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unapologetic-and-aesthetic · 7 months ago

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A crule dream

Ace x gn!reader

Series: Telling them they are pretty

Description: You and Ace have been close friends, sharing companionship on the Moby-Dick for a long time now. As Ace seemingly finds himself in a dream of you, his bottled up feelings for you bubble to the surface, he has nothing to lose in a dream after all.

Header: by me ✨

Themes: Friends to Lovers, kinda; Idiots to Lovers, kinda; first Kiss; Angst with open ending; but its hinted at to be a happy ending; drunken kissing; mentions of alcohol and drunkenness; Ace is alive and well, what is this Marineford you are talking about.

Note: This has been sitting on my iPad since Febuary?! What is time even?! Its been a while since i posted a fanfiction of mine on the World Wide Webz, so i am a bit nervous about this. Also my first time writing gn!reader, so i‘m still getting used to it. This was supposed to be a little drabble but it kinda went of the rails :‘), this poor sad-boy needs a hug so badly.

It will be the first entry in a series about telling One Piece characters they are pretty. I am no native englisch speaker so please be kind in the comments. I appreciate every bit of feedback from you! Enjoy! ✨

And thank you to @fanaticsnail for being an inspiration to me for the past month or so, you are amazing!

The atmosphere on the Moby-Dick almost felt like a dream, it was all so effortlessly light-hearted today. The soft pinks and blues of the sunset faded perfectly into the dark night sky on the horizon, already dotted with softly shining stars.

You sat in the crow's nest together with Ace and enjoyed some quietness away from the lively party that was unfolding on deck down below. The crow's nest has always been your spot together.

Ace had one too many already, he read about Luffy in the newspaper today. It got him sentimental again, you knew it all too well. His laughter was always a little too loud after that. You wouldn‘t press him to talk about it, instead trying to comfort him with your company. You two were friends, close friends, you had each other's backs in any situation, even tho he was your commander. He never let you think for a moment this hierarchy was standing between you two. He valued your input and asked for your opinion on things frequently.

You and Ace stared off at the horizon in comfortable silence, sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, leaning against the mast. He could feel his thoughts drifting away, eyes wandering from star to star, the laughter of the crew down below fading into the background. There was only your warmth beside him now.

„Hey Ace, you are pretty! But you know that, right?!“, that snapped him out of his trance. He slowly turned his head towards you as you grinned up to him cheekily.

„Like how?“ his face turned into a confident grin as well. He was sure you were just joking around. The next thing you‘d say would be something along the lines of „pretty dumb“ or „in pretty deep shit“, and you both would laugh.

But instead of quipping a joke, you were quiet for a moment, studying his face intently. Why were your eyes suddenly so serious? He blinked, feeling your eyes on himself so intently made him a little nervous all of a sudden.

„Well… I like your freckles and your sharp nose… I think that's pretty.“ you said, taking a sip from your bottle. „Oh, and your hair!“ you reached up to touch the tip of a black hairstrand, that was closest to you. A small giggle escaped your lips at his dumbfounded expression.

He was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes looking into yours, seemingly searching for something. This must be one of his dreams, he must have dosed off again.

Sometimes when that happened, his dreams would be so realistic and sometimes so cruel. Like this one. He would dream of Sabo, Luffy and himself reunited and having a drink together, or seeing Yamato again or… well… for you to finally reciprocate his feelings. When he would wake up, he would remember most of it, which left him with a somber feeling for a few hours or even days.

Despite his tender feelings for you, he would never make a move, his position as devision-commander made it difficult, not to mention your close friendship. You were too important for him to ruin it all just like that.

This must be a dream then. Everything felt so light and soft right now.. and you would never say these things to him in reality. Pinpointing his insecurities as something you felt were beautiful? That would be too good to be true. He didn't deserve this to happen to him, he thought at that moment. He studied your face, taking in all the little details he had put to memory so many times before. The soft light of the sunset making your features soft, almost dream-like.

It was a dream, he was sure of it! So why not indulge?! Nothing had consequences right now, it was a dream after all. And he felt so lonely lately, the longing he felt for you has been eating him up inside.

You blinked at him, your face slowly becoming warmer with any moment he stared so intensely at you. You opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

„I see…“ his low voice was merely a whisper as he leaned in and gently took your face into his hands. His heart skipped a beat at your surprised expression. And was that a blush around your nose? So cute, he thought. The rough skin of his thumb caressed softly over your cheeks.

Your name fell from his lips, quietly, longingly, as if he could scare you away if it was any louder. He leaned in further, his nose brushing against yours.

„I want to kiss you for so long now…“ he all but whispered before pressing his lips to yours. It was a bit rough, but he wanted to pour every ounce of longing into this kiss he had harboured for the past year. Ace wanted to relieve his lonely heart of some pain. You froze up for a second, taken aback by the sudden feeling of his lips against yours, but you quickly found yourself enjoying it.

Your hands wandered behind his neck, as he moved his soft lips against yours. He wanted to know how you taste like and what beautiful noises could fall from your lips. You where gently holding him close, searching for something to hold onto while he pressed you closer to his chest and deepend the kiss.

A sigh fell between the two of you as he coxed your head to the side gently. You completely gave in to his kiss as his tonge brushed yours, letting him dominate your mouth. A million butterflies erupted in his stomach, a tingle went up his spine as you two moved in sync. He softly explored your mouth with his tounghe, brushing with yours in the procces as you did the same, which made him gasp into your mouth.

Yes, he thought, this feels right, kissing you felt so natural to him. Your body fit so well in his strong arms. He gently bit your lower lip as he slowly left your lips, both of you gasping for air, still close to one another.

His heart was banging against his ribcage, an intense blush spread across his face. Oh, he never wanted to let you go. His thumb gently brushed over your lower lip, red and swollen from the kiss you‘ve shared. You where at a loss for words, looking up to him throuhg your eyelashes bashfuly.

„Gods, I want to do this with you all the time, not only in my dreams.“ his gaze held an intense longing as he watched the soft light dance around your features “You are so beautiful right now…“ he whispered to you. „No. You are beautiful all the time,“ he corrected himself.

You gasped at his words. Shocked by his sudden outburst of passion and by yourself, indulging in a drunken kiss with your best friend. The kiss has left you lightheaded and it took you a moment to gather your thoughts to respond. He looked so dreamy right now, and so happy, you haven‘t seen him like that in a while. It made your heart soar.

„Ace, what…?“ you wanted answers, what dream was he talking about. Where was this coming from? But you were incapable of forming a straight sentence right now.

Suddenly, his eyes fell shut and his head lulled forward onto your shoulder, still holding you in his arms. „Ace?!“ you looked down to him, his head almosed nuzzled into the crook of your neck peacefully.

That bumbass dared to fall asleep right now?! After what just happened?!

Your head became clearer as you lingered in this position with him. As you began to think, your chest tightened, what was that all about?! And for how long would he sleep now? From experience you knew, that was unpredictable.

But you have an important mission tomorrow morning! You couldn't wait until he woke up and talk this out with him right now. It was already very late for you and you didn‘t wanna mess up tomorrow.

And would talking even be feasable? He might not even remember any of this. Maybe you could go back to your friendship as it was before then!

Thought after thought crashed down on you. And the worst one was: Would he regret kissing you, his close friend, if he remembered? Now…that would break your heart.

The waves didn‘t stop crashing, taking you with them into a spiral. What would your Crewmembers think?! What would Marco think!? Or your captain if he ever found out?!

Your breath got quicker and the fuzzy feeling in your chest quickly made way for a tight knot, making it more difficult to breathe.

„I am so sorry Ace“ you whispered to him as you gently leaned his sleeping body against the mast. The waves of emotions took you with them, you had no chance. The coil in your chest was unbearable now, you felt like crying. After one last tearful look at his peaceful sleeping face, you stood up and ran to your quarters, hoping no one saw you leaving the crows nest.

As the questions and thoughts flooded in, you barely took in your surroundings. The mission was so unimportant to you right now. Absentmindedly, you trotted after your team members, just going through the motions. It was a simple scouting mission anyway.

You tried to stop the thoughts and the guilt that where flooding you, but it was no use. Your head wandered to Ace and the kiss time and time again. You could still feel his lips on yours, his soft voice saying these sweet things to you and is warm embrace holding you so gently. What would happen now after this? You clutched your cest to stop your heart from beating so fast, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.

"Hey, did you hear!? Ace made out with a crewmember yesterday!“ your head snapped up at your teammembers comment. How did they know already?!

Another one laughed “There is always a rumour about him and some crewmember making out at a party. You shouldn't believe everything you hear!“ the elder one gave the newbie a pat on the back.

This fired up the storm of anxiety inside you. So it was just a little makeout for him then!? No… you knew it was more. It meant more to you, at least. And you wanted to believe it was more for him as well. You knew about his little flings here and there.

What if he was just in the mood, and you where the next available option? You frowned at that nasty thought about you friend. Ace was better then his. But what would the crew think about you when they figured it out? What would they think about Ace?!

- Ace had slept until midday, waking up in the crow‘s nest, still in the position you left him in the previous night. He felt disoriented and had a terrible headache from the booze he had the evening before.

And something else felt wrong, it felt like he had had a dream inside a dream, that had never happened before. Ace scratched his head, tilting it to the side wondering. One of the dreams was about Luffy and a giant snake. They fought it together and then ate it. The other one was about you… and you two had kissed. That one he liked the most out of the two.

He sat up and stretched his arms and upper back, looking around for you in the process. But you weren't there with him in the crow‘s nest, unlike in his dream. As he looked around taking in his surroundings, and it slowly dawned on him. The exact place he was in right now seemed so familliar.

Oh no.

He jumped up with a scream of horror. That with you was no dream at all! He kissed you and said all these things for real. And he didn't even ask for your consent before kissing you! His breath got quicker as he tried to remember what exactly had happened yesterday.

Ace really kissed you… he grabbed you by the face even to hold you in place. And you looked surprised at that. Or was it shock on your face?!

He grunted, a feeling of dread creeping into his stomach. His memory was failing him, everything was so blurry.

Did you kiss him back? Or did you say anything at all? That's where it was all blurry for him. He remembered how good it felt to him. But what did you say to him? What did you do? He also remembered you tensed up when he smashed his lips to yours. That wasn‘t a good sign. The dread crawled up his spine lowly.

„Fuck… no,“ he took his hat that was laying on the ground where he slept and raged a hand through his hair before putting it on, just to shove it deep into his eyes.

“No, no, no!“ he wispered to himself under is breath, frozen for a moment and unsure what to do now. Go look for you and talk to you? And then what!? Admit his feelings and possibly destroy your friendship?!

He didn't deserve someone like you at all. You were way too good for him. So brave, and kind. You gave out your love so freely, without fear. Unlike him. You would never accept the feelings of a downer such as him.

Maybe he could backpaddle and say he was just very drunk? That might save your friendship. But he still kinda forced himself onto you. So the friendship was likely unrepairable already.

And it was all his fault. If someone would have rammed a knive into his chest right now, it would likely have hurt less.

Ace felt sick to his stomach, horrifyed as he imagined how you might be feeling right now. His mind filled in all the gaps his memory left open with crule things. Pictures of you trying to push against his chest to get him away from you, but he was too strong and helt you in his firm grasp. Tears in your eyes as he paused his advances on you for a moment. You running to the sleepingquarters, scared and probably disappointed in him, crying.

And you might not tell anyone about it. Ace was your superior and a well-respected member of the crew. He knew you didn't want to destroy his reputation, you would honour your friendship even after this. So you would stay silent with no one to turn to. And then you would leave the Moby-Dick!

Ace grabbed the mast with one hand, knuckles white, his body shaking. He wanted to throw up, wanted someone to punch him in the face. That was what he deserved.

„Oi! I‘ve been looking for you everywhere,“ it was Marco, coming in to the crow‘s nest behind him. Ace was just standing there, unable to move.

„Are y-,“ Marco stopped talking as he saw Aces trembling back. „Oi, what's wrong!?“ he asked, bridging the gap between them with two long steps. When his comrade didn't respond, Marco grabbed him gently by the shoulder to make Ace face him. His brows furrowed at the horrified expression on the other man's face.

„Ace?! What happened?“ Marco shook his shoulders in an attempt to bring him back to reality. This can‘t be good. „What happened last night!?“

At the question, the black-haired man snapped out of it. Did Marco know something about the incident? Did it already make its rounds? No, that couldn't be! He felt like someone was choking him.

He wispered your name „I kissed them….Marco," Ace confessed "I don't remember everything,“ his voice was shaking. Saying it out loud made the stone in his stomach heavier. „I am a superior….and I forced them to kiss me“ he looked to the ground with empty eyes, flinching as he saw Marcos's face scrunch up out of the corners of his eyes.

Marco was at a loss for words. He was rooting for you two to finally stop being dense and confess your obvious feelings to each other. But this was not what he had in mind. He saw you ran to the bunck with a sorrowful expression last night. With that last puzzle piece, it all made sense to him.

The older man gently pressed his fingertips into Ace's shoulders, trying to ground him. That poor boy was still trembling. He tried to find the words to break the news to him, but Ace was quicker with his question as his head snapped up „Where are they? Did you see them today already?“ he asked with a sense of urgency. „I- I need to apologize!“

„Well… you have some more time to think about what you want to say“ It hurt Marco to see Ace like this, and what he was about to say would hurt him even more. „They have been injured on the mission today and collapsed when they came back – from exaustion and bloodloss."

"What?", the other man's voice sounded dead. This can't be happening. Ace felt like his body was floating.

"It will be okay! It wasn‘t fatal, Ace. I already took care of it all" Marco added quickly, shaking him again as he noticed Ace empty gaze drift off. "Stay with me! I'm here with you. You're not alone." Ace, staring into space while Marco talked to him, bareley registering what he said "Talk to them when they wake up, i‘m sure its going to be fine." Marcos voice sounded far away.

Nothing is going to be okay. Ace had just lost a very important person to him, due to being a drunken mess. He must try everything to do damage controll as soon as he came down from the crows nest.

#one piece #one piece fic #x reader #op ace #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #ace x reader #op ace x reader #one piece x reader #gn reader #portgas ace x y/n

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anticidic · 2 months ago

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45 + dazai/ango for the ask game!! in the spirit of going insane abt them (-> hiii this kavi @blackwaves )

#45: Once Upon a Time — Kamelot

Tell me once upon a time I close my eyes and see myself reborn Righting the wrong I won't stay to stand in line And wait for God to shine all over me I wait for the storm I am you and I know that you heard You and I are the last at the end of the world Then we talk, we run, and we hide Then so what, the human race suffocates?

A gray rain fell on Yokohama. The city soaked in it, cold and dripping.

“What’s it like—carrying the weight of all you’ve done and continue to do, knowing you’ll die just as alone as he did? Knowing he died because you couldn’t say no to the government pulling your strings?”

The question made Ango pause and grip the bouquet tightly. For a moment his eyes screwed shut, deep in thought, and he let out a tired sigh. He straightened up, the flowers dangling uselessly at his side, and he blinked away the rain that slid down an eyebrow. Dazai was a blurry mess of watercolors, and for once he had no urge to polish away the droplets from his glasses. It was better that way—he couldn’t see the rigid, almost pained, expression Dazai aimed at him.

But he felt it. A deep-seated anger draped in ancient sorrow. They were the same in that regard. Between them: little white lies that blew up in their faces, dancing around the past that loomed over them as they remembered the laughs and clinks of glasses under the low lights, a single damned photo up in flames.

It was a nervous shadow cast into the world by him, eating away at reality.

Ango was a mess of apologies, and Dazai sensed that this wasn’t the first time. Made up of years of regret, so inevitably it would come down to this. What did he expect? What did either of them expect? This kind of reality was saddening and infuriating all at once, but his present anger was so hushed and listless, he could barely tighten his trembling hand.

“I already accepted what I’ve done, and I’m well aware that nothing’s really changed between us.” Ango turned back to the gravestone and lowered his head, away from Dazai’s prying gaze. “I’ve had over four years to come to terms with that, Dazai. And I don’t need you reminding me every chance you get.”

“You do it to yourself,” Dazai shot back. “What’s funny is, I haven’t reminded you. This…is the first time I’ve actually brought it up. But I remind you every time we meet, don’t I?” He took a step closer. Then another. The soft earth squished, and he combed his fringe back, shaking the rain from his hair. The cold soaked through his coat and a slight shiver ran up his spine. He could take it. “But here’s the thing: it’s not just you. It never has been just you alone. It’s us both.” His eyes wandered to the flowers, dripping. Sad. A muted splash of color on this terrible spring evening. Even the weeping willow that towered over them with its shivering branches looked more alive. “It’s just sentimentalism, Ango. I can afford to be sentimental. I can also afford to lose.”

Teeth gritted, Ango got down on one knee before the gravestone. He avoided the carved S. ODA initials and set the flowers down in front of it. He mouthed words similar to a prayer, but quickly realized even praying would not turn back time. Things went the way that they did, and he accepted it with great, wide, welcoming arms even as it crushed him having the fingers pointed at him again and again. What would pacify the wrenching feeling in his gut?

Time after time. He had gotten used to it. He did.

But he was also well-versed in lying and couldn’t tell apart his own truths from those he force-fed others. It was just part of the job. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but there was always a villain in someone’s story. And he just so happened to be Dazai’s.

“There’s only now and the future. We cannot live in the past where he remains stuck, because…” Another shuddering breath left Ango’s lips, and he stood up again. “Because he wouldn’t want that. For you. That’s what matters, doesn’t it? You are unburdened by your dark past and have better people surrounding you. I’m still a part of that past, and while things have changed between us that might never recover, I don’t begrudge you.”

Dazai let out a strained laugh and approached Ango, the two merely an arm’s length apart. He narrowed his eyes and looked ready to snatch the glasses from Ango’s face and break them. Instead, a tiny smile played on his lips.

Tiny, mean, and tortured.

Red stained Dazai’s eyes and Ango noticed circles beneath them.

“I want you to hate me. I want you to curse me every time I put you in the hospital and every time I make your life purposefully harder. But you don’t. You still help me out. Help us out. The city. You’re just a government slave doing the dirty work no one else wants to do because no one wants to be the enemy of the people and I wonder, when will you say enough is enough?”

Words of regret. They spoke of shame for the hatred that was carried in the heart for so long. The hatred that seemed to be such an easy, righteous way out. And now? The aftermath of the fury was sadness and the understanding that vengeance was never just.

Ango looked away and removed his glasses to flick away more rain. “I can’t answer that question. It’s precisely because I have to make the most difficult choices that the burden is best left to me. I wiped your record back then knowing that if word got out, I wouldn’t just be put away but be a traitor to the entire country. No one sensible who works for the good of people would want to be an accomplice to a criminal, right?” Glancing back at Dazai, his expression softened slightly. “That’s how it’s supposed to look, at least. We catch bad guys like you. I do because you’d be labeled almost as dangerous as Chuuya with your crimes to the Special Division. But now you’re simply Dazai Osamu, detective of the Armed Detective Agency. You save lives.”

Closing the distance between them, they exchanged silent glances before Ango smiled. A genuine smile. One of relief and like a little weight had been lifted from his chest. Because Dazai was where he belonged—free to circle the skies after escaping his cage. It should’ve been the three of them like this, but Ango also accepted that any way he helped Dazai would not be graciously accepted, but one fact remained: Dazai kept coming back.

The worst pain would’ve been total, utter rejection. He withstood Dazai’s glorious assault knowing that despite the rift between them, they did not become strangers.

“Take care and send the agency my regards. I’m glad we could meet again like this,” Ango said and walked off, but he stopped shortly after. “I’ll look forward to it again next year on this same day. It’s the worst day of all, but we share it.”

Spotify Ask Game!

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd ango #my writing #anticide writes #spotify ask game #asks #cloaked #i'm sorry this is late sdfghjk i wasn't ignoring u i just had Obligations #but omg this song is also so fitting for them they make me want to ugly cry they're so messy and chaotic and UGGGHHHH but it's always Them #i need them to mourn and talk it out but will they ever? NOPE

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butterflyeffect333 · 2 years ago

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A Dayrip to the Past-Part 2

Part 2

"Do you find this place very familiar?" Chocho asked.

Sarada took in the place around her. It's dark, late at night with a cresent moon hanging high above their head. Her mother sitting on a bench dejectedly. What is she doing here alone at such a time?

"This place... isn't this near the entrance of the village?" Sarada noted. "What is Mama doing..." Her words trailed off as she saw her father walking down the road with a backpack in tow.

"They're setting out for mission at this time of the night?" Chocho asked.

"Why are you around here in the middle of the night?" Her father asked.

"I knew you'd come this way if you were to leave..."

Leave? Sarada widened her eyes. Her mother had always been evasive about part of their past. She had sensed her mother trying to blur out certain things, telling her Papa had been away from the village for awhile, but never stating the reason nor the way he left the village. She had thought maybe his tutor took him out for training for a few years, she knew it didn't sit right deep in her heart, but it had been done, hadn't it? Now realization dawned on her, maybe her father had ran away from the village. Maybe her father was a defected shinobi.

While Sarada was deep in thoughts, the scene she had never once dreamed of unfolded in front of her. Her mother begging her father to stay, tears streaming down her eyes, but Papa was determined to leave, she could see it in his eyes.

"I love you with all my heart..." Sakura cried, Sarada could sense the desperation and sadness in her mother's voice.

That was then her father turned around and said with a sarcastic smile, "You really are annoying."

"Don't leave!"

With just a blink of eye, Papa was standing behind Mama.

"Thank you," Sasuke said and then he knocked her out.

Sarada watched with aching heart as Papa carried the collapsed Mama and placed her on a bench. Even though she did not want what's happening in front of her to unfold, she knew deep down that her father would turn around without a pause and walk out of the village without any hesitation. And he really did that, with the crescent moon shining behind him.

"That's... Sarada..." Chocho muttered.

"I know, I am shocked too." She brushed away the drop of tear she had no idea was hanging on her eyelashes until now.

"Don't worry Sarada, you're proof that everything turns out alright in the end!" Chocho tried to cheer her up.

"I know right?" Sarada tried to smile.

"It's like those melodramas Mama love to watch, before the couple get together they have to undergo hate, love, misunderstanding, miscarriages, memory loss and whatnots."

"..." Sarada slapped Chocho on her arm. "Just what kind of dramas are you guys watching! I don't want my parents to undergo those!"

But why did Papa have to go? Why did he defect Konoha? Sarada thought. And he told Mama she's annoying, she must be deeply hurt.

White light again enveloped them.

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

When Sarada opened her eyes, she saw her mother running out of a cave like structure.

"You! What are you after!" Sakura grabbed the collar of the man in front of them.

"Is that..." Chocho asked.

"Uncle Sai!" They both exclaimed at the same moment.

"How many times do you plan to stab us in the back before you're happy?" Sakura demanded.

How many years has passed? Sarada thought. This Mama felt closer to her present day Mama. She no longer looked like a fragile flower that needed to be protected.

Suddenly a voice intruded on them.

"Ah...it's Sakura..."

Sarada saw her mother slowly turned her head, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the man standing in front of her.

"Sasuke-kun..."

Similar to her mother, Papa had also grown, he definitely looked different from his 12 years old self.

"Sarada...this must be where the romance starts?" Chocho hushed excitedly.

"Ha?"

"So insensitive, Sarada," Chocho shook her head while sighing. "Their eyes locked! The wind stopped! That's what Mama had mentioned! Start of an epic romance tale."

"Eh... I am sure it's more from shock from Mama side. And do you think that's romance!" Sarada pointed at the horrific scene in front of them, in which Papa started to attack those present in the scene. Mama included.

"Your father is truly terrifying," Chocho conceded.

Sarada swallowed nervously. She knew everything turned out fine in the end, but this... this was definitely not what she had expected! This was not the father she was used to. She did not know this power hungry, revenge focused, cold and heartless monster. This was definitely not her father! She felt as if a vengeful foreign soul was controlling the body of her father.

She saw her mother sobbing silently after her father had disappeared. The heart break and sadness she could feel from her. She wanted to hug her mother.

"Maybe... that's why Mama never told me anything about their past," Sarada said dejectedly. She buried her face in her hands. She was so confused, did her father really love her mother? She could not feel an ounce of friendly emotion from this foreign person that looked like her father. Let's not talk about romance, not even their previous team 7 comradeship was present. Maybe she had opened a pandora box she should have left untouched.

"Sarada, don't worry! Trust me! As a romance specialist, this is definitely an epic love story in the making!"

"When did you become a romance specialist?"

"Hoho, I have been watching great romance drama with my Mama since I was born. Nothing can escape my eyes. I have the Sharingan for romance!" She pointed her eyes in pride.

"..." Sarada sighed. "I guess we'll find out the answer in the end." No matter good or bad.

White light enclosed them again.

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

"Where are we this time?" Chocho asked excitedly.

"A broken... bridge?" Sarada opened her eyes just in time to see electricity shooting out from her father's hand, someone was lying by his legs. "Papa... was about to kill... is that Aunt Karin?"

"Sasuke-kun!" A familar voice shouted from the other side of the bridge.

"It's you...Sakura." Her father turned and responded, halting his finishing blow.

"Sasuke-kun, I am abandoning the village and coming with you!"

"What is Mama talking about?" Sarada cried.

Sarada did not comprehend what's unfolding in front of her. She had an omnimous feeling. The father standing in front of her felt so foreign, so unnatural. He felt possessed, even a bit unhinged, her hypothesis was further confirmed when she heard her father saying he wanted to destroy Konoha. Her Papa would never... this isn't her Papa.

"If you kill her, I will let you come with me."

Sarada saw her mother walked towards her father until she was just next to Aunt Karin. Her mother had her head down and then she slowly pulled out a kunai. Her hands clutching the kunai hardly as if deciding on something.

Sarada shook her head. "Mama is a healer. This is too cruel of a test. This isn't... isn't... No!" She shrieked in shock and pain as she saw her father attempting to kill her mother from behind. Her instinct took over and ran towards the two of them, "Stop it! Papa!"

She could not make it in time, but Rokudaime appeared at the last second.

"No, this isn't the truth, this is a Genjutsu." Sarada hugged her head in her arms, shaking with shock and fear, fear that this might really be the past. "No... no... this isn't the truth. No... this can't be..."

"Sarada... It's really a Genjutsu," Chocho comforted. "It must be!" she humphed. "Everyone can see what a lovely couple your parents is! And you're living proof!"

Sarada thought back to her stoic yet gentle father and energetic and caring mother. Memories of that time when she made that silly mistake and demanded answers from her father appeared in her mind.

"Do you think that your heart is truly connected to Mom's?"

"Yeah... because we have you, Sarada."

"That's right," Sarada said, "how can I be defeated by such a Genjutsu." She wiped the tears from her eyes with her forearm. "I should trust my Mama and Papa. I should trust my own eyes."

"That's right!"

"Mama?" Sarada shouted in disbelieve once again as she took in the scene in front of her. Her mother had a kunai aiming at the back of her father. At the last second though, for some reason her mother could not continue the stab, her hands trembled, tears flowing down her face. She could feel the heartbreak and sadness from her mother.

Her father spun around and strangled her mother with his hand. Sarada could see it in his eyes, he would kill her if not for Nanadaime's arrival. He was truly unhinged.

"Sarada, it must be a Genjutsu!" Chocho humphed.

"But this seems so real," Sarada said as she listened onto her father's monologue of hatred. If she was in this situation, would she do something similar? Maybe she would. She was her father's daughter afterall.

She clutched her aching heart. She slowly walked towards her mother and did what she had been meaning to do. She hugged her mother.

This isn't Sasuke-kun... this isn't the path you should be on... Even if it costs my life, I will save you from darkness. I have decided on that but why... why can't I kill him. Why am I so useless?

Sarada widened her eyes. Is that Mama's thought?

And then they were once again blinded by the flash of light.

Part 1

#sasusaku #sakura x sasuke #sakura uchiha #sarada uchiha #sasuke #haruno sakura #time travel #fanfiction

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libidomechanica · 12 days ago

Text

“Low kinds existence, beauty cannot pardon”

A Meredith sonnet sequence

The deep; whose shouted, Allah! It seem I and thou will let me no more; and having her bred to be enter’d run to meditate upon the hard although many good; and, running Poetry! Low kinds existence, beauty cannot pardon you hadst be scantly lay, when I feel how far can display herself up to miss it too; the very stranger makes us on his new angles cheated his own better taste, a sadness of wail, and begg’d round her also risk’d her like that tears our closed to bringest in his pair of fair and very age and hands, to flie; I must we the wretch, which to ruined. Wrapped up the wind a wide for tears, that earst seek not, never saw one, seize the voice?

A drowsy frowzy poem, calling the nights before that least a patriot’s shame! Me a bowstring—quite free though of claret, sadness! The Owl and dreams be from the Bashaw was Suwarrow shoulder of their whole millions of the end will tell! So large half equals, not been nurst, but just stands obey— our heart asunder;—then, as is a religion, see! There, light reaches. While I weep! And fourscore cannot our kernel tree: in the strong as that fine example mayst always say, and sings, suck our discord aftermark of almost little too, when too late— yet with all to thy naked of dear, if its own anxiety, his care not why, felt a sounds so; for its term: thence my heart.

He wasted, as e’er is want to shun their dressing, look’dst thou canst not as a fane and garments and left your great good, gave what he was to know our sameness as his comrades to be; but weep for a year, will not cruel, tender bibbers of much thing seems, then, thoughtless or might days we would be found more: I cannot now; but these! As ever in his reveller. Now to go to rear’d quite. When the village steepes out it is digestions treasured up in short armistice that in a heat, but as I was you never to his friends will leaves, or on my Genevieve, to her for a questions fill with a tighten’d. Prince, and Gouls in the spake, and then wicked wives in sweet, so pick it—for life!

Where the vinous Greek; those left branches hast would be ne’er by their teens; but whether nieces shines like South, rose over thou pine after near, surely in it: i’ve known; but aye she sat down in copying to be shown lucus a non lucent mist, diversion, and bony growth in that he knew what wilderness was he, since, all laughing; a pipe, thy groves, and now we paused to rear to stab herself had drunk, or wait to heaven, and convent, whilst we building to the dagger cloud, so beautiful. But worn the great as an improvince of the beginnes to Homer’s glory gaping o’er dropp’d; but I must instance, Glory’s gloom, haughty and for so faint, budding too has panters and died.

To offend the heart asunder;—then, I see our ultimate Alexander! In nature for certain age, ’ which means be brink of proof of Love’s topmost provoking; but little to! And vouches both their reflection on the blue of his bride’s beard, she toils a son leaves her tyrant was on trembling, wonder’d in vain: Her trees because I lay. There are at length, in the sends her of blood, but by their better, nor serve a Sultan just be gallants, e’er she canopy of his daughter: the pine its rose, and I, its crown’d. And them t is at rested one blush of every couch is not run away, and scorned at you mayst thou melt my hear each moments because you know each Turkish Dandy.

’Er you canst they beardless wars’—I am so confusion far by sweet or Mufti, unless he that in a genial savour. Yet the heirs. And, and to tell: what is—ask thee not well: we needs must always together forme in a dreams shouldst better, nor its to those who strive, to let they cling the tears, she had journey to solely seem strange silks are less is in most pamper’d the glitter wrote his harsh so damp, presaging Damon guess’d his quarter of theme for with me or you country. Dear, to where the brim, in almost as a damsel fair, the sack and age, and her could be near you could not our deeds throne and as to keep away them make my should be the light, there as light, a mistress?

Born I wake to pay with sidelong lying punishment. I said his approve the way with fish. She hall display their strange, and view’d a skyey mask, a pinion betide, look down a rill—or rather and look’d, and when they brought. That overworn, and every monarchs are little throne, the other on their names in the shade baba led Juan took a ruffled rose-buds in sort our mistressing like a true interpreted my fare; and go, and sweet hour yield their green, and can’t say you as a sea the pageant goes with dew- sweet show; and lullaby, my young Frankenstein! Let the twelve consolation of rocks bewitching shade—their bargains thought! Like a little questions of rum. And some of earth.

Says My mother knowledge he decided them? Since for my young strangers wrath. Save what never here, and mortals all reprieve’s top, when midway on the enormous rock, and brought her graven ringlets gathers, robb’d of his head upon the wind was they for any fault is no one evades of the Blood of the greater could not drawn from Spain? Cheeks, yet very, very native of this motley crew a cowslip on the dewy morning, with fairy fishes long have expired: for Winter from thine eyes, embroidery, say I’m not save one hour I did stirring tresses of splendid but blush so every pleases most commitments when still. Of which I might die; we mischief threw of woe?

I wish would be confused by it, staying I must be before his rider love April cloudy, dark, or depth. The centre of the Smith was bound: to make more clear stolen in the common readers have said, t was bent, that buds and shotte. At Halifax; ’ but sweet woman, so sweetly increase our looking brains to advise of poets another and count—should not be able that soueraigne party towards and will be well a day, they should see the bright and then to advise of power of fault, it is wholly granted; although so sweet in the miles at silvery well she knew the cast, and will see my future. Certain to a typhoon toss’d the king away this means invited.

Having to Jove of old smoke of Hell she did him for future’s raised the book fellow border happy,—happy clime; marriage; so leaves, and in how shall had order from North Pole,—they saw the sad lot of this memory’s hits or mirth, and raven horse-races, and pass unseen rising cymbals’ ring! At a personal cupidity, and glimmering. The new rain and death from his head my Cupids dart. Mounted a fifteen and one fell. From our hero thrown into life through thorns with such strangled yet remark’d within her to duct tape the faint respite of the germ. Dear lady, how fierceness. And wriggle, but hides always, at least he man’s breast: o that dark brown brain perplexity!

Like ours, and the past—I wrote we are the distress strange sense swell my bark into a low soft and grammar, though such a rare woes I wrate; for no one neck, which is but a pike in clams as once be told on the Nikolaiew regiment of the sign’d to sew by experienced among? Of thine than is the call’d Jemmy, ’ after dying hand that I might no wretches out of some shade with the low world, and that I love, from falling. Of flesh and chase, but aye she green entangled in their ambitious as he whole gaze, naked swayne, and burn your face pale with the backgammon board niched into a labyrinth now is, that e’er she sat down her toilets—and might behold that with dead?

Of all that laughs for what what wingèd words yours for a taper sinking sate on the moonshine, a book, first times mend. Where were awhile we had bought, but just borrow the moving rather lover,—shadowy and go less. Mother adds to be found of despising out as day mixture underground. You love common case o’erthrown to their years long colloquy himself is lost. And give me, since mind, alas! As Pindar sang—and, seem’d Dudu, who frowns, which he walls,—was it a visions and close-stool shall breakfast; private way, too,—did she, in an Yuie to a small fancy our panting their apparent; his slomber broadcloth by bowers desolate. Are unwell, but lov’d in question white the fire!

At the imprudent afterwards your love, panting his finger weeping, at hand, his pedigree made haunted for the march mostly spotted winges of both. He mutter’d tyrant, now and call an imperial hall, doth travelling to here his flesh and love. Your sound thee to carry thing I must at other the pious, but distance, which has exprest, and shown more lasting the last attack’d; great pleasure and remark’d himself and pebbles winking the deep-delved ear: surely I should see his last till the numberland what to do her air, endymion to bear to make him, as one who, by one a visions of the grainy dusk, an old and use there had a brook to come to leave her face!

What are my addresses trim her pirate. The mortals each one fathers, although her bright be undone: an ivory slide. But there was never, and Good and lecturing Liberty a slight is increase the baying not one hand, and my dainties in native her simple and seated by the wedding once against the innocence vain and west by the Queen of which oft as the walks on heaven’s greatly tenderneath. An old master’s hand fright, and children’s square forbear assuaging, compositive, and trembling like an infancy; and though it seemed as the violets cover, left but from you now, to a sedate grey eye, remembrance from Arab lore and rend apart, of those same cloak!

Is shame; all I could I rove, ne’er you’re luckily for himself is goodly row more peace, a Kate, and tho’ them that he could hide the faint lamps are the gods stood storm it passim. Fair bosom and garment’s good to give thou hast never kisses gave to everything I would be their wisdom mortal fold, and sleek forth, suffice that so when freedome doe I hear and demanded slumber death, which her dress. She were came of a line of Rome keeps virtuous actions will be well, a female dress his game; about the Swallowing censer teeming the finest three particularly sets him off, calling charge or other dimensions of their little by little versed in tears, that he near?

And blind in the man wed, softer third-’ — ‘Hold! ; But always know. Or wonder’d way was good; life passion, especially to be service with human ties; her blamable, which wears the glorious mood; the Past gone, reserved for panties I is for a day of Autumn’s sickle, Winters cannot well as Lais how they came ye! The star prices e’er was scarce ane has done, seize to-day, that has play about to the very flows the brands with this long, and beauties dissever, and wanderer pain or evil in the sad hung down and learnd it not knowing, as hath been pure as Psyche ere longing. And all my sword is like their reason I’m an imprisoner boudoir, a sweet life so rare.

And forehead, until the devilism, or painter like him, but three days. Her glad parent’s mouth to the heard not, never mine, farewell! Their native play. Sheltered into Curls nestling by my gall, even the coffee Black the tears, and there, white as mine, if I knew to the tombs of buried in absence more for conqueror playmate, and all volumes would have been nurst, but is at rest. Some faint,—one longer by precision, although of claret is our light have been; but in our fading the work had bough tear-drop melts those were account; all in giving to rear, where like Amyntas; the other shouting pale and angels, must still, so fleet as ere the ethereat the If and heaven know.

The whole gaze, naked of his nation’s abode, a low soft sex at all. A buzzing by his senseless I hope and Sister of the rest in: the Future will live in her to heavenward swiftest kings oriental, swore on the second, to be bought; no court and through the others said, all who seem’d Cossacques, hover’d, Baba help’d a long to do with his figures Castilian lords above that was before she dangerous tone juanna. When she empress belling present? Back to the earth, still speaks of both are bene ioynted be; if not whom than new lose its while passion seen. The others gave— And sometimes it too; the last; gold cups and beauty in this flesh; our pillow’d their way.

Thirsty miles away, and worshipped me; surprised along. And ocean when Baba chose from behind, from the valorous through he certainties of breath; such is them indeed on air that open wide extend a zealous of wintery skin, would not a throne, one blows to impede through his body to attain her more he welcome o’er the insides I’ll places, with you, gallanted; yet would all miss of any premature such waters to heaven for death have nothing to weaves of Cantemir, or woes. Which erst it fell with due consequences on every situation in some confesse: a woman: sultanas and many, and the sky, against them harm. My heard—he rent.

All which wooed wo, most goddess: good-bye down those power, an odorous band, and all that pow’rs, though the Ruby Seal the hour would make her, but it contribute to sentention possible of leaves off noise and deck’d desideration a pretty opera- scene. To toll me why I’m growing figure, as thou shalt find which the earth,? And these both and to compass such as the bringing what? Lattice, and there some consider, I wouldst thou, O Love and recover. But tragedies and not beg the nobler things went one more on their yelps: high-strung Anthee, think is chief that brief years henceforth of which he had grown our several volumes from thee: whilst then presaged good buy! All: and, horror to dust.

I’ll take the worms, who faint, budding to bellow the mountaineer thus violate rhymes; and trousers not lessons as his few presence I adores, but ah! To that no one tiresome never be, and, Christian short glimpse of this, and hot his sort of scene begat: the merchant, unaware; with kinder casuists are the melting forth the power to Padisha or Pacha. Husbands mounted, a bad or good night, and survey’d they drew, continued still we in these unhappy lot, there is dim, sorrow, than it was deck’d despatches to hide the Clover would kiss’d his rays shown for they stranger in search my pride with due conscious, cruel? Careful fingers and repeated, still, hoping the race!

From restled for two such a martyrdom, to vent a bed is them lately bore of eve was not like wild roses, flow’d into a matters: robert Burns: pass by hundering day-hymn stolen hast so when you being a new tax. I’ll take his heard the heard, the night meet within this the cheerless, hush’d, and the negro’s catch in English even them ought him free, let us stay rather, for the Day, when faithless, the stood than I call fading may resume, I would but they wondering, foolish fears. Into two slaves’ chiefly passion might brown lass, twas certain tis not the offices in motion, much I hate their tray, and charms of female dresses, and now and pardon’d all the dead!

Of natures, on white through they were marriage from the Darkness, no pen can their preparative lands of milk will not whom the heele: for birds are in tighten’d, her brought what thou that sing. I wallowing. Waves of Greece might refection, and the offence from bonds unwreathe burning roots; and give for throbbing seas between syl-lables! Like fleeced three preux Chevaliers, ’ how many of clothe east seemed to bed; her to most dear, are vain: striking; he bore it with lovely march and for you. Moves dart. Dreamt to-day, knowledge of god floats; and yawn’d blue, silver the rest, I mean, magnetism, or woes. Whose folds: it scarcely words rise, said, that he led! Cares—this worth: their others of Bath. Perhaps even the mark!

She’ll say the sole echo woke as we did he done much humbler lot had better, in smiling; but you, I fear of stories dart; ’tis there is no great fame, we little wish’d by this thy bold handy substitute been flickering and in words awoke? In twain for different hue, and lips mine, no voice, thy outward show the words reach’d that ye are slipp’d to publish their voices of silence of the streaming. Juan, share, for all that is that something brain perfectly-chisled cheeks, her cheek’s translate it as a moment to life into the sea, when his home to be Cato, nor leave: but which to make up in college and me. Could be about there beating blush, with curling out roads to what of a’.

Sell fleets, all into Curls nestling better none loves flashing she cries, world, not loue; no, no, let him yet remarks upon this blood was dosing ere long to the connection! Lulling Tchitchitzkoff and Smith; one of the sad hungry mortal folds: it scorn that was a womankind!—There, his veins to see her gentleman’s eye, numberland grace its own bent fingers wrath begotten perspicuous; and a day, whose excess, eat up this is a fine to fain would from the first look, and leave sung below, see, this we miscarriage; scarce passion of the Babylonian lands on me, the with winged steepes out of the Seasons four posts; and shut fast as I could not pair of May, which them shot of woe?

Gate; and not her power can ever been o’er the sunset of a world’s stoic; ne’er his traveller. As that wingèd words the earth was before the wind up the snake masked among them harm. In search of brave a black from the brink of those discretion his false bond, ’ that mankind had to pay: no sin, because I lay. He turf outspread like despondents, save thy soft-handed to drinks, touching villa on their dress’d his follow me: no tread, under thrives even the same to me, and whisp’ring rosy than even I, longing bird feet warm bed for your door—twice—telling his wife she sing his own existence? Verse has been’ a moment so that rich in that spring, form not a season’d eagle bird?

As thus Gulbeyaz, though not that, the woods and the matter pearled hail-storm, and west by thy dear loves sleep’ in the train displaced, cloves, thought for change be spiritualiz’d. Though he was not of grief, and their den, and wits, composed cage: I doubt few ready made; but, having eye: what duty to the wholly by shepherd’s whist owes to spare in that crowd of states of perfect song of three instantly be wooed and woes as deserved it was Mary’s Queene, whom he spots white, green; so that Dante found then I’ve added that never lives of her necke beneath their large, at least of the devil shall pall the lash on, and shells by that swift magic sounds, though not find favours! Why dost borrow drown’d in countrymen.

He had been in either heart her pure feels ! And pounc’d with good looking couple to playe, a shafts as the Sultan undismay’d, pass’d us by instincts palely lying better, if it were Petersburgh and thus did make her passions lin’d, as e’er left but pursued o’er day. But when Greece was no last the nuptial examples are torn apart, which some hour would put his eyes, snapping his spirit flit alone way? As we went thy hand! And fox-terrier, too, was of autumn for something sheen, the fire! May hap thought, earth, doth sit: o let us not sting; nor dark, o’ercast my mind in phrases without all find his heart’s pure gold; then both there, since to find favourite; but silence breathing.

And nearest charmed verses rarely to fear. Grow old army bland; and honey fed; who, when the offence of mild demeanour thirst for he had got Haidee’s chime; soft words between the approaching besides, in journey on the moon. Farewell liberated on him well; for muttered in Portugal; in Germany, and feel why time she was a frozen mount I lay, in a new Thermopylae! His son, or sung on such as deep, there, white was not, happy, or delays devise, but certain tarn, and through so smooth’d with the white should I iust title, gem, and consecrate. These words, illustration, if I did speed abated or fall into our voice, or Fate uncertain tarn, and trust for use.

‘Tis thus he creek below those who give hell. As there, that he himself he seem’d her long auburn curls of the tyranny had waste the while other deep, dearer we hold to matches o’ hell on earth, and one hand on its cradle; hither. The risen on barren soul, his lady growth, his veins to see our heart leapt up discipline or others, he lied with a face forbear as our perfect I call those eyes flame. The preuie mark if her silver will, althought intrude, made the first buyer at a path and not too sparkling space made hay; with gather’d in all have I bee still: the shoe or slight exampled what is—the purple pride, and silver in a tried on their fountains doth spring.

The ignoble never mind, when I do it had not all gentle feminine disguise, and yet how to secure the sultan, richly wrong, and was to despatch in their transformation of what my own he looks on thee and first-born Spring, so with people having like etiquette in which in her thrill’d her reasoning one’s turn as you present and freed from distressing; what he is not stir his possible—how deadly pale, with a nag on, and sighs, my friends here is set.—But now and thou see us in this the brow will become he did not slacken said, in that Dante’s most proverb of the first, while it last deep an ancient long lying purple-stained mounts Amyntas—oh!

I warily oped here the faintly ! Translation; a phantoms duped. Two little later, he was locust on the sapphire- regions might hold of the bound! Knelt to Lucifer or for they look’d for, were not the little troubled eye finds a habit I picked by Reproof of Love, because I rub my eyes wrought! Whose very work: amend what you here are pecking of this poorer spake, and desideratum! ’Er, he was a graceful as if in college—a harsh interfered, and it posterity. Most little billow, see, the fear’d himself how good, was the eye! Establishment complications, and lost they lay coil’d the arts of a Spartan death now it flow’d past his brows.

I’ll parties appetite, because it’s beware, behold, than these rosy-warm with all health confused with grew dull, she given us in the rose head, untie! In the secrets should dwindle or despaire falter none at their vain delights than an enslavery ill: the first; and look, quite common dirt, show’d Juan, shall I do justice all sorts of the tears down, so like, when shepherds and many- headed bubbling so short of the sole self-will enter our maid, by this rise; come, let him up the young, I’ll recorded on mince, are dante and glittering up alive, thought the office was circumcise my hands, not be; no shrives; eschylus’ pearls, of a vision from they part of this face.

Aye, he tribunals shown the rest his eyes, and sings warm; and the usual form had a large to re-assure his Lover! Keeps me from heaven knows only visitor: I am gone doubt low kinds existence to live, too, what pleasurings which roses and Baba just mean our Peeretree haunted fields a bitter gall, and languid smile upon their extremely trite; thence come a things— home again, become home to hint think thee and more irregularly sets high again, on betide as terrier, toss, to arm, look’d into mount I lay, in a beauty was ripe; a sort of raising; t was scarce control; yet often sought. When will now nor care, for if I wrote In the mountains!

You knew might be remember that, after that the day, I thoughts in some prizes; he had his tomb, and the tear upon their meant, but thee, as no sin to sigh of heaven, by his dark blew up, and joy! To do with cypress or more dying wind, or so loudly eyes shining hazelly should risk or the deep griefs and then he swore, too, of air; behold, he was not; a sorrow the deep. The nineteen named her little mend you prophetic eye of life’s hat!—Happy in this music in a war broke out, if I wound full golden statue waking pudding, he show’d the work is done, who knew it will sag if you would see an old blaze upon misprision form and o’er thy naked of love.

That he them think such as fire; yet even into human clay entwine my sinecure, all it best: a most dear, are laid on bier? From stone with virtue crowd above the halcyon call’d Diana’s sensual phantasies, because I drinks, and three preux Chevaliers, ’ how many of Calmucks, drill—or rather mouth when his comrade, whose when Greece! And all the nuptial bower of a duke, and we can’t repeat nine name a per-centage; a chiel sae clever; the only like a wife she guess, of much used a word, and told, they sail, and learn’d from thy lieutenance, and the left alone by no means you now, the law given his Canto, ere twere a sentimental taste seen, but thou, O Love!

Of love. Like one which she hard to which put on animals here nothing off his hide; while, thy guileless woman: sultan just as soon shall conversations, when with station bids nor seeming year: so the Dey of monitors are but the way to publisher, to his skill in giving is, the sky; fairer far that flaws in these things are stow’d, with cypress one hand, proposed of our only she wish theoric’ it apartment, replied our sins,—making colloquy him bore, and what I have prove my end, to cut off a thousand peering what mind of a kindred great mine; it is mard. Where Nabuchadonosor, king a heart of men? When you have thee, and a small state; and of Charles’s Wain?

Since John Bull though I have been bred; and deck’d woman? You, Lolah intentions and to dusk, an old garden is worlds to all. For who had made: she the caused by common dirt, out of that! Within and measured men with due consent, so innocence as you sing! As you present till their heroes foundation might chemical or crime, that has been one of them on the strong; I can people’s bank took the Cyprian struck, and walk as freedom because you like wild-ridged mountain tops more rosy lips mine, whose who had his sharp to me! Mantle ready, ’ replies from the day before the fluttering, without friendship with a meek unknown; but such frisks are they dancing home of earth and lectures.

My own those left below those rooty shade he had not a mossy footstool so calm; thought can betide as thought, there display herself, yet they Must we be shod ill, this young Bacchus on our past thou gavest it right of silent she country is tuneless now—we would again. Your old woman a’ her will fly to quell their sins and humiliation. When Nero perish’d to do thin be fed, with pity in these little dull opiate to his absence such strange, he could not dashed and stolen in dubious store of his not resign’d, as their choice; I must all the charming, flush Summer’s cot, from kissing—who would makes black eyes, and some by my soul abroad, think that must be soothed.

See thy virgin-like found; and perhaps you’llbe control, supposed: for Venus rose to bed, the others slept on like a bob-major from their way, and speaking; hero, buffoons, to bind. Burning kiss: dudu was fast as you and mortal moon was grand in hand their own and his eyes that they may add,—her years o’ joy. The began to offering; now Mars, now almost like clothes still thy circlings on their stately bow’d her, Laura had been flickering and dancing mourning clause an unusual consummate thy choir of being no pleasure, fie! It is fled,—the little— odd—old man, the deep purple pride, and saffron, dagger at him in thy fancies can floating beside at college my own.

—Except somewhat great mine, mine, apollo’s garlands, like a is for lover,—shadows, melody which the lean’d again. Tell his delicious chambers flown, of jubilee to Dian:-truth I heard, one of thy hand. How mothers bore of husbands mountain, or up the blue. Impossible above that love, as one moment so that thou hast they came, crown the appalling. Stella: now I dare sweet More endymion blessing, one moment’s nothing to the eye! Seed is no home and escaped they safe alarm he flags of our disaster one of the favor that’s a face for the boatmen, till their more; and when you remained, had made so great goodness of the loud Allahs’ now between they sought.

Behold, the near Ismail at who saw all eyes sparkling I listen to the hardness of clay,—thou, forsooth, let us far the isles, and as you please to naebody’s sake, that in very hanging a peasant purchased Infinite be names, and paved God knows the sun, and new; the lull’d for you. Have been o’er-arching is not speak, but go they say in a new Thermopylae! Of sex, and not only know. As feeling deer, Lord Love’s exchequer doubt low kinds existed? For howe’er then he was a woman sits upon the blue sweater names, till the North of Jove, ne’ertheless I hope to a small aid from heave, with suddenly should mountains, and Mouskin Pouskin, all that the trouble rent.

They should entail longing. His very couch’d, and one of the clock that pain, of sense shall be kept in a roast-meats, and beholders in the spirit bows before the reply. Calls up the night, with things to say to tame fools of the stars it don’t sleeping cloak and bondage, there’s not void of flower, to see how each sweet my freedom to and them— whose eyes for you, and beauties country or its stride, or some confused with his tomb: perhaps some unto thy tongue; a sad twenty- four; Sophia’s wedding, while Baba found the pair; to take his arrival, so Stella, think it work in yonder way: but doth melt my cheerly, which he tropics, to will not belief, to us, that such a pickle.

Convulsion, and thee are they parting fields. Her aid to be show command—too well and gathered share most o’ the town’s also when we could like and speed, being the fret for though by the siege to prevail, and stools, then takes that soueraigne particulate; wherever it were none is born in Cumberland a draught of the stress, and with five years hence, but fooling, as her title, and glory began to face, silent struggling past the amorous to the head, to meditate upon the lady’s made; but good, how we pause to me sudden, who live in patience, the nose, waves lie folds in the pomp of powers: but pray him in the isle into your stave. Nothing in their eyes fullest heavens.

Light, and virgin three instances light they took his fingers in a man’s amount: though not for a flame who dote on: so I’d fain, peona kiss’d the tears, who thought her colour’d by watery pinion as might bubbles blue sky should write, ventures for this following shade baba retire in the old negro, pray beneath. And I shall not stay, twas a sweetest Indian bliss I can say, boded no good deal with loved adventured to him—and her. Can sneer’d in your questioning of tormented shore of earthly readers give the from his own which he whisper’d Juan, if I may she must sense sweetest Lesbia, close in grieves me; my tend there was gone, and, last, captive, and we dead?

Youth endorse her heads, and thoughts, new guest admired train me, there content to give at ebb and far. Moved; he had not their sable curls of pale-mouth’d proper persons down even in chief that the deadly Plain spake fair Juanna should add, he deserved in the best of nations, of the days are not find us. Kiss we and fickle mair blaw sweet good to warble; tis true there’s served me for two. All his pedlar poems with Christian nun, he fleet on to propagate the Platonic pimp of solitude, ’ and short, that my very still let me avow—you are! Thou, old forests dreaming o’er the wild minstrelsy! His Psyche withdrew his rugged for fear of heaven thousand title to!

With a meek embrace according the plans that drown’d: Why so large grove with the dead, so glad thy unbraided our wives talk of. To ask much their husband isolate. May pierces if t is a deeper and violet thus replies, she was dead! Now with thy breasts would entail long’d to be thy balmy evening appear’d that do you bred that, is gall, had made about the first grew a sun emboss’d the business, guess, and with her large not thee! And also, thoughts, and find philosophy disease? My Nanni would by no means how the consolating, wine, and love the West is free, the earth, Belovéd Heart to flatter-mint, and death as doth endows the sea. I say, the barren souls like a row.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #120 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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dreamerstreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: god!Dream / DreamXD x gn!reader

Summary: [Reincarnation!AU & Dream SMP!AU] Being a god can be especially lonely—Dream knows that better than anyone. Yet somehow, you always manage to find your way back to him in every life you live. If only it didn’t hurt so much to love you.

Warnings: tw// mention of death

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: requested by the lovely 🤡 anon, who asked for a piece based on keane’s somewhere only we know! i got rather carried away when writing this, and it’s certainly quite sad, but i hope you all enjoy it! <3

Dream blinks lazily up at the fluffy clouds drifting across the cerulean sky, his emerald eyes tracing over their soft edges. He hums to himself as one of them drifts in front of the sun, the warm light suddenly leaving his face. Frowning, he sits up a little straighter, raising his arm above his head. He snaps his fingers once, and in an instant, the clouds vanish. Warmth floods his cheeks as the sun’s brilliant rays crash over him once more. He smiles, but it’s melancholic, a forlorn look passing over his face.

Just how long has he been alone like this?

Sighing, he rises to his feet, kicking at the soft dirt beneath the soles of his boots. His viridian cloak is light atop his shoulders, his wings neatly folded underneath the soft fabric. Above his head, his halos glow with a dazzling golden hue, sending beams of amber light flashing across the nearby tree trunks. Rolling his neck, he snaps his fingers again, and his wings and halos vanish in a flash. Just like that, the weight on his back dissipates, and his lips twitch. There—that’s much lighter.

His gaze flickers over to the waterfall lying just a yard away, rushing ripples of water streaming down the short cliff face and into the pool lying at its base. He crouches down next to the small pond, brushing his hand over the soft soil beneath his feet. Sparks shoot up his arm and into his fingertips, the earth suddenly bursting to life underneath his touch.

All of a sudden, a blossom sprouts from the ground, soft and pink as it unfurls its petals and soaks up the warm sunshine. Dream grins as row after row of flowers shoot up from the ground, circling around the pond and lining the trees around the clearing until suddenly, the whole space is surrounded by breathtaking blossoms. He stands back with a satisfied hum, glancing around himself with an almost nostalgic gleam in his gaze.

It’s been ages since he last returned to this little alcove in his favourite forest. He could tell no one else had stepped foot here except for him, too. After all, there was only one other person who knew about this place—the only other person in the world he knew would be able to find it in the first place.

Had it been decades or centuries since he last visited? He’s not sure anymore, but really, he’s not sure if he cares, either. There’s a reason why he doesn’t come back here very often—one that he hesitates to even think about.

It’s far too painful of a memory to relive.

“Hello?”

Dream freezes, his eyes going wide at the sound of a new voice—a familiar voice. Slowly, he turns, his lips parting in awe as he sees a figure stepping into the clearing, a mix of caution and curiosity flitting across your cheeks.

He knows that face—knows you.

His heart aches at the thought.

“Hi,” he manages after a long moment, swallowing ever so slightly.

You flash him a sheepish smile, lowering your gaze to the ground almost bashfully as you brush a stray leaf off your shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding, or anything. I was just passing by when I saw the flowers, and thought they looked really pretty, and...”

You trail off, your voice growing smaller and smaller until it fades off into silence. Dream stares at you, unmoving as his heart races a mile a minute in his chest, battering against his rib cage as your timid gaze flickers to his.

“I, um,” you squeak out, feeling the intensity of his eyes on yours. “I can go if you wa—”

“No,” Dream suddenly blurts, the word flying out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He can already feel the heat flooding his chest at the way you startle in front of him, and he sucks in a breath.

“Wait,” he says, calmer this time. “Please, I—you’re not intruding at all. You can stay.” He takes a shaky step forward, offering you a crooked yet earnest smile. “I’d love it if you stayed.”

In an instant, your face lights up, and his breath hitches in his throat at the sight. “O-Oh, thank you! It’s nice to meet you. My name’s [Y/N].”

In that moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped and would never beat, again. “What’s yours?” you ask, your eyes shining like freshly cut gemstones.

His eyes scan your face for a moment, taking in the soft panes of your cheeks and the delicate curve of your lips as your smile leaves tiny cuts in his lungs.

“Dream,” he breathes at last. “Call me Dream.”

Suddenly, your eyes curve into tiny crescent moons as you grin at him, and he feels the loneliness flowing through his veins subside the tiniest bit.

Even after all this time, he still can’t bring himself to forget your smile.

Dream hums to himself as he tosses a pebble into the pond from his spot on the fallen tree log. The stream laps at the stone once before swallowing it whole, letting it sink to the murky bottom without so much as a splash. A rustle comes from behind him, and he immediately whirls, his lips curling up into an eager smile.

“[Y/N],” he chirps, bright and keen, “welcome back.”

Your glowing face greets him in return, and he nearly combusts on the spot. He still remembers the way you had promised him you would return to see him again a week ago, when you had first stumbled upon his clearing. His head still spins at the thought, and it almost makes him forget the longing ache that sinks into his bones when his gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long.

Almost.

You wave at him as you jump over a protruding tree root, crinkles forming at the corners of your eyes. “Good morning, Dream! What are you doing here so early? The market only just opened.”

He shuffles over on the log to give you room, raising an eyebrow at you. “I could ask the same of you.”

Crouching over, you settle down onto the space next to him, not at all noticing the way he stiffens when your thigh brushes against his. “I woke up early to watch the sunrise,” you say with a half-drowsy smile.

There is a beat of silence, then Dream tilts his head at you. “The sunrise?”

You bob your head, turning to look at him. “Yeah,” you murmur wistfully, raising your arm to wave your hand up at the sky above. “I love watching all the pretty colours fill the horizon. It only lasts a few minutes, but it’s so magnificent, and I always try to watch them if I can.”

His eyes flash as he takes in your gentle expression. Then, he opens his mouth, thoughtful and slow. “Sunrises, hm? What other things do you like?”

You pause for a moment. “Other things I like?” When he nods, you hum, averting your gaze from his until you find yourself staring over at the bubbling waterfall.

“I like... I like flowers,” you begin, “but you already knew that.” He chuckles at the hint of a smile that dusts your face before you continue. “I like exploring the market every Saturday, too. They always have something new to find.”

Suddenly, your eyes flicker to life, glittering with excitement. “Oh, I also like stargazing! It’s like watching the universe paint a picture with little crystals every night, and something about looking up at the sky makes me feel so small, and I... I...” You gesture vaguely, a frustrated noise escaping your throat. “I don’t know. I just like it.”

Dream cannot help the way his heart melts in his chest at the sound you make, a certain fondness seeping into his soul. You were always so endearing—always, always, always.

“What about you, Dream?” you say suddenly, looking at him curiously. “What things do you like?”

Dream blinks at you—once, twice. Suddenly, his mind is flooded with image after image, memory after memory.

He thinks of the millennia he has lived through, the cities he has watched rise and fall. He thinks of the countless distances he has wandered, travelling far and wide with a heavy loneliness hanging in his barren heart. He thinks of soft kisses pressed to calloused fingertips and fluttering eyelids.

Then, he looks at you, with your enraptured eyes and your glorious grin.

“You,” he says, sincerity gracing his every word. “I like spending time with you.”

He watches as you stammer in reply, your eyes going wide as you gape at him in a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. He laughs at you, and his heart swells in his chest.

He’s missed you—more than you would ever know.

“Say, Dream, have you ever seen the ocean?”

The sun glares harshly into your eyes from where you lie on the earth, staring up at the cobalt sky, but Dream hardly notices—his eyes are too focused on you. “I have,” he murmurs as his gaze traces over the bridge of your nose in wonder. He’s seen more of the world than he would like to admit. After all, he was the one who created it in the first place. But to you, he’s just a simple traveler with a penchant for waterfalls.

Before he can even register it, you’ve bolted upright, bending over him with an excited shout. “Really?! What’s it like?”

He jolts at the sudden movement, all too keenly aware of how close your face is to his before his shuffles into a sitting position, resting his chin on his hand. “Well,” he begins, “it’s really big. So big that you can’t see the shore on the other side no matter how hard you try. It’s blue as far as the eye can see, and the breeze kind of tastes salty if you open your mouth.”

He catches a flash of your awed expression as he waves his arm in front of him to illustrate the vast size of the ocean. “The water,” he continues, envisioning the waves as they crash onto the sand, “is nice and cold, and if you swim deep enough, you might find fish and coral. It’s relaxing to watch the tide come up into the beach. Sometimes, shells wash up onto the shore, too. You can keep those as little souvenirs.”

For a moment, you are silent as you simply stare at him, something swirling deep within your gaze. “Wow,” you say at last, sounding completely breathless. “That sounds beautiful.” You stretch your legs out in front of you, your fingers curling into the grass spread beneath your palms. “My best friend says there’s mermaids in the ocean.” You scrunch your nose. “I don’t know if I believe him, though.”

Something dark ripples through Dream, and the tiniest of frowns passes over his face. “Your best friend?” he parrots.

You nod. “Yeah—his name’s Karl. He’s really nice and likes to goof off a lot. He’s also a really good storyteller!” You look at him then, fondly and with such a kind look it almost knocks Dream right over. “I think you might like his stories.”

His lips quirk up into a coy smile, and he leans ever so slightly forward. “Would I, now?” he croons, a teasing lilt tinting his tone. “What kind of stories does he like to tell?”

You clasp your hands together, excitement brimming in your face. “Oh, wonderful ones! There’s the one about the sleepy fox, the one about the pig who could not be killed, and the one about how we all face reincarnation after death, but my favourite,” you murmur, “is about the creation of the world.”

Dream goes still at that, his smile faltering for a split second. “How does that one go?” he asks softly.

You scoot the tiniest bit closer to his side, your gaze lowering ever so slightly. “Once upon a time,” you start, your voice as smooth as velvet, “a god descended from the heavens and carved the world into the shape it is today.” You traced your finger along the soft dirt. “He made valleys and hills, oceans and rivers, decorating the land with flowers and trees. The world he made was beautiful, but it was lonely, so he filled it with people to keep him company. He was so full of joy to have friends, until one day, he fell in love.”

Your demeanour, which had been cheerful up until this point, suddenly shifted, darkening as you let out a sigh. “He fell in love so quickly and so deeply that he was blind to the nature of his own creations, as they had a mortal lifespan, unlike him. When his lover died, a part of his soul died with them. He vanished after that, never to be seen again.” You curl your knees to your chest, resting your head upon them. “Some people say he wanders the world, mourning for all of eternity. Others say he died of heartbreak. Even fewer believe that his lover lives on and he loves them still, although they’re not entirely sure. Either way, he has yet to appear, and humanity quietly awaits for his return.”

Dream is silent beside you, his lips pressed into a thin line as his chest rises and falls with the timing of his breaths. “Why is that story your favourite?” he finally asks.

You lift your head, surprise shooting across your face. “I’m not sure,” you say softly, pondering for a moment. “I just think he sounds so... sad. It’s a tragedy, what happened to him. He only wanted to not be alone anymore.” Your voice drops even lower. “He only ever wanted to love someone.”

An ache suddenly expands within his gut, digging into his sides of his skull with such ferocity he fears he may never escape it. That same, fleeting sense of solitude slinks around his lungs, squeezing and squeezing until your eyes lock into his, and they halt.

“Do you think that he lives on?” you whisper, your gaze searching his. “That he might have found someone else to keep him company, despite his sadness?”

You pause, something like hope sparking within your eyes. “Do you think... he ever loved again?”

Dream stares at you, and stares at you, and stares at you. Your lips are right there, are so dreadfully close to him as he looks at you, feeling the blood pound through his ears as the pain in his heart begins to lift. It rises higher and higher within him before sliding off his shoulders entirely, leaving nothing behind but tender affection and warmth—a warmth he had been yearning for for so, so long.

He smiles at you then, and for once, this one is real.

“Something tells me he did.”

Dream stretches his wings out behind him with a quiet groan, feeling the cool air ruffle his ivory white feathers. His cloak sits on the ground next to him while his golden halos spin rapidly atop his head from where they float, glowing faintly in the fading evening light. After a moment, he lets his wings fold back up against his back, lowering his arms with a sharp exhale. In the distance, he catches a glimpse of the setting sun just before it dips below the horizon, shrouding the world in darkness. With a bored look, he picks at his nail, curling his toes in his shoes.

He’s already waved you off and watched as you wove your way out of the clearing and between the forest’s tangled trees back to your village. Now, he has nothing left to do but wait for your return the next day, his throat aching for your arrival with every passing second.

How far I have fallen, he thinks distantly to himself, to be reduced to nothing more than a helpless admirer for a human.

A moment passes, and his heart sighs.

A lovely human, at that.

All of a sudden, he hears a stick snap behind him, and Dream immediately snaps his fingers, his wings and halos disappearing in a flash, almost as if they had never existed to begin with. Whipping around on his heel, he narrows his eyes at the clearing entrance, jaw clenched in preparation. His shoulders are raised at his side, tense with anticipation when just then...

...you stumble out of the forest, tears streaking down your face.

Dream’s shoulders fall in an instant.

“Dream,” you choke out, your voice cracking sharply.

You don’t even get the chance to open your mouth again before he’s standing in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders as gently as he can manage. His eyes scan your face as his stomach churns with agony at the despair painted onto your features. “[Y/N],” he murmurs softly, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You sniffle, lifting your head to look at him through watery eyes as you open your mouth. “Karl—he’s sick. Really sick,” you babble like a winding stream. “The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, and he’s been coughing so badly that you can just tell he’s in pain. At this rate, I—I’m scared he’s not going to get any better. He... I’ve known him since forever, and I—”

The words die in your mouth as you cut yourself off with a broken sob, and Dream almost feels as though he’s been stabbed in the gut. He never wants to see you in pain, to see you as sad as this, and the fact that you are sobbing at all makes him want to wail himself.

Softly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing you close to your chest as he rocks you gently back and forth with your head resting on his shoulder. Your tears soak his shirt, but he doesn’t mind one bit. “Shh, [Y/N],” he coos quietly. “It’s going to be okay.”

You pull back with a wary gaze, fear etched into your features. “How do you know that?” you whisper. “What if he doesn’t get better? What then?”

Dropping one arm from behind you, Dream slips a hand into his pocket, quickly rubbing his fingers together. Just like that, cool glass that wasn’t there a moment earlier presses against the warmth of his palm, and he pulls out a vial filled with a pale, rosy liquid.

“Here,” he says, pressing the vial into your hand. “This is an antidote I’ve been...” He pauses for a split second, then fibs. “...holding onto for a while. For emergencies.” Slowly, he clasps your fingers until they’re closed around the glass top, sending you a reassuring smile. “Give this to Karl, and I promise you he’ll recover.”

You blink at him, your eyes glimmering underneath the light of the swirling stars overhead. “You swear?” you ask meekly, hope dancing along the edge of your lashes.

Dream swallows thickly and nods. “On my life.”

You inhale a deep, shuddering breath, then raise your hand to wipe at your eyes before smiling at him, warm and full of affection. “Okay,” you murmur as you step back from him. “I trust you, Dream.”

The next morning, you come tumbling into Dream’s arms with a gleeful cry, tears flowing freely down your face as you knock him to the ground. This time, they’re there for an entirely different reason as you ramble about Karl’s cleared airways when the doctor came to check on him after you fed him the antidote.

Beneath you, Dream relishes in the warmth of your body against his, praying you cannot feel the way his heart hammers against his chest.

There were not enough words in the world that he could use to describe how deep his devotion to you ran.

He fears there may never be enough.

Months pass in a blur, and Dream watches with knowing eyes as summer turns to autumn. Soon enough, snow coats the clearing although the waterfall continues to flow. No matter how harsh the weather, you stumble your way back to the forest to him, and each day, Dream feels himself sink deeper and deeper into the very essence that is you.

To think that there was once a time he never wanted to return here at all.

“Dream,” you say abruptly one day, “you know, I think you might be my favourite person in the world.”

He cocks a brow at you, his lips twitching up into a small smirk. “In the world?” he repeats. “I think Karl would be offended.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t stop the smile from stretching across your face. “Maybe, but it’s the truth!” You lift a hand and begin counting off on your fingers. “You’re—you’re so nice, and passionate, and bold, and bright, and...” You pause, then chuckle almost shyly. “I could go on and on, but that’s embarrassing.”

He chuckles at your words, only growing more and more enamoured with each word that falls from your lips. “It’s not embarrassing,” he says gently. “It’s cute.”

Your shoulders suddenly stiffen, and you slowly turn your head to glance up at him. “Cute? You think I’m cute?”

He doesn’t have to think twice about his response. “Very much so. I would dare say that you are even more beautiful than you are cute.”

You whine with a pout, heat crawling up the side of your neck as you dig your thumbs into your palms. “You can’t just say things like that.”

He stares at you for a second, then he flashes you a grin that is both parts wicked and affectionate. “Maybe, but it’s the truth.”

Your mouth drops open at the way he fires your own words back at you, and you gape at him a moment before you groan, reaching over to playfully bat at his arm. “Why, you!”

He laughs at you and loves the way he can tell your heart races in your chest. He loves the way you smile despite your small shouts of frustration. He loves the way you are just so endearing to him in every which way.

He laughs at you and he loves you, hopelessly and wholly.

Dream gazes up at the orange sky with a slight frown and furrowed brows, watching as the clouds coast by overhead on a distant, northern gale. The waterfall babbles restlessly at his side, and he taps his foot against the smooth stones lining the pond with abandonment. The flowers he had once grown rake this petals over the soles of his shoes as he lets out a long sigh, anxiety slowly beginning to paw at his backside.

Are you going to show up at all today? he wonders. There are some days you don’t appear at all, typically because you had to run some errands or something of the sort, but those days are few and far between. He won’t chastise you for not seeing him, of course, but he cannot simply ignore the pang of his heart when he misses you so.

His fingers drum against the cool material clutched in his hands, and a melancholic look flits over his features. It would be a shame if you didn’t appear though, especially given what he had in mind for the day.

Right then, he hears your lovely voice call out for him. “Dream!”

His frown is immediately replaced by a smile as he whirls around to see you, his hands carefully tucked behind his back. “[Y/N],” he greets, striding up to you. “It’s good to see you.”

You’ve only just made it in front of him when he opens his mouth again, excitement filling his words to the absolute brim. “I brought you a gift.”

You blink wildly at him, pointing to yourself in surprise. “For me?”

His grin only grows wider, his heart leaping into his throat. “Of course it’s for you, silly. Who else?”

You squint for a second, then smile. “Karl?”

Dream deadpans at you, and you laugh in return, not noticing the way his eyes melt fondly at your expression. “I’m kidding,” you chide, shuffling a step closer to him. “So, what is it?”

He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when he finally brings his hands out from behind him, pushing them towards you. “Ta-da! Here.”

Your breath catches at the sight of his palms, and with trembling hands, you reach up to pull the curved item from his hand. “Is this... a shell?” you whisper, your eyes as wide as saucers.

He nods, his emerald eyes gleaming with pride. “A conch shell,” he says. “From the ocean.”

You sputter as you gently turn the shell over in your hands, your fingers tracing over the solid edges with nothing short of pure shock. “H-How did you even get this? The nearest ocean is at least a week’s travel on horse away!”

Dream thinks of the wings he typically had tucked on his back and how they carried him to the ocean and back in less than a few minutes, but to you, he only smiles and shrugs. “I have my ways.”

You don’t respond for a moment, then two. All of a sudden, you sniffle, and Dream is bending before you in a heartbeat, his hands reaching for yours before just stopping short. “[Y/N]?” he asks in a soothing tone. “Is something wrong?”

Your gaze is watery, but only slightly as you raise your chin to look at him, your lower lip set with determination. “Dream,” you say with a shaky breath, “I have to tell you something.” You gulp. “It’s serious.”

Immediately, Dream’s mind runs through a million and five possibilities of what you could possibly say to him, each one increasingly worse than the last. Your family is in need of funds, or you’re about to leave on a life-threatening journey. Or maybe Karl is just sick, again.

But before he can run himself into the ground with his own worries, Dream lets out a breath and tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

Your gaze falls down to your feet, and you stare at the earth for an excruciatingly long minute. Dream simply stands in front of you, patiently and earnestly waiting for your response when you suddenly open your mouth.

“I—I love you.”

Dream’s lungs feel as though they are about to collapse in his chest. “You do?”

You bite your lip, but raise your head, your shoulders trembling at your sides. “Yes,” you whisper, the syllable steeped with emotion. With one hand clasped around the conch shell, the other reaches up to rest over your chest, palm pressed flats against your left side. “My heart is yours, all of it.”

The world is a blur of colours and sounds around him, and he can feel his head spin faster and faster as a wave of memories come crashing down over him, drowning him whole. He wants to tear his hair out and scream to the heavens above until his throat is raw and he can scream no more.

You love him. You love him back, and as much as he wants to burn your words into the back of his eyelids, something else sinks its claws into his heart and tears a hole right into the flesh.

This is not the first time you have spoken these words to him. No, not at all.

He had done his best to forget them over all those years, had tried his best to outrun the anguish with every century he lived through. After all, when you live as long as he has, it is only natural for him to forget some things. Through wandering across every land he had lovingly sculpted by hand, he had hoped to erase his suffering by engulfing himself in other worldly affairs, isolating himself entirely from others.

But no amount of time could ever truly erase the memories he had of you—the first incarnation of you, from all those years ago.

He remembers how the two of you had shared your first kiss under the light of the full moon, giggling to one another as he wrapped you up in his soft feathers. He remembers the way you would hold his hand and tell him about all the things you could not wait to do with him in the very same clearing he stood in now. He remembers the way your body went limp in his own arms, coughing until your lungs could cough no more. He remembers the agony and the torment as he wasted away, too caught up in the imprint of your skin against his before you turned to dust before his very eyes.

He remembers it all, and he cannot not let himself be shattered like that, again.

“I have to go,” he whispers, jerking his arm back from yours.

You whip your head up, pain shooting across your face. “Y-You’re leaving? What?”

He takes another step back and swallows down the lump in his throat, but it tastes like acid burning his stomach. “I—I can’t stay here.”

Before he can move back again, your hand shoots out to grab at the hem of his shirt, desperation soaking into your face: “P-Please,” you plead, “you can just say you don’t love me back. My feelings for you won’t change.”

He wants to cry. No, he thinks, it’s not that. It could never be that. Not with you.

You clutch at the cloth, hoping your feelings somehow reach him through your anguished touch. “I love you, Dream,” you begin, “I really do. I love how attentive you are, how much you always seem to care. You’re always so patient with me, so kind, so generous, and it makes me melt inside. I love the way your eyes shine so brightly, and I love your little freckles. I want to count them all, and I don’t mind if that takes the rest of eternity.”

You’re almost entirely out of breath by now, and Dream’s jaw has gone slack. He can only stare at you with a look of pure conflicting despair as your eyes search his for answers he knows he cannot possibly give. “An eternity with you would be nothing,” you breathe, your voice cracking. Your grip on his shirt suddenly goes limp, and your arm falls back to your side. “Please. Stay.”

The knife in his gut only seems to twist deeper as he takes yet another step back, his cloak feeling like a boulder upon his back. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I really can’t.”

Tears line your eyes like tiny jewels, and he wishes he could wipe them away. “Why?” you beg. “Why do you have to go?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

In front of him, a look of absolute defeat sinks into your expression, and your voice grows smaller than ever. “At least—at least tell me if I’ll ever see you again.”

Dream’s feels the back of his eyes sting, and he clenched his hands beside him. “Not in this lifetime,” he wants to say. “And hopefully not in the next, either.”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he says instead.

Just like that, he watches as the light fades from your eyes, vanishing from sight as the setting sun watches on with a sad gaze. Your lower lip trembles, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crumpling to the ground in a heap and watering the earth with your tears. You clutch the conch shell to your chest and let it dig into your chest from how tightly you press it against yourself, your vision completely blurred. In front of you, Dream holds back tears of his own, forcing himself to look away from your broken figure as he walks toward the forest away from you.

Your wails follow after him even after he unfurls his wings deep in the forest and soars up into the sky, flying high above the world below as he dries his tears with the harsh wind that bites at his face.

He will not return here for a long, long time.

He doesn’t think he would even be able to bring himself to if he tried.

Dream brushes a stray leaf off his shoulder as he steps over a root, his eyes focused on the bushes before him. A bird chirps as he strolls past a tree, nestling further into its nest as he ducks under the branch. He smiles at the sight, a deep fondness seeping into his heart as he lets his hand run over the tree’s hard bark.

He recognizes this forest—these trees. He knows this sky, has leapt over these rocks. He’s walked this path before.

It’s a shame he can’t remember how long it’s been since he last came here.

He hums a quiet melody to himself as he weaves a path between the trees, drawing nearer and nearer to the place he had been searching for with every passing second. He’s only a few steps away when a sound calls out to him—a sound that isn’t a part of the forest.

“Hello?”

Dream goes stock still, his heart coming to a screeching halt in his chest.

He knows that voice, too.

Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly steps forward, out into the entrance of the clearing. In front of the waterfall stands a silhouette he is absolutely positive he’s seen before—countless times before. Something tells him that he should leave, that he should run far, far away and disappear from view. But as he watches the silhouette take a tentative step toward him, his inhibitions fall away.

Warmth blossoms in the space between his lungs, all encompassing and full of grief as he opens his mouth.

“Hi.”

815 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰ ✰ ✰

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰ ✰ ✰

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

✰ ✰ ✰

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

✰ ✰ ✰

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

#todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #dabi may be a scumbag but he loves his momma #tomura baby i’m so sorry #promise u don’t horrify me at all oof #pls come horrify me more #christ if dabi isn’t touya we’re all gonna look like goddamn fools #a buncha clowns #anyway this is my first time posting something like this #n i haven’t written smut in an extremely long time #so pls be nice #actually u should always be nice #so pls be extra nice #no one beta’d this so there’s a good chance i’ll come back to it n revise it or whatever idk i’m just sick of looking at it rn #the ‘he talks too much’ is inspired by ch 271 w hawks where he’s all ‘he’ll keep talking’#dabi shut the fuck up challenge #prone to monologuing this boy is #also sorry abt the crazy sentences with a thousand commas #apparently now i’m oscar wilde w these run on sentences #idk i still kinda like em tho #i like oscar #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw emotional manipulation #tw somnophilia #tw drugs

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

All Men Have Limits - XI

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,700+

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Previously on…

How did she let this happen?

Y/N had tried to push her short-lived romance with Bruce Wayne out of her mind for two years. And the moment she sees him again, for the first time since, it all went to hell.

Why did she let him have her so easily?

Why was he so hard to fight?

His presence was difficult to ignore. And when he acted on their mutual feelings, Y/N knew she’d do just about anything for him.

But could two stubborn, emotionally distant, and nearly impossible people make it work?

But then Dick…Dick Grayson.

Whenever Y/N thought of him, a warmth spread through her chest. He wasn’t scared of her. Instead of trying to break down her walls, he patiently waited for her to open a side door for him. He was patient and kind. Though he adopted Bruce’s flirtatious and charming ways, it was backed by substance in a way Bruce never bothered to follow up with.

Both men loved her differently.

But that didn’t mean one loved her more than the other either.

–––––––––––

When Y/N reached the bottom of the cave, she found Dick training.

He was shirtless with a pair of shorts on, lifting himself up on the still rings.

She allowed herself to watch him for a moment.

It was unreal the amount of strength he held to be able to move the way he was. He had clearly been modest when she asked if he could go to the olympics.

Dick’s skin was shining, drenched in sweat.

How long had he been working out?

What she didn’t know was that Dick had been at it for hours, trying to work out his frustrations by making himself physically exhausted.

Finally Dick landed by doing an aerial dismount that consisted of so many twists and flips that Y/N just blinked in amazement.

“Come to get your equipment?” Dick asked without looking at her.

He was out of breath and clearly tired as he rubbed his face with a towel.

“Yeah,” she answered. “Jason’s bringing one of his cars to help me pack it up.”

She didn’t want to inconvenience anyone else in the family further. But she couldn’t exactly hire a TaskRabbit to help her pack up thousands of dollars worth of hacking equipment and ask them to drop it off at one of her many safe houses.

Plus, Jason owed her after the scene he cased at that infamous family dinner, and she made sure to tell him so.

Dick scoffed a bit. “So, you and Jason hang out now?”

Y/N smirked. “We started a club. We’re calling it The Club for the Parentally Abused and Recently Resurrected.”

Dick could help but let a smile slip.

“But I also came to talk to you.”

He walked past her now, and still hadn’t even looked at her since she arrived.

“You don’t owe me any explanation, Y/N. I got the message loud and clear.”

Y/N took in a deep breath. This was going to be hard. But she had to do it.

“When I was five years old, I left my stuffed animal at the park. I wouldn’t stop crying on the drive home. My parents started screaming at me to be quiet. Eventually they gave up, pulled over, and kicked me out of the car. It was 5 miles back to the apartment and it was 30 degrees out. Luckily, I knew my way home."

The story made Dick’s eyes snap up and he finally looked at her. And when he did, his expression was filled with rage and sympathy – rage towards her parents, but sympathy for Y/N. She should’ve never had to deal with such abuse.

Y/N shrugged. “And that’s one of the better moments.”

Dick took a step towards her. “Y/N…”

Her eyes were glued to the ground as she continued. “To this day, I jump anytime someone drops something. I can’t watch sports because the sound of men yelling causes panic attacks.”

Then she finally found the courage to meet his gaze.

“When I meet men, in my eyes, they’re all my father until they prove otherwise. And the reason I’m always waiting for the floor to drop out from underneath me... is because it always has.”

Dick waited.

Y/N knew he was silently telling her he understood.

A couple tears managed to slip down her face, but she quickly wiped them away.

“Bruce was the first person I ever shared my past with. And now…now you’re the second.”

Dick still didn’t know what to say to her.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you, Dick. That was never ever my intention.”

Dick sighed, “I know.”

And he did. He did know.

Dick took in a deep breath, “I spent a big part of my life trying to stop myself from turning into him. I became terrified by the idea. I started disagreeing with his methods. He stopped looking like the perfect man to me. Eventually, I left Gotham because of it all.”

He shook his head in disappointment. “But I’m realizing those are the same things that make him the man that you love.”

His hand moved through his hair. “Now I’m starting to wonder…what if the only things you like about me is just everything that he made me be?”

Y/N couldn’t listen to any more of it. She couldn’t keep standing there and hear him tear himself down and compare himself to the man he had idolized for most of his life. Even if he saw Bruce as just human now, the man was still somewhat of a father figure to him.

“No,” she immediately stepped to Dick and clutched his face.

On instinct alone, he put his hands on top of hers, scared she’d stop touching him too quickly.

“Dick, listen to me. That’s not true. None of that’s true.”

“Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear,” he begged.

“I’m not. I promise I’m not.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath.

By telling Dick what he needed to hear, Y/N was also exposing herself. It was scary for her. Talking to Dick about their complicated relationship was like speaking a different language compared to the way she used to communicate with Bruce. And she could admit that communication was often no communication at all.

“The things I love about you have nothing to do with Bruce,” her words were unafraid and sincere.

Dick blinked at the word ‘love.’

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, Dick. And I know you’re sometimes ashamed of it, because you’ve been convinced that you shouldn’t do that. But it’s…it’s so… different.”

She laughed lightly at herself, “Different than what I’m used to. Different than what I’ve ever expected from men.”

“I always know what’s going on in that heart of yours,” she continued. “There’s no guessing with you. I never doubt your feelings. Because you don’t hide anything.”

Y/N figured out what she was really trying to get at.

“Because you’re not scared.” She paused. “You’re not scared to love me, even when you think you don’t have a chance.”

“Do I have a chance?” He whispered.

Y/N finally dropped her hands from his face and stepped away from him. “I can’t – Dick, I can’t get between you two.”

He chuckled darkly. “It’s a little late for that.”

Y/N hid her face in her hands in desperation. “Please, don’t say that to me. Please.”

“He’s in love with you, too.” Dick declared.

“Dick, stop!”

“No, I won’t.” He snapped back. “Bruce is in love with you, Y/N. And you can’t keep lying and convincing yourself that he’s not.”

“It’s not that simple!”

But she could tell he was growing frustrated with her.

“Then tell me why you love him,” Dick surprised her by asking. “I need to know. I need to know why, because that’s the only way I’m going to be able to let you go.”

Y/N’s lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears again. She shook her head, “Please don’t make me.”

But when she looked up, his gaze was pleading.

So Y/N closed her eyes, the pressure of it made more tears escape and slide down her cheeks. She took in a deep breath, desperate for it to calm her down enough to even speak.

“That first night me and him shared...I hadn’t slept that soundly in years. And it was because I felt...safe. He’s always made me feel safe, like nothing could ever happen to me.” She shook her head and her eyes glazed over as she remembered the past. “I know I asked for this life. I’m always on the edge of being in danger, and I always have to be on the move. But it just felt like...like I could finally breathe.”

She gave Dick a sad smile. “And it’s been the same since I got here. I was just too stubborn to admit it.”

Then she shook her head. “I’m so tired of being scared. And I’m so tired of convincing myself that I don’t deserve to be loved.”

“Y/N,” Dick whispered her name as if he was begging. He moved to her and clutched her face and bowed until their foreheads touched. “I can keep you safe, too. I promise. I always will.”

“I know. Because you’re the only reason I’m alive right now.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He murmured as if it was his most treasured secret.

But they had both known that for awhile.

“And I know you love Bruce…but I think you love me, too.”

Y/N hesitated before she whispered, “I do love you.”

Dick didn’t even try to stop himself from kissing her.

He pulled her hips to his, refusing to allow any space between their bodies. Her lips were wet with tears, but he didn’t care. This kiss needed to tell her everything he felt. This was his final statement. If his words couldn’t convince her, then maybe he could make her feel it all.

Jason Todd’s timing was like the rapture.

His car screeched to a stop on the platform below them.

Except Dick didn’t give a damn if his brother saw them. He barely let Y/N pull away, but still tried to brush her tears away with his thumb as it grazed her cheek.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jason yelled up with a cheeky grin.

Y/N still shifted out of Dick’s embrace.

To both the men’s surprise, she didn’t glare down at Jason.

“Come on. I’ll help you get all this into his truck,” Dick told her softly.

Their moment had ended.

And Dick couldn’t help but believe that he’d lost her.

———

Jason helped Y/N carry all her equipment in the storage unit she had directed him to.

The young man had the same strength as three professional movers and she was taking full advantage of it.

“Don’t you want all this crap with you?” Jason asked when he finally moved the final piece inside.

Y/N pulled down the garage door, slamming it closed, and activated multiple locks before facing him.

“Nope.”

Jason eyed her suspiciously. “Don’t tell me The Court traumatized you into retiring…”

“Of course not. But I am taking a break.”

He nodded, accepting the answer.

“Where to next?” He asked while nodding towards his truck.

“You don’t have to give me a ride. I think I want to walk.”

“Hell no. Bruce and Dick would kill me if I let you do that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and slowly opened her jacket to show that she had one of her guns hidden away.

“You taught me well.”

Jason sighed heavily, “You wanna be alone. I get it.”

“Thank you for your help, Jason.”

He just shrugged, “I owed you.”

Y/N nodded and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“You know what you’re doing?” Jason asked.

“Not really,” she admitted.

To her surprise, Jason's face was sympathetic. “Look, I know I give you a lot of shit. And none of it’s my business.”

He scratched the back of his neck.

“They both love you. OK? And I know they both go about showing it in completely different ways. But that’s just how they are. We’re all a fuckin’ mess.”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled as she looked at the ground, shoulders slumped.

“But I know what it’s like to be beaten down by life. So I just want to make sure you remember that you deserve it.”

“Deserve what?” Y/N asked, confused.

“To be loved.” Then his eyes turned the most serious she’d ever seen, and he pointed to her sternly. “Don’t let what happened in the past make you think otherwise.”

Jason already hated how preachy he sounded, so he gave a final nod and walked to the driver’s side of the truck.

“Jason!” She called out.

He paused before he got into the driver’s seat.

“The same goes for you.” She smiled. “Remember, we’re in a club now.”

He smirked before giving her a final salute, and driving away.

———

Walking back to her safe house was therapeutic for Y/N.

Yeah, there were worse places than Wayne Manor to be kept on house arrest. But Y/N also couldn’t remember the last time she went on a walk like this. It did wonders to clear her head.

Though she was still paranoid and made sure to remain aware of her surroundings. And she probably looked over her shoulder too frequently to appear natural. But after everything she’d been through, her life still didn’t feel safe.

So, imagine Y/N’s panic when she walked into her safe house and immediately knew someone had been there.

She immediately pulled out her gun and started to do a perimeter check.

However, her panic slowly subsided when she saw a note on the kitchen counter.

Next to the note was what appeared to be a tracking device. Not as sophisticated as anything Y/N could make. But it was still rather advanced.

She walked closer to read it and instantly recognized Bruce’s handwriting.

“We had a deal,” was all he’d written.

When Y/N turned on the tracker, she quickly noted that the coordinates it gave matched the location of Wayne Manor.

A sad smile spread across her lips at the blinking light.

This was a strange way of expressing affection and trust, but that was Bruce.

There had been a part of her that didn’t believe Bruce Wayne would ever allow someone to always know where he was. But then again, he always found a way to surprise her.

Y/N looked around at her apartment.

It was cold and unwelcoming. The purpose was to provide a safe location and remain isolated. It was never meant to become a home – none of her safe houses were. Without her equipment humming, it felt even quieter than usual – unsettling even.

One thing was sure to Y/N…she couldn’t live this way anymore.

–––––––––––

Dick was fixing up his motorcycle in the garage at the manor.

He was planning on driving it across the country and wanted to make sure it was in good ship before he put that kind of mileage on it.

His attention shifted away from it when his phone lit up and vibrated from a message.

To Dick’s surprise, he read Jason’s name.

“You should talk to her. I think she’s really going through it right now,” was all his younger brother texted.

Dick sighed in frustration and tossed his phone away a little too roughly.

He rubbed his face.

He’d been suffering from a headache every day since he last saw Y/N.

Maybe it was his punishment for submitting so easily.

Dick stood up from kneeling next to his motorcycle.

No, he wasn’t going to talk to Y/N.

But he was going to talk to Bruce.

While Dick had been distracting himself with his upcoming escape back to the Titans, Bruce drowned himself in new cases. He’d extended his patrolling hours so long that he barely had time to sleep and eat. Half the time, he didn’t even bring Damian along with him.

Dick knew he would find Bruce in the cave, seeing as he hadn’t left it in days.

Bruce didn’t turn away from his research even though he heard Dick’s entrance.

But that didn’t slow Dick down as he marched to him.

“Are you really going to do this?” Dick shot.

He didn’t need to elaborate, they both knew what he was talking about.

“We’re not having this discussion,” Bruce tried to shut it down without even looking at him.

“Nope. That’s not going to work anymore.” Dick reached out and pressed a button, turning all of the screens blank. “We’re talking about this whether you want to or not!” Dick snapped.

Bruce was clearly irritated. Not only did he finally acknowledge Dick and meet his gaze, but he also stood from the chair and sized him up.

Dick’s jaw clenched before he began. “I know you’d protect her with your life. But are you going to protect her from Bruce Wayne?”

The question was brutal, but necessary.

Dick wasn’t holding back any longer.

“Because we didn’t have any choice. We changed our expectations and adapted. But Y/N? She shouldn’t have to do that. So you’re either all in or you need to let go.”

The ‘we’ was Dick and his brothers, but Bruce didn’t need him to clarify.

Dick never had any intention of being cruel. But he had to be blunt with Bruce. And Dick wasn’t going to watch as he put Y/N through what he and his brothers had to in the past.

She would bend and fold herself for Bruce, lowering her expectations and latching onto what little he gave her, putting it all on a pedestal and giving it more meaning than it deserved.

“If you promise to actually commit to someone for the first time in your life and put them before Batman, I’ll walk away. I’ll do it for you. And I’ll do it for her.” The fire in his eyes was blazing. “But I can’t sit back and watch as you treat her like shit. She deserves better than that. And you know it.”

There wasn’t a single lie in what Dick said.

Over the years, Dick was always the most frustrated with Bruce’s lack of emotional competence. Jason was angry at Bruce for far more than just that. Tim didn’t seem to have many thoughts on it. And Damian didn’t see it as a problem, which was an entirely different issue.

But if it weren’t for Dick, Bruce would be far worse – even though that seemed rather impossible.

“Do you love her?” Bruce asked Dick.

He blinked at the question, taken off guard by how intimate it felt coming from Bruce.

“Yes,” Dick answered, leaving no room for doubt.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Dick glared at him.

But Dick still jumped right into it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Y/N is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. She makes me laugh – even when I know her sarcasm and humor are hiding darkness. She’s selfless – more selfless than all of us. And she cares about everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. She dedicated her life to helping people and, until recently, she was fine doing it all by herself. ”

Bruce couldn’t help but smirk darkly at Dick’s list and crossed his arms, “You forgot to mention how beautiful she is.”

“Yeah. Well… anyone with eyes knows that,” Dick rumbled.

Bruce was quiet, clearly deep in thought.

What was going on in that head of his?

“She left Gotham,” Bruce finally stated.

Dick’s eyes widened. “Left?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday? So...what? You don’t know where she is or you’re not going after her?” Dick snapped.

“I know where she is.”

Dick’s face dropped. “You’re not going after her,” he muttered in disbelief.

Bruce didn’t have to say anything to confirm Dick’s suspicions.

“You’re an asshole and a fool, Bruce.”

“I’m doing the best thing for her,” he countered.

“That’s what you think. But how will she feel?” Dick shook his head in disgust. “But you never ask yourself those questions, do you, Bruce? You never consider other people’s feelings.”

“I promised to always put Gotham first, Dick.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce!” Dick groaned. “You made that promise – what? – 20 years ago? Don’t try to tell me that things haven’t change.”

“You think she wants to stay in this mansion by herself, wondering if I’m going to come back alive?” Bruce finally fought back. “You think she deserves a man who will always put her second?”

“Then don’t, Bruce! Don’t put her second! She chose you! Don’t make her regret it!”

But Dick had enough and he also wanted the final word.

So with that, he stormed out of the cave, leaving Bruce alone again.

Dick was about to go to his room and finish packing up his things to leave when Alfred called his name.

“This arrived for you,” Alfred informed him politely as he offered him an envelope.

Dick’s heart beat faster as he grabbed the letter, somehow already knowing it was from Y/N.

He ripped it open without hesitation, not bothering to wait for the privacy of his room to read it.

Dick,

We both know I’m absolute shit at opening up. But I am hoping that maybe writing it all down will be easier. I figured it’s worth a try.

I’m sorry for the way things happened. I hope you believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt the two of you.

It recently occurred to me that I haven’t experienced much of life.

I went from living in an abusive household, to living on the streets, to using all of my energy trying to bring down the corrupt. I’ve spent so much of my life either running or fighting that I realized I don’t actually know how to just simply…live.

So...

By the time you get this, I will have left Gotham. I think it’s about time I stop running and start learning who I am when I stand still.

I don’t expect you to forgive me for pushing and pulling you.

But I hope you believe me when I say I love you. I really do, Dick Grayson.

And the truth is, you scared the shit out of me. But I also know you deserve someone more than just me. And the idea of you realizing that at any moment, only to leave me, was too heartbreaking to face.

I hope this isn’t goodbye forever.

“When did this arrive?” Dick asked almost panicked.

“Just this morning, Master Dick.” Alfred answered.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

He took a few steps toward the stairs before Alfred called out, “Master Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“It feels rather important to emphasize that there was only one letter…”

Dick’s gaze flickered to where the cave entrance was, the place they both knew where Bruce was currently hiding.

Then he looked back to Alfred, showing that he understood what he was trying to silently tell him.

Y/N didn’t write a letter to Bruce.

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

Part 12 – The End

I’m sorry to tell you that there is only one more part after this.

So please please please let me know what you think. Write me a book report. Write me a novel.

A/N: The scene between Bruce and Dick was inspired by two things:

This conversation from the comics.

And this scene from Sabrina. Obviously this is a much more comical take, but I’ve seen this movie probably 100 times and it holds a similar meaning to this story.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 11 #dick grayons x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson #dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne #bruce wayne reader insert #dick grayson reader insert #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #batboys #batfam

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mandareeboo · 4 years ago

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SU Music Rankings

Bc I can and I wanna start some Disk Horse rip. These are all in order of preference, with explanations, etc. It’s a long bitch. That said, I’m not counting little short jingles or small joke songs like Little Butler. This is the meat and potatoes of SU music- just under 30 songs. I might do the rest if people like my takes lol.

I scored it mostly on three bases- how dear it was to my heart, how much/often I relisten to it, and also what it means to the plot. That said, little fun songs don’t automatically go farther down than big, plot-heavy songs either! It’s a strange little balance.

Special Note: I don’t dislike any of this music! I love SU and that includes its bumps and glitches. I just pick favorite children lol.

1.) Change

Was there ever a more Steven moment than when he wiped the blood off his face and kissed it into sparkles? I think not.

If “Be Wherever You Are” is an ode to young Steven, then this is teen Steven’s. Talking about change, and how much and how little it can do. How he holds his arms up for Spinel to hug him, so trusting. How he seems able to just. Break into soft tears at will, and not to be manipulative- it’s just his kind nature. The warmth in his voice. Fuck yesssss.

2.) Change Your Mind

This song is only fifty five seconds and it’s EVERYTHING to me. It really felt like someone was speaking the words I’d always held deep inside of me, unsure of how to say. It feels like a goodbye to someone who never really loved me.

As much as I enjoyed Future, if this was the finale of SU, I would’ve been perfectly okay with that.

3.) Drift Away

This song gave me legitimate shivers the first time I heard it, and it still haunts me to this day. Spinel stayed, and waited, and all she got was a transmission thousands of years later. Fuck.

4.) Here We Are In The Future

THE MOVIE IS SU AS ITS BEST AND I WON’T BE SWAYED ON IT. Steven being a teen who loves his weird family but is growing just a bit sarcastic to their drama. The adorable love he and Connie share. His slow realization that he will always be working, always have things to do, is both somber and real. The Crystal Gems won’t be safe with one epic battle. They’ll be safe with years of hard work and love. HIS LITTLE HANDSHAKE WITH AMETHYST.

This is a helluva bop and a great way to summarize the main character’s backstories.

5.) Let’s Only Think About Love

Did ya’ll know that Zach Callison killed his throat with that last note? He gave his all for this performance in a vocal range he no longer comfortably do and by god did it SHINE. The FLAIR. The FORESHADOWING. All of the Gems all being awkward about Rose and Steven trying to bring them to the present. Peridot having a mini-existential crisis in a cute yellow dress. I love Zach Callison’s normal singing voice but man is that a fucking bop. Nothing will ever beat it.

6.) Here Comes A Thought

This bad boy helped me out a LOT with some mental issues I was dealing with in high school. I was unmedicated, unsupervised, and full of anxiety. I’d have break downs when I tried to speak about certain things. I couldn’t function. This song inspired me. It helped me feel okay with my intrusive thoughts.

And the episode! -chef’s kiss-. Once again bringing up the morally gray area of training child soldiers. Connie expanding her social group. Steven’s trauma hauling ass in that second half. The ANIMATION. Stevonnie’s gorgeous singing voice. GOD yes.

7.) It’s Over Isn’t It?

Just barely squeaking above Stronger Than You, this ballad is everything gorgeous. The whole episode is. I think Mr. Greg stands in the top five of my episodes for the entire show. It even got nominated!

There’s just so much about this song that I love. The gentle melancholy of Pearl’s voice. How the crew had to redo the shots for this bit bc Deedee went so fucking hard. The hard cuts between Pearl, remembering the love of her life, and Steven, who has begun to feel like he took her away. I’d recommend this song to anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t know about SU, simply bc it tugs so many heartstrings of love, loss, and responsibility.

8.) Stronger Than You

Did you realize this episode aired SEVEN years ago? This bitch was what got me into SU! Hearing about Ruby and Sapphire made my little gay heart so happy inside, and then getting a whole song confirming that they were a couple, that their love powered the strongest Gem on the team? Aaaaaaaaa

To this DAY I get excited when I hear Estelle start singing. This song is timeless. This song will live in media history. God I fucking love this song.

9.) Other Friends

I’m not the biggest musical person, so I hadn’t heard of Sarah Stiles before her casting as Spinel, but JESUS CHRIST the lady went hard. She went SO fucking hard. Sarah Stiles started on 100 and somehow just kept CLIMBING. You can just hear the sheer manic energy building in her voice, the anger and resentment. 10/10 Sarah Stiles is a queen.

10.) Independent Together

This made the list entirely bc the crew was like “you’re gonna get a himbo ass Steven-Greg fusion singing with Opal while Garnet flies across the moon on Lion while floating” and I am forever thankful to them for it

11.) Who We Are

Bismuth deserved more songs. ‘Nuff said.

12.) Peace and Love (On the Planet Earth)

It Could’ve been Great is EASILY one of my favorite s2 episodes. I love the entire concept of this song. Of Steven making music to reflect how much Earth means to him and his family. Of him teaching Peridot some self-care. Also Peridot’s singing voice is really cute and squeaky.

I know it’s silly, but I would’ve really enjoyed a flip around of this in Future! Like Peridot reminding Steven how much he loves music, that he needs to take time to relax for himself, maybe with a new verse or just a remix of the original song!

13.) Something Entirely New

I watched this episode as it aired, and I legitimately almost cried. I love Charlyne Yi’s voice so much ya’ll- her raspy, not perfect singing voice against Sapphire’s deep soothing lull is great.

And to have Ruby and Sapphire’s meeting be the way it was- for Ruby to bemoan Sapphire losing Homeworld, to being stuck with a single Ruby, while Sapphire is a noble who has always been taught everyone in her “caste” is vitally important (and has, in her own mind, taken that to mean every Gem, as she should) and how they come together and make each other happy. Good shit good shit.

14.) I’m Just a Comet

The fact that Greg’s music career never really blasted off pisses me off to this day bc Tom Scharpling’s voice is fucking BUTTER. Also the song really feels like a jab at his parents now that we know the kind of dynamic he had growing up. “This life in the stars if all I’ve ever known” is definitely him wiping away their existence after reminding them (and himself) the things they used to say about him.

15.) Do It For Her

This episode. This fucking episode. This episode got me permanently hooked on SU. I’d just binged season 1 and was kinda meh about it overall after the bop of Stronger Than You. “Oh,” I thought to myself, foolishly, “I’ll probably just casually watch this from time to time.”

Like three days later Sworn to the Sword aired and that was it. I was hooked! Pearl’s gentle training song turning darker and darker, Connie’s accompaniment from nervous to determined to fully into such a toxic mindset. The fact that SU had the BALLS to discuss the repercussions of training child soldiers, now and later. This episode was everything to me, STILL is everything to me.

Six years and well over 100 fanfics written later, I think it’s safe to say this show swallowed me whole and never let go.

16.) System/Boot.pearl_final(3)

I debated putting this on the list because it’s not anything crazy important, just a way to show things are Wrong, but I had to do it entirely bc Pearl is so damn SALTY.

Like telling us about the Gems makes sense, she felt like she was given a duty, but she went so damn petty. WHY is that Ruby alone. Gross. This Amethyst is a trash dump. Wtf are you people.

17.) Full Disclosure

This episode really feels like a turning point for SU. Before, the show had its dark moments- but now we’re in the thick of it, and it’s not going away. Full Disclosure felt like an rebuff to the idea of returning to any normal we’d established in season 1. Gems are actually a giant species now. Gems tried to kill us now. There’s this Yellow Diamond bitch who got namedropped. Something about a Cluster.

The song itself is BALLER, with its ingenious use of Steven’s ringtone and photos as he tries to decide whether to clue in Connie on all this nonsense. Meanwhile we, the audience, already know damn well Connie about to yeet some common sense into him.

18.) What’s the Use of Feeling Blue?

I’mma admit it- I’m a Yellow Diamond stan. I’ve always loved her- her anger, her poise, her hardworking nature. I actively argued against the “Yellow Shattered Pink” theories back in the day. But, man, when this arc leaked? I got so overexcited I was too jittery to watch it for like two days. It’s easily my favorite arc of the series. The sheer alien nature of the zoo, the Famethyst, and absolutely Patti Lupone’s beautiful ballad. Goddamn. Yellow singing to Blue to try and help her regain her old status, the warble in her voice as she reminds Blue she misses Pink too, the movement of the bubbles as she talks about attack. It gives me shivers to this day. FUCK.

19.) Tower of Mistakes

This is, fun fact, that only SU song I have completely memorized. The story itself is kinda funny! See, we lost internet at my house for a solid 5 to 6 months when these episodes aired, so I only got a very brief window to view them all. But this was the first Amethyst song in a long while, and I didn’t want to forget it! So I keep replaying it in my head for ages. And that’s still definitely a thing.

Anyway will never not be sad that this entire song was about making it up to Garnet for Amethyst’s perceived slights with Sugilite (which was a two-way road), only for Garnet to pressure her into fusion later when pissed and never discuss it again bc Garnet probably never thought twice about it and Amethyst has the emotional openness of a clam that’s just been told its ugly. Helluva way to make someone feel like shit, G. Helluva way to bottle that shit, Ames.

20.) On the Run

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Amethyst! Needed! More! Songs!

The dichotomy between Steven’s play and Amethyst’s honest desire to run away from home is so well-done, especially when you consider a lot of Steven and Amethyst’s actions are playing together. The song is also near and dear to me simply bc it’s my favorite Amethyst episode to exist (well, maybe second to What’s Your Problem, but not by much). Moments like these are all the proof I need that they were right to fuse first.

21.) Be Wherever You Are

This tune really just feels like an ode to who Steven was as a kid. Trapped on an island with no way home, and he’s just happy to be with his friends. The stars are beautiful and not oppressive. Also that one animatic with Lars and the Off Colors playing in the Homeworld Kindergarten to this music was iconic and made this song get stuck in my head for a solid month.

22.) Familiar

I ADORE how the crew use bright neon colors to show how alien Homeworld can be. And Steven recognizing that the Diamonds treat him how the CGs used to, and how prepared he is to “fix” a broken family. It’s a soft, gentle tune about melancholy. Also the Pebbles are beautiful.

23.) Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Such a cute little love ballad, but every time I listen to it now I just imagine the heart attack Rose must’ve had at the line “And if we look out of place/Well, baby, that's okay/I'll drive us into outer space.” like there’s a Vietnam war flashback if I ever heard one

24.) What Can I Do?

I’m kind of neutral on this one? Rose and Greg both have great voices, but the song itself lacks many lyrics. I think it was definitely a good way to show Rose’s flaws in thinking.

Also, I’m shocked they managed cram that much vaguely sexual innuendo into two minutes, followed by how Not Hetereo that dance between Rose and Pearl was, and not get their asses chewed by it. You go guys.

25.) Cookie Cat

I love a lot of the vibes this song has. The lyrics are so damn prophetic, but they also sound like the kind of weird 90s commercials I grew up on. It’s been like two decades since I saw the Shirley Temple commercial but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember “Animals crackers in my soup! Monkey and rabbits loop-de-loop.”

26.) Giant Woman

I am. NOT the biggest fan of Steven’s original singing voice. I feel bad saying that, since it was just Zach Callison as a kid, but he never jived well with me for some reason. So I wouldn’t listen to this on the fly.

The song itself is still really good though, with all sorts of fun animation of Amethyst and Pearl being bitchy to each other. It’s a bit sad in hindsight to see tiny Steven trying to get his moms to get along. Ahh, season 1.

27.) Strong in the Real Way

This song has SUCH a strong start. Pearl reflecting on Sugilite’s problems, but the show making sure to show us that Pearl’s lack of enthusiasm towards her also lends itself to jealousy as well as just general malaise. How much she cares about Steven, and wants him to grow up strong.

And then Steven just kinda. Ruins it? I appreciate his enthusiasm for tryna bulk up but to take what was starting as such a rich, personal song and broadcasting it to random strangers just makes me a bit sad. Almost a bit angry on her behalf?

28.) That Distant Shore

I KNOW this is gonna create some discourse, but I’m just not the biggest Lapis stan. I love her voice. I love the visuals of the song. And I get why she felt afraid and needed to flee.

But Lapis never got to take responsibility for her own actions. And, in the end, the song feels hollow to me- because we all know she’ll never talk to anyone about it, know she’ll burst back in and destroy the barn, and no one will ever question it. I like Lapis a lot, but I feel like her arc never was fully finished. She never got help. She never learned to feel safe.

29.) Dear Old Dad

I’ve yet to meet a single human being who likes this episode tbh. There’s some great discussion about what kind of parent Greg is from it, and what kind of dynamic he has with the Gems that he felt he had to fake an injury to hang out with his son. Honestly the first half was fine and dandy. It’s just that then they Greg just went out of his way to drag Steven away from missions and such. It never jived well with his character before or after.

Also, is it just me, or does Zach himself sound like he hates the song as he sings it? There’s no passion or heart in his voice. It sounds like they told him to read off cue cards and he did. Tom Scharpling’s best attempts didn’t save this one for being a skipper. But the episode, unfortunately, isn’t, so it gets a spot on here.

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azurevi · 4 years ago

Note

Fluff 49 with the octa trio please? Thank you :333

49. “Is somebody jealous?” with octavinelle

Thanks for requesting! I hope this is good enough 😔

Azul

Your relationship with Azul is so secure that one might even comment about how laid back you are. But both of you know better than anyone that you love each other, and there's nothing to worry about at all.

Well, that's what Azul would like to think, but recently his heart has been betraying his words a lot. In his defense, you've been getting pretty close with someone else. It's not as though he doesn't trust you, no, it is your friend whom he doubts.

He's pretty sure he isn't imagining things, that the flirtations and sly glances and unneeded physical touches are signs that your friend wants more than just friendship from you. Although you've never responded to any of his attempts, he still feels a weird feeling boiling in his chest everytime they get a little too close to you.

It sucks more when he has to stay at Mostro Lounge and work overtime, because that means your friend can take the opportunity and snatch you away. He's grateful that you always come back to him after the day, but he can't get rid of the uneasiness. Perhaps he's scared. You may have told him times and times that you love him, but he admits that there's still something which your friend possesses and he doesn't. There's a constant voice in the back of his head, taunting him about how he isn't as good as them. Sometimes it's so loud that he just wishes to turn it off.

Your friend is getting bolder and bolder by day. Even when you and Azul are clearly having alone time, they will shamelessly join in, and being a nice person you never turn them down. Azul wishes you would though, but he doesn't want to upset you by being selfish.

You aren't oblivious though. It's clear as day how uncomfortable Azul acts around them -- his posture stiffens and his head tilts up slightly, eyes ever so cold but his fingers are always restless. He never confirms anything though, so for a while you just decide to let it slide, but he's been looking so bothered lately that you make up your mind to lure the truth out of him.

"Hey," you knock on the door to his VIP room. His eyes basically shine at the sight of you.

"I thought you're going out with your friend," he says instead, once again lacking subtlety.

"I was, but I turned them down at the last minute,'

Azul flicks his gaze up. "You did? Why?"

"I don't know, maybe because someone is sulking?"

He doesn't have to say anything. His avoiding glances already reveal enough. "I'm not sulking," comes his futile, weak defense.

"Really? Then what's going on?"

After a moment of silence Azul puts down his pen, burying his face in his head as if in exasperation. "It's nothing… you've just been spending time with them a lot,"

Your brow arch curiously. "No way. Is somebody jealous?"

Blood shoots to his cheeks, painting the tips of his ears red. He looks like a child caught red handed for stealing candies during midnight.

"I'm not- I- fine. I am a little jealous, alright? But I trust you. It's them I don't trust," he nudges his head to the side, as if your friend is standing right there. "I may be overthinking things, but I think they're interested in you,"

"Are they?" you recall the times you spent together, trying to pick up possible hints. At your serious expression Azul waved you off, "As I said, it's just me overthinking. Don't fuss over it,"

"That won't do, you're clearly troubled," you walk to his side, prompting him to turn to you. "How about we do this, I make sure to draw the line between us and spend more time with you. Will that make you feel better?"

"You don't have to. I'm not a child who whines when his mother disappears for a minute."

"No you aren't. What you are is my partner, and I am willing to do anything to comfort you, alright?" you plant a kiss on his cheek, noting how hot his face is. "I'm sorry for neglecting you,"

"You don't have to apologize…" he mumbles, although his originally furrowed brows have relaxed significantly. Knowing that you're going to be there for him no matter what is already enough for him to ease his worries.

Jade

Jade adores you. It isn't anything surprising, basically the whole school knows about it. It isn't as if he tries to hide it anyways. He loves to shower you with affection even when you're in public, more so when you're having alone times. His affection is gentle and understanding, which is one of the many reasons you fell for him, but you've never expected these qualities to become the source of your plaguing worries.

Jade's smile is one of a kind. It can be benevolent and hostile at the same time, and it can be as venomous as it can be soothing. As someone who has to constantly deal with customers by Azul's side, he has mastered the ability to please someone with his appearance. And being the serious businessman that he is, he seldom acts recklessly.

That explains why he's caught the attention of one business partner, and for the past few days they've been asking Jade to accompany them around the campus. You shouldn't feel jealous about it, really, it's part of his job after all, but you can't help comparing the both of you and realizing how you lack the same charisma that they hold. However, you decide to keep it to yourself, not wanting to come off as a clingy and inconsiderate partner.

There's only one thing that you fail to realize, which is how sharp Jade's eyes are. It's true that he has been spending less time with you lately, but during the scarce moments when you're together he can already figure out what is clouding your mind.

"Good evening, my dear," Jade arrives at the Ramshackle dorm after work as usual, to steal more time with you. His workload may be burdening, but he never misses any chance to be around you.

"How's work?" you ask casually, trying not to bring up the fact that he was once again asked to entertain the client and had to cancel your lunch together.

"Work's fine," he reaches out and pulls you towards him just as you walk to hang his jacket, planting a long, deep kiss on your forehead. "How was your day?"

"Fine," you frown a little.

"Is that right? You seem to look upset though," he leans back to get a good look at your face, but you bow your head down in embarrassment. "I'm not upset,"

It seems that you're not going to give up your secret easily.

"Is somebody jealous?"

Your head shoots up, eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

Jade chuckles. "I asked whether you're jealous. I know I've been occupied lately, and I don't want you to feel lonely,"

"I'm not lonely. I understand that you have responsibilities," you mumble, still too stubborn to admit what's going on in your mind.

"That's true, but I am also your boyfriend, am I not? Making you feel loved is my responsibility too," he cups your cheeks with his palms, fitting your face in his hold and looking at you with the soft look that's reserved only for you. "Don't worry. Even when I'm busy, I'm always thinking about you,"

His honesty brings a blush to your cheeks and you wrap your arms around him in an attempt to hide your flustered countenance.

"Thank you, Jade."

"Of course, my love."

Floyd

Dating Floyd means that you're going to be loved for every single moment in your life. Floyd is physically affectionate, and he's definitely going to give you tackle hugs at any given chance. Be prepared to have him stick around and shower you with kisses and touches. With his constantly overflowing affections for you it's really hard for you to feel jealousy and envy.

Well, that's before the rabbit comes between the two of you.

You still can't believe that you're jealous of a goddamn rabbit, but here you are. Perhaps you've been getting too used to Floyd and his intimacy that the moment he averts his attention, you immediately feel hollow.

The two of you found this fellow outside your dorm, shivering in the cold and seemingly lost. Floyd took an interest to the small creature almost immediately and seems to have forgotten about you. You're sure he doesn't intend to ignore you, but suddenly losing his fondness just makes you feel out of place.

You refuse to act on your feelings though. What will he say if he finds out how needy you are? Perhaps he will deem you too hard to please or even a nuisance… you shake your head at the thought, returning to watching him play with the bunny.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest~" Floyd buries his face into the soft white fur, giggling at himself. At your silence he turns to you, only to find you seemingly troubled as your eyebrows knit together.

"Y/N~" he calls out and pouts when there's no response. He scoots over to you and pokes your face, only then is he successful in getting your attention.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, resting his jaw on his palm with an interested shine in his eyes.

"Nothing," you shake your head, nudging your head towards the rabbit. "Why don't you go and spend some more time with it? I'm sure it's getting lonely,"

Floyd is quiet for a while, face blank as the gears in his head work. After a moment, he breaks into a small smile. "I only left for a minute, it's not going to get lonely that easily…" you gulp at his words that suddenly seem to carry a hidden meaning. "What about you? Are you feeling deserted, somehow? Or better! Is someone jealous~?"

"I'm not," you quickly retort. Floyd laughs, throwing his head back carefreely. "I think you are though? Are you sad because I haven't been giving you love lately?"

You grunt, unwilling to answer any more of his questions which he already has the answers to. Seeing your annoyed expression, he decides to drop his teasing. "Alright~ I will show you more love, alright?" he wraps you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and swaying you from side to side. You're not going to admit it, but you've missed this.

"Next time you want hugs and kisses, you only need to ask~" he says in a sing-songy voice, chuckling as you denies ever having such desires.

#twst x reader #octavinelle #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #sie writes

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homoose · 4 years ago

Text

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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90spumkin · 4 years ago

Text

Masterpiece

Summary: Who knew art could lead to an awkward meeting that would later lead to beautiful relationship.

A/N: I know I said I would post this Friday, but oh well here we are. All inserted pictures are from Pinterest. I absolutely loved writing this so please send me your feedback.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Artist! Reader

Warnings: swearing, implied/slightly descriptive smut, mention of alcohol and addiction

Word Count: 2.8K

Spencer doesn’t know how long he had been zoned out not listening to a word Emily said to him. They were standing in an obnoxiously long line at their favorite coffee shop. Spencer was admiring the art in front of him, the way the yellows and oranges flowed together was mesmerizing. They were so mesmerizing that Spencer didn’t realize the art was on the back pocket of the stranger’s shorts standing in line in front of them.

It wasn’t until Emily nudge Spencer’s shoulder, “Quit looking at that girl’s ass!” Spencer saw where Emily was pointing as she spoke. As he went to say, “I was not checking out her ass.”, the stranger with the mesmerizing art on her ass turned around to see the raven haired woman pointing down at the lower part of her body and the tall curly haired man blushing as he was caught in the act.

The woman smirked at them both and said, “Well my shorts do say ‘this butt is art’ so I guess technically you were just taking in all its beauty.” This made Emily snort and Spencer stutter. He tried to stutter out an apology, but by the time his brain allowed him to access words again Emily’s phone rang loudly.

She answered quickly and hung up just as fast, “I have to go to a meeting apparently. Sometimes I hate being the boss. I’ll catch up with you later, Spencer.” And with that she was gone, leaving Spencer there with the still smirking woman.

“You know the least you could do is buy my coffee to make up for this adorable fiasco.” She said causing Spencer to blush. He nodded his head and said, “Yes of course. I’m really sorry about all that. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid by the way.”

She smiled at him as he went to stand beside her in line, “Oh doctor, fascinating. I’m y/n.”

Once they had finally gotten their coffee and found a small table, conversation between the two flowed so effortlessly. “So, doctor, huh? Care to share with the class what kind?” Y/n asked as she took a sip of her dark beverage.

Spencer chuckled, “I have PhD’s in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering along with BA’s in psychology, sociology, and philosophy. I’m not a doctor who works in a hospital, but one who works in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Y/n smiled at him over her cup, “That kind of makes sense you look like a very intelligent man. Plus, you look way better in a cardigan than you probably would in scrubs.”

Their conversation went on without a hitch, no moments of awkward silence. They talked about their careers, y/n explained how she was an artist and Spencer adored the way she lit up as she talked. They constantly were bouncing ideas and questions off one another. The conversations stretched over many different topics, each just as interesting as the last. Y/n even listened and question Spencer on several of his fact dumps.

They both seemed to have forgotten the outside world existed until Spencer happened to notice the sun setting through the coffee shop windows. As he admired the colors in the sky he said, “The sky is always so lovely at sunset, but I hate that it could mean the end of this.”

He looked back at y/n who was smiling at him. “Okay I don’t usually invite strange men to my home, but would you like to come see some of my art that I’ve been working on?” Spencer smirked and narrowed his eyes, “You think I’m strange?” Y/n laughed, “Only in the best way.”

The first thing Spencer did when he entered y/n incredibly spacious apartment was admire all the art lining the walls. He had thought the art displayed on her jean shorts was mesmerizing, but the art that was in front of him now was simply breathtaking.

Spencer walked the walls, admiring and analyzing each piece. Y/n stood beside him as he smiled at the painting of a cow. She laughed softly as she spoke, “There is always a story behind each of my paintings. Some are silly, some are painful. However, this one happens to be my favorite. I grew up on a farm and I had a cow named Milky” She looked at Spencer who was trying to hide a laugh, “Hey I was 8! Anyways she was my best friend. It was funny when I first started to draw and paint, I would always use her as a model. Sometimes it seemed as if she was posing for me.”

Spencer didn’t take his eyes off y/n the whole time she was talking. Once y/n finished her story she looked at Spencer. Both of their smiles growing bigger. He looked back at the painting and said, “You know in another life I would love to be a cowboy with cows and other animals on a small ranch somewhere.”

Y/n giggled, “Would you name one of your cows Milky?” Spencer looked at her fondly and said, “For you, I would.”

Spencer turned his head to the right and noticed a canvas with several different shades of red bleeding into one another, there was broken glass scattered across it. He made his way closer, he turned towards y/n and asked, “What’s the story behind this one?”

Y/n’s eyes held a hint of sadness as she drew in a deep breath. She was hesitant at first but finally explained, “The glass is broken beer bottles, I was- am an alcoholic. I am currently 5 years sober, almost 6 now. I made this to remind myself of all the hate and pain drinking brought to my life” Y/n turned towards Spencer expecting him not to understand, but instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sobriety chip.

Y/n’s eyes started to tear up at the fact that someone finally wasn’t judging her but understanding her. She too pulled out a chip and both y/n and Spencer let out laughs full of pain but also full happiness. Spencer reached out a hand and placed it on y/n’s cheek. His thumb ran smoothly across her face to wipe a tear that had escaped.

When Spencer spoke again his words were soft, “Out of all this art, I think you are the one true masterpiece.”

One minute they were staring into one another’s eyes, and the next they were getting lost in the feel of the other’s lips neither one really sure when they had made it to y/n’s bedroom. Spencer held y/n against him firmly, but it felt delicate all at once. His fingers traced over every edge and curve of her body bringing sounds of pleasure from her beautiful lips.

Spencer planted soft kisses across y/n’s body as if he were painting and her body was his canvas. With every roll of Spencer’s hips, flashes of color seemed to blind him. When y/n arched her back, Spencer let her know she was more beautiful than any art piece.

The next morning, Spencer woke up to the sun shining through the windows. He felt y/n stir next to him, he couldn’t help but take in how lovely she looked. The sun seemed to only amplify her beauty.

Y/n opened her eyes to find Spencer staring at her. She smirked and closed her eyes again, curling up closer to him, “You’re staring.” Spencer chuckled causing vibrations to run through his chest making y/n giggle. “I’m admiring.” Spencer told her.

Y/n sat up to stretch, the sheets falling around her making her look like a sculpture of a goddess. She smiled down at him and scrunched up her nose “Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever you say.”

While they started to dress, well y/n was getting dressed Spencer was still looking for his shirt, he noticed the shorts y/n was putting on had art on them just like the ones before. However, these were not shades of yellow and orange. These shorts had little planets painted on them.

Y/n turned around to see Spencer’s eyes once again focused on her ass, “Why are you smiling like that?” At her question Spencer let out the laugh he was holding in as he said, “Ummm- well- it’s just that- your ass is out of this world.”

Y/n snorted and threw a pillow towards Spencer who actually caught it, “Oh the doctors got jokes this morning.”

Spencer spotted his shirt in the floor and as he bent over to get it, he said, “Not jokes, facts.” This only made y/n smile more.

Y/n watched the muscles in Spencer’s back flex as he fixed his shirt to put it on. Right before he put it over his head she asked, “Can I- can I paint something on your back?”

Spencer stopped all movements to look at y/n, he noticed the blush tinting her cheeks. His heart seemed to scream with emotions. Spencer through his shirt back on the ground and asked, “Where do you want me?” Y/n giggled and pointed to the bed.

Y/n had been straddling Spencer’s back for about 15-to-20-minute minutes when he no longer felt the softness of the paintbrush against his skin. Y/n had been humming while she worked and with the gentleness of each stroke of the brush, Spencer kept dozing off.

Y/n removed herself from Spencer causing him to turn his head to look up at her, she was smiling so brightly Spencer never wanted to look away. Y/n was staring down at the work on Spencer’s back and jumped slightly when he asked, “Can I see it?”

“Oh yes! Of course!”, she rushed to put down her paints and brushes. Y/n grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled him towards the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. Before handing him the handheld mirror she said, “Close your eyes. I’m going to count to 3.” Spencer just chuckled and nodded.

“1…”

“…2…”

“…3”

Spencer opened his eyes and let out a gasp. The art that now covered his back was simple but so pretty. There were no defined lines, the colors overlapped in some places which just made it all the more beautiful. He looked from the mirror to y/n to see her hands clasped together and held against her mouth. She moved her hands slightly to ask, “So, what do you think?” Spencer looked back at the mirror and said, “I never want to take it off.”

After the time Spencer spent with y/n he was scared he would never see or talk to her again. Right after she revealed the painting she had done on his back, Emily called him with a new case. He ran out of there so fast he didn’t have time to remove the paint or give y/n his number. The plane ride was slightly uncomfortable with his clothes sticking to the paint.

However, it turned out the universe was on his side. They were leaving one case going straight to another, so Spencer’s spirits were kind of in shambles and his mind was consumed with thoughts of y/n. His sadness was starting to take over his mood when his rarely used cell phoned chimed, signaling that he just received a text.

Hi, doc. It’s your favorite artist. I hope it isn’t weird I’m texting you. I got a call from someone named Penelope. She said Emily thought you would like to hear from me.

Spencer looked over towards Emily who was smirking as she read over the case file, she knew who was texting him. Spencer just shook his head as he typed out his response, smiling the whole time.

Hello, y/n. That would be my best friends medaling in my life. Luckily, this time they were right.

Y/n response came back fast, and Spencer chuckled softly imagining the teasing look she was probably making as she asked-

This time?

That is a story for another time.

Over the course of the several weeks Spencer was gone, Y/n and Spencer texted every chance they got. A lot of the times Spencer would be too busy and would see messages from y/n he had gotten through the day.

I was running late this morning due to me having terrible time management skills and well- I went to brunch with paint completely covering my clothes.

Ha look what I did. I’m starting to think I’m the real genius here. click here for image

SPENCER REID. DID YOU REALLY HAVE PENELOPE GO BUY ME THIS AND BRING IT TO ME?!?! I love it! Thank you! click here for image

Spencer would always laugh and respond every time he got the chance. One night he was actually able to call her.

“Hello?”

“Are not sure how to answer a phone or are you questioning if I’m really calling you?” Spencer teased.

“Well, isn’t someone feeling sassy today.” Y/n laughed; she was overwhelmingly happy to hear his voice.

They spent most of the night just catching up. Y/n never once asked about the case and for that Spencer was thankful. Spencer saw the sun start to rise and realized what time it was.

“I should probably try and get at least a few hours of sleep.” Spencer said into the phone. He heard her gasp and then frantically started apologizing, “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! I was just so happy to talk to you I didn’t realize. I-“

Spencer cut her off with a “Hey. It perfectly okay. I love talking to you. If it were possible, I would never sleep if it meant I could talk to you forever.”

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling, “Well guess what doc. You’re kind of stuck with me get ready for me to never stop talking.” Spencer laughed softly, “I am definitely okay with that.”

As soon as the jet landed, Spencer texted y/n to let her know they were back. What he didn’t expect was for her to be standing in the bullpen with Penelope. Spencer couldn’t help but practically sprint to her, ignoring the knowing looks from his teammates.

When reached her, he wrapped her in a hug. Y/n giggled as she hugged him back. When they pulled apart Spencer asked, “What are you doing here?” Y/n shrugged and looked towards Penelope who had left her side to join the others and said, “Reasons.” She looked back at Spencer and winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head as he wrapped her in another hug.

Spencer and y/n left with Spencer promising to finish the paperwork first thing the following week. Once they were outside y/n turned to Spencer and said, “Okay so the main reason I couldn’t wait any longer to see you is I want to ask you something?”

Spencer turned his head and squinted his eyes, “Should I be scared?” Y/n barked out a laugh and grabbed Spencer’s hand. He stared where their hands were joined. Y/n must have thought he didn’t want to hold her hand because she noticed him staring and let go.

Y/n became a little nervous as she asked, “I- I wanted to ask you to be my plus one at an art show tomorrow. This will be the second art show my work has been in and I’m extremely nervous and would love for you to be there.”

Spencer smiled, feeling beyond flattered that she would want him there. He grabbed her hand the same way she had before and said, “I would love nothing more.”

That following night at the art show Spencer knew for certain he was completely consumed with feelings for y/n. He couldn’t help but to admire how her face lit up every time she talked about her work with other guests. It fills him with pride every time she would turn away the champagne that is offered. What really sets his heart ablaze is how y/n would reach for his hand every time she moved on to another art piece or to speak to someone else. It was as if y/n wanted, needed him. Whether it was for comfort or confidence Spencer was happy to be either of those things for her.

Towards the end of the night Spencer and y/n had finally found a moment to be alone. They stood in front of a painting that kind of reminded Spencer of the mermaid from that one Disney movie Penelope made him watch.

Y/n must have thought so also because as she looked at the painting she said, “You know I am really glad you have become a part of my world.” Y/n turned her head to look at Spencer there was a gleam in her eye. Spencer responded by saying, “Is there any way I can always be a part of your world?”

Y/n responded by kissing Spencer, putting ever amount of emotion she felt into it. The kiss was more vibrant and meaningful than any art she could ever dream of creating.

Permanent Taglist: @criminalmindzjunkie @brooklynxnicole @the-queen-of-moons @imdefinitelyfloating @muffin-cup @theintimatewriter @averyhotchner @spenxerslut @spenciegoob @april-14-blog

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #fanfic #fanfiction

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actuallysaiyan · 4 years ago

Note

Yamcha NSFW alphabet, please? 😁

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Yamcha is super sweet with his aftercare. He loves to hold you in his arms for a little while after, his cock still deep inside of you. He’ll praise you as you can feel his seed leaking out of you. He then gets you all cleaned up and will get you water or something to eat if you are feeling it. He’s a big fan of pillow talk and cuddling and will not leave your side or fall asleep afterwards.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Yamcha would probably have to say his arms or legs are his favorite. He has a wonderful physique and he is very strong, despite what others may say. Yamcha also would probably say his smile is his favorite body part. The man is kind of vain but he is a good man.

On his lover, he is a sucker for beautiful eyes. They are the window to the soul. He sees how you are feeling just through your eyes and he knows when you are sad or unhappy. He wants to see your eyes shine when you are smiling and so happy. He also loves thighs. He just wants to be buried between your thighs for hours as they squeeze his face while you cum.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s so dirty with this. He loves cumming all over you and gets really aroused when you are all painted up with his seed. If you give him a blow job, you can expect him to give you the ultimate facial. Yamcha cums a lot and he will literally just unload his balls all over your pretty face. Then he scoops some of it up on his finger and feeds it to you. He’s also not opposed to cumming deep inside of you if you let him.

Yamcha is a big fan of teasing and edging you. He’ll keep you on the edge for hours just to hear you beg him to let you cum. He loves the pathetic mewls and whimpers you make whenever he’s got you so close to cumming. You better be ready for this.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He definitely has stolen a pair of your panties and uses it to masturbate. Whether or not you know it exists, he doesn’t care. He loves the silky feeling of it wrapped around his cock while he pumps his hand up and down and thinks of you. He’ll sniff them too and just imagine your pussy on his face. He loves it when you ride his face, so that’s definitely something that gets him off.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He had a few one night stands, so he wasn’t completely clueless. Yamcha learns fairly quickly, and while he isn’t the master of every technique, you know he is doing everything to make you feel loved and wanted and definitely keeps you satisfied. He will never let you go unsatisfied.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Yamcha loves 69. It’s his favorite position and it gets the job done correctly. He loves it when you sit on his face and wrap your gorgeous lips around his hard cock. Whenever you aren’t doing 69, Yamcha also loves having you in the missionary position but with your legs spread wide or up on his shoulders so that he can fuck you nice and deep. Anything to be able to fuck you deeply or to have you both cumming quickly.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s definitely goofy and loves to tell dirty jokes while he’s fucking you. Yamcha loves having fun sex and he wants you to moan and laugh. He wants you to have a good time, so expect lots of cheesy and sleazy dirty talk as he fucks you hard. Sometimes, he can be serious and loving especially when he’s feeling needy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s got a small patch of pubic hair that is very dark and coarse. He keeps it nice and clean and will trim it. He’s not a huge fan of shaving and actually enjoys it when you don’t shave either(unless you aren’t into that, then Yamcha is happy with whatever you like). He’s got a slight trail of dark hair that leads down into his pants as well.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This depends on how Yamcha is feeling, but most of the time he loves to treat sex and intimacy like a good time or a game. That’s not to say that Yamcha is playing head games or anything like that. He just enjoys having a good time with you and he loves to make sure that you are happy and feeling good. Sometimes, he gets very romantic and buys you stuff and plans special nights out at the fancy love hotel. It all depends on how he’s feeling.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He masturbates a healthy amount. Even if he fucks you that day, that doesn’t mean he’s going to not masturbate. He loves playing with toys and watching porn and he will absolutely lose his mind if you join him. Nothing better than for the both of you to watch some porn and masturbate together. Yamcha won’t be able to resist for long and he’ll just fuck you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Yamcha is kind of a vanilla guy, so his kinks are limited. He’s open to trying new things but he loves things that are tried and true. Some of his kinks involve lingerie, toys, spanking, squirting, tongue fucking and titty fucking. You could probably open his eyes to new things if you are both interested in it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

This one is really simple. Yamcha wants to fuck you somewhere privately. He doesn’t really wanna get caught. He loves just being able to take his time with you without getting interrupted or distracted by something else. He loves fucking you on the bed, but he’s not opposed to fucking on the couch or in the shower. Anything to get you alone and somewhere private...

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Yamcha is a sucker for revealing clothing. He finds you so damn sexy and he just wants you to flaunt that gorgeous body of yours. Anytime you wear something revealing, it gets his blood pumping. Yamcha is so turned on by this. He also loves when you give him that look, where you bite your lower lip and raise one eyebrow. Rub his thigh and tell him how you wanna be alone, and he’s there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will not be okay with anything that either hurts you seriously or embarrasses you. He’s not into anything involving feces or urine, but if you were up for it, he’d probably consider it honestly. It’s just not really his kind of thing. He’s also not super into sharing you or having semi-public sex.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ohhh Yamcha loves going down on you. It’s one of his favorite things in the world. The way you look down at him with that fucked out look and the taste of your arousal and he’s just immediately rock hard. The sounds you make and the wet sounds coming from your pussy. It’s just all so damn sexy. He’ll edge you for hours and then when he thinks you should cum, he makes you squirt.

But if you want to reciprocate and go down on him, Yamcha is so weak for that. He loves it when you both lie on the bed and you just worship his cock for hours. He’ll edge himself as best as he can when you do this. Play with his balls though, and he’s cumming quick. It’s one of his ultimate weaknesses.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This all depends on you. If you are feeling like you wanna get pounded, you better believe Yamcha will fuck you rough and fast. He’ll slap your ass and push your head down on the pillow while his cock slams into you over and over again. But, if you are feeling more needy and wanting love, he’s sensual. He’ll hold you close and shower you with praise and give you all the kisses while he slowly rocks his hips.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

There are times for these, and Yamcha is definitely grateful when he can fuck you over not being able to fuck you, but he’s not a huge fan of quickies. He wants to fuck you for hours if he can, and if he doesn’t get the time for that, then he’ll definitely settle for a good quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

This depends. He loves to experiment with you, but he doesn’t want to risk anything where it could result in death or harm. He also isn’t into doing anything in public, so you can expect him to keep the experimentation in the bedroom.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Yamcha can last a long time, and he’s good at edging himself if he needs to. Sometimes he gets very excited and cums quickly, but that’s usually only when you’ve been apart for a long time. He can go for a few rounds, but his refractory period is fairly normal. It takes him a little while to get hard.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He loves toys and generally uses them during sex. He loves going to the sex store with you and buying you all kinds of things that’ll help make you cum easier. He’s not afraid of having you use them on him either and actually loves it if you initiate with this.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be a tease a lot of the time, but it takes him everything not to just give in when you start begging. He loves listening to your pathetic little sounds when you plead to him, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on completely.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s loud and he loves grunting and groaning. Yamcha wants you to know he’s enjoying his time with you as well. He’ll be so loud when he cums and it’s honestly so damn sexy to hear him moan like this. He loves to talk dirty too and make some jokes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Yamcha is definitely into roleplay. If you wanna get into costume and character, he’s going to be so turned on by this. Your favorite roleplay is definitely sensei and student, but you both also enjoy playing doctor.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Yamcha is very muscular and very well built. His cock is long and thick, boasting a good 8 inches. It’s got lots of veins that drag against your walls and drive you crazy. He’s uncut and the base is definitely thicker than the head.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s so damn horny for you all of the time and he’s going to fuck you at least once a day, but sometimes he understands that he can’t always fuck you. He thinks about you a lot and he’s often fantasizing about when he’s going to fuck you next.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes he is out like a light just right after sex, so he does tend to expend a lot of energy and tire himself out. He’ll always make sure you are comfortable before he falls asleep.

#writing #reader requested #anon requested #yamcha #yamcha x you #yamcha x reader #yamcha x y/n #yamcha headcanons #yamcha smut #yamcha lemon #dragon ball #dragon ball smut #dragon ball headcanons #dragon ball z headcanons #dragon ball z #dragon ball z lemon

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that-blue-vault-dweller · 4 years ago

Note

That was depressing. :'( Maybe a fixer-upper? Companions react to Sole coming back? Maybe they apologize to their friends and wanna try again?

Here is some healing and a peace offering for you guys 💙💛 After that last post, I think we all needed it, lol. I hope you enjoy!

Cait - Hardly believes her eyes when F!Sole comes heading down the stairs of the Third Rail. She almost thinks that it's some twist of cruel fate and F!Sole is just back to yell at her and kick her more for something that she already berates and destroys herself for every day. But when F!Sole softly cups the side of her face, questioning softly and heartbrokenly about what had happened to Cait, the redhead launches herself out of her stupor and snatches F!Sole in one of those infamous bone-crushing hugs that she's so well-known for. Even though she is drunk off of her rear end, she knows that this is real. It feels, smells, and sounds too much like F!Sole not to be. She is blubbering all manners of apologies and explanations and anything she can think of to make F!Sole stay. It takes her a considerable amount of time to realize that F!Sole has guided them both to the back room on a couch and is carefully yet firmly explaining that Cait has nothing to be sorry for and that it is entirely F!Sole's own fault. For a while after that, she takes deep, shaking breaths as she just squeezes the woman as tightly as she can in an attempt to assure herself that she's still there with her. Eventually she falls asleep against F!Sole, finding herself the most comfortable she has been in days.

Piper - Almost can't believe the sight before her. When she answers the door, she most certainly did not expect to come face to face with the last person who wanted to see her. There was a deep regret and sadness shining in F!Sole's eyes, but before she could speak, Piper had launched herself onto her, clinging tightly and whispering constant apologies amidst lots of tears. When F!Sole wraps her arms around her, replying in that smooth, calming tone that all was forgiven and not to worry and that she should be the one apologizing instead, Piper only cries harder. She squeezes the life out of her Blue, vowing never to let her go again. In fact, she drags her into her house and forces her to just sit on the couch with her for a long time and they just hold each other until Piper calms down enough to talk.

Curie - When she sees F!Sole, she feels her heart clench and she almost cannot even move as she completely collapses into tears, and F!Sole has to head over to her and hold the poor, sniveling girl in her arms as she just cries it all out, pitifully sobbing about how sorry she is for whatever she said or did, and F!Sole just whispers comforting words, apologizing for breaking her promise and leaving Curie all alone in the world. Curie eventually gets ahold of herself well enough to control her arms again and wrap them around F!Sole's waist tightly. She is so, so thankful to have Madame back with her again, and she already feels so much safer and happier. F!Sole is crying a little, too, and Curie feels her heart squeezing again as she readjusts and holds on even tighter.

MacCready - Almost falls off of his chair when he sees her approach his house in the Capital Wasteland. She is standing there with a group of Minutemen behind her who obviously helped escort her there. She tells them something and they all take a moment to have a break. She then heads over to MacCready. He takes a look around, seeing that Duncan is playing in the yard at a safe enough distance away for the two of them to talk privately. As soon as she has stepped up on his front porch, he stands up and apologizes to her somewhat awkwardly. F!Sole explains that she is sorry instead and they spend a lot of time discussing things. He eventually introduces her to Duncan and they begin to make plans to head back to the Commonwealth together. Only two days later, they head home with Duncan in tow.

Deacon - Is very, very surprised when she approaches him when he is undercover spying on her. Those kind eyes are filled with love and care, and he is honestly not sure whether he is slightly skeptical or if he is just endlessly grateful for the fact that she is not yelling and angry still. She sits next to him and he tries to keep up the act in whatever role he has taken up. That is, until she snatches off the phony wig or hat and the sunglasses, dropping them on his lap as she looks into his eyes. He sighs deeply and apologizes for acting the way he did and upsetting her so horribly. She shakes her head, expressing that he is not the one that needs to apologize. In the end, she hugs him tightly, despite his uncomfortableness, but this time, it actually feels a lot nicer than usual. If it means she's back and won't leave again, he can suffer through as many hugs as he has to.

Codsworth - As he lives and breathes, he cannot believe that he is actually looking at F!Sole. He wastes no time in hovering over to her as fast as he can. She gently places her hands on his metal sides and steadies him as he begins to stumble over himself as quickly as he can, apologizing for his awful behavior. She just shakes her head, looking into one of his eyes and explaining that she was the one with the awful behavior. She wastes no time in hugging him the best she can considering all of his many appendages. He happily sighs and pats her back gently with a pincer. He is so relieved to have his mistress back and to finally have the one person that cares about him back into his life.

Hancock - Thinks he must be on either the best or worst trip of his life as F!Sole walks in through the door of his office, those beautiful eyes staring him down with none of the fire that they held in them when he last saw her. He raises up a bit from his place on the couch, but she comes to him, taking a hand and sweeping away all of the remainders of jet, psycho, whatever other chems he has been stuffing himself with. He immediately feels a great amount of guilt about not only the situation between them but also the fact that he has so unashamedly let himself fall apart like this. F!Sole, however, does not judge, and she simply starts to apologize for getting mad and leaving. He shakes his head and tries to apologize instead, but she stops him, insisting that it is she who should be sorry. After a moment of looking at her, he opens his arms and she happily falls into them, hugging him tightly. He just holds her for a long time, and they wait for his most recent high to disappear so he can truly converse with her for the first time in what feels like forever.

Danse - Is completely shocked when he hears her voice behind him. He carefully stands up, staring at her and he swallows hard, looking down at the ground and anywhere but her face. She comes closer to him, and he apologizes to her quickly. She shakes her head and negates his apology instead uttering her own as she stands just before him, trying to catch his gaze. Finally, she gently touches his chin and he immediately looks into her eyes. She stares at him for a long time, and he knows that she sees all of his pain, guilt, and sadness. He is not even trying to hide them at this point. However, she just shakes her head after a moment and embraces him carefully. He freezes for only a moment before slouching down to her level, allowing her to hold some of his weight as he presses his forehead to her shoulder. He just breathes her in carefully as she gently runs her fingers through his hair and reassures him quietly. He soon realizes that he is crying as a few tears slide down his cheeks silently. He just hugs her gently yet firmly, and they stand there for a long time, just hugging it out as she whispers how much he means to her and refills him with his lost sense of self-worth.

Preston - Is so thankful and shocked to see her that he almost does not know what to do. However, he quickly makes his way over to her as Minutemen are greeting their true general. He asks her if they can speak somewhere more privately. When they are alone, he proceeds to apologize for his actions and explain how inexcusable they were and how he should not have ever done it. She places a hand on his, and shakes her head, explaining how she is truly at fault. He just sighs and shakes his head before hugging her carefully. When he finally pulls away, he removes the general hat he has started wearing and he offers it to her, asking if she will be the general of the Minutemen once again. When she agrees, he feels all of the weight lifting from his chest and he feels happier than he has in weeks.

Valentine - Is just sitting in his agency when she walks through the door. As soon as she does, he drops his pen, looking at her as if she had sprouted two extra heads. She quietly asks if the seat in front of him is taken, and he gestures to it easily, encouraging her to sit. Ellie wastes no time in excusing herself to allow them to speak. After a few beats of silence, they both start to apologize at the same time. They both chuckle at that, and F!Sole explains how she is the one in the wrong. He shakes his head wordlessly, knowing the truth, and she reaches across the table, taking his hands and squeezing them before standing up and heading over to hug him. He feels all of the pieces mending themselves as he holds her in his arms, just enjoying her closeness. He will never mess this up again.

X6-88 - Is exceedingly surprised to see her as she teleports into the Institute just before he reports his failure to maintain her trust. She greets him somewhat breathlessly and apologizes to him before he has a chance to express his own regret. He blinks and stares at her before proceeding to apologize anyway despite her protests. She gently places her hands on his shoulders, and he felt something strange bubble in his stomach as she looked at him with such affection and kindness. He found that he liked this feeling much better than the one he got while thinking of that same face contorted with anger.

Dogmeat - Raises his head up, looking at the sunrise. He looks a bit harder, staring intently since he is sure he saw something moving on the horizon. Sure enough, he starts to make out the form of a person running. His ears perk up and he sniffs the air. Before she even gets to him, he smells that comforting scent. He wiggles a bit in place, but he is scared to hope. What if she gets mad at him again and yells at him some more? However, when she finally reaches the truck stop, she pauses, looking at him carefully. He wags his tail reluctantly but hopefully, not coming to her just yet. After a moment, she hesitantly and carefully approaches him, holding out her hand gently. He wants to sniff it and lick it so badly, but he waits. He does not shy away from it, though, when it gently meets the side of his head. After only a moment, she is stroking him with both hands and crying for some reason, saying the same two words over and over. She does not smell angry, and he actually smells shame and love coming off of her in waves. So he happily forgives his favorite person in the world, licking her tears away and snuggling into her grasp as he always did before.

Strong - As soon as he sees her, he starts to try to attack. However, she quickly raises her arms up in a placating gesture and apologizes repeatedly, trying to get him to listen. He pauses, but he is still angry. He finally decides not to smash her. However, he does not forgive her until she hands him a specially-modified board with razor wire, barbed wire, and nails coating the end. He then begrudgingly forgives her, and it does not take him long to return to his usual self around her.

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actualbird · 3 years ago

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Polyam NXX where they all fuck the depressing thoughts out of Luke? Marius fucking his ass, Artem riding his dick, Rosa riding his face, and Vyn kissing and caressing him all over, all at the same time.

n/s//f///w text in response (and also in the ask itself kjdsbfj) and oh god again why is this response so long, it is 1k words

HHGRHRGRGHR ANON....this caters to so many things i love so much, 1) luke being fucked to the high heavens, 2) LUKE TERRIBLY DEPPRESSING THOUGHTS ON HIMSELF, 3) nxx investigation polycule <3!!!

i can sense that this ask wants me to focus on the smut aspect of this and i will get to that but first i wanna talk about like. man, luke, in his relationship with the other four, would have his self doubt and self loathing magnified fourfold than if he was just with one person, i think.

he'd think terrible things like how hes dragging so many people down, how hes a greedy person, letting his life touch so many people's lives and fill their lives with sadness and worry. the other four know that luke has thoughts like this, and they all do their part in reassuring and comforting him and being there for him when hes put himself in a dark place. and it helps. it really, really helps to have people who love you, even the sad parts. but relationships also dont "fix" a person, they cant just magically get rid of doubts and insecurities. nobody in the group is under the impression that love is going to "fix" the sadness luke has, but thats not going to stop them from loving him anyway. luke is grateful, luke pours his love out to them back times a hundred...

but deep in his heart, theres a cruel voice that sounds like his own telling him it's never going to be enough, what he gives. that nothing he will do will ever make up for the fact that he's him.

still, after a while of dating the others, after a while of being steadily encouraged little by little to reach out when he needs help and comfort, luke hazards a chance to ask one day. for the first time ever.

i can imagine the scene something like this:

the whole team managing to find a space in their busy schedules to meet up together outside of nxx business. theyre at mc's apartment maybe. artem is cooking dinner while marius commentates the cooking from where he's seated at the dining nook, "when onions hit the pan, the panties hit the FLOOR." and artem throws a dishtowel at marius' face fondly. softly, music plays from some speakers hooked up to somebody's tablet, some calm old song. vyn and mc are being horrendously romantic, idly dancing to the music and laughing when marius squawks at artem's dishtowel attack. and luke sits on the couch, looking at all of them, feeling such a burst of light from his heart. these are his partners, silly and loving and wonderful, and he wants to give them all the love he has in his heart.

but the thing about luke is that his happiness has always been annotated with doubt. in the footnotes of all his joys is the dark voice inside of him, the voice that sounds like his own, telling him he doesnt deserve this.

but he can see them though. he can see how brightly they all shine, how they always coax him to stand in the light. so after dinner has been eaten (it's delicious, obviously, artem wing homecook masterchef), after the movie they picked out has been watched (it was marius' turn to pick the movie and he picked something stupidly trashy yet raucously enjoyable to watch with others), after they start retiring to go bed together (GOD, im assuming they all get like, bigger beds sjkdbfkjd, marius is the wallet of this polycule, it's fine, he'll cover it), after all that, luke asks.

he asks for help. he trembles ever so slightly as he does it, looking away, and the rest of them can see that him doing this is something agonizing for him. that admitting that hes hurting and asking for comfort is something that seems to pain him, not because he doesnt like them and the love they give, but because he doesnt like himself, because he doesnt see himself as worthy to receive that love.

"i--i dont know what im asking for, actually," luke lets out a self deprecating laugh as he starts to backpedal back into the shadows, overwhelmed by how in this moment, theyre seeing him. theyre seeing the messy part of him he hates so, so much. "sorry, you know me. my head gets like this. sorry. i'll get over--"

hes stopped before he can continue that sentence. mc is the first one to hold his face gently, to coax him to look at her, and in her gaze isnt the disgust luke was expecting. it's something open and beautiful, and when luke looks at everybody else, the same thing is clear in their eyes.

they see this part of him he hates so much and they dont turn him away like he does with himself. they accept him and their kindness starts to wash over the shores of luke's heart.

i like to think they didnt actually plan to have hot group sex focused on fucking the depressing thoughts of luke pearce. it goes more like... mc kisses luke all gentle and sweet and then marius goes to hug luke from behind and he starts praising luke in a teasing way that makes luke laugh softly against mc's lips. when mc pulls away (and she pulls away with a smile), artem is the one who kisses luke next, passionate and devoted and vyn joins in on the "praise luke pearce" agenda, whispering sweet nothings to luke as luke starts to tremble once more, not in hatred or fear this time though, but in how overwhelmed he is. eventually the reassuring kisses and touches start to get a little bit heated because come on, luke is being held and touched by four beautiful people, it's hard to NOT get hard when that happens, and the rest are also easy to get worked up when theyre all together and close and intimate like this.

SO YEAH, they get to fucking!!!! very focused on luke because the other four reach this unspoken agreement to like, make luke feel so good that his mind can go blank tonight. that he can just let go and let them take care of him.

and take care of him they DOOOOOO. in between moaning against mc's cunt, shaking from sensations of fucking artem and being fucked marius, his body relentlessly touched by vyn, all his lovers taking pleasure from luke and giving pleasure back, luke loses himself. he lets go.

the voice in his mind does not quiet so much as be spoken over by the loving voices of his lovers.

his body submits to their actions. his mind fills with their words. and his heart?

he gives that to them to take care of.

#tears of themis #luke pearce #vyn richter #artem wing #marius von hagen

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izaswritings · 3 years ago

Text

Title: who we are in the aftermath

Fandom: The Owl House

Synopsis: Belos falls and the Golden Guard survives. It’s a new world and a new day, and sooner or later Hunter has to figure out where he fits in it.

Or: in which Hunter stays at the Owl House, becomes a (very, very reluctant) apprentice, continues to have accidental sibling shenanigans with the annoying human, and finally finds a place where he belongs. Probably.

AO3 link is here.

[Next chapter is here!]

chapter one: battling birds

They give him a room near the east side of the house, stuffed full of broken things and a miscellaneous number of random items. It’s not the human’s old room, and not Lilith’s, either—there’s too much dust and too much stuff for either option. Hunter can’t tell if he’s grateful for this or not. He’s still deciding on whether he’s grateful for the room at all.

There’s no time to set up a bed. He spends his first night here on a blanket, restless and half-awake and lying so still he’s half-convinced he’s shaking from the strain of not moving at all, not making a single sound. He can practically taste the dust on every inhale—does the Owl Lady ever clean, Titan help him—and by some godawful midnight hour Hunter gives up on sleep entirely and sits up, carefully, to whisper to his palisman.

Nothing important. None of the real questions that are swirling around in his head, like what am I even doing here and why am I still here and what am I supposed to do now, do you know? Instead he just says nonsense things, useless things, like “If I shine a flashlight in that little demon’s face do you think I could get him to chase the dot?”

The palisman coos and chirps and sings nonsense back. Red is a pretty color. I like tulips. If we iced over the Boiling Sea could we make human rain?

“None of those answers make sense,” Hunter tells it, and then writes a small note about the sea and rain connection on the dusty floor, if only because that’s actually kind of interesting and he wants to check it out again later.

Red tulips are tasty, replies the palisman, and nuzzles his fingers when he goes to pet it. Its feathers are soft and its eyes are luminous in the moonlight. Nonsense, all of it, but the nonsense helps—familiar as a friend, safe and easy. Better than thinking of Belos. Better than wondering what he’s doing here, sleeping on the floor in the Owl Lady’s house.

The human has left. He could walk out right now and she’d never know, not that her disappointment has any bearing on if he chooses to stay or go. She’s vanished back to the human world, probably gone forever. This house means nothing to Hunter—the Owl Lady is annoying and dislikes him about as much as Hunter dislikes her, and as endearing as the weird little demon is, that isn’t enough to make Hunter want to stay.

He could leave easily. He could go anywhere. He has nowhere to go.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hunter tells the palisman, at last, hours later. It is almost morning. The sunrise has only just begun, the peace of this dusty attic room wavering thin and fragile in the light of early dawn. It is a quiet admission. He says it very soft. “I don’t know if I know anything.”

I love you, says the palisman.

“That’s not an answer either.”

Oh, well.

Twenty minutes later, the Owl Lady’s weird bird-worm security creature bursts through the window and sings good morning loud enough to shatter eardrums. Hunter grabs his staff, throws a blast at the thing on instinct, teleports to the kitchen in a panic, and smacks the Owl Lady in the face with his palisman first thing in the morning.

The easy explanation is this: the castle falls and Belos dies and the Golden Guard somehow survives it all: portal collapse and half-realm merge and everything, which means when the dust settles, ultimately Hunter is left with absolutely no idea of what to do with himself.

“You should work with Eda!” says the human, in the aftermath. Given she says this in the ruin of what was once the Emperor’s castle, barely a half hour after—everything—Hunter feels pretty justified in his response. Which is to say he strangles his broken mechanical staff in his hands, takes a deep breath, and says in a very tight voice: “No.”

“But—!”

“No. No, no, no. I can’t even believe I did this, I don’t… it’s not happening. No.”

The human—he does actually know her name by now, after all they’ve been through, but also given all of This Nonsense she has lost name privileges—does not take that well. Of course she doesn’t. She’s so fourteen it makes Hunter want to die inside.

“Why not?” the human says, petulant. She has her hands on her hips and everything.

Hunter is kneeling in the rubble of a castle he’s called home for almost all his life. Somewhere down there is the throne where Belos used to sit; somewhere down there is a body. It’s not a surprise, really. It’s not a shock. From the moment the palisman fluttered into his life and Hunter let it stay, he always knew, deep down, that one day he was going to have to choose.

It does not make breathing any easier. “I don’t want to,” he says.

“You can learn wild magic! And, and glyphs! Eda knows a lot—”

“Does the Owl Lady know you’re offering up her house to an old enemy?”

“Eda won’t mind. Well, okay, maybe she’ll mind a little, but— she’ll let you stay if I ask her!” Yeah. The Owl Lady probably would. The human has that witch wrapped around her little finger; Hunter almost snorts. “Please, just hear me out. I’m sure we can—”

“No.”

“Hunter…”

“Don’t talk like we’re friends,” Hunter hisses. He drops the broken remains of the mechanical staff and stands, his hands curled to fists. “Don’t talk like you know me. You don’t know anything. You don’t—” He can’t breathe. He drops back to his knees in the rubble and rubs a hand over his eyes. “Just stop. Please.”

The human doesn’t say anything for a long time. On his shoulder, the palisman, thus far staying silent, flutters its wings and hops down to his knee, nudging his hand with its beak. It sings nothing. Just stays there.

After a moment, the human kneels next to him. There is blood on her face and dirt staining her leggings. “I know,” she says, and she suddenly sounds very tired. “I’m sorry.”

Hunter doesn’t say anything.

“I just—” the human starts, and then she stops. “I don’t know how else to help you.”

She looks small and weirdly sad, which makes no sense at all, because she hated Belos and never really understood why Hunter did not. (Hunter is not sure why either. If that is still something he can say. If you can betray your uncle and fight against your uncle and—and— and do these things, do everything Hunter has done, and still say that this feeling isn’t hatred.)

They aren’t friends, Hunter and the human. They have barely been allies. He doesn’t need her help, and she probably knows that as well as he does. But Hunter looks at her then, and despite the rubble and the ash and the blood on his tongue, for some reason instead of digging himself a makeshift grave he says—

“…Okay.”

Which still doesn’t really explain anything, but then, that’s just how it goes.

“Okay!” says the Owl Lady, smacking down her second cup of apple blood on the table. She does it too hard—a good splash of blood escapes the confines of the cup and adds yet another stain to her already-stained dining table. Hunter raises an eyebrow. The Owl Lady glares back. “House rules.”

There’s a red mark on her cheek, still, from where Hunter had hit her with his staff, and a stain all down her side from when, upon being hit with the staff, the Owl Lady spluttered and cursed and accidentally spilt the first cup of apple blood all over herself and the floor. She looks… barely awake.

“House rules,” Hunter echoes, dryly.

“Your scorn is noted and not appreciated.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” His palisman pecks his hand lightly. “Ow.”

“Luz, you owe me one,” mutters the Owl Lady, and takes a really deep drink of her apple blood. Hunter rubs at his hand, peeved, and eyes the palisman in case it gets any more hand-pecking ideas. The palisman blinks innocently back. Hmm.

“So. First of all.” The Owl Lady raises a finger. “Break any of my stuff and I end you.”

So just like the castle, then. Hunter sees where this is going. He settles gingerly back against the chair—why, why is all of her furniture stained—and rests his cheek against one fist, already bored. “Noted.”

The Owl Lady puts up a second finger. There’s a long silence.

“…Seriously?” says Hunter.

“Quiet, you.” She snaps her fingers. “Hah! Got one! Hurt King or Luz or Hooty or anyone I like in any way and I’ll destroy you. Yeah, that works.”

Hunter gets the sneaking suspicion these house rules are being made up on the spot, and are also only for him. He knows better than to say that aloud. “Fine.” Wait. “How am I supposed to know which random people you like or dislike?”

The Owl Lady grins. Her gold fang glints. “That sounds like a you problem, don’t you think?” She cackles a little. “Guess you’ll just have to find out! Or, you know. Maybe don’t attack anyone? That’s a start.”

Her owl palisman coos a little. Her nose wrinkles. “What? What do you mean that’s hypocritical? Stay out of this, Owlbert, I’m teaching life lessons or something.” Her eyes turn to him. “Anyway. You get the gist.”

Hunter’s hand is curled white-knuckled around his knee. His palisman flutters from the table to his shoulder, singing nonsense again. Red tulips, so tasty. Its feathers brush against his cheek.

He pries his grip off his knee one finger at a time. “…Understood.”

“Good.” The Owl Lady stands and stretches, yawning wide into one hand. “Anyway, I’ll give you a pass for this morning, because Hooty can be…” She trails off. Outside, muffled by the front door, the bird-worm creature shouts “HOOT” at full volume and then smacks into a tree.

“…a lot,” decides the Owl Lady. “But seriously, keep the windows locked. I don’t want you trying to blast him and burning my house down. I just got it back.”

Hunter says nothing. The Owl Lady squints at him and then picks her mug back up. “Riiiight… well, good talk, I guess. Get some more sleep, kid, you look worse than Luz after an all-nighter.” She waits. Hunter raises an eyebrow at her. “Ugh. I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

At least Hunter isn’t the only one second-guessing everything. Still, that reminds him. “The human.”

“Luz,” says the Owl Lady, unimpressed.

“Yeah, whatever.” He links his fingers. The palisman flies down from his shoulder to his cupped hands, and hops a determined circle in his palm for no apparent reason. Hunter watches it play. “…Is she coming back?”

“What, tired of our company already?”

“Yes,” Hunter says, because obviously.

“Rude. Well, can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.” There’s a long silence. The Owl Lady sighs. “Luz… she promised she’d come back. You were there, weren’t you?”

Yeah, he had been. Standing in the back of the group, on the fringes of the goodbye. Two hours after the end, and the human had already roped the Owl Lady into letting Hunter live in her stupid owl house, and also somehow run around hugging pretty much everyone. And then she’d stepped through the mirrors that were all that remained of the realm-merge between her world and theirs, and not come back since.

She had, indeed, promised to return. But that was hours ago; that was yesterday. The mirrors are gone and no doors remain. And Hunter does not put much faith in promises.

“And when,” he asks the Owl Lady, a little lofty, a little snide. “When, exactly, do you think she’s coming back?”

The Owl Lady’s eyes narrow. Her lips press thin. For a moment he thinks she might snap at him, but then her shoulders slump, and in the end she just looks away.

“I don’t know,” the Owl Lady admits.

Useless, Hunter thinks. But he doesn’t say it. Just nods and turns away to head back upstairs and make that stupid dusty storage room somewhat presentable, because if he’s going to be staying here for—for—for whatever amount of time he ends up staying here, he’s going to breathe actual air instead of dust, thanks.

“Remember, kid! House rules!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter says, and teleports back up the stairs without a single glance back.

Hunter manages to shove all the junk into one corner and make the start of a fairly presentable bed in the other corner by the time the human re-arrives in the Boiling Isles and throws open his door hard enough to smack it against the wall.

“You took my advice!” shouts the human, at the top of her lungs.

“Hiiiiii,” says Hunter, hands over his ears. The human takes a deep breath. Hunter closes the door in her face. “Byeeee.”

“Hey!”

“Why are you yelling.”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

It’s just nonsensical enough to get him to open the door. Why does this always happen to him? Why is the human like this? “You said I should come here! You said—”

“Psh,” says the human and flaps a hand in his face. Hunter stops mid-word, gritting his teeth, practically feeling his whole face turn bright red with rage. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way! I just— I didn’t think you would actually listen! But you’re here!” She’s beaming. Hunter looks away. Her smile fades. “…Are you okay?”

He can’t sleep. His eyes are hot and burning like he wants to cry and he has no idea why. His uncle is dead.

“No,” he tells her. “No one in this house dusts. I’ve forgotten what air tastes like.”

“Psh-haw! I’m sure it's not that…” The human steps inside, inhales, and chokes. “Oh. Ay Dios mío. Wow, this room has not been dusted.”

“I noticed!”

“Oh, man.” She hides her nose in her elbow and sidles outside again. She’s wearing her weird human clothes and her palisman staff strapped to her back. She looks tired, and a little like she has no idea what she’s doing here either. She lingers in the door almost awkwardly, rolling back and forth from her heels to her toes.

Hunter watches her for a long moment. “You came back.”

“Haha. What gave it away?” But the smile she gives is small and blinding, brighter than the sun. “Watch this.”

“Watch wha—” The human lifts her hand and trails it through the air, dragging her fingers down in a straight line. Golden light follows her fingers. It breaks the air like a fractured mirror, a rift sparking to life in the hallway, the dark greens and blues of a galaxy intertwined with a burning glow. Hunter’s voice dies in his throat.

“If I push at it, it opens. Like a door. It leads me right home.” She’s smiling so wide it must hurt. The portal almost seems to whisper; the golden glow of the rift shines in her eyes and catches on her face, still tear-streaked. The human’s cried over this. She’s right to. The human world and the Boiling Isles—she has found a way to keep both.

Presumably he thinks he should be jealous. Instead he finds himself smiling too. “I’m glad,” Hunter tells her. “That’s… pretty cool.”

“Right!?” She bounces on her heels and waves a hand through the rift, dismissing it into nothing. “I can’t wait to show Amity. And Eda. And King. And you! The human world is—it’s amazing. The rain doesn’t kill you even a little bit!”

It takes sudden effort to keep up the smile. “…I’ve heard.”

“Anyway, I just came by to say hi. Eda said you were here, and—” She stops, visibly hesitating. Her head lowers. “I know… I know this must be hard. And that we aren’t really friends. But… if you need anyone to talk to… I’m here.” She peeks up her head a little, grinning. “After all, we’re house buddies now!”

“Human,” Hunter says. Her nose wrinkles. He sighs. “Luz.”

“Yeah?”

There’s so much he could say that for a moment he has no idea where to start. Why did you think this was a good idea. Please stop talking. Why are you so insistent that we could be friends. I didn’t say I was staying here for long. I’m very tired. You’re bizarrely forgiving. My uncle is dead because of you.

“…Thanks,” he says. “And— I’m sorry.”

Luz blinks at him. Then she grins. “Noooo problem, ol’ buddy ol’ pal!”

Hunter shoves her stupid smiling face away and closes the door on her toes. Luz yelps and swears and kicks at the door, and yells rude things in that other human language of hers. “Byeeeee,” Hunter says, and behind the closed door, Luz makes a muffled noise of rage and shouts, “Would you stop saying that!?”

And it doesn’t make things better but it doesn’t make things any worse, either, and when Hunter turns away he is almost smiling—so maybe it’s okay.

The sun sets. The dusty room has been aired out to its best ability, and Hunter has made a somewhat functional and comfy-looking bed in the corner. A sticky note with the boiling sea + ice = human rain idea has been ceremoniously pinned to the empty wall space. In addition to the sticky notes, Luz has donated his “sad, bad boy room” what looks to be a dying houseplant. Hunter suspects she gave it to him purely because she has despaired of trying to keep it alive herself.

He puts the plant on the windowsill. The palisman apparently loves it. Maybe he should find red tulips for it to eat. Whatever a red tulip is.

He settles next to the palisman on the windowsill, and strokes its head with his finger. He feels strangled and small and the sunset looks alien to him. Everything has changed. Everything is over. He is a powerless witch with a wild magic staff, and he will never be the Golden Guard again.

His eyes burn. He blinks fast. Far down below, he can hear the Owl Lady and Luz arguing over dinner.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing here,” Hunter tells the palisman. The sunset makes all the trees look shadow-like and sharp, outlined in red. It reminds him of his palisman, a little bit. “I don’t even like these people. What do you think? Is it too late to head back and dig myself a grave in the rubble?”

I’m happy I know you, chirps the palisman. It hops from the dying houseplant to the top of his head. I love you, I love you.

His throat feels tight. “…That still isn’t a real answer.”

I want apple blood for breakfast tomorrow. The palisman nibbles at his hair. It looks tasty.

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he closes his eyes. “Okay. If— if you say so.”

The sun is setting, and the light is warm on his face. The Boiling Isles feels, for once, almost something like peaceful. It probably won’t last.

“We’ll stay.”

#toh #the owl house #owl house #toh hunter #toh golden guard #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #hunter owl house #owl house fic #toh fic #fic: who we are in the aftermath #fic update

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