#she was thankful for the bugs and their quiet songs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

Note

Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.

So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!💜☺

LEGACY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: literally what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him

ᯓ★ Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Your whole life, you’ve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. You’re seventeen now, but you still feel like you’re stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your mom—who’s always been more into herself than anyone else—has a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until you’re barely holding it together.

Her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—is the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make his point clear. It’s in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if it’s his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and it’s only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. To him, you’re a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and he’s got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.

Your mom’s always been…complicated. You’ve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but it’s like she’s just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if you’re some kind of mirror she doesn’t want to face.

It’s your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. It’s like looking into a warped mirror—she can see pieces of herself in you, but you’re everything she’s never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesn’t let things slide. And it grates on her.

The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she can’t control you, can’t manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she should’ve never had. You don’t let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that you’re on your own.

Then one day, it’s too much. Travis and your mom are fighting—again. It’s loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and you’re in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. You’ve been in this situation enough to know that’s never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.

“You know he’s not even mine, right?” Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to put up with this kid? He’s not my responsibility!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your mom’s voice is strained, like she’s barely holding on herself. “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—but he’s just…he’s too much. I can’t handle it anymore.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, you think maybe she’ll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.

“Then get rid of him,” Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. “You’ve got the kid’s birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dad’s. He’s rich, isn’t he? Let him deal with the brat.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. There’s no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect what’s happening. She’s made her choice, and it’s not you.

The next morning, she’s silent as she hands you an envelope. There’s no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you she’s already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You don’t even ask where you’re going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.

Stark Tower.

It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man she’s always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life who’s only ever been a name, and now he’s your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.

You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paper—the birth certificate that’s somehow supposed to mean you’re his problem now. You feel like you’re stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didn’t even know you were a part of. There’s no going back, though. That’s clear enough.

So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.

Tony doesn’t even get a chance to process it at first. One moment he’s sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex that’s keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressed—like maybe it’s his fault, which Tony wouldn’t be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."

Then he sees you.

You’re leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression that’s somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. It’s not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; he’s spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesn’t really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.

For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.

“Seventeen years,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “And now you’re here because…?”

You shrug, clearly unimpressed. “Mom didn’t want me anymore, and apparently, you’re my dad. So… here I am. Congratulations.”

You’re blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you don’t expect anything from him and don’t care if you get it. But he can’t look away from you. For the first time in a long time, he’s out of his depth. He’s had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes he’s never prepared himself for this. He’s never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.

Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your mother’s words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Well, kid,” he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, “looks like you’ve officially joined the Stark family. There’s no going back now.”

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. He’s reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone who’ll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a “cool dad.” He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, “Stark-style,” he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.

He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that you’re nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But that’s as far as it ever goes.

Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan “cool,” which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.

Tony tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard. You’re right there, his kid, yet you’re worlds away, keeping him at arm’s length as if he’s just another adult you can’t trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but it’s wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. You’re always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. It’s sleek, metallic—one of his newer designs.

“Mini reactor prototype. You’d be the first to use it.” He says it with pride, like he’s giving you something no one else in the world could get.

You look at it for a moment, then at him. “Cool,” you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.

Tony’s grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare he’s come to know well. He’s finally reaching his breaking point. “Y’know, I’m trying here,” he says, exasperated. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, connect. Be… whatever it is you need me to be. But you’re acting like I’m just another stranger.”

You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expression—like maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.

“Maybe that’s because you are,” you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.

Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. “Fair enough,” he says, though there’s a sting in his voice. “I can’t change the past, but… I’m here now. I’m not gonna just… walk away.”

The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. You’ve heard promises like this before. You’ve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that you’ll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.

As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laugh—but the moment always passes too quickly, and you’re back behind that wall before he can push any further.

He’s persistent, though, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you haven’t used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.

Tony doesn’t quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like someone’s just waiting for the moment they can leave.

Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and it’s nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. It’s become a routine, one you can’t escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesn’t have to do it. He’s always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, “It’s my job as a dad,” or “I just want to see the kid off,” as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.

And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates you’ve known for years suddenly gawking at you like you’re a different person. They don’t know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Stark’s kid. It’s suffocating. You’ve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyone’s waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.

Only one person seems to still see you, really see you—your best friend, Sam. You’ve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. He’s the only one who doesn’t treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.

One afternoon, you’re sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tony’s car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they don’t quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.

Sam nudges you. “So, uh… you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I’m just… keeping my distance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like he’s about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And you’re over here acting like he doesn’t exist.”

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. “He’s only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. It’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You really believe that? You think he’s the kind of guy who’d waste his time on someone he doesn’t care about?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel Sam’s eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. He’s always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing you want.

“He’s trying, Y/N,” Sam continues, his voice softer. “Like, really trying. And I get it. I get that you’ve been burned, but… maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s gonna run off if you tell him what’s going on.”

You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You don’t want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chance—that’s always been a dangerous game, one you’re not sure you can afford to play again.

That night, you’re lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Sam’s words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than you’ve been giving him. You’ve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. He’s there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.

Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.

Tony’s hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. It’s only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.

“Hey, kid,” he says, setting down his tools. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, there’s only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you’re trying. It’s just… it’s not easy for me.”

Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“When I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought… I thought she cared about me, even if she didn’t always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasn’t… he wasn’t a good person, Tony. He… he made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. “He told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she… she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.”

Tony’s face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.

“I learned not to trust people,” you say, voice wavering. “Every time I thought someone would stick around, they didn’t. So I stopped… I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, there’s no mask, no shield—just raw vulnerability, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

“And then I showed up here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “And you… you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And it��s… it’s confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other part…” You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know he’s there. “Y/N,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t change what you went through. I can’t go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—a fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.

“It’s not easy for me,” you murmur. “It’s… it’s hard for me to trust people. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. But… I want to try. I want to believe you. I just… I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I’m not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. You’re my son, and I’m here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?”

The words settle around you, a warmth you haven’t felt in years. You don’t have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really won’t walk away. And even though the walls around your heart don’t come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.

After that night, things start to change. It’s slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but there’s a noticeable shift between you and Tony. You’re still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesn’t push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.

The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of you—normally a breeze, something you’d get done in a few minutes. But today, you’ve left a few problems untouched, hoping he’ll notice.

Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Need a hand with that?” he asks, and there’s a careful lightness to his voice, like he’s trying to keep things casual, so he doesn’t scare you off.

You shrug, trying to act indifferent. “Sure, if you’ve got time,” you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesn’t call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.

For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells you he’s thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.

As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you don’t feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. It’s like learning a new language, one he’s eager to teach you, and he’s a surprisingly patient teacher.

One afternoon, he’s working on a new suit upgrade, and you’re watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. You’re deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.

“Thinking of joining the family business?” he jokes, tossing you a wrench. “If you’re interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.”

You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I will,” you say, feeling a rush of warmth that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like he’s sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.

One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, you’d power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, heading down to Tony’s lab.

When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. “What’s up?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. “This stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.” He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. “Thermodynamics, huh? You sure you’re not just here for the riveting conversation?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you both know the truth, and there’s an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesn’t just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you don’t have to go back to your empty room just yet.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you’re not just learning about science. You’re learning about him—about his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about. He’s not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. He’s… Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.

Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.

One day, you’re both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. You’re getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.

At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice, “you’re pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you don’t brush it off. “Maybe,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “But I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “Yeah, well… you’re not a bad student either.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesn’t need words. You know he’s trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.

A few days later, you’re working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints he’s obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. “With calculus? Pretty sure I’ve got this covered.”

He shrugs, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirk, half-teasing. “Care to prove it?”

Tony grins, and before you know it, he’s pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and he’s more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like he’s just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.

Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I think we’ve both learned a lot today,” he says, stretching dramatically.

“Yeah,” you reply, smirking. “Like the fact that you’re worse at calculus than I am.”

Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to keep fighting him off.

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. “Thanks for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you don’t shy away. “Thanks for not giving up,” you reply quietly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Nah, you’re a piece of cake. Besides, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, “Just another day in the office.” But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.

You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, it’s different. He’s outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchor’s voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.

Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. You’re used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Stark’s son. But this… this is different. This isn’t the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that he’ll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, you’re faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.

After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. He’s moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But he’s here.

Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that you’re moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, he’ll disappear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. “I’m okay, kid. I’m here.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and he’s looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.

“Dad…” you whisper, voice breaking slightly, “don’t ever… don’t ever do that again. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tony’s face softens, his own eyes welling up. He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time you’ve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth he’s been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.

After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. “You called me ‘Dad,’” he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if he’s just received the greatest gift in the world.

You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.

He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m already used to it,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go, kid. Not ever.”

In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels like—right here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.

I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 10 months ago

Note

Awlful, awful thought: A guilt-wracked Vaggie, trying to stay as quiet as possible in Charlie's bed as she cries herself to sleep. Wishing that she could bring up the courage and confess her sins to her girlfriend, who obviously deserves SO much better...

you put that thought back where it came from or SO HELP ME-

ugh, listen, i can see this horrible progression where at first it's Vaggie hiding (and failing but she doesn't know it) that she cries, and then it's Vaggie lying (a tiny little lie she thinks) about WHY she cries

them as strangers / new tentative friends and it took SO MUCH WRANGLING for Charlie just to get the dumpster woman to stay over with her while getting used to life with one eye instead of wandering off back onto hell's streets like Vaggie was ready to, and then getting her to use a couch instead of the floor, then finally the giant bed with a pillow propped between them

this is already a miracle enough, this is already more than she's ever gotten any other sinner to accept (and thank her for? and share a smile with her over it????)

so when she hears Vaggie's breath hitch in the middle of the night like she's hurt Charlie starts sitting up with her instinct to jump RIGHT INTO HELPING like usual- but Vaggie goes dead quiet the moment she moves and Charlie freezes, the sudden cold thought Vaggie doesn't WANT her to hear. Vaggie's been letting Charlie closer but maybe her not wanting Charlie to hear this (yet?) is part of why she's been so reluctant to stop sleeping in random corners of the house, and what if she packs up (metaphorically speaking, technically she has nothing) and leaves if Charlie spooks her now? Would Charlie ever find her again?

that's the first time Charlie lies awake listening to Vaggie cry softly to herself for half the night, pretending she doesn't hear it

it's not the last.

Because Vaggie ends up staying, with Charlie SPECIFICALLY, and it's a different kind of friendship than Charlie's used to- it's not Vaggie tolerating her ideas or her dreams or her wild bursts into song, it's Vaggie troubleshooting her ideas and agreeing with (!) her dreams (though she isn't as hopeful about it) (that's more than anyone has done since Lilith left-) and it's even Vaggie enjoying her silliness, joining in on a song with her,

a sad little song about a grown woman missing being close with her parents because having a friend like this is making her homesick for everything else she used to have-

but Vaggie doesn't roll her eye at the poor princess of hell she holds Charlie's hand when Charlie tears up, she just seems to like being around Charlie? even for the pity parties??? (Charlie for the love of all therapy i a m begging you go to THERAPY)

Vaggie is clearly missing something too though, and cries about it less often now- or

(a thought to keep Charlie awake all night when it comes to her)

is better at crying about it quietly so Charlie really doesn't hear her

and it's too much for Charlie to risk losing but it's also why Charlie rolls over that night, casual, casual, and pretends to be asleep as her hand drapes over that invisible line to just brush Vaggie's arm, and why she goes on pretending to sleep as Vaggie flinches, tenses, then lets out a breath and doesn't pull away.

it's the only way for Charlie to get any sleep now- making sure Vaggie won't feel completely alone, even if she won't let Charlie be there for her (Yet)

it's a short road from that to waking up snuggled together, because Charlie's a cuddle bug and Vaggie's surprisingly smug about being cuddled (by her), so Charlie's frantic pillow wall of privacy instantly falls the next night to laughter and a pillow fight, and their game of betting if they'll wake up in each others arms again also doesn't last long (because they always do) (this is NOT like friendships Charlie is used to) and soon Vaggie is hauling them both out of bed on her good days while groggy Charlie clings to her like a very stubborn blanket and

there's not much room for hiding tears like this. the lie comes out not long after.

Vaggie's bad days are things Charlie happily makes way too many sticky notes about: collecting Tired Vaggie or Grumpy Vaggie or Bumped Into Furniture One Too Many Times Needs To Go Beat Up The Nearest Dumpster With Her Spear Vaggie, or Vaggie Gluing Herself To The Nearest High Spot While She Broods (her small smile means more when it doesn't come out until Charlie's spent an hour sitting up there with her, chatting and pointing out landmarks like hell isn't that bad and everything can be okay)

and Charlie has bad days too (tries not to) (feels guilty about having them when she ISN'T even alone anymore) but lately her worst start with dried tears on the collar of her pajama shirt and Vaggie sounding a little bit more hoarse than usual in the morning

so it's not some, sudden nighttime feelings ambush. It's not Charlie waking up in the night to Vaggie crying and suddenly having the courage to pull her a little bit closer

it's Charlie having a bad day, afterwards, and Vaggie finding her hunched up in bed. (their bed)

It's Vaggie slipping quietly (worriedly) out of the shadows with a soft hey and are you okay? and getting hit with yes- no- does Vaggie know she can get up out of bed whenever she wants at night? she can wake Charlie up and leave and that's completely fine, if she wants to be alone for a bit, and then come back for snuggles after- or they can sleep separate or-

maybe it's the first time Vaggie reaches up to cup Charlie's cheek and ground her spiraling, maybe it's the first real jolt of fear Vaggie's felt since being eye-level with a sword. maybe not, but it gets her asking Charlie what the fuck are you talking about?

and then it's the truth-

Charlie can't stop thinking about Vaggie hiding her tears for her sake. it's fine if Vaggie doesn't trust Charlie with them- (yet) (someday?) (it's amazing Vaggie has put trust in Charlie at ALL)- but she should at least feel able to CRY when she wants to.

-and it's the lie.

Vaggie does trust Charlie. a small tiny lie that's mostly truth-

(she trusts Charlie is a good person) (she's scared of what that means) (she hasn't been a good person) (she isn't being one now)- she tells Charlie she cries because she misses her wings and the scars hurt and she hides it because there's nothing to be done about it, if they were coming back (for her) they would've by now (she DOESN'T want them to come for her she WOULDN'T leave if they did, if they offered-) (would she?) but they aren't so, (it's been too long) why waste her and Charlie's time being sad about it?

(how can she even still be SAD about it-)

I could hear Charlie whispering back something along the lines of, time with with you is never wasted, not to me. And, I want to be there with you, like you are when I need you.

I won't say this is when they both went Oh or even when maybe someone leaned forward a little and someone else met them half way, they're the sort of couple where it could have happened a in a million different times and places and it doesn't really matter

but afterwards, when Vaggie cries at night she doesn't hide it anymore

(now she knows she can't) (she can't hurt Charlie like that)

so some nights she sobs quietly into Charlie's shoulder while Charlie rubs soothing circles into old scars and holds her tight and the sickness over the lie that turned out bigger than she thought almost makes it worse than crying alone

(almost) (not quite)

those are the nights where she dreams of a sword and torn off feathers. other nights, Vaggie shuts her one eye and refuses to let any tears fall

some nights she dreams of damning wings on her back and Charlie turning away from her

she can't face Charlie or her love on those nights.

so she doesn't let herself cry at all

#hazbin hotel #chaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angst #headcanon ideas #.......#ANYWAY #ughhhh

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cyripticchronicler · 1 year ago

Text

Moonlit Redemption - Sirius Black

You and Sirius are not supposed to like each other, it's against your instincts, so why does your heart flutter whenever he's around?

A/N My longest fic yet! It was supposed to be James X Reader, but it made more sense with Sirius.

Warnings: Kissing

Masterlist

The Forbidden Forest was alive in the dark hours of the night. The moonlight reflected off the branches, shrouding you in tapestries of shadow and light. The forest was silent, a light breeze cooling you down as you climbed trees and chased bugs.

Nights like these were your favourite, where you had no worries, no pestering school boys to bother you. It was just you and nature.

Being an Animagus was thrilling. Sure, the process of getting registered was long, and you’d rather be something other than a white ragdoll cat, but roaming around Hogwarts grounds with no one to question you is a blessing in itself.

You were out for your nightly walk, choosing to adventure into the Forbidden Forest instead of the usual walk you take around Hogwarts School.

Other cats roamed the school and, as if sensing you weren't a full cat, they’d attempt to fight you. So after a particularly horrid day, you decided to adventure somewhere else so you don't have to deal with the attempted catfights.

You’ve only spent half an hour here, but you know you’ll be coming back. The cool wind surrounded you as you lay down, back against a tree, rough tree bark grounding you. You stretch your legs out, a quiet meow leaving your mouth.

It was so lonely and comforting you could feel yourself falling asleep, eyes fluttering shut- “Prongs!”

Your head snaps up, a hiss leaving your mouth at the interruption. Thankful for the ability to see in the dark, you turn your head to look for the intruder. But no one was there, if it wasn't for the sound of tree branches snapping in the distance, you would have thought you imagined it.

“Padfoot?” Another voice shouts out, much closer than you liked. “You lost? C’mon, lose your dog senses to find me.” The stranger laughs.

Slowly, you round the tree, eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

James Potter stands a few feet away, leaning against a tree lazily like he’s bored. He’s kicking the leaves around him, humming a random song as if he’s waiting for something.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Sirius Black comes into view, clothes ripped and a bright smile on his face.

“Found you-” He cuts himself off with a growl, head whipping around to stare at you. You hide behind the tree with a powerful hiss causing Sirius to growl louder.

It was dog instinct to growl at a cat but you still got offended. How dare he growl at me.

You know who he is, after seeing him transform once near the Whomping Willow. You’re just not sure if he knows who you are.

James laughs, strutting towards you as you try to hide further behind the tree. His hands reach out to grab you and you attempt to run away but he’s faster, holding you against his chest as he walks towards Sirius.

He lifts you so you’re face to face with Sirius and you hiss, claws out as you try to scratch at anything you can get your hands on.

“Can’t handle a cat? Look how cute she is.” James pouts. You growl, turning around to scratch at his face, meowing in triumph as he lets you go with a curse.

You don’t waste a second in running off, ready to fall asleep in your comforting bed.

“That one’s different. I just don't know how.” You hear Sirius mutter as you leave.

—

You wake up with a start, hair in a tangled mess above your head. Rubbing your sleep-infused eyes, you start to get ready for school. Making quick work so you don’t miss breakfast. You join your friends at the Gryffindor table, sitting just a few people away from the people you’ve been trying to avoid.

James is laughing loudly at something Sirius said while Remus reads, lips pursed as if trying not to laugh. You smile lightly in amusement before turning back to your food.

Too enraptured in the story Lily is retelling, you don’t notice the curious look Sirius sends you. You’ve never talked before, he knows that, but then why does he get the sense that he knows you?

—

You’ve stuck to roaming around Hogwarts Castle instead of the Forbidden Forest in hopes of avoiding another run-in with James and Sirius.

But now your run-ins have been with cats. Mean ones. No matter how hard you try to get them to like you, they still hiss whenever you’re around.

This is what brings you to the library on a Saturday morning, roaming the shelves in hopes of finding a book about how to get cats to like you.

It's stupid I mean you’re Animagus form is a cat, you should know how to get cats to like you already. But the books have some tips you could use. Maybe you could catch a random rat and gift it as a peace offering.

Determined, you slam the book shut, planning to take it back to your room for more tips. Too busy in your planning to notice the people standing a few feet away, you abruptly halt right in front of Sirius Black, James behind him with Remus.

Sirius growls and you scowl back, trying to ignore the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

James cuts in with an awkward laugh. “Sorry about him. He usually doesn't go around… growling at people.”

“You,” Sirius scowls causing Remus to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Me?” You play dumb, shifting on your feet nervously. Only a few people know about your other form, including Ms McGonagall and Lily and you’d prefer to keep it that way.

“You were in the forest, except you were smaller and had more hair,” Sirius states, over his shoulder you can see James’ eyes widen in realisation and silently curse.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” “Having trouble making friends?” It’s James who speaks now, gesturing to the book in your hand. You move How to Get Cats to Like You behind your back.

“I have to go. Have a nice day.” You smile awkwardly, pushing past James in hopes of getting away as fast as possible.

But Sirius has other plans, gripping your wrist tightly but not enough to hurt you.

“Sirius,” Remus warns.

“You alright, Padfoot?” You smile mockingly.

He ignores you, “You’re in my potions class.” Your shields lower slightly at his civil tone, shoulders relaxing.

“Yeah, why?” He ignores you again causing you to roll your eyes. “I didn’t know there were Animagus at this school.”

“You mean besides you two?” At his shocked look, you continue, “You might want to check your surroundings before you transform.”

James buts in, pushing Sirius behind him, “You should hang out with us sometime. You’re friends with Lily, right?”

You laugh slightly, “I am. I would hang out with you but I don't think your friend would like that.” James goes to open his mouth but Sirius cuts him off, “I wouldn't mind. As long as you leave me alone.” You scoff.

“If I ever see you again, I might say hi, but I’m not putting in a good word to Lily for you James. I have to go, see you later Remus.” “Bye, Raggy.” You playfully scoff at the nickname, walking away hurriedly.

“You know her?” Sirius asks Remus questionably.

He nods. “Yeah. She saw me transform back like months ago. We’re good friends, actually.”

James and Sirius stare at him in shock, “And you never told us?”

He shrugs, searching the bookshelves. “You never asked.”

—

You let out a startled laugh at the sight in front of you. You decided to adventure to the Whomping Willow tonight, befriending the Castles cats still not successful. You’ve seemed to arrive right on time.

Sirius and James, both in their Animagus forms, seem to be playfighting. The black dog a whirl of darkness as he rounds the Stag, tongue out, tailing wagging. The stag seems to be getting dizzy, turning on wobbly feet as he tries to track the dogs' movements.

On impulse, you creep closer, crouching so they can't see you. You track the dogs' movements, trying to get the timing right.

With no hesitation, you jump, meowing in delight when you land at the right time, small arms wrapped securely around Sirius’ fluffy neck.

He stops abruptly, causing you to go flying forward. You hit the ground with a screech, turning back into your human form as you attempt to control your laughs.

From the corner of your eye you can see Sirius and James transform back too, the latter doubled over with laughter.

“That wasn’t funny.” He scowls, lips pursed to try to hide his laughter.

“You’re face and the way she screeched,” James wheezes from behind you, still dying of laughter.

A laugh finally breaks out of Sirius and you grin in triumph. Noting you’re still on the floor, Sirius offers you his hand and you take it gratefully.

You keep holding his hand for a second longer than necessary.

“Where’s Remus?” You question, looking around for a glimpse of him.

“Prefect duties,” Sirius mutters eyebrows furrowed as he watches you look for Remus. Your shoulders slump in disappointment at the thought of not seeing your friend. You wanted to talk about the latest book you read.

“You don't like him, do you?” Sirius asks you, eyes still on your face.

“In a friendly way, yes. Why? You jealous?” You tease, eyes widening when he hesitates. Your heart thumps at the thought of him being jealous.

“Ew, no. I don’t like cats.” The words are venom on his tongue, your heart squeezes harshly in your chest.

“Well, I don't like smelly dogs.” You snark, crossing your arms as you face him properly. He copies you, scowl on his face.

He opens his mouth to retaliate- “Can you guys fuck already.”

Cheeks red, you whip around to face James who’s recovered from his laugh attack. Ignoring the glare on Sirius and your faces, he continues, “Look, I love the enemies-to-lovers trope but come on. You guys are both free on Saturday, how about you go to Hogsmeade together?”

“Why would I willingly do that?” You ask.

“Because I’ll give you money.”

You shrug, “Okay.” Looking at Sirius, you send him a pointed look.

He stares at you intensely, eyes roaming over your face. “...Fine.”

James grins in triumph, “Yay!”

—

“Do you want butterbeer?” Sirius asks, tone dry as he stands a few feet away like if he gets too close, he’d die.

You shuffle closer just to annoy him. “Yes, please.”

Surprisingly, you’ve been having fun. Or you have, at least. You’ve been to a few stores already, and you’ve bought something from every one. Your bag on your shoulder is stuffed with various candies and a new blanket for when it gets cold in your dorm. Sirius hasn't got anything, choosing to blankly stare at the items instead.

“Tell me a secret,” You grin as you slide into a booth at the Three Broomsticks.

“Why would I do that?” Sirius asks from the other side of the table.

You ignore him. “You know I’ve noticed you’re only grumpy with me. No one else.”

His eyes soften ever so slightly, “You’re a cat.”

“You pet the cats around Hogwarts all the time,” You state, taking a sip of your butterbeer.

He looks offended at your accusation, “I have not.”

You nod your head confidently, “Yes you have. My new cat friends told me.”

That's right, your new cat friends. Turns out all you needed was a rat to be included in the clique.

Sirius lets out a breathless laugh, “Glad to see that book worked.”

You grin, smile fading as you think. “No, seriously, why do you hate me?”

As much as you try to deny it, you like him, and it hurts that he despises you so much.

He sighs, “I don't hate you.”

“Yes, you do-” “I can’t get you out of my head, I’m always thinking about you. I’m hoping that once I push you away, you’ll stay out of my head.”

You smile sadly, “Is it that bad?”

“Yes.”

You attempt to laugh it off, “I can’t be that bad.”

“You are.”

Oh. “I just realized the time, I should go. I’ve got potions homework I need to do.” You stand up abruptly, rushing out of the building like it was on fire. If you stayed a second later, you would have heard Sirius pleading for you to wait.

—

“You should talk to him,” Remus states. You’re sitting in the library together, doing homework for various classes.

“What?” You feign confusion even though you know what he’s talking about.

He sends you a knowing look, “He didn't mean it. He feels horrible.”

You groan, “He insulted me while also confessing he liked me. How do I respond to that?”

“You’re the one who’s read all those muggle books. What was it? Pride and Prejudice. Just do what Elizabeth did.”

“Brutally turn him down?”

He cringes, “Maybe not. Sirius has always had a hard time talking about his feelings. You just need to hear him out.”

“He hasn't even apologised!”

“Because you’re avoiding him!”

You sigh stubbornly. “Fine. I’ll find him later.”

It was now later, and you regret your promise that you’d find Sirius. You know where he is, you can hear him where you sit a few feet away. He’s sitting near the Whomping Willow, bored eyes watching the birds fly by.

“Hi.” You mutter, sitting next to him. His eyes snap up to meet yours, sad eyes meeting your bright ones.

“I am so sorry. What I said that day was stupid. I only want you out of my head because it hurts whenever I remember that you’re not mine. I’m not used to having friends or being in a relationship, but I want to be in a relationship with you. Please. I promise to work through my problems and treat you right, treat you how you deserve.”

“You hurt me.” You mutter, staring into the distance to avoid the pain in his eyes. He sits up straighter, “I know, and I’m so sorry.”

Letting out a quiet sigh, you turn to face him. “You get one chance, Sirius.”

He sighs in relief, “Thank you, you won't regret it, I promise-” Cutting him off, you place a quick kiss on his lips, relishing in the warmth. “You play your cards right and you’ll get more of those.” He laughs, rubbing his nose in the crook of your neck. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

You smile, kissing his head lightly.

You watch the sunset together before heading back to his room so he can show you how much of a good boy he can be.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius orion black #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst to fluff #sirius black angst #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fics #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines

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thesillymask · 29 days ago

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Hiii!

I recently found your blog and you're literally the first person I found who writes for Abel, I actually love you for that!

Anyways, may I please request an Abel x gender neutral or fem reader who is a singer? (it can be just headcanons) The rest is up to you!

Thank youuu! <3

aaaaw thank you! I'm happy to be the first to write about Abel. I looked in several places and didn't find anything about Abel x reader/Y/N, so I decided to do it myself ✨

I made headcanons because I love making headcanons!

Abel x NB!Singer!Reader Headcanons

warnings: My versions of Eve and Abel's siblings

Aaaw the music, one of the most beautiful and incredible creations ever... Abel was one of the first children to discover music, along with his brother (cough cough- Cain- cough cough). He listened to the sweet songs his mother sang, so soft and comforting...

Adam had already made a stringed instrument with wood, branches, string and other things, and Abel watched his father play from afar. He liked the sound his father's invention made, it was so different... And little Abel found himself very fascinated by it.

Abel remembers like it was yesterday when he created his own stringed instrument, Cain helped him make it and he was so happy and excited. Of course, when he played it for the first time, it didn't go great... But he was a determined boy, and he trained until he perfected his talent with the instrument.

Now back to the present, how did Abel meet you? Well, he met you at a show you were performing in heaven, so cliché~ Norea was bugging him to go out to see a show that was going to be on that night, and he simply gave in.

So there he was, in a crowd of winners and other angels waiting for the show to start. He was nervous because he was so out of place at that moment... And that's when the show started, the screams of enthusiasm from the crowd were almost deafening, and the screams that Norea was giving next to him were no better. He was about to say he didn't want to be there anymore and leave, until You appeared on stage and the music started.

He was surprised to see you singing, your voice was... Divine... Simply divine... The way you sang the song with so much passion while the sounds and instruments played along. he found himself so enchanted by the scene before him, his eyes practically glowed and this did not go unnoticed by Norea

At the end of the show Norea was practically dragging him backstage to come and talk to you. Abel was extremely nervous and panicked, trying to make his sister stop and for them to just go home, but she is persistent. It was then that you heard from one of the security guards that two of the first man's sons wanted to speak to you, which was quite shocking to say the least.

Abel was blushing and nervous while Norea was praising you and talking about how amazing the show was, then she mentioned that Abel was very amazed by the show and started to talk about Abel having a big passion for music too and started talking about how you two would get along. Abel was so nervous and embarrassed about this, what was Norea's problem!?

Amazingly enough, you two actually became friends, and then it evolved into a relationship. he should thank Norea for that

The love that both had for music was something that made you both connect so quickly and intensely. Sometimes Abel would just sit next to you in some quiet place and start playing his guitar while you started singing softly. Abel started listening to your songs, he loved hearing you voices.

Before, was it Norea who dragged him to see yours show? Well, now he was the one who dragged others to see his beautiful beloved sing! He wanted to show his friends and siblings how talented and amazing his beloved was.

He would definitely be your number one fan, screaming louder than everyone else and competing with the others in the audience to be at the front of the stage so he could see you.

He would always go backstage at the end of your shows to praise you and shower you with hugs and kisses. He is so sweet to his beloved singer.

If you let him, he will hang out in your dressing room while you get ready for a show, he will help you if he can and tell you how beautiful you look.

"This is my favorite singer! Now go on that stage and show everyone how amazing you are, angelcakes!"

Oh if you create a song dedicated to him... Oh man, He'll turn into a euphoric and emotional puppy, He will cling to you and tell you how much he loves you and then point out to everyone that the song was dedicated to him.

Yay! Finally some Headcanons! I love writing my Headcanons!

And thank you very much for the 100 likes and 10 followers! I didn't expect to get so many followers and likes with only 4 posts, thank you very much! I'm happy to know that you like my posts! 💖

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel abel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel abel x reader #hazbin hotel abel x y/n #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel abel headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #x reader #x y/n #x you

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fvllingflower · 2 years ago

Text

Tell Me

pairing: college!wonwoo, f!reader

genre: smut

warning: party, cursing, fingering (f!rec.), protected sex, hickeys, hair pulling, & aftercare.

song recommendation: tell me by fifty fifty

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You didn't even know why you were here or how your friends dragged to this party, but here you were. As you and Yoohyeon were walking to find Siyeon and Bora, you felt like every guy there staring at you. You two found the other two girls.

"Ooh who is this hottie," Siyeon smirked as she looked me up and down.

"I know right, she looks so hot," Yoohyeon smiled. Yoohyeon was the one to dress you in this short black dress, that was revealing of your cleavage and wearing black heels.

"The guys keep staring at me," You mumbled.

"Yeah cause you're fine as hell," Bora hyped you up. The girls knew you weren't comfortable with parties but they wanted you to get out your comfort zone for once.

"I heard that guy you find hot from our literature class is here," Yoohyeon informed you.

"Really?" You asked surprised.

"Apparently he's friends with the party host and he was also dragged here," Siyeon smiled.

"You should go find him and flirt with him," Bora hit your arm.

"You know that's not a good idea," You looked at here sternly. She nodded.

"Oh look there he is," Siyeon pointed out. He was walking behind you, you guess to his friend. You turned your head and saw. Shit he was wearing black button up with two buttons undone and black pants.

"Mingyu there's apparently like a new girl here, and she's hot," Vernon hit his arm. Wonwoo walked over to them.

"Can I go home now?" Wonwoo asked.

"No, you need to loosen up, you're always in that damn room reading, you need to have fun," Mingyu wrapped his arm onto his shoulder.

"Reading is fun," Wonwoo looked at him.

"Just at least get laid or something," Mingyu groaned.

"He could try the new girl," Vernon suggested.

"New girl?" Wonwoo asked.

"Yeah, I'll go find her for you," Vernon smiled. Vernon walked off to find you.

"Fine if you won't stop bugging me about it, I'll go try and talk to him," You sighed. The girls were cheering you on as you walked off. You were walking past Vernon when he suddenly stopped.

"Vernon what the hell?" You looked at surprised.

"You know my name?" He asked.

"Yes! We're literally music partners," You answered. Is he losing his memory?

"Y/N?!" He shouted surprised.

"Yeah," You nodded, confused by his actions.

"You're the new hot girl!" He covered his mouth.

"Do I really look that different dressed up?" You asked.

"The more I look at you, no you don't," He replied. Wonwoo and Mingyu walked over to you.

"Vernon is that the new girl?" Mingyu asked as he checked you out.

"Well yeah but no... it's Y/N she's just dressed up," Vernon answered truthfully.

"You guys are stupid," You sighed and Wonwoo laughed at your comment.

"They really are," Wonwoo smiled. The guys noticed you two were connecting and decided to walk off.

"Do you wanna go some more quiet?" Wonwoo asked and you nodded. He took your hand and lead you up the stairs to his room.

"It's quieter up here," He smiled as he locked the door so no horn dog would interrupt you two talking.

"I feel like I've seen you before on campus," Wonwoo smiled as he sat on the bed next to you.

"We're in the same literature class, so maybe that's where," You answered.

"Mhm maybe so," He smiled at you. He looked down and noticed you were in heels.

"You're in heels, your feet must be dying," He pointed out.

"Yeah especially since I've been standing," You nodded. He got on his knees on the floor and helped take your shoes off.

"Oh— thank you," You were trying not to blush.

"Of course," He also took his shoes off and then sat down next to you again. You two just started talking about anything and everything. You felt a source of comfort in him.

"During class one day, you should sit next to me," He smiled.

"Why would you want me to sit next to you?" You asked.

"Cause we seem to have great chemistry and you're really pretty," He spoke truthfully which stunned you.

"Jeon Wonwoo finds me pretty?" You smiled widely. He nodded.

"So pretty," He leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft, you weren't expecting him to be such a great kisser but I guess you learn something new everyday. You were quick to climb into his lap as you two sinken the kiss. He finally pulled away and just looked at you.

"If you aren't comfortable with anything I do, tell me," He whispered and you nodded.

"Shit Jeon kiss me!" You pulled him back into a heated kiss. His hands held your waist. His kisses started to travel down your jawline to your neck to your collarbone and to your cleavage. His hand traveled your thigh and he was just massaging the flesh. You pushed him back against the bed and you got up and stripped your dress off, leaving you in your bra and underwear. You climbed back onto him and started unbuttoning his shirt. Who knew your little nerd crush was so fit. You started kissing down his chest and you decided to start nipping on his skin. You left a hickey in the crook of his neck and you continued your process.

"Do I belong to you?" He teased. He sat up and you two started making out again. His hand went down and pulled your panties aside for his fingers. He pushed his two of his fingers into your hole making you moan into his mouth.

"You like that?" He whispered and all you did was whimper as he started to fuck you with two fingers. He started thrusting his fingers fast. Your hand was quick to find his hair and grip it. Your other hand was clawing into his back. He suddenly added a third finger, stretching you out some more for him. You tossed your head back at the pleasure he was giving you. It didn't take long for you to snap. He pulled his fingers out and scooped up some of your orgasm and licked it off his fingers, looking straight into your eyes as he did so. He pulled you back into a deep kiss and laid you back onto his bed. He got up and started to strip.

"Baby can you do something for me?" He asked sweetly. You hummed in response.

"Can you strip completely naked for me," He smiled as he pulled his pants off. You sat up and unhooked your bra and threw it off the bed and then you lifted your hips to pull your underwear off. He pulled his underwear off to reveal his dick. Sure you've had fantasies of him but you always imagined for him to be average but you were wrong. He was big and thick and veiny in the right ways. He went to his nightstand and pulled out a sliver square. He ripped it open and slid it on himself.

"God you look so beautiful," He climbed on top of you and kissed you passionately. He started rubbing his dick between your folds which caused you to whine.

"You like that baby?" He smirked.

"God Jeon just fuck me," You whined.

"What's the magic word?" He asked.

"Please Wonwoo fuck me," You cried. He lined himself up and slowly pushed his cock inside of you. The stretch was delicious, it had you moaning so slowly. He made sure to be balls deep before letting you adjust. As you adjusted, he was peppering your collarbone with kisses. You tapped his shoulder and he started thrusting. He started slowly and quickly started to speed up. You wrapped your legs around his waist to feel all of him. You swore you could feel him in your stomach. He was hitting all the right places that made you a moaning mess.

"Fuck Wonwoo," You almost screamed. You were so glad the music was loud so that no one could hear how loud you were being. Your hands were in his hair and his hands were on either side of your head. You started to clench around him to let him know you're close.

"You gonna cum for me?" He whispered against your neck. All you did was whine. He took that as a yes and he thrusted even rougher. One of his hands as he thrusted, played with your boob. He was pinching your nipple and squeezing the mound that fit perfectly in his hand. Your legs started to tremble and with that you reached your climax. He continued thrusting until he came, filling up the rubber. He pulled out and laid beside you. You two were just panting. Once he calmed down, he got up and threw the condom away. He walked into his bathroom and came back with a wash cloth.

"Baby I'm going to clean you up," He warned you before putting the cloth against your folds. He wiped up any extra cum that escaped you. Once he was done he threw the cloth into his laundry basket.

"I should probably get home," You sat up. He looked at you with pouted lips.

"I think it's best you stay here tonight," He protested.

"It's late, you're tired, I'm tired, and I don't want some creep to hurt you," He stated. You just smiled softly.

"Fine, I'll sleep here, but can get some clothes at least," He widened his eyes in panic and he handed you his button up.

"Do you wanna sleep in this?" He asked nervously.

"Sure it looks soft," You pecked his cheek and took the shirt from him. You buttoned the shirt up and put you panties back on.

"You look so cute in my shirt," He smiled and hugged your waist.

"I'm glad you think so," You giggled. He placed a kiss on your cheek and then went to put on a shirt and shorts. He climbed into bed with you and cuddled you. You rested your head on his chest and one leg on top of him which made him smile.

The next morning you woke up due the sun hitting your eyes. You looked over and saw Wonwoo still asleep. As he slept peacefully you played with his hand. You saw him smile suddenly, knowing you woke him up. He locked his hand with yours and opened his eyes.

"You like my hands or something?" He teased.

"Sorry, I didn't know what else to do," You smiled. He grabbed you by your chin and pulled you in for a kiss.

"It's okay baby," He smiled. He sat up and sniffed for something.

"Come on, I think Mingyu is making breakfast," He grabbed your hands to pull you out of bed.

"I'll be there in a minute I need to use the bathroom real quick," You let go of his hands and walked to his bathroom.

Wonwoo got downstairs and saw Mingyu cooking breakfast as he suspected. Seungcheol and Vernon were also there waiting for breakfast.

"Hey Woo how was you night?" Vernon asked.

"It was good actually, real good," Wonwoo smiled to himself.

"You two seemed to be hitting it off but after a while you two disappeared," Mingyu pointed out.

"We went up to my room to talk, it was hard to hear over the music," Wonwoo admitted.

"Nothing else happened?" Cheol smirked. Suddenly you walked downstairs and walked into the kitchen.

"Oh hi guys," You smiled awkwardly.

"So something did happened last night," Vernon smiled.

"Oh Y/N I didn't know you were here still... I didn't make enough breakfast for you, my bad," Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck.

"It's fine, I'll just eat something when I go home," You smiled kindly.

"We can share my food, I don't care," Wonwoo offered and you just waved him off.

"It's fine, I'll be upstairs if you need me," You pecked his cheek and went back upstairs. You went to your purse and pulled your phone out. Shit ten messages from Yoohyeon..

>Y/N where are you?

>Are you okay?

>I'm worried, answer me as soon as possible!

>Are you with Wonwoo?

>You have to tell me about it!

>Y/N!!!!!

>Bitch answer me!

>Wonwoo better not be a murderer or something.

>ANSWER ME!

>We're leaving the party, please text me as soon as possible so ik you're okay! I love you<3

You decided to message her back. Now is better than later. You felt bad for making her worry.

<Yoo I'm okay! I was with Wonwoo last night, talking about shit and then we ended up fucking so.... I have sm to tell you in person! Anyways sorry for making you worry but I'm okay, he's not a killer! I love you too<3

You crawled back into his bed and was watching videos on your phone. You suddenly heard a knock on the door and it was Wonwoo. You were slightly confused why he would knock to enter his own room but whatever. He opened the door and in his hands was food.

"I made you some food, it might not be the best since I'm not the greatest at cooking but I tried," He handed you the plate. You took a bite out of it and your eyes widened.

"Wonwoo this is good, what the fuck?" You praised him and he smiled.

"I'm glad you like them, the guys are teasing me over this but it's worth it if you're happy," He got in the bed next to you. You fed him a piece of the food and he nodded.

"Damn I did do a good job," He sounded surprised. You finished eating and you were about to get up to clean the dish but Wonwok stopped you.

"Here let me do it," He grabbed the plate. He went downstairs to clean the plate. Damn is really this down bad for you or are you tripping? He came back to you and kissed your cheek.

"I'm going to go shower and then I'm gonna go home, okay?" You stood up and he pouted.

"Fine, but can I ask you a question?" He asked and you nodded.

"Can I take you out on a date next Saturday?" He asked and you smiled widely.

"Yes, I would like that," You walked towards him and kissed his lips softly.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A/N; thank you for all the love that I've been receiving for my stories lately! I'll try to upload more in the future. I hope you enjoyed this one, and I'm deciding of I want to do a part two for this or not <3

#jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo fic #wonwoo smut #wonwoo thots #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader

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vilevenom · 10 months ago

Text

Hello, Anon! Thank you for your prompt!

I've seen a couple of fics where Branch has that conversation with his brothers, and it tends to get explosive. I tried to take a bit more of a calmer approach to it to help with the fluff. I also won't lie, John almost stole the spotlight from Branch, but I managed to wrangle it back, lol

Enjoy!

Things had been going so well. Branch's brothers were all sat in his bunker, clustered around his tiny kitchen table, the surface laden with half empty plates of snacks and various cups and glasses from drinks they had been going through as the evening had progressed. But then, there was a lull in conversation.

"Hey, uh…not to be that troll, guys-" Clay began, interrupted by a quiet snort from John Dory.

"Then don't."

Clay shot John a glare, but continued, a look of concern settling on his face as he looked to Branch. "Look, I don't wanna be the troll to bring the mood down, but I gotta know. It's been bugging me since you said it, Bitty B." He ignored Branch's grumpy "It's Branch", pressing on as he fiddled with his mug of tea. "Did Grandma really get eaten?"

A hush quickly settled over the brothers. Branch looked taken aback by the question, while John scowled at Clay. Bruce looked a bit squeamish as he stared at his own glass of water, while Floyd gasped and sat back in his chair.

"What happened to grandma?!" Floyd asked, turning urgently to Branch.

Branch looked distinctly uncomfortable, swallowing thickly to try and rid himself of the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. "Oh, right. That," he mumbled, pulling his hands from where they'd sat on the table top to fiddle in his lap. He took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to explain to his brothers what the last two decades of his life had entailed. "Okay. Quite the change of topic," he let out a nervous laugh. His brothers deserved to know what had happened to their grandmother. "I guess I'll just start at the beginning. Uhm…a year or two after you all left, the chef started grabbing one or two trolls at random, rather than just on Trollstice. We never knew when, or even why. I think, in retrospect, the previous Bergen king probably just got greedy and wanted to feel happy outside of Trollstice." He cleared his throat, glancing up at his brothers, who were now all staring at him intently. He flushed, ducking his head back down to stare at the crumbs on the plate in front of him. "So, one day, grandma and I were outside. She was hanging laundry, while I practiced singing." He clenched his fists in his lap, feeling tears well up in his eyes. "I got so wrapped up in my song, I didn't hear her yell. I didn't notice until she was running at me. I looked up, and there was chef. Reaching for me." He paused to take a shuddering breath, letting tears slowly track down his cheeks. "Grandma pushed me out of the way. She got taken, instead."

"Oh, Branch," Floyd murmured softly next to him, his brothers hand landing gently on his shoulder. He shrugged it off out of habit, curling a bit in on himself in his chair.

"If I'd been paying attention, she wouldn't have been grabbed," Branch muttered, his colors dulling slightly as he spoke.

"That's not your fault, B," Bruce said, shaking his head as he put his hand on the table in front of Branch, "You were just a kid." He paused, noticing the way Branch's blue fur seemed to grow a shade duller. "Does the color of your fur have something to do with…all that?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Branch sighed, rubbing his hands roughly over his face, angrily wiping tears away. His brothers should be furious at him for getting their grandma killed, but they were treating him so gently. He was both angry on their behalf, but also relieved that they hadn't walked out on him once again. "Yeah. I turned grey after that."

A collective, quiet gasp went around the table.

"Grey? For how long?" John Dory asked, sitting forward in his seat, "It had to have been a long time, if you're still dark."

Branch glanced up, a sardonic little smile on his face. "I guess twenty years is a long time."

"No way. Twenty?! Branch…" Clay shook his head as he trailed off, disbelief on his face.

"I had to take care of myself, after that. Other trolls thought there was something wrong with me, because I didn't sing or dance anymore. I was never happy. King Peppy was good about telling trolls to leave me alone, but that was a bit of the problem. They all just…left me alone," Branch explained, feeling Floyd's hand on his shoulder again. This time he let it stay. "When we escaped the troll tree, I almost got caught in the tunnels. I was small, and because of my colors I almost blended into the dark. No one really noticed me. Somehow, though, I made it out. I travelled with the other trolls until we found where we would build pop village. I was about five or six when I started digging the bunker."

"Six?! Oh, Branch," Bruce said, tears in his eyes. Branch glanced at him, and he could tell his brother was thinking about his own children, and what might become of any of them if they were left on their own at that age.

"You're made of tough stuff, kid," John piped up from across the table, lifting his chin defiantly as his other brothers shot him glares. "You made it. You persevered, and survived. I'm proud of you."

Branch blinked, shocked by the sudden show of support from his oldest brother. It made something angry and bitter flare in his chest, though. He clutched a hand to his chest, letting out a breath. He sniffed back the tears that had formed in his eyes again, glowering slightly as he looked around the table at his brothers. "It would've been easier if any of you had come back."

At that his brothers all immediately looked guilty. Floyd especially as his parting words rang in his head. He wrapped his arms around himself in a self-soothing gesture, staring at the table as Branch spoke.

"I'm angry, and I'm sad. I feel so bitter about all those years, where it seemed like none of you even /thought/ of me," Branch said, turning his gaze upon each of his brothers until each one, in turn, looked away in shame. He waited a moment for his words to settle, before speaking again. "But…I'm also so happy to have you all back in my life. Even if it's twenty years too late. I missed you guys. Every day."

"Branch," Floyd gasped next to him, his voice waving as tears ran down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry. We're all sorry," he added, glancing at the others, who all nodded in agreement. "I don't have any excuses. I should have come back," he said, reaching out to take Branch's hand. "I made you a promise, and I broke it. And I don't really think there's anything I can do to make it up to you."

Branch gave Floyd's hand a little squeeze, offering a watery smile. "You can. You can stay. You can spend time with me, and we can get to know each other again."

"I would love that, Branch."

"I just want to state, for the record," John Dory piped up from across the table, "I did come back."

Clay rolled his eyes, while Bruce scoffed, but John sat firm, a look of determination on his face as he stared Branch down. "I did come back, and I thought you were dead."

"You thought he was dead? Come on, John, that's a bit much," Clay snorted, shoving lightly at his brothers shoulder. But John just shook his head, scowling.

"I thought you were all dead," John stated bluntly. "I came back after the trolls escaped. The tree was dead, and most of the pods were wrecked. I had no idea you all left Grandma's pod after I did. What else was I supposed to think?"

"You just assumed we all died? Not that we'd escaped?" Bruce asked, arching an eyebrow at John.

"We left when the escape plan was still in talks. A small handful of trolls getting away wasn't unheard of, but the whole tree? I mean, I had a little hope, but what was the likelihood? What would /you/ have thought, finding grandma's pod covered in half dead vines and not a troll in sight?" John half snarled, shooting Bruce a scowl. "But, oh, that's right. You were off on a tropical island, drinking mai tais under the sun and learning how to surf."

"Hey, now," Floyd interrupted as Bruce puffed up indignantly, obviously about to get into a fight with John, "Let's just take a moment to breath. This is all a lot, and emotions are getting high."

Bruce let out the breath he'd taken, visibly deflating, while John huffed and crossed his arms, scowling at the table top.

"What happened after you came back to the tree?" Branch asked quietly, John's head snapping up at the quiet question.

"I looked for you," John admitted with a shrug, letting his shoulders slump and his arms uncross. "I looked for quite a while. I lost track of time, but it had to be for at least a year. The forest is huge, and the village was well hidden. After a while, I thought I must be the last pop troll alive and decided to go see the rest of the world."

"And you…did you go grey?" Branch asked, watching his oldest brother curiously as he reached up to fiddle with his goggles.

"For a little bit," John admitted, "While I was looking for you. Not anything as drastic as twenty years. And I got my colors back. The world is big, and beautiful. It's hard to stay hopeless when you see some of the stuff out there."

Branch smiled tiredly at John, nodding a little. "Yeah. It is. Poppy helped me see that."

"Is she the reason you managed to get your colors back?" Clay asked, leaning his elbows on the table.

"She did, yeah. A little over a year ago, Chef found the village. She kidnapped a bunch of Poppy's friends, and we went to Bergen town to rescue them. We brokered peace with the Bergens, and I got my colors back all in one fell swoop," Branch said with a light little laugh.

"And then you saved the world from the rockapocalypse with her," Bruce teased, grinning.

"That was mostly Poppy, but yeah," Branch returned the grin, startling as John suddenly stood up. He watched as his oldest brother rounded the table, staring wide eyed even as John suddenly engulfed him in a hug.

"I heard you on the radio," John muttered into Branch's hair, "It's how I found out you were alive."

"JD," Branch murmured, reaching up to half return the hug, ignoring the light smattering of tears that were hitting his shoulder.

"You are the coolest, Bitty B!" John suddenly crowed, pulling back from the hug with a broad grin on his face, shaking Branch a little, "Saving the village, then the whole world! Dating the Queen of pop!"

"Bringing us all back together," Floyd added, offering a watery smile as Branch looked to him.

"You grew up into an amazing troll, Bitty B," Clay added, grinning at his youngest brother.

"We're all really proud of you, Branch," Bruce finally added, nodding a little as Branch began to tear up once more.

Branch squawked as John engulfed him in a hug again, laughing as the rest of his brothers rose from their own chairs to join in. "Thanks, guys."

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls branch #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls bruce #brozone #prompt fill #trolls fanfic #things that i wrote

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swampstew · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request Buggy with Fluff N3 for the event? Thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hello anon❤️ Thank you for your submission and patience! I hope you get a chance to read this :) You requested fluff, subtle intimacy, and I give you: [ Simple Touches ] Bandaging/stitching up an injury

Oh Captain, My Captain Buggy

Warnings: None. Fluff and cute stuffs. Ended up sorta sweet n' romantic in a way I wasn't anticipating but Buggy deserves it tbh, cutie but wet n' pathetic King of the Pirates❤️ Word count: 1.1K

“OOOOOWWWWW!”

You push through the pained howls of your Captain as you stitch up his latest injuries. For a man who had eaten the chop-chop fruit, he sure got brutally chopped up by other people more than he should reasonably be.

To be fair, his latest network of contacts involved some intense and no-nonsense individuals. Two in particular who seem to have a rather tight hold on his gorgeous blue head as he did their bidding and processed their contracts.

“DAMNIT Y/N that HURTS!” Buggy hollers at you, tears spilling down his face in pure agony. It makes your heart break. Still you push on.

“It will hurt more if it festers and worsens. Then we’d have to seriously chop pieces off you,” you chide him gently, done with pushing the needle through the tail end of the long gash on his chest. “This is going to sting a bit but I’ll count down from 3. 3—” you tightened the sutures securely before he could hold his breath.

“YYYYEEEEOOOOOWWWW!!!!” his head flew from his neck, as did his hands and feet from his body. “GRR!! YOU ENJOYED THAT TOO MUCH!” he spit at you.

You give him an unimpressed look, “You know that that’s not true. Now get back here. You have some wounds on your face and right hand that need to be disinfected and bandaged. If you can make it through without any complaints, I’ll give you a treat. Sound good?”

His head reattaches to his head but his hand floats down to grip his chin, “A treat? What kind of treat?”

“A nice one. We got a deal?”

With a nod, Buggy reassembles himself and sits still as you inspect each cut and bruise. Washing away the dirt and dried blood, applying a salve on the wounds, and wrapping each one in a bandage or long, woven cotton wrap to soak up any leaking from the cuts. A hushed song brews in your throat and without realizing it, you start to emit the tune from your lips as you patch him up.

Buggy watches you closely as you lightly hum to yourself while you work. Normally, he would literally talk his ass off about anything and everything – but watching you treat him so tenderly has his mouth dry and his mind quiet. Trying to understand the feelings in his chest that you cause him to have with your firm but kind personality. Not understanding why you treat him with such dignity and warmth despite his antics; you’re one of the few people who sees through his bullshit but you also accept it, encourage it even. In his brain playing back all his interactions with you over the last year that you’ve been on his crew to better understand what your deal is.

His eyes bug out of his head for a moment, a memory unearthing itself. With Alvida.

“I think the new doc likes you, Bugs,” she tilted her cowboy covered head at Buggy. When he gave her a confused look, she scoffed and used her head to gesture at you sitting at the bar with his most trusted men. “You’re telling me that you’ve NEVER noticed how much time they manage to spend with you, or how they always talk you up? That they know almost everything about you that not even your own crew knows about?” Buggy scoffed, “Most of my crew are idiots, why would I tell those morons anything?” Alvida gave him a bewildered look, “Then why do you share anything with the doc?” “I don’t share EVERYTHING!” “Oh no? So you haven’t spilled to them how Emperor Shanks is the only man you can respect as the next King of the Pirates?” His hands flew to her face and smothered her speech, “QUIET YOU DAMN WOMAN!”

Buggy felt like an idiot.

That was maybe three months ago.

“All done. You should heal up in no time but if you feel worse, you know where to find me.”

Buggy brought his hand to the back of his neck, “Yeah. Sure.” He wasn’t sure how to pivot from being a crybaby patient to a flashy guy with rizz when he suddenly felt…overly aware of how he acts around you. To be perceived by you and now knowing that you were perceiving him.

“Wh-where’s my treat?”

“Oh that’s right I do owe you a nice one. Wait right here.”

His mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to plan, trying to scheme a charming personality in 2-seconds flat as he watches you go to your desk and pull out a dark bottle. Buggy didn’t notice how attractive your face is as he did just now. He always thought you were the most attractive in the crew in general, but now he was seeing your face. And he found that…he actually quite liked it.

Your step falters are you become aware of his intense stare. You feel…insecure suddenly. Is there something gross on your face or scrubs? Does he not like liquor suddenly? Oh no, is your hair messy?? With a trembling hand you tuck some loose hair behind your ear and lightly touch your scrub as you present the bottle.

“An aged rum that I nicked from our last raid. I hear it’s a grossly expensive brand.”

Buggy took the bottle and rolls it in his hands quietly, not saying anything at all. You watch him nervously, anxiety eating at your gut, a hot flush spreading behind your ears and the back of your neck. You know for a fact that Buggy likes expensive things, no matter what it is. Even if he hates what it actually is, like that time he tried bull fighting fish caviar. He was laid up in your office for a week after that one. He still keeps a preserved jar around, just so he can say he has it on hand.

“I hear it goes well with steak, or something,” you mumble, confidence draining away slowly.

He perks up to that, “Steak? Oh yeah, yes that does sound like a good pairing.” He stands up from the cot and shifts on his feet.

Buggy the Star Clown is shooting his shot.

“If I make Cabaji cook up a few steaks, would you…be interested in joining me for dinner? A flashily impromptu date?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, that being the last thing you expect to hear from him. You had been certain that you would have to ask him out yourself with all the hints and nudges you gave him in the past seemed to go, well, right over his head.

“Oh! Y-yes that sounds nice!”

Smiling, Buggy turns to exit. Passing through the threshold he turns back to add, “I’ll pick you up at your cabin later. Escort you to the dining hall and all that jazz.” He ducks out of the room.

You’re glad he isn’t there anymore because your knees weaken and you grab the cot in support. Thrilled, you look at your schedule and decide to close up early. The injured would have to stay injured on their time, you had an important date tonight.

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #oh captain my captain mini event #eustasscaptainkid #swampstew bedtime stories #swampstew #swampstew stories #anon asks #buggy the star clown #captain buggy

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heartvshand · 11 days ago

Text

Seeking Rio

Written for AAA Week Day 5. I did the vampires AU for it (didn't realize it switched to a free day until I'd already written this). Hope you enjoy and thank you for reading.

Summary: Agatha needs to find immortality, and she seeks out a vampire who fate says can help her.

Seeking Rio

I gripped the shoulder straps of my bag and kept an eye on the bus stops. Two more until my stop. Lilia’s reading played over and over in my head.

“Well, what does it mean?” I said, crossing my arms. “Just tell me in plain terms.”

She looked at me solemnly. Her eyes full of pity. “It means you’re going to die unless you find this vampire.”

“Well, where do I find this bloodsucker?” I rolled my eyes. “I thought they’d died out a long time ago.”

Lilia shook her head and began to speak, but her eyes glazed over. The lights flickered and she scribbled on a notepad.

When the lights stopped flickering and her gaze returned to mine, she handed me the piece of paper. It had a name and address.

The bus finally arrived at the stop I needed. The sky was a burst of oranges, reds, and yellows as the sun sank lower into the mountains.

I stared at the mountains up ahead and swallowed. “Rio Vidal, you better have all the answers.”

By the time I’d made it up the long, winding dirt path to the mansion on the mountainside, my shadow stood beside me in the moonlight while I rang the bell.

Waiting for someone to answer the door, I took even, deep breaths, begging my heart to stop pounding. I knew there was a good chance this vampire would try to kill me on sight.

Despite being a witch, I was still a human with blood in my veins. I might become a midnight snack.

The door slowly opened to reveal a woman around my height with pale skin, dark hair, and dark eyes.

She stared at me, curiosity narrowing her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Hello, my name is Agatha Harkness. I’m a centuries old witch, and I’m in need of assistance from one, Rio Vidal.” I licked my lips and tried not to stare at her.

The woman frowned. “Agatha Harkness.”

I nodded, unsure if she recognized my name in a good or bad way.

She laughed. “I’m Rio Vidal, centuries old vampire, and I do not know how on Earth I could assist one, Agatha Harkness.”

“So, you have heard of me?” I grimaced, bracing myself for the bad reaction.

She sighed. “Yes, I’ve heard of you. You are quite notorious.”

Swallowing, I waited for her to say more.

She didn’t.

We stared at each other for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze. I swallowed again.

“What can I help you with?” she said.

“I-I need to become immortal.”

Her eyes roved my body; her head tilted to the side. “Are you not?”

I sighed and shook my head. “No. I-I’m not.”

“Not a lot of witches live centuries.” She ran her tongue over her teeth.

“Dark magic can do wonders for your lifespan.” I smiled tightly.

“Hm.” She nodded and continued to stare.

I tried to focus on the noise of crickets chirping and the night songs of the other bugs, but the blood thundering against my eardrums almost drowned them out entirely.

“You’re awfully nervous.” Rio smirked.

I laughed. “Well, this is my first time showing up a vampire’s home asking for help. No idea how it’s going to go, you know?”

Rio let out a deep exhale. “Could go many ways.”

My tight smile stayed in place; I stayed quiet.

She pointed at my bag. “Empty the contents of your bag. Let me see what you’ve brought.”

I frowned but nodded. “Oh, um, sure.”

I pulled the bag from my back and slowly unpacked my bag, lying out all my belongings and showing her the empty pockets once the whole bag was set out on the porch.

“And your coat or pants pockets, or anything else you might have on your body.” She motioned to me.

“Oh, um, right.” I turned out my empty pockets, took off my jacket and shook it out. “You can pat me down if you want.”

I blushed immediately and dropped my gaze to the ground.

She made a small noise. “I believe I will, Agatha Harkness.”

Once she was certain I didn’t have any vampire-killing items with me, she invited me to join her inside. Following her through the massive house, I made a mental map of how to return to the front door.

We stopped in the doorway of a living room where she gestured to a couch. “Have a seat.”

Sitting on her couch, I looked around at the decorations. Lots of flowers.

She sat on the love seat across from the couch and stared at me once again. I swallowed audibly in the quiet room.

She smirked. “Agatha, if we’re going to work together, you must stop being so nervous.”

I nodded and looked away. “Right. Trying.”

“I won’t bite,” she said. “Unless that’s what you want.”

I licked my lips and looked up. “Um, actually, it-it is.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is it now?”

I took a deep breath and ran my hands over my knees. “Y-yes. I, um, I had a run in with a witch who, um, read my fortune. And she said I was going to die unless you saved me.”

She scoffed. “You sought me out to save you?”

I swallowed, feeling slightly dumber for the plan than I had a few moments before. “Um, yes.”

“I’ve heard of you, Agatha Harkness.” She held my gaze. “You’re the witch who kills witches. Who’s to say you wouldn’t become the vampire who kills vampires?”

I frowned, shaking my head. “No, I-I’m, I-I wouldn’t.”

She squinted. “Interesting. Your heartbeat suggest you aren’t lying.”

My heart raced. “W-What?”

“I can hear your heartbeat.” Rio’s tongue roved across her teeth again. “Why did you kill all those witches?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but my standard answer wouldn’t come out. Instead, I said, “I-I don’t know. I-I like power. I think that’s probably why. Sometimes, I think I need it. But I…I’m not sure. Maybe I like killing. I don’t know.”

I clamped my hand over my mouth and stared at her.

She smirked.

“What did you do to me? How did you do that?” I said, quietly.

“Vampires have powers, too,” she said just as quietly.

“Right. I see. Well. Please don’t…do that again.” I hugged myself, rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

“I’ll refrain as long as you stay truthful. I wanted to let you know I can make you tell the truth if necessary. I hope you understand.” She watched me, amusement flickered across her features.

“Got it.” I held her eyes for just a moment before looking away. “Will you help me or not?”

“Why don’t you want to die?” she said.

My body tensed. “I wish you wouldn’t have asked me that.”

She didn’t retract the question, only waited in silence for me to answer.

“I had a son. He died young. And…I feel ashamed of everything I’ve done since his death. I don’t want to face him. Yet.” I twisted my fingers into the hem of my shirt to hide the shaking.

“Yet?” She studied me.

I shifted under her intense gaze. “Vampires can be killed, right? Someday, maybe, if or when I’m ready to face him…I’ll just…you know, find someone to vanquish me or whatever.”

She laughed. “Oh, Agatha. You’re funny.”

“What? Is that not an option?” My arms fell away from my body. I reached down to my bag by my feet and grabbed my water bottle.

I took a drink.

“I suppose it is,” she said. Her eyes wandering to the ceiling and back again made me wonder if she was considering this idea for the first time or something, but I didn’t ask.

She shifted in her seat, leaning forward. “Are you addicted to draining witches of their powers?”

I frowned. “I don’t know. I hadn’t considered it to be an addiction. I don’t know.”

“Being a vampire comes with an unquenchable thirst. But you can’t go on killing sprees the way you’ve been accustomed to. People would notice.” She watched me. “Do you understand?”

Her eyes were mesmerizing. I got lost in them and lost the question. I wanted to know what her lips would feel like against mine. I ran my fingers over my lips.

“Agatha?” She blinked.

I blinked in turn and looked at her again. “Hm?”

“I said, do you understand?”

“Understand?” I frowned. “Oh, right. Um, why can’t I kill people the way I’ve been killing witches? Nobody misses the witches.” I blinked several times before shaking my head and rubbing my eyes. “I-I’m sorry. You’re extremely beautiful, and I’m having a hard time focusing this close to you.”

“It’s the thrall.” She leaned back again. “Is this better?”

I closed my eyes for a few moments. When I opened them again, I looked at her and didn’t feel so lost in her beauty. Slowly, I nodded.

“The risk of killing the wrong person is much greater, because that thirst is…not picky. You might set out ready to kill a certain person, a nomad or whoever. However, you might pick up the scent of someone who smells more appealing, and once you’ve given in to the call, you might not be in total control of yourself anymore. You might work solely on instinct. And instinct says you want the blood that smells better.” She shrugged. “Instinct allows little room for being methodical.”

I stared at her, waiting for more explanation, but she stayed quiet.

We settled into a comfortable silence, listening to each other breathing. I didn’t want to come off as demanding or impatient, and sitting in the silence with her gave me an excuse to study her features and commit her face to memory. Thrall or not, she was beautiful.

Finally, she smiled. “You’re getting comfortable, I see. Your heart rate has finally started to slow a bit, but it keeps spiking a little. Are you less afraid of me?”

My eyes widened. “I-um, yeah. Thrall or not, you’re gorgeous, and I’m not sure if I’m more afraid or attracted to you or if it’s both.”

She laughed. “It’s likely both.”

My face heated up.

“I would like you to live here for a while, experience what being a vampire would mean, before I take any action to help you. Is your impending death immediate or do you have that time?” she said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t smell illness on you?”

I shrugged. “I-I don’t know. The reading wasn’t…exactly the clearest thing. I’ve never been much for divination. But she said I was going to die soon and that only you could help me. I don’t know anything else about it.”

“Interesting.” She tapped her fingers against the armrest. “How do you feel about my offer? Are you willing to see how I live before committing?”

I hesitated. “I-I guess it doesn’t…hurt. But. I don’t understand. Why does it matter if I kill the wrong person? What does it matter to you or any other vampire?”

She shook her head. “Oh, Agatha, you have so much to learn.”

She was quiet for a moment. Her eyes grew distant; I wondered if she was going to ignore my question, but before I could repeat myself, her eyes were focused on me again.

“Vampires have to be extremely careful not to be found out about. Witches might have gone into hiding, but you’re still socially acceptable in certain ways. Vampires, while popular in some circles, are not widely accepted.”

She paused, as if trying to find the right words before continuing.

Then, she said, “Most people think we never even existed and certainly do not exist in a present tense, and we want to keep it that way.”

I nodded. “Okay, that makes more sense. Yes, I’ll stay with you and learn about your culture before committing.”

“One more condition.” She held up a hand.

“Okay. What is it?” I bit my lip, unsure what she could possibly add to this deal.

“You cannot kill any witches while you stay here.”

I frowned. “How is that relevant?”

“I want to see if you’re addicted or if you can, in fact, not kill as I believe you can.” She dropped her hand, holding it out for a handshake. “Do you accept under these terms and conditions?”

I stared at her hand for a moment before slowly reaching out and shaking it. “I accept.” I smiled at her.

___

This is all I had time for today, but I might revisit this and add more chapters at some point.

#aaa week #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #rio vidal #rio x agatha #vampires au

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miguellover07 · 1 year ago

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Ughhh, may I request something,well umm do u remember those wattpad nerd story (that had to deal with nerds girl who no one really had an interest,then boom someone is interested in them and they just called them ugly ass,but the nerds always weared baggy clothes and big glasses) that was popular there, well I wanted to ask

Nerd!reader(female) x rich!popular!Miguel

Highschool/college au

Who is an new kid(miguel) come to school already become popular and all the talk of the town ,he was just incredibly annoyed by all these girl jumping onto to him like an bug going toward the sun,and the fucking guys that say there he best friends,he would just shut them up,and make fun of them,he was fed up with people telling him what happening with today's drama or shit,he just wanted to had fun,I mean just because he was rich doesn't he was lazy,that's when he wanted to find an place that quiet and clam he went to the library, that where he saw reader,(who he never saw her before,he just thought she was an new kid) nerd!reader who was wearing headphones underneath her hoodie (listening to music of course) while studying,she seem peaceful,but knowing him he would just sat down next in the same table as her,

AND THE REST IS UP TO u (Idk what to do)

Always have an wonderful day😘😘😇

Study buddy

Around 1100 words, fluff, rich!Miguel x nerdfem!reader

After finally getting rid of these annoying classmates of his, he found his way to the school library.

He was already so frustrated and grumpy by them. They don't understand that he simply doesn´t care who fucked with whom or who holds the best parties.

This year he wants to improve his grades to the impossible, so only A´s are allowed. This means no parties, no drama or any kind of burden for him.

The reason is that he wants to be worthy of his parents company.

He wants them to be proud of him and inherit it to him because he deserves it and not due to the fact that he is their eldest son.

That´s why right now he's standing in the math section and looks through the books and after a bit of searching he finds the books he needs for practacing.

Luckily the math section is mostly empty except for a group who are probably working on a project together and a girl.

Before searching for a seat, he decides to regard the girl for some minutes.

Her oversized hoodie has a big image on the back which tells him that she is a fan of the same comic as him.

He sees her removing the glasses and rubbing her already bloodshot eyes and she seems worried and frustrated.

So, he decides to sit next to her, taking out his school supplies such as notebook, calculator and some pencils.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to befriend her so that he can have a study buddy and they could help each other out.

As he sits down next to her, he notices the small spider-man earrings and he can't help but feel excited because he also likes him.

Even her earphones are designed in the colour red and blue which implies that they must be customised.

She rests her head in her hands and Miguel guesses that she is either at the brick of a breakdown or just taking a break.

"Need help?" he causally asks her as he takes her notes to see with what she is fighting.

The moment he starts speaking is exactly where her song switches to another one, so in this little second she hears him right next to her.

Startled, she jumps in her chair, putting a hand on her heart "Gosh, I didn´t see you coming..."

And Miguel can´t help but find her slow reaction adorable.

She slowly takes her headphones off and sighs while blushing intensly. The new kid talked to her? And even offers his help?

No way, this must be a prank, most people don´t even recognize her which she is extremly thankful for since she has seen how the popular kids bully the nerds or basically everbody who isn´t filthy rich or at least good looking.

But she needs help or else she will fail her math class and studying alone won't get her far.

"I don't even know what I´m doing..." she would whisper embarrassed.

Humming, he starts opening one of her books and takes a minute to read himself in this topic.

All the while she puts her glasses back on to get a better sight of him.

It´s like she is looking at a model, his skin looks so smooth and his hair is so fluffy and voluminous.

His sharp features makes him so much hotter but to stop her emberassing blushing, she tries looking at the books before her.

After understanding the topic, he leans back and starts explaining it to her, without making her feel stupid which only makes her more attracted to him.

He even put his arm behind her to lean a bit closer towards her and his other hand keeps pointing to the book while sometimes scribbling on her notes.

Nodding eagerly as she finally understood what her problem was and how it workes.

She can´t help and turn to him as she gives him a tired but happy smile since this session took over 2 hours of him just explaining and calculating together.

"Thank you so much for your help, I don´t know what I would do without you," expressing her graditute while packing her stuff "Could I perhaps repay you?"

Miguel leans back and packs his schoolbag as well "How about before we start our next time we have lunch together? I´m still new here and don´t know my way around and I don´t know if you´ve already had the chance to explore our school"

Confusion is written over her face "What do you mean?" she chuckles akwardly.

"Aren´t you new here as well?" he raises a brow and is seemingly confused now.

Chuckling she explains "No no no, I´ve been in this town since birth so I actaully do know my way around, I could be your guide if you like" she puts her hand before her giggling mouth to hide it and Miguel again can´t help but find her adorable with the whole behaviour and looks.

Everything she does just suits her.

"Oh sorry, I don´t know why I automatically assumed you were new here, but yeah I´d like to have a sweet one like you as my tour guide... ugh when I think about that one of the other could be my guide, I already get a headache"

Again she can´t help but giggle at his confession and as they two stand up, she can´t help but notice the height difference which makes her a little bit nervous again. Miguel notices it immediately which makes him smirk.

"I´m Y/N, by the way" she awkwardly introduces herself as she remebered to do it at the beginning which makes it a bit awkward again but he only leans down to hear her better and perhaps to tease her a little.

"Y/N, it´s a pretty name and it suits you perfectly... and I´m Miguel o´hara" he says with a little smirk.

🕸🕷

Hope you like this one, I somehow struggled to make him seem 'more rich' and her more 'nerdy' with the set up but I still hope you'll enjoy this one, my friend <3

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara one shot #miguellover07 #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x fem!reader #ask

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lilacliquors · 1 year ago

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pairing: johnny cage x reader

word count: 1030

notes: on the sixth day of ficmas, lilacliquors gave to me ... a christmas party with johnny cage!

it was your boyfriend’s annual christmas party, a great chance to see all of your old friends again and catch up. johnny spared no expenses, going all out to make sure everyone had the times of their lives. and nothing made him happier than to see the smiles and hear the familiar laughter of everyone he knew.

it was getting late when your guests started to filter out, hugging you goodbye and thanking you for hosting, and for the party favors you had put together. and if you were the one responsible for their white elephant gift, they threw in an extra thank you as well. soon, the house was quiet, and you two were alone at last. christmas music still played softly on the radio, and you began to gether up some a few stray dishes and plastic cups. you brought everything into the kitchen, tossing the cups into the trash and and setting the dishes into the sink. you started to wash them, gently swaying to the music as you did so, virtually oblivious to everything going on around you. you didn’t hear johnny entering or walking up behind you, but you felt his arms wrap around your waist as you reached to put the dishes away. he was quiet as he held you, pressing his lips to your hair, and you both listened to the song on the radio.

“johnny, we can’t stay like this,” you chuckled, and he hummed quietly.

“it’s lonely without you,” he whispered back.

“i’ve gotta get back to work cleaning this up.”

“but baby, i’m lonely out there…”

you smiled and turned in his arms, reaching behind you to turn off the sink and grab the rag to try your hands off on.

“this has to get done,” you reminded him.

“what’s the hurry? it can wait,” he replied, his hands pressing against your back.

“then it just piles up!”

“but think about relaxing by the fire for just a bit, come on…”

“we can relax when this is done.”

“but you’ve earned a drink after everything you’ve done. go sit for a tiny break while i make it.”

despite your protests, he gently dragged you from the kitchen and to the living room, where he had you sitting on the couch as he poured you both a glass of your special spiked holiday punch. he handed you the glass, and he sat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer to his side.

“what would your mother think if she saw this mess?” you asked.

“oh, it’s jot that bad in there,” he said, playing with your hair while you sipped at your punch.

“phew, forgot how strong i made this,” you said, fanning your face.

“you spoiled us tonight with it,” johnny said with a grin. you rolled your eyes playfully and took another sip, his charm slowly winning you over once again.

“i really ought to get back to cleaning,” you mumbled.

“or you could snuggle with me a bit longer,” he suggested with faux innocence. you looked up at him, your eyes locking together, and you felt your resolve cracking even further. his eyes were mesmerizing, and he truly had you under some kind of spell.

“the mess is bugging me,” you said, reaching to set your glass down.

“and being without you is bugging me,” he sighed.

“you can come on inside, keep me company.”

“or you can stay here with me, and let me kiss you once or twice. haven’t done it all night.”

his thumb traced over your bottom lip ever so gently, and you felt yourself melt. he was working overtime to convince you to stay with him, and maybe he was right. the mess could wait a little longer, and you had been on your feet all night, making merry and keeping on top of everything. you were allowed some downtime, and you didn’t get to spend too much time with your boyfriend …

“okay, let me just go put the rest of the clean dishes away, and then i’ll come right back, promise,” you said, but he kept his arm around you.

“i can’t get over how beautiful you look tonight. just one kiss, please?” he whispered. you felt your cheeks heat up, and before you could say anything, his lips were pressed to yours, and your eyes fluttered shut. one of your hands cupped his face, and he held you close, making sure you couldn’t go anywhere. when you pulled away from one another, your head was spinning, and he had the biggest grin on his lips.

“god, your lips are delicious,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help yourself. you leaned in for another kiss, and he eagerly obliged, returning it while shifting to pull you onto his lap. the fire crackled nearby, and the music continued to play softly, but you paid it no mind. you were happy here, and your mind had finally agreed that a little break was warranted after all of your hard work that night.

when your kiss ended, he continued to hold you on his lap, and he handed you your drink again. you were snuggled up to him, your head on his shoulder, and he kissed your forehead every few minutes, just as a gentle reminder of how much he loved having you like this. you smiled and sipped at your spiked punch, the alcohol warming your body as you enjoyed each other’s company in comfortable silence. snow was falling outside, and the night had never felt so perfect.

“looks really cold out there,” you said, and he nodded.

“i’ll break out the extra blankets for tonight, then,” he said.

“perfect. sorry i was so stubborn earlier,” you said, and he shrugged with a chuckle.

“it did take a lot of convincing. but aren’t you glad you stayed?” he asked, nuzzling you gently.

“yeah, really glad. guess you’re just as stubborn as i am.”

“always will be.”

you kissed his cheek, then settled further into his arms, and he held you with a happy hum. you were right where you needed to be. and the dishes could wait forever.

#johnny cage #johnny cage fluff #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage ficmas #12 days of ficmas 2023 #lilacliquors ficmas 2023

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secret-smut-sideblog · 3 months ago

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The Fox

Lavellan x Blackwall

18+ mass death, disassociation, fear, alcohol, dubcon, urgent sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasm, overstimulation, body control, implied SA (with none taken place), hurt/comfort, talks of suicide, pregnancy, and implied sterilization

Still on the tender outskirts of her love, Blackwall struggles with regaining her full favor as they must venture to a monumental decision in the Arbor Wilds...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

The little elf orphan sat in the open curve of her long legs. Her face all scrunched up in concentration as she attempted the braid again. Vella's gentle encouragement a hush, watching beyond white cloud eyes as small hands twisted her golden hair.

The scene ached Blackwall's heart in a way he couldn't help. A vision of things that could be if the world could just be quiet for one fucking moment.

He imagined this little cherub of a girl as theirs. Both of them sat near quiet water, surely up to trouble, if he had any say in it. The little one finding bugs and frogs. Vella would appraise them with an open joy, showing her even more critters under rocks and logs. Both darting between cattails like spirits among low cricket song. Blackwall would shake his head and feign annoyance at the mess they were tracking on the porch as he attempted to call them in again for dinner. Both giggling and chasing him down with their muddy limbs in protest.

Just this imagined future lined his chest in bliss.

But how much luck would they have to harness to get there?

Maker, she wasn't even fully in his stead again.

He could never blame her, not ever. Even the thought of repair was far more than he deserved, but it still dug a hole in him. They had shared a handful of new tender moments that he treasured, but she still stared foreign at him sometimes. Like he was a puzzle she was still trying to sort.

Of course he understood. But he ached to prove that she could trust him, especially now. And he had been trying to prove the raw of him but was struggling to toe the line between earnest and overbearing.

The cruel irony. He was finally living truthfully and had yet to regain the trust of the woman he loved.

He knew that they couldn't go back to the soft of that first love. Something new would have to take root in the burned earth.

But how much time did that seedling have to settle into soil in the midst of war?

The little girl got frustrated, her face all red pouted. Vella smiled, palming the top of her head. Leaning in to whisper something in her perfect pointed ear. The little girl's eyes lit at the whisper. Rising on too fast limbs to run toward Blackwall, startling him.

"Mama, I mean-" Her big blue eyes blinked up at him. "Miss Vewwa said you have toys?"

"Toys?" He pushed through the pang of hurt. This poor little angel.

"Pwease?" She held a tiny flat palm up to him.

"Uhhh..." He looked up at Vella, lost to the sweet request and inexplicably panicked. She smiled softly, indicating whittling with hands.

"Oh...!" He rummaged through his workbench, finding a small figurine of a wolf he had been mindlessly carving in his downtime. "Will this do...?"

"Ohhh..." The little girl's eyes lit in coveted enthusiasm. "Wowfy..." Nodding in furrowed certainty.

"Thank you!" She took the figure and held it tight to her chest. Wandering away towards the garden with her treasure, already shielding it from view.

Unexpected tears threatened his vision. He blinked them away rapidly as he cleared his throat in stalwart grunts. Vella smiled at him fondly from afar.

Cullen approached her from behind, his eyes already wary withheld bad news.

Makers balls, what now?

She gave a little startled jump as Cullen cupped her shoulder, turning to smile in that open way that she couldn't manage with him anymore. But her smile fell as she took in his visage.

He took her hands, leaning his head in mournfully.

Oh... oh no.

Blackwall strode towards them. Falling within earshot.

"Your clan... Your former clan. I'm so sorry, Vella."

"No..." She breathed, staring up at him in cold disbelief.

"They can't..." She cupped over her mouth.

"My reports say they..." He sighed deep in his throat. "They were wiped out. They fought hard. There could be survivors, but we have no confirmation."

"No, I would've seen..." Her hand fell shaken from her mouth. "Oh gods, I..." Blind eyes wide with dawning horror. All color drained from her face.

"I have to go, right?" Her eyes creased with lost anguish, looking up at Cullen as if he had a resolution. "I have to look for survivors. I have to bury them. I have to..."

He shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, but we need you here. Now more than ever."

"They needed me..." She whispered in quiet anguish.

Her face slowly fell to that terrible hollow pain. Eyes glazed over as numb set in.

Fear struck throughout his belly. The tears, the wailing, even the wild violence of grief didn't scare him as much as that absence behind her eyes.

"Vella...?" Cullen's call echoed his fear. Clearly alarmed to not receive her sorrow.

"Do you need something more from me?"

"No, I suppose not. I'm really... I'm so sorry. This is my..." The admission of his leading role in this annihilation caught in his throat. His utter failing of her. Leaving it to suffocate there.

"Are our men ready in the Arbor Wilds?" The cold clip of her voice raised the hair on his arms.

"Yes...!" Cullen startled, still lost in his guilt. "But, maybe we should take time..."

"You need me here." She said simply. Taking a backward step to bow herself away.

Cullen's face fell further, his own words a poisoned dagger. He pressed a palm to his chest.

"Vella, I..."

"You're dismissed, commander. Get some rest. We have a battle to win tomorrow."

She turned without another word.

Blackwall reached for her, trying to catch her forearm as she passed. But she simply sidestepped his fingers. Locked forward.

She barely felt the punch of a dagger enter her side. Her sight far ahead, firing down precision.

She took the hilt from her and drove it hard into the throat behind her. Hearing the body thud at her back. Her fingers took back up on the taut of string in the same motion. Unleashing arrows in an unrelenting hail. Eyes held wide open. Perched high on stone.

She only paused briefly at mosaics as they passed. Giving Dirthamen's a slide of her palm within the clip of her stride.

"This is the last trial." Morrigan's voice ahead.

Vella nodded. They had worked in tandem to solve the route of the floor tiles. Morrigan leading as her scout.

Multiple eyes dug into her back. Concern radiated off her companions, but she didn't have room to entertain it. Though...

Was it just their eyes?

She saught along the outskirts of her spectral sight.

"There, something opened ahead." Morrigan beckoned.

"Good, let's go." She held her hand out and Blackwall took up at her side as his wide hand led her down.

"My lady, you're wounded!" He gasped.

"Here-" he pressed a gentle palm to her side where her field dressing must have started leaking through.

"I'm fine. We're almost there."

"Let us attend to you, my dear." Dorian sighed.

"I have potions, Lathallan."

"Don't waste them. Come."

She almost missed the cold voice of her father in her ear. Reminding in these moments in that cruel encouragement only he could give. She had long wondered if her god spoke through the ghost of him. The silence fallen over her now spoke volumes.

"Tis not what I expected..." Morrigan marveled, giving a slow spin to surroundings Vella was blind to. But the echo spoke of a large cathedraled space. "What was this chamber used for?"

Vella was certain they were being watched. A trickling up her spine. She didn't bother turning.

A voice ahead spoke Elvhen.

"Stop."

Vella paused her step.

"We're trespassing. I apologize."

There was a great pause all around them.

"You are not like the other invaders." The voice continued, now spiked with suspicious curiosity. "How do you speak as we do?"

"Pardon?" She peered forward. The beautiful shift of an otherworldly male face took up her vision.

"I'm Dalish..." She was somewhat lost to the question. "We speak the same tongue."

"Yes, you have some vague inkling of Elvhen traits. But your speech is ours. How?"

Solas' hand took up on her shoulder.

"I should have told you. Your god has given you knowledge beyond your means." His voice was raised enough to carry. He tugged gently at the knot of the blindfold behind her head. "It's better if you show them."

Vella nodded. Letting him unmask her with nimble fingers.

She widened her sight, seeing the entire of the room for a brief burst. A new development she had been honing. Eyes wide in what she knew was bright silver.

"Ghilan'nain..." The man breathed.

"Not quite." She smiled.

"I am called Sorrow. We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those like you who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to defend this place."

"I know why you've come." He sighed. "You wish to drink from the path of well of sorrows."

Morrigan translated needlessly in a hush, her furtive glance hungry.

"It is not for you." The clip of his voice clear that he witnessed Morrigan's desire. "It is not for any of you."

"I agree." Vella stepped forward. "But an enemy is behind us. Someone far worse. Ravenous to the point of madness."

"I've honored this sanctuary to the best of my ability. We must reach the well if only to confirm he cannot have it."

Abelas paused for a moment, then gave a permissive nod.

"I believe you. You have shown respect to Mythal."

Mythal. The Great Protector. The All-Mother. How fitting. To be in the shrine to the dead mother of her god.

She had always been surrounded by the dead.

"Shall you grant us passage?"

"The well of sorrows may be too much for a mortal to comprehend."

A sick jest of certainty rose up her back. Oh, all she knew of madness.

"Brave it if you must. But know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

Morrigan bickered with Abelas about semantics, but all Vella could see was the swirling deep turquoise of the pool. So lit in color it surely must have reflected in her eyes.

"The will inside..." Her eyes closed. Holding a hand to gently dance fingers over the depth of it.

"Then you understand the danger. I wish luck to whomever takes on this burden."

"Thank you."

"I hope you find a new name." Solas assured.

"This well..." Morrigan stepped forward, staring down at the still water. "What do you see?"

"It's... history. Overlapping knowledge. The magic is..." She let out and involuntary shiver. "Potent."

"Yes, it feels hungrier than I expected."

Not hunger. Yearning. A hand reaching for another in dark. Seeking.

"I should be the one to wield it." Morrigan urged. "I'm the only one trained to bear it."

You're wrong.

"This is the key to that eluvian, sister. I can use it in your service."

"Or more likely to your own ends." Solas scoffed.

"What would you know of my ends, elf?" Morrigan bit.

"A human taking up the ancient knowledge of elves..." Dorian crossed his arms, giving her a dubious stare.

Their arguing fell again to her peripheral.

It was just her and the well. Staring down at the swirling miasma of promised madness.

She almost laughed.

Right back to where she started.

And yet, this was a connection to thousands of years of her ancestors.

Bound to the will of a fractured dead god.

But their voices would be hers. She wouldn't be adrift again. No longer calling into the night with a song unable to be answered.

She let her eyes fall closed.

To know the despair of being the last of your kind. To bear rusting pins in the cushion of your lone heart. No ache hollowed quite that way.

Would she be willing to loop her wrist to another god to hear them again, however dead she was claimed to be?

For the first time, she pulled deep into her body.

She had never communed with her god, but found him between her lungs and her spine. Waiting for her.

One question already spoken with resigned certainty.

I was never to be free, was I?

There was no voice other than her own. But the narrow hollow between her spine filled into the lightning of a hand. Confirming her gently forward.

"Please, darling. Let the witch use the well." Blackwall's voice begged low in her ear.

How could she?

She reached back and squeezed his hand in a silent one-sided apology. Then, strode forward and let her body fall to a kneel deep in water.

"Sulahn!"

"Dove, no!"

She tightly squeezed her eyes and fell forward on crossed arms. Letting the water engulf her completely. Opening her mouth to release a deep held gurgling scream.

The water stung in her throat, in the wound in her side. Dizzy light filled her vision as the tide pulled as high as her water drenched wail. Pulled all at once deep beneath the earth.

Darkness.

Swirling.

Who are you?

You understand us?

"I must stop him." She gasped. Clenching her side. "He will shatter this world."

An elvhen vessel?

Which one, child?

Uncertain whispers circled heavily around her head.

"I am already bound. I am not afraid. Please, elders. Help me."

She swore she could hear a smile in the voice that leaned down to her ear.

Mythal favors your path.

It filled her mind in tightly unfurling light, the pain excruciating. She held through the deep groans her body emitted. Pressing the heel of her hands hard to her eyes. A madness she had trained her entire life to endure at the very edge of unraveling her. But not quite.

Very good. Wake now, daughter.

The space between her spine became a loop. One many fingers hooked into and pulled hard as the light burned deep into her.

"Maker, spare her. Please, please wake up!"

Blackwall's terrified eyes appeared over her.

Her hand rose of its own will to his brow, pressing a palm to the plane. She watched it move in soft wonder.

His eyes fell closed.

An impossible moment of peace passed between them.

Vella pressed her opposite hand to her chest in astonishment.

Warm. All warm inside.

A tentative smile pulled her lips.

He's here.

Her eyes lifted to a far point. The cry of rage telling of Corypheus' arrival.

"Quick, to the eluvian!" Blackwall pulled her to feet at her call.

She looked down in wonder at her body all aglow with blue light as they ran. The magic infused in her body made manifest.

"Go! I have to close it!" She shouted to Blackwall as his eyes begged her to go ahead of him. Only relenting when Dorian shoved his back, closely followed by Solas.

At last, it was just her. Staring up in awe at a figure that rose in the spinning deluge of water she had drank of. Glowing so bright in turquoise within the great sea surrounding it.

"Mother..." She hushed.

The figure regarded her for only a moment with the warmth of a smile before Vella dove to tumble through. Hearing glass shatter in her wake.

The fall pulled deep in her gut. She tightly closed her eyes and held breath.

With a great shudder of air, she fell back into the world. Caught in a disorganized pile by the strength of wide arms. A deep gasp left in a strained huff from a warm chest.

Vella couldn't help it. A laugh bubbled from deep within her belly.

Unbelievable. All of it.

"It is done." Morrigan smiled. Waving the portal away in a flourish of hands. The eluvian fell quiet, left to a mirror once more. Reflecting her love tightly cradling her to him in a tangle of limbs, and the people surrounding her in concern. Smiling with her laugh.

"And how do you feel?" Dorian led, smiling over his wine at her. Sliding a glass to her by instinct, giving no push back when she waved it away. She had no qualm with drinking, it just didn't suit her.

The revelry around them was a sweet balm to a near constant strife. Herald's Rest lit with conversation and high spirits.

"Good." She marveled, the tips of her fingers grazing her chest in thought.

"Really?" He laughed within his own wonder. "You're housing the essence of two elven gods, and you feel... good?"

"I think they calm each other." She mused after a moment of searching. "There must have been some love between them at some point. Mother and son. Maybe being joined in me... it brings them some small peace."

"That's beautiful." Dorian smiled. Pressing a palm to her chest. "That's a rare thing. Finding absolution with a parent."

"Don't we both know it." She sighed, pressing her palm over his. "I'd like to turn in my Shitty Dad Club badge."

"I reject your resignation outright. You wouldn't leave me to my lonesome, would you?"

"Never." She smiled, taking his hand to pull him to feet.

"Now, I've heard you know a rather interesting dance." She smiled mischievously. "Something about scarves?"

"Oh, I'll show you." He smiled back with equal intent. "But only if you show me yours."

"What ever do you mean?" She batted her eyelashes innocently. Allowing herself to be pulled to the dance floor.

"Oh, come now." He gave her a glance up and down. "I know those hips aren't just for show."

She smiled wide, scrunching her nose at him with all the endearment of her heart.

"Well..." She began to slow rock her hips. "Dalish custom isn't all memorizing history. But you show me yours first. Let's see if I match."

A whoop rose from the crowd. Dorian appraised her, then moved into a crouch.

She watched the twist of his hips, the slide of his feet. Following the raise of his shoulders and tilt of his head with a steady nod of memorizing with the music.

As soon as the beat rounded, she leaned to her own crouch. Mirroring the salacious twists of his body as he moved through the dance again.

The crowd whistled and hyped around them. Many feet stomped the beat into the floor. The Chargers were particularly rowdy cheering on. Whooping and shouting, leaning low into their calls. Bull watching Dorian hungrily from a post.

She smiled into the twist of her hips. It had been so long since she had danced. Her body was made for it. To wind and stretch and bend.

Dorian tilted his head at her, smiling wide. Asking for her routine.

She raised an eyebrow. A challenge thrown.

He stood back, giving her another jut of his chin.

She lowered her hips into her favorite dance. Winding her hips in a figure eight as her feet crossed over, raising her arms as clouds among her shoulders. A fluid graceful gyration her people called Rain Falls From Them.

The Chargers hollered and chanted with the wind of her hips. Further erupting when Dorian caught the shape of it.

A bliss long since lost spread through her chest. Dancing her people again with another. Heart soaring with the movement of limbs.

She fell back from it laughing. Clapping into the rhythm of Dorian's hips. Dissolving back into the crowd whooping her own cheers.

Hands caught her hips as she walked backwards.

"Maker, why can you move like that?" Growled low in her ear. His breath sweet and bold with mead.

"Well, like Dorian said..." She wound her hips into his pelvis in a tease. "These hips aren't just for show."

Blackwall hissed a breath between teeth.

"That's it. You're coming with me."

He lifted her by the waist over his shoulder.

She giggled as he carried her out. It felt good to give into the playful for a moment, despite everything. The stars were a full tapestry across the sky, leaving her in wonder again. The warm in her chest thrummed.

"Can I show you something?" She whispered in his ear.

He flipped her to be carried in his arms. Smiling down at her in the truth of inebriated adoration. Regarding her like she hung those same stars.

"Show me."

She pointed out of the gates to the forest. Wriggling her hips enough to indicate she wanted down. Leading him shyly by hand down a thin trail she had carved into the forest floor.

His small tent she had smuggled from their journey to Skyhold stood in a cozy alcove of trees. Beads and trinkets hung from its posts and the remains of a small campfire sat at its mouth.

He took in the small encampment like she had revealed something sacred to him. His eyes fell on her fully soaked in gratitude.

"Oh, darling..." His voice raw with admiration.

"I didn't know you were a sentimental drunk." She teased, leading him inside the tent in a crawl.

"I just like you a lot. I really like you." He warbled, his hands seeking her in dark.

"Hey, shhh..." She soothed, standing on knees. Beckoning his hands to her hips.

"No, you need to know." He urged in the tender of drunken honesty. "I want to be with you all the time. All the time. I know you should hate me but I can't stand it. Could you let me? Just for tonight?"

Her heart speared at the earnest of his plea.

"It's not that I don't want to, bear. Don't ever think that..." She clarified in a hush. "Gods, you're probably going to forget this by morning..."

He shook his head in a desperate wag. Pawing at her hips, her waist.

How much use was it to try to explain the sliver she was trying to extract from her heart to him in this state. Alcohol rendered him to a single plane of longing.

This was a mistake this early. She was certain of it. She knew better.

"Come here to me." She hushed, dropping her cloak from her shoulders.

Blackwall released a raw breath. Descending on her as driftwood tangles in flood. Kissing her with the same urgency. Body pressing steam into hers.

She whimpered into his kiss. Her body met his with equal unbridled hunger. Free to be honest in the promise of this all being forgotten by sunrise. Pushing him back onto the bedroll with passion that poured unfiltered from her.

She pulled at his clothes in silent begging and his hands scrambled to assist her request. Wrenching garments from each other in a flurry of movement. Only breaking the plead of their lips in gasping necessity.

He kept pulling back to take her in with hazy eyes, murmuring disbelief under his breath. Pulling her to him again by the curve of her head. His wide hand on the small of her back demanded her flush to him. Fallen to straddle flat on his torso.

She moaned little calls into his mouth, cooing for him again. His breath hitched between his deep moans as she ground against his belly. The scent of the wet already flooding from her filled the air, soaking the dark hair on his stomach.

"Maker, Vella..." He groaned between their lips.

"Please," She urged under her breath. "I need to ride you."

He nodded fervently against her. Releasing her love swollen mouth in a gasp.

She rose on knees and scootched back with undignified eagerness. His hands grasped at her thighs with the same furtive need. Barely contained desire burning forest fire between them.

"Please, please, baby, please," He whispered with the raw desperation of a man denied even as she lined him up below her. His chant only cut off by a guttural moan as she lowered around him.

Her body shuddered with pleasure as he filled her to her brim again in a mind-numbing stretch. Her hand anchored on his lower belly as her eyes rolled up in her head. Only halfway in and already aching within for more.

His hands pulled at her thighs, her hips, her waist. Seeking purchase as a climber would on slick rocks. Staring up at her through eyes straining to stay open as she slowly rose her hips again.

"You feel so good, Maker-" He began to babble in the deep growl of his voice as she rode. "Fuck, you're so beautiful and I want to be buried in you I love you so much oh shit I'm sorry I can't it's all-"

His voice cut off again into deep huffing gasps as she moved to a canter. His hand scrambling to grasp white knuckled at the bunched blankets and thrown clothes surrounding them.

She led the hand digging fingers into her thigh to her clit with hurried breath.

He took up the post she assigned with the intensity of duty. Rising onto an elbow to watch her face as his fingers swirled firm circles. Keeping up with the increasing pace of her ride with the same diligence. The twitching hard muscles of his belly and catch of his breath the only telling of strain.

"Fuck, please cum darling." He whispered in a near furious pleading growl. "I want you to ride me until I beg you to stop and don't. Don't stop. Keep going no matter what I say. Please don't stop."

Her orgasm unraveled in her gut as vicious and as deep as a flood driven river. Pulling her eyes up to the top of her skull as she shuddered and bucked hard around him. Her mouth fallen open in the silent echo of a scream. Her stolen breath only broken by strangled whines.

"Yes, yes," He groaned heavy as his hands took up on her ass. Thrusting up into her with the anchor of bent legs. "Fuck you're so perfect. Please, again, I need you to do it again. Could you cum again for me pretty girl?"

She nodded with dizzy desperation as she bit her lower lip. Her eyes glazed with overcome tears, hips falling into his as the sea crashes into stone. Another release swelling in her pelvis with each stroke.

"Fuck, I can't-" He growled, flipping her harshly onto her back with strength unchecked. "You're too-" He accused in cut groans.

He bore down onto his forearms and thrusted hard into her. Pinning her fully beneath his weight. No choice but to ride out the orgasm that was about to break.

She clawed at his wide shoulders as it struck, wailing cries into his neck. Fingernails surely leaving welts as it dismantled her at her core. Tears spilled down her temples unbidden.

The overstimulation was near unbearable as he kept driving into her, riding out her clenches with animal violence. His hands pinned her shoulders to the ground. Not able to move even if she tried as he had his way with her. Fallen limp as her pleasure squeezed flutters around him.

"I'm sorry, my love. Please forgive me, I have to-" He gasped between the huffed moans of teetering release. "Oh, fuck, I should pull out, oh shit, I-"

He fell into a tight juttering curl against her as warmth flooded her cunt. His curled hands clawing into the blankets next to her head. Bellowing choked moans into her hair. Body a trembling shadow over hers.

She combed shaken fingers through the sweat damp of his hair. Torn between wanting to back away and wrap her limbs so tightly he could never be disconnected from her. Coming back to lucidity shaken between the exhaustion of labored breath.

She despised the splinter that wouldn't push out of her heart. Gods, she wanted to find solace in him again. But something kept it digging deeper and deeper the harder she tried to reach it. If she could just cut deep enough into the gore of it to get the barb out. To pull it far enough to the surface to see it clearly. Certain that this was a mistake but unable to understand why.

Frustrated tears flooded her eyes. Wiping them away with the swipe of an angry hand.

"Oh..." He drew back from her in dawning horror. "Oh no, Vella, no-" His eyes fell over her state with shaken pupils. "Fuck I'm..."

"No, no!" She urged beyond the warble of her breath. "You haven't hurt me. I'm okay. I'm just-"

Scared.

There it was.

I'm scared of you.

"Please don't leave." She rushed, rising up to him. "I need you here. I need to push through it."

His eyes creased in layered mourning. His own internal battle waged beyond his gaze. Finally nodding and tangling his hands into her hair to pull her head to his chest. The rapid crash of his heart mirroring the panicked run of hers. Bleeding the wound in the shuddered sob that she pressed into him. Fingers digging into his forearms with the fledgling agony of healing.

Her scent surrounded him. Even the angry pulse of a headache couldn't sour that. He took full breaths against the blankets, reaching for her blindly.

"Dove?" He mumbled. Blearily opening his eyes to old surroundings. Was this his tent...?

Vague memory washed over him of the previous night. Groaning into his own shame. He was never very good at forgetting.

The blankets next to him were dreadfully cold and...

He rose on elbows in a jolt.

A pool of blood wet his fingers. Still warm and smeared at the edge were she had sat up.

He rose to feet in a whip of movement. Barely taking the time to pull boots and a cloak on. The chill of winter stung his cheeks as he searched the ground, finding a small splattered trail between her footprints.

Rushing down the traces of her, he couldn't help but think of how a fox will hide when it's injured. Curling into a ball in a hollow to bleed out alone. Determined to not become easy fodder for a predator or draw it to the pack.

The soft of her voice picked up on the air and filled his chest again.

"You can't see it? I mean, I guess not."

There was a silent pause.

"Yes, a mirror would be helpful." She sighed.

Blackwall rounded the corner of a great tree.

She sat under the overhang of a boulder, twisted to try to see her side. A needle and thread attempting new stitches around the press of her palm to stem the flow of her wound.

"Godsdamn this shoulder." She growled, dropping the thread to shake her fingers out. "No, I know, it's easier with help."

"Good advice, that." He stepped forward, entering her sight again.

"Fuck!" She startled. Shaking her head with a sigh. "I'm going to put a bell on you."

He chuckled, taking another tentative step forward. "I'm not opposed to a collar."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow at him, that mischievous smile back. Maker, how he missed it. "You'd let me domesticate you?"

"Depends." He reached the fold of her legs, crouching down at her side.

"On?" She looked up at him with those cloud captured moonstone eyes. He never thought he could find her more beautiful, but her new eyes made him dizzy with wonder.

"You need a good guard dog around here?" He cupped over her hands. Asking to take over with gentle leading of her fingers.

"It really speaks to you, then?" He led the needle through in precise loops as she dropped her arms. She barely flinched as he worked diligently to mend her.

"They do. It's kind of nice. Voices are much easier than visions." She started to pull her knees to her chest protectively, but he gently pushed her thigh down.

"I need your side, sweetheart."

She relented in a sigh, electing to lean elbows on her knees instead.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He promised.

"Were you going to tell me?"

He paused.

"Yes. On the Storm Coast. When we went to the ruins." He took the stitches back up, grateful to have a tactile task to focus on.

"I was going to tell you, but I lost my nerve. You found the badge first, and I just..."

He shook his head.

"Disappointing you... it was more than I could bear in that moment."

"If the trial hadn't happened, would you have?" She looked over her shoulder. "Told me?"

He owed her nothing less than the entire of the truth.

"Yes. But not until it was too late."

She nodded, seeming to appreciate his honesty.

"I just can't stop thinking about it." She hushed. "The whole time. It was the whole time."

"It was." He tied off the thread. "I can't take that back."

"Can I ask you something?" He rubbed her shoulder. The puncture scar under the shifting blade a token of stubborn pain.

She nodded.

"Were you going to tell me? That you were dying?"

She turned to him in shock.

"I never told..." Her eyes searched the ground, then seemed to settle on an answer. Emitted with a sigh.

"Cole..."

"Solas told me."

"Solas? Wait..." She searched lost again. "Did I dream about it...?"

"Gods, both of them..." She sighed wearily.

He pulled his heavy cloak over her and bid her to stand. Still patient for her response.

"I don't know when I would've told you." She hushed after a moment of walking.

He nodded, squeezing her hand.

"Maybe after the war? If we came out the other side somewhat intact."

"That long?" He tried to keep the hurt from his voice.

"It's not like an illness. Oh..."

She paused, seeming to put together his pain.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry. I didn't think of it like that. It's not like..."

It's not like Liddy.

He kissed her cheeks and the tips of her fingers. A silent gratitude for acknowledging his deep held anguish. She gave him a soft kiss on the lips in return.

"It's less an illness and more an hourglass. The madness didn't take my father's bloodline. They took their own lives within it. There's only so much a mind can take."

He took a shuddering breath. The nonchalance she spoke it with rang truer than any tearful admission.

"And now?"

"I... don't know." She paused. Considering her new circumstances.

"Oh, I guess I could ask." She startled at voices that must have been beckoning.

The spirits speaking in her mind set him on edge in the way Cole used to. But if they were like him, if they were truly speaking to her to help. Maybe he could warm to them in the same way.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head into herself.

"Your bloodline is known to us." She repeated for his sake. "There have been others that have chosen the way of the blind, those rare exiled like you."

"In their sacrifice they..."

Her voice fell away.

He squeezed her hand.

"They extended their lives. But they could not escape the blood passed to their children. Even with Mythal's blessing, it cannot be undone."

She took a breath out through pursed lips, opening her eyes again.

"Thank you. I thought so." She spoke to the ether.

Her hand pressed to her belly, staring down at the future they couldn't mold. Smiling gently at herself, then up at him.

"You came inside me again." Her eyes glittered with faux dissaproval.

He groaned in admission.

"Your fault. Siren."

"Oh, don't think that was discouragement." She laughed brightly. Taking up the clip of their walk again. Swinging his hand in hers in simple joy.

"I will have to speak to Morrigan or the surgeon. See about a permanent fix."

"Are we... are we okay? Can I hold you close again?" He tried to hold back the desperation in his voice.

"Yes, bear." She smiled fondly at him. "I love you."

He took a great breath out. A deluge of emotion poured from his chest, the dam broken. An affront to try to succinctly fit into those words, but it would have to do.

"I love you."

Next Chapter

#this chapter hurt my heart so good #also listen to anyway by noah kahan if you want to sob 😔🔪#lavellan x blackwall #blackwall x inquisitor #blackwall smut #dragon age smut #lyrics from: anyway - noah kahan

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alaydabug2 · 3 months ago

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Yeah so I decided to take a happy song and make it sad again 🙂

Enjoy ☺️

(Keefe pov)

"Come on," Ro groaned. "Are you really not going to tell her?"

"No! Stop bugging me." Keefe turned around in his chair. "She's with Fitz. She's happy. If she wants him, who am I to tell her otherwise?"

"Don't you think you should at least let her know that she has another option."

"No. I'm not going to do that to her. That's going to complicate things, and I can't lose her."

Keefe sighed and went back to trying to draw the scene he was working on. It was when he had pranked his father the other day, covering him with goo.

"You've already lost her," Ro muttered. "She's with Captain Perfect."

"Ok and? That's none of my business. I need to stay out of it."

She rolled her eyes and stalked off.

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

"I can't believe it!" Keefe faked his smile. "I'm proud of you, dude. Finally manned up and proposed."

The war was over. It had been for quite a few years now. Sophie and Fitz had stayed together through it all. He didn't want his friends to hurt, but that small, extremely selfish part of him hoped that they'd break up. Give one more chance for him to shoot his shot. It never came.

"Thanks." Fitz's grin was so elated and genuine, Keefe felt awful for being jealous. Not that he'd ever tell him that.

He was happy for his friends. He truly was. But the emotional turmoil in his heart...

But... he was too late. And he knew that. The only thing he could do now was grit his teeth through it all and pretend he didn't feel his heart breaking apart every time he saw them together. Keep his tears in until he was safe in his room and cry himself to sleep.

It was torture. But he could do it. He'd been doing it for fifteen years at that point.

No, he couldn't....

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

Day of the wedding came. Ro had come to visit for it. Instead of the gloating he was expecting for never saying anything, there was a soft look on her face.

"You alright?" She asked.

Keefe shrugged. He adjusted his tie. "I'm ok," he lied.

"No, you're not."

"I'm happy for them," he insisted.

"That's not what I asked." She moved closer. "I asked if you were alright."

He cleared the thickness from his throat. "I have to be. I'm the best man."

Ro pursed her lips. She let out a sigh. "Ok, then. If you say so."

He played off the water in his eyes during the ceremony as tears of joy. They were anything but. He forced his lips into a smile. He had to make it through the ceremony. He couldn't have a breakdown at his best friend's wedding over the girl he was marrying because he loved her.

Gosh, he loved her. It physically hurt to watch. A constant beating to his heartstrings.

Then, it was announced for the bride and groom to kiss. Oh, he couldn't watch. It made him feel sick.

He had to, though. Had to pretend it was all alright. Cause he couldn't let all that hard work of pretending for years go down the drain. Two very important friendships depended on it.

He still couldn't stomach it, though.

The reception was next. He found a quiet table to sit at far off in the corner. In the distance, Sophie and Fitz were having their first dance. He could feel the waves of joy coming off of Sophie from where he was sitting.

They were happy.

That's what he had to keep reminding himself to keep him sane. They were happy.

He picked one of the dandelions out of the vase on the table. He gently blew on it. He stopped himself when he was about to make his wish.

For so many years, he would wish for Sophie to miraculously change her mind. But... that ship had sailed. It was hopeless now.

Instead, he wished he could get over his feelings. But he knew there was no hope for that either.

He could feel his composure breaking. A stray tear fell down his cheek. He smudged it away and fled to the bathroom.

He could only make it to lock himself in a stall before breaking out into heavy sobs.

All hope was gone. The girl he loved was with his best friend and he couldn't do anything to change that.

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc keefe sencen #kotlc sophie foster #kotlc fitz vacker #Spotify

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rosypenguins · 4 months ago

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🍃🌸Green Gang Headcanons!🌸🍃

🩷Elliot🩷

🩷Surprisingly a lot stronger than he seems. (Carries 40lb bags of gardening soil like it’s nothing.)

🩷Always really warm for some reason.

🩷Probably has terrible posture. Man is always hunched over.

🩷His hands are probably really shaky too. Even when he’s relaxed.

🩷Would 100% listen to Cavetown.

🩷Plays FPS games with Milly suprisingly. (Thank you @ratkingnezu for this one. 🙏)

🩷He probably secretly loves MLP. (And when Milly found out they definitely binged the series together.) (His favorite character’s Fluttershy.)

🩷Gives names to all his plants.

🩷Aurizzm King. 👑 (He’s literally so charming without even trying.)

🩷 Probably doesn’t know what a twink is. (But if he had it explained to him he’d probably unashamedly agree that he is a twink.)

🩷Would probably be more than comfortable wearing a skirt.

🩷“I need a kind of woman that’ll actually just kill me.”

🩷Needs reassurance 24/7. (Milly leaves him alone for two minutes. “She probably hates me…”)

🩷Terrified of rejection. (Literally avoids doing things just so he can’t be rejected.)

🩷Literally the whiniest person with the people he’s comfortable around.

🩷Finds ways to win arguments in the shower. (But clams up in any real confrontation.)

🖤Bradley🖤

🖤Probably gets mistaken as an adult a lot. (Everyone assumes he’s around 21-25.)

🖤95% of his wardrobe is just tracksuits. Man wears nothing else. (He’d totally wear one on a date or something and think nothing of it. 😭)

🖤Lifts 200lbs. “I’m gonna be so good at hugging.”

🖤Listens to a lot of heavy metal, but specifically the songs that have like the really soft vocals and absolutely insane drums.

🖤Oh but you know he also listens to Sabrina Carpenter whenever he goes jogging.

🖤Good at pretty much any sport he tries. (Even without any practice.)

🖤Probably likes his food really bland. Like he seasons nothing.

🖤Refuses to kill bugs if they get inside. Traps them in cups and takes them outside.

🖤Momma’s boy 100%.

🖤He’d be the type of boyfriend to overhear his partner off-handedly mention they’ve been craving strawberries, then go out to a strawberry field to pick only the finest of strawberries to bring home, wash, cut, and serve to his partner. (And then he says nothing about it afterwards.) (Man would be DEDICATED.)

🖤Physically incapable of talking to girls. (Or anyone he deems attractive really.)

🖤He’s one of those people that’ll just linger in the corners of social gathering for like two hours, surveying the vibes and conversations without realizing how creepy he’s coming off as, and only once he’s figured out the topic of discussing and how everyone’s feeling, he’ll try to blend into the conversation and not understand why everyone seems a little off-put by him.

🖤Has a really bad habit of just staring at people. (Probably likes people-watching in general.)

🖤The gardening club has a group-chat and Bradley refuses to talk in it. Like, the most he’ll do is send some Instagram reel of a cat, then go back to lurking for the next several months.

🖤Probably has that damn pineapple in his room still, which he talks to sometimes. 🍍

🖤Sometimes just leaves conversations without really saying anything. Like someone will be in the middle of talking and he’s just “-aight, I’m out.”

💚Faye💚

💚She’s really bad about staying asleep. She tends to wake up at like 3:00am every other night, and since I like to imagine her and Dom share a room, she probably wakes him up sometimes.

💚Midnight snacker 100%.

💚She’s really quiet when she moves, so sometimes it seems like she just spawns in when she’s actually been standing there for several minutes. (She’s fully aware of this and likes using it to startle people.)

💚Along with spiders I think she’d like sharks too.

💚Loves being in the dark.

💚Sensitive to loud noises.

💚Her and Dom were always bringing bugs inside the house when they were younger.

💚Was obsessed with fairies when she was younger. But not the pretty Disney fairies. She liked the fairies from mythology that would curse people and steal names. (She’d pretend to steal Dom’s name all the time.)

💚Also had a Warrior Cats phase. (She had a whole medicine cat OC and can still name all the herbs used in the books.)

💚Aro-ace.

💚Doesn’t really get mad often, but when she does she’s terrifying. (Even Dom get’s a little on-edge.)

💚Really bad at reading facial expressions and social cues. Unless something is directly stated she’s going to be very confused.

💚Neither her nor Dom have a single pair of normal white socks. They always have to be brightly colored, or have fun patterns on them.

🧡Dominic🧡

🧡When he first saw Ratatouille, it became his whole personality for like a month. (He still refers to every rat as Remy.)

🧡Probably watches Dragon Ball.

🧡Really likes Squishmallows.

🧡One of those people who wants like literally every animal as a pet. (Despite being fully aware that many of the animals he wants very well might kill him.)

🧡Probably still afraid of the dark. (And keeps a night-light in his bedroom.)

🧡Very accident-prone. (And has probably broken several bones before.)

🧡Pan. (And absolutely terrible at flirting.)

🧡He’s surprisingly good at reading people, but only because he knows what patterns and smaller details to look for. (He’s a little better with social cues than Faye, but not by much.)

🧡Cuts his own hair. Thinks hairstylists are a scam.

🧡Probably draws on his shoes.

🧡I like to think the sweater he wears is actually too small for him. (Considering the sleeves cut off a little short.) He outgrew it last year but he’s emotionally attached to it so he refuses to wear anything else.

🧡Had a Wings of Fire phase. (Is probably still in said phase.)

🧡Looks at obviously hot object. “Hm, I wonder if this is hot.” Places hand on hot object to check. Shocked when it burns him.

🧡Him and Faye always had to pull out the measuring tape whenever they were told to split something.

🧡He’s probably a lot more protective of Faye than he lets on. (He’s probably older by like, 5 minutes and refuses to let Faye forget that.)

🧡Left-handed. (Not really a headcanon I just wanted to point this out. If you go back to the first episode of the spin-off you can see Dom’s pencil’s on his left side. He later uses his left hand to spin the pencil around, too.)

🧡He likes stealing Elliot’s glasses to see how bad Elliot’s vision is.

🧡Him and Faye have oddly good senses of smell.

🧡The biggest baby when he’s sick. (Yet he actively refuses to take medicine.)

🧡Probably a secret anarchist.

#tmf #the music freaks #freakblr #tmf headcanons #tmf elliot #tmf bradley #tmf faye #tmf dominic #tmf dom #bonus headcanon: they’re all autistic #you don’t know how much it hurt me to crop dom out of the faye photo

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deathofacupid · 8 months ago

Text

mystery | clay jensen

a/n: why is the 13rw fandom so small... it's literally killing me. this takes place during the riot at liberty in season 4.

summary: you've always needed an excuse to talk to him, the riot came up, and there was your chance.

warnings: mentions of riots, fighting, and violence. cursing

pairing: fem!reader x s4!clay jensen

word count: 1.4k+ words

you can hear the faint squeaking of the swings as you close the door and lock your car. it's not winter quite yet, but there's a bristle of leaves floating in the air.

it's getting colder and darker; a dried up leaf sways down into your hair, and you pick it out, admiring the curl of the corners and the brown tint of the edges.

there's a chill in the soft breeze, and clouds appear when you breathe out. the trees blaze with autumn; red, gold and auburn leaves littered the ground like a many-hued carpet that crackled and rustled as you hike along. though, it's rather comparable to a graveyard - bugs lying on their backs' motionless.

there's a certain smell in the fall air, you're sure.

melancholy, you think. it smells melancholy. while you tread along the willow-lined path, you couldn't fully enjoy the warm colors that were gifted alongside, but rather saddened by the end of life.

the soft wind in summer, how it wrapped around someone, hugging their body, now a harsh, cold shove - tearing leaves off their branches.

their swirling waltz, a desperate, autumnal finale, mocks the fleeting glory of their once vibrant life. the shimmering gold, a cruel adornment, a gilded cage before their inevitable demise.

the leaves' shimmering gold is a bittersweet farewell, a prelude to their return to the earth from whence they came.

the song of birds in the air - not so much a song as a cry - at the lack of food for the winter.

autumn's beauty is a human illusion, a veil cast upon its raw truth. beneath the veneer of vibrant hues lies a season steeped in melancholy, a mournful dirge for life's retreat.

now knowing this, how could anyone be expected to enjoy a "beauty" of what's only death?

you follow the trail to the childern's playground, and you aren't thinking, not really. more of following a trail you've subconsciously set out for yourself, in hopes of escaping a round of life.

you're only half aware as you're walking there, the sound of the crunch on mulch, or the soft humming. based on the vocal noises, it's safe to assume that it's a man. boy?

you guess you'll find out.

when you near the swingset, you do see that it's a boy, maybe your age. squinting in the darkness, you realize that you know this boy.

after everything that's happened in the past few years, it'd be hard to not.

clay jensen, well-known senior, not for the reasons you think. famous for the the right things, or at least, you don't think they're the right things.

if you think back, you'd say it started from hannah. when you think of clay, the first thing that comes to mind is the butterfly effect.

one small lie, a simple rumor, triggering a whole chain reaction. someone (multiple people, actually) hurt hannah, hannah hurt herself, which in turn, hurt others.

you'd say clay was one of those people.

you remember freshman year, you had some classes with him, you liked clay, in a more than friends way. you left hints, but he never picked up on them, but you didn't give up.

he was quiet, shy, and nerdy - everything you wanted in a guy.

but when hannah entered the frame, and you saw how he looked at her, you realized he'd never look at you the same.

so you let them be.

last you heard, he was with the new girl. well, she wasn't that new anymore. ani... whatever her same was. you don't pay much attention.

you're not sure if they're together. he's still pretty cute, but he's kind of a lot.

you see him slowly swinging back and forth on the swing, and you take a seat beside him. his head snaps towards you, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"you have serious balls, jensen."

"um, thanks? sorry, uh, do i know you?"

you're gonna pretend like that didn't sting. "freshman year, we had so many classes together."

clay furrows his brows at you, before they hit the top of his head. "oh! yeah. y/n. right?"

"yep."

"sorry. i swear i know you, i just- there's a lot going on right now, you know?"

"i imagine."

"setting that car on fire was a risky move, though."

clay blinks, "w-what?"

"that was you right?"

"why? did you see?"

"so it was, then."

he presses his lips together, it's so much harder to get a laugh out've him. you swear it used to be so easy.

you try and amend your words, "no, i didn't see anything. i just... assumed. it seemed like something you'd do."

"uh-?"

"not in a bad way or anything. you've just kinda been like that," you're aware you're being rather vague, and you might've accidently offended him.

oh, well. if there's a hole, might as well dig it deeper, right? there's no where to go... but down?

that's probably not the best method of thinking.

"i don't- what do you mean?"

"well, like, you haven't flown under the radar with this stuff. again, not in a bad way. it's admirable, for the most part, how up-and-front you are with what you believe in and your causes or whatever."

"for the most part?"

you give him a look, "from everything i said, that's what you got?"

he chuckles, and you feel your heart warm. making him happy, it felt like a prize to be won. sure, it wasn't a laugh (yet), but it was something.

"did you... were you there the whole time?" clay asks.

"more or less. i, uh, saw the... i saw diego and justin in the hall."

"oh, shit. did you-"

"no, i didn't. say anything, i mean."

you're not stupid. sure, you aren't a genius, but you've got the ability to put two and two together. it's clear diego wanted justice for monty, and justin had to be part of that.

sure, what was going on between the two could've been only about jessica, but that didn't sound right. jess with diego? no way.

you'd seen her and justin together. that love doesn't come around often, and it'd be stupid to let it pass.

if jessica and justin were "affiliated" before, and now diego was in the picture, was jess trying to stand in his way? convince him of something else?

also, seeing jessica and justin making out kind of gave it away.

that would lead you to your next point, these kids.

alex, zach, clay, jess, justin, ani, charlie...

none of them fit together, and you couldn't see what they'd have in common. unless, it was something else keeping them tied.

almost all of them were mentioned on hannah's tapes, which also included bryce. monty and bryce were best friends, and nothing would've seperated them. monty would do practically anything for bryce.

instantly, it should be obvious that it wasn't monty who killed him.

these kids cared for their late friend, giving them much reason to hurt bryce. however, was it possible all of them ganged up on him? or just a few?

if it were just a few, what were keeping the others from telling?

more secrets, maybe?

if you knew, which you don't, you wouldn't tell.

"why?" he asks.

you look him in the eye, "something told me that wouldn't work out well for some people."

you see him still, clearly figuring out what to say. "what people?"

"i know more than you think i do," you shrug.

clay narrows his brows at you, "you don't know shit."

"oops, did i hit a nerve?" you wince. "sorry. we can drop it."

he stares into the darkness, licking his lips, contemplating his next move. "what do you know?" clay sighs.

"well, i know you know. i also you it wasn't you."

"how?"

"you've always had a hero complex, jensen." he remains quiet, so you continue. "it's not a bad thing, but it's not great either. it's gets you into tough situations, doesn't it? but you'd do anything for your friends. you're loyal. that's what makes you... you."

"i don't know what you think you know, but it's not true."

"okay," you shrug.

"o-okay?"

"it's not my shit to deal with. i don't need nor want to meddle."

clay play with his fingers, slowly nodding. "hero complex, huh?"

again, you shrug. "i call it as i see it."

"yeah, okay," his gaze flickers to you, then back to the floor.

"i'm, uh, sorry. for," you pause, vaguely gesturing around, "everything." when he stays silent, you go on. "i mean, hannah and bryce and monty and the whole trial. it's a lot for one person to deal with. especially a kid."

he pauses, clearing thinking of what to say, "i- i guess? it's never been... like, sure it's not normal, but i wouldn't take back anything i've done."

you open your mouth to say something, "not that i've done anything," clay adds quickly.

"um, okay."

he inhales, "yeah."

"yeah."

clay clears his throat, "well, uh, i should... get going. but... maybe we can do this again?"

"i'm up for interrogating you at midnight anytime."

"cool."

"bye, clay," you smile warmly.

"bye."

you watch him as he walks off into the distance, listening to the crunch of gravel underneath his tires.

clay seems like such a mystery.

and you love mysteries.

#clay jensen fanfic #clay jensen x reader #clay jensen fluff #clay jensen #clay jensen imagine #13rw #13 reasons why #13rw self insert #thirteen reasons why

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