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tachiharastanacc · 4 months ago

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“Traitor! I’ll never forgive you for this!”

He could hardly believe that he was the one speaking the words, spitting them at the people he considered some of his closest friends. The man he considered a kind of father.

It was him that should be screamed at. That should be cursed out. He was in no place to accuse anyone of anything.

And yet.

“I trusted you! How could you do this to me?!”

The traitorous old bastard in question didn’t move, staring at him with a pitied gaze.

“Michizou-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me!”

“Can we wrap this up? I have an appointment to annoy Kunikida after this, and I can’t miss it.”

And then there was the damn detective. A far cry from the Port Mafia executive that he used to hear reports about, the obnoxious fucker had walked up behind him and cheerily cuffed their hands together.

If Tachihara hadn’t grown up around Jouno, he might’ve been impressed.

“Tachihara, it’s not that we want to hurt you or anything…”

Higuchi, in her ever-sensitive state was standing behind Hirotsu, holding onto the arm of a mildly annoyed Akutagawa. At least, that was how he wanted to come off.

Tachihara could practically smell the disappointment coming off him in waves.

“No. You just wanna get rid of me! This is revenge for betraying you!”

He considered lunging at them, but he doubted they’d fall for the bluff. And at the end of the day, he knew he wouldn’t actually hurt them.

Plus, he was dragging around about 67kg of dead weight.

“We don’t want to get rid of you. You know that.”

Hirtosu continued speaking in that same antagonizing tone of voice. As if Tachihara were some cornered animal he were trying to soothe. Or worse, a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“Do I?! Cuz you’re the ones who fucking ambushed me!”

It was supposed to be a simple picnic. That was all he wanted. The only request he’d made.

‘Before I die, I wanna do something. As a family.’

It’d been an embarrassing thought. And even more embarrassing to say. But after everything that had happened, spending his last two days with the them seemed like bliss.

“Tachihara.”

Gin’s voice was soft as always. Gentle in ways that the others couldn’t even fathom being. He’d refused to look at her, and he wasn’t planning on starting now. She of all people should know how he felt.

It was her that he’d told first.

‘Yeah. The Hunting Dogs are fucked like that. But hey, I wouldn’t trade this for the world. I’d rather die in a couple days than spend a life away from all of you.’

Gin hadn’t said anything at first. Just quietly ran her fingers through his hair as he talked.

The next day, the boss called him up.

He’d essentially taken one glance at the shadowed corner of his office and vehemently declared it was Tachihara’s choice and he wasn’t going to get involved.

Tachihara, meanwhile, had made his position very clear when he’d pulled a sword on his own commander.

And yet.

“Fool. To think you’d throw away your future for a bunch of lowlives.”

Tachihara gracefully didn’t mention the fact that Akutagawa had done the same thing for a man he claimed to hate not even a month prior.

“You’re one to fucking say shit! You spent years pining after praise from a man who tries to kill himself every other day.”

He turned to the bandaged man essentially holding hands with him.

“No offense.”

“None taken! Though, if you wanted to commit a double suicide, all you had to do was ask~”

“Is that some kinda joke to you?! My brother killed himself ya know! It’s not fucking funny!”

He paused.

“And I ain’t suicidal either!”

“Maybe not, but you don’t really value your own life~”

“Keep talking to me like that and I’ll grant your last wish and end you myself!”

“Enough. Both of you.”

Hirtosu, as always, was the voice of reason.

It was frustrating though, having the old man treat them like squabbling children. Even if they were. In a way.

And even if Dazai was right. In a way.

“It’s not…that I dislike bein’ alive or something. I just…”

He was a hunting dog. He’d been trained to always fight for justice. He was a weapon to be wielded. A soldier to be ordered around. A dog sent to catch its prey, no matter the cost of the hunt.

That was who he was. Who he was designed to be.

That was why he had tried to slit his throat without hesitation, if it meant not being turned against the world.

“Tachihara…”

Higuchi was still behind the others, but she took a step forward as she spoke. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. Great.

“Nee-san, I didn’t mean…”

Curse the damn detective. No wonder Chuuya couldn’t stand him.

Thought to be honest, his instincts as a spy told him otherwise.

“That’s not the damn point! The point is that you ignored what I wanted! You lied to me and said we could spend today together! Why is that so hard to understand?! That I wanna spend the day with the…with the only family I got left.”

Higuchi turned away from him, but he could hear the sob she muffled behind her hand. Even Hirtosu, usually so calm, so stoic was looking at him with something akin to-

“Don’t ya dare pity me, gramps! I don’t need that! Not from you!”

If nothing else, he didn’t bother denying it. Tachihara had already seen the glint in his eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was about to start crying.

But he’d known the man for years. It wouldn’t make sense. Not for him.

The pity hurt. The fact that they didn’t see this as betraying him. They saw this as saving him. And it may have been the only way to save his life, but…

Images flashed through his mind.

A cheery young girl bragging about her latest successful torture method. One who, despite her constant joy derived from tormenting him, was always by his side. One who he viewed as a little sister.

A master of the blade whose accomplishments were only slightly less impressive than the food combinations he ate on a daily basis. A stoic pillar of support for the others.

A man who teased him, but was always the first to support him. Who could break the toughest of men and then come back and treat him just like a little brother.

The one who’d raised them. Who’d turned them into what they were.

The mafia was his family, but so were they.

And without them…

“I’m not goin’ back! You can’t make me!”

That wasn’t a threat or a challenge or anything. It was just true. Even they couldn’t manage to drag him all the way back to a top-secret military base. Not without abilities. Which they wouldn’t be able to use while Dazai was touching him.

And they all knew that the second he let go, Tachihara would be off like one of his bullets.

“That’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid.”

That voice was one he’d only heard a few times. They’d never been particularly close. More of a distant, mutual respect for one another.

Which made sense, with the two of them being the only successful spies that infiltrated the mafia and survived.

“What? So you’re in on this too?! I guess that’s not shocking, considering your track record,” Tachihara spat.

The black-haired man stepped forward, adjusting his circular glasses.

“That’s enough. It’s time to go home.”

Agent Sakaguchi’s expression was schooled, neutral. Near unreadable, if not for Michizou’s prior knowledge of the man’s training and history.

Despite the faint regret, Tachihara knew better than to reason with him. While the Black Lizard only wanted to help him, Sakaguchi was just doing his job. There was nothing to be said that would persuade him.

“I thought this was my home.”

“The mafia isn’t a home.”

Though his words were harsh, the teenager knew that he was convincing himself more than anyone else. He may have had no loyalty to the Port Mafia anymore, but everyone with connections to his division knew that he took the same day off every year and came back smelling of whisky, curry, and flowers.

It wasn’t hard for a trained spy to connect the dots. Or even an untrained spy, if gossips were to be believed.

Tachihara understood though. He too wished things could’ve been different. But unlike Ango, he really believed he’d found his place.

Dazai threw his arms around him just as the man snapped his fingers. Though his reflexes were far beyond average thanks to the surgeries, even if his were lighter, the exhaustion of his body shutting down and being pushed passed its deadline slowed him down considerably.

He barely had time to react before he felt a sharp prick in his neck.

“Heyyyy Ango~! Do you think this stuff would kill me if I got injected with it?”

The parking lot was spinning, but the excitement in the detective’s voice was loud and clear.

“Absolutely, so don’t even try it. The Hunting Dogs are resistant to most poisons and drugs, so we need an extra strong dose. That’s enough to kill 30 men.”

“Aw, and you didn’t save any for me?”

Jeez, he didn’t have to sound so damn disappointed.

From beyond the haze of blacks and grays, Higuchi’s blonde head approached him.

Tachihara swayed a bit on his feet, allowing the deceptively-strong twig of a man still clinging to him to support his weight fully.

“Nee-san…”

He felt like he was speaking underwater. His limbs felt like jelly.

He’d had surgery over 70 times. He’d been under anesthesia a lot. But this was different. This felt like the world itself was fighting against him, trying to drag him down to hell with the rest of his missing unit.

“Shhh, I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He closed his eyes, nodding slowly as cold hands came to rest upon his cheeks. “You’re not alone. We’re all here with you.”

He was faintly aware of the heavy hand on his shoulder. The stench of cigarettes easily overwhelmed him.

Gross.

“Hey…you should really…take better care of your lungs. You’re already…practically…a fossil.”

He yawned. He was so, so tired all of a sudden.

The old man in question gave him a sad chuckle before patting his head affectionately.

Tachihara may have been a mafioso, but he never was a fan of Gramps smoking. If nothing else, the lecture Jouno would give him when he came back to the base smelling of nicotine was bad enough.

Still, he allowed them to wrap around him.

He couldn’t quite remember why they were so worried, but he knew they were upset.

“Why…ya sound so…sad?”

“Shut up,” Akutagawa’s voice echoed over the ringing in his ears.

Tachihara Michizou was never one to refuse a direct order.

Except…

Ah, it was all too hazy.

“Think ‘m…gonna sleep…now…”

Words continued to be said, but he didn’t process any of them. Even Gin’s soft voice, whispering in his ear.

“I…ve…ou.”

—

Hirtosu didn’t know how long he’d been standing there.

His cigarette tasted bitter in his mouth. The sounds of the engines and Higuchi’s wails had all but faded now.

“It’s a shame.”

He had nothing to say beyond that. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Far from it. It was just that despite his enjoyment of reminiscing, he didn’t want to think about this any more than he had already.

Perhaps once he, Chuuya, and Kajii were all a few beers deep.

The elderly mafioso took another drag of his cigarette.

“I wonder if I’ve made a mistake.”

It wasn’t a question he wanted to reflect on particularly. But his audience wouldn’t show itself until he invited conversation.

“You already know where I stand.”

The executive didn’t bother emerging from the shadows. He didn’t have to. The fact that he’d left his office was tell enough that he was invested.

“…I couldn’t let him die.”

“That doesn’t mean you let him live.”

“I know.”

Another breath. Another cloud of smoke.

“This isn’t over. Things won’t end like this.”

Hirtosu didn’t respond for a moment. Then, with a small smile, he spoke.

“You sound like you’re agreeing to help.”

“No. I’m not. However…I’ll see what information I can find. I have resources.”

As one should expect of perhaps the greatest assassin of all time.

“Why? I’d half expected you to wipe your hands of this.”

“I did too. Those soldiers…they may not be like my brother and I. But we’re the same in some ways.”

The man in the shadows smiled softly.

“Someone once saved me, despite how I betrayed him. He’s the reason I’m still here, though he is not. So, I’ll find what information I can.”

The man turned to leave.

“Perhaps one day, I can make up for everything I’ve done. Right, Arthur?”

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romirola · 11 months ago

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Teaser Tuesday

Hiya, Redacted Fandom! The most wonderful @ejunkiet and @pinksparkl tagged me to share a snippet of a WIP awhile ago, but due to some scheduling difficulties coupled with a surprise power outage, my brother's wedding, and then a rough migraine attack (all one after the other), I had to wait to share something. Thank you for the tag! Because this is so late, I'll say that this is an open invitation for anyone to share a snippet of any kind of WIP.

Below is an excerpt from a oneshot I'm working on written in David's POV. The story chronicles David helping Angel through their mother's recent death, reflecting on the similarities and differences of their experiences losing a parent.

The days since had been a bit of a blur. I helped Angel handle the arrangements and affairs, fighting the flashbacks of how haphazard and confused I had been when I had done the same thing for my father. I wanted to support them as much as I could, though I knew it was important that they feel in control, or at least as in control as possible, when it came to the details of their mother’s final resting place and the way they marked the end of her life. The whole ordeal echoed my father’s death, but at the same time, it was so different. I knew what it was to grieve a parent’s death. I had no idea what it was like to watch a parent die. I was too young to ever remember my father taking care of my mother when she had gotten sick. My dad must’ve done all of this, though. And he did it all while taking care of an infant son, too. As I thought back on the memories of Mom he shared with me over the years, I realized none of them took place during the time of her illness. I wish I had thought to ask him about how he handled that whole experience. Had it made him too sad to talk about with me? Or was he sparing me the details of the truth? Dad always tried to shield me from darkness and to find the light in everything. I wished he were here now. He’d know what to say to Angel. I didn’t. Not for the first time since learning of Angel’s caretaking, I wondered what it might’ve been like to see my dad decline from old age. To see him lose his sense of self to dementia and frailty. I imagined how my dad might’ve morphed from the strong, solid alpha I’d always known him to be into a weak, confused old man. I would watch helplessly as he aged, note how both his wolf and human form would betray him. Would I have had it in me to learn how to help him shower and shave? Would I have been able to balance my responsibility to the pack with my responsibility of counting out my father’s pills for the week? Would I have patiently endured my father screaming awful things at me, simply because he was confused and frustrated and unable to express himself any other way? Would I have had the strength to tell my father that it was okay to die? I hoped so, but I supposed I’d never really know for sure. Angel did all of those things for their mom. And more.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fanfiction #redacted davey #david shaw #redacted david #redacted angel

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nephalem-da · 1 month ago

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Celestial Bonds

Chapter 2: The Eternal Glow Gala

(Bill Cipher x OC)

Synopsis: Maeloraelis is flooded with prom invitations, but Bill insists on being her date. Together, they attend the event, where Bill is determined to make them prom royalty.

Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter.

Maeloraelis was no stranger to admiration. Throughout her time at Euclydia Academy, she had grown used to the attention her radiant form attracted. But while others might have sought such attention, Mae wasn’t one for the limelight. She preferred the quiet of her own space, the comfort of home, and the company of someone who understood her without the need for words—Bill.

The weeks leading up to the school’s annual Eternal Glow Gala, the academy’s version of a prom, were filled with excitement. Students were bustling around in anticipation, making arrangements for dates, gowns, and grand entrances. Mae, however, wasn’t caught up in the fervor. As much as she enjoyed being around others, the idea of attending the Gala with someone from her school didn’t excite her. She didn’t have any close friends at Euclydia—only acquaintances who admired her from a distance.

But that didn’t stop the suitors.

Every day, without fail, a new student would approach her, offering to be her date to the Gala. Some brought flowers, others fumbled over their words, and a few attempted grand gestures. It became a running joke between Mae and Bill. After all, to Bill, the whole idea of a Gala was absurd—a waste of time where students pretended that a single night of dancing and dresses could somehow matter in the grand scheme of the universe.

It was one of those quiet afternoons when the two of them were hanging out in Mae’s home. She shared the place with her parents, Noctopher and Solene. The house was cozy and filled with warmth, the kind of place Bill secretly enjoyed being in, even if he’d never admit it.

“Another one?” Bill grumbled, looking out the window with an annoyed twitch of his eye.

Mae blinked, confused, then heard it—the sound of a violin playing softly outside her home, accompanied by a voice singing. She sighed, setting down the book she was reading.

“What is it this time?” Bill asked, standing up and heading to the window with Mae following behind.

When they looked out, there stood another student from Euclydia Academy, standing under the setting sun, violin in hand, serenading Mae with a song. His eyes were closed, his expression dreamy, as if he was convinced that this grand romantic gesture would win her over.

Bill scowled. “Is this a thing? Does this happen a lot?” He turned to Mae, eyebrow raised, but the twitch in his eye betrayed the annoyance—and jealousy—bubbling beneath the surface.

Mae stifled a laugh. “It’s... their way of asking me to the Gala.”

“The what?” Bill narrowed his eye. He knew of the event but hadn’t paid it any real attention.

“The Eternal Glow Gala. You know, the school’s prom,” Mae explained, her tone casual, but the more she spoke, the more Bill’s irritation grew. “It’s kind of a big deal for students. A way to end the school year before we all move on to our next stages. It’s supposed to be fun, and I guess people think having a date makes it even better.”

“Fun?” Bill snorted. “You think this is fun? This is just—pathetic. He’s out there, embarrassing himself, Mae. And why? For some... dance?”

Mae’s gaze softened. She wasn’t amused by the situation anymore—she could see Bill’s frustration clearly now. “I don’t plan on going with anyone, Bill,” she said gently. “I’m not really close to anyone at school. They’re just acquaintances. It’s not like I have someone special to go with.”

There was a silence between them for a moment. Bill’s mind raced, the gears turning as he considered her words. Someone special? Why shouldn’t I be that someone? the thought crossed his mind before he could stop it. He never cared for these kinds of things. Dances, social gatherings—they were all meaningless in the grander scope of things. But Mae? She made him reconsider a lot of things he normally found beneath him.

He cleared his throat. “So... you’re saying anyone can be a plus-one, huh?”

Mae hesitated. “Technically, yes. But—”

Bill’s expression shifted, his usual mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Great. Then I’m your date.”

Mae blinked, stunned. “Wait... what?”

“You heard me,” Bill said, his grin widening. “If someone’s going to take you to this ridiculous event, it might as well be me.”

As the evening of the Gala arrived, the house was a whirlwind of activity. Scalene and Solene were practically glowing with excitement, fluttering about, making sure everything was perfect for the big night. Noctopher, Mae’s father, a protective figure by nature, hovered near the doorway, arms crossed as he glanced at the clock, making sure Bill didn’t try anything funny.

Bill, meanwhile, was standing in front of a mirror, fiddling with the tie that had been carefully fitted around his triangle form. His usual appearance—a golden triangle with an ever-present mischievous glint in his eye—had been given a slight makeover for the occasion. A sleek black tie hung from his ‘neck,’ and a polished top hat rested upon his triangular head. It was odd, to say the least, seeing him dressed up, but he pulled it off with a strange kind of charm.

“Billy, don’t fidget so much,” Scalene fussed as she adjusted the tie around her son, her eyes misty with pride. “You look so handsome. Just don’t do anything... reckless tonight, alright? Be a gentleman.”

Bill rolled his eye, though there was a faint blush forming. “I know, Ma.”

Solene, Mae’s mother, smiled warmly from the other side of the room. “Oh, they’re going to be the most stunning pair at the Gala. I just know it.”

Noctopher gave Bill a wary look. “Don’t mess this up, kid.”

Bill nodded stiffly, trying his best to ignore the overwhelming attention he was receiving. He wasn’t used to this—feeling flustered, uncertain, even... nervous. He glanced over at the door, wondering when Mae would finally come downstairs.

And then the door opened.

All eyes turned to the top of the staircase, and there she was—Mae, in all her radiant beauty. She wore a flowing dress, soft pink like her form, adorned with delicate gemstones that shimmered with every step she took. It was simple, elegant, and yet it captured the essence of Mae perfectly.

Scalene and Solene gasped, their eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Mae, you look absolutely stunning,” Solene whispered, clasping her hands together.

Noctopher gave a small nod of approval, though there was a glint of moisture in his eyes as well. “My little girl... all grown up.”

And Bill? He stood there, frozen, utterly awestruck. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He had seen Mae a thousand times before, but tonight, she looked... ethereal. It was as if the very stars themselves had come down to walk alongside her.

Mae approached him, her expression gentle as she looked him up and down. “You clean up nicely,” she teased, a playful smile on her face.

Bill stammered for a moment, struggling to find his voice. His father nudged him from behind, breaking his trance. “Uh... thanks. You... you look... wow.”

Mae laughed softly at his flustered response. “Thanks.”

Scalene beamed, rushing over to place a brooch in Bill’s breast pocket and a matching one on Mae’s wrist. “A little something from me,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “To remind you both of tonight.”

Bill, still dazed, gave his mother a soft nod. “Thanks, Ma.”

With their parents snapping pictures and offering their goodbyes, Bill and Mae stepped outside, ready for the night ahead. The Gala awaited them, but Bill already knew one thing for certain: tonight, they were going to be the stars of the show.

And by the end of it, there was no question in anyone’s mind—Bill Cipher and Maeloraelis were crowned Prom King and Queen of the Celestial Radiance Gala.

Bill wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#bill cipher x reader #gravity falls #the book of bill #bill cipher #bill cipher x oc #gravity falls oc #self insert

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ihavemanyhusbands · 2 years ago

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Honey Bun (18+ Series)

(Aaron Hotchner x Stripper!Reader)

Part 2 // MINORS DNI

WC: 2.2k words

Song Inspo: Time - Sevdaliza

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, bit of an age gap (placing reader at around 25-26), cursing, alcohol consumption, formalized sex work (Stripper/Pole Dancer), occasional angst, drama, and that's all I can think of rn but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: Can you hear that? That's me screaming in the distance as I wrote this. PLS ENJOY AAAAA!!!

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

Aaron had been stuck in your head all day. You couldn’t help it, really. Even when you tried to concentrate on other things, your mind would betray you and stray back to him. It was puzzling, but also pretty frustrating.

You thought about him as you got ready backstage — frosty blue eyeshadow that matched your outfit, lips irresistibly glossy, smelling of frangipani and vetiver. Eyes roaming over your reflection, you thought of just how good your name sounded on his lips. How titillating it was that he’d called you Honey, entirely too close to being in on your secret.

For once, flirting had not felt fake or uncomfortable! And not to mention how respectful he was…

You thought of his piercing gaze and the way the low light glinted in his dark eyes. You tried to imagine him in the crowd, standing out among all those anonymous faces watching you on stage now.

An expanse of bare skin aglow in the neon lights; Strong limbs and taught muscles. Bending and swaying and making pretty shapes as you spun on the pole.

How might he look at you then?

You tried — really tried — not to think about that too much as you absently gathered your newly earned riches. Automatically, you went straight backstage to stash it away with all your things.

“You seem distracted, Honey Bunny,” Gia — your closest friend at the Crimson Lounge — commented, adjusting her mesh top in front of the mirror.

You snapped back to attention. “Do I?”

“Yeah, you’ve been a little spacey. Everything okay?” She asked. “All good with Sadie?”

You nodded quickly, forcing yourself not to sigh. Great, you had a silly little crush and suddenly it was like you forgot how to act. You needed to stay sharp, there was no time to be pussyfooting around.

“Yeah, Sadie’s fine. She’s got midterms right now, so she’s been stressed,” you said. “I guess I’m just not in the zone today.”

Sadie was your younger sister, who was living with you while she went to community college. She was one of the main reasons you worked two jobs.

After your mother passed away and your father remarried and left, you took it upon yourself to look after her. You basically had to drop out of college in your first year and start working in order to keep a roof over your heads and food on the table.

She wanted to dance, too, which you had no problem with, but you told her to finish her education first. You wanted at least one of you to have a degree.

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything, right?” Gia said, looking at you through the mirror’s reflection.

You smiled appreciatively, grabbing your lip gloss to reapply. “Yes, I know. But all’s good, really.”

In all the time you’d known Gia, your love life had been practically nonexistent. Sure, you’d unfortunately dated one or two assholes, but you never let it get too far. It was better to be alone than in bad company.

She knew some of your worst stories and would never judge you, but you didn’t really want to tell her about Aaron. You didn’t want to jinx it, in a strange way, but there was also not a lot to tell.

Plus, it was kind of nice to have the secret to yourself for now.

“If you say so,” she conceded as you stepped up to the mirror next to her. “Here, I’m up soon, give me a lil bunny kiss for good luck.”

You turned to face her with a small chuckle, and the two of you gingerly rubbed noses together.

—————————

“Well, well… look who’s back,” you said with a smirk as Aaron sat on a stool by the bar.

He smiled lopsidedly. “It’s nice to see you again, Honey.”

Almost a full week had passed since you last saw him. Most of those days, you would sneak hopeful glances at the door. Whenever she caught you, Josephine would snicker to herself, shaking her head in amusement.

You were actually kind of surprised he’d actually shown up again, especially so close to the end of the night, but you weren’t going to complain.

You poured him his drink and slid it over. “So, you couldn’t resist the lure of the Duchess for too long, huh?”

He chuckled, taking a sip of scotch. “Well, this is actually kind of embarrassing but… I came in on Saturday, but you weren’t here. Didn’t stay long then.”

Your traitorous heart began pounding in your chest. You snuck a glance at Josephine, who was busy closing someone’s tab. Had she seen him?

“Oh, yeah, I’m not here on weekends. I have another job,” you shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

“Where?” He asked seemingly before he could think about it.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? So you can come stalk me there, too?”

His cheeks actually grew red and his eyes widened a little. “Um… ha, well, I-”

“I’m just kidding, silly!” You chuckled. “I’m sorry, you should see the look on your face.”

He shook his head, visibly relaxing. “Just felt like yanking my chain, didn’t you?”

“It is kind of fun,” you smirked.

“So you are a busy girl, you weren’t kidding,” he commented, with admiration in his tone. “And of course, you don’t have to tell me about all that you do.”

“A girl has a right to secrets, doesn’t she?”

“I do like a little bit of mystery…”

“What about you?” You asked. “You haven’t told me what you do.”

“Well I’m an open book, so I’ll tell you.” He brought something out from his pocket, opening it to reveal an FBI badge. “I’m a profiler with the FBI. Formerly a lawyer.”

How fitting, you thought to yourself. Still, you couldn’t help but deflate a little at this revelation. Not that you were expecting anything with him, but this made the chances much slimmer.

“No wonder you’re a workaholic,” you said. “Needing to catch so many bad guys out there and all.”

“I try to,” he looked down at this glass, nodding absently.

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, so you decided not to press the issue. When he looked back up, he’d decided to change the subject.

“This is going to sound weird, but do you know of a good place to get pancakes in the middle of the night?”

—————————

And so you found yourself sitting in a booth across from Aaron, the much brighter lights of the 24 hour diner letting you get a better look at him.

It was two AM and he looked exhausted but content, not to mention oh-so-ruggedly handsome. You hoped you didn’t look worse for wear under the fluorescent glow.

He’d gotten a short stack of buttermilk pancakes with a side of bacon, which he was now digging into with fervor. You’d opted for some fries and a vanilla milkshake to dip them into.

“Someone was hungry,” you commented, utterly amused.

“Famished,” he confirmed, wiping some maple syrup from the corner of his lips with a napkin. “Sorry if I’m losing my manners a little bit here.”

“All good, I’m kind of enjoying it actually,” you giggled, dipping a fry into your shake. “This is one of my favorite treats.”

“Can I try?”

“Sure, come closer,” you said, and he leaned forward so you could feed it to him.

“Hmm, not bad. It’s interesting.”

“My little sister and I used to have it all the time when we were kids. My mom got us into it,” you said, smiling a little at the memories. “She was such a sweet tooth.”

“Always nice to honor tradition,” he smiled, understanding there was something tender about this moment. “Right in this diner, too?”

“Oh no, it was back in our hometown. That diner was close to the highway, so a bunch of trucks would always be parked outside. Bit of a seedy place, sure, but I kind of loved it. The food was great, but definitely greasy. I remember there was an old jukebox that always played things like Buddy Holly or The Mills Brothers.”

You looked out the window for a moment, mind wandering back to the past. To a time when things weren’t so complicated and you always felt safe and happy and taken care of. It all seemed so foreign now. Not that you weren’t happy these days, but… it was just different.

“So you like old, old music,” he said, bringing you back to the present. “I do like me some Mills Brothers, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll listen to anything. I love music, but there’s something about those old songs… They’ll get you.”

“Bit of a romantic, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t help but grin, feeling uncharacteristically coy. “How do you figure?”

“Hmm, let’s just say I have a knack for these things,” he smirked, pushing his empty plate to one side and leaning his arms on the table. “Have I told you yet that you are beautiful?”

“You have, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Your phone buzzed with a new text message from Sadie, and you saw it was nearing three AM now.

“Should we get the check?” You asked, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“I’ll get it,” he said, waving you off as he flagged down the waitress. “And I’ll drive you home, too. No arguing about it.”

You raised both eyebrows. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

After settling the bill, you climbed into the passenger side of Aaron’s SUV. He handed you an aux cord so you could plug your phone in, and you decided to play some Chet Baker on shuffle.

And of course, ‘I Fall In Love Too Easily’ just had to be the first song to come up. Neither of you made any comment on it, instead remaining mostly quiet on the ride to your place. You guided him through the darkened streets, sneaking glances at his profile.

When he pulled up to your condo, you unbuckled your seatbelt but did not get out just yet. You looked at each other, both unsure of how this night would end.

“I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you,” he said finally. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your number last time, I just didn’t want to presume…”

Wordlessly, you extended your hand towards him. He handed you his cellphone, and you saved your information on it. You even took a selfie blowing a kiss at the camera to keep it as your contact picture, and you saw he was smiling lopsidedly as you handed his phone back.

“Problem solved,” you said with a wink. “I’ve had a really nice time, too.”

“We’ve got to figure out a better time for our next date. Can’t just take you out gallivanting at the hour between the dog and the wolf… It speaks poorly of me.”

You smirked mischievously. “Oh, so this was a date?”

He hesitated for just a brief moment, once again worried he was stepping too far. In that moment, it only made you want him more. After all, you shouldn’t even be jumping into conclusions about where this could all lead or what it meant. There was only the present.

You leaned on the dashboard between you, propping your chin on your hand and fluttering your lashes.

He swallowed hard. “I suppose I could’ve been clearer but… yes. To me it was.”

“Well, if this was a date, does that mean I can bid you a proper goodnight?” Your voice was low and sultry, eyes drawn to his lips as you leaned in even closer.

In the next second, his hand was cupping the back of your neck, pulling you in to meet his kiss. You adjusted so you were kneeling on the seat, hands on his face. Softly, he sighed your name into your mouth as you parted his lips with your tongue.

It was a slow and sweet kiss, very much exploratory. He let you set the pace, tongue tangling with yours. You let your teeth graze his bottom lip, which elicited a deliciously deep groan from him. Desire roared to life within you, and you wished you could press firmly against him.

When he tried to adjust his body, he accidentally elbowed the horn, and the two of you abruptly broke apart as it blared a single note. You momentarily shared a startled look, but then you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Forgot myself for a moment there,” he panted, also chuckling at his own clumsiness. “But I guess that’s my cue.”

You tilted your head to one side, just a little perplexed. His dark eyes were glazed over with lust, but he didn’t even ask if you’d invite him inside. For your part, you were craving more — so much more — but you weren’t going to push if he wanted to be such a gentleman.

You leaned in for another quick, chaste kiss — One that had a promise for more behind it. When you pulled away, you let your eyes rove over his face, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Sweet dreams, Aaron,” you said as you opened the car door. “And by that, I mean I hope you dream of me.”

“I really hope so too, Honey.”

#ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner x stripper!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #minors dni #aaron hotchner #criminal minds

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the1975attheirverybest · 2 years ago

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Date Night

A/N: second installment of Fwb Matty. Based on this and included a few different things we talked about yesterday. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: smut, very mild angst. Some sub-ish Matty? Do we like him? Prefer dom!Matty? Both? Neither? Thoughts?

———

“You’re late.” Her eyes sized him up, hand on her hip, heel tapping against the floor.

Matty knew he’d fucked up, but it was an honest mistake. He’d genuinely lost track of time. After a long week of getting nowhere with producing his new record, just as he was about to leave, a lightbulb went off in his head and he had to see it through. He had no idea the restaurant would have closed by the time that he remembered to look up from his desk.

“I- I know. Sorry-“ he moved to walk through her doorway but her body didn’t budge. She wouldn’t let him in.

Matty’s face betrayed him. His remorse, and the surprise at her reaction, written all over his features. “You gonna let me in?” He asked a bit hesitant.

“Why should I?” She sighed, not giving him a chance to answer before she spoke again. “Do you remember WHY you set up this dinner in the first place?”

“Look, I said I’m sorry-“

“I asked you a question.”

“I- I do remember. Your date blew you off and��I said I’d take you out. Show you how you’re meant to be treated.”

“Yeah, you really fuckin’ nailed it, didn’t you?” She looked away from him at the passersby, suddenly aware the people on the street were subjected to their fight.

“I’m sorry, okay? Now let me in so I can explain.”

“Matty it’s almost midnight. Just go home. I don’t wanna hear it.” She spoke softer. Her arms wrapping around her torso defensively.

“ just- let me in and we can talk. Hmm?” Matty stepped forward, she turned around and walked in, finally giving him the space to slide through the door and shut it behind him.

“You know what? I’m not doing this. I’m going to bed. Stay, leave, it’s really up to you.”

He rushed behind her, grabbing her arm. “I was in the studio okay?! I had work to do! I couldn’t just drop it and leave! It’s not the kind of thing that I can just pick back up the next day. I had to see this through. And maybe if you weren’t so keen on being angry, you’d understand. My job- it’s different.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Forgot. You’re a genius. the rules don’t apply to you!”

She was pushing his buttons. He absolutely hated when anyone compared his personal tendencies to the self-important musician types who glorified their own “genius.”

“The fuck is the matter with you? I didn’t say that. I don’t care!”

“Yes, you don’t care. You’ve made that very clear. How little you care about my time and my feelings. You had to work? Fine. I get that. Couldn’t even spare me a text? Postpone? Let me know you’re not fucking coming so I don’t spend my whole fucking night waiting around for you like a fool in this stupid outfit and- just- you don’t get it. You never will.” She pried her arm out of his hold and walked down the hall.

Matty ran his fingers through his hair, huffing in frustration. “Your ego’s just bruised cuz of that dickhead who pied you off. ‘S the only reason we’re even havin’ this conversation right now.”He shot back, saying exactly the right words to get a rise of her.

“Get the fuck out. Out! Now!” She shoved him with all the strength she could muster and he almost tripped backwards.

“Fine. Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Before Matty made it to her front door, he heard her slam the bedroom door shut, and begin to cry.

“Fuck me.” He whispered under his breath, his hand on the apartment doorknob.

***

Matty had been standing in front of her bedroom door for ages. Listening to her sniffle and cry in there. All alone. And kicking himself for how insensitive he’d been. He wanted to go in there and apologize immediately, but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth again, he’d only make things worse. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and knocked on her door.

“Go away, Matty!”

“No! I mean- respectfully, I- I’m not going anywhere. May I come in?”

He took her silence as a yes and opened the door hesitantly, peaking his head through the small crack. The sight that his eyes landed on made his stomach turn.

In the dim light of the bedside lamp, he saw her sitting at the edge of the bed, makeup colored tear stains running down her face. “Oh, darlin’ I’m so sorry.”

She covered her face with her hands, sobbing into her palms and dreading having to talk to him.

Matty moved towards her slowly and delicately, whispering apologies and hoping she’d look at him. He crouched down on the floor, sitting on his knees and reached for her hands.

“Please, look at me. Please?” He pulled at her wrists, prying her hands away from her face and wiping her tears gently with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. Yeah? Sorry. Really. What I did- no excuses. And what I said to you was awful.”

She made several failed attempts to stop her crying. Mumbling incoherently. “I- I’m- don’t- it’s no big deal.” She sighed, letting her tears fall onto his hands.

“Yes it is.”

“N-no. You are not the first or last person on the planet to forget about a dinner plan with a friend. Don’t know why I’m being so dramatic.”

“You’re not being dramatic. I gave you my word. Told you I’d show you how you ought to expect guys to treat you, and then I went and- and fuckin abandoned you! What kind of friend does that?”

Her eyes finally met his. She could see the regret all over his face. Matty was good at arguing his way out of anything. He had a smart mouth on him, and that charming smile that would bring anyone to their knees. But, this, right now, was different. It was him who was on his knees. And she believed every word that he said.

“I- I really did want to spend the evening with you. I promise. Time just- got away from me.”

She smiled softly. “Yeah,” nodding. “I know how you get when you’re in the zone.”

His face relaxed. “Yeah, but that’s no excuse. I- could’ve at least texted. Just didn’t realize how much time had gone by. Came over as soon as I noticed. Please forgive me?”

Matty rested his head in her lap. “Gosh. Look at the dress you’re wearing. You made an effort. Went to all this trouble.”

She nodded, righteous indignation suddenly hitting her again. “I did. Actually tried to look nice. Thought you would too. I mean, I know it was a little little friend date, but, with my tragic dating history…I don’t know. I was excited not to have to be nervous or pretend to be someone I’m not. Cuz it’d be just us. Just you and me.”

Every word she spoke shot daggers into Matty’s heart. He’d all but crushed her sprit. “I’m such a fuckin’ idiot. Oh, gosh. Please lemme make it up to you. Tonight! Like, right now! I’ll get us dinner. Or, if it’s too late, I’ll cook for you.” He looked up at her, his eyes silently begging.

She paused for a moment, thinking, and taking in his compromised position, when an idea popped into her head. “I have a better idea.” A devilish smile crept on her face.

***

“Ahh! Ahh- hurts. Baby, it hurtsss” Matty cried out, fighting the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes. She’s been touching him for what felt like hours. Waiting for him to get right to the edge, and then stopping just as he starts to feel good. He was now beyond sensitive. Every inch on his skin feeling hot as fire. He was certain his sweat had drenched the bedsheets, and, more than anything, he was feeling a bit light-headed.

“Do you wanna stop?” She asked, her hand hovering dangerously close, but not quite touching him.

Matty stared at her mutely, trying to think through his answer, but his head was scrambled, his eyes glassy. He wasn’t entirely sure she was present. If they stop, the torture goes away. But, he knew she was having fun. And this was about her, not him. “W-wanna- make you happy. Wanna be good. For you.”

That was all she needed to hear. She went back to pumping him, mercilessly.

“Ah! Fuck! That’s - in-intense! Can I cum now? Please? Can I?”

“Not yet. Matty, don’t you dare.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I promise!” He repeated over and over.

Once again, just as he felt a hot wave of pleasure rush over him, she took her touch away, leaving him writhing. “Fuckkkk- that hurts!!” He yelled out. Tears finally streaming down his face. She stared at him for a long while, seemingly hypnotized by the sight of him so uncontrolled. His chest rising and falling, flushed and red all over, sweat dropping down his body, curving at his muscles; his hair splayed over the pillow, his eyes red and watering, his lips red and bitten over. He was perfect.

She placed a gentle hand on his cheek and he titled his head slightly to kiss it.

“You doing okay, Matty?”

“Dizzy.” He mumbled. He loved when she said his name.

“We should stop then.” She tore herself away from him to pull his boxers back over his legs. For a brief moment, she saw a look flash over his eyes and thought she’d hear a flood of complaints. That she’s put him through all this for nothing. That he had to cum at the end. That this wasn’t fair. But, Matty said nothing.

“Can I get you anything? Some water? You look out of it. You feeling alright?”

It took him a moment to muster some strength, but he eventually smiled softly. “D-did you, umm, have fun?”

“Yeah, plenty of fun.”

“Then- uh, yeah. I’m okay.” Matty sighed, closing his eyes for a second, before opening them again to look up at her. “Can I- could I stay the night? Please?”

“Of course, Matty. Always.” She placed a quick peck on his lips before scrambling to her feet to grab him some water and a change of clothes. “Think I’ve got some of your clothes around here somewhere.”

“Uh, hey, are you still mad at me? I mean- forgive me?” Matty mumbled into the duvet as she pulled it over his body.

“Oh, Matty, I forgave you before we even started.”

“Yeah?”

“Would’ve forgiven you, either way. That’s the wild thing about you, mate. Can never stay mad at you.”

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burnwater13 · 3 months ago

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Concept art by Christian Alzmann from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 1, Stranger in a Strange Land. Image depicts Fett trying to climb out of the sand near the Sarlacc pit on Tatooine. Jabba's sail barge is shown crashed and burned to cinders in the background.

Din Djarin sighed. He knew better than to let Fennec have unsupervised time with Grogu. She was both too predictable and too unpredictable. She would tell Grogu a story that would keep him up all night because he couldn’t believe it and then the kid had to verify every detail with his dad. Did Stormtroopers really only drink their food? Had someone designed their helmets with the vision and siting systems impaired on purpose? Had Bo-Katan really betrayed her sister and caused all the problems on Mandalore?

Then Djarin would spend the rest of the night explaining the details as he knew them, help Grogu find accurate accounts of what had really happened if it was even possible, and then explain that there was never a time that Mandalore wasn’t a complicated society. Sometimes Grogu believed him and sometime his son waited until the next day to quiz Fennec on the details that still didn’t jibe.

Often on those occasions the Daimyo’s chief administrator would act innocent and explain very gently to Grogu that history changed based on who related it to you. The best you could do was know what you had been doing at any time and not worry about everyone else. Then she would cackle and ask Grogu to help her move something around the palace that the Daimyo needed done sooner rather than later.

Grogu always came back from those small tasks much happier and usually didn’t ask more questions about whatever the topic had been earlier that had gotten him so upset to begin with. It was frustrating that no matter what he said, Grogu considered Fennec Shand to be the arbiter of the truth. That was not the Way.

Now she was right back at it. Brining up the whole thing with Luke and his friend Solo. Din Djarin didn’t need Grogu to get caught up in that sort of wild tauntaun chase. He’d finished the task the Daimyo had asked him to address to their mutual benefit and now he wanted to get off Tatooine and away from the silliness that Fennec brought into their lives.

“Hey, Mando, if you don’t want to collect the puck on Solo, do you mind if I borrow your apprentice? I hear he has a soft spot for kids and an easy credit. The way I figure it, the kid and I could have him stitched up in less than 12 parsecs.”

Then Fennec chuckled to herself as she waited for his answer.

“He’s my apprentice Fennec. How about this, I’ll take Grogu to Ossus and talk to Luke to see if he knows where Solo is, while you find out if any of those pucks are still active. It’s been a while since the Empire surrendered. The New Republic should have taken care of that by now.”

Fennec snorted.

“The same New Republic that managed to lose control of Gideon, Pershing, and a half dozen other ex-Imperials? Those guys? They don’t even know how to find the privies on Coruscant.”

“Fine. I’ll have Karga call in a favor with the Bounty Guild and see what they say.”

“You’d be better off going to Nal Hutta. Jabba’s family probably knows if anyone still cares about Solo.”

Fennec looked pleased with herself and that annoyed the Mandalorian. She was always pleased with herself and usually at his or Grogu’s expense.

“Okay. How about this…”

He was about to propose that they both go to Nal Hutta when Grogu chirped at them both. As they turned to look at him, Peli Motto came into the workroom with the Majordomo in tow.

“Hey there! Kiddo! I was lookin’ all over for ya! Tall and handsome here told me you were down here making’ yer’self useful. I just got in a new consignment of flash frozen froglettes and I wanted yer’ dad to have first crack at them.”

“Do other people really need a crack at those?” Fennec asked Grogu’s diminutive curly haired friend.

“You’d be surprised. Takes all kinds as my dad used to say. Any who, ya want them or not?”

Djarin laughed softly. Trust Peli to be all business.

“Sure. Have half them shipped here and the other half shipped to Nevarro. Grogu and I are heading out to Nal Hutta and I don’t have room for them.”

“Nal Hutta? Why in the name of the Force would you want to go to that worm hole?”

Peli walked over to Grogu and picked him up and began to ask him who had hit his dad on the head lately.

“To check on the bounty pucks they put out on one of the Jedi’s friends. A guy named Han Solo.”

“Han who? Never heard of him.” Peli made a face at Grogu and the two of them laughed. Apparently she was describing Djarin to his own son. Uff.

“If you’ll permit me, Master Mandalorian, I may have information to share with you regarding that aspect of the Hutt’s activities and it may help you determine…”

“Just spit it out. He’s a friend, not the mayor of Mos Eisley.”

Fennec snapped as the Majordomo had begun one of his customary drones.

“Very good. Very good. The Hutts retracted all of the bounties they had on Captain Solo and his Wookiee companion Chewbacca in the hopes of avoiding trouble with the New Republic. So far it has worked, or so I’m told.”

The Mandalorian sighed again. Despite how happy Grogu was to be with Peli, he was suddenly deflated and looked like he was going to cry. Djarin hated when that happened. It would be several days before Grogu was just his happy, curious self, and during that time the Mandalorian would have to buy him all manner of sweets just to keep the kid from scuffing his feet everywhere they went. Maybe they should take a quick trip to Mandalore and see if the new sweets shop was open.

“Thanks. I guess that’s it buddy. We’ll have to go to Corellia and pick up fire stacks at that noodle shop you like so much.”

Grogu launched himself out of Peli’s arms, clearly counting on the Mandalorian catching him. No one needed to worry about that working out. The Force was always with Grogu when it counted.

#calendar prompt a day #din djarin #grogu #the book of boba fett #fennec shand #the mandalorian #peli motto #majordomo #Han Solo

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jasontoddenthusiastt · 2 years ago

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Some of the metas you reblogged made me want a "careful what you wish for'ish story with Jason. Jason or Bruce missing the old version of the other and accidentally wishing for them back. Or another idea of someone complaining Jason doesn't listen to them cursing Jason to not be able to disobey them.

I apologize that it took so long to finish this (and sorry if it’s full of lukewarm takes). I ended up redoing this like 7 times because I suck at analyzing and writing in general.

Anyway I began with a comparison of how both Jason and Bruce were during Jason’s time as robin, which is dubbed the era of “good dad Bruce Wayne”, and how they’ve evolved after aditf and who they are now. The full thing is super long so I’ll leave it under the cut.

Despite respecting Jason and trusting him as a sidekick, even in the early days there’s evidence of Bruce’s inability to trust other people and his need to control the situation by withholding information. I’m referring to him neglecting to tell Jason that Two Face killed Willis in Batman #411. It’s the same logic he applies to his interactions with Jason now; the “who knows how far he would’ve taken it had he known the truth.” To be fair he also says “I was wrong” but then it’s immediately followed by the classic “I was just trying to protecting you.”

Essentially, he can’t run the risk of trusting Jason because he doesn’t believe Jason could demonstrate self control. His reasoning being because Jason is a child, which isn’t really fair even then. However, he still continues to treat Jason this way when he’s an adult.

He never does finish off with an apology and say “I’m sorry, Jay. I shouldn’t have kept that from you. You had a right to know and you wouldn’t have gotten so angry if I’d told you from the start.” The conversation ends with Jason feeling guilty for losing control of the situation, and Bruce essentially being like “it’s fine chum ☺️”. So while he was a kind to Jason and they had their wholesome moments, you could still see the early signs of his problematic behaviors that are still present to this day.

Bruce views it as a necessary evil to betray people he claims to trust (and who trust him) for the sake of the mission, and even for his personal agenda. Current day Bruce Wayne is a caricature of the more brutal qualities he demonstrated (though less frequently) in his earlier comics. His “I’m doing this for your good, you need this” logic is unwavering, even when he’s physically abusing Jason to the point he can’t move. The way Jason sees Bruce is “well he’s my father and he’s a reasonable person. I can trust him.” Despite Bruce repeatedly betraying his trust.

Young Jason is aware of the destructive path he’s been put on, but because he has faith in Bruce both as his father and Batman, he’s quick to forgive him and dismiss this. Ultimately Bruce still makes an effort to comfort and reassure Jason. The difference between earlier comics Bruce and current Bruce is that in the same way Batman is much more brutal with his opponents, he became much colder and neglectful as a parent too.

The difference between “old Jason” and current day Jason is his firm belief that Batman’s methods are flawed. He was already starting to disagree with him in aditf; however his death was the catalyst for him fully losing faith in Batman. Becoming a teenager and seeing reality through your own eyes, growing out of the (often) flawed and/or outdated logic parents try to impart onto you, that’s just part of maturing. He’s at an age where he is suddenly bombarded by a lot of intense anger and frustration at the unfairness and injustice he sees, and wrestling with past traumas that are now resurfacing (this does not define his entire personality, it’s just a natural outcome given the position he’s been put in and the trajectory of his life thus far, but I digress). Bruce says Jason can’t be trusted but he fails to actually listen to his son or provide much-needed guidance. If he’d communicated with Jason face to face, things would have gone a lot differently. Maybe it wouldn’t have ended in an explosion, Jason would have lived, and he wouldn’t have lost faith in Batman. He could have still become disillusioned with Batman though, because again, Jason sees the deeper underlying issues that Batman cannot adequately address or solve. Had things gone differently (i.e., had he not died), maybe he could have potentially put down the mantle of Robin, healed himself his own way, and built a career helping victims.

I’m guessing what you mean by "if the old Jason were back" is if nothing changed about his backstory (he still died), but his current self suddenly agrees with Batman and his no-kill code. I think the evidence points to Batman being content with this outcome, and I say this because really the only times Bruce treats Jason with respect is when Jason obeys Bruce against his better judgement with little to no objection. I think he’d be relieved Jason finally “stopped being so difficult” and take satisfaction in his compliance. If Jason one day apologized, Bruce would confirm his suspicions about Jason (i.e., he’s unpredictable and violent, needed “tough love”, etc). Then we’d have Jason become just another batkid who doesn’t kill but beats the shit out of villains, which is what Bruce believes is the only right path for all of his kids, Jason included. This would virtually extinguish the decades long conflict they had going, but it’d be underwhelming, unsatisfying, and it would be at the expense of Jason’s true character.

If the “old Bruce” came back, he’d still disagree with and distrust Jason, but he’d probably be less physically abusive about it? He still wouldn’t have done it himself, but maybe he would have let Jason kill joker. I want to give him some credit and say he could have done that, because he was contemplating killing joker after Jason’s death in Batman #429, and basically left joker to die in a helicopter crash (though he never found his body or made sure he finished the job). Maybe in the same way, he could have turned a blind eye and let Jason blow his deranged brains out, because (and this is Batman’s own words) “that’s the law. Not Justice”. If he retained this emotional state at the time of utrh. Following this though, I think they’d stop communicating and Jason would leave to do his own thing. Jason would be relieved, though I don’t believe it’s enough for him to want to stick around just yet, because joker being dead was important yes, but there’s also the matter of “you weren’t willing to do that for me, dad”. Maybe they could eventually get to a WFA-esque situation where Jason continues to kill with the exception of the few times he works with the batfam. Bruce learns to be indifferent to the killing, and he actually tries to rebuild their relationship. Idk, but one can dream.

Alternatively, if everything went the same way but at the very least the old Bruce didn’t re-traumatize and abuse Jason, constantly destroying any chance he has at healing, that’s more than he would ever wish for imo.

In summary, I don’t think either of them reverting to their old selves would cause issues sm as it would resolve their long-standing conflict. If Jason just straight up agreed with and obeyed Batman, Bruce wouldn’t have much reason to be angry at him and fight him all the time. If Bruce became more flexible and adopted a more nuanced stance on justice, he’d have more understanding and leniency towards Jason which would again, cause them to fight less.

**Edit: mobile keeps removing the last bit of texts on my posts:

#asks

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whataphantasia · 1 year ago

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ok it's nighttime where i am which makes it PERFECT to go on about my

✨post-crystallized ninjago brain ramble and non-critical retrospective✨

because. ninjago do be making my brain go !! and i need to yell abt it to myself to my blog void b4 i go onto dragons rising and stuff. i talked abt this on discord but only 2 ppl following me are in that server so wtv (hi btw X3)

i want to preface this by saying i dont interact with the ninjago fandom at all, and i know near nothing about behind-the-scenes things or stuff said by production. this is all my thoughts babeyy (which means im going to sound absolutely clueless and talk abt things that hav probably already been resolved. wtv) none of this is supposed to be critical thinking LOL pls dont attack me. i sound complainey but i dont hate the show, this is how i show love for media <3

really the most pressing thing to me was. being really frustrated about garmadon’s whole arc at the end of tournament of elements. yknow when misako finds out about the letter. i feel like they didn’t really go into depth about RESOLVING that whole thing, like showing the repercussions and thoughts of all parties involved after the fact? how does this affect their family? i suppose misako and lloyd talked about it during day of the departed, kind of? but. my needy ass just goes “IT WASN’T ENOUGH.” really, i don’t really like character death or sacrifice as the resolution to a conflict or arc unless it’s done really well, and. is this supposed to feel unsatisfying?! because it is to me!!

yes. i know it’s a kids show. its super likely something's going over my head right now, but. it really made me think again because misako and garmadon didn’t really even talk after harumi revived his oni side, and especially after all the interactions lloyd and garmadon had during crystallized. seriously, someone rec me fics that explore misako and garmadon talking post tournament of elements please JDKWNFJSND. and really i didn’t hate the resolution of tournament of elements... this is my single major nitpick about it LOL

continuing with that thought, like. lloyd has lost his dad multiple times... this isn’t fair to him!!! give bro a break!!! (silly) (i know its fiction LOL) honestly why doesn’t he have WORSE trust issues after considering his mom and harumi and all the other people who’ve abandoned slash betrayed him?! and yeah misako really is the least terrible offender here, and i’m not blaming her— but ya can’t ignore that it DID affect him. this is why i was really excited for the prospect of a corruption arc for him during crystallized, however brief. he deserves it! let him destroy a few buildings, maybe kill a guy! let him fulfill his rise of the serpentine dreams, but for real this time! again REC ME FICS RAGHH

...though yes. i know he’s developed really far to the point he’d never hurt people like that, and tbh you could say he was never really evil in the first place but. you gotta understand that the corruption arc is one of my FAVORITE tropes. i’ll do anything for em... it’s my fatal flaw...

heck like. this is why i was really excited for the ice emperor because i KNEW that was zane the moment i saw him LMAO. he’s my favorite character how can i not tell. but in the end he just lost his memories and was being manipulated by some other bad guy... same thing goes for possession, lloyd wasn’t the bad guy, it was morro possessing him... its not the same </3 let them be lead astray even WITH their past memories and relationships and feelings... i need the angst... (you can tell im insane because im saying this about a lego show)

anyways point is. i like corruption arcs. and i WILL write fic about the ice emperor gaining more agency no matter how out of character and detached from the original message it is. (even sillier connotation)

okay thats the end of me nitpicking for now, i think. i mean i have a lot of qualms... esp about wu characterization in the new animation studio half, but. thats one thing i know that has been talked abt AT LENGTH. and idk if this is an unpopular opinion but i liked all da seasons for different reasons, they all appeal to my different happy little facets of media i enjoy :) im still fresh off of watching the show again for the first time in forever so this opinion will probably change, who knows.

really im just happy to have gone thru the whole main series! including wu's teas! not including dragons rising tho. ill get around to that after this. and maybe look into more production and behind the scenes stuff, and the games and supplementary content too. i love consuming content 🥰

anyway... uhm. can you tell zane is my favorite. because i said it explicitly some sentences ago. god he is so. ykwhat heres a screenshot bc i dont want to write this all out again

thanks for listening bye :3

ninjago... my favorite piece of inherently kind of problematic but overall very fun and well meaning media (esp in the later seasons compared to the earlier ones)... kisses it

#ph_ninjago #ph_ramb #a REALLY long ramb. im being so fr

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unohanadaydreams · 2 years ago

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This is an offering to the Byakuya loving masses who I neglect like 99.9% of the time: here are some Byakuya as an uncle HCs. I don’t really have much further to say re: Byakuya as a dad rn but hopefully this will make up for it.

Your persistence in the ask box for more dad!Byakuya has finally been heard but also not answered at all.

Features: mentions of renruki, Ichika ofc, and Byakuya being an uncle.

BYAKUYA AS AN UNCLE (TO ICHIKA) HEADCANONS

For Byakuya, there’s much preparation to be done.

His mansion is old elegance, so child proofing is done quickly. Empty rooms are common. Decoration and furniture are designed to be moved with ease already. There are plenty of staff on hand to smooth down wooden corners and put up the ‘baby gates’.

The real production lies in Byakuya, himself. He invites Renji and Rukia to bring Ichika over to tea. He practices holding her correctly. He gauges their reaction when she spits up what he would deem ‘too much’ milk, but their reaction is only to laugh at the mess juxtaposed with Byakuya’s concerted non-reaction.

There’s also the supplies to consider! He invites them over so he can rub blankets against her cheek and divine which Admiral Seaweed stuffie she likes best. How soundly does she sleep with the cherry blossoms spinning overhead versus the koi fish? What style of doll does she grab with more vigor?

Discerning the preferences of a baby is tireless sport.

As she grows into a toddler, he finds himself less happy to play toys with her. He realizes it’s unfair.

But, her sudden ability to choose how the little geisha dolls will spend their pretend days clashes heavily with their schedule that he and smaller, baby Ichika made.

He compromises by opening a competing tea shop right next to the one he and Ichika had first established, with a new set of geisha dolls. They were now rivals and Byakuya was obviously running the superior shop, with more organized entertainment, but Ichika certainly thought otherwise.

And in terms of creative innovation, her haphazard strokes of bright paint in the interior gave her a modern edge. His shop sign was better, though.

She agreed on the sign and Ichika did like calligraphy. The large brush and purposeful movements caught her eye and made her reach out her arms to try. Those attempts weren’t good. But Byakuya found he couldn’t help but keep them.

Sometimes he catches his staff remarking on the similarities of Yachiru versus Ichika, but Byakuya thinks those are superficial at best. Yes, they are both young girls with a vigor for life and candy. That describes a lot of children, though.

If someone asked Ichika to run the Woman’s Association, she could not. She would be frustrated at the responsibility and feel uneasy at her lack of knowledge and hold back tears when scolded in a work setting.

As she grew older and more confident and more eager to be all the things her mother and father and uncle were—a shinigami—he thought his point of view stood just the same. Yachiru would never care to learn from Ikkaku. She never cared to learn anything from anyone.

Ichika loves to learn even when she hides it behind a bravado that insists she’s mastered it all. Byakuya enjoys letting her pick and choose all the teachings and instructors his clan has at their disposal. He realizes that he enjoys how free she can be without the title of Heir looming overhead—enjoys even more the exploitation of Kuchiki resources solely for her entertainment.

#I just think Byakuya would take play seriously but he’d also understand it’s not Ichika’s problem it’s his #he’s like hmmm guess I’ll have another set of this toy made so we can play our own ways #Byakuya Kuchiki every time someone says Ichika is like Yachiru: 🔪🔪🔪#but not really he’d never betray that kind of frustration now a days #bleach

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purple-babygirl · 3 years ago

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request if open; daddy!bucky had a bad day and little!reader is just trying to comfort him but he accidently lashes out and yells at her/pushes her and immediately feels guilty but she regresses even more into her little space and is scared of him, you can kinda play around w this and figure out how it ends! xx

Pairing: Mafia!Daddy!Bucky Barnes x f!little!reader

Word Count: 3,423 (you know you love me)

Warnings: ddlg dynamics, yelling, harsh treatment, crying, angst turned fluff?

A/N: thank you so much for sending this in, nonnie. i took your request and ran with it to angst land. Hope you enjoy xx💜

~~~~~

signature needed

“Dada,”

She could see Bucky’s frown, the lines on his forehead wrinkling his handsome face up. She knew it meant he was upset and she never wanted Daddy to be upset. She knew he never left her upset.

Bucky’s been looking like that since he walked through the mansion door that morning, barely acknowledging her when she greeted him. He almost forgot to give her her welcome-home kiss even.

“Not now, angel,” Bucky murmured, proceeding to flip through the papers covering his desk, huffing and puffing every now and then at the mess he was stuck trying to fix.

“Wanna show you somethin’,” she whispered, biting back a smile.

“Later, angel. I’m busy right now.”

He regretted telling her to come in. He should’ve known she’d be nothing but a distraction.

“Dada, jus’ take one look,” she bounced on her feet before slipping a neat sheet of paper on top of Bucky’s desk, momentarily blocking his view of the contracts he was angrily staring at. Now that made Bucky mad.

“I said I was busy!” Bucky shouted as his head snapped to her, his hand slamming down on the paper without even seeing it, blindly crumpling it and throwing it on the floor at her feet. She flinched at the sudden outburst, taking a step back.

“Dada,” tears filled her eyes as she looked at her discarded paper. Bucky just broke her heart.

“Why don’t you ever listen!” Bucky grabbed her arm tighter than usual, pulling her back to him, “How many times do I need to repeat the words for you to understand! I said not now, didn’t I?!” He let go of her arm with more force than he’d intended, making her stumble a little.

She was terrified now. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked at Bucky with wide eyes. He has never lashed out on her like that, not even when she was big. She was scared. As her breath picked up, she wished she’d never left her playroom.

“Get out and don’t step into this office again until I tell you you can, you hear me?” Bucky growled, oblivious to the signs of regression and horror showing on her face.

Her quick nods set off no alarms in his head as he watched her run out of his office.

Bucky felt bad about taking his anger out on her the second she fled the room. He flopped back down with a huff, flipping through the contracts again and again with no focus. He threw them down carelessly, running his fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

Cracking his hurting neck, Bucky regretted raising his voice at her. He couldn’t see the words on the contracts; her teary eyes flashing through his mind every time he tried reading.

Why did he have to yell? He could’ve just looked at her paper. She was likely trying to show him a drawing. Why couldn’t he just go with it? He’s sworn he’d never let anybody hurt his angel and then he goes and does this?

Bucky was ashamed. What kind of Daddy was he if he treated his little like that? It was no excuse that he was still getting used to being a Daddy. Bucky knew that wasn’t how a man should treat his girl.

He bowed forward, picking up the balled paper by his desk. He carefully straightened it, deciding to fix his angel’s damaged drawing and make it up to her.

Only it wasn’t a drawing; the paper was a handwritten Daddy-Angel contract. It even had colourful flowers, bees and butterflies decorating the paper and everything.

She was probably trying to play office with him; probably just wanted Bucky to pretend he was signing her paper too.

A sad smile spread across Bucky’s lips as he read the paper. The contract stated that

- Dada will smile

- Dada will not be angry no more

- Dada will let me sit on his lap (will be quiet pp)

- Dada will play with me after work

Dada: ……………..

The paper ended with a free space for Bucky to sign in case of agreement to the ‘terms’.

There were a lot of moments where Bucky wished he could turn back time, but not being able to do so in this very moment seemed to torture him the most. He was an asshole.

She just wanted him to calm down. She respected that he was working and she wasn’t trying to interrupt, she merely wanted him to smile. She even pinky promised to sit quietly in his lap.

Bucky has messed up and it was for nothing because the damage to his work has already been done. He shouted at her like she was responsible when she was just trying to help him feel better.

Bucky got his pen out of his pocket, signing the empty place by his name, remorsefully sighing at his utter stupidity.

“Angel,” Bucky called, knocking on the door before opening it.

She wasn’t in her playroom, but Bucky could see her round table full of similar papers to the one he had folded in his pocket.

She’s made at least 6 of these ‘contracts’, some of them were written in different colours or had spelling mistakes.

She’d obviously worked hard until she settled on the paper to give him and he ended up throwing it on the floor.

Bucky’s hand rubbed his face, frustrated at himself and his lack of control. An asshole was what he was. An asshole.

“Angel, where are you, baby?” Bucky sighed, opening the bedroom door to see her sitting, hugging her knees on the large bed.

She looked too tiny bundled up like that and her muffled sniffles punched at Bucky’s heart.

“Angel.”

She only lifted her head up when she felt the bed dip under Bucky’s weight and panic flashed over her delicate features.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Bucky said, his hand instinctively moving to wipe her tears only to have her flinch back, squeezing her eyes shut as if she was awaiting a blow.

Bucky’s heart stopped beating for a second when he realized what had just happened.

She was scared of him. His angel had flinched away from his touch. A huge lump formed in Bucky’s throat as she opened her eyes again, “angel?”

“Please don’ hurt me. Won’ come to the office. Won’ leave the room.” She shook her head and sobbed, scurrying back on the bed and away from Bucky.

This pained Bucky more than any punishment he thought he deserved. The look on her face was enough for him to want the walls to open up and swallow him.

“Angel, I would never hurt you. You know that.” Bucky whispered, sniffing back the tears about to spill down his bearded cheeks.

He needed to hear her say she did. He needed to know she knew Bucky could never hurt her.

She looked from Bucky to her left arm where his metal hand had grabbed her earlier. His fingers had left a mark around her arm. The skin was still pulsing as if his hold on her never loosened.

It was too late and it didn’t matter what he said because he’d already hurt her and the evidence was on her body.

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed as he swallowed again. He didn’t know what to say. He was supposed to be the one protecting her, not the one hurting her. How could he do such a thing to his angel?

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, shaking his head regretfully before trying to get closer to her.

Her instant reaction was to crawl back further and Bucky’s heart sank to his stomach. He felt his soul leaving his body when he looked her in the eyes and saw fear.

A tear betrayed him, falling down, gliding by his lips. Bucky wiped it away quickly, sniffing and clearing his throat.

“I signed your contract, angel.” Bucky got the paper out of his pocket, opening it and putting it on the bed for her to see.

Her eyes looked down and more tears left them at the sight of her once fine work now ruined.

“I’m so sorry, angel. Daddy was bad, baby. I’m sorry,” Bucky pleaded, his fingers reaching out for hers.

She pulled her hand away quickly, hiding it behind her back and Bucky knew he had really messed up. It was no use trying.

She was scared of him. His touch frightened her and was no longer a symbol of comfort to her.

He took his hand away, straightening his back and getting off the bed.

“I-I’ll see you at lunch then.” Bucky sniffed again.

“And angel?” he called from the door, getting her attention.

“Thank you for caring for daddy. I love you.” Bucky has never heard his voice as weak as he did in that moment and he felt even worse when she didn’t say it back.

When the table was set and Bucky came out of his office to find her chair empty, another lump was quick to form in his throat.

He wasn’t even hungry. He had no appetite to eat; he just wanted to see her but didn’t have the guts to peek into their bedroom again.

“Angel?” Bucky was ready to knock on the bedroom door but it was already open.

He carefully pushed it and took a look inside to find the bed empty. He tried not to freak out as he knocked the en suite bathroom door and got no answer. When he opened it, she wasn’t there either.

Bucky could hear his own blood pumping in his ears because she was no where to be found in her playroom as well.

She left. She left him and she had every right to. How could he lose her? How could he lose the one good thing in his life?

Tears distorted Bucky’s vision as his hand clutched the side of the door. His heart clenched at the thought of never seeing her again, never hearing her sweet voice call for him again; never getting to smell her on his pillow again.

The sound of her feet padding on the floor behind him pulled Bucky out of his head and he thought he’d imagined it for a second. He turned around and she froze when his eyes fell on her.

She shifted on her feet, hiding one behind the other and internally hoping Bucky wouldn’t notice she was roaming around with bare feet when he’d specifically asked her not to before.

That was the last of Bucky’s concerns at the moment though. He was just relieved she didn’t leave him even if he deserved it.

“Where were you, angel?” the tenderness of Bucky’s tone let her know he wasn’t mad at her for walking around shoeless.

“Couldn’ fin’ PinePine,” she replied softly, referring to the white feline, “’s lunch time.” Her eyes remained fixed on her feet as she avoided Bucky’s.

He was secretly thankful for that, not wanting her to see him in tears twice in the same day.

She was so pure; so caring and loving to everyone around. Bucky found himself slightly jealous of his own cat for a second there.

“Where did you find, PinePine?” He asked calmly, just wanting to hear her speak to him.

“Downstairs,” she answered shortly, leaving Bucky disappointed.

“Let’s go then. The table’s set.” Bucky smiled, hesitantly offering her his hand.

She stood unmoving for a few seconds, eyes still casted down, before she decided to hold onto Bucky’s pointer.

He sighed, knowing she was still scared but didn’t want to reject him. She was so sweet on him even when he least deserved it.

When lunch was over, Bucky let her know she could come to the office whenever she wanted, although he doubted she would. She gave a small nod before running back to the other room as Bucky shouted an “I’ll get back to work then.” behind her.

He didn’t actually get back to work. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think of anything but the way she pulled away from his touch every single time he tried to come near her, or the way she forced herself to hold one of his fingers as they walked less than 10 steps together to the dining room. She'd even begged him not to hurt her earlier.

How did he let himself fuck up so bad? When did they get there? What was he going to do now? How does one get forgiven after being this awful?

A lamp lit above the mafia boss’ head and he grabbed a clean sheet of paper before he could lose the idea.

Bucky was going to write his angel a contract. A pardon contract.

His Daddy-Angel 2.0 contract stated that:

- Angel will forgive Daddy

- Angel will not be sad with Daddy no more

- Angel will sit on Daddy’s lap (even if she doesn’t wanna be quiet)

- Angel will play with Daddy after work if she still wants to

Angel: …………….

Bucky sighed as he tried to draw anything other than sloppy hearts in the empty places around the words to decorate the paper but he was terrible at this. He was desperately in need of his angel’s forgiveness though so he scratched his beard and kept working.

Bucky needed to know she wasn’t actually scared of him; not her. Anyone but her. He wouldn’t be able to take it. He wouldn’t be able to ever tolerate himself if she didn’t forgive him.

Bucky’s tongue was hanging outside the side of his mouth as he drew another birdie on the bottom of the contract. It didn’t really look like a bird, unless of course that bird was struck by lightning a hundred times before, but Bucky thought it would do. After all, he was no artist. He didn’t draw. He didn’t deal with colours; he dealt with weapons. His hands were rough for a reason. But he would do anything for his angel. Anything to win her over again.

A knock on his door cut off his focus and Bucky groaned.

“Come in.”

He felt sorry for whoever had the bad luck of interrupting him during his contract-making, ready to yell at someone.

Bucky looked up from his desk when he didn’t hear anyone speaking, and his face has never softened so fast.

It was his girl who’d come into the office. She had her folded contract in her hand and her eyes were looking kind of puffy from crying.

Bucky just stared at her in remorse, pushing his chair back a bit as he watched her walk closer to his seat.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He was so sorry. He’s never been sorrier in his life. He wanted nothing more than to take every word and every harsh touch back.

She stood there for a second, waiting to see if Bucky was going to kick her out this time too. When he didn’t, she rounded the desk and stopped by Bucky’s chair.

Bucky remained speechless, not wanting to scare her away again. She came to him. She came on her own. Unless she came to throw the contract in his face and break up with him, that should be a good sign.

Her tongue peeked outside, wetting her lips nervously before she stretched an arm out, ever so carefully nearing it to Bucky’s thigh. Her gaze was glued to Bucky’s face, gauging his reaction. When Bucky’s frown didn’t show up she let her palm touch Bucky’s leg.

Bucky didn’t understand what she was doing but he wouldn’t dream of questioning her. He was just glad she was okay with touching him again at all after what he’d done, even if she was doing it so cautiously it broke his heart to a thousand pieces.

With her stare trained on Bucky, she stepped forward, slotting herself in the small space between Bucky’s chair and his desk, facing him. Her hands moved to grab on Bucky’s strong shoulders, still watching his face. She swallowed before effortlessly climbing on, cozily curling herself on his lap.

Bucky’s heart swelled as he felt her nose nuzzle his shirt. His own emotions overwhelmed him and tears gathered in his eyes.

“Angel?” his voice was barely a whisper as he looked down to her, careful not to startle her.

She looked up at him worriedly, thinking he didn’t want her where she was.

Her eyes showed fear for a short second before she unfolded the scrunched paper in her hand, a finger pointing to the third term.

“Dada signed,” she said, her eyes so innocent and Bucky couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“Oh, angel,” Bucky’s tears uncontrollably rolled down, wetting his beard.

He held her so close, she could hear his heartbeats drumming in his chest.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Bucky cried, wetly kissing her forehead over and over.

“I’m sorry, my angel. Forgive me,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss her bruised shoulder before lifting both hands to his lips and kissing them, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Dada,” her smaller hands cupped Bucky’s cheeks as sadness covered her features.

She’s never seen Bucky like that. Not even at his father’s funeral did he sob like that.

She didn’t know it but to Bucky, the thought of losing her hurt more than the actual loss of a family member who never gave two shits about him.

She was Bucky’s everything. His love, his partner, his companion, his baby angel. She was the one who stole his heart and took good care of it. Bucky would give up anything and everything in life and choose her to forever keep, protect and love.

Her short thumbs wiped under Bucky’s eyes, pushing his tears away. She turned to straddle him and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her cheek on his shoulder.

The smell of her hair calmed Bucky’s heart down as he turned his face to kiss her head, hands settling on her back, “I will never hurt you, angel. Please tell me you know that, my love.”

Bucky’s hoarse voice had her pulling away from the hug. She sat back and looked her man in the eyes, her thumb brushing his chin, “I know,” she whispered and Bucky could see it in her eyes. She did. She believed him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

She stroked Bucky’s cheeks as he sniffled, smiling gratefully at her reply. And his whole world lit up again when she smiled back, timidly pecking the corner of his pink lips.

Oh she was a real angel. No one’s ever been this kind to Bucky before, only her. Bucky kissed her hand one more time, quietly thanking her for forgiving him.

“I made you a contract too,” Bucky told her with a chuckle, pointing to the desk behind her as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, her smile reaching her wide eyes. She turned around in Bucky’s lap, planting her knees on the chair between Bucky’s open legs and stood on them to take a look.

She took her time reading the words and then she was off Bucky’s lap and bolting out of the room.

The man was about to lose it again, thinking she’d remembered his cruelty towards her and changed her mind when she came running back inside the office.

She climbed back on the chair between Bucky’s thighs, her glitter pen in hand.

Bucky sighed in relief, his lips spreading with an adoring smile as he watched her write her name letter by letter in glittery ink where her signature was needed. Bucky held her waist, kissing her back as he admired how focused she was.

She closed the cap on the pen, placing it on the desk before picking up the contract to show Bucky.

“Angel signed,” she beamed, plopping herself against Bucky’s chest and clinging to him, earning a hearty chuckle from him.

“I love you so much, angel. More than anything in the world.” Bucky gently held her face by the chin, giving her lips a short kiss.

“I love you too, dada.” She smiled, blushing as she hid her face in his chest again.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him and closing his eyes, just enjoying the feel of her body against his once more, silently promising his angel to never hurt her ever again.

Tags:

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@tinystudentfirepurse

@lavendercitizen

@tumblin-theworldaway

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

Text

shameful lust; suna rintarō

synopsis; he’s off limits in every way, but that only makes you want him more. based off of this, this, and this. the smut is inspired by my bunny anon’s birthday idea :) bunny, you know the one :)

pairings; brother’s bsf!suna rintarō x fem!reader

genre; porn with kind of plot lmfao

word count; 5.5k what the fuck??

trigger warning; age gap (not specified, & everyone’s 18+), masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, humiliation, praise, mini panic attack, link for the lingerie (slight nsfw warning)

it started off innocent, as most things do. you were sixteen when you first felt the butterflies nestled deep in your stomach, the drop of your heart, the heat of your cheeks, only around him. you’d thought it was a natural reaction; after all, you’d known suna rintarō since, quite literally, forever, and you were a growing girl, hormones imbalanced and thoughts as confusing as ever. it was normal, completely ordinary to feel as nervous as you did whenever his hand so much brushed against yours, or whenever he’d barely glance your way to offer a small, teasing smile.

it meant nothing, of course. you were just a young girl, sixteen, desperate to lose yourself in some sort of fantasy. a silly crush on your brother’s best friend was nothing strange, and definitely inevitable.

it would go away.

you’re eighteen when the feelings don’t go away, and when they begin reshaping into more— impure thoughts. the more you see of him, the more hyperaware you grow of everything that he is. suddenly your eyes easily find the small strip of skin revealed when he stretches his arms up, and suddenly you can’t help but constantly think about the way he sits, legs spread so wide as if to... accommodate something. suddenly your thoughts always find their way back to the way he’d hugged you goodbye, arms squeezing you so tight to him, allowing you to feel every ridge and ripple of his muscles, and the way he had ruffled your hair and his hand, so large, so easily sinking into the strands— and you’re left wondering what else his fingers could do in your hair, to the rest of your body—

it’s bad. it’s really bad. every day you try and convince yourself it’s innocent, and every night you prove yourself wrong when you find yourself on your stomach, face buried in your pillow and teeth biting down on it, mouth dampening the cloth as your fingers rub harshly at your clit and sink into your dripping cunt— all with his name falling off your tongue as you heave and cry. every night you think about how much thicker his fingers are in comparison to yours, how much longer, how they’d feel inside of you, curling within you. you know he’s dexterous, insanely good with his hands. you’ve seen the way his fingers fly across a keyboard or tap urgently at a gaming console. you know it, and it in no way helps in calming your frustration.

it’s bad, of course, but you live with it. after all, he is in every way off limits. a lot older than you, and much more experienced, suna would have to lose his mind before he ever thinks of you the way you think of him. what would a girl like you have to offer a guy like him anyways? your shaky hands and clumsy mouth? your tight cunt that can barely fit two of your fingers? you’d only leave him unsatisfied, and leave yourself utterly humiliated.

worst of all, however, you can’t imagine how devastated, how betrayed, your brother would be if he’d caught you fooling around with his best friend.

so although you’re yearning to say fuck all and fuck him, you don’t, because it doesn’t make sense in the slightest for you to do so. you continue to make due with what shirtless image of him or that time he slept over and went commando, waking up at the same time you had and his — his dick was hard— you could see—

fuck.

you need to grow up.

as you sit with your back to your headboard, your knees bent up and swinging slightly, two simple knock erupt on your bedroom door. it’s late afternoon, the sun’s brightness dimming slightly, casting your room in an orange glow. in all honesty, it’s soothing.

looking up from your phone momentarily, you call out for the person knocking to come in, your eyes returning to your screen once more.

“hey.”

at the sound of the awfully familiar voice, your head snaps back up and you lock your phone, looking up with newfound excitement at the man standing at your doorway. “hi,” you return with a smile, sitting up and crossing your legs.

suna smiles back, walking into your room with one hand tucked behind his back. “your brother said i’d find you here,” he explains, walking towards you.

you quirk a brow, curiously and amusingly smiling as you ask, “whatcha got there?”

he’s quiet for a moment as he walks over to your side of the bed, maneuvering in a way that doesn’t reveal what he has hidden behind him. you twist around on your bed, leaning on your knees to face him properly, and it’s just when you lift up slightly to settle comfortably that he leans down, bends over to get close enough to whisper, “happy birthday, pretty girl.” he gives you not another moment to process how close his face is — how close his lips are to yours — before the hand behind his back comes around between you.

tucked in his hand is a medium sized bag, not related to any sort of brand, so you assume it’s a simple bag he’d gotten from a convenience store. that would really only mean one thing— that he’s gotten you more than just one gift. you can’t see what’s in it since there are colorful papers stacked within it, obstructing your view, but you’re still flustered at the mere thought he’d even considered to buy you a gift. it’s not unusual; suna, every year on your birthday, has gotten you a gift, yet it’s usually more so a gag gift than anything. some inside joke of yours, maybe he’d pay for your dinner, things like that. never a full on, thought out gift.

“you didn’t have to,” you say, settling back down on your knees and hesitantly taking the bag from him.

he waves you off, disagreeing. “course i did; you’re nineteen now.”

you roll your eyes. “wouldn’t eighteen be more special?”

“fine,” he decides, playfully taking the bag from your grasp and pulling it to him. “guess i’ll just give this to someone else then— maybe your mom—“

“suna!”

at your reaction, he laughs boisterously, and against all odds, you find yourself smiling too. quickly, you reach out for the bag again, pulling it back to you.

“open it when you’re alone,” he disclaims, almost as if in warning.

warily, you eye the bag.

“sure.”

you try to be quieter when unboxing suna’s gift, but the paper’s scrunching is just so damn loud. after cursing it out, you finally rid the bag of its first layer of paper, and are met with a scented candle and some lotion. basic, expected. there‘s a card there too, and when you open it, there’s a note in his messy handwriting, reading out a simple happy birthday— and a good couple of yens too. money, a candle, lotion.

so basic.

there’s still more paper beneath, but you don’t expect it to be for anything except decoration, not for—

what the fuck.

What The Fuck?

your two hands dip into the bag, reaching out for the final gift, grabbing it by its straps and—

holy shit, he got you lingerie.

it’s so— sheer? you don’t think an inch of you will be properly covered, even with the lingerie on. it’s properly transparent, with only the intricate lace designs to modestly cover you. when you dig into the bag, you find the panties to match the bra and— well, it’s pretty, you can’t lie. there are dark, almost flowerlike designs all over, and it’s a deep black, nearly blue or green. there’s also a garter belt, but there aren’t any stockings in the bag to attach to the clips. maybe he’d expected you to take care of that?— ah no, you stand corrected. there are stockings.

fuck, he thought of everything didn’t he?

but more importantly, what the fuck does all of this mean?

burying the lingerie deep inside the bag again, and making sure to cover it up with the paper, thoroughly, you place the other gifts and the card back in and on top, before putting it aside on your bed.

and now, to gather your fucking thoughts.

you had to text him to thank him for the gift, obviously. but there was no way he’d accidentally misplaced the lingerie there. it was deliberately placed, with the way it was folded and tucked neatly, underneath an extra layer of paper above and beneath it? yeah, definitely on purpose. but— why? had he taken notice of your feelings towards him? was this his way of making fun or... reassuring you they were mutual?

god, what the hell are you thinking.

snatching your phone from your bedside table, you check the time.

2:01 a.m.

okay, everyone‘s bound to be asleep by now. hopefully. you eye the bag, so cautiously one would assume there’s some sort of killing machine within it. you contemplate. shake your head. no. the gears twist. yes.

no.

yes. no. yes. no—

fuck it, it’s yours anyways, isn’t it?

you snatch it loudly, rushing off to lock your bedroom door, then rushing to close the blinds, tightly, surely, then rushing to turn the lights off and turning the small lamp by your bedside on instead. what else are you meant to do with lingerie other than, well, put it on? it’s rational, you think, obvious.

it’s fine.

stealing one last, deep breathe, you dump the contents of the bag again, and pick out the lingerie.

it fits.

it fits perfectly.

the bra is snug against your chest, pushing at your breasts but not digging in uncomfortably. your nipples peak through what‘s revealed of the mesh, and when they stand perky and hard, you blame it on the fact that you‘re half naked. the garter belt wraps tightly around your waist, not squeezing to the point of discomfort and pain, but not loose that it’s a nuisance, and the clips that hang from it are attached to a pair of stockings that stop mid thigh, squeezing at the flesh. finally, a pair of panties rest on your cups, cupping your ass perfectly. it too is sheer, and god— you can see so much of you.

is this— what he would‘ve wanted?

you can’t deny that you do look good. it shows your figure off appealingly, and coupled with some dark lipstick, your messy hair, and the slightest smudge to your day’s eyeliner— would— would he have wanted you like this? all dolled up for him?

is this what suna likes?

doubting the fact that you’ll ever have the courage to put this set on again, you grab at your phone, clearing the area before your mirror, then sitting down at the edge of your bed. might as well enjoy it while it lasts, shouldn’t you? posing in the mirror, you appreciate the way you look, the way the dim lighting complements the atmosphere, the way the piece hugs your body and shows you off. you look so good.

so good— for him.

reveling in this surge of confidence, you snap a good amount of pictures, posing differently in each of them, taking them at different angles. your camera roll overflows with them, and as you fall back on the bed, hair splayed out on the mattress, you smile proudly at the pictures.

do you look good enough for him to see?

the thought strikes you suddenly; it tickles at the pit of your stomach, makes your knees bend and your toes curl.

should you?

the messenger app is open at the text messages between you and him before you can think, a picture of you uploaded and ready to send.

should you?

you tuck your lower lip between your teeth, mulling it over anxiously.

no, you most definitely shouldn’t.

quickly, you swipe out of the messenger app, and onto safari. porn it is.

you should‘ve turned the ac on. fuck, it’s hot.

3:10 a.m. 45 minutes since you’d put the lingerie set on and had your mini photoshoot, ten minutes since you’d started masturbating. everything’s still in place except for the garter clips, which have snapped off of your stockings at some point in the past few minutes, but you pay it barely any mind as your legs spread wider, one hand dipped beneath your panties, the other pressing hard against your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet.

it’s not that you generally had a problem keeping down your noises. your home was constantly filled with people, and you’re almost always sexually frustrated at the most inconvenient times. this time, however, it’s different. it’s different because you’re wearing a lingerie set that suna picked out, that suna bought for you, that suna gave you himself. would he have wanted to watch you touch yourself like this, dressed up so pretty? or— would he have wanted to fuck you while—

shit, you’re gonna cum.

you let out a broken moan, bleeding into a desperate son, muffled barely your hand. your fingers fuck into your cunt faster, squelching lowly as you arch your back, pressing your palm harshly against your clit.

“ugh, hngh,” you whine, squeal, wrist aching. “fuck, rin— please—“

you’re so loud, shit, shit, shit.

beside you, your phone dings! loudly, alerting you of a message received, but you can’t stop, not when you’re so close. it dings again, and again, but you continue to ignore, chasing your own high so desperately, faster, faster, faster. the coil tightens, your body tenses, mind hazing over and eyes rolling back— so close, so fucking close.

“well aren’t you a doll.”

your eyes snap open, and you only manage one second to process who the fuck and what the fuck before your hips are trembling and twisting, and your legs are shaking so awfully as your back arches deep. the moment you hear his voice, so deep and clear, looming just by the edge of your bed where you lay spread, fucking yourself, you cum— and you’re convinced you have a humiliation kink. you didn’t cum because you’d simply been close— you came because you heard him catch you.

in your post orgasmic daze, you pant deeply, chest heaving, rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. your fingers pull back from your panties, falling to the bed, sticky and wet, while your other hand falls from from your mouth, drool and spit dripping from the corner of your lips.

“aw, you ruined the set.”

you sigh. “rin.” the way you say his name isn’t in a way that’s calling out for him, but neither are you scolding him nor brushing him off for teasing you. you’re just simply trying to process the fact that he’s here.

“i like it when you call me that,” he admits, and in a second he’s falling over you, hands bracing and steadying him beside your head, keeping himself hovering at a small distance. “why do you always insist on calling me suna?” he wonders, head tilting curiously.

blinking slowly, you breathe in, and out, and ask, “what are you doing here?”

above you, he shrugs. “you were the one that sent me those—”

immediately, you’re pushing him off you, sitting up all too quickly as you reach out for your phone. you shakily unlock it, typing in your password and opening the messenger app. he’s right— shit. you could’ve sworn you’d deleted the photo, because you’d explicitly decided just how stupid sending it would’ve been.

well, look at you now.

“that wasn’t— oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to,” you stutter, turning your body towards him once more, but avoiding his gaze, your body, only barely having just cooled down, heating up once more.

“oh?” he tests. “was it not meant for me?”

“no, i—“

he’s smiling all too wide for him to not be getting off on your embarrassment. at the thought of that, your eyes unintentionally snap up to him, to his crotch, where beneath his sweats is a bulge, and god, it’s like all those nights ago where you’d seen his dick through his sweats and he’s big, he’s so big—

“just where do you think you’re looking?” he sneers, hand all of a sudden gripping your chin, tilting your head back up and forcing you to finally, for the first time, meet his eyes. they’re dark, almost sinister, as they narrowly glare at you, begging you for explanation.

your mind’s no longer clouded over, all pleasure dissipating from your veins, pathetic humiliation replacing it. “i’m sorry,” you mewl, eyes tearing up at the look on his face. of course he was disgusted. just as your stupid crush on him was natural, so was his reaction. “i’m sorry, please don’t tell anyone,” you beg, lower lip wobbling.

his grip on your chin tightens as he furrows his brows. “tell anyone?” he questions. “about what?”

had he not— heard you?

he says your name, firmly, deeply, in a way that has you stifling your sobs and biting your bottom lip to stop its quivering. patiently, you wait for him to speak, to say anything, until finally, he asks, “do you want me to fuck you?” and your heart stops. “yeah?” he continues, his other hand reaching for your wrist, your hand, the same one that’s still sticky with the evidence of you. slowly, as he brings his lips closer to yours, fingers slipping so that he’s squishing your cheeks tightly, he leads your hand to his crotch, to where his dick is painfully hard beneath his sweats. your initial touch is featherlight, and he doesn’t fully press your hand to his clothed cock, but still, just the smallest, tiniest feel of him has the lust in your veins thrumming alive. “you think you’d look pretty—” he pauses, lips hovering by yours, eyes searching for any sign of hesitance or resistance, “sitting on my cock?”

“i’m sorry,” you apologize again, but he swallows it by finally, finally, pressing his lips to yours. his lips are so soft, softer than you’d imagined and fantasized a thousand times over, as they press against yours, managing to pull the softest moan of surprise and pleasure from you. you’d forgotten, in your moment of shame, just how much you’d craved suna rintarō. just how often you thought about him, those same fingers gripping your chin to be buried inside of you, those pretty lips sucking on your tits and clit. “want you so bad,” you hiccup, kissing him back. “so bad.”

he hums, amused, pulling back. licking his lips with a grin, as if tasting you, his hands leave you entirely, reaching for the hem of his shirt as he lifts it up, freeing himself of the piece of clothing. “don’t you think i know, sweetheart?” he teases, daringly. at the sight of your eyes widening, he nods with a dramatized serious expression, tutting as he adds, “so dirty, thinkin’ ‘bout me like that.”

you whine again, hands lifting up to obstruct your face from his view as you fall back on the bed, body bouncing slightly. “stop,” you plead, not for him to pull back but for him to stop reminding you of just how wrong it is to feel the way you do. still, you spread your sticky thighs for him when he presses his hands to your knees, and you shiver at the feel of his fingers tickling at your skin. “i’m sorry.”

“that’s okay, pretty girl,” he reassures you, faux sweetness dripping like honey off his tongue. he leans in, carefully slow, hands following the curve of his body and yours. “i want you too.” he smiles mischievously, leaning close once more. “so bad,” he mimics you, lips hovering right above yours before he kisses you once more. you want to pinch his arm for outright mocking you, because really, how infuriating can he be? but it’s impossible to want to do anything but desire him in every possible way at the moment, especially when he presses himself harder against you, hips slotting between your legs and clothed cock brushing against your dripping panties.

“rin,” you plead, hands clawing at his back, grasping at his shoulders. god, his skin is so warm.

“yes?” he drawls, wet lips kissing the corner of your mouth, trailing easily to your jaw, and down to your neck. patiently, he waits for you to speak.

with a trembling voice, you ask, “be quick. please.”

a little stunned, suna pauses his ministrations at your neck, but it’s barely for a second. because moments later, he’s grinning sinisterly into the crook of your neck, sucking hotly as he replies, “sure thing.”

you do want to take your time. you want him to stuff his face between your legs and sink his fingers so deep inside of you. you want him to force your mouth down on him, want to bury your face in your lap till you’re choking and gagging on his cock. you want him to take his time stretching you for his cock before he sinks inside of you, letting you feel every single inch and ridge of his dick until he bottoms out. you wish. you wish.

but you’re desperate, and needy, and frustrated, and most of all, you’re not even sure if this is real. you’re scared to blink and have him disappear all of a sudden. you’re scared to wake up with soaked panties and no gift from suna, no suna above you, hard cock pressing against your cunt, only the same suna from all these past years, the same suna you pine over at a distance, wanting but never having.

so you whimper so quietly, “be quick,” again, because he’s still too slow for your liking.

his fingers grasp the sides of your panties, pulling as quick as he can, sliding them down your thighs, watching as the cloth rolls at the urgency as it slides past your knees, your shins, your ankles, legs lifted high up. at the final loop around your right ankle, as suna flings it off, he kisses at your ankle, gripping it tightly and using it to spread your legs.

as your legs spread, your pussy, soaking from both your past orgasm and this unbelievable build up, spreads too, glistening and dripping for him. his eyes easily fall to it, and, with that same glint in his eyes, he grins, and licks his lips again. “wish i could have a taste,” he admits to you, shuffling closer and bending your legs closer to your chest with one hand. the other hand frantically pushes at the hem of his sweatpants, tugging it low, beneath his balls. “god, i’d have you sit on my face for hours.”

he’s going to kill you.

he’s going to fucking kill you.

at his words, your cunt pulsates and clenches tightly, hole glistening as you moan. you hope he doesn’t notice, but he does, somehow, and he laughs, too fucking loud. “you liked that, hm? bet you’d look so cute,” he spurs you on, and your entire body trembles.

you wish to say something, to find the courage to belittle him, degrade him, remind him that if you’re in the wrong for wanting this then so is he, but it’s so hard to find your voice. it’s like he’s stupefied you completely, reduced you to this dumb, wordless, horny mess. god, fuck, it’s embarrassing. you can only watch with wide, tearful eyes and quivering lips and trembling legs as he spits on his hand and fists his cock, quickly, getting himself all nice and slick for you. his cock is— he’s so big, fuck. if you’d been shocked feeling him beneath his sweats, well, your entire body’s rigid with anticipation now.

just as promised, suna’s quick. with one hand pressing and steadying firmly at your lower stomach, right by your hip, he guides his cock to your cunt with the other, wasting no time by pushing in. no way, no way, no fucking way.

how is he fitting?

“ease up,” he orders sharply, forcing more of himself inside of you.

in response, you bring both hands up to your mouth, clasping them tightly above your lips. you remaining quiet is as impossible as ever, with the way he’s stretching you so wide for him, so you press down harder with your hands and throw your head back as he sinks in deeper, and deeper.

“aren’t a good girl?” he praises sweetly, his other hand mirroring the one on your hip. he watches as you lower your head again, lifting it up slightly to look between the two of you at where he’s fully bottomed out, buried deep inside of you. “feel good?” he wonders, even if he knows the answer. your head falls back again and you nod with your eyes squeezing shut. “feel so full, yeah?” you’re glad he’s speaking for you, because you doubt you could find your voice at the moment, even if you tried.

you nod again instead, urgently, just as he pulls out until only his tip remains inside of you, before pressing back in quickly, thrusting into you suddenly. the sight of him above you is better than anything your mind has ever made up, hands squeezing at your hips tightly, both ensuring you keep your legs spread for him and keeping himself up, steadying himself as he fucks into you. his arms bulge and the muscles in his abdomen tighten and tense with every thrust. his chest, so flushed red; his hair, a little sweaty, a little messy; his brows, furrowed deep in concentration; his lips, wet and red, so fucking red, his tongue jutting out slightly as he picks up the pace, as he thrusts faster, harder.

and best of all: the noises he makes. he’s shameless, fucking into you with abandon, moaning and grunting and whining for you, like he’d been the one yearning, pining, and not you. and, you suppose, with the way he’s fucking into you right now, that there might’ve been some truth in his words, that he’s wanted you just as bad, that this wasn’t some pity fuck— poor little girl, his best friend’s sister, sending him lewd and inappropriate photos because she’s so desperate, she can’t help but lust after him, every single day.

his hands squeeze even tighter and he grunts, gritting his teeth sharply. “fuck, m’already close,” he grunts, and somehow, that makes your heart swell, pride deepening. “cunt’s so fucking tight, shit.” you’re making him say those words, you’re going to make him cum so quick, it’s you. you.

when his hands crawl up to your breasts, squeezing and kneading through the bra, your hands fall to his forearms, gripping so tightly and digging your nails into his skin. “please, please, please, cum inside,” you beg, trying to be as quiet as you can. “please rin, please.”

the bed creaks with the effort and speed of his thrusts, your body bouncing as his cock fucks deep into your cunt. his head bows in, smooth hair swinging forward as he curses. “are you— hm..hngh—sure?” he asks, and you nod so rapidly you feel dizzy, arching your back as much as you can to get him deeper inside of you. he’s a mess of curses and pants as he fucks you even faster, one hand remaining at your breast, grasping tightly, the other lowering to your wet clit, rubbing furiously, messily, clumsily.

no words are exchanged as he desperately circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers, squeezing and kneading your breast as he angles his hips, trying to get you to cum before he does. and just as as before, just as he’d caught you earlier, your body starts to tense up, shaking in anticipation as your orgasm draws closer and closer.

but there’s something— different.

“rin!” you yell out, still half-whispering in an attempt to keep quiet. your eyes well up as you call out for him again, your orgasm unbearably close. “rin, feels weird— oh m—”

he only just barely manages to shove his hand against your face before you’re screaming, throat aching and scratching as you thrash beneath him. around his cock, your cunt spams and clenches down tightly, cum splashing and spraying all over his lower stomach and past his cock to his balls. you’re still thrashing, still squealing and screaming, and he’s spilling inside of you, filling you up impossibly, his cum splashing and dripping as it mixes with yours.

“holy shit,” he breathlessly marvels, hips still rocking and grinding against yours as he helps the both of you ride out your highs. “you ever—“ he steals in a breath, steadying himself slightly, “—cum this hard?”

you’re sobbing, hiccuping and mewling and whining and crying, your body impossibly sensitive. tears stream freely down your cheeks as you sink into the mattress, feeling quite literally like jelly. slowly, suna pulls his cock out, trying not to get distracted by the way your cunt squeezes out some of his cum, and instead focuses on you, his hands cupping your cheeks softly.

“hey, hey, eyes on me,” he encourages, kneeling above you as his thumbs brush at your tears.

“m’sorry, ri— suna,” you heave, hands grasping his as your eyes water again, fresh tears joining ones that are yet to dry.

“what for, sweet thing?” he asks gently. when you start to lift yourself up, he leans back, sitting on your bed, giving you space to get comfortable. he watches with worried eyes as you furiously rub at your eyes with your palms and the back of your hands, as the tears never stop flowing. shit, did he fuck up somehow? he calls your name again, cautiously reaching out for you. when you don’t reject his touch, his heart settles, just a little. “tell me what’s wrong?” he offers again, and you sniffle.

“are you not disgusted?” you ask, voice wobbly and cracking.

his brows furrow, and he cocks his head. “because you... squirted?”

you slap at his arm with a roll of your eyes. “no, suna.”

“when did i lose my first name privileges?” he asks, dramatically shocked. again, you roll your eyes. well, at least the tears have ceased. softening slightly, suna sighs. he’s shit at this. he’s worse than shit at this. talking in general? awful. talking about his or someone else’s feelings? he’s sure the devil would be better comfort. still, he can’t just— leave you. he’s sure that would make things a thousand times worse.

and honestly, neither does he want to leave you.

“i can’t read your mind, pretty girl,” he reminds you, and momentarily, you look away.

until you inhale sharply, and meet his eyes again. “it’s okay...” you begin, trailing off as you attempt to gather your words, before continuing, “that i feel this way for you?”

at your words, at the much needed clarity, suna sighs in relief. so that was it. “more than okay,” he promises you.

you nod in understanding, before prodding further, “not weird?”

he thinks it over, before answering. if he’s honest with himself, the most he’d felt with you was sexual attraction. he liked the way your tits bounced when you ran to greet him or the press of your ass against his crotch when you passed by him to get somewhere. he liked— he liked thinking about your body, your lips, your hands. it’s why he sent you that lingerie set, the one that sits so pretty on your body right now. not that he’d been expecting you to send him anything, and he’d even anticipated that you might feel disgusted, might throw it in his face and slap him too. but he knew you better. suna was observant. he knew more than he let on, more than anyone could imagine. if he hadn’t realized your eyes on him in the past years, he must be blind.

still, he’s not sure if it was ever more, or if it is more. but, he supposes, it’s not an unimaginable feat. he thinks that maybe, there is a chance. he likes you, sure; you make his belly twist and his heart jump. but is he going to risk leading you on?

he doesn’t know.

he settles for, “good weird.”

your face is the definition of a question mark. “what the hell is good weird?”

“your face is good weird,” he retorts. it’s a bad comeback, terrible actually, but his face is flushing a dark red, and he needs to get away. you’re flustering him and it’s pissing him off.

“that’s so mean!”

yeah, the devil would’ve been better comfort. he wasn’t around though, so he made sure suna had been sleeping over that night instead.

worked in your favor didn’t it?

end note; my godddddfhksfhbskjbsb ,,, sorry if you found mistakes this took me all day and im not assed to proofread <//3 but i hope you liked regardless!!

#suna #suna smut #suna rintarou smut #suna x reader #haikyuu smut #suna rintarou x reader #rintarou smut #suna rintaro smut #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #hq smut #sal's thirst tag <3

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

Text

[buckle up; this one is a long one (1.6k words)]

things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

she was supposed to show up, apologize “sincerely,” and the boys, her boys, were supposed to welcome her with open arms and swiftly discard of you.

instead, she was sitting in the back of a cramped police car with two pigs, one of which had a horrible b.o. problem and an affinity for sauerkraut.

it was so frustrating.

and, of course, it was all your fault.

you’d been blocking her from true happiness ever since the beginning when you’d first met in middle school. it was crazy because you’d actually seemed nice; kind, understanding, and you didn’t judge her for what her father did to her mother or for how she acted out because of that.

sure, you were a little weird and sometimes you could be downright rude to other kids in your class but you cared for her in a way that no one else had before.

(un)fortunately, you didn’t come alone — you were a packaged deal. your childhood friend, daishou, came into her life right along with you. she didn’t mind at first; daishou was fun when he wanted to be but he was mostly full of snarky comments and sarcastic quips.

the three of you spent all your time with each other; from playing at the playground to helping her begin her makeup youtube channel in 8th grade.

you all got along pretty well up until you got to highschool. once there, you threw yourself into your studies, sort of retracting yourself from her and daishou.

how selfish.

she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by you—you knew how bad she was at making friends and you didn’t even care, leaving her all alone to fend for herself.

well, not all by herself.

daishou was a constant. no matter where she was, or how alone she was feeling, he was there to provide entertainment at the most, and his presence at the least.

it wasn’t always the healthiest, most functional friendship, she could admit that. there were weeks that daishou would choose to ignore her for no apparent rhyme or reason, citing his explanation as he just didn’t feel like it.

obviously it sucked but he was her only friend, ever since you so cruelly abandoned them. i mean, you still ate lunch with them every day and invited them over to study and hang out, but it was not the same.

with you so absent, she grew closer and closer to daishou to the point she was spending almost every waking moment with him. and, as the story so goes, she fell for him, head over heels.

she knew it was a bad idea, if their friendship was anything to go off of but she didn’t care. she was desperate for love and physical affection and he seemed willing to at least give her the latter.

after she decided to confess, nerves all the way in her throat and a box of chocolates behind her back, daishou took her virginity in the back of his ford fusion, hard, fast and nothing like she’d imagined.

the next day, she’d cornered you in the library (where you always seemed to be) to tell you the good news. your face was unusually blank as she detailed the best night of her life to you, your response being less than stellar when she was done. “please be careful,” you had said.

what did that even mean? you clearly wanted to keep daishou safe from her which was ridiculous because weren’t you supposed to be her friend too? she’d stormed out of the library after that, determined to demand a kiss from daishou to make her feel better.

that day was one of the last that she’d see you for a while. you got caught up with clubs and schoolwork (and apparently therapy for god knows what) while she got caught up with daishou.

things with him weren’t... great. they never really were but things were getting even worse. his random bouts of silence got longer and though it was only freshman year and they’d been dating for less than 5 months, he’d meet with her after school with a hickey plastered on his collarbone that she knew she didn’t put there (she sucked even harder over the spot to claim it as her own).

as she said, things weren’t great but they weren’t horrible either. they remained that way all the way up until sophomore year.

you and her had drifted even further, hardly speaking to one another unless it was for a project or to vaguely greet one another in the halls. it was okay though. you had all your other friends and she... well she had daishou.

speaking of, her “boyfriend” had been more distant than usual. she wasn’t an idiot and she knew he’d been seeing other girls on the side, but she believed she would be the one he’d end up with, the one he’d marry.

how foolish she had been.

it was prom night and she felt beautiful. her beauty channel had finally begun picking up traction (she’d just hit 13k subscribers the night before!!) so she filmed a prom night makeup tutorial, making sure that every square inch of her face was perfect. donning a silky blue floor length dress, she felt like a princess and she certainly looked the part.

she showed up to daishou’s house about 30 minutes before the event, ringing his doorbell with an elated grin painted all over her face. he had mentioned in passing that his parents and older sister would be out for the weekend, leaving the house for themselves. that meant sex and sex meant being wanted.

after the third ring of the bell, she started to get nervous. maybe he wasn’t ready yet? maybe he needed help with his tie? just when she was about to wring the bell again, the door swung open to reveal daishou... not in his suit.

“oh, it’s you,” he’d grumbled. “‘m not goin’ to prom.” she felt her breath catch in her throat. she’d protested and begged for an explanation but he wouldn’t give one to her. eventually, she’d followed him into his house, furious because how could he do this to her? on her night?

it didn’t take very long for him to get fed up, his snake-like eyes honing in on her, filled with venom. “‘m not goin’ because i don’t like you anymore. you still look pretty though.”

just like that, with just a few words, he’d shattered her heart. she was frozen in place, completely disconnected from daishou, her love, as he not-so-gently pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.

she felt tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, her legs were carrying her to a place she hadn’t been in months.

banging frantically on the door, she cried out, begging for someone, anyone to hear her. the door opened quickly and there you stood. you’d clearly been studying but as you took in her frazzled appearance, it seemed as though your heart broke.

you ushered her inside, sat her own the couch, and began to make her a cup of tea, your parents having been out for the night as well. once the kettle went off, you quickly prepped her drink and gave it to her, the words flowing out of her like liquid once she had taken a sip.

she didn’t know why she was even there but despite the animosity between the two of you, you seemed like you truly... cared. (neither of you mentioned the tears that stained your favorite t shirt or the quiet apologies you muttered into her hair).

that night quickly went and passed and by the next day, she was feeling rejuvenated and more like herself. however, that feeling quickly dissipated when she caught you in the hallway between classes speaking with daishou behind the stairwell in hushed tones.

within the span of a few hours, her heart had been broken twice and she was sure she’d never felt such heartache before.

she turned on her heel and darted away, avoiding your every attempt to talk to her for weeks and weeks until you just... stopped trying. after you’d cut off conversation, yet again, the sadness quickly festered and morphed into anger.

that anger only grew when she watched you graduate at the top of your class in your senior year, your smile blinding as you accepted your diploma. it only grew when she saw that you had made it into the university of your choice on your instagram story, her own rejection letter torn up in the bottom of her wastebin. it only grew when she saw you’d made your own youtube channel, her own going untouched and neglected (her last video had been a half-assed “get ready with me” that had more dislikes than likes due to her horrible makeup and even worse attitude).

soon enough, the rage had intensified until it had taken over her whole being. she was just so angry at all that you’d done to her, all the ways you’d ruined her life that she couldn’t keep herself from plotting your demise.

when she got the email from the hyper house management team that invited her into the house and offered the option that she could pick someone she wanted to move in as well, her anger turned into excitement.

this was her chance. this was her moment to turn your life into a living hell, to make it at least a fraction of what she went through by your hands.

she was going to make you pay and god, was it going to feel great.

the metal of the handcuffs chafed her wrists as she adjusted herself against the cool leather of the cruiser, the discomfort removing her from her reverie.

yeah, right. it seemed as though she was the only one “paying” right about now.

she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

things definitely weren’t meant to turn out like this. not at all.

℗ poker face

not like this

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OMFG THE BACKSTORY REVEALED I AM SO OVER IT >:(( this took me forever to write and i still wasn’t able to include everything i wanted to so hop over to my asks if you need any clarification!! oh oh && just a reminder, this playlist is from meiko’s perspective so chances are, things didn’t exactly go just like this wink wonk KAJS ANYWAYS DONT FORGET TO FEED ME ILY <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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messers-moony · 3 years ago

Text

Hope | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

A part of growing up means maturing. Maturing means realizing that the world is cruel and unfair. People die every day without a reason or a why. Children are born into this world every day with love or hatred. Growing up, parents tell their kids, “Life isn’t fair”. No one had experience unfairness like Y/n Potter and Remus Lupin.

He was right there. So close, only a few feet from her arms yet so far apart in that wretched woman’s arms who held him like he was the grossest thing she’s ever touched. Those enchanting green eyes that glistened with trauma and pain. The brown hair that started to sprout from his scalp, already messy and untidy.

“No! This isn’t fair!” Y/n wailed as Remus held her tight to his chest, “I’m his biological aunt! Please!”

The Minister of Magic was merciless, “And so is Mrs.Dursley.”

“She’s a muggle! Harry is bound to be a wizard!” Y/n cried in contradiction; the feeling to vomit became relentless, “They’ll torture him. Please, you have to let me have him.”

“With your current living situation, it isn’t safe, Mrs.Lupin.”

Remus grimaced at those words, “My current living situation? Are you daft!?”

“With Mr.Lupins…” The Minister pondered, “condition, it isn’t safe for him.”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt him.” Y/n sobbed quietly, “He’s never hurt me!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Lupin, but Harry Potter is the safest with Mrs. and Mr. Dursley.”

The gavel was hit upon another circle of wood, adjourning the meeting as a finality. This was it. The fight was over. Harry Potter would grow up in an unloving household that wouldn’t be capable of understanding his magic. This was the epitome of unfairness. Remus’ hands were on her waist, her back to his chest while she sobbed, trying to get him to release her.

Eventually, she collapsed to a heap on the floor. Petunia and Vernon, each holding a baby watching the couple. Harry was wailing loudly, and Petunia couldn’t get him to settle down, making Y/n only cry harder. The young boy had just begun babbling nonsense due to Sirius’ hard effort to get him to say “Padfoot”. But it was that day he said his first word.

“Moo-me!” Harry yelped, and Remus could’ve sworn his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, “Moo-me!”

The brunet boy was trying to reach for Remus, and he squirmed for the adult male, but Petunia had a tight grip. Y/n could barely hear the little boy's words over her own sobs. Her body ached and shook with every tear that fell. The silver streams stained her cheeks, and her face was a brilliant rose red.

“Please make it stop….” Y/n muttered as Remus covered her from the other four people in the room, “If he says that one more time, I might not be able to handle it. Remus, help me, please.”

Hearing her so desperate broke his heart more. Remus’ body covered hers entirely in their crouched position. Harry was practically attacking Petunia to let him go, to be in the arms that are familiar to him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t know these people. These people weren’t his parents. Where was daddy? Where was mummy? Where was uncle Sirius and Peter?

What he did know was his aunt and uncle were right in front of him. Uncle Moony and Aunt Y/n. He could feel his aunt's sadness, her frustration, her anger. He could sense his uncle's remorse, desperation, and hopelessness. Why were they feeling this way? Why weren’t they protecting him? Harry so desperately wished he could speak and say, “Help! Save me from these strangers!” But all he could get out was “Moo-mee and Tee” for Moony and Auntie.

Petunia couldn’t handle his squirming any longer and allowed him on the floor. Harry was ecstatic with this new change. The boy crawled to the two adults on the floor. Harry could feel the warmth of their bodies before he tugged at his aunt's sleeve. Harry stared into her e/c irises and his uncle's green eyes. Those eyes he’d remember forever, engraved in his memory to never forget. His aunt collected him into her arms. His head pressed to her chest. Harry’s sobs calmed, now in the arms of familiarity.

The scent of chocolate, ink, and books surrounded him. His nose was barely catching the smell due to it being runny from crying. Petunia and Vernon approached them. Remus was hugging his wife and his best friend's son, protecting them from the outside world. Gently Y/n pulled Harry from her chest, leaving him to stare at his aunt and uncle.

Y/n sniffled and wiped his tears from his cheeks like mum used to do, “Harry, I promise you, I really don’t want to do this.”

His head tilted in confusion as Y/n’s eyes filled with tears again, “I’ll come back for you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“If he’s anything like Prongs, he’ll always have hope.” Remus commented, making Y/n smile.

“That’s what daddy used to do to mummy when she was sad,” Harry thought, “he used to say something to make her smile.”

Despite the soft smile on her face, she had wet trails on her cheeks, “I love you, Harry.”

Y/n kissed his forehead where the lightning scar was placed—hugging him one more time and Remus doing the same as his wife. Harry didn’t understand. Where was he going? Why was auntie Y/n letting him go? Why weren’t they taking him home? Where was mummy and daddy?! So he began to wail again. Petunia picked him up, and the family of four now started to walk out of the room.

She couldn’t even cry anymore. The water that once flowed down her cheeks had stopped. The dam had broken but no longer had water to give. Y/n turned to put her face harshly in Remus’ chest. His arms raked through her hair and rubbed her back. Silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, reaching his jawline and falling into Y/n’s hair.

“That was-“ Y/n hiccuped, “the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I know, darling.” Remus whispered, “He’s got James’ spirit, and that means he won’t lose hope. He’s got Lily’s kindness. Harry will be fine.”

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not the point. He should be with me. Not that horrid woman.”

“I know. But you and I will get through this.” Remus assured, tilting her head to face him, “We’ve gotten through everything else. We can get through this too.”

Solemnly, Y/n nodded. Remus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The room was precise and silent, aside from Y/n’s hiccups. The clicking of a clock could be heard echoing throughout the room. Usually, the sound would bring a sense of solace to Remus but right now, it was a constant reminder that time had gone by. James and Lily were no longer with him. Sirius had betrayed them all, and Peter was dead. Godric, how could this all happen?

Remus flicked his wand from his pocket, apparating them back to their residence. Inside it was cozy and warm. Remus took off Y/n’s coat along with his own as she took a seat on the leather couch. She grabbed her wand, muttering an “Incendio” to start a fire in the fireplace. Her body was curled up, and Remus placed a blanket over her while he went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a pale blue with dark oak flooring. The marble countertops and dark cabinets. A brilliant contrast. He could almost hear James’ laugh from when they were painting it together while also hearing Lily and Y/n’s scolding them for making a big mess. It brought an emptiness to his heart, but he filled the kettle with water, allowing it to boil on the water.

Inside the cabinets laid an assortment of tea. Something James and Lily had bought him as a joke. Remus always made tea no matter the occasion. It was so him. James had seen it at a muggle store Lily had brought him for. He had been dying of laughter in the store just thinking about it. It got laughs around the Christmas tree when Remus unwrapped the decorative paper.

Remus grabbed a tea bag for himself while grabbing cocoa powder from the same cabinet and two mugs from their wedding night. The kettle began making a high pitch noise, and Remus poured the water into both mugs. Placing the tea bag in one cup and a couple of scoops of cocoa powder in the other, mixing them both, adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate and whipped cream. He added honey to his tea.

Mugs in hand, Remus walked to the living room. He placed the cups on the coffee table. Coaxing Y/n to sit up and he set the mug in her hand as she sipped it carefully, not to burn her mouth. Y/n leaned her head on Remus’ shoulder, still holding her mug with both hands. The blanket draped across their laps. Remus had the cup in his right hand, his left arm draped around her shoulders, the pad of his thumb rubbing her shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rem.”

The holidays were hard. Almost too hard for Y/n and Remus to celebrate. But despite their pain, they decorated their house with garland, lights, and knickknacks. The Christmas tree sat in the right of their living room, covered in the beautiful colorful lights. Placed upon the tree were ornaments and tiny pieces of tinsel. Beneath the tree held presents for each other and a little boy.

Y/n stood in front of the tree, staring at it with a longing look. Remus walked behind her, putting his arms around her neck gently. Y/n’s hands instinctively reached for his bicep, rubbing it gently. Remus kissed her cheek and placed his head on top of hers.

“I wanna visit him.”

“Okay.”

Y/n turned to face him, “Okay?”

“What am I gonna tell you?” Remus joked, “No?”

“No. I just- I didn’t expect you to agree so fast.” Y/n replied, and Remus cupped her cheek, “He’s your nephew too. You have a right to see him.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He kissed her forehead, “First Christmas without them….”

“I know.” Y/n said sadly, “It feels strange not to have James jumping around like a child.”

“It feels not having Lily in the kitchen trying to make your mums mince pies.”

Y/n chuckled, “She never got to master them.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure she’s up there trying.” Remus replied, smiling, “You think Peter is trying to steal the batter?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, definitely!” Remus exclaimed, smiling more than he had in months, “That bugger always used to Nick my chocolate at Hogwarts.”

“I dunno how he found my stash every time.”

The couple placed their foreheads on each other’s, closing their eyes, “We miss you, James and Lily.”

“We miss you more than ever.”

Y/n sighed, “I love you guys.”

Christmas morning was dull compared to their regular routine. Y/n was used to having James jump on top of her every Christmas so they can wake up their parents and open presents. Instead, she was woken up with kisses being placed on her neck and shoulder. Y/n turned and was faced with the sleepy face of her husband.

His sandy hair ruffled and on top of the white pillow. Green eyes glazed with a film of sleep. His lips pulled up in an effortless gentle smile. The scars on his face were whiter instead of their usual pale pink. His stubble was growing into full facial hair due to his lack of shaving. Y/n let her hand cup his right cheek, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“You need to shave.”

Remus chuckled, “It’s Christmas, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Merry Christmas, you need to shave?” Y/n corrected with a smile, making him laugh, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

They shared a soft and gentle kiss. His lips taking her bottom one, hers taking his top one. Soft and slow. Gentle and sweet. Pulling apart, their eyes fluttered, focusing on one another. Her eyes were so beautiful. Looking into her eyes, Remus could read an endless amount of stories. The gorgeous e/c. His eyes were evergreen. Holding so much love and adoration. She could read him like a book through his eyes.

Christmas meant eating a good meal and sharing kisses beneath the mistletoe. The couple opened each other’s presents. Y/n earning new books and some of Remus’ old sweaters that she thought he threw away. The last item she received was a maroon and gold jersey. It was her brother's Quidditch Captain jersey from when he played. Remus must’ve found it in the wreckage at Godric’s Hallow.

Remus opened his presents, getting ink, quills, notebooks, and books of his own. Since Remus couldn’t work, he always dreamed of writing a book. At Hogwarts, Remus excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he wanted to write a nonbias textbook for it. Y/n always encouraged his dreams and goals. If anyone could do it, it was him.

Left under the tree were three wrapped boxes meant for the little boy. Remus grabbed a tote bag and placed them inside of it. Y/n gripped his hand tightly as they apparated to Privet Drive. They began walking down the street, sweaters on in the snow, while she grabbed his hand tighter.

“What if- What if he doesn’t recognize me?”

“Y/n, he couldn’t forget you.” Remus assured as they stood outside house four.

Gently Y/n knocked on the door. It was oak wood, and the house appeared to be at least two stories. Remus kept his hand intertwined with hers as his other held the bag with the boy's presents. Footsteps could be heard walking towards the door. Petunia had opened it to be faced with two young adults.

“Mrs. Dursley.” Remus greeted curtly, “May we see Harry?”

Petunia began to ponder and saw the bag of presents in the man's hand, “Sure.”

The woman walked into the hallway and unlocked the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was coaxed out of the storage space, and he turned to the left, where he saw his uncle and aunt. The boy's lips curved into a great big smile. Harry ran into the arms of his aunt, hugging her tightly.

“Auntie!”

Her heart melted, “Hey, mini Prongs.”

Harry turned the male beside her, “Moony!”

Remus wrapped his arms around the little boy and picked him up as they walked inside. The three of them sat in the foyer on the floor. Harry sat between Y/n’s legs, his back to her stomach as Remus sat in front of him. Gently Remus disposed of the bag and placed the presents in front of him.

“Go on, Harry. These are for you from Moony and Auntie.” Remus cooed, and Harry grabbed one, gently ripping the wrapping off.

Inside was a baby stag stuffed animal, which Harry hugged close to his chest, “Your dad's favorite animal was a stag. Thought you might want something to remember him by.” Remus stated, smiling sheepishly.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, daddy.” Y/n replied as Harry smiled up at her.

“Go on. There’s two more for you, baby.” Y/n pointed at the other two boxes, and Harry began unwrapping another.

This was a tinier box, and inside were golden glasses, “You don’t need these just yet, but these were your fathers. I wanted them to be yours.” Y/n informed him as he placed them on top of his nose.

The final box was mini-figures that Harry could play with in his spare time, which he seemed more than grateful for. Harry was giggling and laughing, happy with all his presents. The boy turned in Y/n’s lap, hugging her as tight as he could. Y/n’s hand rested on his back, and she gently kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

“‘Ove you too.” Harry replied, having a hard time pronouncing words.

Next, he hugged Remus, who did the same. He didn’t want to leave Remus’ arms. He always ran hotter than the everyday person. Remus was a personal furnace. It makes sense why a cold young boy didn’t want to let go of the man. Within minutes the young boy was asleep in Remus’ arms.

Petunia came into the hallway an hour later to see Harry soundly asleep in the man's arms, “Excuse me, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/n took Harry from Remus’ arms and gave him to Petunia, “Thank you for letting us see him.”

Petunia took the boy from Y/n’s arms, “Yes.”

She put the boy in his bed under the cupboard, making Y/n frown at his living situation, “Do you- Do you think that Harry could stay with us some weekends?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n muttered, “Thank you again, but we must’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Of course.”

Y/n took Remus’ hand as they walked out of the house. They walked to a safe spot to apparate back home. They both took off their coats and placed them on the coat rack. Y/n went to turn on a movie on their television set while Remus made hot chocolate and snacks. Both of them curled up onto the sofa and fell asleep.

Over the course of the next nine years, Harry has been visited by his aunt and uncle on many different occasions. Birthdays, Christmas’s, Valentine’s Day, Halloween, and sometimes just randomly, but he always looked forward to seeing them. Every time without fail, Harry would always jump in Y/n’s arms no matter how old he got.

The warmth and feeling of being safe in her arms brought a sense of comfort no one seemed compared to. She felt like daddy. His radiate smile, his incredibly warm body, the smoothness of her voice, the glitter in her eyes, her untied hair. Auntie Y/n felt like James. But no matter how hard he tried, she never was dad exactly, but she was auntie. Y/n was his dad's sister, and for now, that’d have to do.

Of course, uncle Moony felt the same. But there were some days he didn’t show up, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry loved sleeping in Remus’ arms when he was a young toddler. The chocolate, ink, and parchment smell always filled his sensitive nose with such a safe feeling. Harry’s favorite time of year was Christmas when Petunia would make hot cocoa, filling the room with its sweet sense. Although he never got a cup of it himself, the smell brought a sense of comfort. As if uncle Moony was embracing him tightly on all sides.

When Harry reached eleven, owls began delivering envelopes to Privet Drive number Four. But it seems that uncle Vernon refused to let him open any of them. He did whatever he had to, blocking the mail slot in the door, burning the letters, even going as extreme to leave the house. Where inevitably Hagrid - gamekeeper - at Hogwarts came to retrieve him and give him the letter.

He couldn’t believe it. He was a wizard! All this time being belittled by Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley, he finally felt special aside from those times with his other family. Harry had a chance to prove himself to be great. To prove himself that he wasn’t just a bug on the ground to be stepped on. Only one thought crossed his mind though.

“I can’t wait to tell aunt Y/n and uncle Moony.”

843 notes · View notes

infinitefandomimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Scarred - Zuko x Reader

WARNINGS: ARGUING, BURN SCARS, ANGST

REQUEST: zuko x reader where the reader is the last one to forgive zuko at the western air temple bc he accidentally hurt her in the crystal catacombs and than zuko goes to her tent, begging for forgiveness and she shows him the scar he gave her and it’s super fluffy:33

"Y/N. . . what do you say?" All eyes landed on you, waiting for your response to Aang's question. However, there was only one pair of eyes in particular you glared back at; and if looks could kill, the recently renounced Fire Nation prince in front of you would've surely met his demise right then. But Zuko knew how to hold himself in front of those who wanted to intimidate him. If there was anything his father taught him, it was that much.

Despite your fiery stare and previous threats from the first time he pleaded for forgiveness that you'd "knock him on his ass" if he ever came near you again, he kept his composure. There was no doubt in his mind you'd stay true to that warning, which is why he made sure to keep enough distance between the two of you.

There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes, so far Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph had agreed to let him join the team, albeit some more hesitantly than others. If everyone else found it in their hearts to forgive and forget, surely you could as well. Wrong.

"No."

You saw the last bit of hope fizzle from his eyes as defeat weighed down on him, causing his shoulders to sink and his head to drop. "I know you don't trust me, I don't blame you. I've done horrible things, hurt you and your friends-"

"You can't even begin to imagine the amount of pain you've caused me!" Your words held a venomous sting, yet your tone was strained, calm almost.

"Y/N," Katara stepped up behind you, her voice was soft. You could barely feel the hand she'd placed on your left shoulder, thick and itchy bandages blocking her attempt at comfort. "I don't like it either, but Aang needs to learn fire bending."

"I really believe he's changed, give him a chance to-"

You cut Aang off, finally breaking your gaze from Zuko to face the young monk. "He's already had too many chances!"

No one could admit that you were wrong, not even Zuko. Because every time he'd faught against your little group of rag-tag heroes, you'd given him a chance. Even while the rest of team avatar faught the exiled prince, you never threw a single blow that wasn't defensive or to save your friends. Instead, you'd offer him a chance to join the right side. Of course, he never accepted, but you saw the benefits of your kindness when he'd began to show a sense of mercy against you. There was something in your head telling you he was more than just a villain.

But that mindset changed when you and the gang faught against him and his sister in the crystal catacombs. When Aang almost died. When he chose the Fire Nation's side. When he'd made sure to leave you a permanent reminder of that day.

After a few moments of tense silence, you let out an impatience scoff. "Leave, Zuko. I gave you my answer, the least you can do is respect it."

Reluctantly, he nodded, mumbling out an apology before turning on his heels. He only got in a few steps before Aang interjected.

"Zuko, stop."

He did, glancing over his shoulder, ready to hear what Aang had to say.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but Zuko is staying. I need need to learn fire bending and he's my only option. I really believe he's changed for the better."

"You don't have to forgive him, but Aang's right, we need him," Sokka added in, to which Toph agreed.

You took in their words, it was obvious they weren't up for debate. You hated that they were right, you all did need Zuko, no matter your current opinion on him.

"Fine," you sighed, looking at Zuko, who was now standing awkwardly with his hands behind his back. "But stay away from me."

Over the next few days, Zuko had somehow managed to gain the complete and utter trust of everyone, even Katara. Everyone except you. Then again, you hadn't had your "life changing field trip with Zuko" that made everyone seemingly forget about everything he'd ever done to them. Field trip or not, earning your trust wasn't going to be that easy. You didn't care how many times he made everybody tea and told cringey jokes.

"Where did you learn to make so many different types of tea?" Aang inquired, causing everyone to look at Zuko, wanting to hear his answer.

Zuko returned to his seat around the fire between Toph and Aang, finally finished handing out small cups of tea. "My uncle, it's his favorite thing to make, he even owned a tea shop at one point."

"You mean the one you betrayed," you deadpanned coldly. You flicked your eyes up from the warm cup of tea in your hands to Zuko, wanting to see his reaction.

His smile faultered, and katara shot a disapproving look at you. For a second you felt guilty, maybe that was too far. He looked genuinely hurt by your comment, but soon another emotion took over his features. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw and sat up straighter.

"Yeah. That one." His tone was one of poorly restrained bitterness, you'd definitely struck a nerve.

You hummed in response, refusing to break eye contact with him, like you were challenging him to say something equally as cold, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a deep breath, just like his uncle taught him.

"I don't get it," He asked, frustrated and fed up with your snarky comments and side eyes. "Everyone else trusts me, why can't you?"

"You really have to ask?"

Katara could feel the tension and awkwardness of the impending argument hanging over everyone. This wasn't the time nor place to be having this conversation.

"I think now would be a good time for another healing session," she interjected, giving you a look that informed you she wasn't exactly asking. With a frustrated huff, you stood up and made your way to your tent, not even waiting for Katara to follow.

You plopped down onto your sleeping bag, sitting with your left side towards the opening.

Katara was there in a few minutes, holding a medium sized bowl of water in her hands. She gently set it down on the ground, taking a seat on your sleeping bag as well, facing your left side.

You tugged your left sleeve down so you could free it. With your shoulder now exposed, she carefully removed the bandages that covered your shoulder and the side of your neck, revealing the red and scarred skin hidden underneath.

"How does it look?" You asked, attempting to ignore the itchy feeling of the fresh air hitting your wound.

"It's healing, slowly" she answered as she conjured the water from the bowl and molded it with her hands. She purified the liquid, causing it it glow. Slowly, she lowered it until the cool water molded over your injured skin. You clenched your teeth and whimpered at the sudden sting the contact made, but then Katara started making circular motions with her hands, beginning the healing process. The stinging pain soon morphed into a comforting cold and relieving sensation.

Katara had done this for you and Aang multiple times since the gang escaped from that wretched crystal catacomb. As much progress as your skin had made in healing, you couldn't seem to wipe the painful memories of how you'd recieved such a wound from your mind. You could remember the events so vividly it was as if they'd happened yesterday.

You were stalling, Zuko and Azula knew that, yet they didn't seem to mind. If anything, Azula enjoyed watching you struggle to give your friends more time. You needed to stall them long enough for Aang to fully enter the avatar state, that's all.

"Come on, Zuko, you know what needs to be done!" Azula coaxed.

"No! You still have a chance Zuko, you can still make this right!" You could see the conflict rising in him as you and Azula tugged at his morals.

There was a moment, a single second where his emotions betrayed him, where you could see how badly he wanted to go with you and the gang. But it was gone just as fast as it came.

"I will kill the avatar and restore my honor, as well as my rightful place beside my father!" He launched into action, sending overpowering blows your way.

He kept you distracted and unable to help your friends long enough for Azula to strike down Aang. Your head snapped towards Katara's screams and you saw him laying there, completely unconscious.

You were distracted, and Zuko impulsively took advantage, sending a blast of orange and red flames towards you.

In all honesty, he expected you to dodge it, you always did without fail. But this time you were too distracted, too concerned with Aang, and he caught you completely off guard. You didn't even realize you were being attacked until the flames painfully scorched your skin.

You let out a horrifying scream as you crumbled to your knees, your shaky hand hovering over your left shoulder as you tried to control your instinct to grab it, knowing it would only hurt worse. You clenched your teeth together, biting back tears as you whipped your head around go see Zuko.

He looked shocked, remorseful even, but that didn't stop anger from edging its way into your glare.

You shuddered at the memory and tried to shake it from your head completely.

"You're all done," Katara said, maneuvering the water back into the bowl. A dull ache returned to your wound, but it felt significantly better than before.

"Thanks, Katara," you mumbled.

"Do you need help rewrapping the bandages?"

You shook your head, preferring to be alone and do the difficult task by yourself. Katara seemed to understand, because she didn't push the issue like she usually would. Instead, she left you with a few words.

"What you said was too far tonight, you should really apologize to Zuko, he is trying you know?"

She didn't wait for a response, not that you planned on giving much of one anyway, but soon you were alone, relishing in the peaceful silence.

But your silence didn't last long, just a few minutes after Katara left there was a whispering voice just outside your tent. It was unmistakable who'd come to visit you, and with great reluctance did you let him in.

"What do you want?" you asked, annoyance filling your voice. You refused to make eye contact with the boy, opting to stare at the mess of tangled bandages in your hands.

Your question was met with silence, that only seemed to worsen your mood. Really? He invades your tent just to ignore your one question? This guy was just unbelievable!

You could feel yourself loosing your temperature once again. "I said, what do you-" Your head snapped up at Zuko, ready to tell him off. But you froze when you saw his gaze, and how it held your figure. His jaw was slack, and his eyes swam as tears pooled at his lash-line. But his eyes never met yours. No, his focus was completely on the uncovered scar that graced your left side.

Your shoulder had taken most of the impact, just shy of being completely colored with a dull red scar. But the wound didn't stop there, covering a decent portion of your shoulder blade. The red marking also stretched up in a jagged stripe, narrowing to a point on the side of your neck, just barely marking your cheek.

You hated how you shuddered under his gaze, and had to look away. Your fingers moving faster as your tried to unravel the tangled bandage. You wanted to cover the burned area as soon as possible.

"I- I did that." It wasn't a question. He spoke purely in matter-of-fact statements, he knew exactly where you'd received your mark from.

"Yeah." You said sharply, picking up the bandage and moving to re-wrap the large wound.

"I . . . I am so sorry-"

"You've said."

Re-wrapping the affected area was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought, especially in your heightened state or frustration. Usually Katara did this part, and you were starting to regret sending her away.

"Please, let me help you," Zuko pleaded, reaching a shaky hand out to grasp at the bandage in your grip. You immediately flinched away from him, the sudden movement sending a sharp pain through your left side.

"Stay away from me!" You bit at him.

Zuko immediately pulled his hand back from you, as if he'd burned you unintentionally for a second time. "I'm sorry," he impulsively spilled out.

"Would you stop saying that? Stop apologizing, nothing is going to make me- ow!" Your own pain cut your sentence short, the sharp pain returning, sending another shock wave up your side at your frustrated movements.

"I'm so- just, please, let me help you and then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

You took a moment to think about the offer, and as much as you didn't want his help, the promise for him to leave is what enticed you to agree. So reluctantly, you handed him the bandages and positioned yourself closer to him, allowing Zuko to access your wound and wrap it with ease.

With slow movements, Zuko began wrapping the burned area. His touch was suprisingly gentle, even more so than Katara's, something you hadn't thought possible. But even with his feather-like touch, your skin still twitched as his fingers and the bandages made contact with the more sensitive areas. Zuko muttered out small apologies each time you flinched, despite your earlier message to stop that. Though the skin had begun the early stages of scarring, it was still sensitive.

"Uh, d-did I ever tell you how I got my scar?" Zuko asked suddenly, not even bothering to look up from his task. You knew what he was doing, he'd been doing things like that since he got here, trying to make small talk with you to cover up the awkward tension. You usually never entertained it, but for some reason tonight you felt intrigued by his question.

"No." You answered shortly, trying your best not to show your growing interest. You'd always been curious about the scar.

"My father gave it to me," he stated, oddly calmly. It was almost mindless the way he told the story as he continued to carefully wrap up your injury. Like the memory had become second nature to tell.

"Oh," you whispered out softly, your mind buzzing with a million different ways to respond to him, yet none of them felt right.

"I spoke out of turn during a meeting, over a general. They wanted to sacrifice an entire division of fire nation soldiers to gain the advantage. But I-," He swallowed thickly. ". . . I thought that was wrong so I spoke up."

You nodded ever so slightly, letting out a soft hum, showing that you were still listening and waiting for him to continue. At this point Zuko had finished wrapping the bandages around your burn, allowing you to turn your body to face him fully.

"My father was furious with my disrepect towards the general. He said that the dispute would need to be resolved with an agni kai, and I accepted. And when the day came I thought I'd be fighting the general I interrupted, but then my father walked out, my agni kai was to be against him."

With each word you felt your heart grow heavier and ache for the boy you swore you hated. You were beginning to question whether you genuinely hated him or if what you truly felt was left over betrayal and anger.

"How old were you?" You finally asked the question that had been bouncing around your head since he began the story.

"Thirteen, not long before I was banished."

You felt yourself boil with anger, but for once it wasn't directed towards the boy in front of you. No, you were furious with the Fire Lord. Who could do that to someone? To a child. Zuko must not have noticed the way your jaw clenched and your fists tightened into balls, because he continued the story as if he hadn't just made your heart drop into your stomach with his answer.

"I didn't want to fight my father, I couldn't. But he took my refusal as another sign of disrespect. I begged for his forgiveness, but he wouldn't hear it. He claimed that I would learn my lesson through suffering. He raised his hand just in front of my face and then he-"

His voice caught in his throat with a crack as he visibly grimaced from the sheer memory of the event. Instinctively, you reached out for his hand, placing yours over top of his much larger one. Now it was his turn to flinch at the sudden contact.

"Zuko, it's okay, you don't have to tell me this, I understand-"

"No! I do! I need you to understand that I never meant to hurt you! I need you to know that the last thing I wanted was for you to feel the same pain I did. After what my father did, I never wanted to inflict that on anyone. I knew that pain and yet I still hurt you . . . the one person who actually believed I could change!"

His hands flew into the air as his frustrated yells of regret were lost to the silent night. He then exasperatedly brought his arms back down and dropped his head into the palms of his hands. His body shook as he took in deep breaths, trying his best not to shed any tears. He was just so frustrated with himself.

"I thought you would dodge it," His muffled whimpers poured out. "You always dodged it."

It was then that you realized how cold you'd been to the boy. You were so caught up in your own hurt and anger, only concerned with making him feel as horrible as you had with your hurtful words. Not once had you considered that he was already kicking himself ten times harder for the pain he'd caused you. He really hadn't meant to hurt you.

And that's when you did something unexpected. In an impulsive attempt to comfort him, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a hug. His breath hitched, obviously shocked by the gesture, his body going stiff.

"I understand now, I forgive you, Zuko."

At those seven words he melted into your embrace, returning it as he wrapped his arms around your figure. His chin now rested on top of your good shoulder, as he was being extra cautious as to not press on your burns.

"And I'm sorry, for what I said about you and your uncle. He'd be proud of you."

His grip on you tighten, mumbling out a 'thank you,' in the process, finally feeling as though he could fully begin healing from all the wrong he'd done.

TAGLIST: @theepartygetsmewetter

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