along the lines of “Well, I THINK this one is only lit every other day, so they have a sporting chance.”

Bro straight up gives ZERO FUCKS as to whether these people die.

So it makes you think….What about the others? We certainly never see them leave the factory. And what was it that creepy knife-seller told Charlie in the beginning of the movie…. No one ever comes out.

(In a way you can also argue that Charlie never comes out either, since he and his family are being absorbed into the factory, and will be living INSIDE the factory walls.)

That’s what this movie does so well that the Depp movie didn’t (I haven’t seen the newest movie, and honestly I probably won’t at this point). The Depp movie tried to make him sympathetic, and weird instead of whimsical. He wasn’t the antagonist anymore, he wasn’t a trickster trying to bestow wisdom and mischief upon mankind. They took away all his teeth, and with that, any real oomph or drive or interest to the story.

It’s almost midnight here and I am half asleep, but I am gd passionate about this movie and I have thoughts and I am gonna make that everyone else’s problem now. I have zero idea if this is even coherent at this point. But damn did I enjoy ranting about my favorite movie.

tldr: OP is right and Wonka is the antagonist and absolutely killed some kids in that movie.

The core appeal of Willy Wonka is that he's a nigh-omnipotent maniac who uses his near limitless powers over reality to trick shitty people into killing themselves. You can't make him the protagonist of a whimsical coming of age tale - you have to treat him like Jason Voorhees, or Dracula, or any other horror icon. Give him some new victims and new interesting kills and set him loose, that's all audiences want.

#Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory #Willy Wonka #Gene Wilder #i have so many thoughts and feelings about this movie #I love it so much #geek rants

53K notes · View notes

reid-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

A Progression of Touch

In which Spencer doesn’t like to touch people until you come along and then he can’t help himself

A/N: Look at me, dropping stories like flies. Also, I’ve been staring at this gif for far too long...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He doesn’t like to touch other people.

He knows it, you know it, the whole F.B.I. knows it. He told you as much the first time he met you by the way he awkwardly refused to shake your hand. Though he compensated with a friendly smile and a wave, you knew you were in for a ride with Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that he thought you were diseased. He just knew too much about germs and the human body to risk it, especially around cold and flu season which was exactly when he met you. It was bad enough that Garcia had dragged him to the Christmas party to begin with - there were so many people in close quarters, who knew what viruses were floating around - but he wasn’t a big fan of mingling and small talk either. And that was exactly what Penelope was forcing him into when he got his first glimpse of you.

As soon as you had five minutes with Spencer under your belt, you knew you wanted a lot more time with him. He was unlike any person you had ever met and he fascinated you, especially his aversion to touch.

A few months later, when Spencer finally bit the bullet and asked you on a date (after much prompting and borderline bribery from Garcia and multiple other team members she had coerced into helping her), he knew that his no touching rule was not going to fly for very long. He didn’t know much about relationships, but he did know that physical touch was a pretty important factor to most women. Though you never pushed him, he could tell that you were holding back for his benefit. He could see it in your eyes every time he dropped you off after a date. In most scenarios, a kiss goodnight would be expected - you wanted it, he could sense it - but it felt like you were the wrong side of a magnet that he just couldn’t get himself close to.

This was a problem, because he was falling for you and he was going to have to do something about it.

Spencer knew that going the 0-100 method wasn’t going to work for him. He couldn’t just jump from not touching you at all to getting hot and heavy in the backseat of a car. But, gradual steps may work. If he eased himself in to getting acquainted with touching you, he could both push himself out of his comfort zone and give you a bit of the physical contact that you were clearly craving.

-----

It started with a hug.

One night, after walking you to your front door, you could tell that Spencer was concentrating on something and it wasn’t your current conversation. You were rambling on about some TV program you had seen the other night, and you knew he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying.

“Hey, you okay?”

He glanced up at you, frowning, as if he had just remembered you were standing there.

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself after catching a gust of chilly air. “You just seem...far away. Distracted.”

He paused, pursing his lips at your accusation, and you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable under his gaze.

“Is something wrong? Did I...did I do something? I mean, are you -”

“No!”

The suddenness of his reply caused you to jump, and he let out a nervous chuckle before running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s not you at all. I’m sorry, you’re right. I am distracted.”

“Well...about what? Maybe I can help.”

He paused again, and then smiled. “Yeah, maybe you can. Would you be able to just...stand still for a second?”

The strange nature of his request caused you to frown a bit, but you simply nodded and watched him with curiosity. A few seconds later, he slowly started to to move a few steps closer and raise his arms slightly. You had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t move a muscle. His arms eventually found their way to rest lightly on the sides of you waist and then started to wrap around your torso.

Your stomach instantly flipped. This was the first time Spencer had ever touched you beyond the occasional brush of your shoulders when you moved past him, or a playful kick to his leg when he beat you at chess. It had been two months of weekly dates, dinners, museum trips and evenings of sitting and talking until you were both too tired to form coherent sentences but, as much as you loved those times with him, you’d by lying if you said you never wished that he would throw caution to the wind once in a while and toss an arm around you or caress the side of your face with his fingers.

Now, just the feeling of his hands on your back was like opening up a can of worms that had been wriggling in desperation for weeks, and you certainly hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing, because there was no way you’d ever be able to put those worms back in the can after this.

He took another step toward you and circled his arms tighter around your back. You knew he had asked you not to move, but you couldn’t hold back any longer. You slowly raised your own arms until they were resting on his shoulders and then, when he didn’t protest, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in until your head was nestled just below his collarbone. He tensed up only a moment before you felt him lean his head in the crook of your neck.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, holding each other. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You didn’t care, all that you knew was that you never wanted him to let go.

-----

After the hug, his next target were your hands.

Although Spencer was keenly aware of just how many germs the human hand picked up throughout the day, he was determined to overcome his aversion. You were clean and had good hygiene habits, he knew that. He had been hugging you every time he saw you since that first night, how much more difficult could holding your hand be?

It was during a movie he wasn’t really paying attention to that he finally made his move. Lately, his go-to move during movies was to carefully put his arm around you and rest his hand on your shoulder. He was completely comfortable with that movement now and really thought nothing of it anymore. He could tell that you enjoyed it as well, so he was more than happy to oblige you and suggest a movie night as often as possible.

Tonight, however, he had different ideas. He purposely kept his arm at his side for the first half of the film, and he knew that you noticed. Truthfully, you had come to expect the motion now and were slightly disappointed when it didn’t happen as soon as the opening credits started to roll, but it wasn’t long until you figured out why.

You thought it was an accident at first. You had both of your hands resting in your lap and had your eyes focused on the movie when you felt it. The lightest, softest brush of skin against your own. Your hand twitched involuntarily and you silently cursed yourself for probably scaring him away. But, a minute or so later, it happened again. Still soft, still tentative, but it lingered.

You stealthily flicked your gaze down to your lap and saw Spencer’s hand hovering just slightly over your own. You weren’t entirely sure what he was aiming for, but you kept your hand deathly still while you waited. His hand finally came to rest on your thigh and the side of his palm rested lightly against your own. You watched as his pinkie brushed up over the back of your hand, then another finger, and another, and another, until his whole hand was on top of yours. You opened the spaces between your fingers in hopes that he would lace his own through, and you weren’t disappointed. His fingers slid between yours like butter and you felt him squeeze your palm and slowly caress the back of your hand with his thumb.

It was your idea to shuffle closer to him, lift his arm with your hands still intertwined, and loop it over your shoulder. He glanced over to you, smiled, and squeezed your hand again.

You wished you had picked a longer movie. Truthfully, so did he.

-----

The idea of kissing you was terrifying.

Spencer had kissed and been kissed before, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and it hadn’t ever been with someone he truly cared about. It was one thing for two body parts to come together in what science called a kiss, it was a whole other thing for that kiss to mean something. The last thing Spencer wanted was for him to screw up a potentially important moment in your relationship because he was hesitant or overly paranoid.

He also had no idea how to know when the “right” moment was, if there was such a thing. Hugging was easy now, holding your hand was routine - he could do those at really any time, in any location, in any circumstance, and it wouldn’t be considered awkward or weird - but kissing was different. It was intimate, it was private, and it required more thought.

It had taken him weeks, but he finally had a plan in mind. It was elaborate and detailed - as most of Spencer’s ideas were - and he knew exactly what he was going to say and do leading up to the moment.

However, what he wasn’t betting on was the sudden, overwhelming, spontaneous desire that came over him one evening while you were sitting in his apartment. You hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary; you had gone out to dinner, walked back to his place, and had plans to spend the rest of the night talking, maybe doing a puzzle or playing a game, and then you would go home like you always did.

But it was something about the way you laughed after he told you a funny story that happened at work that day. It was the way your eyes locked on his every time he spoke, and the way you looked so intensely interested in every single thing he was saying, even if you didn’t understand all of it. It was the way you leaned into him when he pointed out something in a book he was holding, and the way he could smell your shampoo - vanilla with a hint of lavender - when you got close to him. It was the way your hand rested lovingly on his back while he read a passage to you and the way you absentmindedly twirled your hair as you listened.

He needed to kiss you, and he needed to do it immediately.

He didn’t care that it didn’t fit into his plan, he didn’t care that it wasn’t exactly what he pictured, and he didn’t care that he hadn’t prepared himself for it. The only thing he could think of was the shape of your lips and his intense need to know what they felt like on his own.

So, he went for it.

It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t subtle, and it was probably the messiest thing he had ever done. He put the book down on the table, looked over at you, grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you to him. You were initially frozen in shock - the last thing you had expected that night was for Spencer to kiss you, let alone like this - but you could feel the intensity and desperation as his lips moved over yours, and that was enough to thaw your surprise and trigger your response instinct. You put one hand behind his head and pulled him impossibly closer to you, scooting to the very edge of your seat.

His hands dropped from your face and landed on the tops of your thighs before he slid them up to your waist and you could feel him start to tug you closer. There was nowhere for you to go other than practically on top of him, and you knew there was no way he wanted you to do that.

Was there?

As much as it pained you to do so, you momentarily broke the kiss to catch your breath.

“Wow.”

Spencer chuckled, still gripping your waist.

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I just...couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Oh, don’t apologize!” you said, a little too enthusiastically. “It was great, and I wouldn’t have stopped you, it’s just...”

Spencer studied you, and brought one hand up to the side of your face again.

“Just, what?”

“It’s nothing, I guess I just wondered - I mean, I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to...you know...go. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Spencer smiled, and you felt him tug you closer again. You gave him a questioning look, and he nodded.

“C’mere,” he said. “It’s okay.”

You tentatively stood and took a step closer to him before he gently guided you down until you were straddling his lap. You exhaled a breath of nerves as you seated yourself and brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I’m not going to push things any further tonight. But, right now, I would really like to keep kissing you. It’ll help me get comfortable with it. Repetition of an action you’re uncomfortable with is proven to retrain your mind in how you view the action.”

You grinned. “Is that the only reason you’d like to keep kissing me? To prove a scientific fact?”

“It’s more like a psychological fact. You see, in moments of intense satisfaction or pleasure, the brain releases something called dopamine which causes -”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish before you leaned in and kissed him again.

The psychological facts could wait.

------------------------------------------------------------------

#spencer reid #fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff

5K notes · View notes

clairecrive · 4 years ago

Text

"Bookish talks"- Billy Russo x reader

A/n: again, not requested but the idea popped into my mind after reading @faulty-coding piece. (I think)

Warnings: a bit of angst, misunderstandings but fluffy ending

Word count: 1.5k +

Tagging: @thefictionalgemini , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx (if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist by filling this form)

My masterlists are here.

"Yeah, she's been going on and on about this book. I've got five more minutes to go."

Well, the things you find out when you turn up where you're not supposed to be.

To be fair, you didn't mean to eavesdrop. When you got out that morning you had forgotten to take your wallet. Here explained why you had returned not even ten minutes from where you first walked out. You didn't even think that Billy would be still at home, so you didn't bother with announcing yourself.

And look what a surprise you were met with.

Taking your wallet, you hurried out of Billy's apartment set on not hearing anymore.

*+* *+* *+*

The day passed as it normally would. You had pushed back Billy's words in your mind because you had work to do. It wouldn't be smart to unpack what it meant so early in the morning when you had so much to do.

You weren't mad per se. You were rather hurt that he had never told you that he didn't enjoy your talks about the latest book you were reading. So yeah, let's add "stupid and guilty" under your current mood. You didn't want to put Billy in a position where he had to bear with something he didn't like. But how were you meant to know if he didn't talk to you?

This is not the moment, you reprimanded yourself with a shake of your head.

Coherent with your routine though, at six, Billy's call came. Of course, he acted normally, nothing had happened for him, after all.

"So, you coming around tonight?"

"Nope, book club meeting tonight."

"Oh, right. Was kinda hoping you'd ditch them."

"They're my outlet for my book nerdiness, Billy. Wouldn't want to annoy anyone with my craze over books."

"Who said you do?"

"You did."

It wasn't your intention to confront him on the matter over the phone. It was an instant reaction.

Billy didn't gasp but the silence you were met with was more than enough to show you that he'd been taken aback.

"Y/n-"

"It's okay, Billy. I don't mind if you don't like listening to me talking about books. I just wish you would have told me. I wouldn't be feeling so stupid and guilty for all the time I've made you waste now if you had."

"You didn't waste my time."

From that moment, things between you had Billy went back to normal. Sort of. He hadn't confronted you on the matter anymore and of course, you wouldn't bring it back up. So you settled in your usual routine, without of course any mention of books.

"Mh," looking at the clock on your desk you noticed that if you only have half an hour to finish your last assignment and before you need to leave, " I've got to go now, Billy. I'll talk to you soon." You ended the call without waiting for a response.

*+* *+* *+*

You were currently on Billy's sofa, leaning on him while you watched a documentary on Ancient Rome. It was interesting and it made you think about a book you had read on the subject a while ago. You opened your mouth to share your thoughts with Billy but a flashback of his words stopped you.

What if he hated it when you did that too?

"You're awfully quiet tonight." His voice startled you from your thoughts.

"A bit tired."

"Haven't got any anecdotes for me tonight?"

"Nope."

Your eyes didn't leave the tv screen. Yes, the documentary was interesting but you also didn't want Billy to know that you were lying. He had the uncanny ability of sensing whenever you weren't being genuine.

Out of the blue, the documentary stopped and the sound of the control hitting the coffee table told you that it was Billy who had paused it.

His hands grabbed your arms and pulled you away from him so that he could look you in the eyes.

"You're holding back."

"You're holding me back." Was your witty yet unnecessary reply. Billy's jaw clenched but the grip on your arms didn't tighten.

"Is this about the book thing?"

"We're watching a documentary, Billy. Why would it be about the book thing?"

"You always have something to say when we watch this stuff. Something you've read somewhere, some time ago." He explained, quoting you.

"I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me stuff," he added more softly when you didn't speak.

"Oh, I know I can. You just bitch about it with your friends whenever I do though."

His eyes squinted lightly, if his hands weren't on you, you probably would have missed how his shoulders tensed too.

"So it is about the book thing," he murmured releasing your arms.

"Well, Billy, you've basically fallen under the category of the white man who complains about how annoying his girlfriend is to his friends."

"I've not said you're annoying."

"You might as well have," you huffed crossing your arms, turning away from him.

"I know I sounded like an asshole but that's not what I meant. I really don't mind when you go off for ten minutes on some book you're reading."

"Spare me the bullshit, Billy. You don't have to lie to not hurt my feelings. It's too late for that anyway."

"I'm not lying." he insisted offended by your accusation but you didn't bother responding to him.

Billy sighed, one of his hands wiped over his face as he, no doubt, was trying to think of how to make this right. But maybe it was your time to speak.

"I realise that me sharing every thought or little thing that happens can be overwhelming." Fiddling with the fingers of your hands, you tried to find the right words.

"When me and Karen chose our university major, I was sure that our friendship was going to end. It happens, you take different paths and suddenly you go from best friends t someone you say hi to whenever you meet them around." You stopped to look at him. Bily's eyes were solely focused on you, so you continued.

"To avoid that, we developed a sort of routine where we would tell each other about our days, what we did, the things that happened, people we had met and stuff like that. We'd usually met once a week if not more often and this way we managed to strengthen our relationship and here we are after ten years, still best friends."

"Even if we went our separate ways, neither of us felt left out or behind from the other's life. I knew her friends even if I hadn't met them and since she told me everything I felt like I was as part of her life as I was when we shared every class together."

"I'm a rather introverted and reserved person, Billy. I'm sure you gathered that by now. I guess sharing this kind of things, books I read, things I do and stuff is my way of making you an active presence in my life. Because I care about you and I wouldn't want you to feel left out. Also because I don't feel the need to filter myself around you." A pause. "Well, did."

During your soliloquy, you didn't meet Billy's eyes. It felt deeply personal to share this with him but you hoped it would help him understand. Not necessarily make him enjoy your bookish talk but to make him at least not think of you as annoying.

Billy didn't speak. He had let you have your moment because it was clear that there were things you had been keeping to yourself. You hadn't been dating for long, only a couple of months, so you were still getting to know each other.

Yes, Billy wasn't exactly a bibliophile but he enjoyed the thought of being someone you trusted so much to the point where you're not afraid of opening up.

He really wanted to kick himself for having ruined that. For making you feel like a burden.

Leaning towards you, he gently turned your face to him.

"What you've heard the other day was me explaining to Frankie what I was doing." His voice was soft as if he was afraid that he'd ruin the intimate atmosphere by speaking louder.

"I was listening to your message about that book and yes, it was seven minutes long and yes, you were going on and on about a character's motives and his psychology but I didn't mean to imply it was annoying." His eyes flickered between yours and he seemed truthful enough but you were still hesitant.

"It's okay if you don't enjoy it, Billy. My father hates whenever I do that but that doesn't mean that he loves me any less." You offered him another way out.

"Well, I guess this is why you told me you're not looking for a man like your father."

"Are we good?" He murmured, eyes flickering between yours. You nodded leaning into his touch.

"Trust me, you're nothing like my father." you chuckled, accepting his words for what you knew knew they implied.

Smiling at you, Billy's hands reaching to cup your cheeks.

"Do you promise to talk to me if there's something wrong?" You asked him, needing the reassurance.

"Don't I always talk your ears off when you leave your stuff hanging around?" True enough but you needed him to say it.

"I promise." He conceded, nose bumping into yours before kissing you softly.

"So, got any fun fact to share?" He asked you again, pointing to the tv with his head.

"I've got a few, yes." You shily smiled at him.

"Hit me." Leaning back on the sofa, he got comfortable as he encouraged you to speak.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n #billy russo imagine #billy russo imagines #billy russo fic #billy russo one shot #billy russo angst #billy russo fluff #billy russo blurb #the punisher #ben barnes

679 notes · View notes

soft--dragon · 3 years ago

Text

Of Bothers And Brothers

This was written for my dear friend Candle who's birthday was last week! Hope you guys enjoy ^^

Word Count: 2,834

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Don’t get Techno wrong, he dearly loved his dumb internet friends. The small family he was a part of; the Sleepy Bois Inc, was something he appreciated deeply. Phil, a close friend, Tommy, a lovable little brother, and Wilbur? Really getting on his nerves right now.

He’d come to the UK to visit his internet family and friends, and was living at Phil's because the man refused to let him stay in a motel.

"Why waste money when you can just reinforce the family dynamic? Besides, Kristen would kill me if you didn't stay here, she's been looking forward to meeting you."

His words warmed Techno inside and out, Phil cooing at his glowing flush over discord as he tried to reply coherently. It was useless. He'd given in, only because Kristen was terrifying when she wanted to be. Phil was probably half joking about dying to her hand.

Besides he'd been wanting to bully Phil alongside his wife for ages now. Who was he to pass up the opportunity?

Now though, he truly wished he'd picked the motel. Wilbur and Tommy had come to stay at Phil's too, both incredibly eager to meet their fellow brother at last.

Tommy had latched onto him like a koala after Techno reassured him he didn't mind the contact. Wilbur, after getting his fair share of 'Techno Hugs', then settled on seeing how far he could push Techno's patience.

The American was kicked back on the couch, Tommy still coiled around him like a loving snake. Phil was on another chair with Kristen beside him, watching as Wilbur practically jumped up and down as he ranted about games he could best Techno in.

"Just Dance! Come on, no way you could be good at that!"

"I hold the best record in my household Wil, no one's ever beaten me and you won't be the first."

"He's right mate, he sent me photos of his high score, don't even try it" Phil called from beside Kristen.

Wilbur huffed but trusted Phil's word so he looked back to Techno with a calculating gaze. "Wii Sports, you and me, tennis, baseball, golf?"

Techno yawned obnoxiously, making Tommy giggle as he rose and fell with Techno's chest. "My entire childhood Wilbur, I'm more experienced than you by a long shot, I was a recluse for years, what do you think I did in that time?"

Wilbur grumbled, taking his word for it as he scrambled for other ideas. "Uh, Mario Kart! I could totally kick your ass at Mario Kart! Phil has actual steering wheels for it!"

"I'm the champion at racing games Wil, I bet Minecraft with a steering wheel, get on my level" Techno drawled, giving Tommy a fist bump when the boy raised his fist with a grin.

Wilbur growled much to their amusement, pacing a bit as he tried to come up with something he could win against the American. Techno allowed his gaze to drop down to Tommy who was leaning more and more heavily into his side.

"Getting tired Toms?" He muttered quietly, his voice going softer instinctively. Growing up with siblings taught you some things.

Tommy hummed, eyelashes fluttering a little in sleepy blinks. "I can move if you want…?"

Techno gently scratched at Tommy's scalp, smiling when the teenager practically melted into his side. "Nah, you're okay-"

"I bet I could beat you in an actual fight!"

That caught Techno's attention. He flicked his gaze up and raised a brow at Wilbur who was standing steady in front of him. "Really?" He asked.

Wilbur nodded. "Undoubtedly."

Techno levelled Wilbur with a deadpan look, then dropped his eyes down to Tommy who was watching tiredly. “Tommy.”

The blonde blinked a little at the American, giving a hum of question.

“Mind sitting up for me please? Your big brother has to go deal with this nerd.”

Tommy giggled and eased himself off of his friend's side, Techno ruffling his hair in passing as he stood up from the couch. Wilbur immediately broke into a grin at Techno's compliance, lifting his fists into a fighting position.

“Ohhhhh, let’s go pig man!” He cheered, “show me what your gamer-man arms can do!”

Techno smirked and cracked his knuckles, making a show of shaking his hands out and rearing up to fight. “You really wanna go Soot? Think you could handle this guy?”

Wilbur jumped from side to side, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. “Hell yeah, come at me, come face the Wilbur!”

“Oh god, not the Wilbur!” Techno gasped in mock horror, stumbling back a bit to add to the act. If anything, it only egged Wilbur on more.

“Yeah! The Wilbur! You’re gonna get it now!”

Phil sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperated fondness while Kristen cheered from beside him. “Get his ass Techno!”

Wilbur gaped at Kristen, a mock offended look on his face as he briefly lowered his arms. “What the heck Mumza?! I thought you were on my side?!”

Looking away was his worst mistake. Techno took the opportunity to lunge for Wilbur, wrapping his arms around his waist and taking them both to the floor. A shriek left Wilbur’s mouth as he hit the ground, squabbling with Techno with yelps of protest as he smacked at Techno’s hands that were trying to pin him down.

“Yeahhh! Get em Tech!”

“Please don’t break anything!”

“Come on Techno! Take him down!”

Techno grinned at the yells behind him, managing to nab one of Wilbur’s flailing wrists and force it to the floor. The brunette screeched, his other hand coming up to push at Techno’s face, laughter started to tumble out of him.

“Yohou dihick! Lehemme uhup!”

“Stay dohown, crihime boy!” Techno’s deep chuckles followed Wilbur’s, his laughter was incredibly infectious.

“Mahahake mehe!” Wilbur playfully growled back, pressing his hand firmer against Techno’s cheek to force his head up more.

Techno’s spare hand went to shove at Wilbur's shoulder, but due to his blindness with the man forcing his head away, he missed the mark and his fingers grazed Wilbur’s armpit. Wilbur squealed, ripping his hand down and curling away from Techno. The room was deathly silent for a long while. Enough time passed for Wilbur to hesitantly lift his head from where he’d pressed it to the floor. He wished he hadn't looked.

Techno was grinning at him with half lidded eyes, a calculating look in the brown irises. Wilbur subconsciously curled his shoulders in with an anticipating smile, nerves in his eyes. “W-What? What is it?”

“Hmm, n’thing” Techno hummed, “just noticed a little something interesting about my younger brother is all.”

“B-By three minutes-”

“Yes yes, only by three minutes” Techno snickered then proceeded to use a finger to drag down Wilbur’s pinned arm.

Wilbur gasped and shoved Techno’s hand away, a squeak leaving his lips. “T-Tehech- Techno no” he tried to growl, but it was more of a high pitched yelp. Techno chuckled again, snatching up Wilbur's free hand and pinning it alongside his other one. “Oh now this is very interesting. Phil? Toms? Kristen? Did you know about this?”

Phil chuckled from the couch. “Yeah, his knees are the worst, his hips as well.”

Wilbur gave a choked sound, staring at the man in horror. “Phil!”

“Although if you use your nails on his neck he gets really, really giggly” Kristen added.

“Kristen what-?!”

“Oh, oh, and also if you claw at his ribs or stomach he’ll squeal” Tommy perked up from the couch.

The brunette was flushed pink, a rush of stuttering words tumbling from his lips. “What- no no- Tech don’t listen to them-”

Techno grinned, "nah, I think I will."

He brought a hand down to gently skitter his nails underneath Wilbur's jaw, eyes lighting up when the man immediately clamped his eyes shut and pursed his lips, a wide smile breaking out across his face.

"Come on Wil" he coaxed, "lemme hear your laughter~"

Wilbur stubbornly shook his head, cracking an eye open to glare at the man.

“Oh? Trying to hold it in aye?” Techno hummed, grinning at Wilbur who was fighting for his life to keep it together. "I grew up with siblings Wil, I could do this aaaall day~"

His nails brushed over Wilbur's collarbone, grinning at the squeak that was produced though the man tried to muffle it.

"I wonder how long you could handle this for" Techno thought out loud, making sure to keep his touch featherlight to keep Wilbur on edge. "Such one finger hmm? Let's start with that."

He slowly dragged his index finger along Wilbur's exposed arm, slow and steady but unbearable. Wilbur was squirming against the soft sensation, but still keeping his mouth shut.

"No? You can handle one? Alright then, two it is~"

To Wilbur's horror, Techno brought his hand back up and used both his index and middle fingers to drag down his arm again, occasionally wiggling them the barest margin.

"Tktktktktktktk~" Techno whispered into Wilbur's ear, adding a third finger without warning and repeating his process. "Oohh, I see your smile getting bigger, I think he's gonna breeaaak~"

Wilbur then burst into high pitched giggles, his laughter strangely like a hyenas as he tried to push his red face into his arm. "T-Tehehech!"

"And he's gone ladies and gentlemen!" Phil called like an announcer from the couch, gaining laughter from Tommy and Kristen and a fond eye roll from Techno.

"Alright then Sooty" the American turned all his attention onto the man before him. "Let's really get you laughing hmm?"

With that, he used Tommy's advice and began to claw at Wilbur's ribs. The man was thrown into bouts of laughter, loud cackles that were bouncy and happy. Though he shook his head and protested through his mirth, his eyes were shining with genuine joy. Whether it be from messing around with Techno for the first time in real life or from the tickling, Techno didn't know. He wasn't sure which one was more endearing.

Wilbur managed to yank an arm out but all it did was flop uselessly on the ground, Wilbur too caught up in his laughter to realise he'd freed one of his limbs. Techno snorted, scribbling over Wilbur's stomach quickly.

"Never knew you could laugh like this Will, kinda cute honestly~"

"Fuhuck- fuhuck ohohohoff!" Wilbur whined, kicking his heels into the ground as he giggled.

Techno grinned, taking his hands from Wilbur’s stomach and turned to Phil. “Hey old man, anywhere else I should try?” he started to ask when sudden rapid squeezing to his right side made him jolt away with a yelp. “AHAHahaye! Whahat-?”

Wilbur managed to snag the opportunity and locked his legs around Techno, forcing him to roll over onto his back. Wilbur shot up, pinning Techno down as he panted breathlessly from his laughter but his grin was smug. "Mihiy tuhurn bitch!"

He immediately started scribbling at Techno's lower back and side ruthlessly, not leaving a single ticklish stone unturned. The American broke into high laughter much to the surprise of the other occupants in the room, his bubbly giggles squeaking and hiccuping as he tried to push out protests.

“W-WAhahahit! WihihIHIHIHIL OHOHohoh gohohods-! H-Hahahahang ohohon!” He gasped, attempting to roll onto his back but Wilbur kept him down, starting to scratch at Techno’s sensitive flank.

Techno shrieked at the sudden change of tactics, squirming against the sensations desperately as he laughed. “WIHIHIHIL!”

“Told you I could win Tech! I told you! Never challenge the Wilbur!” Wilbur crowed, skittering his nails against the soft skin and cackling when Techno bucked with a squeal.

“WIHIHIHILL! NOhohohoho plehehEHEHAHAHAHA-” His words were lost in his laughter that he desperately tried to push down so he could fight back. It was useless however, because Wilbur dropped his head and blew a raspberry onto where his back met his sides.

Techno dropped like a sack of bricks, pushing his face into his arms to try and muffle the uncharacteristic cackles spilling free.

“Awwwww!” Phil fawned from the couch, quickly followed by Kristen’s adoring coos beside him. It made Techno’s ears burn red and smile widen.

“Oh my god! He’s blushing guys! He’s blushing, oh my god!” Wilbur gasped happily, slipping his fingers in the exposed space between Techno and the floor to skitter across his belly.

A yelp left Techno’s lips as he tried flattening himself to the floor in an attempt to block the man’s fingers, but it only pressed them into his stomach more. Wilbur giggled to himself when the American squealed and tried to smack away his arm.

“Something wrong Techie? You’re quite giggly there~” Wilbur hummed, pinching up and down Techno’s ribs, occasionally kneading in the spaces between the bones.

“Wilbur try his shoulder blades” Tommy spoke sleepily from the couch, lying on his side and watching with a grin.

Techno gave an indignant squawk that dissolved into a squeaky hiccup as Wilbur followed Tommy’s advice and scratched at the bones.

Wilbur grinned at the reaction, lifting his eyes to the blonde. “Good call Toms!”

Tommy smirked. “It works on you, figured it would be the same for your twin.”

“Oh fuck off.”

Phil cackled, leaning back and sharing a grin with Kristen. “Wilbur, you’re gonna kill Techno at this rate.”

“Nahhhh, he’ll be fine” Wilbur shrugged, dropping his head again to blow a mini raspberry into Techno’s shoulder blades and grinning when Techno frantically smacked the ground in fits of laughter.

Phil snickered fondly, lifting a brow. “You sure? Dunno how we’re gonna explain to his parents you accidentally murdered their son.”

Wilbur paused for a moment, screwing up his nose in thought. It allowed Techno to gain his breath and melt into the floor. He was a mess. His hair was mussed up from frantically shaking his head, his blush had taken over his whole face, and he had a smile so big it made his eyes squint.

“That’s a fair point” Wilbur hummed eventually, getting off at the American and sitting back on his hands with a mischievous giggle.

“You good Tech?” Kristen asked with an amused laugh.

The man let a breath that shook with leftover giggles. “Yehehah….yehehah I’m good” Techno grumbled, sitting up from the floor to glare at Wilbur who was smirking at him.

“Admit it Techno” he grinned, “admit that I won.”

Techno raised a brow at him, half tempted to stuff the brunette into a headlock and give him an aggressive noogie. On the other hand however...the three other occupants of the room did give him some helpful insight to Wilbur’s sensitivity.

“...Wilbur,” Techno spoke dangerously, glaring at his ‘twin’ playfully, “I refuse to admit defeat so early.”

He lunged at Wilbur without warning, taking amusement from the high pitched yell from the brunette as the man’s weight took him down to the floor again. He immediately struggled to fight back, knowing the second he let Techno get the upper hand, he was screwed.

Techno however, didn’t mind playing dirty.

He latched onto Wilbur’s hip and squeezed quickly, smirking when the brunette immediately fell back with a screech. Techno then quickly pinned his legs by sitting on them and squeezed at his knees with no mercy.

Wilbur, known to be very classy and elegant in his day to day life, honest to god arched off the floor with a scream. He was a frantic mess of babbling words and hysteric laughter. He attempted to sit up on an arm to fight back but his laughter had weakened his movements considerably. He’d never been able to handle his knees being tickled.

“TEHEHEHECH! TEHEHECHNOHOHOHO!” Wilbur shrieked, feebly smacking at Techno’s shoulders in the midst of his cackles.

The American grinned, wide and playful. "Admit it!" he challenged loudly.

"NEHEHEVER!"

Techno dropped a hand underneath one of Wilbur's knees to scribble against the sensitive skin, chuckling when Wilbur kicked frantically but couldn't move his hands.

"TEHEHEHECH!" Wilbur held his stomach as he pounded a fist into the floor, his flush practically glowing.

Techno only laughed. "Admit defeat Soot!"

Wilbur shook his head desperately, trying to withstand the fireworks of sensation tingling all across his knees but it was all he could focus on. Techno then leaned his weight away so he could lift up Wilbur's leg, raking his nails up and down the underside in an endless pattern. Wilbur had tears pricking his eyes before he finally cracked.

"YOHOHOU WIHIHIN! YOHOHOU WIHIHIN TEHEHECH!"

Techno cackled, thankfully easing up on the tickling and dropping Wilbur’s leg, looking over his shoulder at Wilbur who was flushed bright red with a wide grin splitting his face. He wheezed out a laugh, smacking Techno’s shoulder once more before collapsing onto his back in fits of giggles.

“Soooo, what was that you said Wil? You could beat me in a fight? Isn't that what you told me?”

Wilbur smacked him on the back weakly, a giggly whine pulling from his throat. “Yohou’re soho mehehean!”

Techno snorted. “L,” he said simply.

#my fanfic #fanfic #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #switch!wilbur #switch!techno #technoblade #wilbur soot #dsmp #tommyinnit #kristen #philza minecraft #sleepy bois inc

199 notes · View notes

jadequeen88 · 4 years ago

Text

Incel Tomura

I couldn’t think of a good title for this, so... I just went with something real blunt. Anyway, this was inspired by a friend and how she actually met her IRL boyfriend.

PAIRING: Incel!Shigaraki x egirl!reader

TW: face sitting, degradation, mommy kink, reader basically bullying Tomura (he deserves it)

3.2k~

AS ALWAYS MY FICS ARE STRICTLY 18+

“TCH!”

Tomura scoffed at the screen of his laptop. The Discord server he helped admin had gone to shit since he let that idiot Dabi loosen the requirements to join. It was one thing when Toga joined. He knew she was a decent gamer. But you? With those stereotypical cat-ear headsets, perfectly done make-up and short skirts? Please… He saw right through you. Just another fake ~uwu~ e-girl trying to pretend they knew what they were talking about.

It didn’t end with you being annoyingly informed in the gaming chat, either. You were always in the anime and manga chats, too… Suggesting different ones that there’s no way you actually enjoyed.

But the WORST part of you being in the server? Spamming the picture chat with selfies and outfit pics. No, it wasn’t against the guidelines and yes, you got lots of compliments (of course, you were clearly hot), but it made Tomura livid. Where there used to be pics of half-built PCs and screenshots of character upgrades, now there were endless pictures meant to tease and bait the guys in the server.

Today’s picture is what sent him completely over the edge. Your hair was put up in two messy space buns, signature pink cat-eared headset perched on your head. Your black, mesh top was straining against your tight, hot pink bra, barely hiding your cleavage and your slender neck was adorned with a chunky, black collar with a large, silver ring hanging from the front. The icing on the cake, though… the thing that broke him, was the face you were making. Eyes crossed, little pink tongue lolling past your perfect hot-pink lips, it was an obvious ahegao face. The caption read:

“New collar! Thank you for da gift @XxXknifey_wifeyXxX”

Followed by a bunch of annoying ass emojis.

Tomura shifted in his gaming chair, his growing bulge making his sweats tight. He gritted his teeth and opened his DMs…

******

You snickered as you opened your text chat with Dabi. Poor Tomura… He had no clue his friend was an old high school buddy of yours and sent screenshots every single time he bitched about your presence on the server. At first, it was just a couple of snide comments, but you quickly decided to turn it into a game. You’d add more emojis than you normally would, flirt shamelessly with Toga in the chat, and be very vocal with your opinions. Then it progressed with more and more selfies, pics showing off your new skirts, and pics of your pink, girly gaming setup. Today you pushed it with the ahegao face, you’ll admit. It was pretty out of character for you, but you couldn’t wait to hear about Tomura’s reaction from Dabi.

It was everything you hoped it would be:

Decay_666_

So can we give those bitches their own chat or what? Seriously, I’m sick of seeing their shit everywhere. Did you see her ahegao face selfie? This server was supposed to be for ACTUAL gamers, not fake e-girl sluts spamming the chat with their bullshit…

Cremation_Daddy

Lol, damn dude, calm down… we can make a separate chat. You’re the only one on the server complaining. Y/N really fucking you up that bad?

Decay_666_

Oh, fuck off… she’s just being an attention whore and it’s getting on my nerves.

Cremation_Daddy

Yeah, whatever you say. Prolly jerkin it to that selfie right now

You didn’t know why, but you kinda had a crush on the skinny loser. Knowing how worked up he’d get over the smallest things you did thrilled you. You wanted to know just how badly you affected him and today was the day you’d find out.

*****

Tomura heard a ping from his monitor alerting him to a new DM. expecting it to be Dabi giving him more shit, he scowled and clicked over to his Discord tab. When he saw that it was you DMing him, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He could barely type he was so nervous.

Y/N

Hey :)

Decay_666_

Y/N

How did you like my new collar?

Tomura panicked. Had Dabi said something? There’s no way he’d do that. How did he even respond to that? He decided to feign ignorance.

Decay_666_

What collar?

Y/N

*image*

He audibly gasped. You sent him the selfie you’d posted in the chat earlier. Somehow, it was even hotter than the first time he’d seen it. Probably because you had sent it to him. You wanted to make sure he saw it. The thought alone made him painfully hard. He typed out a shaky response:

Decay_666_

Yeah… you look really pretty :)

He grimaced. He couldn’t think of anything clever when he was put on the spot like that. Plus, how long had it been since he’d spoken to a girl one on one? Much less a hot one? Never. That’s when.

Y/N

Aww, you’re so sweet :) wanna see it in person?

Now Tomura was wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. Did she want to meet up? Wearing that fucking collar? There’s no way… He stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before another ping brought him back to reality.

Y/N

I’m free now if you are. Plus, there’s a new episode of *insert favorite anime* out and I didn’t wanna watch it alone.

Decay_666_

Yeah. Sure.

His response was almost uninterested but inside he was panicking. When was the last time he showered? How much time did he have to get ready? Did he even have any clean clothes? He leaped from his chair and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Another ping rang out and he raced to check his DMs to see that you’d sent your address. To his surprise, you only lived a short walk from him. Another jolt of excitement shot through his spine as he quickly responded.

Decay_666_

Be over in 30 :)

He turned on the shower then started picking through his pile of clothes finding the ones that smelled the least offensive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous and excited at the same time.

*****

Tomura shifted from one foot to the other, nervously scratching at the side of his neck. He caught himself before the skin there broke and he ended up having to deal with a bloody neck on top of already being a nervous wreck. He’d only been standing outside your apartment for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. He kept checking his phone to distract himself. Just as he was starting to question if this had been a good idea, the door flung open.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned into a thin line. You answered the door in a fucking towel. He began opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had been plucked from the water. You giggled innocently like it was perfectly normal to answer the door nearly naked.

“You’re here a little earlier than I expected! I just got out of the shower. Come on in,” you moved to the side to give him room to walk through the door into your small apartment. You were sure to not move completely out of the way so he’d have to almost brush against your chest. You could feel him stiffen and hold his breath as he passed by.

This was going to be so much fun…

*****

Tomura’s dick had been painfully hard the moment he’d seen you in that towel. Luckily, when you’d gone into your bedroom to get dressed, he was able to position it in his waistband so he wouldn’t be pitching a tent in front of you. The thought of you noticing him popping a boner just by looking at you in a towel was mortifying.

However, what you decided to change into didn’t help his situation. Your baby pink terry cloth shorts would have shown the curve of your ass had it not been for the little row of ruffles around the bottom. Your tank top, the same baby pink color as your shorts, was pulled tight across your chest (holy shit, were you not wearing a bra?!). A fleeting glance at your chest proved to Tomura that you definitely were not wearing a bra.

“You can come on back,” you beckoned from the doorway of your bedroom, “I thought we’d be more comfortable in here…”

He gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans before nodding and rising to walk towards you. Your room was foreign to him. Decorated with all shades of pink and purple, soft, plush bedding, and a soft pink glow emanated from the LED strip lights that lined the walls. Tomura stood awkwardly, looking around for a chair to sit in when you flopped onto your bed and began pulling up the streaming app on your tv.

You looked up at him sweetly and patted the spot on the plush comforter next to you. “Come sit, Tomu! You don’t have to stand way over there. I don’t stink, ya know,” the wink you gave him made his knees buckle.

“Umm,” he chuckled nervously, “No, of course not. You, uhh… you smell…”

No, you were way too close. This was bad. There’s no way he would be able to string together a coherent thought, much less hold an actual conversation with you. You pout and lean in even closer to him.

“Tomuuuuu!” fuck, he hated that he loved that stupid nickname, “You think I smell?!”

“What?! N-no, not at all. I was trying to say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you tilted your head to the side offering up your neck for him to smell and he swears his eyes crossed as he tried to absorb what was happening.

“I even wore my new perfume! Go on, smell. Tell me what you think,” you smirk looking out of the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

You were teasing him, he knew you were, but his dick was so hard that he was completely at your mercy. He leaned in to take a tentative sniff and his eyes wandered lower. His breath hitched when he noticed the outline of your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank top. Before he knew what was happening, you turned your face forward and put your mouth next to his ear.

“Are you looking down my shirt, you pervert?” you purred. Tomura made some sort of incoherent noise and pulled away.

You laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully, “Geeze, I’m just kidding! You’re wound so tight.” you pause making a thoughtful face.

“Oh, I know how to help! Come on, over here,” you pulled him between your spread thighs and proceeded to rub his shoulders, working out all of the knots in his lean back.

After a few seconds, Tomura began to relax into your touch, slumping slightly and letting out a tiny sigh. He was deathly still the entire time you massaged him. He was terrified if he moved too much that his raging boner would free itself from his waistband. When your hands left his shoulders, he started to move away just to be pulled back into your lap. His head landed in your cleavage as your hands trailed down his chest.

“Hmm, so tense, Tomu,” you whispered into the crown of his hair, “Is my massage not working?”

He wanted to yell that of course he was tensed up. That his dick is the hardest it’s ever been in his life and if he doesn’t hold as still as possible, he’s scared he might start humping the air like a pathetic dog. Before he can answer, your hand trails down to the waistband of his jeans, and he freezes. The tips of your fingers brush across his leaking tip and Tomura lets out a low, needy moan before he can stop himself.

“Just what I thought,” you purred as you began to trail your fingers up and down the hard bulge in his jeans, “Pathetic. Look at you, so fucking hard for me. And all I did was rub your shoulders.” He wanted to defend himself, but all he could do was whine as his eyes rolled in the back of his head while you continued touching him through his jeans.

“And to think, I never thought you’d want anything to do with some fake bimbo like me. Because I only game and watch anime for attention, right?” you squeeze his cock through his jeans, causing him to yelp. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, incel? Wanna tell me why your dick is this hard for me if I’m so annoying to you?”

The realization that Dabi had told you everything flitted through the back of his mind, but he didn’t have room in his brain right then to be mad at him. He had to do whatever he needed to do to keep you touching him.

“I, ahh... I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered pathetically. The front of his jeans was wet from your teasing and the denim was rubbing him raw through his thin boxers, “D-didn’t, fuck, didn’t mean it like… ahh, l-like th-that.”

You loved how easily you could wreck him. You pet his hair back from his sweaty brow as you cooed at him lovingly.

“You know,” you removed your hand from the front of his jeans and he whined from the lack of friction, “You really hurt my feelings, baby. I thought you were so cool and the whole time, behind my back, you said just mean things about me.”

He sat up and turned to face you. His pathetic, needy gaze shot straight to your core. The power you held made you drunk and you desperately wanted more.

“No, no no no…” he grabbed your hands and you realized how clammy they were, “I’m-I’m so sorry. Please! Please…”

“Hmm,” you studied him for a moment, “Well… There might be a way you could make me feel a little better.” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “You were so mean to me.”

“Anything! Please! I-I’ll do anything for you!” desperation started creeping in, thinking you’d leave him hanging with no relief. Little did he know, you had no intention of letting him go any time soon. Your plush lips curled into a devious smile. A soft hand reached up cupping his jaw.

“What a good boy, Tomu,” a tremor passed through his body. You reached over to your nightstand and pulled out the collar you’d taken the selfie in.

“You know,” the collar danced between your painted nails, “This also came with a leash. I was thinking,” your lust-filled eyes meet his, “If you wanted to be a good boy for me… You’d let me see how pretty it looks around your neck.”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes rapidly moving between your eyes and the collar you held. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. You giggled and clapped your hands together excitedly leaping off the bed. You returned with a short, chain-link leash.

“Now,” you leaned in and fastened the collar around his neck. Your bodies were centimeters apart and Tomura thought he might pass out, “When you’re wearing your collar, you don’t call me Y/N,” you nudge his ear with your nose and whisper, “You call me ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?” you feel him nod against your face.

“That’s not how good boys answer their Mommy. When you answer me, you say, ‘Yes Mommy’ or ‘No Mommy.’ Is that clear?”

“Y-yes… Mommy.”

“Mmm, what a good boy,” you placed a soft kiss on his neck and he let out the most delicious whimper. You hooked a finger through the ring on the front of the collar, “You’re gonna go sit in Mommy’s gaming chair and let her use you as a toy. Okay?”

Tomura’s head was spinning and he almost couldn’t answer until you jerked him by his collar, “Y-yes, Mommy. Please, please make me your toy.”

You stood and dragged him over to your chair and made him sit, “What a polite boy you are! Saying ‘please’ without being asked. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward,” his belt buckle rattled as you worked his jeans down his narrow hips.

A ragged breath escaped his chapped lips as you removed your tiny shorts revealing a black, lace thong. You straddled his lap, your dripping slit hovering a centimeter over the angry, leaking head of his cock. His hands shook as you placed them on your hips and slowly moved your thong to the side. Descending an inch at a time, only teasing his tip, was causing him to come undone underneath you.

“You’re already so close and I’ve only put the tip in. You better be a good boy and not come until I tell you to or you’re going to be punished,” you pushed another couple of inches inside and he nearly wept.

“I-I’m trying, M-mommy! I wanna be a good boy!”

“Mmm, I know, baby. You’re doing so,” another inch, “So…” and another, “Well.” you were fully seated on his cock now. Tomura knew he wouldn’t last. Your velvet walls were sucking him down harder than anything ever had before. It made his fleshlight feel like it was made of sandpaper. You had ruined him for anything else.

With a few rolls of your hips and some high, airy moans, he was about to bust. “Mommy! Mommy, please! I-I’m g-gonna…”

“Tomu,” your voice was authoritative now, “If you come in Mommy’s pussy, I’m going to make you clean it out with your tongue then I’m going to sit on your face until I come as many times as I want.” your hand wrapped around his throat and you started bouncing on his cock. Your filthy words and aggressive motions catapulted him into an orgasm.

“You bad, BAD boy,” a smack to his cheek broke off his moans, “You disobeyed me! Did you do that on purpose?” your hand around his neck flexes, “Are you just a dirty incel that wants Mommy to get mean with you? Answer, Tomu!”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Tell Mommy what you are…”

“I-I’m a-a… dirty incel.”

“And what do you want?”

“W-want… want Mommy to b-be mean to me…”

You lift him by the collar and attach the leash. He’s thrown onto the bed and you waste no time hovering your dripping slit over his face.

“Now,” you jerk the leash, “Clean up your mess.”

Tomura knew he should be disgusted right now, but his dick was getting harder by the second. With each lick inside your sloppy hole, he shamelessly moaned against your skin. The vibrations were going straight to your clit, causing you to ride his face harder. This went on until you’d almost reached your peak.

“Oh, baby,” you’re making Mommy feel so, so good, “I-I’m gonna…”

Tomura grabbed your ass and moved you back and forth on his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. You lifted your body giving him a moment to breathe before sitting back down, earning a startled mumble from him.

“Don’t think that’s all,” you laughed and humped his face, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, “Be a good boy and mommy might even let you come…”

Tomura only nodded as he began to eat you again like he was starved. Maybe all the stuff you posted in the Discord server wasn’t so annoying anymore...

#Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x you #bnha smut #tw // mommy kink #tw degradation #tw face sitting #jade writes smut

2K notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA:

youtube

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn.

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn��t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

#bnha 328 #stain (bnha)#tsukauchi naomasa #all might #stars and stripes (bnha)#all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #eta: how did I forget to type 'bnha' in the title sob

195 notes · View notes

novantinuum · 3 years ago

Text

Wip Wednesday 3/23!

As a treat to myself, since I’ve been furiously writing in isolation for months, today I’m sharing the prologue of my AU fic, The Ballad of Aryll: Song of Time. This is probably pretty close to what the final version will be, but keep in mind it has not been officially beta read yet. This will be a special tumblr sneak peek until the time when I finally am ready to post chapters to AO3.

This prologue is around 1.7K words.

Hope you enjoy!

____

Chapter 1: Prologue

Amidst this song’s humble prelude, the soothing release of sunset beckons.

Gentle, formless whispers he can’t begin to apply shape or meaning to caress his mind in an endless breeze, incessantly pressing upon him like he’s a lone plank of driftwood lost at sea, caught amidst an unexpected squall. It’s gentle, yes, but like so many other facets of this world, there’s untold complexity lurking under the surface of every crack and weathered blemish.

Recklessness, where once there was courage.

Ill-fated sentimentality, where once there was wisdom.

Acts of immense violence played out in the name of love.

The canvas behind his eyes is bathed in flickering spots of green and gold as he continues to drift amongst these unintelligible whispers. With much effort, he manages to will those tired, weary eyelids to flutter open. He’s greeted by a burst of pale white light, almost too overwhelming in its star-bright aura to derive any coherent threads of meaning from, but a few rapid blinks later and the light’s intensity fades at the edges to reveal a bloom of dazzling colors. A rebirth just as vibrant as the so-named season.

He’s lying in an open, sunny grove… surrounded by lush, green grass and a myriad of wildflowers. The sky’s horizon is etched with a ring of pinkish gold. A deep shudder wracks his numb body as he attempts to make sense of these suspiciously idyllic surroundings. How did he even arrive here? When pressed, he can only recall the faintest flickers of days long past… a sturdy, encouraging hand meeting his shoulder, the stinging sensation of ice-cold rain cutting rivulets down his forehead, half-braided tresses of long blonde hair delicately captured between calloused fingers…

Amidst those formless, undeveloped whispers, a singular voice pushes to the forefront, singing some nameless melody:

“—at peace, it’s all right…

“All our worries fade to light…

“And in—“

The voice is youthful. Somewhat pitchy on the high notes. Moreover, it’s undeniably familiar, a realization that makes his heart ache with sentimental abandon and his left flank twinge in unsolicited discomfort.

He… he must determine where that voice is coming from.

Upon that very thought he finds himself standing upright, actively advancing towards the tree-lined horizon. The walk is well worth the view. The blueish-green limbs of these mighty trees dance and flicker like a living fire. Moreover, as he approaches the outer boundary of the woods he soon realizes they are fire, their shape formed out of a million pulsing, breathing flames woven into a veritable tapestry of light just as complex in its layering as the web of whispers he still hears, much louder now. He exhales heavily, eyes widening in silent awe as he contemplates the meaning of this mesmerizing sight.

And then his glance falls upon a girl perched atop a low stump in the distance. A blonde girl— the very voice he’s been looking for. She’s facing away from him, serenading the forest of light with her song. When he sees her, a blockage in his soul ruptures, and the overwhelmingly numb sensation that’s been holding him captive up until now is suddenly overturned by spellbinding joy. This girl… how does he know this young girl? Who is she to him? How far into the soil do these roots of haunting familiarity reach?

In the nebulous space between heartbeats, he finds himself striding towards her, desperately needing to see her face, to confirm her identity… naïvely believing her as the key to his vacant memory. Long, confident strides transform into a light jog. From that jog, he advances into a sprint. It’s clear there’s strength in these legs, strength enough to propel him across entire kingdoms. But no matter the distance he traverses, the girl grows no closer. His throat grows tight. His fate is clear. She’s nothing but a mirage, a cruel piece of bait set to ensnare a desperate soul such as his. The beginnings of a strained syllable— a name??— bubble up upon his tongue, but it seems memory is not in his favor in this place. No, the sound is struck dead before it can ever be spoken. His chest heaves with overworked exertion as he lurches to a stop, hunching over to anchor himself with hands on knees. Hot, desolate tears threaten to overflow their banks.

H-he… he can’t remember, he can’t reach her, he can’t—

Something in the winds— once thought indelible— shifts.

He’s being pulled away, he dimly recognizes. His body, his mind, his whole spirit. The girl and her song gradually disappear from all perception. So too does the green fire, the wildflower grove, those formless whispers, the very sky itself… shrinking into the distance until they coalesce into a minuscule pinprick of light.

Sunset has ended. And eventually, even that solitary glimmer of day must fade into all-encompassing oblivion.

The last emotion he’s consciously aware of before the long silence that follows is earth-shattering heartbreak.

_______________________________________

Urgent, formless whispers press upon him with a fervid percussion as he drifts at the furthest edge of this realm. They’re muffled, sounding as if they’re coming from the surface, and he’s floating a leviathan’s length under the waves.

Perhaps by subconscious thought, a still, tiny voice emanating from within the fathomless unknown of his very soul beckons him to move. Open your eyes, it commands. Wake up! Hah. He can’t help but balk at the very idea, a childish part of him yearning to remain in this safe, abstract place forever. He’s warm, here— suspended within a nourishing, watery cocoon. How could any other form of existence possibly begin to prove superior?

But alas, these unfamiliar auditory stimuli show no sign of fading away into blissful oblivion, and neither does he.

The whispers drastically increase in volume as the seconds tick onward, transforming into persistent cries. The rusted mechanisms of his mind slowly start to lock into place— turning once again, carving meaning out of those once unintelligible sounds— but certainly not by choice.

At the very periphery of his awareness, he can almost make out…

“—please, please!” the voice— higher pitched, juvenile sounding in tone— says, warbling with distress. “You have to wake up!”

Foreign hands grasp his shoulders now, shaking him with an unexpected vigor.

His chest rapidly expands with a startled gasp for breath as he snaps into full consciousness, the sensation of stale air rushing down his windpipe and into his lungs physically painful. As consequence he’s assailed by a brief fit of coughing. Blinking through the lingering fog, his eyelids part. It’s hard to make out anything concrete amidst such a confusing assault of visual impulses, but he thinks he can see dark stone up above… striated with veins of dimly glowing blue… and a blurry face hovering over him, fringed by long, messy tresses of blonde hair…

Craving a better view of his surroundings, he wills his body to sit upright, a wave of lightheadedness assailing him at the sudden shift in position. He grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before allowing them to flutter open once more.

The blonde figure… It’s a girl. A young girl, with sloppy tears streaming down her ruddy cheeks. She’s wearing light undergarments, and her hair is flattened and damp. Damp? His nose scrunching inwards at the very thought, he quickly takes note of the receding liquid in the large pod they’re both sitting in. He logs this discovery away for later, not yet understanding enough about his situation to form a reasonable hypothesis as to its purpose.

Appearing relieved, the girl shouts something he can’t quite distinguish and launches herself straight at him. Small, clinging arms wrap around his bare torso with a desperation exceeding one’s attachment to the womb. His breath hitches in surprise. Anxious, over-taut muscles respond to this jarring sensory experience on rote instinct, locking in place, his arms hanging stiff at his side. He swears his skin is tingling. As a sensation, this embrace is wholly unfamiliar, as is every other facet of his current surroundings. The strangely textured walls of this chamber, this bizarre contraption he sits in, this girl who’s on the brink of sobbing rivers into his shoulder, and— as he soon discovers— even his own body. Once the child pulls away, allowing him much needed space to breathe, to think, he lifts his forearms to eye’s view.

His skin is deeply marred, streaked with clear evidence of conflict and struggle. Numerous healed-over slash marks cross his arms, and there’s broad, reddened expanses of scarring enveloping the whole left side of his torso, somewhat puckered at the edges. These are merely the most distinct features— he’s sure he could catalogue plenty of subtler scars given time— but damningly, he cannot recall receiving any of these injuries. Not a single one.

Riding on the winds of this rather disturbing revelation, his vision grows spotted and faint, the whole room beginning to swirl around him. His breathing becomes labored, all feeling in his limbs turning to nothing but burning static. Not only is he lost in every aspect of the word, he’s trapped. He’s a wild animal caught in the hunter’s snare. He’s a bug in a display case. He’s a heavy stone sinking straight to the bottom of the lake. Because this chamber… there’s no clear, distinguishable exits in this confined space, no natural light, no food, no context as to his presence here, no—

“Link?” the girl calls in a hoarse voice, firmly shaking him by the arms in a blind attempt to shake him from his stupor. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

Blinking his way through the fog, he peers at this girl for a long, drawn out moment, noting the stark familiarity in her eyes. As his heart pounds rapidly within his rib cage, his aching lungs still acclimating to taking full, deep breaths, a singular thought— a bright pinprick of light shining amidst the inky black expanse— dances across his consciousness:

Sister.

The very concept hits him like a bloody dagger being plunged straight into his chest.

S- she’s my sister…!

He has no real reason to believe this nebulous thought must be true, and yet the more he considers it, the more it feels right.

It’s the only thing about this scenario that feels right.

So what is going on, here?

His attempt at a vocal response ends in nothing but a stammered syllable, his tongue falling limp and his voice strained and scratchy with disuse.

“I-I…”

I don’t know, he realizes with dawning horror.

I don’t know.

#loz #botw #link #aryll #loz fanfic #botw fanfic #legend of zelda #the ballad of aryll #wips #my writing stuff

52 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Tomato - Tomato (one-shot)

Synopsis: One is an international rock-star. The other is his loyal assistant. Both are complete morons in love. Also - she’s allergic to tomatoes, and it is important.

This started off as something completely else. hope you enjoy :D

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Assistant!Reader

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Warnings: two idiots pining for one another, swearing, mentions of allergies and EpiPens

Word count: 3492

Being an assistant to someone famous wasn’t all glamourous parties and wild nights out with celebrities. It was scheduling last minute flights and not sleeping for three days straight as you packed a million bags and then repacked because their stylist sent you knew pieces and the old ones no longer fit the aesthetic of the week. It was also making sure that they were up by six AM with a hot coffee at their bedside ready to help them wake up as you lay out a detailed plan of the day down to the minute, while you yourself basically only had a two-hour nap because you had to finish off 568 handwritten notes to be sent out to each of the contacts in their phone. Or at least that’s what Y/N’s life was like being the personal assistant to none other than the modern-day prince of rock Harry Styles. Said rockstar was actually still asleep when Y/N entered his room, ripping open the curtains and letting in the rising sun. He groaned, pulling up the bedsheets that’d ridden down his form during the night. “Not that I don’t like seeing your gorgeous face in the mornings….” he mumbled into the covers. “But I don’t like seeing your face in the mornings when they start at six bloody AM.” Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to get rid of the sleep that still lingered in her own body. “You were the one that said you’re fine with seeing Lambert at eight for a fitting.” “When did I say that?” Harry scoffed, only the top of his messy bedhead seen from the cocoon he’d built around himself. “Would you like me to pull up the text messages, the calendar or the e-mails?” Even with her back turned as she rummaged through his closet for him to put on some clothes, she could sense the middle finger he threw at her, and she smiled. Despite everything, despite the zero sleep and stress always coursing through her veins, Y/N loved working for him. He treated her as a friend, not just some lackey he paid to, but most importantly, comparatively to the other people she’d worked for in the same line of business – he treated her as a human. If something went over the deadline, Harry didn’t scream or yell at her and tell Y/N how incompetent she was, instead he asked what kind of help or assistance she needed to get the job done, or maybe if she just needed some time off to gather herself and look at the problem with fresh eyes. “I hate how organised you are,” Harry groaned, finally throwing the covers off. “If I wasn’t, you’d be in a ditch somewhere.” She heard him scoff and two feet plop against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards her. “Is that how little faith you have in me?” “You don’t even know what day it is!” “Who does in these times?” Y/N shrugged her shoulders and handed him a pair of boxers, some loose jeans, and a flowery Hawaiian shirt. “Are you telling me I’m wrong though?” She looked over to her side, a smirk playing on her lips while he squinted his green eyes at her. “No, but it doesn’t mean I like getting called out, especially this early in the morning.”

With a roll of her eyes and a shove at his shoulder for him to move to the bathroom, Y/N handed him the clothes, moving downstairs to start making him some light breakfast and get herself a cold glass of water. You see, she’d been working as his assistant for close to two years, and they’d grown not only as people around one another, challenging their beliefs and world views, but as friends too. And, well, Y/N would be lying if the emotions hadn’t evolved from platonic to falling in love. Not that she’d ever admit it. He was an international sensation, and she was the girl who got him vegetarian croissants at the airport. She dragged a hand down her face as she clicked the stove on and took out a carton of eggs from the fridge. Y/N knew how he liked his omelette to the T, mostly because when she’d spent the first night of quarantine with him a year prior right as the pandemic had started, Harry had wanted to do something nice because she couldn’t go and see her family any more, so he’d gotten up at seven to make breakfast for both of them. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked if she had any allergies, so as he added bits of tomatoes, parsley, cheese and scallions, Harry hadn’t expected Y/N’s eyes to go wide at the first bite as she dropped the fork. “Harry…” Her tone had been cautious. “What’s in this?” He was sweating. Was his cooking really that bad? He just wanted to do something nice and there he was screwing everything up. “ ‘S just some of my favourite things. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, I just thought you’d like it.” “I do, but this tastes like it has tomatoes in it.” He nodded. “Yeah. It does.” Gently she smiled at him and pushed the plate a bit further away. “Could you grab me a coat, and if you have any – an EpiPen?” “An Epi – oh shit!” When the realisation hit him, Harry was jumping out of his seat, running to one of the cupboards and rummaging through in a panic all the while apologies flew non-stop from his mouth. Y/N in the meantime had gathered her purse and mask, making a call to the nearest hospital to explain the situation to which they responded they’d be waiting for her arrival. “I’m so sorry!” Harry ran up to her, a first-aid kit in his shaking hands. “Please don’t die! I didn’t want to kill you, I promise! I just wanted to make you some breakfast cause you do so much for me, and now you’re stuck here, and – oh god,” he cried. “I’m going to be prosecuted for killing my assistant.” She didn’t mean to, but the snort came out of her nose either way. “Harry.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please calm down. I’m not going to die.” “You’re allergic!” “Yes, I am, but I only had a small bite. The ER is just a precaution.” Y/N took his palms in hers and squeezed them. “Now take a deep breath with me…” They did so, holding it for five seconds and letting it out for eight. “And calm down a bit. I’ll go give myself the shot, and then I’ll drive to the hospital.” “Let me,” Harry begged. “Please, let me at least drive you to the emergency room. God, I almost killed you with an omelette, it’s the least I can do. I – I could also help you with the shot, I won’t hit an artery, I promise -” “Harry, you’re barely coherent. Not to say anything, but you’d have a bigger chance of killing me in a car crash, than from that tomato.” Y/N gave him a smile. “I’m gonna be fine.” With that, she left him to venture into the bathroom and did the unpleasant part of stabbing herself in the thigh to alleviate her body from the allergy symptoms. She sat there for around five minutes before she felt that the swelling of her tongue and itching in her throat was starting to subside, which meant the epinephrine was working. “Okay,” she huffed, taking her purse from the couch where Harry had been sitting, hugging the accessory. “I’ll be back in probably around two hours. Do we need anything from the store?” He shook his head. “Just come back home, please.” Y/N would never admit how her heart thundered in her chest when Harry said to come back ‘home’. “I will.” She promised. “Don’t you worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Styles. The money’s too good.” She winked at him and then left Harry pouting on the couch, but she couldn’t get through the door, before he jumped up, yelling, “wait! Do I need to get rid of every tomato in the house?” “No,” she laughed. “I’m good to be around them. Even touch them. ‘S just my insides that don’t agree with it when they meet.” “Okay.” He nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll uh – I’ll be waiting. I’ll make you something else.” “There’s no need for that, Harry.” His eyes widened at her words. “I swear I’m not trying to murder you!” “Oh my god,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just – just relax. Okay. I’ll send you hourly updates.” He bit his lip. “Make it every ten minutes.” “Harry –,” “Please?” The way he was giving her puppy dog eyes melted her heart. With an eye-roll, Y/N waved at him and promised to update her boss at every possible moment and confirm that he hadn’t, in fact, been the reason for her demise. Well, he was the reason for the demise of her low standards in men, having taken them and thrown them up to the Moon, but unless her feelings were miraculously requited or if one of the Marvel characters, she was obsessed with came to life, she’d have to stick to what was available. And in her mind, that wasn’t Harry. “What are you thinking about?” His voice startled Y/N out of the memory, and she shook her head, adding salt and pepper to the beaten eggs. She shrugged. “Just about that time a year ago where you secretly tried to off me because you were too nice to say you didn’t wanna quarantine together.” The groan he let out was of royal embarrassment, and it put a wide smile on her face, as she took one of the forsaken fruits and started to chop the red ball into small pieces. “You’ll never let me live it down, are you?” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Your failed murder attempt?” She snorted. “Of course not! It’s like you don’t watch the crime shows and murder documentaries when I have them on. You really haven’t learned anything.” Harry stuck his tongue out at her and moved to her side, dropping some chives into the mix as well. “Well given how it wasn’t a murder attempt, I wouldn’t consider it a fail.” Her hip bumped his, and only then did Y/N really give him a once-over. As always, he looked amazing in whatever was on his body, but what made him even cuter in her eyes was the sleepiness still lingering in him. Harry’s movements were a little bit sluggish, eyes half-closed and small sighs passing his lips as he sipped onto the coffee she’d come to his place with. The shirt sat loosely on his body, the first two buttons left open while he’d tucked the bottom of it into the jeans, having found a Gucci belt and cinched it around his waist, giving it a more eighties look rather than the sixties vibe he usually had with his suits. The brown hair was still messy and dishevelled, and Y/N could barely, just barely restrain herself from running her fingers through it, but what she didn’t know Harry was struggling just as much. All he wanted to do was pull out the bottom lip Y/N had gotten in between her teeth and kiss her senseless, to have her fingers dig into his arms and leave crescent shaped imprints on his skin. “So, uh…” He had to start a conversation otherwise his mouth would find itself on Y/N’s mouth in a second. “What’s Lambert got in his schedule? How many outfits is he thinking?” “Two or three, I think,” she said, pouring the mixture on the pan and letting the slow sizzle erupt around them. “He’s got this one suit which I think you’ll really like – all leather, but it needs to be altered.” Harry hummed, and for a second both of them relished in the domestic feel of it all. They’d had many moments like it before, especially during the spring and summer seasons of 2020, and Y/N couldn’t help but relish in her memories at them. “Harry?” It was like her voice snapped him out from a trance. “Could you pass me a plate please?’ “Uh, yeah,” he stammered for a moment and then nodded, wordlessly going to a cupboard and taking out a white marbled plate. That single piece of kitchenware probably cost more than her life insurance, but it was definitely aesthetic if nothing else. Silently Y/N plopped the omelette onto the plate, placing it on the kitchen counter and went to get him a fork, however when she turned around, he was facing her, chewing quite agressively on the inside of his cheek. “You okay?” she asked, coming closer. “I can call Lambert, reschedule it for later. He wouldn’t be too happy about having to wake up and then – “ But Harry shook his head. “It’s not that.” “Then what?” He didn’t say anything. It was like he was trying to decipher the best course of action, and when he ultimately did, Y/N was pressed up against the counter, Harry’s forehead against hers with two ring-clad hands cupping her cheeks. “Harry,” she breathed, out her lips brushing his making the air in her lungs hitch. “What are you doing?” “Something I’ve been dying to do for a year now. If you let me that is.” “I -,” The words were muddled up in her head. Of course, Y/N wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to ravish every part of her body. The fantasies and dreams she’d had at night would be incriminating proof if her feelings were on trial, but despite it all, her brain was usually in charge and would overrule any decision made by her heart. “Harry, we can’t.” She whispered, voice breaking. “I -,” Horror morphed onto his features as he took a step back. “Did I misread the signals? Did I do something you don’t wan –“ “No.” She grabbed onto his cheeks, trying to calm him down, his body practically melting into hers. “I do.” She didn’t need to explain what she meant. He understood. “So much it hurts me sometimes… but Harry, you’re my boss. My employer. It… it wouldn’t be right.” “Why? How can it not be right, when it feels like the rightest thing in the world?” “Because, Harry,” she huffed. “You’re my boss. And what’s worse – I love working for you!” That made both of them laugh, the tone of her voice as if she was more annoyed than anything else. “ ‘Nd why’s that bad?” He nudged her nose with his. “I’d hope my employees like working with me. What kind of a person would I be if I thrived on them being miserable?” “Because if I didn’t, quitting would be easy.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “And if I quit there’d be nothing stopping us from dating.” Harry bit his lip, finger trailing along her cheekbone. “There’s nothing stopping us now either. There is no clause in your contract that says you can’t date people who you work for or with. Sarah’s with Mitch, and they’re the happiest they’ve ever been. They’re even having a baby…” Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know. But that’s different. They’re on equal levels. You and I, however… I don’t want people to think I got my job because I slept with you, or some shit. It’s bad enough some already do so.” His brows furrowed, and Y/N saw how his jaw clenched. “Who?” “Strangers.” She shrugged. “I know you don’t look at comments like that online, but I see them. My DMs are filled with that. Gossip magazines. The point is – there are already unsubstantiated rumours about us. This would give them the confirmation they’d need.” “How can it confirm something that’s not true?” “There are still people who believe vaccines cause autism. Even when their ‘proof’ has been discredited and shown to be just complete bullshit, most don’t like to admit they’re wrong, so they’ll look for whatever tells them they’re right.” Harry huffed throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. “So, where does that leave us? In love, but without being able to do anything about it? Because I can’t.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to just pass you by without kissing you, or not pull you into the bed when you wake me up, or press you against the wall and not have my head between these two gorgeous legs.” Y/N groaned slapping his chest and dropping her forehead against his peck. “That is so unfair. Why do you have to tease me like that!” “Oh, sweetheart.” The rumble was deep and shot a wave of heat straight to her core. “This is no teasing.” The smirk on his face when she looked up at him was shit-eating. “Trust me, if I was teasing, you’d be begging for me.” She’d imagined him between her thighs more times than it was appropriate considering he was her boss, but hot damn, did it feel amazing when his lips crashed onto hers, and she let him. In her dreams, his lips hadn’t been just pressed to her mouth but other places which were more south, but it was still one of the best feelings in the world. The kiss left them both breathless, and grinning and satisfied, yet begging for more, teeth nipping at the soft flesh. “I’ll put out an official statement, if you want,” Harry muttered against her mouth, unable to stop pecking her lips now that’d he’d gotten a taste. “But please, please, please… for both our sanities go out on a date with me.” It seemed like Y/N was the one contemplating the best plan of action now when her brows furrowed and she looked up at him, pressing and unpressing her lips, as the swelling from the kiss grew. “Did you by any chance have a piece of that omelette already?” She had a suspicion it wasn’t just from the kiss. His eyes widened, and then his head dropped to her shoulder. “Not again!” Y/N rolled her eyes lifting his face by the chin so he would look at her. “How about EpiPen first?” “Fair enough,” Harry grumbled unlatching himself from her and going for his keys and wallet, already preparing for the short drive they’d have to take. “But then a date?” She raised her eyebrow, taking out the box Harry now kept under the sink with at least three EpiPen’s for emergencies. “In a hospital?” “We could be going dumpster diving for all I care, and I’d count it as a date.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to do so much better than that; you’ve almost put me in anaphylactic shock twice. Now come on.” She motioned with her head towards the bathroom. “Stab me and take me to the ER.” “Fucking tomatoes,” Harry grumbled, taking her by the hand and not letting it go even for the short walk. “Tomato-tomato, you’re the one that kissed me.” “That I don’t regret.” Y/N smiled, turning towards him, and taking him by the nape of his neck pulled Harry down for one more kiss, groaning at the feeling of his tongue dancing against hers. “Y/N!” He pulled back with a gasp, shock on his face. She just shrugged her shoulders. “We’re already going to see the doctors anyway.” Harry pushed her shoulder and made her sit down onto the toilet. “Take your pants off before my kisses kill you.” “Yes, daddy.” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows as Harry moaned, squeezing her calf. His eyes were dark as he looked up at her. “Next time this happens, you’ll be begging me.” Her wicked smile was so full of happiness he couldn’t help the one that grew on his face. “I’ll be keeping you to it. Now, dear sir.” She handed him the EpiPen. “Hit me with your best shot.” And although it’d been now two times in their lives where Harry trying to do something good and make the other feel just as good had done pretty much the opposite, when they got to the emergency room, their smiles could be felt even under their masks Harry watched with blushing cheeks as Y/N explained the situation to the nurse, especially when one of them threw him an unsavoury glance, eyebrow raised high as if saying ‘again? One time wasn’t enough?’. “No more tomatoes.” He promised. “And also - it wasn’t on purpose!” Y/N squeezed his palm, chuckling. She may not be able to give a shot at eating a tomato, but she sure as hell was going to give Harry one. After all, she had almost died for the man. Twice.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland @raylovessarcasm @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @harryhub

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: I’m at work and I wanted to write a bit for my book, but hahahahahahaha I can’t stop procrastinating. Also, this was something comepletely else centered around Christmas, then New Year and the Valentines, but I just couldn’t and it morphed into this. Maybe this Holiday season when it rolls around I’ll post it :D

P.S. if anyone’s had a septoplasty (repositioning of the septum) - how was it? how painful is it? kinda starting my journey towards it cause apparently I can’t breathe out of my left nostril, but I’m kinda scared ngl. I’ve read some horror stories about having holes and pieces of the cartilage fall out afterwards :///

P.S.S. what did ya think? my tags are always open, just drop a message if you wanna be added :)

P.S.S.S please don’t plagiarise or repost my work on other platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles au #fanfic #fanfics #one direction #one direction imagine #1d fan fiction #1d

1K notes · View notes