#taking the leap because the bullshit is just so.. much?
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Anyone else write angst that is almost purely complaining about your own life but with the nice wallpaper of -insert character-?
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This time, an actual curveball here I know, the “wallpaper” is Sam 🧡.
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I just feel like the divine comedy of kissing your parents ass and neglecting yourself for them SO much that you start going deaf due to chronic ear infections and get so sick and tired of it all you just fucking move out is just -mwah- chef’s kiss.
#(I’m at the end of my fucking rope here—)#but in the fic’s case it’s Sam trying to be as unobtrusive as possible to whatever tf Dean and John have going on#till he literally can’t take it anymore and he moves out even before college officially started up#taking the leap because the bullshit is just so.. much?#yeah. idk. it’s 4am#might post it here. actually.#what else do I have to lose? save for the dregs of my hearing#HAH—I make myself laugh#no specific tags. we shame like Dean
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Whats your stance on A.I.?
imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!
like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.
but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!
so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.
consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.
but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!
see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???
so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.
i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.
(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)
#sarahposts#ai#ai art#llm#chatgpt#artificial intelligence#genai#anti genai#capitalism is bad#tech companies#i really don't like these people if that wasn't clear
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the teeth you know | dick grayson
Summary: The war between the humans and the vampires has lasted for a year now. When you fled Gotham, you thought that would be the last time you'd see the Vampire King and the love of your life, Dick Grayson. You were wrong.
Pairing: vampire king!Dick Grayson x fem!reader. based on the dc vs vampires comics
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings/tags: smut!!! 18+ only. oral fem receiving, manipulation, romantic dick, me retconning whatever smarmy little bastard they wrote in dc vs vampires bc that is NOT my dick. dick is literally so gone for you, vampire king or not. themes of death, war, vampires killing humans. if i missed any warnings lmk!
happy almost halloween! follow your dreams and fuck that superhero turned vampire. it'll definitely fix them this time.
the divider
If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡
Tonight, you dream.
You don't usually have good dreams. Not since this whole war began. Your dreams are filled with red. Always red, always terrifying.
Except when he's in them.
The first few times it happened, you yelled at him for intruding on your subconscious. For warping your emotions and making you miss him. He'd laughed at that.
You should look at yourself a little harder before blaming me. I just appear. You do all the dirty work of missing me, my love.
You're in Gotham in tonight's dream. The old Gotham, of course. Before any bastard undead creatures could suck the life out of your city. Before Dick Grayson haunted your dreams.
You're on a rooftop ledge, legs dangling. You stare at the harbor. The city's wet from the rain and alive. So alive. You start to cry.
"Oh, honey," he says, and you cry harder because he sounds exactly like the Dick you knew.
He keeps his distance, sitting a few feet away. You refuse to look at him, because this is exactly how he gets you to miss him. Dick makes a soft noise when you scrub at your face.
"Have you been eating enough?" he asks, and he almost sounds tender. But you know better. "I'll track down a produce shipment, tell my men to intercept the boat for you."
"Fuck you," you say. "I don't take food out of people's mouths."
Dick edges closer. He feels big in your dreams, looming over you.
"You wouldn't take food out of anyone's mouth. There's no longer a faction on the planet that requires all that food."
Because the vampires have all but wiped humans out. You snarl.
"Why can't you leave me alone?" you snap. "I know you're cruel, but the least you could do is let me dream in peace."
"Have I been cruel to you? I don't mean to be, sweetheart. I visit to check on you."
"Bullshit, Dick." Saying his name makes you shake. "You visit to manipulate me. I'm not going to give up my location, I'm not going to turn against my team, and I'm definitely never going to be your queen."
Dick is next to you on the roof ledge, now. He leans in and you stiffen at his eyes. You still aren't used to the absence of blue.
"Of course not. I wouldn't make you do anything you don't want to," he says, hand slipping across your jaw. You immediately slap him away. He makes a displeased sound.
"Why don't you find someone else to manipulate? I'm sure you've got countless minions who'd leap at the chance to be with you for eternity."
"I don't want anyone else," he murmurs. "I've thought of nothing but you since we parted. I wish you hadn't run, my love. Things would be better if we were together, you’d see.”
"Hah. You used to be so much better at compartmentalizing, Grayson. Guess vampires aren't so good at controlling their own desires."
He laughs, tosses his head back. His fangs glint. Dick's smile is deceiving; underneath the charm, there's unimaginable power. Vampirism has treated him well: he's always filled out, lean with muscle, carrying an easy strength everywhere he goes.
You, on the other hand, suffer from poor nutrition. You didn't sleep well before this mess; now, it's nearly impossible.
(Except when Dick visits, you feel rested the next morning. You'd never admit such a thing to anybody, but it's the truth.)
"Oh, sweetheart, but why would I bother controlling my desires now? There's no one stopping me from having what I want."
You stew in silence, turning away from him. Dick sighs.
"What do you want, hm? Tell me. I'll give you anything."
"I want you to free every human you're holding captive," you say. "And I want you and your people to stop this war."
"Such a golden heart," Dick says. "That's what I love about you. Always so good."
"You used to be good too," you shoot back bitterly.
"No, I used to be obedient. There's a difference. I used to be Bruce's little, golden cow."
“He treated you well.”
“When I fell in line,” he says.
You fall quiet again. Dick scoots closer. You scoot away.
"You know I've already let a few of the humans go. For you, honey. As a sign of goodwill. I'm not totally heartless, you know."
You roll your eyes.
"Right. Well, us cattle don't find it merciful when we're sent out on our own to die, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't thank Your Highness on my knees."
"You are not cattle," Dick says fiercely. "Don't talk about yourself that way."
"My life is no less human and no more important than theirs," you say, temper flaring. "So, yes, I am."
"That's—"
You fall off the roof before he can say any more. Your stomach swoops similarly to how it would if you were awake. But then the stars bleed into the skyline, and there's a flash of golden light.
And now you're in a bedroom. It's not one you recognize, richly decorated with golden accents and silk sheets and curtains. You'd almost mistake it for a room at Wayne Manor.
"Now this is much better, don't you think? You're wearing my favorite color."
You look down and see that your pajamas have been swapped for a long, blood red, chiffon nightgown. It hugs every curve and dip of your body, the sleeves and collar trimmed in soft fur. The neckline is somewhat modest, but the fabric is totally see-through past your thighs.
It's something a queen would wear.
"Beautiful," Dick murmurs, voice rough. "Fuck, honey. This is the sort of thing you should wear all the time."
"Change me back," you demand. "I am not a doll for you to dress up, Dick."
"No, of course you're not. This is just a taste of how you'd live if you were with me, my love."
"I will never live with you. I'd rather die."
Dick hums, then draws closer. You back up until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He prowls further, eyes sharp like he's hunting prey. Your pulse quickens and you have to remind yourself that this is just a dream.
"What happened to us?" he asks softly. "I know that, at one point, you loved me."
"Yeah, that was before you turned into a monster. I loved a man."
"I'm no more monster than any of the men you've known," Dick says.
You scoff. "God, where'd you get that one? Jason?"
Dick smiles, and it almost looks human. "No, that was a Grayson original. And it's true. Man has never been good. You don't like me because now I drink a little blood?"
"I don't like you because you used to be good, and now you're not."
He hums. "I'm not all bad, my love. I can be subdued, tamed. You want me to be tame? I can be good for you. I can give you anything your heart desires. Our wants are the same.”
Dick eases you backwards onto the bed. You shouldn’t let him. Shouldn’t like the cold press of undead flesh against your heat. Shouldn’t like how he holds you, how convincing he sounds. You know your wants aren’t the same, that Dick is playing you, and you’re being easy.
But… but it's not like you'll ever see him for real again. No one will know.
And God, it's been so long since anyone touched you. You pined for this, what seems like forever ago. Dick Grayson wanting you had felt impossible, until it wasn't… but by then, he'd become the very thing you'd sworn to hate.
"This–” You swallow. “This isn’t right.”
But your legs part for him to kneel between.
"Tell me to stop and I will. I serve you first."
Dick hovers over you, hands planted on either side of your head. You're getting wet. You ache in more ways than one.
"This is cruel," you whine.
"I don’t mean to be cruel,” he says gently. “Do you want me to stop, my love? My beautiful queen, who hasn’t been touched in so long. You’ve needed me, haven’t you?”
“Not–not your queen,” you say, panting, but you let him in, let him settle above you.
“If you say so, my love," he says, nuzzling your neck. You tense even though he can't actually bite you.
His fingers thread with yours. The position is unbearably intimate. You’d forgotten how romantic Dick was. How loving. Briefly, you wonder if he kept that through the shift.
It’s impossible, you insist as he kisses your jaw.
"You're a dream in red," he purrs. "I might prefer it to you in blue, but it's a close call."
"Your ego is ridiculous," you say, and Dick unlinks one hand to pet the apex of your thighs with two fingers. You're still clothed, and you're still dreaming, but the heat and pressure and slick feel so real.
"The sounds you're making certainly don’t keep my ego in check," Dick says with a proud grin, fangs on display.
Then he rips your underwear off, ducks between your legs, and licks you until you cry.
You arch off the bed, and even in the dream, his strength is easy, one hand keeping you pressed to the bed. Dick pushes one of your legs up to get a deeper angle, moaning into your cunt. Your leg goes up easily even though in real life, it would pinch. You’re not as flexible as he is.
"Dickie," you cry, tears slipping down your cheeks because it's so good, it feels real, you wish this was real, wish you had him back.
He nips your thighs, groans into your sex. Dick ruts the mattress, the first loss of control he's shown. It makes you wetter, knowing that he's so gone for you. It's sick to like such a thing, but you never stopped loving him, not really. You can't seem to reckon the man from the monster.
You come hard on his tongue, and he keeps licking until you push him away.
"You haven't been touched in ages, I bet," he says, lips shiny with your arousal. His eyes are a brighter red. His chest heaves. He looks hungrier than before he started.
"Been a bit busy,” you say when your brain comes back online. “End of humanity and all that."
His eyes go soft. You hate that he can still make that look.
"Why are you so stubborn? Why won't you let me take care of you? You belong at my side."
You scowl. "I don't belong anywhere, Dick. Certainly nowhere near you."
His eyes glitter and he grabs you by your hips and kisses you. You let him, because you're absolutely pathetic and because you haven't been touched in ages.
Dick laughs against your mouth and peppers kisses on your throat before pulling away.
"I'll send your team food. They won't even know it's me," he says, half-lidded. "My beloved queen. You'll never starve. I didn't know it was so bad."
"I am not your queen and I don't need your charity. In fact, you know what? I'm waking up. Right now."
Dick smiles, and kisses your hand. Then he gets off of the bed, and fixes his collar. He must be aching in his slacks, dream or not, but he straightens up like he has all the time in the world to fuck you. Like he knows you’ll be back.
"Of course, my love. Whatever you want. Till next time."
The dream fades from a golden bedroom to your dark, tiny hole of a room you've camped in for a few months.
You turn your head and look at the clock. It's still late.
Your thighs ache. Your mouth tingles where he kissed you.
You swore to never pledge yourself to the Vampire King. But you never made any such promises about Dick Grayson.
#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x female reader#vampire dick grayson#vampire richard grayson#dc vs vampires#nightwing x reader#nightwing x you#nightwing fanfiction#batman fanfiction
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bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers
warnings. none for this part. stay for steamy stuff in later parts ;) content. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush/enemies to lovers!/manager!reader/gn!reader for this part, could change?/passive-aggressive tsukki/daichi being a friend/suga being a friend/future smut/future sexual frustration notes. i'm branching out! first haikyuu fic! not done with mha but it just doesn't motivate me to write rn :( links. masterlist for mha. my ao3. PART TWO HERE. PART THREE HERE. PART FOUR HERE. FINAL PART HERE. haikyuu collection
You were walking back with a full case of freshly mixed sports drinks for the team when the whistle blew for a break. The entirety of Karasuno was on you at a moment's notice, rowdy despite their long practice.
A plethora of 'thank you's and appreciative mantras filled your heart as you were able to hand out bottles.
The first to swipe them were the first-years that sprinted up to you, trying to beat each other in their own intense, but good-natured race. Then the less excitable members, like your fellow seniors, that gave you slower and sincere thanks, shoulder pats, and tried to engage you in conversation.
Except, you had to make sure everyone got theirs. Which left the bane of your existence.
He sucked his teeth and looked away, disinterested in hydrating as soon as he realized you were handing them out.
"Tsukishima, come on," Suga heeded a subtle warning, but his mistake was turning away to speak to the others- and not following up to ensure the first-year did this simple task.
You weren't going to hold up a bottle for the kid all day. This was ridiculous and beneath you. Your arm slapped down to your side.
Everybody knew he had some issue with you. His disliking for you was nearly automatic upon being placed on the team, but it had somehow grew to a new intensity each day you had to interact.
Little instances like this one added up quick. And it didn't take long to notice, especially amongst your longest friends.
It boiled down to something about you being enough to piss him off, much like Hinata and Kageyama of his own class. For those two, it was relatively harmless bullshit. For you, the structure of the team hinged on him listening to you as his senior and manager.
"I really don't know what's gotten into him-- I-I'm so sorry," Yamaguchi spoke through gritted teeth.
He would've blabbed for much longer on his friend's behalf like usual, but he stopped short with a chill when he found your mirrored cool, upward stare.
"You don't need it anyway," You set his full bottle back into the case with a loud thump, "You haven't even sweat today."
It was a tad bit of an exaggeration, but his growing habit of letting certain spikes through had been prevalent enough to catch your attention. It bothered you because not only did he so quickly run out of steam -much sooner than the others who got the same court time as him-, but Coach didn't always notice his faults the same way you could.
You didn't try to look at him more than the others, truly. Your job hinged on being objective and you liked to think you did a great job at that. Lately though, it'd been tough not noticing every little shitty idiosyncrasy of his.
The way he hit the ball. The curve of his body into the net when he leaped into the air. The angle he liked to hit. The side he favored. The amount of steps he took before he jumped.
He wasn't as skilled as he let on. They could all use improvement, but his cockiness really ate at your patience. The others at the very least pretended to listen to you, and most took your criticism as a chance to improve. God forbid you comment on his faults, though.
The last time you did, his face had frozen with that ugly, twisted expression for the rest of the match.
Almost as soon as your accusation met his ears, that unbelievably fake calm demeanor crumbled into one serious mixture of aggravation.
His jaw tightened and he glanced around your stone-cold stare.
Bitter, he almost seemed to loom over you as he wiped his forehead with an oversized palm. His gaze remained unfaltering, ever so hateful, and he squeezed a closed fist in between you.
Sweat drip, drip, dripped onto the gym floor.
Head cocked, he opened his mouth to speak-- but Daichi slapped a mighty hand onto Tsukishima's upper arm. His forced grin -a welcome sight at this point- came into view.
"Thank you for volunteering to mop today, Tsukishima!"
Sometimes, when you had these types of exchanges, everyone else just sort of... fell away. Despite some polite cover-up conversations, most of the other players had a sensitive ear to his attitude problem with you. They were practically trained to listen to you speak-- this, compounded with Tsukishima's quiet demeanor, and the gym usually fell just short of completely still.
The blond's scowl elicited your covered laugh as you were pulled away. Suga warned you quietly to not get too caught up in talking to the first-years, but it was difficult to focus on his words.
"Thanks," Was punctuated with the sound of Coach's whistle- he gave you a sympathetic expression and ran off.
You didn't realize how worked up you got until they all returned to the court to finish their spiking drills. They formed up in a neat line, one after the other.
Clipboard gripped a bit tighter, you took a big breath in. Then, out. Your heart settled.
Nobody likes confrontation.
SLAM!
Not unless they're a masochist or something.
SLAM.
Why did he have to pick on you? And not some bigger fish that was actually on the team? Your heart squeezed from the burden of it all.
S L A M !
Tsukishima turned to move to the back of the line, but made sure to catch your eyes before you could even think to ignore him. His expression was indescribable but nothing short of trouble.
@ me to be added to the taglist for this fic series! i have at least 4 more parts i want to do that will be substantially longer
#takesone#haikyuu#haikyu x reader#haikyu fluff#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu tsukishima#haikyu tsukishima#tsukki#tsukki x reader#haikyuu tsukki#haikyuu angst#enemies to lovers#enemies with benefits#kei x reader#kei tsukishima#kei tsukishima x reader#x reader#reader insert#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq smut#hq angst#tsukishima x y/n#tsukishima x you#tsukishima x reader smut
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Well I just woke up terrible after being drunk last night.so since I expect reader to probably be a teen and what
do we teens do,we party and drink.what about reader before being kiddnapped show up to a hangout with a headache,they causally say it’s because they were drunk.Wukong and Macaque reactions
Drunk Teen Reactions:
Ol’ Sun Wukong is not stupid, kiddo. This simian picks up on your “shitfaced” status the moment he eyes you wobbling through the front door, lurched forward and clutching at your forehead.
He’s not stupid. But stupidly well can this old pilgrim can act the part.
“Hey, kiddo! Bump your head, huh?” He casually asks, eyeing the redness of your eyes, whiffing the vomit on your breath.
Already, something in him is stirring, a protective rumbling emanating from deep inside his chest.
(How dare your parents let you do this to yourself? How could they let you drink, let you leave the house in this condition?)
Sun Wukong spits out a chuckle and comes over to swing an arm over your shoulders, a motion that he forces to be casual when something inside starts to scream at him to take your neck between his hands and start throttling a home address out of your mouth.
Instead, he leads the way back to his cozy little couch and nudges you down, grabbing a thin blanket and wrapping it around you.
“Why don’t you sit here and let me get you a drink? Something tells me you need lots of water, bud!”
“Hmmm,” you mumble, stirring the sounds on your tongue like a cocktail. “Kay. M’really tired, Monkey King. Headache, y’know,” you lie, smiling weakly up at the blur of ginger fur.
“I know it, bud!” The king lies back, your falsehoods exchanging easily. ‘You’re a kid’, he reminds himself. ‘No need to get angry.’
“So, buddy, why’d ya wanna hang out today, if you weren’t feeling so hot?
“Just wanted to,” is your next lie, lazy and relaxed. The discontent it inspires in him motivates the crushing of a little white pill in his hand, then a subtle palm tip that spills grainy powder into your coming-up cup of water.
He circles the counter twice, giving you a moment to laugh at his “pointless” pacing.
Giving the pill particles a moment to dissolve.
Then he’s right beside you, one hand squeezing your shoulder as he nudged the glass rim to your lips.
“Here,” Wukong softly offers, tilting the cup.
Too drunken to sniff out the still-melting grains of white at the bottom, you eagerly down as much water as possible.
And a sudden surge of drowsiness hits you, knocking you clean off of feet that you aren’t even standing on.
Then a sharp swell of delayed nausea blooms in your stomach and ripples to the back of your throat, a few moments after Wukong scoops you up.
Shifting and shuffling about until he’s got you comfortably nestled to his chest, Wukong finally smiles, leaning in to nuzzle your cheek:
“C’mon, bud- I’m gonna take you home.”
“Hey, Uncle Mac? S’it getting, uh, I dunno… hot in here…? My head’s dripping sweat. N’ my hand are real clammy. And my ears hurt.”
Yeah, your ass is cooked.
Maybe if you were a little less talkative, a little more alert, a little less unsteady- you might have been able to fool the sable simian.
But Macaque doesn’t need any kind of mystical power to see through your bullshit.
“Uh-huh. Yeah, the room is too hot, too bright, too loud. And you’re the only one complaining about it,” he snaps, poking your stomach with a clawed finger.
“You think you’re fooling me? I’m not one of your idiot friends, Y/N! You aren’t gonna trick me with a half-baked lie, and I’m not-“
“M’gonna puke,” you whimper aloud, cutting the monkey off as he leaps from the couch and goes racing for a trash bin.
Macaque can act villainous all he’d like- and to be fair, he is a pretty awful and unrepentant person (why do the Monkie Kids let him stick around, you sometimes wonder) - but you turn him soft faster than sunlight melts shadows.
The Mystic Monkey rounds the corner with a little round bin, the metal shielded by a plastic bag that lines the rim.
Into your hands is the cylinder shoved, Macaque roughly slapping at your back in an awkward attempt to comfort you.
With an awfully unpleasant sound from the deepest confines of your throat, the contents of your stomach promptly upended into the sack.
No food. Just a puddle of sticky dark liquid.
“You have been drinking,” he hisses, now that you really have no ground to deny him. Really, you didn’t to begin with, but there was always plausible deniability to invoke.
“J-just a few. Tried something-“
Another splatter of rough and thick bile, stained brown with what he’s starting to think is rum.
He sighs and folds up his arms unhappily, tapping a glossy black boot against the floor. “Y/N. That stuff was way too strong for you, no matter what it was.”
“Mh-hm, I know. M’not gonna- eugh. M’not gonna do it again, promise.”
“No, you won’t,” he confirms, grabbing the scruff of your shirt and yanking it upwards. He’s strong enough to boost you free of the floor, stomping to a spare room. His tail snags the trash bin without trouble, hauling the soiled cylinder along with your prone and dangling form.
“In fact,” he tacks on, grimacing at the strong scent your breath carries, “you aren’t going to do anything. I’m grounding you for a week- and I’m taking your phone. tough luck, kiddo.”
He tosses you onto a bed that rises only a few inches off the ground, slinging a few blankets around your shaking form.
“Phone. Now.”
Fishing the little device from your pocket, you quickly it into the Macaque’s hand- he’s never been this stern with you before. Honestly? It kind of scares you.
A beep sounds, catching your attention- already, the ancient demon is initiating a call.
“Listen close- no, you don’t know me, no, Y/N isn’t hurt. They’re tired and sick -shut up and listen- they’re tired and sick and staying at my place tonight. I don’t care. They’re staying until this sickness passes. Don’t call back.”
(Realms above and below, it hurts to play the “no violence” card here, even though he was just saving it for later. What Macaque really wants to do is quietly follow you home and destroy every cubic ounce of alcohol inside. And then maybe grind your irresponsible parents against the floor after he’s coated it in glass shards.)
He hits the “end call” button with a little too much force, dangerously straining the phone’s screen. Thankfully, it leaves no cracks or scratches.
Macaque turns back to you with a frown, shaking his head- only to soften slight when the sight of your nauseated and quivering form fills his eyes.
“Don’t… don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes, Y/N. You can’t… ugh, fine. I’ll get you something to drink.”
He stomps off to the kitchen immediately, fighting back the urge to comfort you. Just water. And some crackers. And then he’ll let you stew in that little bed for a few hours with your filthy trash bin.
Maybe the wretched smell and lack of painkillers will teach you a lesson. Or it’ll leave you vulnerable and quaky, desperate for attention and affection.
Thinking on the possibilities, Macaque pulls the guest-room key from his pocket, twirling it around in one hand.
It was going to be nice, having you all to himself.
It was going to be even nice getting your parents out of the picture.
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Musing on Movie!Nessa's Future in Part 2
A lot of people simultaneously expressing confusion alongside their celebration of Nessarose finally being played by a wheelchair user, because her being able to walk in act 2 is obviously a huge plot point--the spell cast on the shoes is what turns them into the ruby slippers which establishes the continuity and leads to a bunch of other plot threads, etc etc.
This is obviously the reason a lot of people give for her being played by an able-bodied actress in the past, it's obviously a bullshit reason because a huge majority of wheelchair users are ambulatory and can walk and stand for varying periods of time just fine. So like. They could have still had an ambulatory wheelchair user playing her, but I digress: the point is she is played by Marissa Bode in the movie. A wheelchair user, hurray!
These are just the opinions of someone who is not a wheelchair user so take them with a grain of salt (and please speak up if you have your own stuff to say as a member of the community!) but from what I can see as someone who's been insane about Wicked for about 15 years now, the movie did a lot of good for Nessa's character. Previously, the ableism toward her was baked into the metanarrative itself, but it's now been moved to a more realistic place--the characters within the story.
Previously Nessa was treated with little agency or autonomy not only by the characters but by the people writing the story. Most notably of all, her chair is constantly being grabbed and wheeled around by other characters. The movie corrects this--she is very rarely wheeled around except by her father (and he is called out for his coddling/infantilizing of her by Elphaba within 2 minutes of their introduction) and the one time a stranger tries to do this in what reads even to me as a genuinely traumatizing and far too familiar scene for any wheelchair user to have to sit through, Elphaba immediately fucking goes apeshit and starts throwing fucking furniture. Nessa herself also tries to advocate for herself and tell the professor in question to stop kidnapping/assaulting her and is, again, realistically not listened to.
This last bit obviously happens in the stage musical too but Nessa's own agency is much less pronounced. The movie adds little things here and there to give her more of that agency--Elphaba's protectiveness is much less "I have to help and watch over my poor disabled sister" and much more "I have to make sure no one underestimates or takes advantage of her." Even the plot detail that Elphaba was not there to be her caretaker but just to drop her off and make sure she got settled in her dorm adds leaps and bounds to Nessa's autonomy. Her and Boq's shared look in the opening ceremonies where they both bond beforehand at their inability to see over the crowds' standing ovation. And of course, the dance scene, where he no longer wheels her out but instead beckons her to follow him!
These little details add up in ways that are, at least in my opinion, very meaningful. They also extend to the production itself--where the sets were made accessible for Marissa and she was even allowed to do her own stunts, in her wheelchair! That part in the beginning where Elphaba levitates her was her in a harness in her fucking chair and all. Dope as FUCK.
So I am mentioning all of this because I think the people working on this movie have shown that they are unafraid to make changes to Nessa to be more respectful to her agency. The ableism she faces, which is still plentiful, is framed as such instead of just casually brushed off & baked into the narrative. By making these small changes, Nessa is not just an unfortunate stereotype of a disabled woman, but a real and fleshed-out person who is dealing with the consequences of those exact stereotypes in the society she lives in. I really liked that! I don't know how others feel about it, but I thought it was very well-shifted.
All that said, 'curing' your disabled character is obviously, like, the biggest no-no of writing a disabled character. And that plot beat is a huge one in every version of Wicked... so far. But here's the thing. We have a shot of Dorothy wearing the slippers. And they... are silver.
Why. Are they silver.
And they are silver in all of Dorothy's small little cameos. Every single one. Even though this shot, which was used primarily for promotional material to draw people in like "Hey! Wizord of Oz! This is What The Refrance!" did not make the choice to even suggest that they should ever be red. One of the most important pieces of iconography, consciously and notably absent.
I genuinely don't think Nessa's going to have her disability taken away in part 2. With how much love to this part of her has been done to the retooling of her character, I do not think it is a stretch to assume that they will find a way to advance the plot without removing her disability. I believe this because that is the right thing to do for Nessa, to ascend her character, however you feel about it--she should stay in her chair. She deserves to continue on the way she is.
I realize this little change effects a lot. But after seeing part one, I am confident they can do it and do it well and replace what the change takes away with something just as good. I have so much faith in the direction of these movies. I really, truly believe it will happen and it will be good and satisfying and perfect.
It might still happen, sure--Marissa might get a stunt double, or CGI, or some other brand of movie magic. The shoes may still get enchanted and stay silver to pay homage to the original Oz books. But I can't help but consider that idea and keep asking myself... why. That makes so much less sense. Why not give movie audiences the red slippers, draw them in with the imagery, give them one more lion cub in the bike basket or Boq talking about how much he cries or poppies putting the whole class to sleep. Why not give us the ruby slippers when you... could.
I think because this is going to be a big, long awaited improvement. And I think it is hiding there in plain sight.
#wicked#wicked movie#wicked 2024#nessa thropp#nessarose thropp#wendy rambles#wordy wendy#and your little dog too#wendy meta
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27. 10. Pegging - Satan
༺☆༻
⟡ Masterlist ⟡
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽Helltober '24☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
༺☆༻
“This is some kind of bullshit.” the short demon looks up at you, as he's sitting at the foot of his bed, with annoyance in his voice.
“Nu-uh... There's witnesses, both to our bet as well as you losing majorly. Weren't you the one to make it a competition in the first place?” you turn away from him and start opening your newly arrived purchase.
The box is wrapped discreetly and extra carefully, which is nice, but just ripping into the wrapping paper is harder than it should. Tapping into Satan's power you end up ripping it out of frustration after almost breaking two of your nails.
“Just because you've won, doesn't meant I'm gonna make it easy for you.” the demon crosses his arms and turns his head to the side, avoiding looking at you altogether.
If you didn't know any better, you'd think that he's not into the idea of having his prostate bullied by you, but just by looking closer you can tell he's blushing. He may be good at hiding his true feelings, but the rosy tint to his face, only enhanced by his near-white complexion, gives away everything you need to know.
Finally, the strap and its corresponding attachment are out of the box. Just holding your new plastic cock, the wight is nice, heavy about as much as is it were real. There's even a prominent vein running along the underside. You're tempted to try it out on yourself, but not tonight.
When you turn back to Satan, he's still looking away, as if he's trying to ignore you.
His legs are slightly spread. Just enough for you to comfortably straddle him and bring his face back to look at you. There is a slight scowl, but you know it's all part of his act, so you try to soothe him by running your hands under his overall, “What are you so afraid of? I thought you liked pain... Either way, I'm gonna go easy on you...”
“It's not the pain. It's the position that I'm in. I'm a king for fucks sake. What would happen if others would find out the king of Gehenna takes it up his ass like a bitch in heat?”
“Well... You wouldn't be the only one. Pretty sure Beel and Levi don't mind getting some love up there either.” you look up at him innocently, trying to not blink from the intensity of the glow in his red eyes. Those things are sometimes like neons.
“A-are you trying to 'other-demons' me?” a mischievous grin finds its way back onto Satan's face.
“Is it working?”
Suddenly, you're thrown on the bed with the angry demon hovering over your form, “No.”
“Are you sure?” you can't help but taunt further.
“Stop pushing your luck with me.” he mutters into your ear as his head moves lower, to your neck, to bite into it as his hips start rocking into yours. There's a clear bulge forming each second and you know, he's just playing hard to get, so he can still pretend that he's in charge. But that's not for long now.
You let him nibble and suck on your neck only for a few more moments, to help get your own excitement going, but then you're leaping and flipping him over, straddling his hips.
“Ugh... Sneaky bitch.” he groans, but doesn't try to overpower you again.
“Don't forget why we're here in the first place.” you voice sings and you start to take off your top. He's not getting out of this that easy, but you might as well try to distract him for the time being. Once you're finally inside him, he won't be complaining anymore. Hopefully.
Reaching behind you to the other end of the bed, where you'd left the strap and your new dick, you happily show it off with a wide smile, “Look a this beauty. If I was in your position, I'd be dripping already.”
“Hah, don't tempt me or I'll double stuff you with that thing instead.” he's still trying to sound threatening, but the twitch of his cock underneath your hips tells you something different.
Satan probably hasn't realised it yet, but you'd picked out your strap-on to be the same as his.
“Hm~ I'd actually like that... Maybe if you're a good boy for me, I'd even let you triple stuff me.”
The demon underneath you howls at the thought and starts hastily taking off his boiler suit. The sudden switch in his energy makes you smile even wider.
Within seconds, the demon below you is fully naked, his chest already heaving up and down. You'd given him a choice if he wants to get on all his fours for you, or if he wants to be sprawled out underneath you. He chose the former, so now all that you can see of him is the perfectly sculpted ass. His thighs are slightly trembling, but that's surely only from the anticipation.
The clicks of you securing the dildo onto your strap makes him jolt a bit and his head tries to find the best angle to see your actions from his position.
You can't help but to pat his bare skin to reassure him, but it has the opposite effect, “Oi, stop treating me like some horse and get to it already!”
“Are you sure in a position to command me?” there's a dominant edge to you voice and you can't help but to land a few spanks, more harsher than the pats before.
“You just wait, I'll-I'll make you regret later...Haah~!” one last threat from him is interrupted by a loud whine. Your hands started to stroke his fully erect dick and circling his rim at the same time to help start loosening him.
The change in pitch of his moans and groans clues you to finally slip in one of your fingers covered in his precum. It only takes a few pumps in and out of him and he's already begging for another one and another one, until all four of your fingers are snugly exploring his ass.
“Aw, for someone who didn't want this, you're really eager, aren't you?” you coo, twisting your hand as it prepares the demon below you for the main attraction.
“Fu-Fuck! J-just fucking put it in already!” a growls amongst all his moans and whines as his hands nearly rip the sheets.
༺☆༻
Shhh... The prompt for tomorrow is Body worship ^^
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Give us some love headcanons of lucercia and Vincent please I beg
Please let them live on a farm in a cottage house or something plz plz plz plz plz plz plz plz
Lucrecia and Vincent run off together sometime during Lucrecia's pregnancy. Vincent spines his nerve and tells Lucrecia that she doesn't have to use the Jenova Project as a means of atoning for the death of his father. He doesn't blame her. He never did. They need to get out of here before she makes a mistake she CAN'T take back, one where he knows Hojo will get full control. She can't trust Hojo. But she CAN trust Vincent. And Vincent will do his best to make her happy. She just needs to take that leap.
They manage a clean escape out towards the country, Lucrecia heavy with child. They only reason why Shinra didn't fire at them was because Lucrecia used her own body as a hostage, Hojo ordering everyone to stand down out of fear of hurting his unborn son. But mark his words, he WILL come after them. And he will find them. Eventually.
Lucrecia and Vincent's life together is rather awkward. Vincent is clearly still very much in love with her, but she's conflicted about returning her feelings. There's still so much guilt. And he holds NOTHING against her, which makes it even worse. She...doesn't know what to do. Where to go.
Her water breaks and it is VINCENT who delivers the baby. Sephiroth is tiny and fragile, pale and shivering as Vincent gently places him in Lucrecia's arms. She stares down at the baby, torn between feelings of guilt and feelings of complete love and desperation. Vincent promises her that he'll help her look after the boy. And in time, he comes to love Sephiroth as if he were his own son.
Lucrecia and Vincent's life together is quiet, but tender. There's a lot of unspoken affection between them. Great sadness, yes. Lingering guilt. Patience. Understanding. Occasional tension. But they come to rely on each other as equals. Lucrecia does her best to make up for the past by way of being an attentive mother to Sephiroth. And while her relationship with Vincent will never be the passionate love affair it could have been, she can still call him her best friend, her closest companion. And at times, yes, her love.
They live in a secluded cottage. Sephiroth adores Vincent and is constantly copying him, happily enjoying a childhood full of love and support from his parents, wanting for nothing. He grows into a sweet-natured, if not occasionally mischievous young man who loves to read and wants to be an astrologist someday. When Vincent buys the boy a telescope for Christmas, Lucrecia finds herself overcome with such love and gratitude towards him that their relationship FINALLY becomes intimate after years of subdued companionship together.
Altogether, they make up a happy family living a normal life. There's a lot of love shared between the three of them. Lucrecia has not yet told Vincent but they might have to add an extra number to the mix very soon.
I assume Hojo will find them eventually. But by then, Sephiroth is already half-way grown and will NOT tolerate any destructive bullshit towards his family. Shinra gets to deal with that. Have fun!
#asks#ffvii#ff7#final fantasy 7#sephcanons#crisis core#sephiroth#AU#vincent valentine#lucrecia crescent#fluff#final fantasy vii#hojo#professor hojo
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Been working on this one for a while! :D
Reaction Ficlet: The Cave
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“Why are you pretending to be a madman?”
Ferris snorted.
Everyone abruptly turned to look at him.
“That’s such bullshit,” he muttered, in answer to their unspoken question. “He’s nyot faking this. Petelgeuse is full of shit.”
“…How can you be so certain?” Julius asked tentatively. In the corner of the room, Subaru flinched. Julius hastily moved to clarify: “I’m not taking the word of a Sin Archbishop over yours, Ferris,” he said. “And even if it had been the case that he was correct—“ His eyes flickered to Subaru, trying desperately to convey his intentions through his hunched back. “— I wouldn’t be able to fault Subaru for trying everything he could to get back to his loved ones after — that — even if the method DID end up being somewhat cowardly. …But what made you come to that conclusion?”
“Because,” Ferris said stonily. “If Subaru-kyun had wanted to fake something like this, he would have had to fool a woman with the ability to read people’s intentions —“ Crusch blinked. “— the psychopathic stalker who had been making careful nyote of his every movement for the past month —“ Rem flinched. “— and also me, the greatest healer in Lugunyica. Even one of those things would have been difficult, but all of them at once? Far better liars than Subaru wouldn’t have been capable of it.”
“Your madness is too lucid,” Petelgeuse was saying. “The crafty, deliberate way you seek sympathy and beg for love, it is quite rude to those who are actually insane.”
Wilhelm growled, looking very much as though he would like to leap through the screen and tear the Archbishop’s head clean off his shoulders for that comment.
Ram stared at the screen, a look of silent agony on her face as the horrifically tragic implications of those words sunk in to her being. Was he really that desperate for uncomplicated affection, that he might go this far to get it?
“He would’ve been desperate enough to try it,” Tivey said quietly. Nothing about his tone was accusatory: his eyes were full of sympathy. “I wouldn’t put it past anyone to give it a shot in a situation that dire, and sometimes people can surprise you.”
“Nya think I’ve nyever had to deal with a patient lying about being sicker than they were?” Ferris shot back, keeping his voice quiet even despite his clear agitation. “It is nyot difficult to tell true from false — and it DEFINYITLY would nyot be hard to do so if I were examinying him so closely, or if he had been attempting to falsely mimic something that complicated, OR if it were immediately following such an emotionyally traumatizing experience on his end, let alone all three at once.” Ferris leered at the screen, his tail lashing. “That Sin Archbishop is projecting. Subaru wasn’t faking anything.”
Tivey didn’t look convinced. “But—”
“Subaru,” Ferris interrupted, letting his tone rise to a normal level of loudness as he called out to the boy in the cage. Subaru flinched. “Were nyew faking it?”
Everyone in the room erupted into yells as his question met their ears.
“Oi!” Garfiel shouted, eyes widening. “What’re you asking here??”
“Indeed, I suppose!” Beatrice agreed, visibly enraged by the accusation.
“Over the line!” Ricardo roared, eyes widening.
“Why would you ask him that?!” Tivey cried, having kept even his own assertions at Subaru’s likely guilt quiet enough for the boy not to hear any of it.
“Ferris!” Wilhelm snapped.
“I…” Subaru stared back at him, eyes wide and guilty.
“Subaru, you don’t have to answer that,” Crusch said quickly. “I’m sorry my knight asked you something so insensitive. I’ll reprimand him for it later, please just — try to relax.”
If anything, this only made him look even guiltier, prompting him to break eye contact and stare at the bottom of his cage, hugging his knees. “I might’ve been,” he admitted. “I don’t remember much about— about that loop.”
Anastasia — one of the only ones to not have reacted to the healer’s outrageous proposal — hissed softly.
“And there nya have it!” Ferris said, voice dripping with false cheer. “Nya can’t fake something that elaborate on accident. This was all real.”
“It seems she has arrived,” Petelgeuse said, in his sing-song voice.
As if to answer him, another called out from the shadows:
“—I’ve found you.”
Rem leapt forward, morning star in hand, and the fight began.
“So she did find him, then,” Julius said softly.
“Maybe he’ll escape…?” Mimi asked hopefully.
“It won’t make a difference,” Ferris said dully. “He’s dead either way. We all knyow that much.”
“You are a band of fools to enter the domain of Master Roswaal, Lord of the Mathers Territory and commit illegal acts,” Rem was saying. “With my master absent, I, Rem, sentence you to death in his place.”
“As tattered as you appear? You should not make promises you cannot keep. To begin with…” Petelgeuse grabbed Subaru by the hair, mocking her with his manhandling of his limp body. “You have come only to take this young man away from here, so enough with your convenient excuses.”
“…ch him.”
“Eh? What was that?”
“I said, DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Rem roared, launching herself forward in earnest.
“Awfully bold of him to mock an oni with the object of her affection,” Ricardo muttered darkly.
“Please get him out of there,” Otto whimpered, staring at the oh-so-familiar cave in which his friend was trapped. “Please don’t — I know he’s going to die, but please don’t let him die THERE.”
“It is deeply regrettable,” Petelgeuse lamented. “A devotee of love to an extend such as thee… Why are your eyes firmly locked on one such as this? An effete, ignorant, disgraceful, shameless sight such as this… Truly the product of sloth!”
“What do you know about Subaru?!”
“Disgusting,” Ram growled. There was only one word for this display, after all. Take your eyes off my precious sister! she wanted to shout. But it would be useless and pathetic to shout at a memory, so she bit it back.
“Please tell me Natsuki-san didn’t internalize an insult from an Archbishop of Sin,” Otto muttered, already dreading the answer.
— Knowing what he did about the man’s self-esteem, the answer was undoubtedly “Yes.”
“He isn’t finished!” Rem shouted. “I am here. I have not forgotten Subaru’s words. I will take him by the hand and lead him away. So long as I am here, he is not finished!”
“I…” Wilhelm pressed his lips together. “…am not sure how to feel about this situation.”
“Don’t get between Subaru and me!”
“Neither am I,” Crusch muttered.
“I think it would be sweet,” Ferris said casually. “If she wasn’t also his murderer.”
Julius looked at him, concerned.
“Do not speak such words so cheaply!” Rem spat. “I already have my salvation! After that night when I should have lost it all, there is no greater than what I had that morning! That is why!”
“Ah,” Rem whispered in the present moment, having realized something important. Her eyes flitted towards Subaru, curled tightly into a ball as he sat in his cage. “So that’s how it is…”
Petelgeuse lavishes rambling praises over the oni girl as she fought. He cawed, and cried, and celebrated as she rushed forward desperately to save the boy chained to the wall—
For just one moment, she caught his eye. Time slowed down. Love filled her gaze, and she opened her mouth to call out.
—and then, all at once, her body collapsed in on itself.
Everyone in the audience fell dead silent, struck dumb with shock and horror at the image in front of them.
Rem’s eyes widened, a horrified choking noise escaping her throat.
“The Authority of Sloth,” Petelgeuse whispered dramatically. “Unseen Hands.”
Julius covered his mouth with his hand, pupils having shrunk to pinpoint dots.
“You are not permitted to run from this,” the Archbishop whispered. He extended his hand forward, guiding Subaru’s eyes. “Look. Go ahead, look. Look, please. This girl is dead. She died for love. She fought while injured, struggled against her fears as she stepped forward, and died with her desires unfulfilled. Look, please. Look at her burns. This is the result of your actions.”
Wilhelm roared, breaking the silence that had just a moment before taken over the room so thoroughly. “Don’t even suggest such a thing!” he howled, momentarily forgetting that he was watching a memory. “What a vile thing to say to a victim of your own sin!”
“It was by my hand!” Petelgeuse crowed. “It was by my fingers! It was by my flesh! But it was you, you, you, you, you, you who, who, who…killed her, yes!”
“Subaru,” Otto said desperately, turning around to face the recipient of those horrible words. “Subaru, please tell me you didn’t listen to that!”
The present Subaru was shaking, having tucked himself away so thoroughly that even his ears were no longer visible.
High above them, Rem’s body danced like a puppet on strings. There was a horrible tearing sound as her muscles ripped. “Owww,” Petelgeuse mocked in a high-pitched voice. “Ow it hurts, it huurts, the pain, the paain, save me, saave me…ah, Subaru?”
“He’s dead now!” Julius suddenly shouted, eyes fixed desperately on Subaru’s shaking body. “Subaru, he’s dead! You killed him! You took care of it, he’s gone!”
“That’s enough!” Anastasia’s yell wasn’t aimed at Petelgeuse, or the other audience members, or Subaru in his cage. “That’s enough! We get it, we understand! Now stop it, let him go — you’re hurting him!”
“Subaru!” Beatrice cried, banging her fists against the glass. “Subaru!”
Inside the cage, Subaru was having what looked like a seizure. He was shaking violently all over, his mouth was starting to foam slightly, his fingernails were digging long, bloody trenches in his arms — and he wasn’t responding to anyone’s screams as they desperately attempted to snap him out of it, his eyes glazed and his mind trapped somewhere dark and cold and full of the cruel laughter of a violent madman.
Ram felt as though she was ready to pass out. Her little sister’s mutilation and desecration, her little brother’s cruel memories, the fact that she had been nowhere near EITHER OF THEM—
“N-Nee-sama?”
Ram jerked.
Her dear little sister was staring at her, alive and well, eyes full of worry. Ram croaked something intelligible, and then jumped forward to hug her tight and bury her face in her shoulder.
The Subaru onscreen had no such luxury.
“PEETEELGEEEUUUSE!” he screamed, lunging forward to bite the Archbishop’s throat. The madman jumped back, evading his attack and letting him smash his head into the rock floor — laughing at the sight. “I’ll kill you, I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU! DIE! DIE! DIE, DAMN IT—”
Even knowing good and well that such a promise had long since come to fruition, Wilhelm roared in agreement. That show of pure, unbridled rage was at once comforting and agonizing in its familiarity: comforting in that it was something the old man could understand, and agonizing in that he understood too well just how much it hurt.
—Maybe if Subaru heard his show of support, it would soothe him out of that frightened, miserable state, seizing and whimpering on the floor of his cage.
The Subaru onscreen raged and screamed and cried, but Petelgeuse merely turned away from him, as though he was hardly there at all. They would continue with the plan, he announced. Regardless of this setback, they would go forth.
He turned to the wailing, enraged, frenzied boy only at the end of his little ceremony, nothing but mild interest in his eyes for the victim of his awful crime. “If you accept the Gospel into your heart,” the Archbishop declared as he left. “Then I know you shall be saved.”
Wilhelm slammed his fist into the armrest of his seat. It splintered under the force of the blow.
—Or he would have left, except that he stopped to admire his second victim before he was gone.
“You, too, are a devotee of love,” he praised. Her lifeless body dropped to the ground with a clattering sound. “You died for love, defying your destiny with all your might. However, you lie ruined and unfulfilled, having lost the object of your love, unable to fulfill your desire with emptiness hovering all around you…because you were slothful!”
And then Subaru was alone, with nothing but the dead body of a dear friend to keep him company in the dark.
“What an awful way to treat the dead,” Crusch muttered, disgust in her eyes. Disgust for this barbarity, for this senseless violence, for this injustice disguised shoddily as the hand of fate — the Soldier King Candidate condemned it all from the bottom of her heart.
The sight of Subaru being chained and left to die in that cave made Otto want to be sick. In another life, that…
That…
“So he starves this time, then?” Ferris asked tonelessly.
Otto didn’t know how to answer that. Everyone knew what was going to answer next, after all. There was only one way this could end.
“Kill you…kill you…kill you…”
He was going to be sick.
Subaru was thumping his head into the rock, exhausted and bloodied and bruises from his efforts, and all for naught: he was still trapped and sealed in his fate. And the worst part was that he didn’t even care. “Kill you…” he whispered, eyes unfocused and blurred with rage. “Kill you…I’ll kill you…”
Wilhelm stared, a very uncomfortable feeling settling in his gut.
…Perhaps he would have felt less uncomfortable, if the present Subaru was not shivering and softly crying out in his cage. If he had been able to look upon this moment with righteous vindication. If, today, he had been fully satiated with how things turned out.
But there was something that had been lost forever in that dark place, wasn’t there?
— Had Wilhelm, too, lost something of himself that was truly irreplaceable, in that dark moment when news of his wife first reached his ears?
Julius stared at this horrible scene and thought back to the moment where Subaru had entrusted him with the death of what had been his greatest enemy. A sense of guilt settled strangely in his stomach. Had he stolen Subaru’s chance at closure, back then? What right had he to steal a moment so important?
It was your rightful duty, his mind whispered. Subaru asked you to save him and his loved ones, and that is what you did.
— The vain hope slipped through Julius’ mind, then, that the boy’s nightmares of today ended with him stepping in to whisk him to safety, once and for all.
“…Why wasn’t I there…?” Reinhard whispered.
“Petelgeuse!” Subaru cried, overwhelmed with hate and rage and grief, in a cave where nobody could hear him scream. “Petelgeuse! Petelgeuse! Petelgeuse!”
Otto would have died in that cave, once upon a time. Perhaps he had, even. Had this Subaru just taken his place?
Ram gripped her sister tight.
Garfiel gripped his own knees, wanting nothing more than to launch himself forward and free his friend from that disgusting place. But this was a memory, and he could do nothing but watch.
Beatrice wasn’t even watching anymore, too busy calling out to the seizing boy who couldn’t give her a response.
And Emilia—
There was a noise. A subtle movement. Subaru raised his head to look, his eyes fixing on a truly gruesome, miraculous, horrific sight.
“No fucking way,” Garfiel gasped.
“Rem,” Subaru whimpered. Then, louder. “Rem, REM—”
He broke off, using his teeth to grab the collar of her shirt and drag her the rest of the way forward. For somehow, Rem had survived her brutal treatment at the hands of the Sin Archbishop — and even with all her limbs mangled and broken like those of a doll, had managed to crawl towards him in the dark of the cave.
“Oni strength is nothing to sneeze at,” Wilhelm muttered to himself.
Julius could only stare in awestruck, speechless horror.
Rem coughed out blood, spilling all over the manacles.
“Rem—!” Subaru whimpered, but Rem was too focused.
Too focused on — something — to respond.
“Hu…” she whispered. “…ma…”
At once, the blood that Rem had coughed up froze within the manacles. At once, the manacles broke apart, bursting from the inside.
Ricardo whistled lowly. “Smart,” he commented.
“Rem…wait,” Subaru begged. “Rem, wait, do…”
“Live…” Rem whispered. “I…lo…”
And then she was dead in his arms.
Ferris exhaled slowly through his teeth.
The wails of grief echoed from the metia and throughout the theater: long, high-pitched, punctuated by heaving gulps for air, and utterly heartbreaking.
Slowly, as she listened to someone mourn this loss so completely in her stead, Ram began to loosen her hold over her beloved sister. Slowly, she sat up again.
Rem squeezed her hands comfortingly. Ram took a deep breath, and then let go.
The sun was bright as the pair exited the cave. One of them was walking. The other rested limp in her arms, never to wake up again — not in this life.
Subaru smiled, eyes dull and faded. “Let’s go, Rem.”
Ram swallowed.
Eventually, somehow, the boy arrived back at the Mathers Estate. He was too late. The village had already burned to a crisp.
Snow had started to fall.
“Petelgeuse…” Subaru hissed.
“The snow…” Otto faltered.
Subaru had frozen to death in that last loop, they all remembered that. But Roswaal had been gone, so he couldn’t have caused it — and none of the Witch Cult had any sort of fire magic that could do the same.
So who — or what — had been responsible for it?
There were bodies. Old man, young woman, the man who gave him a sword, the lady who had flirted with him that first day — none had been spared. Each body found was more gruesome than the last.
“Petelgeuse…” Subaru snarled.
If Subaru were to lose sight of his rage, he would lose his mind. This was a situation that Wilhelm knew intimately — but he had never seen it from quite this angle before, and he was slowly realizing just how badly it unsettled him.
That rage, that anguish, that loss… Far from being embridled with righteous fury on the boy’s behalf, Wilhelm found himself wishing more than anything for Subaru to never have experienced any of it.
This was nothing but pain. There was no honor here.
Ram was dead, in front of the shed that everyone knew held the corpses of the village children. The bodies of no less than five Witch Cultists surrounded her. She hadn’t gone down without a fight.
Subaru fell to his knees in front of the manner proper, the snow picking up in a proper storm. His voice rose above it in a wail. “PETELGEUSE!”
The roof of the manor cracked, and broke, and the large head of a monster burst out of it all at once.
Julius’ eyes widened. “That—”
“But we all knyew that was coming,” Ferris muttered.
“SLEEP.”
—said the Beast of the End.
“ALONG WITH MY DAUGHTER.”
Subaru’s body had frozen solid. A gust of wind blew his head off his shoulders, and — finally — this loop of nightmares came to a close.
Emilia stared at the screen, uncomprehending. She had not said a single word since Petelgeuse had first shown himself in the cave. Her face was blank, her eyes glazed and dull.
Ram sat next to her, wordlessly placing her hand over that of her dear friend. Emilia twitched slightly, and then — gingerly — took her up on the offer, squeezing once. Neither woman said a word, wrapped in their own little bubble of silence.
On the other side of the room, Beatrice was sobbing, desperately trying to call out to her contractor curled up tight in his cage. More people were joining her, unable to bear the sight of Subaru melting down for even a moment longer. Ricardo was trying to tease him (“Kinda embarrasin’ ta see yerself cryin’ like a baby, right? Don’t worry, we won’t tell Emilia—”). Julius was trying to talk him up (“Subaru, it’s over, remember? He’s gone. He’s dead. You won, and everyone got out safe!”). Garfiel was trying to break the glass (“WHY. WON’T. THIS. BREAK—”)
But then, in the midst of everything—
“Subaru-kun.”
Everyone’s heads whipped around at the sound of a name being called.
Rem was smiling gently, standing by the far side of the glass cage. How had none of them noticed her getting close. “Subaru-kun,” she called out, with the exact same inflection she had watched the version of herself on the screen voice time and again. “Subaru-kun.”
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Garfiel growled. “What are you doing?! Get away from him, you psychopath!”
“Leave him be, I suppose!” Beatrice snapped, still pressed against the glass herself. “You are the last person who should ever be allowed near him again, in fact!”
“Using a nickname like that — after everything you’ve done?” Wilhelm stood up, ready to pull her away by force. “Will you never be satisfied?” he hissed. “What more will you do to that boy?”
“That’s not fair!” It was Otto who objected, leaping forward to shield the woman from the other audience members. “Rem saved his life,” he snapped, still shaking from head to toe. “She did the best she could. If you want to blame anyone for that cruelty, then blame the Archbishop that — that forced the two of them into such a horrible situation!”
“She may have helped him once, but that doesn’t matter right now!” Julius said, striding forward with the intent to remove her by any means necessary. “Subaru shouldn’t be anywhere near her and all of you know that. Rem, I must insist that you back away!”
More voices joined the fray, each louder than the last as each one — in their confusion and terror and anguish — tried to do what they thought was right. But before a fight could well and truly break out—
“Rem…?”
Everyone froze.
Subaru was uncurling slightly. His gaze was shaky, unfocused, as if nothing else in the world existed, but then it darted over to the source of that nickname that had called out to him again and again and seemed to bring exactly one thing into focus.
Just this once, Rem told herself.
The Oni girl pulled away from the others easily, slowly kneeling on the other side of the glass. “Subaru-kun,” she called out again, in that same light, warm, cheerful voice she had not invoked even once since she had awoken in that horrible theater. “Everything’s alright now, Subaru-kun. I’m right here.”
“Rem,” he said hoarsely, as if nothing else in the world made a lick of sense, crawling forward on his hands and knees like a dog. “Rem.”
Rem didn’t move. “Yes.”
Two hands, and then a forehead pressing against the glass. Subaru’s eyes widened again in distress, a keening noise escaping him as he realized once again that he could not get out — not even to reach his — his —
“R-Rem!” he cried.
“I’m here,” Rem murmured, resting her hands against the clear surface, palm-to-palm, as if she were reaching out to hold his hands. Her forehead followed, bumping gently against the spot where Subaru’s was pressing hard enough to bruise. Soft blue eyes met a set of brown on the verge of madness, and crinkled gently at the sight. “Your Rem is right here, alright?”
Subaru couldn’t reach her. Rem couldn’t hug him. But she was there, and she was smiling gently at him from the other side of the glass, and that was enough. Tears welled up in his eyes and he finally started to cry.
“…I can’t even make fun of him for this,” Ferris said quietly, watching the exchange. “This is just—” He cut himself off.
Rem, his murderer. Rem, his torturer. Rem, his savior. Rem, the girl who loves him more than anything in the world. Rem, who died in his arms with a smile on her face. Rem, the one he cries out for in his darkest moments. Rem, his very best friend.
“…Disgusting,” Wilhelm muttered.
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Sy's Therapy Barn
Summary: Austin Syverson is newly retired from the Army and struggling to cope with his PTSD. Until he decides to take a chance on a hobby, most wouldn't think could help, and the person there to help teach him how to do it.
Pairing: Syverson/Reader
Word Count: 5k
Rating: M - Quick-Burn, Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Combat Fatigue, Trauma, Wine drinking, Flirting, Support System, Movie Quotes, Leap of Faith, Mentions (but no depictions) of Mental Illness, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, SMUT - Light, P in V
Inspiration: I saw this Instagram video of a handsome, buff gentleman that ran a pottery business and promoted it on the site.
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I am so sorry to any Pottery people for butchering it.
Syverson wouldn't lie, even though he had thought the hobby was stupid, the first time he thought about it. But, upon seeing a poster at an outdoor market he had decided to attend one, warm Dallas weekend, to get out of the house. Something inside of Sy had urged him to save the number in his phone, before finding the ale stand.
It wasn't until almost a month later, after waking up in the dead of night. He laid curled up in a ball, hugging his knees and struggling to breath. With the blankets and pillows thrown off the king-sized bed, and the black fitted sheet beneath him drenched in his sweat. Aika pressed against his back and whimpering at her owner's distress. It was then that Sy knew he needed something more, other than just denial, the gun range and booze to deal with his PTSD and Combat Fatigue.
He wasn't about to go sit down on some squeaky metal, folding chair, in the basement of some random religious church, listening to other Vets talk about their combat experience. Everyone nodding their heads and offering sympathy and the Word of God. Sy had stopped believing in God over a decade ago. Because, how could some magical man in the sky, with some grand plan for you, before and after you died, allow such bullshit evil into the world.
He didn't want sympathy, far from it.
Austin Syverson, also didn't do sympathy.
So, he pulled up the number from the outdoor market and gave the business a call.
“Mini's Pottery Haven, how can I help you?” A cheery voice chimed on the other end.
Sy let out a hard breath. “Hi, I saw your poster at a market, a couple weeks ago, for a pottery class.” He said, rubbing a palm over his buzzed head, feeling stupid for calling a pottery business, thinking it would help him, in any way, with his trauma. “I was wondering, if you're still doing classes?”
“Yes, we are!” She confirmed, happily. “We have one tonight, with two spots left, if you'd like to join it.”
“Oh!” Sy started, surprised, not expecting one so soon, hoping for a day to work up the nerve to call her back and cancel. “How much is it?”
“Thirty dollars, for just one person, and sixty dollars for a couple.” She informed him, pressing her phone to her ear and bringing up the planner on her computer. “You can pay when you arrive at the class.” She added, distractedly.
Sy paced his kitchen for a moment, before pausing and straightening his back. “I'll take one of the spots and pay the thirty, when I arrive.”
“Excellent! Can I have your name, please?”
“Syverson.” He answered, out of pure habit.
“All right, we look forward to seeing you tonight, and what you create!” She told him, her voice upbeat and optimistic, like she expected Sy to be the next Michelangelo, before hanging up.
“The boys would lose their shit, if they ever find out I tried pottery.” Sy said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.
Later that night, Sy found himself standing out front of the humble, little pottery shop, the full window front was bright from the lights inside, which was flowing with people, all standing around chatting with each other and holding glasses of wine.
“At least, they have booze.” Sy commented to himself.
“First time?” A soft voice asked, from behind him.
“Huh?” He frowned, turning around to find a gorgeous woman standing behind him, a large bag slung over her shoulder, as she regarded him with a kind expression. “Oh, yeah. You?” He asked, trying to be polite.
“Naw, I've been getting my hands messy with clay for years.” You smiled at him, patting your bag. “I assume you're here for the class.” You asked, motioning towards the shop.
“I am.” Sy nodded, licking his lips. “Just working up the nerve to go inside.” He explained to you.
“Ah, yeah. We pottery nerds can be dangerous.” You teased, smirking up at him. “You make one reference to Ghost in there and they'll turn you into a clay mold. If not, pelt you out of the shop with lumps of it.” You giggled, moving by him to step up onto the curb and grab the door handle.
A laugh rumbled out of Sy's broad chest, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I'll make sure to keep the Ghost quotes to myself then.” He said, turning his sparkling blue eyes towards you.
“Well, no time like the present.” You told him, pulling the door open and holding it for him.
“That's true.” He nodded, his smile softly fading as he joined you on the sidewalk, stopping beside you for a moment. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He said, giving you a gentle nod, before going inside.
The place was a buzz with voices as he paused by the counter, taking out his wallet to pay for his admission for the night's class. He glanced over his shoulder to see where you'd gone, but you had vanished somewhere into the crowd. Shrugging, figuring you'd paid in advance or had some sort of membership, he handed over his bank card to Mini, the owner of the business, who was a sweet looking, elderly woman, dressed in a loose and colorful, bohemian strap dress. Taking his card and the Hello, My Name Is: sticker she handed back with it, Sy turned away, spotting the small wine station, also surrounded by numerous black sharpies. He headed over, scribbling Sy, on his sticker and poured himself a glass of some kind of red wine, before finding somewhere quiet to stand, to wait for the class to start.
As he stood there, sipping his wine and looking at a wall of finished clay figurines, cups and other knick knacks, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways, figuring you were checking him out, which he was more than fine with. But he discovered it was another woman giving him eye-candy. She was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and in a hot-pink tracksuit, she felt out of place for a pottery shop. Though, Sy knew he shouldn't be one to speak, standing there in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, that had been to war with him, tight blue jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, with a black stetson cowboy hat.
The way she lifted her wine glass, however, suggested she wanted to jump his bones.
Which only amused the retired Army Captain.
“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Mini called, clapping her hands together and coming around the counter to regard her customers. “If we can all head towards the other end of the shop, where all the potter's wheels and everything are. We can start the class.” She smiled, motioning everyone to the back.
Everyone moved to the back in a messy, single-file line, still sipping the rest of their wine and chatting with each other. The woman in the pink tracksuit lagging back to walk with Sy, fluttering her lashes at him.
“Ma'am.” He acknowledged her, touching the brim of his hat, but didn't give her much else.
“What's a man like you doing in a pottery class?” She asked, biting the corner of her lip.
Sy licked his lips. “I got nothing better to do.” He said, not willing to admit the real reason he was there to her.
“I'm sure a big, strong, handsome man like you could find something to do.” She insinuated, fluttering her lashes at him.
“Pottery is just fine, thanks.” Sy replied, offering her a weak smile.
“Everyone, please find a pottery wheel and it doesn't matter which one.” Mini said, motioning to the dozen or so pottery wheels in a circle, a round lump of clay already waiting on them to be shaped.
Sy waited until almost everyone was seated, not wanting to take the chance of getting stuck sitting next to the woman hitting on him, far from that mood tonight. So, taking up a pottery wheel and grabbing the provided apron, he took off his hat and set it on a shelf behind his wheel, and slipped on the apron. Sy chuckled, sitting down on the comically small stool before the wheel, as he balanced his large, muscular body on it, smirking up at the rest of the group; seeing some of them sit on the stool like they'd done it a million times and others wobble.
“The first thing we're going to do, before we start shaping our clay,” Mini began explaining, sitting at wheel herself, apron on and perched on her stool, like the forty-plus year pottery maker she was. “is to assign our first timers, helpers. I will be giving instructions and so forth, but your helper will be there for you, just in case you need a refresher or get frustrated.” She told the group, looking around at everyone. “But just remember, just like us, human beings, we are all unique and beautiful. It doesn't matter how many times your clay refuses to shape into what your mind's eye thinks it should, or tears apart, or even if it doesn't bake right in the kiln. It is still beautiful! You still brought it into this world with your own two hands, and you should be proud of that. Because it's something no one else in this room did.”
Sy blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her statement. So used to Army instructors drilling into him about, if it's not perfect, you're dead or your buddy next to you, is.
“So, helpers, I'll let you pick your person. You've all worked here before, so you know how to identify them.”
“And how do you do that?” Someone blurted out, making Mini and the helpers chuckle.
“Well, that's one way for us to find you.” One of the helpers quipped in an Australian accent, moving across the room to said person. “But, it's the name tags, mate, or Ryan, I should say.” He smirked, offering out his hand to the newcomer. “I'm Joel.”
“Those of us here that don't have a name tag, are old pros.” Mini smiled, resting her forearms on the edge of her potter's wheel, while the rest of the helpers spread out.
“Good to see you made it all the way into the building.”
Sy looked over his shoulder and grinned up at you. “Yeah, I had a little bit of help.” He replied, glad, and a bit surprised, to see you were one of the helpers.
“Well, you're about to get some more help.” You said, glancing at his name tag. “Sy.”
He felt a lump lodge in his throat as you said his name. “That's great.” He rasped back. “I'm going to need it. These hands have only known how to do one thing, for the last twenty years.” He told you, holding up his calloused mitts.
“Oh, you got good hands for clay shaping.” You said, taking one of them in both of yours. “I'm sure we can teach these pups a new trick or two.”
“Can you teach this ol' pup any?” Sy asked, smiling at you.
“I might.” You nodded, pulling a stool up beside him. “Let's listen to Mini first, then we can find out what you want to make that clay into.” You told him, giving him an encouraging smile, that cracked open the door to a place he had tried to keep shut.
“Everyone have their partner?” Mini asked, looking around, then nodded. “Good! Now, you're going to learn your proper posture for molding.” She began, leaning forward and started her instruction for the next several minutes.
“Christ, I don't know if I can remember all that.” Sy said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head at his mound of clay. “I'm just a simple country boy, fresh out of the Army.”
You giggled beside him, lightly patting him on the back. “That's why you got me.” You reminded him, sweetly. “Now, what do you want to make? And, I swear if you say a dildo, I will get up and leave.” You warned him, seriously.
“Have people actually asked you that?” He frowned, cocking his head at you.
“Yes, more often than you might think.” You huffed, shaking your head. “I'll make anything else though.”
“To be honest with you,” Sy started, frowning down at the clay and shaking his head. “I don't know what to make. I've never been the artistic type. I always failed art class back in school.”
“Well, that's the wonder of art, and clay for that matter, Sy.” You told him, softly. “You can make whatever you want. You don't need to be artsy for it. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Anything at all.”
“My dog.” He blurted out, biting his lip, feeling silly for it.
“All right, what about a dog bowl?” You suggested, tossing out the first dog related thing that came to your mind.
“Could we make a bowl?” Sy asked, looking over at you.
“Absolutely!” You nodded, grinning. “If you wanna make a bowl for your doggo, then we'll make one. I'll use all ten years of my clay making experience to help.”
“All right, a bowl for Aika, it is.” Sy nodded back, inspired.
“That's a sweet name.” You commented, watching Sy position himself, much as Mini instructed, then drizzle a little bit of water onto the clay and cup it in his large hands, almost hiding it completely in his palms as he started to work the wheel with his foot. “Good, that's a great speed. Keep it up. Little less pressure though.” You reminded him, watching the clay start to pancake a bit.
“Sorry.” He apologized, letting off on it.
“You're all right.” You answered, shaking your head. “So, what made you try out pottery?” You asked, reaching out, instinctively, to add a little more water.
Sy was quiet for a long moment, playing with and shaping his clay, watching the thick residue from it cover his fingers and palms. While trying to find a way to answer. He could give you the same answer he'd given the pink tracksuit lady or he could be honest. Spying you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you weren't waiting for a reply, not being pushy or intrusive. You had simply asked him the question and given him the space to answer it, when and if he wanted to with no hard feelings.
It was a breath of fresh air to him, just like feeling the wet clay in his hands. Knowing he was creating something, not harming it.
“I was hoping it would help me,” He finally answered you, licking his lips, deciding to be honest. “With my combat PTSD.” He added softer, waiting for your reaction.
“It can be quite calming.” You admitted, no ill reaction on your face. “It can also be rather frustrating.” You chuckled, with a smirk. “I about tossed the piece I was working on this morning, when one of the sides collapsed on me. I'd only been working on it for six hours.”
“Six hours!” Sy exclaimed, sitting back to look at you more steadily.
“You suffer for the art sometimes.” You told him, with amusement at his expression. “But, it's well worth it in the end. Most of the time, at least.”
“Christ, I hope this doesn't take that long.” He said, looking down at the weirdly shaped, almost oblong bit of clay on his wheel.
You looked around the room, before leaning close to Sy. “I think you're wonderful, Oda Mae.” You whispered into his ear, so none of your friends could hear you, knowing the complaints they'd give you for the reference after the class.
A huge smile crossed Sy's face and he howled with laughter, catching everyone's attention.
“I crack a good joke, we all know it!” You told them, grinning with guilt.
“I like you.” Sy said, once everyone's attention went back to their own station. “You're the first person that's made me laugh, like that, since I came home on retirement from the Army. A year ago.”
“Oh yeah?” You grinned, feeling a hot rush through your body that wasn't the glass of wine you had earlier. “Well, if you think I can crack a good joke, you'll see how good of a pottery teacher I am.”
“You take any students?” Sy blurted out, before he knew what he was thinking.
You floundered, mouth hanging open. “Um, no.” You admitted, shocked he'd asked, then saw the light start to fade in his blue eyes. “But I could consider it.” You said, quickly. “Especially if it helps you cope with your PTSD.”
“I think it just might.” He proclaimed, finding himself smitten with both pottery and you.
You laughed, throwing up your arm as Sy flicked the wet clay on his fingers at you. “Austin!” You tried to duck the mucky droplets as they splattered all over your apron, the side of your arm, face and hair, still giggling.
“You were looking a bit dry over there!” He guffawed, grinning at you. “What the heck, are you shapin', anyhow?” He asked, balancing himself back on his stool and eyeing your kaolin clay, seeing the strange, cup-like shape you had going.
“I don't really know.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders at the grayish-yellow clay before you. “I'm just trying to understand it, and make something. That will hopefully not crack in the kiln. If I ever get around to firing it.” You told him, leaning forward again, feeling the soreness in your lower spine and forearms from working in that position for so long. “What about you?” You asked, cocking a brow at Sy, without looking away from what you were starting to consider your Frankenstein.
“Another ceramic grenade cup.” You smirked, curving your thumb into the center of the clay. “Or, what was that tea pot you made?” You asked, giggling as you recalled pulling the craft out of the kiln.
“I don't want to talk about it.” Sy replied, sounding disgruntled.
You laughed, nodding your head. “That's right, it was supposed to be a turt—Austin!” You shrieked, as his big, wet clay covered mitt swiped across your face. “Oh my god!”
“It was nothing, woman.” He huffed at you, with mischievous eyes, as he sat back down. “But I do have a question for you, babe.”
“Oh?” You replied, standing up to wipe the streak off your face before it dried.
“I was thinking,” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he continued to work his clay. “I still have a large chunk of my retirement payment from the Army, just sitting in my bank account.” He said, scowling as one side of the clay started to collapse.
“All right.” You nodded, staring down at him, as you stood between your two pottery wheels in the garage of Sy's house, situated on the ten acres he owned.
“I've been considering,” He licked his lips and sat back, to look up at you, wanting to see your face when he said aloud what had been on his mind for the last year and a half. “I want to open up my own shop.”
You blinked at him a couple times, processing his words. “Your own pottery shop?” You asked for clarification.
“Yeah, I want to open a pottery barn, to help Vets, like myself. Hell, to help anyone with PTSD or trauma. It helped me through so many nights of episodes and flashbacks.” He explained to you, babbling out the idea that had been swirling around him, and looked back up. “You helped me.” He whispered quietly, before shaking his head and squeezing the clay on his wheel.
“It's a stupid idea.”
Watching him destroy the piece he'd just spent the last hour and a half working on, stung you, but it hurt you more to hear him say his idea was stupid. You thought it was incredible. That it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to want to share a hobby that had given him so much in the last two years.
You were flattered to be a part of that journey with him, as well.
Your big bear.
“I think it's a terribly-” You sat down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “good idea, Austin Syverson.” You declared, kissing him lovingly. “And if I hear anyone say otherwise, I'll pelt them with wet clay, until they think it is.”
A bright smile pulled across Sy's face as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “So, you'll come be my first employee?” He asked, nosing the side of your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the earthy scents of pottery, tinged with a light sheen of sweat from how warm it was in the garage.
“Oh, I'm going to work for you, am I?” You cooed, amused. “What position, do I get?”
“Hmm.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your skin. “How about the head of pottery?”
“What's your job going to be?” You asked, eyes fluttering shut.
“I'm the boss.” He chuckled, tugging on your ear. “I'll have a bunch of jobs. But there's no one I trust more than you, with all your infinite wisdom of pottery, to run that area.” He told you, his hands pushing under your tank top. “I do only have two years of experience, compared to your thirteen.”
“Oh, laying it on thicker than a glaze, Captain.” You purred, feeling his fingers leave trails of drying clay on the skin of your back. “But I do like the sound of it. Do I get to boss you around during classes?” You asked, cupping the back of his head in your palm and rubbing the short hair there with your thumb, while your other hand dripped to the strings of his camouflage apron.
Sy smirked, giving your neck a sharp bite and making you gasp. “You boss me around already.”
“I do not!” You huffed, with an amused flash in your eyes, pushing his head back to look up at you.
“Whatever you say, my darling.” He replied, blue eyes sparkling.
“That's what I thought.” You smirked, kissing the bridge of his nose.
Pulling his hands from your tank top and gripping you by the hips, Sy pushed you up and pulled your legs across his lap, so you straddled him. You moaned at the straining bulge in his black sweatpants, pressing down against it through your short-shorts, sucking lightly on your bottom lip.
“What are we calling your little pottery business?” You hummed, reaching between your bodies to slip into the waistband of his sweats, finding his thick manhood and gliding your hand along it, drawing out a shivering sigh out from him.
“I don't know.” He rasped, clawing at your hips and the band of your shorts, leaving red marks in their wake. “Maybe, Sy's Therapy Barn or something.” He puffed, losing focus on the idea of running a business and growing more interested in tearing your shorts and underwear off.
“I like it.” You nodded, slipping off his lap, smiling at his hands grabbing to bring you back, but stood and took your shorts and panties off, before straddling his thick thighs again. “Rolls of the tongue and easy to remember.” You told him, taking his burning shaft in your hand, stroking him firmly as you guided him towards your glistening entrance.
“Mmhm.” Sy mumbled, his mouth latching onto your collarbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”
You chuckled, caressing your free hand over his head and gripped his shoulder, using it as leverage to sink down onto him, with a soft sigh and leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.
“I love you, Syverson.”
“Ditto.” He rumbled back, wrapping his arms around you and locking you against him.
“Welcome to Sy's Therapy Barn!” You grinned as a man came through the door, the bell above it chiming through the building, his ripped muscles making the fabric of his Under Armor shirt scream, his tattooed arms showing below the short sleeves. “Are you here for the classes or to look about?” You asked, motioning around the grand shop with beaming pride.
You and Sy had found a thousand square foot warehouse, filling it with all your pottery and therapy needs and dreams. Sy had even decided to go to school and become a licensed therapist, allowing him to help the people coming into the Therapy Barn better. While they got their hands cupped around the little mounds of clay, during your classes, so they could shape it into whatever their minds wanted or needed.
Part of the warehouse was set up with kilns of all sizes and kinds, tall and wide shelves to hold pour molds and drying creations. While another section was where you and Sy held the classes for the therapy groups, either for former or active Combat Service people or, those who Sy referred to as Regulars, members of the public who hadn't served. All of them there to try and remedy their PTSD, trauma, depression, loss, domestic violence or anything else along those lines.
People that didn't require therapy were also welcome, of course.
But the two of you catered to those in need specifically, and so far, business was booming. Sy had gone to the several local Veteran Centers in the Dallas area with fliers promoting the business's program, as well as the VFW Canteens and posting on the internet. Even calling some of his old comrades. Sy had been worried and a bit skeptical with your first pottery class, sure that no one was going to show up to it. However, when the time rolled around, the bell above the front door started dinging with customers, most of them were middle aged or elderly, but there were several your and Sy's age, looking apprehensive.
It made you smile to see that look on their face, it was the exact expression you'd seen on Sy's face, that night you met in the parking lot of Mini's Pottery Barn, before he discovered the magic of forming clay. You always looked forward to seeing it change into the wonder of how amazing it is, to see your brave Captain use his fresh Bachelor's Degree to help them work through the same struggles he had. The struggles you had woken up at one or two in the morning, to find Sy in the garage, in nothing, but the shorts he'd gone to bed in, hunched over his pottery wheel, his muscles tight and teeth gritted, but his hands cupped gently around the piece of clay he was working. Trying to chase away whatever he had been awoken by.
“I'm here for the class, with Dr. Syverson.” He replied, looking around uneasily, like he expected a bomb to go off in one of the teapots you'd crafted and had on sale in the front window of the shop.
“That's great!” You grinned at him, trying to be open and encouraging towards him. “The class will start in ten minutes. You can either take a seat or have a look around. There's coffee, tea and water on the table with some cupcakes and snicker-doodle cookies, so help yourself.”
“No booze.” He mumbled, eyeing the table.
“No,” You answered, giving him an emphatic look. “Some of our potter's are recovering and sober, so we don't offer it.” You explained to him, glancing over at one of your regulars with a nod. “To repress the urge to relapse.”
He looked at you for a moment. “That's—actually, very thoughtful of you.” He said, blinking as it came over him.
“We do our best.” Sy said, appearing from the back. “Pleasure to meet ya.” He offered his hand to the other man. “Captain Syverson, 1st battalion, 3rd SFG(a). Also Dr. Austin Syverson, the co-owner of this here Therapy Barn.” He introduced himself, always giving his classifications to the Vets, knowing how at ease it made them and started that thread of a bond with him.
“Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” He replied, shaking Sy's hand. “Lieutenant Daniel Burton, 3rd recon battalion, for the Marines.”
“Well, it's good to meet you, Lieutenant.” Sy nodded, then smiled over at you, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. “I'm sure my fiancee has given you the introduction to our business.”
“That she has.” Daniel nodded, giving you a kind smile. “Though, I'll admit, I'm a little apprehensive as to how this is going to help me get straightened out. I watched some videos on pottery on Youtube and it just doesn't seem like much.”
You and Sy looked at each other, a smile and knowing look on each other's faces.
“It seems that way. I thought the same thing, myself, at first.” Sy confessed, a winking at you. “But, all you have to do is take all your emotions. All your pain, all your love, all your passion and all your rage and work it into that bit of clay we give you on that pottery wheel and the rest comes with it.”
You looked at Sy, it had become a thing between the two of you, and in doing so, that line had become his motto. It had become part of the business's motto, and few people actually caught the reference. But that was all right. The two of you still got through to people in the end. Saving them from their dark past through horrible movie quotes, a man that took a chance on a hobby and your skill with moving clay, sculpting a life and a business out of it.
#henry cavill#henrycavill#viking-raider fics#Syverson#cpt syverson#syverson fanfiction#syverson x you#syverson x reader#captain syverson#syverson smut#syverson fluff#captain syverson x reader#Syverson/You#Syverson/Reader#Sand Castle#Fluff#Angst#Sy's Therapy Barn#Sy's Therapy Barn *Fic*
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Title: Wasted Love {Part II}
Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Warning: Language, High Angst
Words: 6.3k
Summary: Nope.
Note: Posted the first part of this months back and finally getting around to part 2. I hope you like it. Look out for the final part.
As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!
As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️
***NOT Edited/Proofread***
Previous: Wasted Time |
-Lewis-
"For fuck's sake!” He threw the controller across the room. When it collided with the floor it shattered sending pieces everywhere. "Woah. Woah! What the hell?!” Andrew, Miles, and Daniel all looked at him with varying expressions of confusion, shock, and concern. "Yo, what the fuck is your problem? It’s just an L in MK," Andrew said. He sighed then rubbed his face, pressing a little harder than necessary. "Like we can go again, and I'll let you win if it's that serious," Miles said. He sighed again, his head miles, leaps, and bounds away from the video game, the living room, or his friends. His mind was still in that penthouse suite with you standing in front of him as you argued going back and forth both pushing and neither relenting even a little. His head was still there picking apart every word, every expression, every shuddered breath, every pupil dilation. "Yo, Lewis," Daniel called bringing his attention back to them. "Nah, this can't be about the game. Even you're not that petty," Miles said putting his controller down. "What's up?" He rolled his head around cracking each joint in his neck and shoulders. He hadn't realized until now how wound up he'd been over the last 2 and a half weeks. He also hadn’t realized how steadily his anger and frustrations were climbing too. What was him being in disbelief for the first few days after the confrontation turned into anger then annoyance. Right now he was festering and stewing in all three. He couldn’t believe that after everything you'd been through, everything you'd shared, the lengthy conversations, the trips to and from each of your homes, the late-night phone and video calls that lasted for hours and hours, the dates, the trips, the interactions with his family and him yours, all of it, you were here.
While he had thought you were building and strengthening and growing toward each other despite his insane schedule and lack of free time, that wasn't the case at all. If you had then there was no way you could have said the shit you did or believed he would do some shit like that. "Dude," Andrew began. "It's nothing," he lied. "Bullshit. It's not racing that's been going good, it's not the other hustles either. What, is it Y/N?" His entire body tensed at the mention of your name. That was different. Before, your name brought him peace, a smile and so much more. "Bingo. What is it? Haven't seen her in a few weeks, she too busy for your ass and you salty for it?" He was used to Daniel’s teasing, and usually, he would laugh it up and allow them to bust his chops, but right now Daniel was rubbing on a sensitive topic. Before he realized it he'd kissed his teeth. That action made all three of them perk up. "What's wrong?" "We're done," he blurted out as if the words were acrid acid on his tongue. They were quiet for a few moments, then Miles broke it. "Done? Fuck outta here. You're lying." "I'm for real,” he replied with a touch of exasperation in his voice. "What? What happened?" He sighed again then told them the whole story not leaving out anything. He wanted to hear their thoughts mainly because he felt they would take his side. As he went through the whole thing again he had to admit to himself that there were some things he shouldn't have said, things that he recognized fueled your ruthlessness, things he now regretted. When he'd said his piece he waited for them to tune in, however, a good minute passed before any of them said a word. They just exchanged looks as if speaking nonverbally and trying to come to a consensus. "She fucked up right." Daniel made a face. "IIIIIIII mean," he stretched out in that high-pitched tone that said even more.
"Hold on,” Andrew interrupted, “Has something changed? I thought you were all about her these last months. I thought since she finally gave you the time you were being real.”
“I was—am—was. Shit.”
“You slipped up?”
“No! It was nothing, it was work.”
They all gave him the look as if he was full of shit. Kissing his teeth again he rolled his eyes. “I’m telling the truth. It was work, nothing more. Hell I even told them that when they tried to tag team off each other to spit game. I told them I was seeing someone, and it was getting serious, and I wasn’t bout that life anymore.”
“That’s what I thought,” Miles said.
“I didn’t even know she was there. She showed me some fucked picture and she ran with that shit.”
“What picture?”
He opened his messages, found the picture then showed it to them. You’d sent it to him a few hours after you’d left when he texted you that, “You were fucking things up”, your reply was the picture and a simple reply, “Naw bruh you did that shit all on your own. Own it!” It was the last message you’d sent him. It was now almost 3 weeks later, and you were still radio silent.
“Woah, yeah. That looks bad,” Andrew spat out.
Daniel took his phone and studied the picture closer. “Is she kissing your neck?”
“No.”
Miles now snatched the phone and studied it. “And her hand--.”
“No. Nothing happened. The wild shit is this was a backroom photoshoot for the brand. We were posing for the designer for their social marketing.”
“Does she know that?”
“I don’t know. I shit you not, she blew in like a hurricane and within 10 minutes she was gone. She didn’t let me explain. Nothing. Someone sent her that picture.”
“Someone wanted to start shit and she took the bait.”
“9 months. 9 fucking months I’ve been bending backward trying to erase my past for her. 9 months I’ve been putting in wild effort to show her, prove to her I’m not the same dude I used to be, 9 months I’ve been going hard trying to show her what she meant to me and that I’m not fucking around when it comes to her, but 10 minutes and it all blew the fuck up. Now I’m angry, what the fuck was I doing this whole time? Why?”
They didn’t bother replying because there was nothing else to say. They knew everything he was saying was true. He’d cut out all the extra shit months ago because he wanted to get closer to you. He’d decided to be the committing type and he was happy to do it, happy to show you he was more than his reputation. He’d turned on plenty of trips, parties, and things of the kind with his boys because it would have backfired. He’d worked hard to earn your trust but in truth, he hadn’t earned anything. You still saw him as he used to be. And that was the hard pill for him to swallow.
~~~~~~~
-1 Week Later-
“Uncle Lewis let’s go in the pool.”
Snapping out of it, he smiled at his niece then nodded. “Of course princess, let’s go.”
He walked to the edge of the pool and stood beside her. As they prepared his nephew approached and began doing the same thing. As they counted down from three he jumped at 2.
“Aw, Uncle Lewis you cheated!”
He shrugged and watched them leap into the water creating massive miniature splashes of the one he’d just created. When they emerged they came after him trying to attack him like little baby sharks. Each of their attempts was blocked and turned around on them. When one failed he grabbed the other and tossed them across the pool then did the same for the other. Soon there was almost just as much water outside the pool as there was inside.
By the time he got out of the pool the sun was setting and he was exhausted. Dropping himself into one of the lounge chairs, he sighed and allowed himself to relax. However, relaxation wasn’t in the cards for him. Though the activity from before worked to distract him from his heavy thoughts, now with the absence of said activity it all came flooding back. With an exasperated grunt, he grabbed his phone off of the side table and then went to his socials.
As he aimlessly scrolled through the posts he liked a few and kept swiping. Some of the posts he registered others he didn’t. Within a few short minutes, he somehow found himself on yours. He didn’t even notice until he was staring at one of your recent posts, a picture of yourself staring deeply into the camera. It looked like something shot for a brand or a photoshoot rather than a natural selfie.
For several moments all he thought of was how fucking gorgeous you were. The saying ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul’ rang true for you because every time he gazed into them he was always pulled into their depths to drown in their beauty. Fuck, he missed you he thought to himself. On the 4th post he’d landed on he sighed seeing you laughing uncontrollably with your best friend. You looked like you hadn’t a care in the world; like you were blissfully happy. The thought hit him then that you looked like you didn’t miss him one bit.
Acknowledging that made his heart thud painfully then his annoyance was back. It was just like you to leave him to fall apart while you escaped with carefreeness. He’d always suspected that he felt more for you than you felt for him. He guessed that this was his proof. He tapped the tag in the photo of your best friend and found even more videos and pictures of you. The backdrop said you were either on an island or some European seaside town and you were enjoying yourself. He pressed his finger to the screen, freezing the video on your smiling face. Drinking wasn’t really his thing, but fuck did he want a drink or three right now.
“You’re messing yourself up.”
Snapping his head up, he found his mother sitting beside him.
“Mum.”
“Not only are you messing yourself up with everything you’re keeping in but you’re trying to use everything you possibly can as an escape, case in point this last-minute trip,” she finished.
“Mum, it’s not like--.”
“And according to Miles and Daniel, you’re spiraling inside, and it’s not a little.”
“I’m fine, mum, I promise,” he half lied placing his phone on the side table face up.
“You’re not. How could you be fine? The first woman you’ve allowed yourself to fall in love with in years has done a flip and turn because of your actions.”
His brow rose, “What?”
“Acceptance of one’s actions is important, Lewis. I have always taught you that.”
“Naw. Nope, I didn’t do this. I didn’t make this happen. She is a distrustful person.” He sat up straighter then, “I worked my butt off to show her she could trust me, to show her that I wanted her and only her.”
His mother shook her head about that. “If you’re still doing the things you know are triggers for her, how are you proving anything?”
He looked at her incredulously. He knew she liked you a lot and had grown closer to you over the past months, but he didn’t know when she’d completely jumped on your ship while abandoning his.
“Mum, I can’t control half the things she thinks,” he pleaded.
“The pictures Lewis. The pictures and your choice of words.”
He sighed then because he knew that she’d talked to you already. He was tempted to ask his mother for the play-by-play, but he decided against it knowing she probably wouldn’t go for it.
“It was innocent. It was work.”
“Did you tell her that? You know someone sent her those pictures? Someone wanted to start problems and it was too easy because you helped them along.”
“I tried to tell her, but she basically called me a liar. She looked me in my eyes and decided not to believe me. Plus it’s a lot more than she ever afforded me. She’s photographed with a lot of guys all the time; some work, some not, she doesn’t explain any of it to me, yet I trust her enough to believe it’s not something wild or disrespectful. Yet when it comes to me, I’m automatically the knob.”
“Lewis,” she warned.
He raised his hand, sighed out then leaned back in the chair.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before he continued. “She treats me like an option mum--a bloody option. This whole year, the 9 we’ve been together and the 3 it took to claim her, I’ve treated her like my only choice.”
The truth to those words was a truth he’d buried deep. His mother reached over and took his hand.
“Sweetie,” she began.
He knew what was coming, knew she was either going to defend you or try to soothe the pain he felt. He didn’t want either.
“She acts like I never said the words.”
Another truth he’d buried. “I said them, I meant them and she--she never said them back, never even acknowledged them.”
That night was still fresh in his mind. The night when his body and heart felt matched perfectly, it was the night he’d said the words he’d felt for weeks and weeks before. He’d stared deeply into your eyes and said them. ‘I love you.’ He’d meant them. He didn’t know he could still truly feel that way about anyone or feel enough to say the words. You’d proven him wrong, and he was cut up because of it.
“Lewis, I’m thrilled that you’ve finally found someone that you want in your life for more than a few months. It makes me so happy that you have found someone to love. She is a wonderful woman, but, who cares what she does? If this is how you feel how you truly feel, if she is who you choose and wholeheartedly want beside you then you are supposed to be with it be about her no matter what.”
“Seriously!? No.”
“That my love, is the difference between a boy and a grown man. A grown man is one hundred percent true to what’s in here,” she reached over then pat his chest just over his heart. “He is about it, and nothing changes it because it does not matter.”
“How—H--how do I do that? How in the world do I put myself out there--,” he voiced before she cut him off.
“--And invite her to break your heart? Is she worth the risk?”
He didn’t want to open his mouth to even answer this. If you weren’t worth it, he wouldn’t have spent so much time perusing you. He never would have made so much of an effort to include you in his world and life, he wouldn’t have waited 6 fucking months to sleep with you so both of you were sure where your hearts were, he wouldn’t have ever told you he loved you. Of course, you were worth it but the memory of the look in your eyes as you spoke to him, the last thing you’d said to him held part of him back.
“I have always been and will always be that bitch with or without you.”
That coupled with the way you looked at him just before the elevator doors closed held him back.
“Lewis!”
“I—I don’t—I don’t know anymore.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I thought I knew, thought I was so sure, I was sure, but--I don’t.”
This was fucked, he thought as he felt his mother’s eyes boring into him. When she stood she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as she did when he was a child after a spill. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out while he relished this comforting embrace. It was in his mother’s loving and judgment-free arms he finally broke letting it all go.
Hours seemed to pass this way, or perhaps it had been just mere minutes. When his sister approached he felt heaps better but his heart was still heavy. A notification from his phone drew his attention as his sister sat on the floor before him. As he checked it, his sister gave her best attempt at a pep talk. Some words he caught others he missed but the sentiment was sometimes time helped people see the error of their ways and come up with ways to fix the errors. He didn’t know if she meant his errors or yours.
He went into his socials DMs and found a message from your best friend. After hesitating for a few moments he tapped into it and found a video. It took him to a recent video that was only available to her close friends. Your face came into view, and he instantly noticed the tears on your cheeks. You held your hand up to block the camera view, but the angle only changed.
“When bestie is tired of frontin' for the gram with the having the time of my life posts and allows herself to be sad and you gotta cheer her up,” your best friend said.
“Stop. You can’t record me like this. I’m not sad,” you protested.
“No?”
You were quiet for a few seconds. “No.”
Your voice was clouded as if your throat was tight words struggled to make it through. “Not sad—really, really sad,” you said voice a sobbing whine.
Fuck, he thought. He hated seeing you cry.
“What—what do I—do I do now?”
“Allow yourself to feel it,” your friend suggested.
You sobbed some more, and he watched your friend hug you before the video ended. So many things flew through his mind but the two things that kept coming around. The first was how much he missed you.
The second, you were worth it.
~~~~~~
-Y/N-
Everyone said that the first month of a breakup was always the hardest and those words were proving true. Since those elevator doors had closed you’d done everything to keep yourself moving. You piled on work to make sure you had no free time to sit and think. However, that didn’t quite work because wherever you went, something reminded you of him. Either it was a café or a location you went to for a shoot, or even something you ate. You nearly threw yourself into the ocean when one of the set interns brought you a glass of Almave.
When work didn’t prove successful, you picked yourself and your friends up for a girls’ trip to a faraway island. You drank, partied, and posted it all on your socials hoping you could fake it till you made it, but the faking became too much. By nightfall every night, you wallowed with a bottle or two of wine.
While you were beyond pissed at Lewis you also knew that picture was sent to you on purpose. You weren’t an idiot and had dealt with plenty of conniving, duplicitous bitches in your days. You knew someone was trying to fuck with you and start shit and you were giving them what they wanted. That didn’t matter because none of that changed the content of the photo.
Every time you came back to that no matter how much of your anger had dissipated, it all came back with that one nugget of fact. It was straight-up disrespect. If the tables had been turned and it was you, Lewis would have made a huge fuss over it by being extra petty. You refused to believe you were in the wrong, but several bits of your interaction tried to come through to show you had been in the wrong for a few things.
You were a passionate person and usually when arguing that passion shines through and oftentimes you get reckless at the mouth not caring how your words are thrown together or the force of those words. You knew you fought dirty; it was the only way you knew how. You blamed it on the years of living a single and independent life after one of the worst breakups of your life. It had caused more damage than good. You’d had no one to answer to, no one to consider or consult and you oftentimes still lived there in your head. It was a major switch to flip and a switch you failed, more times than you liked to admit, to flip.
You knew that night you’d said whatever came to mind and didn’t care if the words hurt. In fact, you said some things to cause pain and that was the source of your regret. Lewis had often told you throughout your 9-month relationship that your mouth would get you in trouble in more ways than one. He’d warned you about your recklessness and told you he wouldn’t stand for it because if he really wanted he could get just as reckless as you.
That was one of the things you loved about him. He wasn’t afraid to call you out on your bullshit and put you in your place when you got into your bad girlfriend mode.
Sighing, you raised the glass of wine to your lips and guzzled until it was empty. Your eyes fell to the now empty wine bottle, and you debated with yourself over getting another. It was the 2nd bottle of the night, and you knew if you got a 3rd you’d have entered lush territory, but you didn’t care enough to resist. So you slinked across the kitchen to the wine fridge and grabbed another bottle of wine, but before you closed it you grabbed one more just in case.
After you’d popped the cork and filled your glass to the brim your phone went off with a security notification. Checking the application, you reviewed the notice of someone entering your code into your security gate.
“What the hell?”
Another notification came in informing you a car was pulling up the drive. You went over the registered movements watching the videos to figure out if you had a security breach or if someone was just showing up unannounced. On the 3rd video, you realized who it was.
“No fucking way.”
You walked out of the kitchen, through your home, and to your front door. Before you got there, the bell rang. Once you turned the corner you saw who it was through the intricately decorated glass doors. Lewis Hamilton. Neither of you moved. You stood there staring at each other. You couldn’t read the expression in his brown eyes, but you could read the dark circles underneath them and his lackluster complexion. He looked slightly sick but also indifferent. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was having as hard a time as you were. You’d purposely stayed off his and his friends' accounts to avoid any excessive thoughts of him.
Lewis didn’t move a muscle, he patiently waited for you to make your move. It was a move you didn’t know how to make. You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t wanted him to run after you and fight some more, but you also didn’t want to see him again. So one hand itched to grab the knob and open the door for him but the other hand wanted to override the security system and shutter down your house.
You closed your eyes and took several deep breaths giving your body control to see which side won. When your hand wrapped around the knob you wanted to break it. Once you opened the door, you snapped your eyes open.
“What the hell are you doing here? How did you get past my gate?”
Lewis scoffed and slightly shook his head before speaking, “Let me in, Y/N.”
You scrunched your face and doubled down on your annoyance. “What? Not a chance in hell. Answer me. How?”
When your best friend's name came out of his mouth your eyes bugged. There was no way.
“Bullshit! There is no way my best friend would give you my security code for my gate without letting me know. There is no way!”
He looked unamused now.
“Yet she did.”
You studied him still shocked.
“Let me in.”
“No. Why would I do that? We have nothing to talk about.”
“I think we have a lot to talk about.”
You scoffed. “Five weeks too late. Anything I had to say was said already. We’ve both said enough. You should go 44.”
Lewis took a sharp breath in and released it. As it came out it sounded like a hiss. “Oh boy. Y/N, stop talking! For real just stop—fucking talking and let me in!”
“What the fuck?! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Do I fucking look like one of your side bitches, or your groupies?!”
From the heat rushing through you, you could tell that your anger was beginning to really boil now. With quick moves, Lewis moved from his side of the door to close the space between you. Before you knew it, he had one of his hands cupping your skull and his lips pressed to yours. Like magic as if on command you stopped moving and any thought of protest faded, hell any thought at all faded.
Lewis’ lips moved against yours in a way you’d found yourself missing the last five weeks. He kissed you like a starved man, like a man who’d come back to claim what was his and your body reacted in the only way it had ever reacted—eager acceptance.
A small whimper escaped you and that was when Lewis backed off. You kept your eyes closed relishing the feelings that had now bubbled up within you, feelings you’d been working overtime to suppress and ignore. One kiss was all it took for the geyser to erupt.
“You talk to fucking much for your own good,” Lewis whispered.
You could feel the whisps of his breath against your face and picked up the scent of mint, and some form of berry. You tried to control your breathing so he wouldn’t see how much he still affected you. Opening your eyes, you peered into his glossy doe ones.
“You’ve said more than enough. I still have shit to say. So listen.”
Lewis then squeezed your hip bringing you back to the present. It was then you realized your body was pressed to his and his hand was gripping you holding you against him controlling your body like he always did. Shit, you thought. You loved when he took control, loved how he always knew how to shut you up when you got into one of your what he would call Y/N fits. Lewis squeezed your hip once more while biting his bottom lip and you wanted to knee him in the balls because of how easy it still was for him to turn you on.
As if he knew it too, Lewis released you as quickly as he’d grabbed you and walked into your house. A shiver rushed through you making you shudder. Asshole, you thought while you closed and locked your door. When turned around he was standing there waiting for you. Rolling your eyes, you led the way back to the kitchen. Once there you grabbed your glass and finished it.
“Speak.”
Lewis scoffed. “Don’t test me, Y/N.”
Clenching your jaw you refilled your glass then watched him with slightly narrowed eyes. You were not going to make any of this easy for him.
“I’m tired of these subs you keep throwing my way. So fucking tired of it. It’s like you enjoy being cold and evil to me and that’s not even cool. I’ve never taken joy in being cold to you.”
Shaking your head you took another sip from your glass.
“I’ve known you for years. Yeah, it wasn’t like we were in the same friend group, but we were cordial. I’ve wanted you the entire time I’ve known you. Yeah, yeah, I was messing with other women throughout that time.”
“Messing? Just say fucking. Call a spade a spade and move the fuck on,” you blurted out.
“Again, stop talking!”
His voice bounced around the kitchen, but you didn’t feel fear. You’d never feared him. You knew he wasn’t one of those men who hit women. That had never and would never be him. Narrowing your eyes, you took a large gulp of your wine, your conflicting feelings wreaking havoc on you.
“You act like you don’t have a past or even things from your past you’re ashamed of. Shit Y/N! I’ve told you I am not that man anymore, I’ve changed.”
“I don’t believe you.”
The silence stretched and you kept your eyes on him. He looked hurt but also frustrated. “I get that, and I’ve been killing myself by doing what I can to prove it to you, to show you I deserve your time.”
Shaking your head you scoffed. “You don’t have to prove shit else, Lewis. I have all the proof I need; I saw it all in that picture!”
“The picture was bullshit. Tell me you don’t get someone is fucking with you.”
“Again why do they want to do that Lewis? Huh! Is it because of your thot ass!”
“Oh my god, here we go again! Stop throwing my past in my face. I’ve owned it and have walked away from it. That picture was bullshit. I was working. What that picture doesn’t show--.”
You grabbed the wine bottle and began walking away. “I don’t give a shit anymore!”
Lewis’ hand wrapped around your wrist stopping your movement. “It was a photoshoot, Y/N. Someone took a picture of an impromptu photoshoot and sent it to you out of context.”
You scanned his eyes for any sign of a lie.
“You’re lying.”
“I have never lied to you. I swear it. You can even go to the brand owner and find out, it’s easy to do.”
You couldn’t believe that. “You’re lying Lewis.”
“I’m not. I told you I would never do some shit like that to you.”
You kept scanning his eyes unable to wrap your head around what he was saying. He had to be lying. Right?
“Look--,” he began dropping his hand and releasing you. With a sigh, he continued, “I came here to give you this.”
He then pulled something from his back pocket and held it out to you. The large brown envelope in his hand looked like doom in the form of an office supply.
“This is the last goddamn time I’m going to have you throw my past in my face. The last fucking time, Y/N. It’s not fair and I shouldn’t have to explain shit to you because this was before you and has nothing to do with us, here or now, but for some fucking reason I feel like I have to, and it irks the shit out of me especially since you don’t give me the same courtesy.”
His words felt like dull blades whipping against your skin. That flared your anger.
“You don’t have to explain shit to me.”
“Shut up!”
That was it. Though you liked it when he stood up to you, you hated feeling this backed into a corner, especially with the truths he’d just dropped.
“Listen, you’re not gonna be--.”
That was all you got out before Lewis’ lips were pressed to yours once again and again everything stopped. His lips manipulated you making you slump back against the wall you hadn’t realized you were pressed to. Lewis’ large hand squeezed your hip once again and you’d never wanted to strip someone more than him right now. When he pulled his lips from yours he kept his forehead to yours.
“You’ve never fucked with a guy like me. I told you that 9 months ago and it’s still true. I’m not going to just let you talk to me any old way. Those other fools were weak as fuck. I’m not weak. I can handle your ass,” Lewis said.
He didn’t need to say shit else because you were now turned the fuck on. Your eyes locked and it took everything in you to remain composed though his lips looked more and more tempting with each passing second.
“Are you listening now?”
You had no words.
“I’m done with that life. It’s boring, it’s old and to be honest it weighs me the fuck down. I want you and it goes past sex, it goes past claiming you or getting a notch, or even letting the world know I got you. None of that matters to me, it never has. I want you. I want Y/N. I’ve been real this entire time.”
Again he pushed out the envelope to you.
“After I give you this it’s all in your hands, your court, your decision. I’ll chase you but I’ll only chase you so far. This is how far.”
Your eyes dropped to the envelope between your bodies, but you didn’t reach for it. You couldn’t. You were actually scared of it and what it may hold. Glancing back at him, you studied his face.
“Your decision, make it. If it’s not me then cool. No hard feelings, we’re still friends and I’ll wish you nothing but the best but,” Lewis paused then cupped your chin as he pressed himself against you more. With his face mere centimeters from yours, he finished, “My lips will not touch yours until you come to me for it.”
Holy shit, you thought to yourself.
“Our next kiss if it’s in the cards will be done by you, not me.”
From the look in his eyes, you could tell he was serious. You could tell he meant this with everything. He was done chasing you, done giving and giving only to have you keep him at a distance. Fuckity, fuck, you thought.
“Are you gonna take it?”
You wanted to shake your head, but you couldn’t move. It was like he was the headlights, and you were the deer. You recognized the fear you felt. You knew it was do or die and you knew this was the moment of truth for your relationship. With what he’d told you about the picture being a set up you were more confused than ever. Rightfully, he shouldn’t even be here right now, not after your conversation before and how it all went down. He was still here trying to get you back.
You slowly took the envelope with a shaky hand, the only tell of your fear. Lewis slowly backed away from you while keeping his eyes on yours. When he was a few feet away he turned and began walking out of the kitchen.
“So that’s it?”
Lewis stopped then looked back at you. His expression was different now. You could tell how hurt he was now, how much you’d hurt him.
“You tell me, Y/N.”
You didn’t know what to tell him, so you didn’t say anything. Lewis nodded, the disappointment filling his eyes before he turned from you and walked away. You stood there listening to him walk through your house, his footsteps getting further and further away. When you heard the door close you released breath you didn’t know you were holding. The notification sounds from your phone told you that he’d driven down the drive and left the property.
It was then you put the envelope on the kitchen counter and took several deep breaths trying to calm yourself. No matter how many breathing exercises you did you still couldn’t calm down. Your mind raced replaying the conversation, dissecting every move, word, and glance, and analyzing it against every other conversation over the last 9 months. When your legs gave way from the weight of it all, you dropped to the floor. One question kept screaming in your head.
Had it all truly been wasted love or was there still hope?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton fanfiction#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton blurb#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#wasted time one shot#wasted love one shot
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Jacky has a haunted arm. It started as a roleplay thing that I didn't think I would make canon, but I probably will. The situations it creates are fun. Anyway, for our amusement she can use it to touch ghosts so she scared hers. (Art doesn't quite match the writing). You can read the roleplay clip under the read more or on toyhouse.
GreekCeltic-
Junior was where she left him. He glanced at her. Same face. Same bags under his eyes and blushless pallor. What did that bandit say?
When eyes meet, the soul has made love?
Yeah he was wrong.
Junior turned back around and she wondered how far she could walk before he was compelled to join her. She felt a little bad for not asking, but the feeling had no stay power. His wants and needs took a backseat to hers and she had found a way to make herself okay with that.
He could talk. It was within his power to ask her to put him in someone else’s care any time he wanted. After being left in the woods she could understand why he wouldn't want to be parked on Vlinder's hearth- in the same forest -but there were other people in their group who would travel. All basically good people.
Picking her was self sabotage.
Idiot.
She walked all the way in and shut the door behind her. The wind feathered a few rug ends but didn't bother with him.
Maybe he's like AI and can't defy me, she wondered. Like bullshit television. She had never made the leap that it could be worse. Jacky felt that she was babysitting and had exactly as much authority as a teenager over a nine year old. In the end, not very much at all. She kept waiting for his tantrum, wanting it because after all that had happened it would make sense, even be healthy, but it never came.
She stumbled back toward the fur mat she had grown to hate since she woke up and stared down at it, too tired to sleep. There was such a thing. Jacky swayed weakly near it and turned away.
She looked at him again and ground her bottom jaw.
Dummy should be begging to leave.
She hated the way he idled against the wall like a toy soldier waiting for something to do. That was the kind of thing that got ice put down your shorts at sleep overs. The idea of that made her spine prickle in a bad way, but it made her think. Jacky tilted back and lidded her eyes. She reached for one of the support pillars and rested her weight on it, two feet closer to him. I could do it. She moved her feet, taking care not to scuff them on the floor. She didn't have to worry about the boards creaking. If they didn't notice Vlinder they weren't going to notice her. There were no more pillars between them, but she thought she'd make it. She tried, and on the way thought about how many nights he'd spent right there in a different room. Waiting or staring, as engaged as a coat put away on a hanger. He didn't even breathe loudly because he didn't breathe anymore. DO something! The last few feet ended with her wobbling behind him, alarmingly silent, but not very steady. She reflexively tried to grab his shirt to pull it back with her good hand, but it went right through. Jacky didn't stop to wonder if he'd noticed that. She stuck her *cold* hand out like a senile old woman with a fork. It went up his shirt and flattened on the part where his back sank in. It worked when she slapped him. No reason to think it wouldn't work now. Themascura--
The target of her ire had no idea. None. He was peacefully existing in a corner, appreciating the window. It was nice to have a different view. He liked trees. Not enough to have been okay with just their company for a few millennia, but enough to be okay staring at them for a few days. It was pretty out there. There were squirrels. And birds! Not many of those in the city. The cats had mostly eaten them all- Jacky was about to learn a whole lot of things in quick succession. One, she could in fact scare the shit out of a ghost. Two, despite being dead ghosts did in fact have startle responses. Three, when she was touching a ghost with her ghost hand apparently walls became interactable- because he slapped the window/wall with his belly when he jumped and it made a sound. A beautiful hollow sound, like when you thumped a watermelon. He left a foggy mark on the window when he hopped back. He was still hopping when he turned around, trying to shake the ice cube out of his shirt. His spine was still flickering when he got all the way turned- visible through his shirt and his front and almost as far as his shoulders. The look he gave her was universal. The sibling glance of- I WAS MINDING MY BUSINESS. Here you are, starting some shit. He stuck a hand straight out for her face, confident it would go through, but also confident it would mess with her already wonky balance and depth perception. Time for you to take a time out on the floor. You pushed your luck to far today anyway.
GreekCeltic-- His reaction was Christmas. She wasn't sure what to make of his spine. Jacky looked at her hand and wondered if it had cannibalized him somehow. A week ago she had dumped all the extra stuff into Christoph's leg. That had been a surprise. Christoph was alive, there was no way to know it wouldn't do the opposite and suck Junior up like a straw, like it had Virgil's magic. Oough, there was a mental image she did not enjoy. When she touched Christoph she went with a gut feeling that turned out to be right. Here too she decided to go with a gut feeling-- that it was fine. "Oh excuse me did I interrupt your vacant staring?" Jacky's hand was still up, she dropped it and raised her other one, rubbing her arm furiously like she was trying to warm it up. Cold fire appeared and walked toward her elbow. "Gonna do it again." She spread the fire to her good hand but she never got to try it. He threw his at her face- IN her face -and she spilled in stages. Mostly in slow, wobbly, backwards walking motions that ended up near the bed. She fell against the edge. She had been put to bed. OBNOXIOUS. Jacky leaned into her sprawled arm and chose to be happy he showed some life. She didn't think she could get up without crawling on all fours and that wouldn't be preferable. She was also tired. It was possible she had never been so tired in her life. She crawled over the edge and fell into the divot like a kitten into a laundry basket. She slept all of the night and most of the next day. The only time she got up was to wash. She made a point of it so history wouldn't have to repeat itself. Who knows how many rag baths she got during the week. One was too many. Two would have been life ending. Her hair was close to dry when she went back to sleep. She tried to make it longer, but felt harassed that she was not alone. Dreams had been hard to remember the first week, but they were piling up now. She didn't know if she was remembering things or adding fantasies to what she did. All she knew was she couldn't be her own witness. With each waking she was a little more confused and a little more convinced she shouldn't have gone back for the brooch. It could have waited. At the time the idea of leaving Junior out there to believe no one was coming was too much and it was too much now, but was it worth it? The elf was back when she got up, laying beside her with his arm folded behind his head. Him again. Jacky looked at him a minute, but decided she didn't really care. She didn't know why. It should have embarrassed her but it was like sleeping with a big white dog. She got the feeling he thought of her as a cat. She looked across the room and saw Herman on his back against the wall, also asleep. Some kind of spell had fallen over this house. She and Junior were exempt. She grabbed her poncho and went out the front door. The moonlit air was bright and icy. She wasn't wearing her shoes but she didn't expect to go far and wanted the snow to bite her feet a little. It felt good even when it stung. When she got to the gate she put her hand on it and flipped up the latch (too complicated for a dead guy, apparently), but never pushed it forward. It would have been easy, but the idea of the gate held fast. There was a bigger obstacle here than a physical one. I shouldn't, Jacky thought. More like I can't. She'd been thinking about this a lot and the conclusion she came to was damned if I do, damned if I don't.
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New Year, New Chapter, All With You (Dabi x Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]
Pairing: Touya “Dabi” Todoroki x Self-Insert!Reader
Synopsis: In which Dabi wakes up on the first New Year’s Day he is spending with a significant other and decides to show her just how much this means to him in the best way he knows how: with his mouth, his hands, and anything else of his that you’re feening for in the new year.
Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); BF!Dabi x GF!Reader; Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized; Love Confession; Somno; Dubcon/R*pe (cuz Dabi eats you out in your sleep); Oral (Giving n Receiving); Deepthroat; Sloppy Facefuck; Spit Play; Dom!Dabi x sub!Reader; Daddy Kink; Mating Press; Pussy-drunk!Dabi; Cum-drunk!Reader; Breeding Kink; Implied Breeding; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Aftercare
Writer's Note: HAPPY 2025 Y'ALL!!! I hope to continue to make these smutty, freaky ass fics in the new year with all of your love & support! This is officially my first fic of 2025!! EVERYBODY CLAP!!! Thank you to @curiouscutie143 for the idea & for continuing to allow me to take her fantasy & apply it to a Google Doc lol. I hope y'all enjoy this sweet little New Year's Day one-shot for my favorite emotionally fucked-up villain. -Jazz
***********
Dabi has never shied away from his primal desires for you, but today, he is downright an animal and on some major bullshit that even he is staring at himself in wonder over.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he internally asks himself as he stares at you sleeping soundly next time. Though he has been asking himself this question nearly all of his life, this time it has nothing to do with his behavior, rage, or burning desire for vengeance.
On this particular morning, when the dawn of 2025 is here and the sun pours in through your bedroom window, it has everything to do with the way his body is reacting to the sight of you.
Lovely, brown, plump, sweet you.
You lay down asleep on your side, your back to him and the soft duvet draped across the bed covering you from the shoulder down. He knows you’re naked under the sheets. Last night, he came over to celebrate New Year’s Eve with you where you cooked him a steak dinner and he showed his appreciation by eating your pretty cunt until you came right as the ball dropped and midnight struck.
He has no idea what time you finally passed out and sleep came for him as well, leading you both to crash out in your bedroom at some point in the early AM hours. All he knows is that you spent the entire night fucking and cumming, never tapping out once. You seemed to be running on the same arousal and adrenaline as he was last night, never being able to get quite enough of his cock.
Looking at you now, so peaceful and serene, he can’t stop his cock from pulsing and twitching against his toned stomach etched in scars, staples, and tattoos. Your long lashes fan across your soft cheeks, black and doll-like, while your soft lips part to slowly inhale and exhale, your body rising and falling evenly as your lungs expand and deflate with air.
Dabi feels his heart leap in his throat and his cheeks flush at the sight of you. Now he knows that his body is reacting all to your sneaky spell. How dare you be so goddamn cute when you’re just sleeping? How dare you make him feel so deeply and so crazily when he just woke up?
You make a sudden noise between a sigh and a moan that makes his dick throb and turn over onto your back, something you often do in your sleep. You often laugh about it with him after discussing what in the hell he was talking about in his sleep that he couldn’t remember the night before. He loves laughing with you…almost as much as he loves your tits.
He ogles at them now as you lay flat on your back, a strand of hair in your face. You forgot to wrap it up the night before because he was too busy putting you into your mattress to let you put a bonnet on. “I don’t give a fuck about that shit,” he growled as he plunged his cock into you again and again, your juicy thighs parted for him in his calloused hands. “You’re fuckin’ sexy either way. Are you stupid?”
‘So beautiful,’ he thinks in utter adoration as he stares at you sleeping. ‘So mine.’
How he wants to reenact last night all over again. His cock is urging him to do so, pulsing and throbbing so uncomfortably under the covers. He too slept naked after last night’s fuck session, passing out next to you.
Lucky for you, he knows exactly how to get what he wants and give you a pleasant surprise all in one sitting. With a smirk, he carefully gets out of bed and moves to the bottom where your feet are. When he lifts the covers to see your glittery, dark purple toenails, he swears that his cock grows two sizes bigger.
How the fuck is it that even your toes make him rock? ‘Fuckin’ minx,’ he thinks.
Quickly, he ducks under the covers and slides up to your legs where he gently prys them apart. How he loves your lower body! Your soft, plush thighs; your pudgy stomach; your hips; your ass that could stop traffic; your stretchmarks. And don’t even make him mention that pretty rosebud between your juicy thighs. As much as he adores your upper body (especially your pretty face), the bottom half is just so much fun.
Just staring at your cunt now is enough to make him salivate as he holds your hips in his big, scarred hands. Though you’re not “ready” yet, he knows exactly how to get you there. He starts tracing light kisses along your belly, his fingers gliding down your sides before his kisses trail down to your thighs. He starts on the outside before he moves inside, pressing wet kisses and licks to the tender flesh. “Mmm,” you moan into your pillow, your head lolling to the left.
Already knowing that this is a good sign, Dabi continues to kiss and massage your thighs before slowly moving on to pressing light, butterfly kisses to your pussy. As he does, his hands stretch up your body to grasp your tits, massaging the magical, pretty globes in his calloused hands. You begin to moan a little more now, your chest instinctively arching into his touch.
Finally, he really gets into making your pussy feel good by leaving open-mouthed kisses along your pretty, brown lips, sucking gently on them before prying them apart with his mouth. His saliva wettens your folds, but as the seconds tick by, your pussy begins to lube itself, growing wet from Dabi’s sinful mouth and wicked tongue. “Oh,” you sigh when you feel his tongue piercing melt onto your clit. Though you’re still asleep, he knows your dreams have begun to shift to him.
He wonders just what you’re seeing behind those pretty eyes. Perhaps his face between your thighs? You’d better be. He is the only one who can make you feel this way and have you this way. To persuade you to see his way of things, he hikes your legs over his shoulders and proceeds to lap at your cunt, alternating between sucking, slurping, and lapping at the wetness you give him.
Your moans and gasps have grown louder now, your body writhing underneath his hands and mouth. Finally, you awaken, the morning sun hitting your face. As your eyes adjust, you notice the moving lump underneath the covers at your feet. “Ah….ah, wha…?” You lift your head and move the covers away from your naked body, finding your boyfriend between your legs and his pierced tongue lewdly licking at your clit. “D-Dabi? What are you doing?”
The white-haired stud looks up between your legs, his hypnotizing, blue eyes boring into yours.
“Da fuck do it look like?” he mutters with a glower. “I’m eating your pussy.” Without another word, he ducks back down to suck on your clit, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body, shocking you out of sleep and into reality.
“B-But…ah!” Your hands immediately go for his hair, intertwined in the soft, white locks. He looks good in black hair too, but you also thought the white hair gave him a sexier, more ethereal look. “But I was asleep!” you whine. “You woke me up!” Your boyfriend smirks, wetly popping off of your clit. “The sun would’ve woken you up anyway. C’mon, you can’t act like this ain’t the best way to wake up, baby.”
To make you see things his way once more and clear your head of all sleep and things that aren’t him, Dabi begins to rub your clit with his thumb while his tongue gently pries open your folds and dips into your entrance. Your moan is loud and almost a scream, your hands gripping his hair as he eats away, using that damn tongue in ways you’ve never had before. “Fuck!” you gasp. “D-Dabi–”
He hums in disapproval, pulling away to give your pussy a sharp smack. You jump at the contact, his calloused palm causing your cunt to throb. “Wrong name, mamas,” he growls. “Try again and maybe I’ll listen.”
His smirk is irking yet so sexy that it makes you want to cum right there. How you hate and love his cockiness and arrogance; his ability to peer right through you and know exactly what makes you tick.
“Daddy,” you whimper. He smiles, pleased. “At least get the lube.” His smile grows, reminding you of a villain whose plan is succeeding. Nasty motherfucker. “Naughty girl, always wantin’ that damn lube. You just like how it feels.”
And you do. You love this particular lube because of how it heats according to your body temperature and how it tastes: like strawberries. Dabi straightens up, knocking the covers off of both of your naked bodies. “But if I get it, you’d better be suckin’ that shit off of my cock later,” he raspily orders, nodding down at his cock that has quickly hardened against his thighs.
You whimper, feeling your pussy clench around air at the sight. His cock is beautiful–big, thick, and pierced at the head. “Yes, Daddy,” you obediently reply. Your boyfriend grins, knowing that you have fallen into his trap and you don’t want to ever go back until you release. Lucky for you, he is here and he won’t stop until you give him what he wants: your sweet, ushy, gushy cum.
Moments later, after he squirts some lube onto your pussy and his fingers, you both get what you want. The wet, sloshing sounds of the lube mixed with his spit and your juices fill the air as Dabi finger-fucks you, curling a finger up against your G-spot as he sucks on your clit. Wetness has dripped down to your asscrack and the mattress, creating a huge wet spot underneath you that neither one of you cares about staining the bed.
And you certainly don’t care about it when your boyfriend is doing such a great job eating you out and fingering you, focusing on particular spots that make you moan louder and arch your back harder for him. “That’s my good girl,” he coos against your clit. “Jus’ look at how much you’re gushin’ for me, doll. Givin’ me so much.”
He gives your clit a long suck before using his tongue to lick over the hood, rolling and licking the bud again and again. “Ohhhh,” you moan, your head lolling back against the pillow and your body twitching in pleasure. It doesn’t take long for the urge to cum to rise and that knot in your core tightens. “Ohhh, fuck, Dabi, I’m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me…!”
Your words break off with a gasp as Dabi’s finger glows its pace, still fucking focusing on that spot that makes you see space and time. His blue eyes flick up to drill into yours, intensity radiating from them. “Tell me you love me first.” In your delirious state of blinding pleasure, you manage to hear that. And why wouldn’t you? The L-word was in there!
You blink at Dabi, perplexed. You have never told each other that you loved one another…though you do feel that for him. You have loved him for a long time now, having realized it one random day while watching a movie and feeling his arms wrapped around you. You felt good. Right, even. But you’ve never said it in fear of scaring Dabi or making him run. You know that love has never exactly done him well in his life until recent years when he reconnected with his siblings.
Love has never been something Dabi has been able to obtain until he met the LOV crew and made a family with them. You want nothing more than to tell him that he has a family with you too. And maybe now, splayed out with your pussy in his face, you can tell him that. “W-What?” you stammer. “I–oh!”
Dabi gives a long, teasing lick from your asscrack up to your pussy as his finger speeds up, still curled inside of you in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Say you love me,” he demands. “Tell me and I’ll let you cum. I know you need it, baby, so tell me.”
You can’t think about why he’s demanding this of you. You can’t ask him where any of this is coming from (at least right now). Not when this feels so good and the urge to cum is intensifying, creating a tight fist in your core. “I-I love you!” you sob, gripping his hair for dear life. “I love you, Daddy! Please, please let me cum! You eat this pussy so good!”
You feel Dabi smile against your clit, overjoyed by your confession. “Cum for me, baby,” he growls, his eyes flashing with need. “Fuckin’ give it to me. Don’t you dare hold back.” He begins French kissing your clit as his finger works with his mouth to make you cream all over his tongue and his digit, groaning against your wetness. “Cum all over my face,” he practically begs. “Give it to me!”
He is desperate and so are you. Your loud moans ricochet off of the bedroom walls as you finally burst all over his face and the bed, that bubble inside of you finally popping. Your boyfriend greedily slurps up your cum, loving how you grind your pussy more against his face in an effort to ride out your orgasm. One of your hands leaves his hair to grab one of your titties and massage it, your body, mind, and soul in the throes of pleasure…and your first orgasm of 2025.
When your orgasm finally fades and the fog clears, you are left with the pink elephant in the room: you just told Dabi you loved him. You peer down at him and see him already staring at you, his lips coated in your juices. For a split second, all is silent and slightly awkward as the L-word, forbidden and messy, hangs in the air. “So did you mean it?” he finally asks. “When you said you loved me? It wasn’t just sex talk?”
You notice how intense yet soft his eyes have become. Gone is the arousal and desire that was in them before, replaced with a vulnerability that you’ve never seen in Dabi. You immediately sit up, your hair a mess and still panting slightly from your orgasm. “Why are you asking me this?” you softly ask. “Is this why you woke me up?”
Dabi suddenly looks away, appearing conflicted. You patiently wait for him to continue, not wanting to push him. “You know I’m not good at words, babe,” he sighs. “So I tried to show you.”
You put a hand on his, letting him know that you’re here and listening. “Show me what?” you gently coax him. Your heart is hammering so hard that you can hear it throbbing.
Your boyfriend nervously gnaws on his bottom lip, toying with his lip ring. “That I…really fucking love you, babe,” he finally confesses. His expression softens, revealing all of himself to you. All of his past. All of his emotions. All of him. “I do. I always have.” You sit in shock, your brain sluggishly processing his words. “Say something,” he quietly begs.
You exhale, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I’m sorry, I thought I passed out when I came.” Dabi scoffs and rolls his eyes at your dramatic self. “You’re so stupid,” he snorts. “And adorable.” He moves closer to you and presses a hand to your cheek, wanting to look at you always. “Tell me again.”
You are helpless to deny him, especially under his touch. “I love you too, Dabi,” you whisper. He leans in and presses a deep, passionate kiss to your lips that steals your breath away and renders you speechless. “Again,” he murmurs.
“I love you.” The words sound so natural to you now. He moans into the kiss and his body relaxes under your roaming hands as if he has finally be freed. He kisses you deep, slow, and sloppily, sliding his tongue along yours. “Again.” He growls it as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, gently popping it back into place before pressing his lips to your neck.
“I…oh, fuck, I love you so much.” The words are exhaled in a rush as your head tilts back, allowing him to press more kisses to your skin. He smiles against your skin, pulling away to give you a view of that glint in his eye. “Yeah?” he teasingly whispers. “You love me? What else do you love about me, baby?”
Your eyes fall down to where the duvet is covering his lower half. You smile up at him, staring up at him through your lashes. “Whip it out and I’ll show you,” you purr. Dabi does exactly that, drawing the duvet down to reveal his toned stomach etched in scars and tattoos, muscular thighs, and a big, throbbing cock curved so it leans over towards you as if it is desperate for your holes.
No matter how many times you’ve seen this cock, you always react the same way: in astonishment and awe. Mostly because this beautiful piece of work is yours to suck, fuck, and stroke as much as you want. Dabi bites his lip in anticipation as he watches you admire his appendage, letting his hands lazily fall at his sides. “Well? You just gonna stare or are you gonna do what you were plannin’ on?”
You don’t need to be told twice. After squirting some lube in your hands and warming the substance up in your hands, you begin to stroke Dabi’s cock in your soft, smaller hands. You watch his face as you do it, loving how his eyes roll to his skull and his head tilts back in pleasure. “Ah,” he sighs, the sound leaving his body as if trapped there for ages.
He grows harder in your hands like magic, his cum-filled balls dangling prettily for you. Desperate, you attach your lips to his cockhead and lightly suck on it, twirling your tongue around every sensitive part of him, including his piercing. “Shit,” he hisses through his white teeth, watching you through blue slits for his eyes.
You take him deeper into your wet mouth, the taste of artificial cherries and him popping onto your tongue as you do. You stare deep into his eyes as you suck on his cock, bobbing your head up and down and breathing through your nose as you do.
He never takes his eyes off of you even though you can see that the pleasure is too good. One of his hands laces through your hair, gently grasping your scalp as you bob up and down on his cock, your tongue swirling along his shaft. After some more wet sucking, he slowly pulls out of your mouth, causing a line of spit to connect your bottom lip to his head.
“Open your mouth,” he demands. You do so, shivering in delight at the demanding, low tone of his voice.
He leans down to give you a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, no matter the fact that his dick was just in your mouth, and then spits a wallop of his saliva onto your tongue. “Now spit on it.”
You do so, spitting everything he just gave you back onto his cock, making it nice, sloppy, and wet. Seeing his cock dripping in saliva and lube makes your pussy gush between your soft, juicy thighs. You can’t resist going back for seconds and Dabi welcomes it.
His groans and guttural growls are delicious to your eardrums. You relish each one as you turn tricks with your mouth, swirling your tongue around his shaft before taking him deep into your throat. You go slow, letting your throat stretch around his thick cock, expanding it by opening it further on a fake yawn.
“Fuck, V, you’re so good at that, baby,” Dabi groans, gripping your hair for dear life. “God, this mouth is so fuckin’ tight!”
You stare up into his eyes as he begins to slowly fuck your throat, filling the tight, wet space over and over again, bit by bit, inch by inch. “That’s a cute lil’ face on ya, baby V,” he chuckles, staring down at you in utter adoration. “You like suckin’ on this big cock, don’t you? It’s just what you needed to ring in the new year right, hm?”
You can only gag in response, all words ceasing to exist. You can’t even think about anything other than his cock as his thrusts grow rougher and more intense, his pelvis flush against your lips. He inhales a sharp intake of breath as if the pleasure is painful and too much to handle. “That’s it, take it,” he encouragingly hisses. “Fuckin’ take that shit. Good girl.”
He uses your throat like it’s a toy and you welcome all of it, sneaking your fingers down between your thighs to frantically rub at your clit. At the feeling of your throat flexing around him, Dabi grins, his face flushed and his eyes hooded. “So you want my cum, hm?” he asks, trailing a hand over your cheek. He pulls his cock out of your mouth, groaning when the wet tip lightly slaps you against the mouth and bobs against his lower stomach.
“Where do you want it, doll?” he whispers. “In you? On you? Whatever you want, just tell me.” He taps his cock against your lips, coaxing you to open up so he can rub the head along your tongue. The lewd act draws a moan out of both of you, anticipating more.
The promise of getting his cum, wherever, however, is enough to make you cream on the spot. “Anywhere,” you whimper. “I just want you to fuck me.”
Dabi grips your chin and tilts it up to give you a wet kiss on your lips, the both of you sharing each other’s tastes. Dabi just loves the taste of his cock on your tongue. It makes a primal fire explode inside of him. One that can only be snuffed out by stuffing his cock inside of you and making you his for good.
And finally, he does. When you’re on your back and he is mounting you like he owns you, bending your knees so his hips are flush against yours, drilling his cock in and out of your wet heat, you both are conscious of the fact that he has never fucked you like this: so deep, so rough, and so wanton. Mating press is something Dabi has always wanted to do and you, panting and moaning underneath him, are inclined to have him do it every single time you’re together.
You grip his forearms for dear life, sinking your glittery, purple fingernails into his skin as he pounds your cunt into the bed. The bedsprings sing underneath your bodies, creaking and bouncing in time with Dabi’s pistoned thrusts. With every second, his cock sinks deeper into you, his pelvis thumping against your clit and making pleasure crackle throughout your veins.
“God, Dabi!” you wail. “Baby, w-wait! You have to–”
“Slow down?” he chuckles. He hovers above you, his handsome face flushed and his blue eyes hooded with lust. “Not a fuckin’ chance, doll. M’sorry, but ya just look too goddamn cute takin’ that dick for me.” He takes your hands and pins them above your head, holding you down as he gives you his dick over and over and over again, drilling that spot that makes your mouth fall agape and your brain turn to mush.
Dabi is loving every second of this shit. Seeing your face contort in ecstasy and hearing all of those pretty sounds escape your mouth are better than morning coffee to him. “Is this what you needed? Hm, some nice cock from your boyfriend to perk ya up? A deep dickin’ down to ring in the new year?”
The squelching sounds of his cock stroking your wet walls mix with your joint moans and the bedsprings, creating a symphony of sex. “Yes!” you sob. Then again, like a mantra, as Dabi pounds your pussy into the mattress like a jackhammer: “Yes, yes, yes!”
That is all you can think of as Dabi takes you on a ride to Pleasureville right next to Pound Town, helping your body reach heights of pleasure that should be illegal.
“C-Can’t…can’t f-fuck…oh, God, Dabi,” you pant. Your words are a jumbled, babbling mess as you bounce on his dick, your gorgeous tits jiggling in time with his thrusts.
He takes one hand off of your wrist, pining them down with one hand instead, and uses his free hand to swirl this thumb over your lips. You instinctively open your mouth to suck on his thumb, much to his enjoyment.
“Shhh, just shut up, doll,” he coos. “Pretty dolls don’t talk…god, this pussy is fuckin’ good.” He hisses in pleasure as your cunt flexes and pulses around him, pulling him in deeper and deeper until you both have no choice in the matter of cumming anymore. “I can tell you’re close,” he groans. “You wanna cum for me, baby? You wanna cum all over this dick?”
He takes his thumb out of your mouth, wanting to hear you say those pretty words to him. “Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, please.” You can’t take anymore. Your pussy is on the ledge, threatening to jump into a sea of euphoria.
He then leans down so his nose is centimeters away from yours, his breath fanning your face as his cock sinks deeper inside of you. “Then you’d better tell me somethin’ first,” he growls. “Tell me that this pussy is mine. Say it out of your mouth.” His thrusts grow slow but are still deep and hard, drawing loud moans out of you and plap-plap-plaps from his thighs hitting yours.
“C’mon, sugar, is it mine?” he teases. “Say it’s mine and I’ll let ya cum. C’mon, open that pretty mouth up and tell me.” He grins wickedly, knowing that you will do anything to cum. His body shivers in anticipation of hearing those words. Those words that will be the end for him and no doubt make him bust deep inside of your pussy, possibly breeding you and locking you down for good.
“It’s yours!” you wail. “It’s all yours, Daddy! This pussy is always yours!” And you mean it. No man could ever make your pussy; your body; your heart; your soul feel this good. You want to be his. You want him to take you and make it so you can never look at another man the same way you look at him.
The smile that crosses Dabi’s lips is full of joy. It’s a beautiful look on him. “And this cock is yours, whenever and however you want it. Now are you gonna cum for me like a good slut?” He pauses, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing, making that pretty mouth turn into an O as you gasp. “Like my good slut?” he whispers.
“Y-Yes!” you moan out. “Yes, Touya, please! Make me cum with you!” At the mention of his birth name dripping from your honeyed lips, something snaps in Dabi and his body becomes a machine, his hips thrusting on their own. His movements draw loud moans, gasps, and sobs out of you and loud grunts out of him that grow desperate and needy the harder he goes.
“Gonna fill my baby up,” he gasps. “Gonna give this pussy a creampie it’ll never fuckin’ forget!”
‘Do it!’ you think in your blanked-out mind. ‘Give it to me! Fill me up!’
And then all thoughts cease to exist as your second orgasm washes over you, making your cunt squeeze around Dabi as you cum. A long moan escapes your lips as your eyes flutter closed and your back arches, all of your senses sharpened as your orgasm rocks your world. Your beautiful reaction triggers Dabi’s own orgasm and with a guttural moan, he cums with you. A stream of his spunk escapes his balls and enters you, flooding your pussy with as much as he can give you.
Dabi leans down to swoop you up in a heated, sloppy, passionate kiss as he continues to rut into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while he chases the lingering high of his, his hips rolling against yours. You widen your legs more, wanting him closer than two people could be. You gasp as his cum floods you, warm and wet and…cozy. It gives you a tingling sensation that makes you feel right…like this was supposed to happen.
Finally exhausted, Dabi pauses his thrusts and pulls his lips away from you before leaning up to assess the “damage” he did to you. You lay there, panting and sweaty, your hair a wreck, and your skin aglow. When he pulls out, slow and steady, his cum drips out of you, sticking to your thighs and staining the bed. “Now would you look at that,” he tuts. “Dirty girl. Now I’m gon’ have to clean ya up.”
Without another word, he ducks between your thighs to slurp his and your cum mixture out of you, gently lapping at your pussy. “Ha,” you gasp, twitching at the tiny pulses that enter your muscles as his tongue drenches your overly-sensitive cunt. “I-I need to clean you up too, babe.”
Smirking at you, he sits up and leans back, letting you slurp your juices off of his cock. Your tongue is loving and your sucking is greedy, needing to taste every bit of you off of him. “Good girl,” he coos, winding his hands in your hair. “I love you so much.” Hearing those words makes feel high, your body feeling light as a feather.
Finally, you two lay together in the afterglow and the morning sun drenching your bedspread, legs intertwined and your head on his chest. “Well, now you’re stuck with me, it seems,” Dabi chuckles. “I hope you’re okay with that.” His hand runs from your ass up your spine, tracing shapes along your skin.
You nuzzle into his chest, breathing in his intoxicating musk. “Oh, I’m more than okay with it,” you sigh. “That was absolutely amazing. I love sex with you.” You tilt your head up to press a kiss to his cheek. “And I love you,” you whisper into his ear.
You feel him smile against your lips and he turns his head down to press a kiss to your lips. “I love you too, doll.” You smile, closing your eyes and falling back into his chest, into his arms, wanting so much to spend the day like this.
“And I love your shower,” he whispers, making you guffaw into his chest. For the rest of the morning of the new year, you and Dabi spend it together with a hot shower, some piping coffee with eggs, and then a marathon of trash TV on your couch. And it’s perfect.
THE END.
#black fanfic writer#smutty smut#my works#black coded reader#black writers#bnha smut#dabi x black!reader#dabi x y/n#dabi x fem!reader#plus sized reader
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Hiiiii your fics that I have read so far are literally AMAZING. Ngl your my new fav author on here my goodness those stories were making my stomach turn.
Could you please do a Tom Kaulitz 2007 smut, him and reader have to share a room unwillingly. The reader starts playing with his hair and he is low-key into it 😋 You take it from there queen because you are so creative it’s crazy.
THANK YOU SO MUCH 😘😘
"One Bed". Feat. Tom Kaulitz
YES! of course i can do this! i'm glad you enjoy my writing! i also kind of tweaked this a bit to go with another request for an enemies to lovers vibe w/ tom...honestly i love the one bed trope!! (sorry, this is coming out later than intended!!)
summary: not too long ago, you caught your (ex) boyfriend Tom at the bar with another woman. you were pretty pissed, and you still are. but you two agreed to travel together to see a mutual friend as long as you stay separated. however, you did not anticipate the room shortage...
warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, hotel sex, p in v, unprotected, slight edging, overstimulation, use of toys, degradation (slut, whore, etc.), praise, kinda mean Tom, he's sweet sometimes though?, cervix fucking, spanking, squirting, pretty much brat taming, creampie, you think he cheated but he didn't
"What the hell do you mean there's not enough rooms?! I paid for two!" your patience was wearing thin with the poor desk attendant who claimed there was a "room shortage for the holidays". Bullshit. "Ma'am, I've already explained this to you. We overbook expecting some cancelations. It's better for business this way." The woman at the desk was making sure to keep her distance from you. Your stance looked like you were about to leap over the desk and pounce on her at any second now. "Good for business-!?" You were cut short by none other than Tom Kaulitz, your cheating ex-boyfriend, lightly grasping your arm, afraid that if he put too much pressure you might seriously swing at him. You gave him the nastiest glare, he swore it pierced his soul. "Hey, there's no use in yelling at this poor lady. Let's just go to our room. It'll only be a night. I can sleep on the floor." He spoke in a gentle tone, this managed to ease your nerves a bit. You removed your sprawled hands from the desk, giving the desk attendant one final glare. You were also not too thrilled that he took her side. You grabbed your key and made your way to the elevator, Tom trailing behind.
You and Tom hadn't spoken a word since getting to your room. It truly was a small, one bed hotel room. Right when you set your bag down on the (quite hard) couch, you flopped down onto it with a exaggerated groan. "Okay I think you need to calm down. I get it, you would rather not be doing this. But can't you take a day to-" You quickly cut him off, still angry with him. You were angry he had the nerve to tell you of all to "calm down". This made your anger bubble back up. "Calm down? Calm down?! How am I supposed to calm down when you're here? How am I supposes to calm down after what you did to me!? I don't want to fucking hear it from you. Go back downstairs and sleep with the little hotel girl from earlier since you like to take her side so much. Not that you ever took my side." Okay, admittedly you were being pretty petty, but you didn't care. Not when the events that transpired were so recent. About 1 month ago you caught Tom at a bar giggling with another girl because apparently he hadn't realized that's the bar you were having your girls night at. You screamed at him, threw a drink at his face, and hadn't spoken to him since. Tom stared at you for a second, he was trying to let you be angry at him. Because truthfully, he shouldn't have been so sneaky when he honestly wasn't doing anything wrong. He was at that bar to catch up with his brothers wife, but mentioning that fact would probably make you begin to spiral even more. He really didn't want another drink in his face. So, for now he decided to let you scream and yell at him all you wanted, even if the words you spoke couldn't be farther from the truth.
It had been about 5 minutes of you yelling, and you were now laying on the bed quite literally sobbing your little heart out. You couldn't take it, all of your pent up emotions were bursting out and making an ugly mess of you. You thought about how this was probably the reason why he decided to cheat on you. Tom just sat on the edge of the bed, lightly stroking your thigh. You apparently hadn't noticed, but your body was subconsciously leaning into his touch. Once your rapid breathing had slowed and your tears dried up leaving dried makeup streaks on your face, he finally spoke. "I didn't cheat on you." You almost laughed, "What?" He drew in a large breath before he continued, still treading lightly. "You never gave me a chance to talk. But trust me, I don't blame you. Please hear me out on this." Once he had gotten your silent sign of approval, he slowly continued, "That woman? That was my Bills wife. She was just in the area, and I wanted the chance to catch up with her. Ask her how things were going. All I talked about was you, every single question she had, the answer was always you. She even recorded a video on my phone for you of her saying hi. Please, believe me. I know I shouldn't have been so secretive, I know that's my fault. But just please. Here's the video." Tom pulled out his phone to show you the video of who you now noticed was Bill's wife in that same exact bar saying hi to you, and explaining how she hoped all was well with you.
Right after the video ended, your heart dropped so low as you looked up at him it almost fell out of your ass. I mean, you had met Bill's wife before, but you hadn't gotten a good glimpse of her at the bar. Only of the back of her head. You knew she was a nice woman, and you were starting to realize that you probably should've let Tom explain himself instead of throwing a drink in his face. But when he pulled the "Baby, it's not what it looks like" line, you almost lunged at him.
This whole thing just added more on top of the emotions you were already feeling, and you began to cry again. "Tom," you shook out as you pulled him into an embrace, finally being able to feel him again "I'm sorry." You swear you had never held onto anything so tight in your life, and he was seriously about to crush you as well. But it didn't really matter. All that mattered was, yeah, you both fucked up but at least you still had each other. That night was a long night of exchanging explanations, and setting up boundaries as to how to deal with situations like this again. As well as how to work on managing your emotions...
It was getting pretty late, and you had just came out of the shower to find Tom laying down on the small couch. "Are you serious? You don't have to do that... Come sleep with me." Tom turned over to look at you, a bit surprised you could forgive so quickly. That had never been apart of your personality. But he was exempt from this, he assumed. "You sure? If you don't-" You stopped him, "I'm sure." and gave him a sweet smile. The both of you crawled into bed, and got into the position you normally get into. He placed the side of his face on your breasts and you used one of your hands to play with his hair, feeling him relax into you. He whispered out a small "I love you" that you almost didn't catch. To let him know you heard him, you craned your neck down and pulled him into a sweet kiss. Well, the kiss started sweet.
Tom had been left to just his hand, lotion, and some shitty magazines for way too long now. He missed you. A lot. What was supposed to be a simple sweet kiss now had your back to him and him aggressively thrusting his cock into you. You let out a string of moans, trying to stabilize yourself by putting your hands on his thighs. His chest was flush with your back, and his thrusts were relentless. "Tom!" He knew you loved this angle, it allowed you to feel every inch of him buried deep inside you. "Yeah? That feel good, y/n?" One of his hands came down to rub at your clit. "Think I've given you enough time to throw your little tantrum, gotta put whores like you back in their place." His minstrations had you a moaning mess, and you could already feel your orgasm flatly approaching. "Ah-! P-please!" Your pussy clenched tightly around him, a sign he knew you were about to cum. Right when your soft walls began to flutter he completely stopped all motion. "W-what?" You were confused, and you whined at the loss of stimulation. "You forget? Brats like you have to ask nicely to cum. Then I'll consider." He landed a harsh slap on both cheeks of your ass, causing you to his. "Im sorry! Please! Please make me cum!" He rubbed over both red marks, attempting to slightly soothe them before beginning his pace again. This time, he was impatient. He flipped you over onto your back, sprawling you out onto the bed before he pushed in and out of you at a fast pace. You could feel every vein on his cock at this angle, and his tip was practically brushing up against your cervix. The painful pleasure was almost too much, and you just barely remembered to ask to cum. "P-please, can I cum? Please, please please..." You were just babbling nonsense at this point, which made him laugh at the leverage he had over you. He leaned down, nipping the shell of your ear before he said "Cum for me, baby" and that was all the clearance you needed before you gushed all over his cock with a high pitched moan. All of your limbs twitched as he helped you ride out your high, your mind melting back down to earth. Your brain was still fuzzy, and you didn't catch how Tom leaned over to open the beside drawer, pulling out a small bullet vibrator. Once he waved it over top of you, your eyes widened. You obviously could think enough to understand what you were about to be subjected to, but not enough to question why it was in that drawer.
"Please" You mewled put, not sure if you were begging for him to use it on you or begging him not to. Either way, he turned it on, using it on the lowest setting as he rubbed it over your nipples. "Mh!" You let out a satisfied grunt at the stimulation being pressed to your nipples. Tom always worshipped every part of your body, and tonight he had neglected your nipples. The attention they were now receiving left you wanting more. You relaxed, parting your legs and letting the spread across the roughness of the hotel sheets. Tom trailed the small vibrator down the valley of your stomach, towards your already swollen clit. "Yeah, take it like the good slut you are. Just my cumdump, aren't you?" You nodded your head in agreement, making the best "Mhm" sound you could with how fried your brain was. You both knew this wasn't true. If you both were being completely honest, he was at your mercy. Tom pressed the vibrator up against your clit, and immediately started thrusting back into you. "Ah! Wait! T-Tom! Too much!" He laughed at you almost mockingly "You can do it. My sweet baby can do it." The way his tone could change at the drop of a hat only turned you on even more, and his sugar coated words coaxed you on to obeying him. "Ok... ok, just for -fuck- you." "Yeah, thats what I fucking thought." It didn't take too much longer for you to reach your high, and by the way you were squeezing him he knew, too. Tom decided you'd been through enough tonight and let you off easy this time. "My baby gonna cum on my cock? Come on, make a mess on me. Cum with me." Those words immediately flipped the switch inside of you, letting your pussy twitch around him and gush everywhere, making a mess all over his abdomen. Tom thrusted into you as deep as he could possibly go before cumming inside you. "Yeah, gonna take all the cum I give you." And you did, you took every last drop, squeezing him to milk him for everything he was worth.
The night ended with an exchange of soft kisses, giggles, whispers of sweet nothings, and a hot bath to ease your poor muscles. You might need a wheelchair for tomorrow.
Before you two left, Tom left a note on the bed thanking the hotel room attendant for bluffing for him, and left her some extra cash. He also apologized for the mess.
a/n: this was supposed to be released last night but I had other things going on! so sorry! but I hope you enjoyed! requests are still open, and if you've already sent one just know it's sitting in my drafts. remember to take care of yourself!
#tokio hotel smut#tom kaulitz smut#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz#tom kaulitz x y/n#fanfic#smut#tokio hotel x you#tokio hotel fanfic#tokio hotel x reader#x reader#kinda short sorry
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i talk a lot about the absolute horror that daniel went through in s2ep5 and how, all twink and gay jokes aside, just imagining that night and the 5 subsequent others from his perspective is CHILLING. but the other night i was thinking about nicki, and how his entire life was pretty much an absolute horror story, complete with the idyllic happy relationship at the start that completely dissolves into horror.
think about it, one morning you wake up and your boyfriend is just GONE. the only trace of him is the open window and the bedsheets thrown back. you wonder, what the fuck happened? did he leave me? surely not, we're on like, the third story? but the door is still locked... is he dead? your friends tell you not to worry, and that this is just lestat, especially when a few weeks later lavish gifts sent in his name arrive for you and your friends. they take it at face value and suggest he just got bored, as he so often does, but something just isnt right. and to make matters worse, you feel haunted by him, by his presence, you can up and down SWEAR you keep seeing him around.
and then one day he returns, and hes fine...? and everyone is so happy to see him but hes a bit. weird. and they push him out on the stage and the next thing you know the audience is fleeing and your ears are ringing. you cant make heads or tails of this, so you follow him as he runs into a box, only to see him get shot. your ears are still ringing but youre pretty sure you screamed, and he didnt even flinch. he just stands there, like a walking corpse, and smokes vaguely from the wound. and then hes gone again, and youre still not convinced it wasnt a horrible dream, still not convinced youre not being haunted by a vengeful spirit in the shape of someone you loved.
well maybe you could get passed that. (not really). but maybe. maybe your life could possibly return to some sense or normality, shrouded by grief but nothing that you cant recover from. and then something worse, YES, WORSE! happens. something beyond nightmares. something passed describing. as youre taken kicking and screaming by a horde of... what even are they??? corpses??? husks??? suddenly this starts to make a little bit of sense, in the way that you were trying to be reasonable about this entire situation, and theres absolutely nothing reasonable or sane about it in the first place. and your boyfriend is, predictably, at the centre of it (because he always is) and now whatever hes got up to, whatever supernatural fucked up bullshit hes been dealing with, has started spilling over into your life and may just be the cause of your death.
well finally, after that fuzzy but harrowing ordeal, he takes you... home? to a dark and cold stone tower on the edge of paris? and holds you and talks to you and you think he still loves you, you think he thinks nothing has changed and that youre fine and this is fine and everythings fine, and that just pisses you off. but he holds you and talks to you and maybe you nod and agree with something. maybe you shouldntve, because then shit gets WEIRD and after everything, EVERYTHING youve been through your emotions start to spill over, and youre a vampire now, and you didnt really want to be, oh and vampires are real, and you didnt want any of this, you wanted to play violin in the theatre with your boyfriend, but now everythings fucked and youre the tragedy of a gothic horror. youre the tragic waste, you were doomed from the start, from the moment you stepped foot in paris or picked up that violin, it was already over.
and sure enough, after misery and torture and more misery and madness, long after youve accepted your position, accepted his, you make up your mind and seek out ways to bring the immortal to mortality. maybe you can finally find peace in this insanity. and the only way to do that is to leap into your own funeral pyre.
#now THATS what i call gothic horror#nicki insanity speed run any percent#iwtv#interview with the vampire#iwtv spoilers#iwtv s2#amc iwtv s2#iwtv spoiler#lestat de lioncourt#nicholas de lenfent#nicki de lenfent#nickistat#nicki iwtv#iwtv nicki#lestat iwtv#iwtv lestat#the vampire lestat#tvl#the vampire chronicles#tvc
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rating: gen cw: nothing i can think of tags: steddie as dads, sometime in the future, happily married, bickering as a sign of love, steve harrington needs to argue with someone, family game night, fluff, sweet stuff, word count: 993
written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "fairy tales"
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“Remember that one promise I made you when we got married?” Eddie asked, walking into the kitchen Steve was cleaning.
“I remember them all. You mow the lawn a lot less than you said you would.”
“That’s because you’re so particular!”
“Don’t you dare. It’s because you don’t want to rake up the clippings, dude. You know that, I know that, but it’s so necessary.”
“It’s not,” Eddie glared at Steve’s back, steam coming out of his ears as he tried to get himself back on track. “That’s not the one I mean, either.”
“Can you…be more specific then? I feel like me guessing is just asking for a fight.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m going for.”
Steve turned around, bubbles up to his elbows and eyes bright enough to light the darkest caves. “Are you? Because I’ve been pissed off about that fucking grocery store bullshit all day and I could-I could just really, I mean. Oh my god, it would be so nice to yell and fight.”
“You already yelled at them,” Eddie threw his hands in the air, they were never going to make it to the point here but now he was feeling a bit guilty for getting Steve’s hopes up like that.
“I don’t feel any better,” Steve said plainly, shrugging his shoulders and looking at Eddie like he should understand.
Rather than respond, Eddie stayed quiet long enough that Steve knew he wasn’t getting the needed fight. He turned back to the dishes and took his frustration out on the spaghetti sauce-soaked plates.
Eddie knew he had to tread carefully. Steve was ready to go and it wasn’t going to take much now that Eddie had dangled the carrot.
“Okay, so I mean the part where I said I’d never ask you to fill in during dnd…again.”
“We learned that lesson in the worst way.”
“The closest I ever came to thinking we’d break up was after that,” Eddie nodded. They both paused for the flashback of that argument.
“I sense a ‘but’ coming though.”
“Well, not a ‘but’ so much as a technicality? We agreed you’d never fill in but nothing was said about just joining a campaign. From the beginning.”
“Do you think that’d go any better?”
“I do!” Eddie said, leaping across the kitchen to get into Steve’s space. “Because it wouldn’t be any campaign. I wouldn’t even invite the guys.”
“Just me and you? I don’t want to play pretend sitting around with you. That’s why you still have the Hellfire Club. Go play with them.”
Eddie sucked in a breath but held his words there for a second. “What about the kids?”
Again, it stopped Steve’s dishwashing and he looked at Eddie. It wasn’t a no but it was an invitation to say more. Eddie had to play this very carefully. This was closer than he expected to get.
Their kids were old enough, in Eddie’s opinion, to try their hands at Dungeons and Dragons. At nine and five, it wouldn’t be the full by-the-book campaign. An introduction to the core concepts though, an easy campaign with a focus around things they love, and the safety of their dads.
Eddie just had to get Steve on board.
“Okay, so I’ve spent the past month or so writing down what I could remember of those fairy tales you used to make up as bedtime stories. You’re actually really good at storytelling and you know how much they both loved them.”
Steve sighed, rinsing his hands off and giving Eddie his undivided attention. Reluctantly but Steve didn’t do much enthusiastically. Eddie knew how to read this and how to move forward.
“Well, they’re an amazing basis for a campaign. We could just putt around in our own little fairy tale world and learn the rules, fight a troll, and work together. It’d be chill, I promise. More about learning than anything else.”
“So why do you need me? Can't you just play with the kids?”
“I could. I will if you really don’t want to, though I might bring in Will and Gareth for numbers if that’s the case. But I want you there. They’re your stories and I think it’d be fun to finally play with you after all this time. We’ve got a short window where the kids are learning before they either get too good or don’t want to play.”
“You have…really thought about this,” Steve laughed.
“Actually, yeah, but it’s all sincere. It’s the perfect time to bring you into this with a perfect exit. It doesn’t need you so if you don’t want to, it’s fine, but I’d love to do this as a family. Something, something practicing safe dice rolls at home first,” Eddie tried to laugh, knowing the joke wouldn’t land and that it was barely formed.
Steve folded and unfolded the towel he’d dried his hands with, thinking this over. “For the kids,” he finally said.
Eddie’s mouth dropped open, the statement ping-ponging around his brain as he tried to process if it was, in fact, a statement and not a question. Then he said “No fucking way,” with several different inflections.
Before Eddie could vibrate out of the room, Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “I have a no-questions-asked exit though. If it gets anywhere close to what happened last time, I leave the game, you write me out, and we never, ever, ever try again, okay?”
“Yeah! Of course! I mean, I’d expect nothing less!! So, alright, you always told stories about this prince, did you see him as a fighter or what?”
Before the question finished, Eddie darted out of the kitchen to grab a notebook. He had pages of questions for Steve. This would take a lot of working out between them before bringing in the kids but Eddie was willing to do the work and Steve could keep doing chores. It was perfect. This was all going to be so perfect.
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