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just-some-random-blogger · 9 months ago

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I'm not the same person I was one fic ago

Edit: this is extremely long (like twice the length of your fic probably 💀) and unhinged and 75% incoherent but know I mean it all with love

FIRST OF ALL WHEN I STARTED READING THE FIRST LINES I WAS LIKE DAMN THIS IS GOOD then my eyes skimmed back into the a/n and I was like well fuck little to no dialogue 😔😔😔⚰️💀 my brain do be shutting off sometimes when I read little dialogue. Idk it be like that, that's why when I write I'm dialogue heavy (most of the time)

I DIGRESS MY POINT IS

IM NOT THE SAME PERSON I WAS ONE FIC AGO

This is a long ass reblog AND HONESTLY YEAH I DO THINK I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR REQUOTING YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING FIC BACK TO YOU BECAUSE

DAMN

I haven't felt a rush like this in so long.WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE YOU KNOW?! WHY KILL YOURSELF WHEN YOU CAN READ DAEMON FANFICTION ON TUMBLR FOR FREE

✨✨✨✨✨Free real estate✨✨✨✨✨

ig a minute sorry for the shit spamming reblog but you must know I do this out of love because I'm an unemployed fresh grad with no spare change and this is the only way I could ever pay you. I'd give you my hair if you asked I'd go bald for you

Ok this is getting weird

Did I say I really like this already? Idk I'm too lazy to go back and check also if my words/sentences are incoherent 😬 thank you for dealing with it because I will not be going back to check if I spelled and typed everything correctly we die like women

OK WAIT I GOT DISTRACTED I MEANT TO PREFACE THIS BY SAYING I DONT LIKE LIGHT DIALOGUE ON FICS COS IDK SOMETIMES MY BRAIN IS LIKE ENOUGH BACKGROUND GIMME THE ACTION but that's not what happened at all THE CHEMICALS IN MY BRAIN ARE SO ALIVE AND HAPPY WOW NOW I KNOW WHY IVE BEEN SO SAD LATELY ITS BECAUSE I HAVEN'T BEEN READING FICS

Idk it felt daunting and scary to do so ??? And tiring and I almost didn't read this because of that IDK MY BRAIN WAS LIKE DONT DO IT IT WONT BE FUN JUST GO TO A TRIED AND TESTED SOURCE BUT DAMN YOU DA SOURCE MY DEAR I AM A DESERT AND YOU ARE MY OASIS

Maybeeeeeeeeee you're gonna be the one that saves meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhh

Ok that was a long enough preface, in coming my live (not so live) reaction

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

INSANE. AN INSANE OPENING.

Ok another sidenote, im on mobile and I can only add 10 pics 😔😔😔🤚 smh so I would add more mem reactions for you to vividly understand what and how I'm reacting but

🤚IN🤚SANE💅😩😖 literally just the first line, the first sentence.

WHAT SHE SAID WHATTTT 💥💥🎉🎉🤯🤯🤯🤯 THATS SOME BIG BRAIN LEVEL OPENINGS. SUCH A STRONG OPENING DAFAQ 😒 PACK IT UP EINSTEIN LEAVE SAME BRAIN CELLS FOR THE REST OF US. LIKE HUHHHHHH????????

JUST AGAIN THE OASIS TO MY DESERT UGH (you probably don't care but I used this analogy in one of my Kylo Ren fics and 😗☕👌 I ate that up tbh. I miss her. I miss her, who could write 11k shit fics of her favs 😔) IDK IDK JUST RANT I RANT A LOT IN MY FIC REBLOGS BECAUSE 💅💅💅💅 I HAVE NO FRIENDS LMAO AHHAAHHAHAHHA

🤬🤬🤬get used to it because you can't get rid of me.......... lol

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

NO CUZ THIS HADME SCREAAMMINNGGG HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHH SHE REALLY SAID 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 GET IT I GUESS WESTERNERS 🤮 DAFAQ

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

White people

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

RAHHH I DONT EVEN REMEMBER WHAT MY REACTION WAS TO THIS BUT IM WILLING TO BET IT WAS KICKING MY LEGS SCREAMING BLUSHING LIKE A CLOWN

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GIRL BOSS SLAYYYY GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS SLAYYY HER FATHER ATE ok tbh I don't remember my live reaction to this either but something to do with her father. Im pretty sure at this point you had my soul in your hands I was like this kid is great at writing (and I don't mean that in a oh I'm definitely older than you or condescending way but in like a memey 'hey this guy is good' way)

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

NOW I KNOW EXACTLY HOW I REACTED TO THIS. I WAS GIGGLING AND FROTHING INT HE MOUTH OVER HIS AGE LINES COS YEAH YEAH OK IM A LIL BITCH FOR IT HUH WHAT ABOUT IT SUE ME. In fact I was so distracted by it I didn't even realize there was a mention of viserys in this 💀💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚 HAAHHAHAAHAHAHHAH WE LOVE ME SOME GOOD OL ROTTING VISERYS SLANDERHAHHAHAAH IDK EVERYTIME ITS MENTIONED ITS JUST SO FUNNY TO ME LIKE I LOVE TO SEE IT HAHAAHHA

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

AIRYYY LANGUAGE 😩😩😩🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 I LOVE THAT DESCRIPTION. Made me think of elvish/silmarillion/Sindarin lol even though I only know the lotr movies. Also it's such a slay, so fresh and clean to have them not speak the same language. UghHHHH SUCH VIG BRAIN. Also I love the sound of rhoynar. Just the name. No idea what the language sounds like IN FACT I SPENT THE ENTIRE FIC TRYNA GUESS WHAT BONDABIL OR WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT B WORD WAS MEANT

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND RAHHHHHHHH

He got me fucked up when he started teaching her. AND NIT EVEN COMMON TONGUE. HIGH VALYRIAN. ⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️ HIS presumably MOTHER TONGUE BITCH DAFAQ AITE IMMA HEAD OUT IT WAS ZO NICE KNOW ALL OF Y'ALL BYEEEE

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Bro mad that girls be winnin

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS RAHHHH. HER YES AND ERA (altho Ari be problematic) BUT SHE REALLY SAID 😒💅 ???? ITS TRUE???? 😗☕👌 WHAT ABOUT IT

You get no further lessons.

RAHHHHHH

JUST SO CONCISE. SO POWERFUL. AND DAEMON BE MAD AS FUCKKKK. SO PETTYYYYYY 🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮 EWWWWWWWWW MENNNNNN

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

No cuz the speed in which I thought 'oh to be sold of to-' I really had to stop myself. I really had to take a moment and call myself out for THE SPEED the feminism left my body. NAH BUT THEN I WAS LIKE NO FUCK THAT IN THIS ECOMONY?????? IN OUR YEAR OF THE LORD 2024? TO A PRINCE??????? NAH CUZ AT LEAST HER DAD SOLD HER TO A PRINCE 🤚🤚🤚 YEAH IMMA SAY IT OH TO BE SOLD OFF TO A PRINCE IN THIS ECONOMY 😩😩😩✨✨💀💀⚰️⚰️

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

... I forgot again... But slay girlie get that dragon husband yipyip

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

This wasn't my honest reaction but 💀 Daemon kinda dumb for that. BUT YEAH MY HONEST REACTION IS STILL THE SAME WHY THE FUCK DID SHE POKE DAEMON HELLO????? IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS THAT A GOOD IDEA??? LIKE??? HELLO?? I GET HE WAS SCREAMING AT YOU BUT POKING???

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Like you thought you ate with that?? Girl I get punching him, slapping him, SCREAMING BACK but poking????????

Ok your honor I've thought about it and I guess she didn't want to be violent cos hell yeah daemon would knock me out one punch man style but your honor in the moment it was just confusing and a really bad idea I stand by this GIRL

乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ u do I booo ok? I got it 😒☕👌

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

Rip lady rhea Royce, you would have loved women's suffrage

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

ARE WE ABOUT TO KISS RIGHT NOW

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NO CUZ HE WAS LIKE 👹👹👹👹👹👹 IM SO SCARY IM GOING TO PRESS MY FACE REALLY CLOSE TO YOU yes yes irl it would be scary but 😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋 he's such a dummy baby girl

ALSO 👀👀👀👀 TOWARDS RHE BED???

Yes I'm a depraved daemon slut spray me with water all you want HISS HISS

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

RAHHHH OKAY THESE MIGHT BE OUT OF ORDER COS MY CLIPBOARD AND COPY PASTE DOESNT MALFUNTIONS SOMETIMES BUT RAHHHHHHHH YOU GO QUEEN CHEW HIS HEAD OFFF GRRR BARK BARK SHE LIKE ME FR I BARK AND SNARL TOO 😖😖😖😖👹👹👹

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

UGHHHHH RAHHH BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK YOUR HONOR I DONT KNWO WHAG ELSE TO SAY ITS SO DAEMN ITS SO JUICY DELICIOUS HE CAN PUKK MY BUTTRONS OFF ANYTIME IM NOT EVEN SORRY IM JUST SPEKAING M TURHT

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

NO CUZ QUEEN BEHAVIOR. I CANNTO TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I SLAPPED MYSELF IN THE FACE WHIEL I SQUEALED READING THROUGH THIS. IM PRETTY SURE I WAS KNEE DEEP IN DOING THAT BY THIS PART AND SHE REALLY ATE HIM UP WITH THIS. SHE DEVOURRRREDDDD SHEEEE LEFFTTTT HIM GAGGEDD LIKE BITCH YOU MEEANNNNN WHAT I SAID DAORRR 🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 PUT A SOCK IN IT RAGGED RAT

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

youtube

THE CROWD GOES WILDDDDDDDD I CANT BELIEVE IT AHE GIRLBOSSED HERSELF TO THE SUNNNN HES BACKIN UP WITH HIS TALE BETWEEN HIS LEGS 🗣️PACK🗣️🗣️IT🗣️UP🗣️ LIZARD🗣️MAN🗣️

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

NOOOOO CUZZZZ GIGGGLIINGGG IS SUCH A POWER MOVE SHE WAS SO 😩😩😩😩 SO OP FOR THAT WHATTTTTT

Gagged

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

It's me I'm the slut for lip swiping. Fuck. Fuck me. Please I begging you. I'm on my hands and knees. You rlly got daemon goin

And I respect that

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

LAUGHING DAEMON❓BITING DAEMON❓GAGGED READER❓HUSSY READER❓DEAD ME. AND THATS ON PERIOD

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

I hate her (I wish that was me)

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

Your honor I creamed my pants. I WISH I COULD JUST DO VOICE RECORD BECAUSE NO AMOUNT IF TEXT COULD DO THE REACTIONS IM DOING ANY JUSTICE DAFAQ THIS GOT ME CURLING MY FINGERS CURLING MY TOES SCREAMING (silently cos it's the wee hour of the night and I can't be waking up the dead now)

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

SO FUCKING ME

I WILL CONSUME HIM

He pets your hair.

What if this was my last straw

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

🥲STOP😭MAKING💔FUN😔OF😩ME😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡 sroppp it I will cry at you kiss me right now 💔💔💔💔💔

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

BRAT TAME ME I DARE YOU FUCK YOU DAEMON I WILL WHINE I WILL TANTRUM SO HARD I FUCKING HATE YOU CODDLE ME RIGHT NOW I WILL CRYYYYY

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

NO NO NIT DAOR NO NO PLEASE STOP IT I WILL CRY AT YOU

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

SISTER I KNOW IM REDUNDANT BUT IM GAGGED IM SO GAGGED NO CUZ I DOUBT HED GIVE A FUCK AND BE THIS THOUGHTFUL IF THEY SPOKE THE SAME LANGUAGE TBH HES JUST SO KDKSKJDJD FUCK OFF FUCK OFFF

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

😩😩😩😩😩😩😩 finally some fucking food (kisses) I'd use the Gordon meme but I'm saving my meme reactions as I've mentioned

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

Me asf. 10/10 no notes.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

She's so me. Me 🤝 her. We are one exo (it a kpop meme ignore it if u don't know lol. Nah I'll explain just in case it's like their (kpop boy band 'EXO') tagline

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

HAHAHHAAHH NGL I GAGGED MYAELF WITH THIS MEME REACTION. THIS WASNT THE ONE I WAS THINKING OFF BUT YAH SAME. GOD BLESS DONNA. GOD BLESS MERYL

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪YOU CHEEKY FUCKING BASTARD 😡😡😡😡😡 CLEARLY NOT THIS IS WHY MEN DONT DESERVE RIGHTS

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

MEEEEEE ME AS FUCK ME ME ME HAIR PULLING YEARNING WANTING NEEDING DEMANDING I WANT HIM I LOVE HIM MOST ARDENTLY

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

AND I OOP BUT IM NOT COMPLAINING JUST MAYBE A TINY KINDA

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I 'm so jealous of her I'm fucking beefing with a bunch of lines fuck outta here

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

Hey so I'm going to set myself on fire. Cool. Cool. I'm so normal. 100 percent no doubt no doubt

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

I love it here

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

😵wanna😵‍💫die😔so😖fucking😩bad🥲ha👹🤽‍♀️ha🔪

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

I was not the same person I was one fic ago

Bestiary (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Warnings: Heavy smut, not much dialogue. P in V sex. First time.

A/N: Who would have thought the most enthusiastic consent I have ever written with Daemon would be in a fic with nearly no dialogue?

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

As any good hunter, you had watched your prey first, taking notes of his behavior. Only an afternoon was needed to understand you started the race with a disadvantage. His eyes followed Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys and her little daughter, but never lingered on other women.

While you might have lacked the silver hair, you did not lack the wits and charms necessary to be taken in consideration.

You had needed a few days to ready your song, but you had approached him not even a week later. He had been sitting in the library, so you had knocked on the table twice to draw his attention.

Such was the fate of the daughters of powerful men. Sold to other powerful men, old enough to be their fathers, birthing them their own litter of sons and daughters. Sons that would grow up to become powerful men in their own right, daughters that would become pawns to establish dynasties. On and on it went.

No silver hair, no words, but plenty of resources. You had placed the book you had brought with you on the table, and looked at him.

His eyes had lit up with curiosity. He recognized the title. He spoke again, intrigued.

Despite his tone sounding much more auspicious, you had no other option than to shake your head and speak, with a tremulous voice.

“Bodmagho.” It's the only word you know, one that you have prepared especially for this. But just in case your pronunciation is not perfect, you open the book and mimic the gesture of passing the pages.

Daemon looks stunned. He says something else, still in the Common Tongue. You were able to tell from the intonation he was asking a question, but you didn't know what it was about.

“Bodmagho.” You repeated, stubbornly. You placed your book down and pointed to it.

Daemon sighed. He pointed to the chair. You sat, happy as a clam.

“Prince Daemon.” He pointed at himself. Then, to you. “Lady…?”

You told him your name. He nodded.

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

You stared. He shook his head again. You understood that no, daor and shaking head meant the same.

“Daor. No.” You shook your head. Daemon squeezed your shoulder, a proud smile on his face.

Your father told you that afternoon that you were to be married to him. Just as you had made efforts to catch Daemon, your father had been setting his trap.

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

You get no further lessons.

This is how you manage to get to your wedding feast only knowing two words. Teach and no. It makes you the most riveting company, and so, it's no wonder you are soon ushered into a chamber with your new husband.

You had not noticed before, but it is the first time you are alone with him since the morning at the library. To you, it had been a matter of no consequence. You had to marry a powerful man, one day. Your father decided it should be him because he wanted dragons. It was as simple as that.

Your family moved here for that reason. An opportunity to get richer could not be dismissed. Your father had taken one look at the dragons and decided that they were the key to turning his legacy into an empire.

Giant war machines that could level castles in one afternoon. Raze a city to the ground in mere hours. Fire so hot it could melt stone. They could not be bought, you had to be a Targaryen to have them. It was only natural to turn into one, then.

His face is thunderous. You can tell he is about to berate you. He starts talking, brows pinched together and an accusing finger pointed towards you.

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

It was the wrong choice. Daemon's face turns even more murderous. His lips twist into a snarl, teeth bared. His posture turns aggressive. He puffs up his chest, he advances on you. The Prince tries to intimidate you through his body language alone.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

Daemon is terrifying. You will not cross him again, you think to yourself. Only a fool goes around poking dragons with a stick. You feel your palms starting to sweat, a knot forming in your throat. You fight the urge to cry.

The back of your knees hits the mattress, and you fall into the furs with a small noise of surprise. Your husband does not lose any time. He gets right into your face, trying to intimidate you even more.

But if you hope to survive this marriage, to make it work as your father has requested, you can't bend. Daemon will never respect you if you do. He will see you as no more than a frightened girl, who will not disagree with him and serve for little beyond warming his bed. You are not that. You will build an empire, a dynasty out of his dragons and your wealth. The only thing you can do is persevere or break trying.

Daemon scowls at you. He notices the change in your eyes, the fight coming back to you.

“Daor.” You say, staring him down with all your might. It doesn't matter if you are lying down, and he is hovering over you, pinning you under him. You will triumph.

Despite knowing why he is doing it, you can't avoid grimacing. He looks more beast than a man, snarling over you, ripping your clothes. It's a sight that would scare any woman, no matter how cold.

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

It's a balancing act. You will have to bring him to heel, but soothe his pride in the next act, less he turns on you. Push away a man too much, and he will think you are disrespecting him. He will call you names, thinking you are the problem. Daemon feels entitled to you. You need to show him he is not, but that you are giving yourself to him. He needs to value you. The treasure to his dragon.

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

“Daor.” You repeat, grabbing at his shirt to keep him in place. You do not want him to leave.

Daemon wretches free from your grip on his arm. He mutters something, angered.

“Daor.” You use his trick against him, stepping right into his path and forcing him to back off. You use your body to make him advance backwards, toward the bed.

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

“Bodmagho?” You ask him, as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in a sheer shift. Daemon's eyes darken. His expression changes into an amused smile, and he gestures for you to come to him.

You do. You step closer and get on his lap. His hands envelop your waist, warm and calloused.

Then, the unexpected. Daemon grabs your hair and pulls, forcing your head back. You moan, pain and arousal mixing into an unknown emotion that makes the place between your legs slick.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

His hands go to greedily knead at your thighs, slipping under your shift. His palms feel rough against your skin, impatient. The shift rides up, up, up. You mewl against his mouth, desperately reaching for something unknown to you but that you know Daemon will help you reach.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

You kiss him, softly. “Vūjigon”

He pets your hair.

“Vūjigon.” And he points to his collarbones. You frown in confusion, thinking perhaps the word doesn't mean what you think it does. He sighs and leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the space between your collarbones.

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

You don't know how to tell him what you want, so you grab his hand and make him pinch the tender bud again. Daemon smiles. He kisses you, muttering something fervently on your lips.

He lays you down on the bed, despite your attempts to sit up. Daemon pins you down with a growl, hand on your chest.

You can't help it. No matter the warning, you squirm as if you were in pain. It certainly feels like it. There is some sort of hunger in your belly, making you want to rub your core against him. You can feel your shift starting to become wet right above your tailbone. Daemon has you so bothered you are dripping into the shift and the bed.

Daemon gives you another growl and leans down to bite your breast over the fabric of your shift. It's meant to be punishment, but you arch into it, gasping.

He laughs. He takes as much of it as it can fit in his mouth, sucking greedily. The noises are obscene. The sight must be, too. Your mouth, open, moaning yourself into a frenzy. Daemon, nipping, biting, sucking, like a man starved. Your shift with two giant wet spots, one at the chest and the other by your arse.

You moan, surprised at the feeling. You had never thought bodies could be used in such a way before. Nor had you hoped for him to please you so eagerly.

His lips close around your bud. His tongue twirls around it, lavishing it with attention. You grab at his hair, his nape, desperately trying to hold onto something. Daemon just sucks harder on your breast. You moan, and moan, and moan some more. Desperate little sounds, gathering in the air around a desperate girl.

He switches to your other breast. Your shift feels sticky on your skin, so you start trying to take it off. The task distracts you enough for his hand to find its way to your core, and you squeak at the first sensation of his fingers against it.

Another finger joins the first. You cry out. It stings a bit. Daemon shushes you, kissing your cheek. He rubs at something above your opening that makes you squirm in delight.

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

You nod with a pout.

He starts prying you open slowly, this time. Despite enjoying causing pain, it appears your cooperation has granted you privileges with Daemon. He understood the distress on your face, and read you correctly enough to know it was not going to go well if he kept going as he was.

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

You nod again. Daemon moves back, settling himself by your side. He takes your shift away, pressing soft little kisses to each new inch of skin revealed.

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

“Daemon.” You whisper, softly. There is a part of you that is already cringing at the promise of pain the loss of your maidenhead will bring.

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

“Bodmagho.” You grasp at his shoulders, steadying yourself. Daemon lines the two of you. You feel his member at your entrance, holding you open and threatening to spear you apart. It feels scorching against your skin.

He helps you impale yourself on his member. It's not pleasant at first. Property dictates that you should not let him see your discomfort. You should just bear it like a good wife and allow him to chase his pleasure unbothered.

But you know Daemon enjoys causing pain. He thrives on it. So you let your eyes fill with tears, and your face goes slack and overwhelmed.

He smiles. He licks your tears away, and mumbles something. You squeal, and it only excites him more.

“Bodamagho.” Daemon pinches the flesh on your hip, clearly calling you to focus. His hands move your pelvis back and forth, back and forth, until you are hissing in pleasure, your hands on his chest, doing the movement yourself.

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

You are desperate for closeness. You scrunch up your face and wrap your legs around his back. Daemon looks down at you, and bites your shoulder. He is not pleased with your perceived attempt to take control.

Realizing your mistake, you shake your head.

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

His hands, now freed from yours, are everywhere. Twisting your buds, rubbing at your pearl, squeezing your waist. Daemon whispers nonsense in your ears, takes the lobe between his teeth. He aids you, tilting your hips with his hands, reaching deeper.

You heard a story once, about Westeros. A white hart was said to come to the greatest Kings alive. A magnificent beast, tall as a man, with skin made of the purest snow and antlers as long and imposing as the branches of an ancient tree. If a King encountered it, it was a good omen for his rule. It would be just and prosperous, blessed by the Gods.

What did they do with the hart? Keep it in Kingswood, perhaps? You had made the mistake of asking, once. You had been told that they used the best spear they had. That men held the hart down, and they gutted it from head to belly.

The perfect, regal beast, fur as pale as snow. The pristine white sheets under you. Blood tainting the white. What a way to go.

You did not care if you burned, moth to a flame, maiden to a dragon. Daemon seemed to realize it because his hand went to rub at your pearl, and he leaned in.

“….” He was talking, but it was in that strange language of his, and your ears were ringing, you felt about to explode. Your body responded to his tone, though. Gentle, loving, coaxing you over the edge with a scream so fierce you might as well have been one of those weeping women that appeared far north.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

#i am not the same person i was one fic ago #daemon fanfic #daemon smut #im supposed to just move on from this???#damn what the fuck???

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la-principessa-nuova · 25 days ago

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week 1 on my adhd meds felt like i kind of understood what was happening

week 2 i’m just so confused what’s even happening

like i stayed up really late twice in a row and i’m not sure how much or in what way the meds might have contributed to that happening

and then i felt so tired the next day it was really hard to judge much but that’s just from lack of sleep

then i went to bed normal time the next night

but somehow slept through all of my alarms and woke up at 10:30 and ran upstairs for work still half asleep

and nobody said anything about it or asked when i joined the meeting 30 minutes late so 🤷‍♀️ but maybe i just lucked out bc most of the team was out today so things were a little weird anyway

and then i was really easily distracted today because there was this one thing that was really bugging me about the code i was working on that i kept looking into instead of doing what i was supposed to

but then it turned out i uncovered a pretty major issue so idk maybe that was actually a normal thing to get caught up on

but i was like dead tired after work and went straight to lay down in bed but then something happened and my parents needed me to watch the dog so i went and got her and i was feeling a bit more awake by then after getting a break from work

and then i organized my pins and ate dinner but now im so tired again

which is normal and good to be tired at this time i guess but i need to get ready for bed if im doing that now

and also like i’ve been eating way less

which i can certainly afford to

but i think that’s from a thing my therapist suggested

and it basically has completely changed my relationship with food

but i just like feel so thrown off my game

and like who’s life am i even living?

idk

but i make meals and sit down at the table to eat now

and i like it, it turns out

eating is way more enjoyable when you focus on it and take your time

instead of rushing to inhale a frozen pizza so you can use your lunch break to scroll tumblr

i’ve learned a lot about dissociation this week, especially depersonalization, partially from reading about it and partially from hands on experience

and today i did not take care of myself

after running upstairs late to work and demoing what i did yesterday when i worked a little late to the people who needed to see what i did, i went downstairs to use the bathroom, brush my teeth, etc.

i should have just taken an early lunch, but i decided to try finishing that work first so someone who needed my changes to do their work could have it ready.

but i should have brought up a drink, and i didn’t. so after finishing the one i poured last night and brought up with me in the morning, i had nothing all day.

and then i just forgot to go to lunch, and i worked until after 6.

btw i’m supposed to work 9-5 (mostly flexible but i have a meeting at 10 every day), but this week i worked 9:30-9:30, 9:30-6, 10-4, 9:30-6, and 10:30-6.

Part of that was not respecting my own needs over other people’s and pushing while burnt out to get something done that somebody else is waiting on, and part of it was just hyperfocusing on something interesting at the end of the day and suddenly realizing it’s late and I feel so tired I’m not sure I can handle the stairs, sometimes at the same time.

so i found myself at the end of the day having not eaten or drinken anything all day aside from the rest of my water from last night, until i cracked open a can of soda at like 7pm, which i drank over the course of like 2 hours.

so at like 9:30 i had only had that to drink, and i’d eaten some trail mix at some point between work and then, and i still felt all out of sorts

and then i had a very small dinner (not like intentionally trying to eat a small dinner, i just made something small just to get some vegetables in and then after eating it i was like “i guess i’m done eating now”)

and now i’m laying in bed typing this feeling really tired and wanting to just roll over and sleep but i do need to least take my meds and brush my teeth and hopefully have the energy to shower after that

and then i should go to sleep but im like so likely to suddenly be awake

#sabrina is working on herself #adhd meds

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greyvvardenfell · 3 years ago

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👀 somgs for Balam/Yaz, Nurlan/Nazali/Thero anddd for Reydis AND Adam ily 😘

owo

balam/yaz

pardon the way that i stare / there's nothing else to compare / the sight of you leaves me weak / there are no words left to speak

nurlan/nazali/thero

anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost / anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost

reydis

beneath the stains of time / the feelings disappear / you are someone else / i am still right here

adam

just settle down, you're losing the plot / took you a lifetime to get where you got / if i had it all i'd be dead in a week / if i had my way, be king for a day

#thank u 😚❤🥰#otp: the burning coals of poetry #do thero/nura/zali have a ship name yet?#if they do i can't remember it lmao #otp: savoring every ounce of sunlight #reydis brosca #adam hawke #rey answers people #had to type this out twice because tumblr ate it the first time >:[#edit: OH SHIT OH FUCK THAT'S RIGHT #ot3: the world will sing along #where would we be without you andrew hozier-byrne

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 3 years ago

Text

Begrudging Allies (Aaron Hotchner x Trans!Male!Reader)

Summary: Aaron and Y/N's marriage is suitable enough, given that Aaron secretly loves men and Y/N secretly is a man. When the one year anniversary of their amicable nuptials brings forth correspondence from their estranged families, Aaron takes the opportunity to potentially make something more out of their arrangement.

AN: This is one of my entries to the "Enemies 2 Lovers" challenge set by @imagining-in-the-margins on Tumblr!

Reader is trans male and uses he/him pronouns.

WC: 2.4k words

Content Warning: References to era appropriate homophobia/transphobia but nothing actually mentioned. Two dumb fucking gay men trying to flirt.

Photo Credit // Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N L/N were served breakfast together every day they were in the house together. They sat not at opposite ends, but the seat left adjacent to them. That way, they did not have to look at each other whilst they ate. Breakfast was the only meal with which they shared each other’s company. Why make it unbearable first thing in the morning? They read the morning paper - and any post - while eating. Only the scrape of their plates and muted chewing was to be heard before the chairs scraped across the floorboards and both men departed.

Today they both received a note from the L/N household back in their old country.

“I assume your letter reads the same as mine,” Y/N dropped his beside his plate before pushing it further away.

Hotchner raised his eye from the headline that had been mildly entertaining him, “It does.”

In cursive flicks, the usual complaints of their emigration had reached his eyes not moments prior. The closing of his family’s letter however broached a new request: a photograph of the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary, specifically a recreation. The ungrateful bunch, the only remaining wedding photographs of the wedding were in their hands.

“I don’t have the dress,” Y/N scoffed and looked aside. Even from this end of the table, Aaron could see that he was trying to mask his tears from the dawn. The wedding day was the culmination of their greatest shames.

At least Aaron had tried to make the best of it, but there was no relief for Y/N until they were in their separate chambers and free from all betrothment attire.

“Suppose we should arrange for a fitting. Though how we’re going to do that without arousing any suspicion here is beyond me.” “Perhaps we can go north, find a seamstress and a wigmaker there.”

Aaron did not patronise Y/N by pretending he understood his plight. He himself had never pictured himself with a wife; worse was that Y/N had never pictured himself to be a wife.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remain a woman?” He had said after Y/N had confessed during their third arranged rendezvous.

With venom spitting from each syllable, Y/N’s reply was one that he remembered vividly: “I was never a woman to start with.”

They were not friends, they barely spoke, but the enemy of the enemy is a friend. This sentiment made Y/N a begrudging ally.

However it did not make the occasions they had to pretend to be a happily wedded couple any simpler. Y/N did look most becoming in white, but Aaron knew that there was no worse day for Y/N than that day in the church. Any reminder was like a stake through the heart.

“I’ll arrange for the fitting,” Aaron quietly volunteered.

Y/N was quick with a brusque reply, “I can organise my own affairs.”

“Of course, but perhaps it would lighten your load if I took on those responsibilities.” Aaron paused as Y/N pushed aside his breakfast plate, his eggs now making his stomach turn. He used his newspaper as a shield, “And as your husband, I give you permission to dress how you please.”

Y/N blinked then nodded. He did not ever say thank you. That was his problem, Y/N, too proud. Too nervous to admit that he had been graciously allowed to exist like this because of his marriage to Aaron. As if that was ever any part of their agreement, both of them had blackmail worthy material. Y/N just seemed to forget that, or at least he was not the type of individual to dangle Aaron’s secrets before him like a carrot on a stick. Why Y/N thought that Aaron was that type though, he had some idea.

“A member of the bar?” was the response Aaron got from Y/N, disgust thinly veiled, upon their first chaperoned walk through the L/N estate. It must have seemed contradictory later down the line, to be a protector of the laws that criminalised his very own existence. It was not as uncommon as Y/N believed however, and there were much worse laws to break between trials than being attracted to men.

A man of his word, Aaron prepared for a fitting in the comfort of their own home. A friend of theirs was a tailor; accommodations were no economic issue. Of course, this friend did not know either of their secrets, but other than that, he was a companion who would be greeted warmly into their home.

Y/N watched the tailor from the chaise whilst pretending to be interested in a book. His eye would raise itself to see each adjustment made to Aaron’s wedding suit, which he had surprisingly kept – folded in a box at the farthest corner of the house. Then Y/N would go back to the page and reread the top few lines. Every time, Aaron would pretend not to notice. But the jiggle of Y/N’s knee, the absence of progression through the book’s narrative, taught him that Y/N was anticipating this fitting with something more positive than last time.

“All done, thank you, Aaron!” “Y/N, your turn.”

His book snapped shut and Y/N stepped up to the podium. Aaron swapped places with him without acting out the role of an aloof reader. As expected his expression was well disguised as neutral, but Aaron’s practice in law gifted him with a pair of spectacles into the soul. Y/N’s glee of the tape measure taking in his proportions was masked so that only his eyes smiled. Once or twice, the corner of his mouth ticked up, only to iron its creases out when the tailor moved into his eyeline. When asked what colour he would consider, Y/N mulled deliciously his options before selecting a gentle blue. His fingers were cautious but as soon as they touched the royal fabric offered, they fanned out and welcomed it for his new suit.

From the moment they broke apart, his hands were restless. Ticking against his teacup or tapping against his legs were two of their new favourite hobbies. Even when the suit arrived, Y/N could not keep himself still. His beautiful face was scrunched up in the mirror as he attempted for a third time to make the right knot in his cravat. The photographer was waiting for them downstairs.

Aaron sighed and knocked one knuckle to the door, “Allow me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I can do it myself.”

“I know. But this knot will look better.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror, before Y/N turned around and released his tie. His chin pointed parallel to the carpet. His neck was still so as not to drop the breath he was holding. Aaron flicked with the tip of the cravat as his hands slotted it through, his focus on the column of Y/N’s throat, because meeting his gaze now was an impossible feat. They were too close for that. He bent the stalks of his collar into place then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. But that was not at all what he really regarded.

He cleared his throat, “There.”

As Aaron removed his hands, Y/N spun to face his reflection head on. “Adequate. You’ll have to teach me that one.”

Finally, they greeted their photographer, who had set up his camera in their garden. It was a lovely day, not to be wasted inside. At least that’s what the photographer said as he unceremoniously ushered them into place and posed them to his liking. There was no instruction for how to position their faces so Aaron kept his the same as their original wedding portrait.

His plan for relaxed facial features hit a bump in the road. As the photographer ducked beneath his sheet, Y/N snorted. His hand was quick to follow and it clapped over his mouth. The photographer emerged with concerned curiosity. A strand of his combover was standing on end.

“My apologies, there was a tickle in my throat.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head, his feet scuffing one inch’s worth of dirt before he regained composure.

The photographer tried again. Aaron could see, in the corner of his eye, that Y/N’s corners of his mouth weighed down to prevent a break but it was unsuccessful.

“Do forgive me,” He said, his voice quivering, “I remembered a jest from last week. It isn’t even worth the laughter it brings.”

Despite his detractions, Y/N kept guffawing to himself as the photographer kept dodging about his cloth and camera. It spilled from between his pressed lips like an overflowing goblet. Aaron had not heard such delight before. He would describe it as infectious if the joy in Y/N’s notes was comparable to a plague. No, this was intoxicating, a mead he would heartily drink until he too was giddy on the stuff. Y/N, clutching Aaron’s arm to stay standing, almost stumbled as Aaron bent over with equally bashful laughter.

“It would possibly suit you better if you sat,” said the photographer through a faux smile. He then ushered over to one of the benches, the one amidst the tulips, before he wrangled with his camera after them.

Seated on the cool marble, Aaron kept a few inches between himself and Y/N. Their hands took that space but waited to hold hands. Y/N was still shaking but his smile was minute now, replaced by mild embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said. But there was a twitch in his voice, a breath that indicated otherwise.

“No, not at all,” whispered Aaron, his head tilted against the invisible line between them.

Y/N turned, his nose pushing their boundary and almost brushing against Aaron’s cheek when he too turned to face him.

“At long last, we agree.”

Y/N’s lips betrayed him again. A bubble of laughter popped between them, letting out the smallest of smiles. Yet it shone through with such luminosity that it almost outdid the flash of the bulb as their photograph was taken. There was delight at the absence of the melancholy pose that a long exposure wedding portrait promised. Oh, the wonders of new technology.

As was with his new suit, Y/N practically waited by the door for the photographs. His hands were beyond ravenous for them by the time they arrived. They snatched at the envelope and tore with as much care as he could muster, his voice catching in the roof of his mouth as he called for Aaron.

On the chaise together, their knees were brought in close to rest the papers upon. Their faces looked as though they were carved into the paper with charcoal, smudged by an artist’s thumb. That radiant smile among it all was the centre of the photograph. Aaron noted the distance between them was mirrored in their past selves as they sifted through their options.

Then Y/N held aloft the ones for their respective families, “Sit with me while I pen the reply.”

Aaron was not usually welcome in Y/N’s study. Yet, as he pulled up a walnut wood chair with red velvet seat beside the bureau, behind Y/N’s matching one, he felt like he was in place. With anticipation, he watched the most passive aggressive comments that had ever been put to paper. All bar one was spun from Y/N’s inspiration. Aaron had but one to add and it took some convincing for Y/N to put it in his family’s correspondence – he was writing since his writing was far neater. Even so, there were a few loops of the ‘l’s that slanted when Y/N was particularly amused by something that Aaron had commented on.

“There,” Y/N said as he closed the second of two envelopes with crimson wax. As he lifted the seal, he spoke quieter, “Just a thought, nothing more, but I almost wish I could see their faces. Only the first second though.” The seal was placed in his drawer and the letters were left in the centre of the desk while one remaining photograph was selected by Y/N, “I want to keep this. In the drawing room.”

Aaron’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, “You do?”

Y/N nodded once with finality, his broad smile returning, “It’s the first time I was myself in a long time, the best I’ve ever looked! Besides, I am your husband and I say it will stand above the fireplace by the end of the week – once I find a suitable frame.”

He held it up, squinting to imagine what frame might work best with the décor. His chair itching to be closer, Hotch leant over and cupped his hand over Y/N’s so that he could see the photograph too. It stayed there, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Hotchner could have sworn that Y/N’s back slacked and swayed to the right an inch, almost resting against his shoulder beside Aaron’s.

Y/N’s quiet voice was back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You do not have to say thank you.”

“When are you going to stop telling me what to do?”

There was no accusation in it; it was asked as simply as one would ask for another napkin. But Aaron did not quite know how to answer.

“I don’t mean to come across as a drill sergeant,” He said softly.

“Aaron,” Y/N lowered their hands but kept them together beside his lap, “You don’t have to worry about me and what I’m going to do, just like I don’t have to worry about you.”

And what Aaron thought about being ignorant of an answer before, that became a lie. Aaron wanted to worry about Y/N, and he did worry. Not for himself or his identity being exposed, but because he did care for his husband. He didn’t want to worry or have Y/N be worried about control in their home. They should exist as equals, not in blackmail but in respect. Maybe one day, in love.

Aaron settled instead for: “My apologies. And I thank you too. It was the first time I was myself as well.”

Y/N blinked, then avoided his stare. It was a revelation therefore when he laced his fingers with Aaron’s for the briefest of squeeze and replied, “No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure.”

Then the bell tinkled for breakfast and the two men were up on their feet. Y/N was in the dining room first. He sat two away from the head of the table this time. With enough care to drag his chair loudly across the floor, Aaron mirrored that seating, dragging his cutlery and crockery into place. As they were served, Y/N swiped the newspaper before his husband could with a smirk hidden behind the pages. Hotchner poured his coffee and smiled into the brew. He was, for once, thoroughly glad that they had breakfast together.

----> ----> ----> ----> ---->

Tagging

Aaron Hotchner fics: @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #r: male #r: trans male #wc: 2k+#my writing

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snowinthe-south · 2 years ago

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Oh no, the second day. Believe it or not, I had ideas about a second day too. 🤣 I typed a whole post about the Phantom X TWST thing for my own blog but Tumblr ate it. So to sum up the second day...

The production was meant to be a one night only thing, but after the disaster that was Phantom of Twisted Wonderland... the oh so generous Headmage himself offered the students one more chance to get the musical right.

In truth, Crowley only gave them another chance because he was hoping that the theater would get burned down this time and he's could turn it in on insurance. 👀

The Tweels were kicked from production immediately. and Malleus was thrown into the show to take their... places? Place?

Anyways- if I remember correctly, Malleus's VA actually played the Phantom in the Japanese production of Phantom in the past!

Jade was allowed to provide assistance backstage for the duration of production, but Floyd was permanently banned and there were several "DO NOT ALLOW THIS MAN IN" posters stapled around the theatre. Jack is now on guard duty to help keep Floyd out. Floyd had little interest in the entire production from the beginning, but after being told he wasn't allowed back? Well that created interest for him...

Jade did a phenomenal job during the first act on opening night, but Malleus absolutely blows his performance out of the water (pun intended). Yuu visibly swoons every time he's on stage and Octo-Raoul is getting jealous, which actually makes his performance even better!

Because the casting change for the Phantom was such short notice, Malleus had to learn his lines as the performance progressed and was quite upset upon finding out Christine doesn't end up with the Phantom, and by the final song it's like he isn't even acting anymore. Almost everyone in the audience is crying due to the genuineness of his performance. Including Kalim, but why is it different than the opening night? He's confused but intrigued and has the entirety of Scarabia throwing bouquets following the end of each song (and Jamil has to force them to stop because someone smacked Azul with a bouqet of roses and knocked his glasses off). Leona actually stayed awake for the whole show just to heckle Malleus. Floyd managed to break in twice but was promptly thrown out by his brother because Azul threatened to feed them cooked-eel if they did anything to jeopardize the performance like opening night.

The kiss between Phantom and Christine at the end almost caused Sebek to storm on stage and rip Yuu off of Malleus- although had he done so, he would've found that Malleus was the one holding tightly onto Yuu... she eventually exists stage to end the performance.

The only thing missing was the crashing of the chandelier... they decided not to do it on the second night as a safety precaution...

However, the "keep Floyd out" squad let their guard down... and Jade stopped assisting because Azul only told him "keep your brother away until the last song".

You can already tell where I'm going with this...

The curtains begin the close and Floyd suddenly appears SWINGING from the chandelier like his name is Sia, laughing maniacally. It promptly falls and smashes for pieces.

No more musicals after that.

CHERRY! I feel like I haven't spammed your asks in a while- since before I finally came off of anon -but I've got a stupid mental image that I now need to share with someone. I remember you and I having a short discussion on TWST and Phantom songs a while ago, so I thought you'd be the perfect person to tell.

I just saw Phantom of The Opera live two nights ago (and I bawled like a baby the entire time), and at several points during the show the Phantom would randomly appear above the stage at the cieling- it's hard to describe but there was a walkway hidden above the stage and you didn't realize it was there until the Phantom poked his head out from behind the curtains and literally said "I'm here!!!" and he kept moving around and around and his voice would come from all different directions. It was chaotic and ever so slightly comedic. While waiting for my flight home I was playing TWST and listening to the Phantom of The Opera soundtrack and I conjured up this brilliant yet stupid idea.

NRC for some reason or another, puts on a musical and decides to go with one Yuu/MC described to everyone: The Phantom of The Opera. Yuu is cast as Christine by default. Azul lands the role of Raoul due to his wonderful voice, and he's ecstatic because that means he's Yuu's leading man. Jade is cast as the Phantom, and throughout the entirety of Act 1 he does astonishingly well. He's a perfect Phantom: mysterious, elusive, mature, slightly crazed.

Something happens- nobody knows what -and Floyd takes his brother's place for Act 2... and instead of following the script and cues, Floyd instead sings half of the songs incorrectly and runs on stage when he isn't supposed to, or keeps showing up on the walkway above the stage and making random comments- mostly things such as "man, that Octupus Raoul is super lame and boring."

During Masquerade Floys doesn't even wait until he's actually meant to show up. Instead he walks on stage without his mask, eating something, and sits down on the staircase and doesn't move.

It's not Phantom of The Opera anymore. Rook, the director of the now fiasco, is sobbing. Vil is mad as hell because Floyd has altered the once pristine costume, the only thing in tact is the mask. Thankfully, the audience doesn't actually know how The Phantom of The Opera is supposed to go since it isn't from Twisted Wonderland and they had to go with a rundown from Yuu. But some members are still able to tell that Floyd is NOT doing it right. Mostly due to Azul's flabbergasted expression and Yuu's not so quiet threats "Floyd say your line right or else you're going to be a cooked eel!"

Floyd does the last song perfectly... until the part when the Phantom is supposed to let Christine go. Then Floyd says "nah, don't feel like it." and proceeds to pick up Yuu, push Azul out of the way and run off stage. He doesn't return and he and Yuu are nowhere to be found. Azul is frozen on stage and doesn't know what to do. Rook is now on the floor crying. Deuce's solution to the chaos is to drop a Cauldron in the middle of the stage as a distraction while Jack and Epel close the curtains.

Crowley doesn't even stay to see what happens next. He just leaves. 💀

Kalim, bless his heart, starts applauding and yelling "BRAVO!!!"

awww, Snowy, you're always welcome <3 sorry for replying to this so, so late! but oh God, I loved every little thing in this lmao

I see twst, I see Phantom, I see an opera... TWISSSSTED WONDERLAND IS ALWAYS THEREEEEE, INSIDE MY MIND!!

this play is the most chaotic thing that ever happened in NRC since the Ghost Bride days (and that was only months ago), simply perfect! I loved the octatrio presence here, they're always committed to these kinds of things lmao

AZUL AS RAOUL OMG he does have an incredible voice. I mean, I listened to "Make a Wish" a couple of times already and the way his VA manages to blend with Idia's VA (Uchiyama Koki my beloved) but still be melodic just, oh, melts my hearttt and ofc he uses the chance to court and be romantic to Yuu~

Jade as the Phantom was quite unexpected but I'll allow it lol he would do a good Phantom, I agree. Charming and psychotic, very well... NOW FLOYD DOING THE TWIN-CHANGE AS A TWIST WAS EVERYTHING TO ME LMAO

HE EATING A SANDWICH IN THE STAIRCASE WHILE THE MASQUERADE SCENE IS HAPPENING OH MY GOD SNOWY I'M DYING

I love the detail of Rook crying bc for me, I think was happening for either three things: 1) he's a theater kid and knows well how this is a disaster of epic proportions; 2) he's sobbing at the beauty of chaos and the improv; 3) the two above and that's why he's going insane, bawling his eyes out on Vil's blazer (who's also a certified theater kid). Rook can be critic at times but this conflicts with his ability to have a positive look for everything's beauty... in summary, someone give him a hug

someone actually give Yuu a hug bc they're the most affected by Floyd screwing over this amazing musical

Floyd half the way through the play, live reaction:

FLOYD PICKING YUU UP AT THE FINALE AND PUSHING AZUL OFF HAD ME ON THE GROUND DYING (opposite reaction from Rook, totally)

aaaawwww, man, I want to give Azul a hug!! once I passed through a similar situation on a school project and this is actually one of my past nightmares when it comes to any play/theater I'm acting on (mainly on Church but that's a funny story for another day). c'mon here, Azul, let me hug you, querido <3

DEUCE.

I actually needed a moment to pick myself up bc this was the final bomb. Yes, final bomb. The actual "boom" blow, everything goes everywhere, destruction, chaos, terror, oh God let's run to the mountains, was KALIM APPLAUDING THIS MESS WHILE HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE

the common sense to grasp the fact that even though nobody in Twisted Wonderland knows Phantom of the Opera, they know everything went horribly wrong. horribly.

I loved it, hope they get to do the second day all over again :D

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orangefoxes · 3 years ago

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Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

#Neil josten #andrew minyard #Allison Reynolds #the foxhole court #andreil #all for the game #anorexia #eating disorder

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dnarez · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 9 - My son, My mom

[Kind of rushed, sorry for the fast pass]

After taking the train to Fukuoka, Keigo's home city, you went to the adress that was on the official Hawks's Agency site.

You decided to walk, the weather was nice, but it could use a little wind, so you pointed your finger to the sky and made a loop like drawn with it, wind started to blow lightly, but because of how sudden it was some skirts went up, and you saw a newspaper hit a men in the face.

The path was very calm after that, but on the contrary of the outside, you were panicking on the inside, heart throbbing with anxiety, but you didn't allowed your feet to stop moving.

'What if he doesn't recognize me? No... I know that I have a little more breast, and may have some grey hair but-! It's Keigo! I want to see him! He's probably busy... what will I tell them to let me in?... oh! I can use my commission ID!!!'

You finally were getting there! The building was clear as day to you, you walked a little faster but calmed yourself down before going next to the receptionist.

"Hello, I came to see Hawks" you said with the typical 'business' voice

"Sorry hun, you can't, no fans allowed" she said not looking up.

"He's expecting me" you crossed your arms.

She looked at you up and down "That's kinda hard to belive Miss, since his schedule that I take care of doesn't have anything about MILFs"

You glared at her and showed your ID "Maybe there is something for the hero commission"

The girl paled at the card "Yes ma'am, I will tell him right now" she took the phone and called him... "Yes I know but-... It's the commission sir... she didn't- okay... yes sir" she hangs up the phone "last floor big wood door, there's no way you can miss it"

You nod to her and hold yourself back from running to the elevator, when you get there and see yourself on the mirror you frown.

Your face is starting to have marks, the scar on your chest is hidden behind your shirt, but the ghost feeling of the knife going through skin and breaking your chest bones was terrifying to remember, so you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing.

But closing your eyes made part of it worst, the flashbacks of those nights that you had to sell your body for information.

The "ding" from the elevator brought you back to today, taking a deep relived breath you get out of the elevator and go to his office door.

You knock three times, the business like knock made you cringe, but it's the way you alway knock.

"Come in" you heard his voice, and just that made you smile.

The pictures of him were everywhere on the internet, he was a very handsome man, extremely smart, kind, loving, and nothing of it was thanks to you... because you went away.

You closed the door behind you and saw that he's doing paperwork, a lot of it, the piles were even on the floor, but he had no feather on his wings "You are two hours early, this better be important, I am the number two pro hero after all" he didn't looked up from his papers, just kept writing.

Even if you saw a dozen of pictures trying to get familiar with his face, you just couldn't be prepared enough for this.

That small child that loved to laugh with you, that ate your food with a big smile, that had nightmares and would run to you, your son... was a grown up, and you weren't able to watch any of this.

His birthdays, fights with instructors, his teenager phase, his first crush, first love, first kiss, him being an ass to the higher ups and you would have to buy ice cream for him later... all those especial moments were lost, away from you.

Keigo heard sobbing an someone started to cry, when he looked up he was in total shock. "Mom?" His voice was barely over a wisper

"Keigo I'm so sorry!" You fell on your knees and bowed down.

(For those that don't know, this is the type of bowing that it's taken very seriously on Japan, as it represent that you are truthfully sorry, it's called Dogeza)

Hawks jumped from his chair and run to you "MOM GET UP!"

"I'm so-so sorry! I didn't have a option! The mission was so long! I there were moments that I though that I would never see you again! Must have feelt so alone, must have thought that I abandoned you! But I swear Keigo! Lil birb! My son!" You raise your head and look at him kneeled in front of you "I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! I'M SOR-"

Hawks hugged you tightly "Y-you came back!" You hug him just as tighly.

"I would never dream of leaving you alone, my boy" you sink your hand on his hair and scratch it, your other and pets his lower back "I'm so proud of you Keigo, you did such an amazing job all alone"

"I wasn't alone!" He break the hug and you see his face.

"I had you with me all this time! Your coat, a-and your diary! Your dairy had so many advice in it! I always felt like you were with me, but I missed you so much mom! Are you-" he takes a deep breath and you pet his hair "are you going to stay?"

You nod quickly "Of course! There is no better place in this world for me than by my son's side" you both hug each other.

"Mom!" He buried his face on her neck, hiccuping like the little boy he was to you.

"My baby birb, you did so well until now, you truly are awesome as fuck" you kiss his cheek and he sighs.

After all you were here holding each other's hand, he felt like a weight lift from his shoulders.

"Let's go to your house, I can prepare anything you would like" you separate the hug and get up.

He nods getting up too "I want that fried chicken you do! I never found a place that does it like yours!"

You both talk and clean each other's face.

This was true happiness...

................................ Important!

This is the ending... but not exactly, this is actually the end to this part of the history.

Now there's still something's going around, like when hawks fights dabi, Y/n will help Aizawa with classes, Y/n had a close relationship with AFO on her mission.

But technically it ends here, the rest of this book will takes twice as long for me to do.

If you follow me on my tumblr and/or Ao3, you know that I wrote 7 works until now, to which I'm currently working on 3 constantly and 2 from time to time.

So I hope you all can keep reading my work.

#bnh #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha hawks #mha x you #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #keigo takami #takami keigo #caretaker #mom reader #mother #mother reader #fluff

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Text

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

- Chapter 10 -

Nie Mingjue was starting to become accustomed to the routine of the cell.

Wen Ruohan would generally visit the Fire Palace twice weekly, sometimes more if he had had a very bad day and wanted to let off some steam. Nie Mingjue would get visited on at least one of those instances, whether for a short time and a bit of emotional devastation or for a longer and much more physically uncomfortable visit, and sometimes more often if Wen Ruohan was not doing well in war.

Wen Ruohan still enjoyed asking him questions, but Nie Mingjue didn’t think he had to answer them anymore. This was a subject that came up sometimes during some of those longer visits.

The rest of the time, he was left to recover and be bored. He was not given access to his saber – Baxia had been hidden away somewhere, he thought, he could feel that she was safe if unhappy – but his spiritual energy was not restrained, the way some other prisoners were.

He spent a great deal of time meditating. Sometimes, if his physical condition allowed for it, he would practice old techniques, trying to focus on a different muscle each time to try to avoid letting them atrophy. His empty hands bothered him, but he deemed it unlikely that anyone would give him equivalent to a saber something to wield, not even if he asked.

Food was twice a day, usually just a bowl of rice and vegetables that the kitchen would otherwise have thrown away, and it was brought by the same prison guard each time.

Nie Mingjue liked the prison guard.

Possibly it was because he was the only person Nie Mingjue saw on a regular basis, other than Wen Ruohan – Nie Mingjue’s cell was a little ways away from the other prisoners, lest they infect him with something and he die too quickly, although he was still within earshot of all the screams – or possibly it was the prison guard’s pleasant demeanor, friendly and calm like a lake of still water.

They were playing a long-running game of sorts.

Nie Mingjue had guessed that Meng Yao – that was the prison guard’s name – was an outsider, recently joined, and that he had previously spent time in both the Lan and Jin sects. This perspicacity had surprised Meng Yao, drawing his interest, and he had asked, very politely, for Nie Mingjue’s name.

Nie Mingjue had, just as politely, refused to give it.

Meng Yao, surprised yet again, had asked for his reasons.

Nie Mingjue had explained that he wasn’t sure if Wen Ruohan would react badly to other people knowing about him, and it would be a shame for Meng Yao to be murdered while he had yet to achieve whatever it was that he was seeking so strenuously to accomplish.

For some reason, Meng Yao saw this as a challenge.

“Gongzi, I have your dinner,” Meng Yao said. “Would you like me to ask the cook to give you some meat, next time? Just let me know. I would be more than happy to tell her to send more food to…?”

“Certainly,” Nie Mingjue said. “You can tell her that it’s on behalf of the last cell on the right.”

Meng Yao wrinkled his nose at him, and Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes back.

Their normal initial exchange of wits over, Meng Yao gave him the food and supervised him as he ate – a babysitter upon whose head the consequences would fall if Nie Mingjue misbehaved was the condition of giving him chopsticks. Wen Ruohan had a great deal of experience in keeping prisoners alive, and he knew Nie Mingjue’s character quite well.

“I heard that you were giving Sect Leader Wen advice on the war,” Meng Yao said casually as Nie Mingjue tried to guess what pickled vegetable he was eating, since neither taste nor appearance was definitive. “Gongzi must be very well-respected.”

“Did you hear about the part where I told him the best counterstrike would be to shove his troops up his own ass?”

“…and very brave.”

Nie Mingjue chuckled. “And you must be very competent to have made your way up to prominence in two separate sects, especially at such a young age.”

Meng Yao did not want to like him, Nie Mingjue could tell. He did anyway.

It wouldn’t help him if something more important to Meng Yao was at stake, of course – Nie Mingjue had lived too long with Qishan Wen cruelty, selfishness, and ruthlessness to miss seeing it reflected in others – but it was still nice to be liked.

“…how do you know?”

“Was that a direct question?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Be still my heart.”

“This humble servant has observed that gongzi does not answer anything else.”

“Humble,” Nie Mingjue drawled. “Yes, that’s the first thing I think of when I think of you.”

Meng Yao’s eyes were narrowing, though, so he stopped teasing.

“It’s your hair.”

“My – hair?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “The way you set it. It’s clear that Xichen must have taught you how to arrange the braids personally, which means that you must have gotten fairly high up in the Lan sect – but Sect Leader Wen referred to you as being poached from the Jin sect.”

Meng Yao reached up touch his hair. “…I never made it that high in the Jin sect,” he finally said. “Not even lieutenant.”

“In the middle of a war, with how competent you are? Does Sect Leader Jin have something against you?” A small furrowing of Meng Yao’s brow. “Did you complain that he raped your sister or something?”

A long, slow blink. “Is that a problem he has?”

“Not liking people who try to make him responsible for his actions?” Nie Mingjue snorted. “Yes.”

Meng Yao looked contemplative.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked, finally giving up on the pickled vegetable and handing back the bowl.

“Only that you know a great deal of gossip –”

“Involuntarily, I assure you.”

“– and that you feel comfortable calling Lan-da-gongzi by name, and are familiar enough to know how he personally styles his hair.” Meng Yao smiled. “I’ll figure out who you are yet, gongzi.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “They’ve probably already forgotten me.”

“This is your fault,” Wen Ruohan murmured in his ear, and Nie Mingjue was too weak to refuse to listen. “You did this – to yourself, to them. Why couldn’t you have just been obedient?”

He didn’t know anymore.

“I’m Sect Leader Jin’s son,” Meng Yao said.

“Your mother must be a genius,” Nie Mingjue replied.

There was a moment of silence – probably Meng Yao staring at him.

It was probably not the response he had been expecting.

“I’ve met Sect Leader Jin,” Nie Mingjue said in explanation. He was lying face-down on the floor of the cell while Meng Yao tended to his wounds; the conversation, he knew, was only to distract him from the sting of the stitches. “He’s cunning, not smart, horribly self-absorbed, and ‘competent’ isn’t the word I’d use for him; he makes do mostly by paying enough to hire good help. Given the contrast with you, it follows that you must have gotten all the good traits from the other side…I hope he didn’t rape her. Sorry about making that joke, earlier. I didn’t realize.”

“You said sister, not mother.”

“Right,” Nie Mingjue said. “I forgot.”

“Anyway, he didn’t have to rape her. He bought her,” Meng Yao said. He was tightening the bandages now and his hands were perfectly steady. Too steady, the way Wen Qing’s were when she was having to control himself. “She was a whore.”

Nie Mingjue got the feeling that Meng Yao was expecting some sort of reaction. He wasn’t sure what, though.

“Okay,” he said. Out of lack of anything better to say, he added, “Was she nice?”

“What type of question is that?” Meng Yao demanded.

He’d picked the wrong reaction again, Nie Mingjue presumed.

“I don’t know,” he said. His eyes were closed and his forehead was pressed against the cool stone. “I don’t really remember my mother. All I know is that she was a rogue cultivator, and tall –”

“I would never have guessed the latter, gongzi.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like I’ve never heard that one before. My father raised me on his own – we don’t believe in using nursemaids to do it.” He exhaled. “I’m forgetting him, too.”

“He died?”

“Sect Leader Wen killed him.” He heard Meng Yao exhale. “I know. I’m not very filial, am I?”

“I don’t think that’s a consideration,” Meng Yao murmured. “Under the circumstances.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t want to talk about it. “So, your mother,” he said. “Was she nice?”

“…does it matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter? She’s your mother, isn’t she?”

Meng Yao chuckled. It was not a nice sound. “Most people don’t really care to listen past the part where they find out she’s a whore.”

“I’ve never actually met a whore,” Nie Mingjue confessed. He was starting to drift off again – it was hard to stay awake. “The closest I ever got to even talking about one was when we had to put the fear of brothels into A-Chao. Sect Leader Wen was trying to ruin him.”

“A-Chao?”

“Mm. Like – a little brother, almost. I’ve got a bunch.”

Meng Yao snickered. “Yes, gongzi does seem the type.”

Nie Mingjue smiled into the floor. He knew that tone – it was just the same as A-Chao’s, in fact. “You’re welcome to join in, if you like.”

Meng Yao’s hands stopped moving abruptly.

“Assuming I’m not dead, of course.”

After a moment, Meng Yao’s hands started moving again. They were gentler.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “After a promise like that, I’ll be sure not to let him kill you.”

“Need to get your money’s worth out of me?”

“Of course.” A pause. “Naturally, it would be easier if gongzi would tell me his name…”

Nie Mingjue huffed – like Meng Yao was going to get him that easily.

“No need for such formality, A-Yao,” he said. “Just call me da-ge.”

“You must have some hobbies.”

“Must I?”

“Everyone has hobbies.”

“I collect younger siblings. Does that count?”

“It does not.”

“It’s your fault,” Wen Ruohan crooned as Nie Mingjue’s shrieks split the air. “Your fault. You turned them against me. It’s because of you that I’m going to need to kill them…”

“I don’t think I would have liked you, in the normal course of things,” Meng Yao said conversationally. “I usually find righteous people boring. Most of the time, they’re arrogant hypocrites, as rigid like the stiff pole that must have gotten shoved up their asses at some point. No one looks down on you like the righteous, and usually for stupid reasons, too. For something as petty and as simple as just not being them. Not having their advantages from the moment you were born.”

He paused. Cleared his throat.

“Lan Xichen was the first one I met who wasn’t like that. He really – he’s nice, I think you would put it. Kind. Everything they say about what gentlemen ought to be, he is.”

A brief silence.

“Naïve, though. Almost painfully so. I twisted him around my little finger without even trying…even when I was trying not to.”

Nie Mingjue believed him. Manipulation seemed to come as second nature to Meng Yao, even when he was being sincere. Sometimes, even especially when he was being sincere.

It was a bit like Wen Xu, actually. It was hard to throw off the way you’d been raised.

“At first I thought the problem was with me, that I didn’t appreciate him enough, that I didn’t understand how to have a friendship with a person like that. A good one. Sometimes I thought, well, no, maybe the problem’s with him – he pities me too much to see what I’m really like, and that means he’s deceiving himself, it’s got nothing to do with me. In the end…I don’t know. I don’t think I ever resolved it.”

He sighed. It was a long, low sound, almost whistling in the dead air of the Fire Palace.

“You’re not like Lan Xichen at all. You really are unbending, rigid, inexorable…I ought to despise you. You ought to despise me. I torture people most of the day, you know. I even enjoy it.”

For all his poise, Meng Yao was younger even than Lan Xichen. He shouldn’t be anyone’s prison guard. Shouldn’t be torturing anyone. How could you blame children for doing something that would win them praise?

“It’s this place that makes me like you, I think. It’s just – it’s filthy, here. Disgusting. The more I’m in this prison the worse it gets. The more bad things I do, the more bad things I think. I barely dare recall my better memories, my mother, Lan Xichen. I’m too afraid that the filth and grime of this place will stain their purity even in my thoughts.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand, not really - maybe he’d been here so long that the stain had sunk in already, blackening everything it touched. But he tried as much as he could to sympathize.

“And then there’s you. You, all shining steel and stiff unbending morality, the sort of person I hate the most. But when I’m here knee-deep in the muck, trapped in the dark without any hope of surfacing, I look at you and I feel – it’s almost like I can see light again, reflected in you. As if I’m breathing clean air. For the first time in my life, I think I understand why people have ethics. That they’re not some stupid thing made up by someone to fool someone else into voluntarily crippling the hand they’ve been dealt to play.”

That was definitely not what ethics were.

“I don’t know if we’d get along outside this place. Where I’m still me, with all my flaws that make me all the worse, and you’re still you, with all your imperfections that only make you better, but without this place to make us get along. I really don’t know. For once in my life, I don’t have a goal, a target, a scheme. As far as I know, you’re nobody I can use, and keeping you close to me will only tie an anchor to my legs, weigh me down. But even with all that, even if nothing I do works out and it all blows up in my face…I’d still like to find out. Find out if we would get along, if you really would treat me like your little brother even though you know what I’m really like under the smile. Find out if someone like me really can get along with someone like you.”

Nie Mingjue felt Meng Yao squeeze his hand, and wished he could respond in kind.

“So you have to wake up, da-ge. You hear me? You have to wake up.”

“It’s done. They’re gone. And it’s all your fault.”

He lies, Nie Mingjue told himself. He lies, he lies, he lies –

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wen ruohan #jin guangyao #meng yao #my fic #my fics #fire and light

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melkstudio · 3 years ago

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June Progress Report

-Had this post scheduled for today but tumblr ate it or something, sorry if it appears twice!-

Happy summer everyone!

June is over, Mercury Retrograde is over, finally, my mind is somewhat clearer, and I'm very excited for all I'm going to be writing during this month!

During June I had a lot of thoughts, I spent some time writing what I believe to be the prologue idea I'll go for, I also worked on the rewrite for chapter 1, took more notes on things I'm embarrassed to have written, finished the angsty segment (made it sadder and more nostalgic too), wrote a scene that I'm hoping it's not too much (it features a character sort of having a panic attack off screen and trying to come up with ideas to help them feel comfortable and calm).

In regards to the portraits: they're almost done! I also took down the Live Portrait Maker portraits because they're no longer accurate to the characters. For example, Hazuki now has longer hair, Katja doesn't look depressed, K looks gentler (I redid the lineart for Klaus THREE TIMES, they really gave me so much trouble, Klaus, why), extra RO now shows no name (I can't tell you why, please don't ask me). I also want to maybe rework the entire masterpost, I had already rewritten some of the descriptions but I want to make it nicer and more organized. Also, now that I'm on chapter 4 I have a better grasp on the type of story I want to tell.

When all portraits are done I was thinking of publishing introduction posts for each one, since I never got to do that before. I'm so excited to get to work on those, though I have to think about how I want to approach it and also work on a new banner maybe.

There is also now a FAQ (unavailable right now because I want to reword some things and make it look a little nicer). This FAQ is not final and includes many questions I have not been asked but I thought would be important to mention. I included some trigger warnings into the public demo and I'm thinking of including an age rating too. I'm leaning towards an 18+ rating because it is a dark fantasy and the rewritten chapters are probably going to be darker, but I'll make the decision when the rewrite is done.

Also the game's first demo anniversary is coming up! Unfortunately I have nothing planned (except for the portraits but I don't know if I'll be posting them that soon, and the new logo which is finished but I'm not sharing yet), I tried to write some oneshots but if there is no plot or backstory I actually get sort of bored of them, so yeah, sorry. I'll see if I can come up with something.

Well, that's about it. Here's your out of context phrase, a bit spoilery:

"It's not like a mark," K explains with a sigh. "Have you heard of the term 'sworn family'?"

#update #interactive fiction #progress report

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bongugourokishima33 · 5 years ago

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Look So Good | Bakugou Katsuki

A/N: I hope you liked my first post! I promise I’ll be more descriptive and tag better, new format so I’m still trying to figure out how to properly use Tumblr :p

Warning: Sensual dancing, bakugou’s a dancer?!

Summary: You were always someone Bakuogu wanted but could never get, after messing around a few times, he finally understood how to speak your language, and soon you will be his~

Word Count: 1,917

“Ooh, you be lookin' so good, I've been keepin' my cool, I be actin' brand new wit' ya-”

Your hands slid up your legs sensually as you were bent over, slowly lifting up to the beat. Rolling your upper part matching the rhythm, watching yourself in the mirror of the dance studio.

“Ooh, you be lookin' so good, I be actin' brand new, I've been keepin' my cool wit' ya, hey.”

Pausing the music for better concentration, you thought of your next move that would flow perfectly with this chorus. considering you had a competition coming up next month you wanted to win, so this dance had to be perfect

“Why don’t we take a break.” Kirishima said sitting on the floor covered in sweat as he held the water bottle in his right, and a hand towel in his left.

“Shima this is important to me, it needs to be perfect.” You groaned trying to catch your breath as you placed your hands on your hips. Kirishima wasn’t just your voluntary dance partner but also one of your best friends. He knows how important this is to you, but considering how you guys have been at this since 8 o’clock this morning, he’s pooped.

“Y/N, It’s already noon, I’m starving.” He whined chugging the water until the bottle was half empty.

“Just help me fix this and then we can go eat, I don’t like these moves but I don’t know what to do.” You huffed thoroughly frustrated at how you didn’t like this one part of the dance.

“I’m not good at dance stuff, I’m only this good because you taught me.” He laughed getting up after placing the stuff on the ground beside him and walked up to your side taking in a deep breath.

“Okay, well it’s a duet... it’s supposed to be powerful and sexual right?” You nodded staring at him through the mirror as you watched him stand behind you.

“Well I saw this in a video on youtube, but we can slow it down and make it more sensual.” He placed his hand on your back.

“When you bend down, and move your hand up your leg-.” You did what he said, as his hand stayed on your back.

“Come up slowly, I’ll move m hand here- and then you move this way-.” After another painful hour of trying out a different move for this chorus you both agreed that you liked the new idea better and called it a day and grabbed your stuff leaving the studio.

Dancing was a passion of yours that was something you wanted to be more than a hero, even though your quirk was something to be classified hero material. To obey your parents wishes you went to UA for them, but still try your best to continue your passionate love for dance.

“Don’t worry Y/N, were gonna win!” Kirishima cheered as we walked into the dorms, seeing some of your classmates hanging out in the lounge are. Your eyes landed on crimson eyes that stared daggers back at yours.

“You’re late, damn it I’m starving!” Bakugou roared walking up to him with his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry man, Y/N made me stay longer.” He laughed scratching the back of his head.

“I should have just ate with out you.” He grumbled glancing at you one more time, scanning you from head to toe. He made your skin tingle and your heart skip a beat. Besides his nasty attitude Bakugou was someone you considered your type, he’s sexy, incredibly strong and smart.

“Don’t tell me you were struggling with dancing?!” He scoffed, his tone seeping into a condescending one. You glared at him, walking away before he opened up his mouth to say stuff that could piss you off about dancing. He always teased you, acting like he could do anything close to the stuff you do.

“Ha, did I piss the little princess off?” A smirk formed against Bakugou’s lips making you stop dead in your tracks, turning on your heels to meet the ash blondes grin.

“You think dancing is easy?” You rose a brow trying to hold back your scoff.

“I don’t think it’s easy, I know it is.” Nibbling on your bottom lip to hold back the words you wanna say to him you glanced at Kirishima who sighed shaking his head, staying out of it.

“Alright if you think it’s so easy then why don’t you try dancing Kirishima’s part in my dance routine.” The boost of confidence you got from within spilled out as you got closer but the closer you got the more you realized how much taller he was from you as he glared at your bravery.

“Bring it you damn extra.” His malicious expression.

You weren’t an amateur you were considered a performer, a top dancer form the studio you go to. Trying not to let his snarky remarks reheat the fire in your belly you headed to your room to clean up and change.

“Wow that was amazing guy! Kirishima I didn’t know you could dance!” Mina cheered, along with Ochaco and Toru.

“Ah. thanks guys haha.” Smiling bashfully at their comment, Kirishima looked at you with a smirk of confidence, knowing that they were going to wow the judges at the competition.

“Why did you guys come!” Annoyed Bakugou glared at the group as they shrugged.

“I wanted to see Y/N’s dance, they have been working for weeks on it I mean that was just incredible.” Toru said gushing over how hot it was resting on Jiro who was controlling the music.

“Awh, are you scared of a little crowd? Or scared that there will be an audience watching to see that what I just did wasn’t luck but skill.” You used the back of your hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead. Knowing that you should be careful how far you push his buttons, you ignored your subconscious and continued to pick and poke at him.

Bakugou was too prideful to back down from a challenge regardless of the situation, and considering he started it he definitely wasn’t backing down, he was going to make you eat those words, and then some.

The way you moved your body made it impossible to peel his eyes away, how toned and smooth your legs looked as you touched them, and lifted them showing off your flexibility. The way he saw your chest heaving up and down when you were catching your breath, a thin layer of sweat coating your chest as your tank top hugged your body tightly.

How your can pop your back out and make your ass, your voluptuous back side poke out and jiggle. It drove him crazy, but it wasn’t the first time he’s seen you move like that, remembering back to days the two of you slipped away somewhere quiet and had a little fun. You were fucking beautiful, a goddess with moves so tranquil and alluring he could watch you on repeat all day.

Getting up without any hesitation he walked up to you shoving Kirishima over, everyone shocked that he accepted the challenge. Walking over to everyone he took the phone from Jiro smiling letting her know she got it.

Pulling you closer to himself, Bakugou placed his hands on your side, your back facing everyone. ‘Zshhoom’ the sound of your heart racing never being this close to him but a few times in your dreams when you stayed up all night thinking about him.

“Alright Bakugou let’s see if you were watching carefully.” Yelled Kirishima as he got the music ready.

“There’s no way you memorized all of that.” You said baffled at how confident he was.

“Wanna bet.” He mumbled in your ear pulling you closer initiating for you to wrap your arms around his neck, getting into the starting pose you had earlier. You stared up at him, feeling nervous that there was an slight chance he would win, but there was no way, it was impossible, I mean you knew he was incredible, he had talent for cooking, he could fight, and he knew how to play the drums but dancing wasn’t like any of those.

“You’re on.” Licking your lips in regret as the words slipped out your mouth like the wind does through trees. He smirked scanning your body one last time, before licking his lips. He didn’t have to say what the conditions were, you already knew them, it was the same like long before, part of you out of excitement hoped he would win, but your competitive side pushed those lewd thoughts away once the music started played.

“Ooh, you be lookin' so good, I've been keepin' my cool, I be actin' brand new wit' ya”

Slowly moving your hips to the beat, you felt his hands quide you as you went down slightly then came back up, hr spun you around placing his hand on your back.

“Ooh, you be lookin' so good, I be actin' brand new, I've been keepin' my cool wit' ya, hey”

Bending forward, as you stuck your leg out to the side, you ran your hand up your leg slowly coming back up, swaying your back side gently against him. After bringing you back up he ran his hands up your side, raising your arms in the process.

“Top down, let me look in your eyes, (Get you somebody to roll the dice with), I know every second of yours is all mine, Get you somebody you don't think twice with)”

Dropping down into the slips once Bakugou held your hands in his, he helped lowered you with ease. Before everyone was watching excited, but now everyone’s eyes were watching your every movement with Bakugou. The tension and passion that came from you both like you two were the only ones in the room made everyone’s jaw drop to the performance.

Pulling you back up, he move in sync with you as you both were in rhythm hitting each move perfectly in time with the beat. The song was coming to the last chorus, only being almost two minutes long.

“I know what to do with my love if it's right, (Get you somebody to roll the dice with)”

Gripping your perfectly sculpted body into his hands, he lifted you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist, his palms laying flat against your back lowering you as you bent backwards, both of you dipping low to the beat. slipping off him to finish with one leg in the air as he held it up the song cut.

“Omg that was even better than the first time!” Mina gasped.

“Yeah talk about passion!” Toru giggled looking at Kirishima.

“You need to be more passionate like that, and you will totally win for sure!” Kirishima sighed but listened to the feedback anyways.

“Hold on are we just going to ignore the fact that Bakugou can dance!?” Jiro exclaimed taken back by what she just saw.

Letting your leg down slowly he whispered into your ear swiftly before moving away from you, and even though he spoke quietly you heard him loud and clear.

“Looks like I won kitten, you better be in my fucking room before I do.” Melting away at his tone you nodded smiling softly to yourself as he headed over to Kirishima, he was giving you a few minutes to get a head starts.

#bnha #bnha smut #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #mha #mha smut #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader

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vanrouqe · 4 years ago

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Treasured Memories

Polaroids taken during his first year in Night Raven College were splayed over his bed. Polaroids that moved on their own accord; each of them having varying time loops. The polaroids showed glimpses of what happened during the time it was taken; they were the byproduct of the magical tool known as the ghost camera. They were his memories, entrapped in a magical film, and depending on who took these photographs was, for lack of better words, very close to him.

Ace picked up a polaroid. 20th of March was engraved in gold ink at the bottom that also served as the caption; as the polaroid started moving on a four second loop.

It was during his second day in college; which was from four years ago, yet he can still recall that all too eventful second day.

It was the day when he narrowly avoided being expelled for breaking a magical chandelier in the cafeteria.

It was also the day when he met Deuce and Grim; who were merely strangers he had worked together with to retrieve a magical crystal; the light source of the chandelier that they had to replace.

He pursed his lips, trying to remember the exact moment that the polaroid was showing. It was a candid shot; hastily taken at what looked like the hallway just outside the Headmaster’s office.

He had been bantering with Deuce.

“Ah right this was the same day when Riddle...” He trailed off, as he subconsciously rubbed the side of his neck.

It was during that same day that he faced the wrath of Riddle; all for sneaking into the kitchen to eat a tart.

Off with your head!

He shivered at that thought, vaguely recalling that night before he moved on to grab another memento.

The polaroid started moving on a fourteen second loop; this time the loop was longer. Ace felt his cheeks burn up as the caption read: “Our Unsung Hero, Ace Trappola” before it flickered to “The Ideal Groom, Ace Trappola” written in calligraphy.

The polaroid displayed him crouched down on the cafeteria as the person who took the photo was trying to pry his hands away from his face. “Just one photo, please Ace?”

He must have given them permission because he heard a little triumphant “Yes!” followed by a soft click.

“See? That wasn’t so bad! You look really cute too!”

There was a momentary pause before he heard Epel’s faint voice, “...had to choose between us as your ideal groom, who would it be?”

“Eh, me? Well I guess the ideal groom would be...”

Then the loop ended.

“Heh? So I was your ideal type huh...” Ace grinned, taking the photo closer to his face as he watched the caption flicker from “Our Unsung Hero, Ace Trappola” to “The Ideal Groom, Ace Trappola” once. twice. thrice.

He set the polaroid down as he began rummaging through the remaining mementos, trying to find a specific one.

He skimmed through the polaroids as they played different memories, all with different loop intervals.

Eventually, Ace found that specific polaroid with the caption hastily written: “Until We Meet Again.”

He could hear indistinct chatter in the background. Different voices that held the same melancholic tone.

Ace closed his eyes, trying to recall the memory of that day.

“I’m gonna miss you, Ace.”

Ace frowned slightly. It was the same voice he could faintly hear in the majority of the mementos, a voice that always sounded warm and inviting, yet this time it sounded sad and distant.

“Eh? But you have our numbers, right? You can always give me a call!” Ace paused, before realization struck him. “Ah, right. You have to return the camera and phone to the Headmaster.”

“Then I’ll just write my number on your hand. C’mere.” He took out his magical pen from his front pocket.

“I don’t know if I will be able to contact you through my world, though”

“It won’t hurt to try, right?” Ace gave a reassuring smile; or what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“C’mon don’t look so down! If the Headmaster found a way to bring you to our world and return you to yours, surely he can bring you ba-”

Ace was cut off, with a hug. Within the warm embrace, he felt secure. A part of him; the selfish part of him, wanted to scream what he truly felt. Surely he can convince them to stay in this world—in his world.

But the other part of him wanted them to go back to their own world. To go back to their family and friends. Ace didn’t have a clue if time in his world and their world were even the same.

In the end, Ace didn’t break the silence. He didn’t tell what he felt, instead he tightened the hug.

“I’m really gonna miss you, Ace. Don’t forget me, alright?”

“I will miss you too, Kantokusei. I will find a way to bring you back, I promise.”

It’s been 4 years now. 4 years since that promise and yet, he still hasn’t fulfilled it.

For 4 years, Ace had frequented the library, trying to find the summoning spell to bring them back. The spell that the Headmaster had used in the first place.

In numerous occasions, Ace would ask the Headmaster to give him the spell, and he would get turned down–reprimanded, as the summoning spell requires a certain level of skill that a beginner such as himself hasn’t achieved yet.

“Let me ask you this, Ace Trappola-kun. Perfecting the summoning spell would require you years and years of practice. And let’s say you finally perfected it, do you think they would still want to come back?”

Those words struck him. Of course he had thought about it, in his ideal world, his beloved Kantokusei would want to come back. They would be eager to come back to him and he would welcome them, with open arms.

But the world wasn’t built to bend for him and he hated it. He made numerous attempts on the summoning spell which never yielded the result he wanted.

“Why are you so hung up in bringing them back?” Deuce had asked him once? twice? thrice? Ace couldn’t remember how many times he had heard that line.

And every single time, he couldn’t think of any answer other than, “Because I miss them.”

Wasn’t that enough for an answer?

Though Ace never said it out loud, he knew Deuce could see the answer in his eyes.

Ace opened his eyes, just in time as the polaroid was nearing the end of its loop.

He watched the scene unfold before him.

They had all gathered around for one last photo. With tears stained cheeks and puffy eyes, everyone still put on their best smile.

Click.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten about me, Kantokusei” Ace forced a smile, holding the polaroid close to his lips before he whispered, “I miss you...”

author’s note: reposted because tumblr ate it earlier i think? maybe sad boi hours were opened. as always, i am open to feedbacks! :D

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #twst ace #ace trappola x reader #twst ace x reader #twst x reader #implied but can be read as platonic too #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios

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myhaikyuuthings · 4 years ago

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Boyfriend HCs

You guessed it, this is for Aone

tumblr cock blocked the east coast (my timezone) for seven hours but here it is for you guys

SFW:

very shy at the start of your relationship

he’s not super good at expressing himself or accepting affection but he’s trying and learning more every day

not huge on pda, but will hold your hand

the longer you’re together the more comfortable he gets with it

not a lot but he will hug you in public and kiss the top of your head or your cheek every now and then

loves to cuddle with you

at first he’s very stiff, you can tell he’s holding himself back

he’s just terrified of crushing you or accidentally hurting you, he doesn’t realize how strong he is sometimes especially when he’s sleepy so he tries his best to hold you as gently as possible

never knows where it’s okay to hold you either

you’ll have to show him but that’s okay

his favorite positions to cuddle in are with your body laid directly on his, your head on his chest and his hands on your back

another favorite is spooning you, he can keep his weight off of you while still holding you

very rarely he will lay his head on your lap or chest and just let you hold him and baby him

this is one of your favorite ways to cuddle him, it takes a while for him to get there but that’s when you know he’s really comfortable with you

expect a lot of people avoiding you two in public, mostly out of fear of him

you always make sure to hold your head high with pride and keep a secure hold on his head, reminding him you love him regardless of how others perceive him

he gets insecure sometimes

“I don’t know why you chose me y/n, there are other people out there who you can love without people talking about you behind your back”

please please reassure him

“I don’t want anyone else, I want you. it doesn’t matter to me if people talk behind my back, they’re intimidated by you because they refuse to take the time to get to know you and honestly, I feel bad for them. they’re missing out on an incredible man because of their prejudice. I won’t feel bad for loving you and I don’t want you to feel bad for me loving you.”

will need a lot of reassurance before he feels secure in being worthy of your love tbh

has caught you multiple times cussing someone out for talking badly about him, one time in particular almost brought him to tears

“I just don’t understand y/n you’re gorgeous and he’s... well he’s Aone, he’s big and scary and so rude he doesn’t talk to anyone, he won’t even hug you in public! you deserve someone who isn’t afraid to show you off”

he had been behind the corner, not intending to eavesdrop but unable to help himself, he found himself agreeing with them and feeling like he wasn’t doing enough for you

until you spoke, “it is none of your business who I decide to love, you don’t know him the way I do and that’s your own fault because he is so willing to get to know people who just speak to him,” you snapped, his heart tightening at your words, “you judge him for his height, and his shyness, deeming him as scary and intimidating and rude yet you never step out of your own personal bubble enough to get to know him. never speak to me again.”

that day as he walked you home he asked if you wished he was less intimidating, less shy, more vocal and physical with his love, his insecurities getting the best of him

you reassured him you loved who he was, and there wasn’t a single thing you would change

NSFW: (catered more to those with vaginas but not fully)

at first, he is very stiff, he doesn’t want to hurt you after all

to him, you are small (even if you’re tall pft) and delicate, and he’s large and rough around the edges (lies)

but with lots of patience and kind words from you he opens up

he loves kissing you, he’s a very gentle kisser but when things get heated he’s the type to bite your lip and grip your hips until you’re moaning into his mouth

absolutely adores kissing you while you straddle his lap

loves to mark you up where only he can see, something about leaving such dirty marks on someone he sees as so pure an innocent really does something to him

the first time he ate you out, you felt like your back was going to break from how high it arched off the bed

he kept asking you if you were okay and if he was hurting you, just point him in the right direction or assure him he’s doing wonderful and that you’re not hurt and he will dive right back in

very hesitant to let you suck his dick

“I don’t want to hurt your mouth...”

will offer to let you ride his thigh instead, assuring you he will have no trouble getting off if he gets to watch you get off

ends up being a h u g e kink for the both of you

he gets so horny seeing you get off on just his bare thigh, feeling your wetness drip down the sides of his leg, watching the way your head falls back as you moan in pleasure, he loves loves loves it

when he finally does let you give him a blowjob, he’s so worried about hurting you, you can tell he’s not letting himself enjoy it

so you suck in a deep breath before sinking down to the base of his cock, your nose tickling the hairs above it

he lets out a guttural moan, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly as you look up at him through your lashes, moaning around him

as you slowly work your way back up and down his cock, you’ll feel him start to relax

loves to have his balls played with

cup them while you’re sucking him off, roll your tongue over them, even suck one into your mouth and he’ll be on the edge of his orgasm

not too big on cumming on you, he doesn’t want to get it in your eyes but before he can tell you to let him cum in his hand, you give a particularly harsh suck and he’s cumming down your throat

he’s worried it was too much until you swallow, beaming up at him and moving to his lap to kiss him

i feel like he’s a sub leaning switch tbh

the first time you sleep together, he’s so gentle, making sure you’ve came at least twice from his fingers and mouth before he even takes off his boxers

slow, deep thrusts in missionary, he wants to watch you come undone but wants to be able to see any discomfort too

after awhile, he starts letting himself actually let go of that control when fucking you

loves when you ride him, he has no fear of hurting you when you’re in full control of everything

but also just really loves watching his length disappear between your folds

praise kink out the ass

tell him how good he’s doing, how no one can make you feel this good but him, how much you adore him and his cock, that you love him

he will lose all sense of control and absolutely melt under your words

eventually will be open to trying more kinky things, likes seeing his hand prints on your hips and thighs from holding you a bit too rough but only after you assure him it’s okay and that you like it

mark him up as well, leave nail marks down his back and chest, bites to his shoulder, hickeys anywhere your mouth can reach

he loves it and will not be shy to take off his shirt to change out for practice knowing fully well your marks are e v e r y w h e r e

the type to view sex as more of a romantic sensual thing than just sex, but definitely loves when you two are just too horny to keep your hands off of each other and end up marked all to hell

#aone #aone takanobu #aone x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu reactions #haikyuu!! reactions

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idyllicstarker · 5 years ago

Note

Could you do a selectively mute peter parker fic where peter after years of not speaking finally speaks to Tony to confess that he is in love with him?

I found this extremely hard to write and I’m not too sure why, so I’m sorry if this isn’t too good for you. I hope you can forgive me! Also tumblr said no to paragraphs so I’m sorry about that too!

Warnings: Mute!Peter, very minor sexual implications

Everyone always told him it was a shame that no one had noticed young Peter Parker closing in on himself - maybe then, early intervention could have been taken, and Peter wouldn’t be silent now. In a way they were right, after the death of his parents, Peter had begun to speak less and less. It was a slow, and gradual decline. His speech became shorter, less frequent, but when he did speak, he was smart, for a child, so no one really thought it was a problem. He was sad, not quite old enough to recognise the trauma, but enough to feel the loss and confusion.

When his Uncle Ben died in the fire, well that’s when people really began to notice it. Peter wouldn’t speak, not unless he was called for. His sentences became short, sharp, and straight to the point. Never speaking longer then he needed to.

And then one day they just stopped altogether.

It wasn’t that Peter had lost it, no, he chose this. He chose to go quiet because it just seemed far easier. And although it was a difficult task at first, he soon realised it was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

Not speaking allowed him to listen - pay attention to things he wouldn’t have before, because he didn't have to open his mouth and join in the conversation. He was allowed to just observe for the most part. Of course people still spoke to him, but very few did, they didn’t like it, they found it awkward, or not worth their time. It didn’t matter to Peter. He wasn’t selectively mute to be special, it wasn’t a personality trait or a quirk - he did it because he felt safer when he was locked in his own silence. He knew, at first, if he was to open his mouth everything he felt would spill out, it frightened him. Now, it was a habit, and some days he knew he wouldn't be able to speak even if he wanted to.

Thus, young Peter found other ways to communicate. At first it took a lot of getting used to. Having to scrawl down on paper what he was trying to say; or type into his phone for it to repeat it back aloud; being shouted at by teachers when he wouldn’t answer a question by voice when he was picked on; adults and children alike finding him rude for not replying. Many still thought that, but those close to him, and those in school, knew by now that Peter just wouldn’t speak, no matter how much you shouted or scoffed at him.

Well.. almost everyone. Flash, for example, was still trying to get Peter to speak to him. He called him weird, abnormal; said he was attention seeking, even hitting and kicking him in order to try and get Peter to yell out. But the most he got was a pained whimper or grunt. But it didn’t matter. Peter was still happy. Despite what other people thought.

Meeting Tony had been interesting. Him and his friends had gotten into the habit of learning sign language to communicate. It was helpful and they did it naturally. But Tony, and the rest of the avengers, took a bit of time in understanding Peter. But they never once got frustrated. And Peter was glad - having been asked countless times before why he “wouldn’t just speak”, it was nice to not be questioned for once. They tried, they all did, to be patient with him, and Peter was thankful. In meetings, he’d raise his hand, and Tony would allow him to let his typed out comment repeat his idea aloud, he was never left out of forgotten. Just because he wouldn’t speak, it didn’t mean his ideas went unnoticed, they were listened to and heard, but most of all, appreciated.

“Hey Peter, can you pass me the screwdriver?”

The younger male looked up from his desk in the lab at Tony, who was tinkering away at some device opposite him.

They two quickly fell into some sort of routine in which Peter was there most nights, helping Tony out and just.. as Peter liked to call it: hanging out. It wasn’t just a figment of his imagination, in a way they were actually doing that. Tony sometimes insisted that he slept over, or ate with him. And sometimes, after a particularly long day, they’d settle on the couch and watch a movie. It was everything Peter had ever dreamed of from his idol and more.

Except maybe for the fact that Tony treated him like a son. Now don’t get me wrong, he was flattered, but the crush he was harbouring for the older male, not so much.

Biting down on his lip, Peter nodded his head, despite the fact that he knew Tony wasn’t even looking at him. Grabbing the screwdriver he hopped down from his stool before walking over to pass it to Tony. “Thanks kid”, came the reply, causing Peter to sigh softly.

‘Kid’, he hated it. He hated the word because it only confirmed what Tony thought of him. And as selfish as it was, Peter wanted more. He wanted Tony. Every moment he spent with him he found himself falling madly and madly in love with him and it just didn’t stop. Every accidental touch left energy buzzing through his veins. And it hurt, it hurt so bad, that Tony didn’t feel it too and only saw him as some sort of child.

Moving back to his stool, he sat down, and pulled his tablet towards him. He pressed on the pre command “you’re welcome”, and listened as it emitted the words.

A couple of months back Tony made him the special tablet to make typing out audio quicker. It had precommands for efficiency and Peter could set it to save anything he’d like. Peter almost cried when Tony gave it to him because apart from Ned (who’d learned sign language for him; mj of course already knew it) no one had ever tried that hard to ensure Peter could have a normal conversation with them.

It made everything so much easier. From simply talking to Tony, to answering questions in class, to ordering food in a restaurant.

His fingers brushed over the screen affectionately before his gaze moved over to where Tony was hunched over his workbench. Peter’s lips turned up in a smile at the sight. The man was covered in various smudges of a dark liquid Peter couldn’t identify. His face was scrunched in concentration the way it always was, lips pressed together, eyebrows furrowed together, jaw clenched.

It made Peter laugh softly, typing out a quick sentence. “You need to relax Tony, anyone would think someone is forcing you to work!”

The man looked up with tired eyes, before rolling them slightly. “I am relaxed!”, he protested, before sighing and setting down the screw driver at Peter’s ‘don’t even start with me’ look.

“Alright kid, fine. We’ll finish up for today. We’ll go take showers and then watch a movie, I think Chinese tonight?”

Peter’s smile grew at the offer, shyly tucking some hair behind his ear as he nodded. The smile that grew on Tony’s face had his heart fluttering quite softly. The man was so handsome, from his rugged jawline that Peter desperately wanted to press kisses over, to his eyes. They were always so soft and affectionate when looking at him. Those times when Peter gazed straight back into them were the times where just for a moment he could kid himself that Tony actually felt something back. Something more than pity for the silent kid with the traumatic past. But of course, Tony didn’t, and that was the reality. Tony could have anyone, beautiful men and women alike, he wouldn’t even look twice at little old Peter if he wasn’t his so-called ‘intern’ or on his team.

“Kid?”

Peter blinked quickly as he was snapped from his thoughts at the sound of Tony’s concerned voice. He smiled to show he was okay, before hopping down from his stool. Tony had come to stand in front of him, not sure on why Peter had suddenly lacked life, so when Peter stood, their bodies brushed against each other gently. Peter swallowed, a small blush falling over his pale cheeks, but of course Tony took it as embarrassment at being questioned instead, and laughed.

The sound only made Peter blush harder, shaking his head as he scrunched up his nose before sticking out his tongue - a pattern of expressions Tony had come to know as a playful ‘don’t be mean.’

He smiled softly, reaching out a hand to ruffle Peter’s hair. The boy in turn let out a huff, and swatted his wrist away. Grabbing onto the tablet he began to type before eventually his words sounded out. “You’re a mean old man!”

As soon as Tony heard it, he laughed out loud, shaking his head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and beginning to lead him out of the lab. “I’m not that old, you’re just a baby”, he said in response.

Any other person may protest, or shrug and let it go, but to Peter, he felt a horrible pang in his chest. A baby, that’s all he was to Tony. He smiled sadly, suddenly interested in his beaten up old converse, and yet still overly alert at the fact that he was tucked against Tony’s side - and yes, the man smelt good. Hours in the lab did nothing to Tony’s hygiene, a loss of cologne maybe, but the musky scent of sweat and hard work only delighted Peter.

He swallowed tightly, willing himself to not turn his head so that he could get more and instead began to type once again.

“My therapist is coming tomorrow, so is it alright if I stay over, I don't see the point in leaving and coming back”

Tony nodded his head, “Of course Peter, you know you don’t have to ask”, he hummed softly, and Peter smiled. It was times when Tony said little things like that, that kept him happy.

The therapy began within weeks of Peter and Tony growing closer. Despite still not knowing the direct cause of his silence, let alone working to get him to speak more, it helped him come to terms with the traumatic events of his past. And it helped, it did, Peter was happier, he smiled more. Despite protesting Tony paying for it at first, the man simply shrugged him off. And even now, Tony would say it’s ‘money well spent as long as you’re smiling.’

Eventually they ended up outside Peter’s designated room, and Tony let go. Peter already missed the warmth and safeness he had felt, but of course he simply nodded at Tony’s commands of “take as long as you need, and I’ll meet you downstairs”, as the man walked away.

With a sigh, Peter walked into his room. Setting the tablet down on his desk he closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go trying to hide it. He was certain everyone could see the way his pupils dilated when he looked at Tony, the softer loving smile on his lips, the way he gazed over him longingly. Everyone could see it but Tony.

He’d gone through months of this. Tony being seen with various people, and Peter even seeing some leaving the tower. It was torture for him because he wanted to be the one in Tony’s bed. And yet he couldn’t.

When Peter was done with his shower he made his way downstairs. Tony was already in the lounge, sitting down on the couch, remote in his hand as he seemed to be watching some type of football. He had on grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and Peter had to bite down on his lip because Tony just looked so good when he was relaxed and casual. Don’t get me wrong, the expensive suits were sexy, but the intimacy of seeing Tony like this was always something he didn’t quite get over.

The arms of his hoodie pulled over his fists, he shuffled over to the couch, smiling softly at Tony as he set the tablet beside him.

“Hey kid”, came the greeting, Tony bowing his head slightly, “why don’t you choose something to watch and I’ll order some food. You want the usual?”, he asked.

With a slow movement, Peter took the remote from Tony’s outstretched hand and nodded his head. He remembered… he always remembered what he liked. The thought made his heart swell as he began on to Netflix and tried to concentrate on finding an interesting movie but it was hard when he was so close to Tony’s warm body. The man’s legs were open, leant back against the couch, strong thighs apart. The sinful things Peter would do to get between them.

He clenched his eyes shut. No! He couldn’t be thinking like this. Letting out a soft sigh, he stopped on a movie he thought they both could enjoy before shuffling to cross his legs underneath him.

“You know Pete, me and you don’t really talk. You don’t tell me about yourself.”

Peter was confused at the sudden words, turning his gaze to look over Tony, but the man’s own gaze was down on his phone, seemingly still ordering the food. Licking over his bottom lip, Peter shrugged before beginning to type.

“Well… what do you want to know then?”

Tony smiled, but stayed silent for a moment, before setting his phone down and turning to look at the younger boy.

“Well, I know about your friends. But what about someone special in your life huh? Rumour was it, for a while, that you and MJ were a thing?”, Tony questioned.

The moment Peter received his reply he began to splutter, hitting his chest to try and get his heart to restart. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but, it wasn’t that. His pulse sped up, and suddenly the room was way too warm. Did Tony know? Had he been reading his thoughts or something - no, that wasn’t possible… but this didn’t make sense.

With trembling hands he resumed typing, hoping he wasn’t acting too suspicious. “No.. no, we’re not.. I don’t really like anyone.”

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. “Come on kid that’s gotta be a lie. Look at you. You’re beautiful. Even if you think you don’t like anyone, someone has gotta like you..”

Tony continued but Peter wasn’t really concentrating. He didn’t know if he wanted to blush at being called beautiful by him, or throw up at the questioning. It was a lot, and suddenly Peter didn’t want to be beside Tony at all. He could still hear him talking, but he couldn’t make out anything he was saying. Everything was so blurry, everything felt so out of place. Peter knew now was his moment but his hands couldn’t type. They refused. His heart however was screaming.

It all happened so quickly before Peter could even register he’d done it.

“It’s you. I love you Tony.”

The voice that spoke was quiet, raspy. From years of barely being used. It sounded soft, but yet husky, it hadn’t quite got used to it’s vocal chords. Peters hands were shaking and his eyes widened as he’d realised what he’d done.

One quick glance at Tony, and he noticed the man’s own eyes were wide open too. He clearly hasn’t been expecting to hear Peter actually speak. It was the first time he’d ever heard his voice. But that wasn’t the only reason why he was shocked. That confession… he hadn’t been expecting it.

But Peter knew at that moment he’d messed up - or at least that’s what he thought. He was ready to run, bolting up, but was surprised to feel a hand grab onto his own, and pull him back down. He refused to look at Tony. But he didn’t need to.

A calloused but gentle hand grabbed onto his cheek, angling his head to face him. Yet Tony didn’t speak. Simply leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Peter’s soft lips.

When he pulled away, Peter’s heart was racing. It was like someone let off a firework inside of him. Everything was on fire, in a good way. He was slightly panting as he looked over Tony’s eyes, and then his lips, gently curled into a smile.

“I love you too Peter”, came the gentle words.

Peter’s eyes widened in disbelief, shaking his head, yet Tony only chuckled and pulled him to his chest. Peter let out a soft relieved breath as he turned his nose against his neck to breathe in his scent. He didn’t speak, but Tony wasn’t expecting him to.

“We’ll work on you speaking again, okay?”, Peter nodded. “But please, please don’t hide from me, I want to hear you sweetheart.”

Peter smiled, curling up more against the older man. “Okay”, he croaked out. More confident now, it was obvious.

There was so much more that they needed to discuss, but for now, he was silent, but he knew he didn’t have to be forever.

#starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #skylar writes #skylars asks

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you-know-like-the-bird · 4 years ago

Text

It Gets Bad Before It Gets Worse

A/N: Right so... hello. Been a while since I last posted anything. But! Anyways! This is my little take on Deku joins the League of Villains and how that works out for him. This is only just the USJ incident, and that to not the whole thing, but that’s because I’ve still got to write the last bit (where All Might fights the Nomu) and I really wanted to post this now so... yeah.

I copied this from my word document, but tumblr just- ate up my italicised words? Like they’re still there, but nothing’s italisiced except for this author’s note that I’m typing straight out here on tumblr. I really don’t have the patience to go through this and re-work everything, so I hope it doesn’t mess with the flow of words too much.

But besides that, I hope you enjoy!

Edit: I fixed stuff.

"Kurogiri."

Shota sends out tendrils of his capture scarves and grabs onto two villains, swinging feet first through the space between them and right into a third. By all means, his attention is mostly on the b-lister villains surrounding him, but he's been careful not to let the three bosses out of sight. They haven't tried anything yet, which just mean that they're going to be more trouble later on.

"Take the brat up with you, won't you?" The man with the hands scratches at his neck, a contemplative tilt in his voice as he keeps Shota in his sights just as much as Shota keeps handsy in his.

There's warning lilt in mist-man's tone when he speaks, who Shota silently renames as Kurogiri for when he has to recount this incident for the police reports, hopefully with the villains locked up somewhere near. "Shigaraki..."

"Don't give me that tone!" The hands villain- Shigaraki- snaps, "You're not the leader of this operation. I am."

Kurogiri lets out a weary sigh just as Shota is forced to twist around to dodge a swipe of metal claws meant to dig into his torso, and regrets it immediately when he hears, "As you wish, Shigaraki."

When Shota turns back around, the Kurogiri is gone.

After the shock of, 'holy shit, this is really real' has passed, Class 1-A follows after Thirteen as they all run towards the entrance. They never quite make it there, when purple mist flickers into existence just ahead of them and starts to expands, bigger and bigger until it's like a swirly purple wall towering over them. That's not the last of it though, when Class 1-A watches a teenager who looks about their age step out from the mist.

"Is it time then?"

This is said to the owner of two yellow eyes that blink open in the mist, and voice that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. "There was a change of plans. Shigaraki... wished to have you called in early."

It's the last bit that has all eyes watching the boy, as he in turn watches Kurogiri from over his shoulder. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Deku?"

The boy slowly turns to meet a violent red gaze, and Class 1-A hold their breaths.

For one Izuku Midoriya, it’s like the world slowly halts to a standstill. Suddenly, nothing matters much anymore, not the fact that this is the first attack he's been allowed to participate in, and that too only to watch. Not that he was nervous why Shigaraki wanted him 'called in early'. Not that he was finally supposed to get his irrefutable proof that he hadn't lied to Sensei about All Might's weakness, that he had been loyal. No, none of that matters because Izuku doesn’t even look at the crowd of hero students, just the figure right at the front, with sparking hands that's more flash than boom, for now, and an expression that seems almost surprised to see him.

Izuku looks at Bakugou in fascinated horror, "Kacchan?"

This wasn't- this wasn't how this was supposed to go. Izuku was supposed to pop in and take notes, not come face to face with his childhood bully after almost a year.

Predictably, like it always happened when Kacchan was caught off guard, his expression twists from one of surprise to anger, like how dare Izuku try to pull a fast one on him. If only someone would tell Kacchan that Izuku is just as surprised to see him as Kacchan is to see Izuku, but good luck getting him to believe you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I-" There's that same adrenaline, pumping through using veins, the kind he always got when Kacchan had him by the front of his shirt and was screaming right in his face. But unlike before, where when the anger would come (‘What did I ever do to you?!’) and Izuku would push it down, he doesn't this time.

He hasn't in a long time pushed the anger down.

His eyes narrow and its hard, harder than anything Izuku's ever done, to keep his composure. His voice still trembles, threatening to betray the red-hot fury he feels curling in his gut, but he just about manages to keep that poisonous feeling contained in his hands, in his erratic breathing, but never seeping into his voice, onto his face, into his actions. "I could ask you the same thing Kacchan."

Kacchan goes to speak, give it back to him twice as hard because he never listens, does he? When Kurogiri draws a close to this verbal match of spitting bullets with a polite. "Sorry to interrupt, but me and comrades would appreciate it if you take this seriously."

Kurogiri has the kind of influence that is quiet but intense, which means people listen when he talks. Not only that, everyone realizes that he's clearly the bigger threat between being the warper and the dude who looks like literal middle schooler blocking their paths. Izuku knows rationally that this class of hero hopefuls' best bet right now would be to try and get past him and Kurogiri and to go call for help, but Izuku has enough faith in Kurogiri to handle that. Not that he can do much else, or think much else, because of the anger that just keeps building and building the longer he stands here with Kacchan's red hot glare pinned right on him, greater threat be damned. It should feel gratifying, that he's finally gotten Kacchan to look at him, not just as another thing in his way but a person, but maybe he hasn't. Maybe it had meant nothing at all to Kacchan, when Izuku Midoriya had disappeared off of the face of the Earth about ten months ago, taking nothing but the words of an angry bully with him.

Yeah, that fits the bill, doesn't it? Izuku may have known Kacchan for over 14 fucking years, but he's only ever been just another thing in Kacchan's way to step over on his way to glory. As if Kacchan noticed he was ever gone.

The only time Izuku ever gets to have Kacchan look at him again, acknowledge him again, and Izuku is just another obstacle in his way. Just like it's always been.

"We don't mean to be rude by intruding, but my comrades and I have taken the liberty of paying your school a visit in hopes of putting an end to All Might and his legacy. It seems, however, that he is not currently present."

Izuku can practically see the hypothetical steam of anger coming from Kacchan with his mouth twisted into a fearsome scowl. The boy beside him, with bright red hair that stands straight up as if cut from the face of a rock, mashes his fists together and shouts back, "What makes you think we'll just let you?"

Kurogiri only narrows his eyes, "We were not expecting you to. You are a class of foolish hero hopefuls, after all."

Izuku just about manages to tear his gaze away from Kacchan when Thirteen lifts a finger, and Izuku realizes what's about to come next. Just before he can warn Kurogiri, however, his attention snags on something else. Like Kacchan can't stand attention not being on him for even a second, him and the boy with the tall red hair have launched themselves forward, straight towards Kurogiri, though Izuku barely manages to scramble out of the way when Kacchan points one hand straight in his direction and uses the explosion to boost himself further, uncaring if Izuku gets caught in it. Probably hoping it hit him, actually.

They both manage to get what they think is a hit in and jump back, and the red head shouts, "We're not going to just let you waltz into our school to hurt All Might!"

When Kurogiri clicks his tongue, unhurt because it’d take more than that pathetic display of ego to even bother him, Izuku immediate knows that he's annoyed, but it's especially evident in his flat tone of voice when he speaks. "Very well. If we are clear on our roles." Purple mist sweeps out and covers everybody in a thick cloud. Izuku knows better than to resist it, only hoping that Kurogiri's kind enough not to drop him from somewhere high.

Izuku stumbles when he immerges from the portal, and it's all he can do not to trip and fall face first on the ground. Sensibly, Kurogiri hasn't come with him, probably still handling the handful of people left up at the entrance, because Izuku really still feels like he's going to explode at someone. Logically, he knows that it probably isn't Kurogiri's fault, that the poor man is just following orders and not much else. He may have more sense than one Tomura-fucking-Shigaraki, but that doesn't mean he's the one Sensei favors most.

Of course, speaking of the devil...

"Why did you send me up there?" Each word is bitten off and chewed before being spit out like poison. Izuku wished he could grab Tomura smug fucking face and break it over his knee.

Shigaraki’s smirk is the asshole-ish kind Izuku wished he could kick in, "What? Didn't like the surprise, brat?"

Oh ho ho, it's a very close thing Izuku doesn't just start screaming at this point. He's so angry, "That was not part of the plan."

Shigaraki scoffs, "I'm in charge, I can change the fucking plan."

If Izuku was keeping his cool before, he certainly isn't now, "You can't change it whenever you feel like it Shigaraki!"

Izuku is suddenly grabbed by the throat, and there's a terrifying moment where he wonders if this is it, this is how he dies. At the hands of who's supposed to be a comrade, with no thanks given for the certainly valuable information he'd brought to the League. He'd thought it be enough to get them to trust him, because really, what else did a quirkless loser like him have to offer? But it wasn't nearly enough, not by word of mouth alone that All Might was slowly dying of a grievous old injury that Sensei himself had given him. After all, what argument Izuku have to justify just why All Might would give that information to some random middle schooler he once saved?

But while Tomura looked like he would gladly put down his raised pinkie against Izuku's throat to complete his set of five, he doesn't yet. "Don't talk back to me like you've got any authority, brat."

Izuku's breathing has slowed to a halt, painfully aware of the fingers around his neck and the one finger that isn't, could so easily be put down and turn him to dust. But, even then, with nothing much left to lose except a mother who will now know for sure her child is dead instead of just missing, Izuku meets a single red eye peeking out from under a severed hand with his own determined green ones. Shigaraki doesn't scare him, and even if he does, like hell Izuku will give him the satisfaction of seeing the proof of it on his face.

"Are you just going stand there boss? We're not doing quite so well here." This comes from a woman who's desperately trying to keep an eye on the pro hero culling their ranks with extreme prejudice while calling back for help. But Izuku knows Shigaraki, full on expects the scoff that comes from him as he doesn't move a single fucking finger to help his 'party'. He just watches, with that hungry red gaze of his, as if all he wants is to hold the world in his hands and watch it crumble, cannot fathom why this vision of his has not yet come to fruition. As if the world should come to serve him, and only put up just enough of a challenge to make it 'fun' for him. Izuku manages to turn his head, neck still under Shigaraki's hands but as if this is the first time he's pushed the man hard enough to come close to death by decay, and watches as not a moment later Eraserhead swiftly takes out the woman who had dared to call out for help.

Shigaraki clicks his tongue, and spares a glance at Izuku, "You were told to watch, weren't you? Then watch how a real villain does it."

He pushes Izuku back roughly, leaving him to stand there with a hand rising to carefully press against his throat with the threat to it finally gone, as Shigaraki takes off straight for the pro hero standing ready for him, thinking he's prepared for someone as bat-shit insane as Shigaraki Tomura. From what little Izuku has seen, Eraser's doing pretty well so far, especially for an underground hero who specializes in stealth and springing surprise attacks onto villains from the cover of the shadows. He'd almost think that this was where Eraserhead thrives, except he knows better, can see it in the desperate way the man moves that this is far from his kind of game. No, as heroes do still surprise Izuku from time to time, Eraserhead’s probably down here trying to buy time for the students to get away, which they probably won't, not if Kurogiri's got anything to say about it.

Shigaraki grabs onto the first tendril of Eraser's scarf sent his way, and Eraser sends another only to duck under it as he manages to elbow Shigaraki right in the stomach. It's when this happens, that a flash of green against the plain brown terrain and a muffled croak catch his attention. Izuku looks to where the sound came from and sees round green eyes poking up from the edge of the raised platform, and feels his own eyes widen first in surprise, but then in panic.

Oh no.

He wonders if the girl crouched at the edge of this fight is alone, only to catch sight of something round and purple just behind her. What are these kids doing? Don't they know it's dangerous to just stand there like that, begging to get noticed by the manic villain willing to fell anyone and anything just because he finds them annoying? Don't they care that they're teacher is trying to give them a chance to get away, and they're squandering it by crouching at the edge of this fight?

The girl's gaze catches his and her own eyes widen. Probably because he's a villain too and he's obviously seen them. He looks back at Shigaraki just in time for the villain to say, "You're getting slower Eraserhead. It's hard to tell with those goggles of yours, but I've figured out your tell." He glances back at Izuku, and Izuku manages to wrangle his expression into something carefully blank. Shigaraki continues, having made sure that Izuku's watching, "Your hair falls back down in the intervals when you stop using you quirk." Izuku let's out heavy breath, because he knows Shigaraki is right, he'd noticed that too. And its then that Eraserhead's hair falls back over his face, while Shigaraki still has his elbow in a five-finger grip, and oh- Izuku knows what comes next. He tries to catch the girl's gaze again, but she's watching in horror as first his sleeve and then Eraserhead's skin starts to crumble away at the elbow. The hero jumps away, but Shigaraki's point has definitely been made.

A few of the low lifes that they most definitely picked from the streets for the sole purpose of playing cannon fodder surround Eraser again as Shigaraki carefully backs away. Eraserhead doesn't notice Shigaraki make a subtle gesture at the Nomu that has the tall beast finally move from somewhere behind him. For how big it is, the Nomu can be pretty sneaky when it wants to be, because Eraserhead doesn't notice it take position a few feet behind him as he handles the few of the street thugs still left standing.

Shigaraki has a smile in his voice, which Izuku can only tell because he sounds real fucking smug when he says, "If you think I'm the final boss Eraser, you're sorely mistaken."

And really, Izuku should have seen this coming, but he doesn't, and flinches back when Eraser turns back just a second too late, because it doesn't matter anyways when the Nomu is built to match All Might's speed. The Nomu puts the hero to the ground faster than Izuku can blink, the arm with the decayed elbow in gripped tightly with one of hand and his other holding Eraserhead’s head down. Izuku wonders how the girl and the other person with her are taking this, and if they regret sticking around for this final act, but he can't take his eyes off this scene without the fear of missing something important. It feels... wrong. Putting down a hero like Eraserhead, who only ever jumped into this fight to make sure his students had a chance, who's a great fucking hero anyways. The part of Izuku that will always be a fanboy seethes that this his own fault, that if he can't deal with the consequences then he shouldn't have made the choice to be here in the first place, but it's never that simple, not really. So Izuku watches, some part of him begging him to step forward and maybe try to reason with Shigaraki about sparing Eraserhead, but the more sensible part of him knows it's pointless. Shigaraki only ever does what he wants to, and there's a huge chance that if Izuku tries to tell him not to do something, he'll only ending up doing it just to spite him.

The Nomu slams Eraserhead's face into the concrete and Izuku let's out a shaky sigh, a sick feeling starting to churn in his stomach at the pool of blood that slowly inched outwards from where Eraser's head hit the ground. He glances back over to where the girl is and sees her staring at the scene with wide eyes, two hands clasped over her mouth in horror.

There's a flicker of something purple somewhere behind Shigaraki, which grows outwards in the air like how moss spreads over a stone wall, until Kurogiri stands there in a cloud of purplish smoke and intones, "Shigaraki Tomura."

Shigaraki slightly tilts his head to show that he's listening.

Kurogiri sounds almost apologetic, which is rare enough that Izuku's temporarily distracted from keeping an eye on the girl and the person with her that he's only caught a brief glimpse of until now. "I'm afraid that I let one student slip past. I believe he has most likely gone to get help."

Shigaraki's hands suddenly jerk up until the fingers dig into the sides of his neck, and Izuku can't help but make a face as he starts scratching them with slowly growing intensity. It's a habit of his that Kurogiri has been trying to get him to break, but has been unsuccessful so far.

"Kurogiri..." Shigaraki's voice is dark with malintent, "If you weren't the warp gate I would kill you."

Kurogiri shows no outward reaction to the threat, except the shifting of his features like a turbulent sea of purple. It makes it hard to get a read on him, without facial expression to use as a gauge of his mood, but Izuku likes to think he's gotten to know Kurogiri well enough to think he might just be the slightest bit amused right about now. None the less, familiar with the sentiment of Shigaraki being upset with him for one thing or another, Kurogiri ignores the murderous gleam in Shigaraki's eye and simply continues, "The other pro heroes will most likely be arriving soon, and we are not equipped to handle them with our... dwindling numbers. It is best if we take our leave."

Shigaraki lets out a low growl, his eyes pinballing wildly between the Nomu, Eraserhead and Izuku. "Game over, huh? Fine, we'll wrap up."

And Izuku doesn't even get a chance to relax at the prospect of Shigaraki finally being sensible for once and retreating at a fortunate time, because there's a mean look in his eye as his gaze lands on Izuku, then past him. Right over to where...

The girl.

"But I think we should leave behind a message for All Might first."

In the blink of an eye, Shigaraki has sprinted half the distant to the girl who just stands there, frozen in shock. That's when a harried cry rips from Izuku's throat as he goes stumbling after Shigaraki, "No!"

But it's too late, because Shigaraki already has his fingers splayed over the girl's face, and it never gets easier. That heart wrenching terror of the just before, a nanosecond where after Shigaraki's quirk kicks in and turns everything to dust.

Except that this time, it doesn’t kick in.

Izuku, frozen stiff and expecting a dead young girl with her head turned to dust in the air, but instead meeting eyes blown wide in terror but still very much alive, watches Shigaraki turn slowly to look behind him. His gaze stalls on Izuku just for a second but a second is enough to tell Izuku that his little outburst has not gone unnoticed, before passing over him over to where Eraserhead's face is lifted off the ground. It's nothing short of a miracle, how he's managed to look up even with the Nomu's death grip still wound into his hair, and his eyes are an angry bloodshot, but he's still here, still looking, still having saved that girl's life.

"You're so cool Eraserhead."

And finally, Izuku finds his voice, "L-let her go Shigaraki."

Shigaraki's lilting tone immediately sours back into a scowl, but he still doesn't let go. "Nobody asked you, brat."

It makes Izuku's resolve only steel, because he didn't sign up for anyone dying today except maybe a fully-fledged pro hero, "I'm not asking either, Shigaraki, let her go."

"You-" Shigaraki's angry snarl is cut off when there's a loud bang from the direction of the entrance that draws their attention. It's also at this moment that the girl flinches back, no longer frozen in fear like she had been before. Or maybe she was afraid Shigaraki would so something much worse if she had moved, which she might not have been wrong about. The girl leaps back, far enough that Izuku knows her quirk gives some sort of boost for that jump, but Shigaraki only watches her go, half his attention still on the sounds coming from the entrance.

They don't have to wait too long to find out what happened, when a figure larger than life steps into view at the top of the stairs and booms, "So fear not students! Because I am here!"

But oh, Izuku realizes with a sliver of fear even with an insurance like the Nomu to back them, All Might is not smiling.

A/N: I’m so sorry for people who didn’t want to read this and had to scroll all the way dow but I cannot for the life of me figure out how to insert a read more right now. I’ll edit this later to do that when I can.

#bnha #villain Deku #villain Izuku #Izuku Midoriya #my hero academia #Bakugou Katsuki #All Might #shigaraki tomura #League of Villains

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