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uncouth-the-fifth · 3 years

Note

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x you #robin smut #robin #dc smut #dc comics #dc #user uncouth

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t0wnspersonb · 4 years

Text

Practice Makes Perfect (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 3,823

Warnings: SMUT, loss of virginity, bad language, Tsukki being too damn beautiful.

Summary: It’s been several months after Tsukishima’s confession in the infirmary. You two are dating now, and after a study session in his room, you two decide to take your relationship to the next level.

~~~

I hear you guys! I fucking see you!😂 we all need some Tsukki smut in our life so here is part 2 of Kiss it Better, I’ve included the link for anyone who hasn’t read the first part. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love the feedback afterwards:)

ALSO. I AM TAKING REQUESTS. I know I have some sitting in my inbox right now that I need to get to still so I apologize in advance if I can’t get your request out right away. But I literally adore all of you so much. Thank you for taking the time to read my shit writing:’) Anyway please enjoy the shit show lol.

~~~

It had been several months since you and Tsukishima started going out, after his confession in the infirmary, and after you guys had walked home together – well – things just naturally fell into place.

It felt like your interactions were the same, he was still a cocky little asshole, teasing you and harassing you endlessly.

But it was different somehow. You guys were almost inseparable it seemed. There were sides to Tsukishima that only you got to see, an unsaid trust that went both ways. You confided in him, sought comfort in him, and he did the same. He was your person, and you were his.

You hadn’t realized how same and different it would be once you guys were in a relationship.

But you loved it all.

You loved every second of it.

You loved him.

You were in love with him, and while it was something that neither of you had said yet, that feeling was definitely there.

It was said through his endless lectures on how you needed to eat better, it was said through the way he held your hand, or when he carried your bag. It was said in the way that his eyes gleamed when you proudly showed him the latest photos you had taken.

It was said in the way that you praised him for being an amazing blocker in volleyball, it was said when you would give him a new dinosaur figurine. It was said when you would introduce him to a new song that reminded him of you.

No, you guys had never uttered the words ‘I love you’ to each other, but you did.

He did.

And that was all that mattered.

Right now, you two were currently cleaning up the classroom together, since it was your week to clean.

You guys easily conversed with one another as you wiped down the blackboard and Tsukishima swept.

“– because of those dimwits we had to do twice as many drills.” Tsukishima said, finishing his story on how exhausting yesterday's volleyball practice had gone.

“Kageyama and Hinata sure are energetic.” You mused, pausing your wiping to glance over at the tall blonde in amusement.

He sighed and looked over at you, “They’re idiots. They act like everyone has the same amount of stamina as them. It’s ridiculous.”

You couldn’t help the soft laughter that bubbled up from your lips. “I think you’re just lazy Tsukki.”

His eyes narrowed, but not at your comment, but at what you had called him. He had told you weeks ago to start calling him by his first name, considering that you guys have been dating for a while now.

He leaned the broom against one of the desks and walked over to you. You were near the teacher’s desk as you surveyed your work. He moved in front of your vision, towering over your small frame, causing you to crane your neck back to just look at his face.

He moved closer, his palm resting on the desk behind you, trapping you in.

“What’s the matter Tsukki?” you asked in confusion, your head tilting to the side.

His eyes narrowed further, a frown creasing his lips. “I told you to start calling me Kei.”

A soft blush covered your face as you broke the eye contact with him, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous.

“I – I know. It’s just a force of habit.” You mumbled quickly, shifting from foot to foot.

Tsukishima couldn’t help but smirk, leaning in closer to you, causing your back to press into the edge of the desk as you tried to put more distance between the two of you.

“Why are you acting so nervous?” he murmured, the hand not resting on the table coming up to move your hair over your shoulder.

You visibly flinched, which caused his smirk to widen as he saw the blush coating your face.

“I’m not nervous stupid!” you fired back, looking at him now. “You’re just too close!”

You could feel your heart racing, your palms accumulating sweat.

“I’ve been closer.” he said simply and pressed his body against yours, one of his thighs coming to rest between your legs. This caused your skirt ride further up your thighs, and you couldn’t help but clutch at the front of his uniform helplessly as you attempted to stabilize yourself.

Tsukishima wasn’t lying, he had been closer. Many times, in fact, in the comfort of his bedroom. While you guys had never actually had sex, it had gotten close.

If Tsukishima was being honest, it was because he couldn’t help himself. Your expressions were just too much, the sounds that escaped your mouth were incredibly sweet, it made him want more. Every time.

But the same could be said about you. Tsukishima was incredibly good looking, his lust filled expressions drove you insane, and the way he made you feel was just too good.

“S-Shut up idiot.” You moved to push him away from you, but he was already cupping your face and tilting your head up for a kiss.

You melted against him, kissing him back with vigor. You all but breathed want and need into his lungs as Tsukishima explored the wet cavern of your mouth, his tongue hot and wet as it rubbed against yours gently.

The kisses you shared always spoke volumes with how you were feeling. They ranged from short and sweet, to something incredibly passionate and needy.

Either one, they always left you breathless and needy, your head spinning with so much want and need.

Tsukishima’s grip on your jaw tightened ever so slightly as he continued to explore your mouth. His tongue tracing over your teeth and bottom lip before going back to massage your own tongue. You were at his will completely, not that you minded. Not that you could even think about anything else other than the way he was making you feel.

The leg between your thighs shifted suddenly and you felt yourself being pressed against his clothed thigh in the most intimate way. A surprised noise could be heard in your throat, and desire rippled through your body like a tidal wave.

Tsukishima pulled back slightly, allowing his lips to flutter against your jaw and down your throat. His fingers working at the buttons of your uniform.

You were left feeling delirious and incredibly achy. Your grip on his uniform tightening as you tried to get your bearings.

You finally realized where you were.

School.

You couldn’t do this here.

“Tsuki - ah - shima. S-Stop, we can’t do this here.” You gasped out, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as he nipped at the exposed skin of your collarbone, and at the same time pressed himself harder against your core. His hands were now on your hips, and at the same time that he pressed his thigh closer to you, he had moved your body forward, causing you to grind against him.

Pleasure rippled through your being; you knew that you were soaking wet right now. It was unfair how well he touched you, how he knew how to make you hot and bothered.

“I told you to call me Kei.” he murmured and dragged your body against his thigh again. A delicious gasp escaping your spit stained lips.

“K-Kei. We c-can’t do this.” You whimpered out. “W-We could get caught. A-And if y-you’re late to practice, you know that Yamaguchi will be sent out to find you.”

He sighed deeply, and reluctantly pulled away from you, adjusting himself accordingly. You were right. He didn’t want anyone seeing you like that, that was for his eyes only.

It was so hard for him to not want to continue after he saw your disheveled form. It was fucking beautiful. Your lips were swollen with his kisses, your shirt unbuttoned, exposing the dark mark he had left on your soft skin. Your skirt was hiked up on your thighs, and your face was dazed with want and need.

Tsukishima gritted his teeth, stopping himself from pushing you up on that desk and having his way with you finally.

It was silent as you guys made yourselves presentable and finished cleaning up the classroom. The tension was thick in the air, lust buzzing in the air between you two.

Club activities flew by and so did the walk home. The tension never disappeared between the two of you, which had made Yamaguchi a bit nervous as you all walked home together. Of course, he wasn’t aware of what had transpired in the classroom, nor could he decipher what exactly the tension was, but he could feel the strange energy between the two of you.

“You’re coming over tomorrow right?” Tsukishima finally said as he dropped you off at home.

“Yeah. I definitely need help studying for that math test next week.” you sighed frowning slightly.

“That’s why you need to take better notes in class. You can’t just keep drawing like a mindless idiot all the time.” Tsukishima said, causing you to scowl at him.

“Whatever asshole! Goodnight! Text me when you get home. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” You said childishly slamming the door in his face.

At least some things would never change between you two.

***

You grumbled under your breath as you attempted the math problem in front of you.

You were in Tsukishima’s room, the said male was currently reading a book, sitting across the table from you and ignoring you completely as you struggled.

“I don’t get it.” You sighed, slouching your upper body on the tabletop. You hated math. It was your worst subject despite the good grades that you got.

His eyes flickered over to your dejected form before going back to his book. “Whining about it isn’t going to change anything.”

You scowled at his blunt statement, pulling your head up from the table, you stuck your tongue out at him. “Don’t be such an insensitive jerk.”

His eye twitched at your statement as he looked at you once more. Before he could retort his older brother entered the room carrying a plate of snacks.

“I thought you guys could use some food.” he said brightly, carefully placing the plate of food on the table.

Your mood brightened immediately. “Thanks, Akiteru!”

Tsukishima felt his eye twitch further, so you could easily call his brother by his first name but not his.

His brother smiled back, “No problem Y/n-chan! Ever since you and Kei started dating his mood has improved a lot!” he said, giving you a thumbs up.

Tsukishima slammed his book shut, placing it on the table and glowered at his older brother. “Don’t you have to go practice?”

He waved him off as he turned to look at you. “Who knew that Kei could get such a cute girlfriend!”

A soft blush coated your face much to Tsukishima’s annoyance, he stood up and began pushing his brother out of his room. As soon as he slammed the door shut and locked it, he turned his glare on you.

“S-Stop looking at me like that! I didn’t do anything.” You said nervously. He ignored you completely and took a seat right next to you, leaning in closer.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, your heart racing in your chest as he grabbed your chin, turning your head to look at him.

He was staring at you intensely. “You better pay close attention; I’m only going to help you go over this stuff once and if you miss any of the problems you can just go home.”

You frowned at his bluntness but nodded, nonetheless.

You weren’t sure how long it was, but you somehow finished the problems, and luckily didn’t get any of the answers wrong.

Tsukishima was surprisingly a good teacher. At least when he wanted to be, he was still incredibly impatient when teaching you, but you learned the material.

“Finally.” he muttered as you finished putting everything in your bag away, before you could say anything, he grabbed your arm and slammed his lips into yours.

You made a noise of surprise before kissing him back, eyes fluttering shut.

The kiss was hungry and desperate, his tongue prying your lips open and immediately beginning to fight your tongue for dominance. It was hot and wet and sent a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The hand that was resting on your arm slid up to grab your jaw, fitting his mouth against yours perfectly.

His other hand moved to rest in the middle of your back, and before you knew it your world shifted.

Tsukishima had maneuvered your body to the floor, hovering over you. The hand that was on your back moved back around and you felt long slender fingers wrap around the back of your knee, carefully hiking your leg over his hip.

This new position allowed Tsukishima to get closer to you. He pressed his body into yours gently, being sure not to crush you with his weight. He adored the softness of your body, and the sweet smell of your skin.

But it wasn’t enough.

He wanted more.

Tsukishima carefully snapped his hips forward, pressing his growing member against you. The only clothing separating him from your weeping core was a pair of thin panties.

He groaned against your lips, pressing harder against you. A soft whimper from you egged him on, he couldn’t help himself. He grinded his hips harder against you, his member uncomfortably hard and searching for some kind of relief.

His lips began trailing kisses along your jaw and down your throat, his fingers brushing against your collarbone, pushing your shirt away to reveal more skin.

You gazed up at his ceiling in a daze, softly gasping at each thrust of his hips, you could feel your panties dampening further with your arousal as you clutched at his shoulders.

“Take these off.” he demanded huskily in your ear. He tugged at your jacket and shirt, his fingers dipping underneath the fabric and brushing against the delicate skin at your stomach.

“You first.” you breathed out, your own hands sliding beneath the blue shirt he opted to wear today. The tips of your fingers trailing softly against the hard lines of his stomach, his skin was warm and soft, the muscles flexing as he exhaled in a shudder.

He sat back on the balls of his feet, his hands easily removing his shirt, tossing it behind him on the floor. He almost moaned at the sight before him.

You were sprawled out on the floor, legs bent slightly at the knee, your skirt was hiked up just below your panties. Your face was flushed red, your eyes half-lidded as you stared him with desire. Your chest heaving up and down.

“Your turn.” he said simply and helped you sit half up. But before you could even remove the clothing yourself, Tsukishima was already at it. Pulling the jacket off your shoulders and then tugging your shirt over your head, revealing the soft white colored bra to his greedy eyes.

“Fuck.” he whispered under his breath, you were fucking beautiful, and you were all his. “Come here.” he breathed, pulling you easily onto your feet and then pushing you down onto his bed, crawling on top of you.

You loved the way he looked at you, like you hung the moon. Like you were the brightest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. It made you feel wanted, loved, adored.

Tsukishima’s lips easily found yours once again, still needy and urgent. He was pressed against you between your legs once more, grinding softly against your soaked core.

His fingers trailing up softly from the hem of your skirt, up your stomach, to your ribs, and then they were cupping your right breast.

Kneading you softly through the cup of your bra. Like before, his lips began trailing kisses along your jaw, sucking at your throat, and then to the tops of your breasts.

His breath was hot and damp against your overheated flesh, his tongue flicking out to taste your soft skin. You tossed your head back in pleasure, unable to stop the sweet moans and gasps that were escaping your lips as he began sucking and biting.

“K-Kei.” You stuttered out, eyes slipping shut in pleasure. He glanced up at you and reached to pull one of the straps of your bra down, allowing one of your breasts to pop out freely.

He watched as your exposed nipple began to harden before softly engulfing the pebbled bud into the hot cave of his mouth.

Fuck, he’s never heard anything as sweet as the moans and high-pitched whines that escaped your swollen lips.

You couldn’t breathe, the pleasure was overwhelming as he began flicking his tongue back and forth against your nipple. The back of your hand resting over your mouth, attempting to quiet the moans that were escaping your lips. Tsukishima began rolling your nipple between his teeth carefully, causing you to arch your back off the bed.

Hot white pleasure shooting into your body, your lower half was on fire, burning with so much need. You had soaked through your underwear completely, and your cunt was throbbing to be touched now.

“Please.” You whined out, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “K-Kei. Please.”

He hummed against your breast, releasing your nipple with a soft pop before moving up and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“What do you want?” he asked, voice low and deep. But he already knew that answer, his fingers already dancing across the zipper of your skirt, easily opening it, and pulling it down your legs, where you kicked it off of your ankles.

Tsukishima could have cum in his pants then and there. You had luckily decided to wear a matching bra and panties today, but that wasn’t why he was in awe. He could visibly see how wet you were.

Your wetness soaked through your panties; a dark wet spot easily being spotted by the tall blonde.

“Is this because of me?” he murmured, a long finger gently rubbing up and down against the stain. “You’re soaked.” he breathed out, feeling the moisture collect on his finger.

“Kei.” a high-pitched whine left your lips. “I-I want you. Please.”

He exhaled loudly through his nose and began removing the rest of your clothes, his gold eyes drank in your exposed body greedily.

This. this was all his. You were all his.

He then removed the rest of his clothes; his body bare for your eyes to see.

Tsukishima was the most beautiful person you had ever laid your eyes on. The muscles in his body flexing as you took him in, and then… he was fucking hard. It looked incredibly painful, his member pulsing and leaking precum.

Gently parting your legs further, he carefully rubbed his member against your glistening slit, moaning at the wetness.

This was it.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, gazing at you with a gentle expression, his thumb rubbing softly against your knee.

You nodded, fearing that your voice would shake with the nerves you were experiencing, but the desire for Tsukishima overshadowed that. You wanted him.

He shook his head. “I need to hear you say it Y/n.”

“I want you Kei.” you said breathless. “I-I love you.”

You weren’t… fuck, you weren’t planning to say that. You could feel panic rising in your chest, your eyes widening as you took in his expression.

Tsukishima’s eyes were wide, his lips parted softly at your statement. A soft blush coating his face.

“I love you too.” he finally said, and then pushed his hips forward.

The sudden pressure below, the intrusion you weren’t used to had you gasping loudly, throwing your head back at the unfamiliar sensation.

The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, there was the slight fear at the back of your mind that it would hurt based on all the stories that you had heard from your friends and senpais.

It was just different… but fuck. The expression that was now on Tsukishima’s face wiped away any kind of discomfort you may have been in.

His face was contorted in pure bliss, his eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in pleasure. It was a beautiful sight.

You were the one making him feel that way, you were the one that was giving him all this pleasure. This was yours to keep, this moment.

You gasped softly as he began moving, carefully rocking his hips against yours. His cock rubbed against your velvety walls, reaching a depth within you that you didn’t even know you had.

“Y-You’re so tight.” He stuttered out. “Feel so good.” he praised and began moving in and out of you more.

You were getting used to the uncomfortable feeling of being full; and that’s definitely what you felt when Tsukishima was inside of you.

It started to feel… good actually.

Tsukishima must’ve realized that as well, his speed and force increasing a bit more. He reached down and carefully began circling your clit with his thumb.

Oh fuck. No, that was good. That was really good. Your body jolted in pleasure, a soft whine escaping your lips.

“I’m close.” Tsukishima said panting, his eyes began to focus on your expression, wanting you to feel just as much pleasure as he was.

You were beautiful. You were so fucking beautiful, naked, and gasping, taking his cock so well. He gritted his teeth, hastily removing himself from your weeping core. Tsukishima grasped at his member tightly and thrusted twice into his fist before spilling himself onto your lower belly.

His cum was hot and thick as it splattered onto your skin, you had never seen anything more perfect than the way Tsukishima looked coming undone.

You couldn’t help but stare at him as he came down from his high. His blonde hair was disheveled, sweat gleamed on his pale skin, outlining the hard muscles in his arms and stomach.

When he finally opened his eyes they immediately softened as they took in your spent form.

“Hold on.” he murmured softly and got up to find a towel, carefully cleaning up the mess he made on your stomach.

You couldn’t help but to continue laying there, exhausted despite the fact that you hadn’t done much. After Tsukishima finished taking care of you, he pulled the blanket on the edge of the bed up as he laid next to you. You moved closer to the blonde male, resting your head against his chest, his fingers began combing through your hair.

“I’m sure that wasn’t good for you.” he said quietly, after a moment of comfortable silence. “But I plan on making you feel good every time from now on.”

“It was good.” You said softly, on the verge of sleep. “We just need more practice… like volleyball.”

Tsukishima laughed softly against your hair. “Shut up stupid. Go to sleep.”

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima smut #smut #fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #reader insert #haikyuu x you #imagines #tsukishima haikyuu #tsukishima kei smut #requests are open

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alicia-kingdom · 3 years

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Uchiha Center Part 2

_._._._._._. A FEW HOURS BEFORE_._ _._._._ UCHIHA COMPOUND

Oh, Uchiha Izuna was pissed. How can he not be? Months have passed since the blood moon incident, his cute little troublemaker Kagami has yet to stop spreading the awesome tale of how the white goddess came alongside her 5 leopards and save him and the group that was kidnaped. At first, nobody listen to Kagami, the Elders demanded complete silence regarding Senju Tobirama and her involvement in saving the kids. After all, they can't have the complete clan, a clan who values children more than anything, know the enemy saved their precious children. Amateratsu-sama forbids her clan to have another reason to enter into peace agreements with the filthy Senjus. What the Elders never consider or just forgot was that little Kagami had as much blood as any Uchiha and as stubborn as his eldest cousins (some may say he was even more than Izuna and Madara at that age) and he spread the word and now, by his side the other kids who were kidnaped. All of them shouting praises to the "White Angel" or "Leopard Lady" and demanding any adult that hears them let them meet her one more time to thank her. This, of course, causes a domino effect. The kids told the story to anyone who listens, and of course, because adults are idiots, they told them to other kids who now were extremely curious and jealous and want to meet this White Goddess. What do you get from all of that, you asked? Well, you get the Clans whole new generation demanding the White Demoness be their sensei and guardian. Well, it seems there will be peace eventually. Now. Why was Izuna so pissed off? Sure, having the new Uchiha generation been evangelized by Kagami was annoying, but worth it to see those Elders' faces go red in rage but can't lift a finger against any children if they want their heads to remain in their necks. So nope, this was not why Izuna was pissed of. It was a more simple and annoyingly complicated subject. An Uchiha Center, and not any Uchiha Center, but his own brother and clan head Uchiha Center. Turns out Senju Tobirama, his rival, his annoying thorn in his side, his pain in the ass enemy was his brother's center. Of course, he knew how this could be a very good thing for Madara, he still dreams of peace and a village where no children die, no women bury her son or daughter, no Uchiha losses his or her Center. This could be the solution and the door that could lead all of that. Izuna was not on board with that idea, but that...this was his brother Center after all. The complicated thing was...that his brother has spent way too much time away from his Center. An Uchiha Center is, and always will be, an Uchiha most hoped dream, but if not careful, will also turn into their worst curse. When an Uchiha finds its Center, the Uchiha must spend at least the first month by their Centers side. This allows the Soulbond to establish, also allows the Uchiha member to explore the new sensations that come with finding their Center, but most importantly, allows their Chakra to stabilize. If not, it could have negative effects on the Uchiha. Deterioration. The Chakra inside the Uchiha slowly starts consuming them. Uchihas are been of fire, their chakra is known to be hotter than normal shinobis. In the first 2 months, the Uchiha will have no visible symptoms but they will feel excruciating pain inside of them. By the 4 months, high fever and hallucinations will follow. No one knows for sure what one may see in them, always varies from person to person, but it always revolves around the Center...and mostly in a very bad way. About the 7 months, the once Uchiha soul would be almost completely consumed by their chakra. You would have on your hands only the shell of a person. They lose the ability to talk, or even acknowledge anything around them. Madara, it seems the idiot shut up about knowing who his Center was and now was in bed with a really high fever and, it seems, staying with hallucinations. Calling for her, looking for her desperately. So much, he almost attacks Kyouka, and almost decapitated him, believing they were planning to take Tobirama away from him, hide her in a place where no one will find her. "Izuna...I must get ready...she will come soon..." Madara whispered sleepily. They had to give him/force sedidate on him. Hikaku and Izuna looked at each other worryingly. "What do we do now?" Asked Hikaku once Madara was asleep. It was dangerous to leave him completely alone. "I think there is only one answer..." responded the Uchiha heir. "We are not going to like it, right?" Asked Kyouka. "Probably not, but is the only way to save him..." sign Izuna, standing up and leaving, murmuring about annoying rival-stealing older brothers.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- NAKA RIVER -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"I must say, I was surprised by your urgent message," said Hashirama completely confuse and curious about the sudden summon from his best friend little brother, and little sister rival. "If I may ask, what was the urgent matter you wanted to talk about?" "About a cease-fire agreement between Uchiha and Senju Clans" stated Izuna directly, crossing his arms and looking completely serious.

He could feel her. He could feel her Chakra, her essence, her soul calling him, screaming for him, demanding his presence. A few hours ago he woke up from the annoying drug, his mind somewhat clear. He asked Hikaku and Kyouka for some food and water. He needed them out of his way, his Center was calling him. He needed to answer. He could feel her hesitation and disappointment as more time passes without answering her call. He slowly reached her chakra with his, teasing her, letting her know he will answer, he will find her. After those annoying obstacles left, he quickly (and kind of dizzily) left his compound, summoning all his chakra to move faster. He could feel his body a little bit heavy than usual but nothing to concern himself. His only goal was to reach her Center.

"I'm sorry...what did you just say?" Asked Hashirama, blinking innocently while staring at Izuna, who just looked pissed off. "You heard me," was the Uchiha only response. "I-I just..." once Hashirama could slowly register the words Izuna said, he turns serious. Before Izuna was not the goofy Hashirama, but the Clan Head from the Senju of the Forest. "Please forgive me, but you must understand my confusion, especially after you have scream to everyone who could listen how peace was a tramp" "Don't get your facts to mix up. I never talk about a peace agreement or your silly little village, I said a cease-fire agreement." Quickly corrected Izuna. "Either way, I must ask, what made you change your mind?" Asked curiously Hashirama, returning to his sunny side. "My brother, he...he needs something important, and he can only obtain it by a cease-fire between our clans" somewhat explain Izuna. All Uchihas are taught to never reveal the Uchiha Center to anyone, for enemies can take advantage of the gift. "Madara?! Is he sick?! I can heal him!" Quickly offer Hashirama. Such a good-hearted person. "Its not something you could heal, but you can help him by accepting the cease-fire agreement" stated Izuna. "My clan is ready to accept a cease-fire" assured the tall man "but how are you gonna make your Elders accept this agreement?" "Once my brother gets Tobirama, they will have no option but accept," answered Izuna. For a second, the Uchiha heir forgot who exactly was he talking to...and boy, was that a big mistake. "What do you mean 'once he gets Tobirama'?" Asked Hashirama slowly, very slowly.

His body was feeling so hot but so relieved now. Before he was that water body where he discovers the White Goddess was his Center. Before he was Tobirama bathing so slowly and sensually. She knew he was there. Oh, she did know, but she never gave any indication that she cared. Her chakra was still calling for him, and now he answered. Finally, finally, he allowed his chakra to run free, to mix with hers. He heard her moan in absolute pleasure, her head throwback a little bit. She wanted more and he gave her more. Oh! Those sounds were going directly to his dick, she was a siren enchanting him with her songs. She slowly turns to look at him, walking towards him, allowing his Sharingan to record her nude body, how her pale skin shone with the blue moon behind her, how her white hair fell like a cascade, how her red tattoos run through all of her body. Her red eyes show nothing but pleasure, enjoyment, and contentment. Blessed Amateratsu for the Sharingan. This was a sight Gods would kill to see. She was a true masterpiece. Suddenly, her chakra was filled with nothing but horror and embarrassment. She let a little scream scape her pink limps as she let her body fall into the water, letting her element cover her beauty. His Sharingan instantly turn into the Mangekyou, looking, searching for those who dared scare his Center, who dare look at the beauty that Madara was destined to. Who was the fucking morron that dare to-- "HI COOL WHITE LADY!! IM KAGAMI!! YOU ARE SOOOOOO COOL! CAN YOU TEACH ME THOSE COOL JUTSUS!? WHY ARE YOUR EYES RED?? THEY ARE VERY PRETTY!!" screamed excitedly Kagami from Madara's shoulder, at the top of his lungs. What the fuck?! "Ka-Kagami?!" Called surprised (and very angry) Madara, looking at his student that was on his shoulder. How the fuck did this little brat got there?! "What are you doing here?!" Demanded Madara, taking the kid by his shirt collar and getting him off his shoulder. "Papa told me to watch over you when he went for food, but as soon he left you were also leaving through the window, so I climb in your back before you left," he explained innocently to the cute child. "Ne, why are you naked? Are you training? Is Madara-sama helping you train? Can I train? Do I have to get naked too?" Huh...so that was why his body felt heavier than usual...

So many questions, Madara was feeling a migraine now that his Chakra was not trying to kill him and his instinct somewhat calmed. Wait? Naked? Oh...My...Fucking...God... Quickly, he took the edge of Kagami shirt and pulled it up in a way where the child will have trouble fixing it. He may be a child, but Tobirama was still his Center and only he can see her naked. Besides...if the glaring and killing intent was telling him something, was that his white angel was NOT happy. At. Fucking. All. "U-Uhm..." "Just pass me my clothes" she demanded coldly. That should not be a turn-on. Blushing, Madara just follows. An uncomfortable silence follows by the exception of Kagami who was still fighting his shirt and whining about it, all until a scream, a very feminine scream echo through the forest. "Isn't that...?" "Izuna?!"

#madara uchiha #Tobirama Senju #female tobirama #kick-ass female tobirama #nudity #fanfic #madatobi #ao3fic #humor #kagami uchiha #alicia's kingdom

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tamagochiie · 4 years

Text

hq boys as your tutor (subjects specified)

genre: short fluffs

characters: chikara ennoshita, tsukishima kei, tetsurou kuroo

synopsis: you're not doing so well in a certain subject, and the boys help you out.

a/n: henlo! i'm fairly new to writing fanfics here, so please be kind! this was inspired from a routine conversation i had with my friends after watching the third ep of the new season muehehe i dedicate this first post to those two uwa!

warnings: none

—Tsukishima Kei | math, probably

during the first few tutoring sessions, tsukki holds a serious disposition. he's there as your tutor and nothing more; he won't come earlier than expected and won't stay any longer than he needs to you unless you need him to.

but after your many attempts to lighten him up, he'll begin to ease around you, but not enough to become as a distraction. he'll ask you how your day went before you start the session, and he'll ask you how you're feeling after it.

you're fully aware how unapologetically mean tsukki can be, but unlike when he's tutoring kageyama and hinata, he’s tad nicer to you. because he's not entirely close with you, he holds back. he knows full well it'll only hurt yourself esteem if he comments on your inability to get the answer right away.

to your surprise, when you get something wrong after a few tries, he won't groan in frustration or visibly show his irritation. he'll keep it to himself because he knows it'll only make you feel small. so, instead, he'll swallow his urge to comment and patiently explains once more.

he won't praise you when you finally get an answer right, but he'll say things like "good job" or "well, that was better than last time."

bonus: when you pass a test or at the very least, get past your own personal best, he’ll buy you bread and milk from the near by bakery as a reward.

"I'm sorry," You sigh, dropping your pencil to the side before burying your head into your hands. Its your fifth attempt at the equation, and Tsukki's sixth attempt to explain it to you.

You swallow thickly, bracing for the impact of Tsukki's string of cruel words he's probably been preparing for this exact moment. But to your surprise, you feel a light tug on the cuff of your jacket and you raise your head to find Tsukki as still as the air around you.

"You don't need to be sorry," He assures, shifting in his spot on the floor beside you to move a little closer. "You needed a tutor for a reason." With the right tone, it would've probably sounded condescending. Though his expression’s blank, you can clearly hear the sincerity in his voice.

"I'm probably the dumbest one you've taught by far." You joke, laughing at yourself as you ruffle your hair in frustration.

"Oh, trust me," He Tsukki says, smirking as he rolls his eyes, "there's a couple of idiots I know who'd wish you were the dumbest one I've taught."

You squint your eyes, puzzled because you didn't quite catch what he said. You aren't sure if it was an indirect pass to mock you or if it was a failed try at a compliment.

—Chikara Ennoshita | idk but i imagine english

to no surprise, he's extremely patient and would cheer you up every time you got frustrated trying to pronounce the words properly. he'd encourage you to take as much time as you need; and for every apology, he'd simply smile and tell you not to be.

though, he'd give you a displeased look every time you'd call yourself dumb or say you want to give up because you can't pick it up fast enough.

he has really pretty, organized notes, so its easier for you to read it as a reference from time to time.

when he notices you feeling a bit off before a session, he'll give you day off and try to do something fun instead. to him, mental health is more important than academics.

You sink deep into your thoughts as you are in your seat.

Heavy is your head that holds the most thoughts.

You take a breath, trying to ease yourself before Ennoshita arrives, but if anything, you feel like crying.

Today had been trying every last inch of your kindness and patience. From your parents' early morning nagging about your grades to a petty, miscalculated fight with your best friend. In hind sight, it probably wasn't much to cry over, but you were overworked and ready to collapse.

You're even too tired to notice Ennoshita sitting on the edge of the table, waving his hand over your face to get your attention. You offer him a small, faltering smile that he doesn't buy.

"You know what," Ennoshita pushes himself off the table before kneeling beside you. You and your thoughts finally gravitate back to earth; and shift from your lazed posture to look down at the bubbling boy before you, "How about we cancel today's tutoring session and do something else?"

You tilt your head, knitting your brows. "I don't follow..."

Ennoshita clears his throat and moves a little closer to you, “I think it’ll only be counter productive if your thoughts are else where...How can I possible teach you if you’re not entire here?”

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, sighing. The weight of your own body growing heavier than your heart and your mind the longer the conversation continues on. “I’ll be more present.”

He raises his hand, shaking his head. When he says your name in a whisper, you feel a release of tension on your chest, “We’re not studying today,” He clarifies, “Let’s going somewhere--do something fun. And if you want, you can tell me what’s bringing you down.”

"But I need to study."

"But if you do study, it'll only be disappointing for you because you won't be able to retain a single thing." He lightly taps your forehead, making you flinch. "So, will you do me the honor of taking my hand and trust me?"

You’re hesitant, but excitement twinges in your chest at the thought of doing something in the spur of the moment causes you take his hand anyway. “My mental health is in your hands, Ennoshita-san.”

—Tetsuro Kuroo | science (of course)

it'll amaze you how great he is at teaching. he uses layman terms to help you understand in a way that'll make you forget you're even learning. he’s laid back and he'll treat you like you're close even when you're not just to get you comfortable around him.

he's attentive, so he keeps a mental note of what works for you and what doesn't when he first begins tutoring you. he'll adjust to you and your pace, making sure never to push you too far.

he'll crack jokes in the middle of teaching you a formula just to ease the tension. sometimes he'll even play some music in the background. (to be funny, he'll even play the periodic table song.)

when he realizes the silence of the library doesn't help you focus, he changes the next meeting place. he'll try different places; the cafe, the nearby ramen house, and even at the park. but he'll eventually come to the decision to bring you to his house. there's barely any noise, but it isn't silent enough to have you bouncing your leg.

bonus: he'll become your personal cheerleader whether if its just the two of you studying, or when you're about to take a test.

"Can you dumb it down for me?" You ask, laughing at your inability to become a sponge, throwing your head back. "Maybe we can skip this par—"

"Ohh no," Kuroo protests, shaking his head, "I believe in you! I'll explain it one more time, and if you don't get it, then we'll take a brain break. How's that sound?"

You grimace, not too keen on the idea. "We can take a brain break now."

"No." He deadpans. "Take a deep breath—" Kuroo inhales, raising his arms towards the ceiling before bring it down to the floor and letting go of all the air in his lungs, "and then exhale."

"Your breath smells bad." You joke, crinkling your nose as you pretend to wave off the fake stench of his breath.

He looks at you in shock, hurt faintly etched in the outlines of his face. He brings his hand close to his mouth, checking his breath and you laugh, earning a glare from him.

"If you have time to crack a joke, you have time review."

You frown, but eventually give into him. "Fine, fine."

He claps his hands before rubbing them together. "Okay, lemme explain it again."

#kuroo x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #ennoshita chikara #tetsuro kuroo #tsukishima kei #hq!!#kuroo imagines #tuskishima imagines #tsukki #kuroo #ennoshita #haikyuu imagines #ennoshita imagines #mine #my work

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

#my writing #Dolls' Eyes #MCU #Avengers: Endgame #Peggy Carter #Brunnhilde #Carol Danvers #Valkyrie #Captain Marvel #Steve Rogers #Nick Fury

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angelictrl · 3 years

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heyhey! for the plant asks could you write clover, daisy, and honeysuckle for mahiru and celeste

geez, i dunno why this took me forever to write, but it was still fun nonetheless ! celestia's under the cut after mahiru (honeysuckle for her got pretty long bc im a simp </3) :)

MAHIRU KOIZUMI

🌻 clover ;; what type of gifts do they like to get their s/o ?

this is probably a pretty common thing everyone would agree on, but she'd give you polaroids and show you pictures she took of you either previously or currently !

this strawberry shortcake lookalike would make scrap albums and give it to you as a gift on your birthday and/or anniversary.

she'd even make a collage of all the pictures she's taken on your dates or even just your domestic lifestyle together to relive the nostalgia and peacefulness of those moments.

regardless, photos are strewn and hung up everywhere, whether that be clipped against fairy lights on your wall, on your desk in an actual picture frame, hung up in a collage, pinned on the fridge, or simply displayed in an album on a bookshelf - there's always at least one picture showcased of you two <3

however, just because she's the ultimate photographer, doesn't mean all she gives you is photos !

she travels a lot because, well, people would like her to hire her to take pictures with how clean and clear her shots are, so she explores lots of places pretty often - even if she doesn't talk about it much.

on those trips, she'll pick up souvenirs or items that you've requested or remind her of you, and she'll present it to you first thing when she gets back. she'll be all excited to show you and warmly smile before getting just as red as her hair when you thank her.

🌻 daisy ;; what is their love language, both giving and receiving ?

in all honesty, i think she switches between all five love languages pretty often. if i had to rank it from most commonly expressed to least, though, it'd have to be words of affirmation, acts of service, gift giving/quality time (in a tie), and physical touch.

she doesn't mind her partner's love language at all - as long as they're also somewhat keen with words of affirmation.

i don't think she's too picky with physical touch. she enjoys it, yes, but more so privately. and even then, it's not something she really needs in a relationship, so she wouldn't constantly ask her partner for physical touch unless they're clingy.

though, she does love to hold hands with her s/o a lot <3

🌻 honeysuckle ;; if their s/o was hurt, what would they do ?

mama bear mode activated.

but like, no, literally, she has a big temper and will get really overprotective of you - especially if someone else caused intentionally wanted to harm you and was the cause of your injury.

she wouldn't hesitate to snap at their ass and get all up in their face. she'd roast the fuck out of them and honestly probably leave them a sobbing mess, ngl - at least, internally HRKEJEJ

especially if it was a guy, she'd show no mercy ... "what the hell is wrong with you, picking on my s/o ?! you sure have some balls doing so, but when i'm through with you, you sure as hell won't !"

yeah ... thanks, mahiru <3 /gen /lh

regardless if you're left bedridden or not, she'd be at your every beck and call. she'd be so soft with you and would get so cuddly.

you want her to hold you and distract you from the pain ? she's on it, stroking your hair as she whispers sweet nothings to you. you just want to hear her voice ? she'll talk about the history behind your favorite photos she's taken. you're freezing cold ? she's already asking you how many blankets you want while tucking you in, a heating pad heating up right then and there all for you.

she can be a bit of a worrywart though, so as much as she reassures you that you're going to be okay, she also needs some reassurance from you too - especially if your condition begins to deteriorate. being positive all the time can be pretty hard and exhausting :(

CELESTIA LUDENBURG

🌻 clover ;; what type of gifts do they like to get their s/o?

celestia doesn't gives gifts often, but when she does, it's mostly expensive items. she loves to spoil you - after all, you're the only one who deserves to rule beside her in her eyes.

when she's away at a gambling tournament, if her opponent has something that reminds her of you, she'll find a way to get it from them whether that be by making them bet on it or intimidating them.

she may be dainty, but when it comes to you or gambling, she won't hesitate to stoop to the lowest levels. anywho, she'll come home all smug but mask it with her elegant facade.

"ah, darling, it's nice to see you after such an exhilarating day. here, i picked this up for you while i was away. it reminded me of you quite a lot/i remember you saying you adored this item. where and how did i get this ... ? hmm ... are you sure you'd like to know, my love ?"

she'd prepare some tea for you two and set down her cup after drinking with a smirk, proudly telling you how she made someone go bankrupt again LMAO DJSKDJ

she's may be a menace to society and peoples' wallets, but we still love her all the same </3

🌻 daisy ;; what is their love language, both giving and receiving ?

giving, celestia's love languages are quality time, words of affirmation, gift giving, and acts of service (occasionally and surprisingly) in that order.

recieving she doesn't mind any, but acts of service and words of affirmation are very appreciated by her and don't go unnoticed.

she'll praise and thank you but state that you aren't a servant for her with acts of service, but instead an equal. after all, being her s/o means that she actually grew to respect you enough to take a liking to you.

she appreciates you being so kind to do things for her, really - she likes to be treated like a princess - but being in a relationship with her would mostly be a longterm relationship. she'll actually open up to you, so she doesn't want you to think she's only using you. privately, she has no problem doing things for you.

🌻 honeysuckle ;; if their s/o was hurt, what would they do ?

oh, boy. you thought mahiru was scary ? everyone's gonna piss themselves when celestia gets word that you hurt yourself. especially if someone else hurt you.

"WHAT ?! what the hell do you mean s/o got hurt ?! WELL ?! what are you blubbering idiots doing standing around gawking at them for ?! either do something to be useful or move out of my way so i can do something, you cantankerous plebeians !"

she'd snap at anyone and everyone who dares to defy her or hesitates for even a second to do something until you're finally safe and healthy.

internally, she's panicking and the only way she knows how to express her desperation for you to survive is to snap orders at everyone to help out or do something.

she's just really scared since she's never cared for someone so much in her life. she loves and trusts you enough to be herself around you.

to show you her true personality, to show you her true looks, to tell you and let you call her her real name, to let down her fake accent with you - she just learned to open up to you in general.

she'd help you with everything and anything you need after you're finally resting and in good hands. you'd catch a rare sight of celestia being domestic.

as you stumble into the kitchen to find out what that good smell is early in the morning, you'd catch celestia wearing a cute little dark and lacy vintage apron without her wig/extensions or makeup, swaying her hips happily as she cooks breakfast for you two and quietly sings along to some good classics.

her playlist is honestly random, so one minute she could be humming or singing along to songs like sudno by molchat doma, jealous by eyedress, verbatim, hayloft, or oh ana by mother mother, and the next she'd be spitting raps so fast that even eminem can't keep up with her.

she'd finally notice you while she's catching her breath after rapping, a blush visibly painting her milky white skin.

"aha - um - dear, i didn't notice you were up already ... did you hurt yourself on your way over here ?"

she'd completely change the subject LMAO DJSKJD

but even so, the best medicine you got that morning was celestia's singing in her normal voice as she allowed you to backhug her while she finished cooking breakfast for you two <3

danganronpa masterlist.

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shes-coming-clean · 3 years

Text

Green Day Documentary Reviews Pt 2

The last one of these seemed to make people happy, and because my brain refuses to think about anything but this band right now, might as well do something productive with that. So here is part 2!

Today’s doc: Green Day: Born To Be (2016)

I decided to get this one over with because I didn’t remember liking it the first time, and wow, it’s even worse than I remember. So this review is going to be a lot more negative overall because oof this one pisses me off. Honestly, one of its strongest qualities is that its only 24 minutes, so at least you don’t have to suffer too long.

Pros

* It focuses on their lives from childhood up through American Idiot and includes a decent amount of detail.

* They don’t have any present day interviews recorded specifically for this documentary, which means they have to get really creative piecing old interviews together to tell a coherent story. And they do that well...about half the time (more on that later)

* There are Portuguese subtitles so that’s nice. We love accessibility in this house

* There is a mention of Two Dollar Bill! Love to see it. Unfortunately, they get the nickname wrong and call him Two Dollar Billie (How do you miss the play on words there?) but still, it’s a nice detail to include

* They actually discuss Billie and Mike’s childhoods in some detail. Tré does not get the same treatment but A for effort - 2 out of 3 aint bad.

And that’s it for pros. On to the cons. We’ll focus on the nitpicky stuff first

* This video only has audio in one ear if you’re using headphones, which is kinda unusual for this channel, so I wonder if there was some kind of mistake uploading it.

* They only seem to have footage from the Dookie era and onward so when they talk about stuff before that, they either use a mix of a couple of old photos of the band, generic stock footage, or more modern video clips. I understand that you have to work with what you have, but this is kind of distracting when you’re hearing the narrator talk about their informal audition for Lookout Records, but you’re hearing and seeing the Good Riddance music video. Like, I’d give it a pass if the song at least commented on or shared an emotion with that part of the story but it just feels random. They really don’t seem to have put too much thought into when they use certain clips, so the performances on screen aren’t always from the time period they’re taking about - even later on in the story. This, and the lack of a clear structure can make it hard to tell what year/era they’re talking about at any given moment.

* They have to rely on past interviews to do a lot of the story telling, but once again, they don’t always care too much about time period and will clip sections out of context. For example, they take a clip of Billie from roughly ‘95 talking about how the last few years have been crazy, and make it about their career downturn in the early 2000s, even though you can CLEARLY see he’s younger than in the other clips.

* There is a narrator who fills in the parts of the story not conveyed in clips which is a good choice...except that he’s really annoying. I can’t tell if it’s his voice or the script he’s been given, but either way, it’s not great.

* The narrator says that all three band members divorced or separated from their wives in the late 90s/early 2000s, except...that didn’t happen. Billie and Adrienne had a rough point, sure, but they didn’t separate or divorce.

So far, most of my critiques have not been massive. I still probably could’ve enjoyed a doc at least a bit even if it had those problems, a lot of which seem to be due to a lack of resources and having to make do with what they had. I can understand that. The same does not hold true for this next part, which is, how they framed the band’s jump to a major label and the years that followed.

Every band, actor, or public figure of any kind will usually have some kind of signature question or complaint that everyone either levies against them or debates. Green Day’s is basically “are they real punks or are they sellouts?” At this point, I think this question is pretty stupid and I have a lot of problems with the mindset behind it (I think it has a lot to do with classism and sexism, but that’s for another time), but it’s part of the band’s public persona at this point, so any documentary has to at least touch on it. Most docs tend to frame the backlash against the band after they sighed with Reprise as the petty complaints of jealous gatekeepers who were pissed that the band was inviting normies into their punk club. Basically, there was nothing Green Day could’ve done about it - it was going to happen either way.

But this doc takes it for granted that Green Day absolutely sold out, and not just that, they fundamentally changed and stopped being punk. Which, like, are we listening to the same album? The only real difference between Kerplunk (released before they signed with a major label) and Dookie (their major label debut) is that the second had an actual budget. The sound and subject matter is very very similar. They were never super “hard core” to begin with - in fact, it was their catchy melodies that made them stand out. Nothing in their style changed. Honestly, I would argue that Dookie has a lot more songs about being angry and punk than Kerplunk does. The only difference is its higher production quality. So, when this doc says things like they “lost their hard fought identity” I honestly don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. And this isn’t just me being a fan. The doc says they changed, it says they stopped being punk, but it doesn’t offer any evidence to substantiate that claim. We’re just supposed to hear the ominous music and the out-of-context clips (which were mostly self-deprecating jokes) and believe it.

When they do provide details, most of them are wrong, or at very least, misleading. For example, they claim that the backlash only happened after the band released the second and third singles off of Dookie, “Basket Case” and “When I Come Around” respectively. It claims that the first single, “Longview” was punk enough to make fans happy while the other songs weren’t, which...ok - I just don’t think you can claim “Longview” is any more punk than the other songs. Honestly, it’s kind of a departure from their normal sound into a more jazzy style. I don’t think you can argue that it’s any more punk than “Basket Case” unless you’re claiming that singing about masturbation makes something inherently punk. Like, what are we even defining as “punk” at this point? Also, the backlash started long LONG before any song off the album had ever been released. It started as soon as they signed with Reprise, so claiming it was because people didn’t like the music is just dishonest.

Overall, I really feel like this doc has a very strange tone, especially for a piece of media supposedly promoting their newest album (Revolution Radio). It pays lip service to how great and accomplished the band is, but takes every opportunity to trash them. Because it goes so hard on the “they sold out” narrative, it implies that the success of American Idiot is just because they got lucky that people liked the product of their lack of artistic integrity. I am more than ok with criticizing a band - even one I like, and I don’t mind when a doc does try to do more than just praise Green Day, but those criticisms have to be backed up. And the whole question of “selling out” is just so so stupid at this point. This doc came out in 2016 - was the most pressing issue that year really whether or not a band stopped being punk 25 years ago?

So, thanks for coming to my ted talk. I hope you liked it and if there’s any other Green Day docs you want me to review next, please let me know. These have been a lot of fun to write and I’m so happy that people seem to like it.

youtube

#green day #billie joe armstrong #mike dirnt #tre cool #alliereviews #green day doc #punk #punk rock #pop punk #dookie #american idiot

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x reader, Parker Holland x Charlotte Owens

-Warnings: Language, Blood, Death, Fighting

-Words: 3.6K

Author note: I really love this chapter. I love all the comments and would appreciate nice constructive criticism (please don't butcher my work lol) if you want. Feel free to leave in the comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter :))

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Word: 3.6K

“Haz are you okay mate?” Tom asked, seeing Haz freak out, they were about to land at Heathrow, on their way back from Dublin.

“No, I just heard from my neighbor that Henry never came home last night. With everything that happened yesterday, I’m just worried. I hope he is not lying in a ditch somewhere.” Harrison explained.

“He probably crashed at ours, everything will be ok.” You said as you comforted Haz. Oh boy, were you wrong.

Back at home, Parker awoke to his impending death once you and Tom, his parents’, find out what happened to their beautiful mansion. One party did all this damage. The curtains were torn down, there was red party cups everywhere and all the liquor bottles were displayed on the table. One amazingly epic party did all that.

“Bloody hell! That’s it I’m dead. I’m dead. I will never be allowed to leave this house ever again.” Parker said to himself. Picking up his phone he noticed 4 missed calls from you. Each one had a message and if there was one thing he knew about you is that you only left more harsh and frantic voice messages the more you called.

He only played the most recent one, you sounded really peeved “PARKER JACKSON HOLLAND! Please call me, I’m worried about you. I can’t get in touch with the staff either. I will be home in 20 mins, you better have a good fucking explanation for everything.” Parker’s eyes nearly flew out of his head when he saw that was sent 15 mins ago. Any moment now he would hear the Rolls pulling into the driveway.

The poor kid could only move so fast, he quickly gathered the liquor bottles and threw them into a plastic trash bag along with all the red solo cups that seem to be multiplying. All the meanwhile corralling all the squatters, from last night, who crashed there. He found some people by the pool and others passed out in the dining room. Running like a madman through the house, he caught a glimpse of what would be the reason for his demise. The door to Tom’s office was open. He swore to god he locked it, someone must’ve broken in. They could’ve taken anything, all the information about the mob was stored in that one tastefully decorated room. Parker quickly shut the door and hoped nothing would happen, he couldn’t live with himself if this one stupid party cost his family their livelihood.

“Rosie? Henry? Where are you guys? Mum and dad will be home any minute, I need your help.” Parker called out throughout the house. He didn’t expect Rosie to show up because of their fight last night, but where the fuck was Henry.

You and Tom pulled up along with Harrison in the black Rolls Royce, coming to a screeching halt. You all walked along the cobble stone path to the two large, intimidating front doors. You all simultaneously freaked out when you saw the door was ajar. Tom and Haz pulled out their guns and made it a priority to keep you safe by shoving you behind them. You all had no idea what you could be walking into.

Tom whispered to Haz to split up, Haz took the East Wing while Tom checked the main rooms. Rounding the corner he could her footsteps.

“Darling, stay behind me. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Tom whispered and you nodded in response.

“On the count of 3. 1, 2, 3,” Tom screamed as he jumped out, holding his gun straight ahead. He found his son disheveled, carrying grocery bags filled with empty beer cans and liquor bottles.

“DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT! Holy fuck! Dad is that you?” Parker screamed, dropping the bags to the ground, glass shattering and raising his hand up in innocence. Scared for his life her quickly caught his breath when he realized who it was.

“Parker, what the hell? Why the fuck was the door opened…. wait? Did you have a party!?!” Tom thundered as he realized what his son did. His voice gradually growing more furious. Parker just stood there with a shameful look on his face.

“Mum, dad. How was Dublin?” Parker sneaked to quickly change the subject.

“Don’t try to get out this, explain now!” You scolded, just as furious as Tom

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it, I just needed to blow off steam.” “What the fuck do you think a sorry is going to do? I run a fucking mob, Parker. Are you a fucking idiot? Parker, for fucks sake, anyone could have stolen some information from my office or gotten into the gun room. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I’m not that much of a div, I locked your office and I don’t know,” Parker explained.

“You’re not as dumb as I thought. Hope you were smart enough to lock the liquor cellar too,” Tom concluded.

“Yeah…about that,” Parker mumbled as Tom ran off to his liquor room. A loud clash and curse sounded throughout the house when he laid his eyes on his ransacked priceless collection.

“Mum, say something?” Parker pleaded with you as you just stood there in silence.

“2 months. You’re grounded for 2 months. No dates or parties, just school and home. I don’t think you understand how lucky you are that nothing serious happened here.” You said, your voice drenched with disappointment. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about what dad and you asked me and —” Parker whispered as he was soon cut off by Haz walking in.

“Did you find Henry?” Haz interrupted.

“No, I’m going to check upstairs. Will you check on Tom?” Harrison nodded as you ascended the staircase. Making your way through the halls, coming upon Rosie’s room.

“Roo, honey you awake?” You said walking into Rosie’s room

“AHHHH! Oh my fucking god! Rosie!” You screamed at the sight in front of you. Your sweet, slightly bad tempered daughter asleep with a boy in her bed.

“Darling? You alright?” Tom yelled from downstairs after hearing your scream.

“Mum, what are you doing here?” Rosie exclaimed frantically.

“Hi, Y/N.” Henry whispered, praying he wasn’t going to be berated. You were a mother figure to him after his own mother left his father and never looked back. “This is my house and hi Henry. What the fuck is Henry doing here in you bed? What the fuck are you doing here?” You questioned bouncing between the two of them to get some answers.

“I can explain. But, firstly are you gonna tell dad?” Rosie inquired.

“The fact that he is already fuming downstairs, no. Not right now. And please explain, you have 5 seconds, but first you need to get Henry out of here.”

“Thank you mom, I just don’t —.“

“Ehh, eh, eh! Shut it, I’ll deal with you later,” you barked.

“Henry, I suggest you take the window and your dad is looking for you,” you said.

“Shit! Thanks Y/N… I mean Mrs. Holland” Henry said as you shot him a glare.

The moment Henry was in the clear, Tom barged in with his gun in hand. Someone needs to tell this man to put it down. All morning he has been traumatically scarring his kids for life, first with Parker and now Rosie.

“What? Is everyone all right? I heard a scream.” Tom exclaimed out of breath.

“Umm, yeah. I just saw a spider.” You stuttered.

“Oh love, you can kill a man in cold blood but can’t handle an itty bitty spider,” Tom joked as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“You're afraid of them too, Thomas.” You quipped with a side eye. If looks could kill, yours definitely would.

“And for you missy, you’re grounded along with your brother.” Tom said, looking down on Rosie. “Me? What did I do?” Rosie asked in a high pitched voice. “You attended this party correct? And since this is also your house, you threw it by association. Am I right?” Tom inquired.

“I guess so,” Rosie huffed.

The twin’s exile was worse than they prepared for. Not only were they responsible for cleaning up the entire mess but they were given a list of chores to complete. This was no ordinary list. It was devised by you and Tom along with inputs from the maids and capos.

On it read:

Wash the Rolls

Clean the guns

Reorganize the pantry

Mow the lawn

Re-order all stolen liquor and stock the liquor room

Drain the pool, clean the pool, fill the pool back up again…

The list was never-ending. Each task more pointless than the next. It went on forever. The household staff was happy for their load was to be lessen for a couple weeks, unlike the kids. Harrison even forced Henry to partake in the chores.

The kids were only a couple days into their quarantine and were already going stir crazy. Parker was having withdrawals from Charlotte, missing her even more. The boy was whipped for her, really smitten. They would talk the night away. Some nights never getting any shut eye as their conversations would prolong hours.

Parker couldn’t believe this was where he was now. One night of unadulterated juvenile fun equated to 2 months of misery. Today was Charlotte’s birthday and he was supposed to take her to the London Eye on a surprise birthday trip, but all his plans were ruined the moment his parents came home and grounded his sorry ass.

“I can’t believe your parents grounded you. Assholes.” Charlotte said over the phone, fuming he couldn’t celebrate with her.

“I can’t go babe. I really wish I could but I’m grounded for life remember.” Parker said, the cold shoulder Tom and you had been giving him was killing him.

“Parker its my birthday. You have to come,” Charlotte pleaded

“There’s no chance in hell I’m allowed to leave.”

“Geez you just threw a party, it’s not like you killed someone,” Charlotte added. He might as well have. If he killed someone he wouldn’t be burdened with this punishment, probably praised instead, carrying on the family tradition.

“Just sneak out. Come on, we are all going to this nightclub downtown. It’s gonna be awesome. And I’m such a good girlfriend, I can’t let you miss it.” Charlotte pleaded.

“Alright, Char you wore me down.”

“I knew it. Pick you up at 11 tonight.”

“Park around the block, I’m going to have to climb out my window. Remember my house is like a fortress.” Parker said. He wasn’t lying.

Meanwhile, Tom was in and out of meetings in his office all day. He received one odd phone call in particular from his dad, Dominic Holland. “Hi dad, how are you” Tom said as he picked up the phone.

“I’m fine son, so how did the talk with Parker go. I’m excited to teach him all my mobster tricks,” Dom exclaimed. “Actually dad, he reacted like I did.”

“Oh well, he will come around just like you did” Dom said encouragingly.

“I don’t know if he will. Anyway it wouldn’t be so bad if he had his own path in life.” Tom murmured trying to stick up for his son’s decision.

“Tom, you know what will happen to this family if that happens,” Dom yelled.

“I know dad. I just don’t want him to feel trapped, like you did to me,” Tom exclaimed growing more annoyed by the minute.

“What I did to you got you to where you are today. Your life is thanks to me son and don’t you forget it,” Dom said with a stern, menacing voice.

“Understood sir,” Tom quipped. “Maybe Parker needs a push, in the right direction.” “Dad, I swear to god, don’t fucking do anything. Y/N and I are handling this” Tom yelled. “We’ll see how that turns out” Dom ended the phone call. Leaving Tom frustrated that his father sees him as his own puppet.

The night soon fell and Parker’s plan had been put into motion. He bribed a few of the Tom’s men with his allowance to let him sneak past. He jumped out the window, carefully walked on the roof as to not slip and make any noise. Finally on the ground, he scaled the iron fence to be met with Charlotte’s ice blue eyes. She was dressed in a pink party dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

“Wow princess, you look *chef’s kiss. Happy birthday baby,” Parker said while making his way back to the ground.

“Thanks doll. Now come on, before someone catches us,” she yelled whilst hopping into her silver Mercedes.

Arriving at the nightclub, everything was in full swing for 11 o’clock at night. Parker, Charlotte and her other friends were treated like royalty the moment Parker let his name slip.

“Right this way Mr. Holland and I will have someone bring you a bottle of champagne, on the house of course,” the hostess said as she sat them at their table.

“Oooo fancy, you should drop your name more often,” Charlotte whispered in Parker’s ear.

“Oh it was nothing, love.” Parker said while pouring himself and Charlotte a glass of bubbly. “Seriously Parker, how’d you do this? If I didn’t know any better I’d say your dad owned the club or something,” Charlotte said dumbfounded, causing Parker to choke on his champagne at her remark.

It was amazing what power could do. Having enough power to make your enemies disappear was unimaginable. Parker knew what turning down his father meant. He would have the name and the look of a Holland, but he wouldn’t be one anymore.

How could he give all that up. He enjoyed his cushy lifestyle. Sure it was day after day of worrying about your image but, he felt as though he belonged in that world. How could he go on being a kid for two more years knowing there was a metaphorical expiration date on his life.

He desperately wanted to want to be like them, his family. You, his mother, are the strongest person he knows. Having you in his life keeps him grounded, literally at the moment. Also his dad, Tom is a very loving and amazing father. He was there at all the football games (English football) cheering him on and at the spelling bees, also when he felt his first heartbreak, Tom was there.

Family has been the one constant in his life. Now it was being eclipsed by power, a power that could ruin lives or affect change. Turning his back on his family means they would never get see his future.

No one would be there at his graduation from college or when he first child was born, only Charlotte would be there. The girl he hoped to marry and have his kids. He couldn’t give up his future with her, no way. Parker eyes glanced at her, mesmerized by her beauty. He thought to himself, “This was it. This, she is all I’ll ever need, my princess.”

Most of Parker’s pet names for Charlotte were derived from Tom. He had heard his dad refer to his mother as: princess, queen, doll, darling, love. The list goes on. As long as Parker had his princess he knew he would be ok.

They danced the night away. Song after song. Feeling like the only two people in the room. Getting more drunk as the night progressed and other guests started to fizzle out. Leaving Charlotte and Parker alone on the dance floor.

“Char, I think it’s about time we head home. We are the only people left,”

Parker chuckled.

“Just two more songs please,” she muttered with her head nuzzled by his neck.

“It’s two hours til sunrise!” Parker exclaimed.

“Just a little while longer, I don’t want this moment to end.” “Me neither baby, I want to stay in your arms forever” Parker said. In a moment of love, coupled with champagne and a few tequila shots, Parker whispered, “We should get married.”

“What? Are you serious? Do you mean now or in like 5 years?” Charlotte asked as her voice slowly diminished

“Umm… yes and now. I love you,” Parker murmured. “YES! I will marry you!” Charlotte exclaimed pulling her boyfriend into a deep, passionate kiss. Parker’s dream was coming true and all he had to do was leave his family.

Just then a group of tall, stocky men, all dressed in black, funneled through the door of the club. They didn’t bother with sitting down, they just stood there blocking the only exit.

One of the men spoke up, “Parker Holland? I have a message for you.”

“Can’t it wait til morning, just tell him I’m sorry and he can ground me even longer,” Parker replied thinking the message was from Tom.

“It’s not that kind of message,” all the noise drifted away as the other man drew his gun. Both Charlotte and Parker grew tense at the sight of his pistol.

“Charlotte, get behind me,” Parker whispered, scared for both their lives.

“Boy, it’s not from your daddy,” said the leader of the men. “Do you know who my father is? He will have all of your heads if you so as much lay a finger on me,” Parker responded

“So the girl is up for grabs?” “Charlotte, RUN!” Parker Screamed

“Eh, not so fast. I’m going to enjoy this one.” The guy said, seizing Charlotte in his grip and motioning for this associates to grab Parker. Two arms holding Parker back from protecting Charlotte.

“LET GO OF ME! CHARLOTTE!”

“Why you hanging out this rift raft? I’m sorry but he needs to atone for his mistakes.” “Parker..” Charlotte whimpered.

“Such a pretty girl and such a waste” the man snickered as he pressed the gun into her abdomen. Tears slipped down her face as she felt the cool metal against her.

BANG

It was the shot heard round the room. Everything stood quiet as Charlotte collapsed to the floor. The leader of the men shouted he need a drink. “NOOOOO! ” Parker screamed as he was let go and raced to Charlotte’s side

“Hey, hey, baby look at me. Look at me,” Parker said as tears flooded down his face.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve left.” Charlotte whispered with labored breaths while blood poured out of her wound. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Parker cried while rubbing his thumb on her cheek. Blood pooled around them and he could only be focused on one thing, the love of his life dying in his arms. “Parker, it hurts so much,” Charlotte cried. The pain was mind-numbing. Threatening the life inside her.

“I know, love. Just keep your eyes on me love, keep’em open”

“I’m so tired Parker… I want my last words to you to be I love you. I love you ok? So much.” she whispered, then broke into a coughing fit. Blood filling her mouth and running down her chin, scaring Parker.

“Don’t, don’t fucking start that now you, hear me. You’re gonna be fine, we’re gonna get married and have kids and grow old together,” Parker exclaimed as her eyes threatened to shut.

“You said yes, Char. You have to be okay. You said yes. I asked you to marry me and you said yes.” Parker cried as tears refused to stop coming. Charlotte’s eyes growing more and more to a close.

“Please, don’t leave me baby. Charlotte don’t leave me. Don’t fucking close your eyes. You hear me. Don’t.” And with that, the hand Parker held so close to his heart was limp. Her eyes had closed and heart stopped beating. She was gone.

“No! No, no no, hey hey hey, come on, come on baby stay with me. Stay with me please.”

“Wake up, darling. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just come back to me baby. , I need you,” Parker whimpered. He burst into a fit of sobs and hugged her close to his body, not wanting to let her go because then it all became real.

The woman who changed his life, no longer walked this earth. The love of his life was gone. All the bubbling life inside of her, vanished like it had never existed in the first place. Parker’s demeanor flipped like a switch. His sadness became infused with anger, he was out for blood.

“You bastards! Why did you do that? She had nothing to do with this?” Parker thundered as blood coated his knuckles. “I’m sorry kid, but it had to be done” The leader spoke.

In a fit of rage, Parker grabbed the empty champagne bottle and smashed it over one of the guy’s heads, knocking the muscular guy unconscious.

“Big mistake, kid. Thought you were smarter than that.” The leader said as he stood in front of Parker and delivered him a swift punch to the jaw, flooring Parker.

“She really wasn’t enough of a message? Want her death to be in vain?” He spat as he kicked Parker in the stomach.

Several kicks followed, two more to the stomach, one to the groin and one final blow to the head, demobilizing Parker. He laid on the ground coughing up blood, trying to gather enough strength to get home.

He looked once more over to the girl he had loved, lifeless with a whole in stomach, knowing if it weren’t for him she would still be alive. Charlotte was the only thing on his mind as he succumbed to all the pain and everything faded to darkness.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Dad!Mob!Tom Holland #Mob!Tom #mobster #Mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x reader

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janiedean · 3 years

Note

10 year prompts: FAIRY TALE AU FOR STANNIS E DAVOS <3 If any of your other OTPs acts as a background/helpers "because they have been there" it would be lovely, especially since they are all different takes on the Beauty and the Beast story. But also because it would be really fun to see idk, Sandor trying to give Davos dating advice "as someone who was in Stannis position before". Thank you so much for accepting prompts!

HELLO ANON have uh... the pseudo cinderella reverse au of doom that I don't know where it's from, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT pls presume every westeros kingdom is separated for this and same sex marriage is allowed

buy me a coffee | commissions open

"Well, it seems like we are at an impasse, and I need you to fucking compromise," Robert says, and Stannis has to stop himself from gritting his teeth loudly.

"I am not," Stannis replies, "compromising on this."

"You do realize," Robert says, "that -"

"That according to whichever stupid law your precious Westeros council still hasn't managed to change when they have damned well should -"

"You know it's not a priority -"

"Of course for the seven of you it's not a priority," Stannis groans, "but I do know that if I don't get married Renly can't marry his precious Loras Tyrell either, and for the umpteenth time, as I did compromise years ago and I had to marry someone I didn't even like and who didn't like me and we all know how it ended up, you can forget I will compromise on marrying the first person you find suitable especially when I'm not sure they would be kind to my daughter, and I'm not making that mistake again."

"Oh, come on, you're being unreasonable -"

"Robert, no woman in Westeros actually wants someone with my background and I'm not subjecting my daughter to someone who hates her, and I'm not backing down on that."

"And what if I found some woman who did?"

"I am not marrying anyone I don't like. Not anymore." He's going to stand his ground on that. He hasn't done that for his entire life and both his brothers always ended up ahead of him and he didn't even complain because it was his duty, but -

But now he's not doing that.

Robert sighs. "Do you hate your brother that much?"

"I accepted someone I didn't like once, Robert. And it's not just me anymore now."

Robert sighs louder. "All right, all right. Let's say I strike a deal with bloody Rhaegar Targaryen and he lends me the ballroom in King's Landing, I throw a ball for your hand and you choose whoever you want?"

"No one is going to show up at a ball for me," Stannis grits out. "Do you really want to humiliate me that much?"

"You can choose," Robert says, "as long as you fucking get married. Take it or leave it or I choose someone for you. I'm not letting a Tyrell alliance go to waste because you're too stubborn."

Stannis really doesn't want to agree with this, but.

But if he doesn't agree it's just going to be worse after, and at this point he might as well try to make the best out of it.

"Whatever," he says, "fine."

Out of whoever goes to this fucking ball, maybe there will be someone halfway decent.

Maybe.

Well, Davos thinks, couldn't be faulted for trying, even if he hadn't exactly predicted dying in an execution on the damned public square because fucking Randyll Tarly decided that since some fucking stupid royal ball is happening each single criminal has to be dealt with swiftly.

Also, he was an idiot to get caught, but then again, it's not like he was given a trial or anything and him asking for one had made the arse laugh and say to not waste his precious time, so he supposes he is going to get hanged on the public square.

To think that he's managed to be a smuggler without getting caught for years and now he's here because -

"Lord Tarly," someone says just as Davos gets dragged in front of the noose, "what is this about now?"

"My lord," Tarly says with... somewhat distaste. Davos dares looking ahead. The other guy is... definitely a lord, dressed finely in black and just a smish of gold embroidered in his clothing, but at least it's sober. Definitely a few years younger than Davos, has to be around thirty at most, and while he's not what you'd call astonishing in a man, Davos can't help noticing that he has a nice pair of blue eyes, though they're steely as they look at Tarly as if he's nowhere near pleased with any of this circus. Certainly Davos is not, either. "This man was caught committing a foul deed and I don't want criminals running around with the occasion you know of is looming, so if you'd let me do your job -"

"And what was this foul deed we're talking about?"

"I do not see why we have to discuss -"

"Because," the other lord replies, "the occasion that is looming is supposedly for my own benefit and I would like to know and I do not like to see people killed for something potentially useless. So?"

Tarly shrugs. "Very well. He got caught stealing food, a lot of it, and then it turned out he was a notorious smuggler we have been looking for for a long time, so -"

"So he only ever smuggled goods and stole food? And why did you steal that food?"

It takes Davos one second to realize that the lord is talking to him.

He clears his throat.

"There's a family living next door to me in Flea Bottom," Davos says. "I was friends with the father. He - died recently. Couldn't make enough gold to feed all of them so he gave up on his own food, he worked at the port and died helping unloading a ship." That was bringing Dornish wine for whichever feast they're holding at the palace. "His wife didn't have anything to eat, either. I stole some bread from a bakery near the castle and they caught me."

"I imagine these neighbors of yours haven't eaten that bread now, did they?" The lord asks.

"My lord, you aren't believing him, are -"

"Lord Tarly, kindly let him talk."

Davos shakes his head. "No."

"How many children are you talking about?"

"Five," Davos sighs, wondering how bad they're having it right now.

"I think we should see if he's telling the truth," the lord says.

"Lord Stannis, this is nonsense -"

"I wish to see if he is," the man goes on, "and I would like to remind you, Lord Tarly, that my brother is your sovereign, so how about we do that and see if he's lying or not?"

If anything, I'll get to live a little longer.

Davos leads the way and throughout the entire trip, Lord Stannis does not talk or say anything, just looks ahead with gritting teeth, and when he sees that Davos was, in fact, not lying, he shakes his head, mutters something about Robert and everyone else not having their priorities straight and then shakes his head again.

"Lord Tarly," he says, "get someone to give these people some food. They're bloody starving. And he wasn't lying - that woman kept on singing his praises and honestly, again, he's a criminal but he's never killed anyone, or has he?"

"Not that we know of," Tarly says.

"What's your name?" Lord Stannis asks, and wait, is he talking directly to him for the second time, this is just - no single lord in existence ever looks at commoners this way, as far as he knows -

"Davos Seaworth," he says, "my lord."

"Well, as far as I can see here, you only ever stole and you were trying to do something decent and - never quite mind that. I think," he goes on, "that no one should hang and he swears to not commit crimes anymore and since he still should be punished, he loses the joints in his left hand for that and that's all there is to it."

"But -" Lord Tarly tries to object.

"What do you say?" Lord Stannis asks.

"That I would take that one deal in a heartbeat," Davos replies.

"Well then," Lord Stannis says, "I proposed it, I will do it myself so that no golden cloak of Lord Tarly's gets ideas about taking your whole hand."

Davos decides that it's wildly beyond his expectations, and nods.

He asks to keep the bones.

Lord Stannis looks at him as if he doesn't know why he would but he can, for all he cares, and Tarly's sour face is enough to make Davos forget the pain he feels when the sharp knife goes down almost instantly.

Lord Stannis tells him to try and behave properly from now and leaves muttering something about just wanting to go back to Storm's End, and -

Davos needs to know more.

The moment his fingertips don't bleed anymore and he has the bones safely stored in a pouch, he grabs his old cloak and heads for the tavern where everyone from the golden cloaks and the court hangs out.

Maybe he can find out more about who that one lord is, because sure as the Seven Hells he never ran into one like that.

The last thing he expects to find when he starts asking around the inn is that Sandor Clegane sits down in front of him.

If anything because the man shouldn't even hang around here - last he checked, he hasn't since he stopped going by that Hound nickname and ended up married to the Warden of the North's daughter somehow, and he doesn't even live in King's Landing anymore, but apparently he is, and - well. Davos had seen him around, back in the day. Now he looks... happier, he thinks. Not as angry. And those scars on his face haven't changed but his face looks somehow softer than before.

"I heard," he says, "you're askin' around about bloody Stannis Baratheon."

Oh, Davos thinks, so that was why Lord Tarly was that deferring to him. He could have gotten there when Stannis told him his brother was Lord Tarly's king, but - well. He hadn't been paying that much attention.

"Well," Davos says, "he made sure I didn't end up hanged and he just - I never knew any lord like that."

"Believe me, not many lords are like that one." Clegane takes a sip of ale, then shrugs. "Well, what did you need to know?"

"Just, shouldn't he be in the Stormlands? And what's this occasion thing that was for him that Lord Tarly was ranting about?"

"... You don't know, but of fucking course you wouldn't," Sandor shrugs, "it's not like they'd announce shit in Flea Bottom. Well, you know the royal ball they're holding at the Red Keep tomorrow?"

"Yes?"

"That's for him to pick someone he wants to marry," Clegane shrugs, "and he hates every second of it, not that anyone could blame his sorry ass."

"... Explain," Davos says. That just doesn't fucking make sense.

"I'll make it short," Clegane shrugs, "but he married this... lady Florent something some ten years ago 'cause his brother picked her for him and apparently he's the only one in that family who gets the short straw about everyfuckingthing. And when they went for the bedding they found Robert in bed with some other woman."

"His marriage bed?"

"Well, yeah," Clegane goes on, "and then they had a daughter but she was born with grayscale so half of her face is scarred, her mother fell in with some witch from Asshai and decided that her daughter was an abomination and turned out she wanted to burn her alive, long story short when it happened of course he broke off the marriage and I have no idea where the fuck she ended, but since then he hasn't had anyone offer their daughter's hand. Because everyone thinks he's dull and he said that even if he had a son with another woman he'd consider his daughter his heir or anyway he wouldn't let her get the fucking short straw, too, and like, while a second Baratheon son is not fucking little, he has no offers. But now it looks like he has to get fucking married or his younger brother can't marry bloody Loras Tyrell, either, and they came to that ball compromise. If you wonder how I know all of this, my lady wife spent the entire trip to King's Landing from Winterfell sharing about that and saying that it was a pity poor Stannis never got his good love story, so there's fucking that."

"And the ball's point is...?"

"That if he likes anyone he meets he gets to pick his bride. Or whatever the fuck else."

Davos nods. "I see," he says. "And you're saying people think he's dull?"

Clegane shrugs again. "I mean, I don't personally give a fuck and I think he's all right, but his brothers are both... more suited for fucking court, I guess. And he obviously hates court. And he says he won't have anyone who won't accept his daughter, which means whoever shows up will be really desperate daughters of minor lords. Does this satisfy your questions?"

"It does," Davos says, looking down at his hand.

"Wait," Clegane says, "he did that?"

"The alternative was Lord Tarly hanging me, Ser," Davos replies.

"I'm not one and good fucking riddance to me. Huh." He looks at Davos, and Davos holds the stare, wishing he knew what the man was thinking, and then -

"You want to go to that ball, don't you."

It's not posed as a question.

Davos swallows. "I mean," he says, "I - if he had been some knight or not a fucking lord I'd have... tried to talk to him, I guess. I just - he didn't seem stuck-up like the others. And he did save my life. But please, and how would I even get in there? I'm a fucking smuggler and I was born and bred in Flea Bottom of all places, certainly I am not invited."

"No," Sandor replies, "but - ah, fucking bugger it to the seven hells and back, I've been in his place."

"Lord Stannis's?"

"Yes," he says, "as in, I thought no one would ever look at me like that, except that it happened and you are sort of having that look while thinking about him, and I highly doubt he wants a fucking princess or whatever."

What in the Seven Hells - Davos thinks, but then Clegane half-smiles, the scarred side of his mouth curling up in what looks a damned genuine grin, and -

"You're a smuggler, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes?" Davos replies. "Even if I guess I shouldn't risk it anymore, should -"

"Think you can be at that small bay near the kitchens tomorrow at this hour?"

"I - I could?"

"Be there," Clegane says, "I absolutely want to see the fucking faces of all those arses after."

"After what?"

"You'll find out," the man says, and then stands up and leaves.

He looks cheerful.

What the fucking fuck, Davos thinks, and then decides that he has nothing to lose. He can be there tomorrow.

He expects Clegane to be there.

Instead -

"Davos Seaworth?" A tall, blonde woman with very pretty blue eyes, a nose that was broken twice and shoulders worthy of a knight tells him - she's dressed in good male garb, and she has a knife at her hip, but she doesn't sound hostile.

"Uh, yes," he says, "lady...?"

"Brienne of Tarth," she introduces herself and wait -

"Aren't you - Ser Jaime Lannister's -"

"Yes," she interrupts him, "and Sandor told me to come get you and believe me, I was much glad to because that ball is a stupid farce and I get why Stannis would hate it and I have my reasons to want to have a laugh at everyone else's antics. Do follow me," she says, and leads him through some tunnel going inside the castle from the small cave nearby.

Davos tries to remember how the hell she got married to Lannister - it was pretty talked about in the city, back in the day. He still was in the Kingsguard and she had been in Renly Baratheon's following and they ended up fighting in some tourney and they tied and two weeks later he had resigned from the Kingsguard somehow - his sister, the Queen regent, hadn't apparently been happy but Rhaegar Targaryen agreed to it, so Davos supposes he had some leverage - and they eloped on Tarth and he's halfway sure Tywin Lannister still has his son disowned for that, or half-disowned, but he still obviously is invited to courtly events. Davos has no fucking clue how nobles do this, but he follows Brienne thought a few more tunnels until she leads him out and into a corridor and into a small but richly furnished room.

"Right," she says, "just... wait a bit here. And - well. I, uh, didn't know your Lord Stannis much before we... ended up talking to each other a while ago, and - I get where he's been and no one wants to be the center of a feast where they know they're going to be laughed at. So, I'm pretty sure he will be relieved."

"Of what?"

"You'll know shortly," she half-smiles, and then closes the door.

What the fuck, Davos thinks for the umpteenth time, and a few moments later the door opens.

Now.

Davos has heard of Jaime Lannister enough to know on sight that the blonde man coming through the door is him, and the younger girl on the side with bright auburn hair and blue eyes - oh. She has a Stark sigil on her dress. Is she -

"Lady Sansa," Lannister says, "your husband wasn't lying, was he?"

"No," she smiles back, "but this is going to be good."

"My lord," Davos stammers, "my lady. Uh, what is this about?"

"Oh," Sansa replies, grinning, "it's about getting you to that ball. Ser," she tells Lannister, "mind instructing him while I find him the right clothing?"

"Absolutely," Lannister smiles wider.

Seven fucking hells, Davos thinks, I'm never going to survive this.

"See," Lannister goes on, "when Clegane told me that he thought you might want to go to the ball because you actually did like Stannis we about all fainted in our little corner of no one thoughts we should have married the way we did so we'll leave you alone, but honestly, the guy pretty much does his brother's job because Robert doesn't really give a damn about being a decent ruler, then he pretty much gave up everything he wanted for either of his brothers and they never said thanks and he was one of the few idiots who when I, uh, resigned, said I should be able to." He shrugs. "Also, he was nicer to Brienne than his actual brother that she wanted to swear herself to, so. I kind of owe him and his daughter is a nice girl. She doesn't deserve a shit stepmother."

"And you all decided that I am the solution to the problem?" Davos asks from behind a screen where he's trying on the clothes Sansa brought him after she got a bath brought over to the room and he had to hear Lannister giving him tips to get through the ball while he was washing.

"You're here and you're thanking the guy for having cut off your finger joints, please. And no one cares where you come from - at least the four of us - and he certainly won't. Come on, out of that screen."

Davos sighs and does, and Sansa does whistle a bit. "Told you," she says, "they'd fit."

"Oh, they do," Lannister replies, and tells Davos to go look at himself in the mirror near the window.

Davos does, and -

Well. He felt out of place dressed in fine dark green silks with golden embroideries and a velvet brown coat, but it does fit him, and the black new leather boots Sansa got him are the best shoes he's ever worn, and now that he could get a good cleaning - well. He's still himself, but he's pretty sure half of his friends wouldn't recognize him.

"Take this," Lannister says, handing him a sword. "Now, what could the story be - oh, he's some hedge knight I met while killing bandits with Brienne and we thought to invite him?"

"Sounds good," Sansa nods, "and you could invite him. He probably shouldn't say he's from King's Landing, though."

"Absolutely not," Lannister agrees. "Hm. How about Cape Wrath?"

"Better," she nods, "though I suppose his real name shouldn't come out."

"No," Lannister shakes his head. "Ser, choose one. Oh, should he be a bastard? Imagine their faces."

"I think we should absolutely go for that," she grins back. "So, a name?"

"Uh, Allard?" Davos blurts his father's name, may his soul rest in peace.

"Allard Storm, sounds good," Lannister grins. "Well, you're a hedge knight, you met me and my lady wife while chasing bandits and we invited you because why the hell not," he says. "I hope you can dance, Seaworth."

"... I don't think so," Davos replies. "I mean, I never did."

Maybe he should have lied.

Maybe he'd have spared himself those two actually teaching him on the spot.

When he's pushed out of the room a while later, he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing here, but -

But he still doesn't want to run away.

Fuck, what did I get myself into? He asks himself, and then walks on anyway.

“I should have never agreed to this farce,” Stannis whispers as he sloshes wine he knows he won’t drink in his glass.

Good thing he’s telling Brienne of Tarth that and not anyone else, because he thinks no one else in this room would understand how it feels - she nods, and thankfully she doesn’t argue about it.

But what should she argue? Each single lady who came looked at him like her father forced her here, it’s a ball in his name and he’s technically not danced with anyone yet, not that he would want to, Renly and Loras meanwhile are doing it and everyone is looking at them anyway, which... is exactly what he knew was going to happen. Never mind his daughter who asked him fifteen times if they really had to participate and he thinks wasn’t openly laughed at yet just because anyone who might has been properly scolded by their lordly parents on that one topic, but the last time he saw her she was standing miserably to the side.

“I’ve been there,” she says, “and I wouldn’t want to be in your position ever again anyway. But -” She clears her throat, “I think that you might change your mind.”

“Oh, and how?”

“Jaime, uh, he made a friend the other day. While we were out checking the woods.”

“And?”

“And he invited him along. I think that you might... well. Like him. Or at least not be thoroughly bored.”

“At least,” Stannis sighs, and really, he doesn’t begrudge her for having found better than his damned brother, because she did deserve it as much as he’d have never bet a coin on Jaime Lannister of everyone being anyone’s ideal partner, but still, this entire exercise is just reminding him of how much no one actually would want him even for... companionship, if nothing else, and -

Why did he even agree to this bloody farce, he really wishes -

“Oh, here they are,” she says, and yes, Lannister is apparently arguing with - Lord Varys, seven hells, of course he was in charge of vetoing who was allowed in, and there’s a man next to him, indeed, but he has a hood over his head - a nice velvet coat without too many pretenses, so he can’t see his face, but then it seems like Lannister has his way and manages to get the man in, and then he whispers something his way and - comes over to the both of them?

“Stannis,” he smiles, entirely too gloating about it, “it’s your event and you let your brother steal the spotlight?”

“What do you think even happened?” Stannis sighs back - he’s not even going to antagonize him.

“I see I have to do everything tonight. Brienne, fancy making sure that people stop only having eyes for Renly while he mingles?”

“I fancy,” she grins, and of course she does, the room usually starts whispering the moment they dance together since she’s never not led and it’s apparently worth whispering about, and so when they’re off, Stannis sighs and walks to the side, figuring he will try to make an effort and talk to anyone who will -

And then he sees that Lannister’s mysterious friend is talking to his daughter and she’s smiling at him before running off somewhere - oh, where Tyrion Lannister is lounging, Stannis notices, and what -

“Ser,” he clears his throat, moving closer, “would it be too much if I asked you how you got my daughter to - do that?” He blurts, hating how awkward he sounds -

“I told her,” the man replies, and wait, isn’t the voice familiar, “that she looked very lonely, she explained me how she loathed this feast and I suggested her that she might want to talk to someone who likes what she does, and Ser Jaime has told me enough about his brother to know they might have something to discuss. But I am hardly a ser, my lord.”

Stannis glances down at the man’s left hand while the man pulls down the hood.

Oh.

He’s - he doesn’t have the finger joints on his left hand.

He’s -

“I see you understood,” the man - what was his name, Davos Seaworth - says.

“I might,” Stannis replies, “and may I inquire how you’re here?”

He’ll be thrice fucked if Davos didn’t... sort of flush under his beard. Which... looks a lot better now that it’s well-groomed, and then a pair of warm brown eyes meets his own, and -

“I asked around who you might be, since no one else in your place would have actually insisted to save the life of... well. A common criminal, let’s put it like that. And I met someone who decided that I sounded entirely too interested and I should attend the ball and they helped me sneak in, and I never felt like it was a mistake, so... sounds like I am here. But if you don’t wish me to -”

“Please,” Stannis shakes his head, feeling slightly dizzy, “no one until now made me feel like they actually weren’t forced to be here and... you went through all that effort to just... talk to me peer to peer? Or, well. The closest one might get to it.”

“I thought I’d just want to thank you in person,” Davos replies, “but now that I’m here, I think I’d like to stay a while, and not just for the good food. Fancy taking a stroll out, my lord? Unless you’d rather watch your brother seethe.”

“Renly is doing what,” Stannis replies, and turns to look at the scene -

Well.

Renly is seething because everyone is whispering about Brienne twirling Jaime Lannister around the floor like she was born to do that. He shouldn’t be smiling. But maybe he is, a tiny bit.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t, but - well.”

“I won’t judge people for being petty,” Davos replies, “but - is there a reason why?”

Stannis shrugs. “Well, he kind of hates that he hasn’t managed to... be officially with his intended because of me, and he never fails to remind me that everyone thinks me dull in comparison to him, and I never quite forgot that he once said it would be a miracle if I’d find anyone who’d take my daughter because of her face, so. Well. If Brienne is upstaging him, I’ll live with it.”

Davos looks at him, then at the rest of the room.

“I see,” he says, “and I can’t blame you. She was perfectly nice with me.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Stannis says, “but - maybe I would like that stroll.” What is he even saying -

“Then we should,” Davos replies, half-smiling, and he looks so damned kind -

What the hell is happening?

The hell, Stannis realizes, is that he actually does like this man.

They just - they just talked while music came faintly from the outside, and it’s probably sad that it’s novel experience to talk to someone who actually seems to give a damn about what he has to say and listens to him except Davos actually does, and when Davos talks about how he ended up becoming a criminal and almost hanged he kind of can’t help feeling guilty when he looks down at the man’s left hand.

Fucking Seven Hells, he might be a smuggler, but when someone tells you well where I came from it was a struggle to put any food on the table at all and with my first smuggling job when I was fourteen I could pay for it for a month can you even blame them for not having looked back and found an honest job?

He thinks about how he never had to worry about his next meal.

“I think I have to apologize to you,” he says quietly when Davos finishes telling him about how he couldn’t sleep at night hearing those starving children wail.

“... You don’t,” Davos replies, shaking his head.

“I do,” Stannis goes on. “I mean... I still think stealing is a crime and crimes should be punished or - or what else makes sense, but when one hears your circumstances... I feel like I should have just have you swear you wouldn’t live that life anymore. I could. And instead -”

“Oh, you made sure I didn’t lose an entire hand or hang, and we both know Lord Tarly wouldn’t have been happy with just letting me go. I can appreciate fair play, my lord, and I mean, I did commit crimes. I did keep the bones, anyway.”

“You - did?”

Davos nods towards... oh. A small pouch that he has hanging around his neck. Stannis hadn’t noticed it before, but -

“I decided I’d keep them in memory of the one time one lord was actually fair to me, but then - then I met Clegane and he told me to show up here. Also... shouldn’t someone have looked for us by now?”

It’s been a while. The music is still playing. No one did.

He shakes his head. “As if they’d care,” he says, “most likely they were just waiting for me to leave so they could stop pretending to be nice.”

Davos just looks at him, and then he swallows, and -

“Beg your pardon if this is too forward,” he asks, “but maybe my lord fancies dancing somewhere not in front of all those people?”

“I - I don’t generally do that,” Stannis replies. Why is his heart beating faster?

“Oh, I don’t dance to that kind of music either, but who is going to see us?”

Stannis has slipped his hand into Davos’s before he can think on it.

What am I even doing, he thinks, noticing how the other man’s hands are roughened - he took away the gloves and he can feel how the right one is all clean but calloused skin and the left has fresh scarring on the joints, but they hold his own so very gently, and -

And neither of them is really good at this, because he hasn’t danced in years and Davos is obviously winging it based on what he saw in the hall, but it’s nice, and twirling around the garden without anyone staring at him feels nice, and when he looks at Davos’s kind, warm brown eyes his stomach flips over again, and -

“This - this is nice,” he finally admits.

“It... it is,” Davos says back, and he’s half-smiling and - “If this is the first and last time I get to be at a royal ball, I’m not going to think it wasted time at all.”

Gods, gods, why the idea that he wouldn’t see him again is making him feel like the ground will fall open under his feet and swallow him whole?

“What if I don’t want it to be?” He finds himself saying, and Davos gasps at it.

“... Really?”

“Really,” he says, feeling like his head is spinning and he can’t stop talking, “never mind that - no one I know managed to make my daughter happy like that talking to her once. And - that was one of the conditions I had for Robert. That I wouldn’t... be with anyone who’d treat her poorly.”

“Why would anyone? She’s a lovely girl,” Davos replies, and oh, if he knew.

“You saw her. And her mother wanted to burn her alive. Not many people agree with you.”

“Then most people are idiots,” Davos replies, “if I may be so bold.”

“You may,” Stannis replies, and they’re still swinging, and - “You may be as bold as you like.”

He doesn’t know how he said that. He doesn’t even know where that comes from.

What he knows is that Davos’s mouth is on his the moment after and -

And he’s fucking kissing back the moment it happens and had he been hoping for it? Gods maybe he had, and the few times he kissed Selyse were nothing like this, she never - it never felt like she wanted to actually do it and Davos does, there is no fucking way he doesn’t, and his tongue is slipping into Stannis’s mouth and he groaned into it, oh fuck -

“Stannis, where the fuck did you end up?”

Oh, damn it, that was Robert -

They break apart and Stannis is about to tell Davos to just stay and that he’ll deal with it, but then other people talk and -

“Damn,” Davos says, “that’s Lord Tarly, and he will recognize me.”

... He would, Stannis realizes, and -

“Oh, fuck,” Davos says, and then he takes the pouch with the bones from his neck and slams it into Stannis’s palm and -

“If you want me to come back,” Davos replies, half-smiling, “you just have to bring them back to me. You know where I live, my lord.”

“I - I do,” Stannis whispers.

“Then - then I hope to see you soon, my lord. If not... I’m not regretting that you’ll get to keep that.”

And then he’s gone and Robert and his fucking search group have shown up a moment later.

“What were you even doing out here?” Robert asks. “You know that you have to choose a wife before the feast is over?”

Oh, fuck him and fuck them all, Stannis thinks.

“About that,” he says, “I think I know. But I can tell you when we go back in.”

It’s going to be a goddamned problem, he knows, but -

But.

He’s almost never trusted his gut his entire life and it only ever brought him trouble, and now he wants to, and -

And.

And he knows.

“You’re not marrying a criminal!” Robert explodes later, when the hall has been emptied except for them, Renly, his daughter, Lord Tarly, the present Tyrells, Starks and Lannisters and of course Rhaegar Targaryen and the members of the small council, but he seems to be uninterested in how this ends one way or the other.

“I said I could choose whoever I wanted, didn’t you?” He stares back.

“I didn’t mean a damned criminal, Stannis! And how did a commoner even get in here? Lannister, what were you thinking?”

Jaime Lannister merely shrugs, half-grinning while his father looks at him like he’s a lost cause. His sister... Stannis isn’t even going to think about that. “That he looked and sounded like someone he’d like and so I invited him. Sure, we did tell him to not introduce himself with his real name, for obvious reasons, but -”

“A bloody commoner, Lannister!”

“Oh,” Lannister shrugs, “and so what? He stole some things. He never harmed anyone as far as we knew. You could have worse brothers in law.”

“Are you bloody serious - Stannis, please, no way -”

“And why?” He counteracts. “I am not interested in having any more children,” he goes on, “I do have an heir, and he would certainly not try to make sure she stops being that, and I wanted someone she’d like too, and I think she did, or -”

“I did,” she replies quietly, and Robert rolls his eyes.

“Shireen, this man is a smuggler, your father isn’t reasoning -”

“Well,” she says, “I have talked to him once and he was nicer than just about anyone else at the feast. Or - well. I don’t think I should say.”

“Shireen, you can.”

“I don’t think I can tell you. It wouldn’t be polite. And you would be sad.”

“Let’s say,” Lannister says, “that she can tell me in all confidence outside the room and I can come back with the answer if it’s something that could be shared?”

Stannis should be worried that Shireen seems fine with that, but then again he’s the brother of the guy who entertained her for half of the feast, right? And why would she think he would be sad?

Anyway. Lannister brings her out of the room, and then comes back and -

“I told her she could go find my brother,” he says, and oh, the youngest Lannister did flee the premises while they were arguing, “and - well. Renly,” he says, “honestly, she said that the criminal commoner was nicer to her in five minutes than you’ve ever been your entire life, maybe you should think about that sometimes.”

Of course -

At least Renly has the grace to look ashamed, and Robert groans again, and -

Ah, seven hells.

“Robert,” he says, “this entire farce was to make sure I would find anyone suitable so Renly could have his lavish wedding and whatnot. You said I could choose anyone. I happen to have chosen. If my daughter likes him, too, even better, and honestly, you are the king, Renly will have the Tyrell alliance and certainly my daughter won’t be your heir, so what do you care? People will talk and decide I lost my wits, and would that be any news? Just stop being unreasonable.”

Robert stares at him, and then -

“Seven hells,” he sighs, “you never stood up that much for anything in your life as much as - whatever this is. Fucking - ah, well, I suppose I can just find some way to make sure the three of you aren’t around court too much.”

“Believe me, both Shireen and I would be thoroughly pleased,” Stannis says, and then Robert raises his hands to the ceiling.

“Whatever. Go ahead, find this guy, as long as I can move forward with the other damned wedding.”

“Why, thank you, extremely kind of you, Your Grace,” he says, and then he turns on his heel and gets out of the room.

He’s not surprised when Lannister follows him. “Should I tell my brother to keep your daughter entertained for a while longer?”

“Please,” he says, “and I don’t know how much I have to thank you, but -”

“Just go get the guy and remember that Brienne’s father is only too glad to host her friends on Tarth. He’s exceedingly glad she has some,” he winks, and then goes to - find his brother and Shireen, he supposes, and -

“My lord,” Sandor Clegane says, appearing suddenly at his right as he gets out of the castle, “you need an escort to Flea Bottom, mayhaps?”

“I don’t even want to know how you knew,” he sighs, and stops asking himself why apparently is there some kind of conspiracy to help him out with - whatever this is.

He also doesn’t want to know how Clegane says he knows the way when Stannis asks him if he remembers how to get to the house he visited a few days ago.

Davos had half expected the knock on the door.

He hadn’t been sure it would happen, but -

He’s nowhere near surprised when he opens it and Stannis is there with Sandor Clegane in the background winking at him and then making himself scarce.

“This place is a lot fouler by night than by day, if possible,” Stannis says, walking into Davos’s one-room shack, not that he could afford any better.

“But you knew that already, my lord, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Stannis whispers, and his eyes look so blue in the candlelight, and then he’s handing Davos back the pouch with the bones -

“Is it.. I thought it was heavier,” Davos says, taking it.

Stannis shrugs, lifting up his cloak. He has a similar pouch tied to his waist.

What -

“I took the liberty to split it,” he whispers, “if - if it’s not a problem.”

“It’s not,” Davos says, “but does it mean that -”

“My brother has agreed to... my choice, if we lay low. But I think that it woudn’t be a problem. And - I never do things not overthinking them. But - my daughter likes you, and I like you, and honestly, no one would have gone through the effort you did just to... talk to me or whatever, and - this is, if -”

“Yes,” Davos interrupts.

“Wait, yes?”

“I can’t believe I actually am saying it myself, but of course. I do.. quite like you, my lord.”

“Well, if we are to be... to be, maybe you can do away with that?”

“I could be persuaded,” Davos says, and he leans in and they’re kissing again and this time is slower and Stannis’s hand is slightly trembling as he touches the back of his hair and he’s not even wearing his fine clothes now, he put them away before but Stannis doesn’t seem to care an inch and when he groans into Davos’s mouth again he grasps at the back of his head and -

Well.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to navigate things considering that he can’t even bloody damn well read, but who cares. He’ll learn. He just -

He likes Stannis, damn it, and he wants to see it through, and if it means they’ll have to lay low because other lords are damned stupid, who cares.

10.

“Well,” Jaime says, “we can expect a lot of gossip.”

“In what sense?” Brienne replies, wishing she didn’t have to reply to ravens when they’re on Tarth, but his father insists that she does because she’ll take his place one day.

“My brother writes me that Shireen Baratheon writes him that she’s never been happier now that they’re at that castle in Cape Wrath, that she’s taught Seaworth to read admirably well and she has a lot of fun with that and that she’s delighted because he is actually a thoroughly nice guy and her father is happy and she’s never seen him happy before, they didn’t go to Renly’s wedding and they didn’t miss it at all and apparently everyone in town is happy they’re there because they don’t have to go to Robert for inquiries or asking anything and Sannis is a lot fairer than Robert was anyway, and no one is actually dying of hunger in there anymore, so I guess that they’re doing well - oh, this is golden.”

“What is golden?”

“That Robert is of course not taking a wife until Lyanna Stark capitulates to his courting but he’s certainly having children here and there, so he’s sending some of them to their place and I think they have what, two of them there, and Shireen is delighted because she finally has some company, and imagine that, Sansa Stark came visiting there with her husband and sister once because I suppose she wanted to see how well her matchmaking had worked and her sister is smitten with one of said bastard sons. And they had to lay low, imagine that,” he laughs. “Well, when were they supposed to visit?”

“A month from now?”

“There’s going to be so much gossip,” he keeps on muttering, and she lets him - he has all the reasons to gloat about it.

She smiles to herself as she takes another raven and starts penning it - she might as well send them some more congratulations before they come visit.

After all, after they became friendly, she did hope that he’d find someone he would be happy with same as she did instead of always staying in Renly’s shadow, which she’d have been happy with herself... before realizing she deserved better.

She’s really glad he did.

And she can’t wait to host them too - if they got the happy ending, no point in not celebrating it, isn’t it?

#stavos #stannis baratheon #davos seaworth #jaime x brienne #sandor x sansa #my fic #ten years anniversary promptfest #anonymous #ask post #ANON THIS WAS A LABOR OF LOVE IDK HOW LONG IT WAS BUT #I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #*drops*#FROM TOMORROW I'M TRYING TO ACTUALLY FILL MORE THAN ONE #this is so long #i hope it doesn't break your dashes #my stuff

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hanii-rose · 3 years

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•Hello again, I’m the anon who requested gender neutral s/o! Thank you so much for writing such beautifully-written story between Garou and them. I’ve ended up loving it very much it was very good read, aww big kudos for you! ❤❤

And for the next request, as the fandom still hyped about part-timer Garou, how about of the continuation of the previous story:

The s/o has a stable job already, right? And Garou realized that currently being a freeloader in s/o’s house makes him a bit guilty. So he decided to lessen the s/o’s burden by taking a part-time job.

The s/o actually don’t mind of Garou being a freeloader, but seeing Garou becomes so determinated about it the s/o can’t help but feel very proud and happy for him.

Lots of fluffy moments after both of them finished working, like cooking a simple dinner together at home, resting their tired bodies on the couch while cuddling lovingly, Garou and the s/o sharing a lot of soft kisses during it while the s/o praising Garou’s hardworking, etc.

And as it’s the continuation of “Reunited’, of course the s/o is still a gender neutral.

Thank you so much and have nice days! 💖•

I’m so happy that I finally got to this one. There were a few requests before it so I had to complete those and I also had to write for the story on AO3 (-_-;) Sorry if I made you wait too long hehe I’m glad you enjoyed the first one tho

_________________________________________

Reunited Part 2

Garou x GenderNeutral!Reader

You stepped through your door after returning from your 9-5 job. Your muscles and joints ached and you stretched your body in an effort to wake yourself up, the plastic bag full of groceries crinkling with every move.

"I’m home…” you softly called, unable to produce a louder noise.

You took your work shoes off along with your coat and scarf, discarding them carelessly by the door, too tired to put them away.

You heard footsteps approaching and smiled when the Garou came towards you. You walked up to him and fell into his arms. Loosely wrapping your arms around his neck, you spoke softly.

“I am so tired today. I can’t even walk straight…”

He quirked a brow. His arms slithered around your waist and he picked you up, taking the bag of groceries from you and putting it on the kitchen counter on the way the bathroom down the hall.

“Another rough day, huh?”

Garou questioned softly and you nodded yawning.

“You have no idea…”

Garou set you down onto the stable counter of your bathroom and helped you out of your office pants, sliding then down your legs. You were left in your white shirt and socks.

Garou left after fixing you a warm bath. Undressing completely, you sat yourself down in your tub, the water temperature hot enough to soothe the undeniable ache in your bones from such a hard day of deskwork.

After washing yourself and sitting in the relaxing steam for an hour, you opted to get up and leave. Garou brought you your pajamas and you slipped them on, stretching and walking out of the tiled room with a towel in your hands.

“Ya finally done…?”

Garou asked deeply, sitting on the black couch of your apartment. You sighed and plopped down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. His fingers came up to massage your sides and you leaned in closer, the two of you now laying on the couch, Garou’s head on the armrest and your body on top of his.

“Mm, this feels good…” you said, slightly drowsy.

“Yeah.”

The two of you laid in silence, the only sound coming from the T.V. opposite from the couch. Garou turned the volume down, setting the mood perfectly. His hands circled your waist, exclusively close to your derrière. His hot breath fanned your ear and you found yourself nuzzling into him even more.

Your eyes slowly shut themselves and you curled up into a comfortable position. Oh boy, this felt so…cozy.

“C'mon, why are you fallin’ asleep on me?”

Garou’s voice rang out and you instantly awoke from your drowsy state.

“Oh, um…sorry. I’m just very sleepy today.”

“Too much work these days…”

You leaned towards his cheek, connecting your lips with it. And with that you wearily stood up and spoke, “I’m just gonna go take a nap. Too tired to function…”

Garou nodded, reluctantly, and let you go. He watched you tiredly carry yourself to your bedroom and fall flat on top of the mattress, immediately falling asleep.

Garou sighed to himself and leaned back onto the armrest of the couch. This had been going on for a number of days. You come home from work, he bathes you and takes care of you, he tries to fuck you and love you but you blow him off for sleep.

It was starting to get infuriating. But why was this happening to you? Things weren’t like this the first month he was here…

In fact, a lot of things had changed since the end of the month. Your fridge used to be stacked with food, you used to have a lot more things around and most importantly, you were livelier.

It was like he turned everything around for you….

Oh, shit.

He did, didn’t he? Fuck!

You were only so tired because you worked harder to support the two of you, you bought the groceries all by yourself, you cooked for him, man he was just taking and taking.

Garou exhaled harshly on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands in a frustrated manner. He’s such an idiot…

Ok ok, think. What do you do when someone lets you freeload in their house, eat their food, lie around all day and be the laziest bum you can be?

Oh, that’s right! You get a job.

He’s made up his mind. He is going to get a job, but there’s no way in hell he’s gonna tell you that. He doesn’t need you gushing over how sweet and cute he is, not wanting to re-experience the time you teased him for trying to make a pancake. He just wanted to be nice without being called a sweetheart, c'mon!

Now, back to the matter at hand. What job can he actually get that doesn’t require any form of experience or education?

You grab a packet of sweetener from the coffee drawer, tearing open the little paper on top and pouring it into the foam cup that held your recently brewed coffee. You silently stirred with the swizzle stick, observing the boring people of your office from the small break room you stood in.

Leaning against the white counter, you sipped the hot substance and sighed in contentment when it travelled down your throat. You slipped your phone out of your pocket and leisurely scrolled through the recent news articles which lined the screen, stopping to read anything important.

And so you spent the next 10 minutes of your 20 minute break just dawdling around on your phone. You threw away the small cup of coffee that had become too cold and bitter for your liking and trekked back to your office, pushing open the pristine glass doors.

Putting your phone away back into your pocket, you took a seat in your office chair, booting up your computer to get back to making spreadsheets and going over the accounts drafted for last month.

You sighed in boredom, correcting some errors made by your ex-deskmates. It feels so good to have your own office, feels so good to get away from those vermin and feels so good being their boss. Yep, getting a promotion was the best. The only down side was that you had way more work now, your underlings tend to make too many mistakes when it comes to balance sheets. You hadn’t told Garou the news yet, you wanted to do it over a cute dinner. It would be way more impactful that way.

Ah, Garou. He always made you feel better after a long day. Just seeing his cute big head relieved you of all the stress that you carried home. Not to mention the amazing feeling of his unexpectedly soft hair between your fingers as you tug and weave or the overwhelming feeling of his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close and holding your sore body. The touch of his warm mouth on your lips, kissing and worshipping it, invading every intimate part of your form. And the way his tongue felt on your

DING!

Oh, an email from your boss? What’s this about? The she-devil up there never emailed her employees for anything good…

Subject: Executive meeting

Dear D-Wing Employee,

Good Morning. Our company, as you are aware, will be merging with a larger firm, hopefully bringing us larger and more profitable trades.

It has been brought to my attention that many of our business partners and executive directors will be hosting a meeting in the D-Wing of our establishment. It would be most appreciated if all of our D-Wing employees would be willing to postpone their work for a day to enable our higher ups and VIPs to perform the necessary actions in completing this fortunate exchange between two efficient companies, striving to bring better service to the people.

The delay of work shall last from today 10:00 A.M. to tomorrow 12:00 P.M. Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any concerns about this matter, please submit a written letter to the E-Wing, describing your issues.

Best Regards,

Senior Director, Akari Hina

Woah, so you’re basically getting the rest of the day off? And no work at all tomorrow? Hm, maybe your boss isn’t so bad after all.

Packing up and grabbing your coat, you turned off your computer and headed straight for the door, running past all of the other D-Wing employees readying themselves to leave.

Garou sat in the office of a delivery firm, arms crossed and leg bouncing up and down, antsy. He eyed the man in front of him, clad in a suit and tie and looking through the 5 minute resume that Garou printed up.

“So, you’re an expert in ‘being strong’ and 'being cool’. You don’t have much experience, you’re only 18 and you created this resume by yourself?”

Garou nodded, fiddling with the edge of the gray scarf you had gifted him. Ah, another reason to get a job, give you a gift.

“So, did you pass highschool or…? Sorry, I’m confused.”

The man took off his glasses, wiping it with a little cloth that was left on his desk, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, I left after my third year…”

Garou confirmed, and the man put his glasses back on, and intertwined his fingers on the desk between them.

“That’s good enough. It’ll do. Which department are you looking to work in? We have filing, storage, delivery and cleaning. But you look like a strong kid, storage would be perfect for you.”

Garou thought for a moment, face twisting in confusion. Filing…ugh reading. Storage, hmm not bad. Delivery isn’t hard. He refuses to clean after the slobs here.

“I’m up for anything that has heavy work, no reading or cleaning, thanks.”

He curtly informed his soon to be boss. The suited man huffed and opened up his desk drawer for a notepad.

“Sign these and we’ll get you started. Deliveries should be fine, no?”

Garou picked up a pen and signed away, paper after paper. Who knew FedEx had so many policies?

After providing enough details on the notepad and filling up all of the consent forms, Garou stood up, pushing his chair back slightly. He went to turn the knob of the little office door but was halted by the voice of the man, or should he say, his new boss.

“I’ll have my assistant bring you your uniform, also get rid of the hair. It won’t fit in the hat…”

Garou turned the knob exiting the office and strode out into the garage. A small man walked up to him with a transparent bag of clothes, hiding his face behind it. The only thing he could completely discern about the boy was his name written on the tag near his breast pocket, Ibiki.

“Here is your uniform. When you come back tomorrow, we’ll make a name tag for you.”

The cheery, blushing boy spoke, informing Garou of what he needs to do next. Taking the packet from his hands, Garou asked for a bag to put his new clothes in.

Ibiki scurried off to find a bag and retrieved an empty white one, filling it with the plastic packet.

“Thanks.”

Garou was about to walk out when he heard the kid call out to him.

“Hey Mister! You forgot to take our card. You’ll need the bosses number. See, right here. And this one’s mine!”

Ibiki pointed out the two separate cell numbers and Garou nodded. Ibiki placed a shaky hand on Garou’s shoulder and patted the spot, saying something along the lines of 'you’ll love working with us!’. Whatever, he doesn’t care, all he wanted to do was make your life a little bit easier.

You had arrived home an hour ago, Garou nowhere in sight. You decided to shower and read a book while you waited for him to come home. You had already purchased lunch for the two of you on your way back, deciding that the contents in your fridge weren’t good enough to work with.

After Garou had shown up, things had turned for the better. It seemed like he brought you good luck wherever you went. You could recall the time when Garou wasn’t with you, and frankly, they weren’t the best. He made your life a lot more interesting than what it was before.

Standing up and stretching, you trailed towards your bedroom with your book in hand, opting to lay down comfortably and read. An hour and a half had passed and there was still no sign of Garou. But you had forgotten all about that. You munched on some chips in bed, flipping through the pages of your book, so immersed in it that your ears hadn’t caught the sound of your front door opening.

Garou walked into your shared home, taking off the jacket and scarf and hanging it behind the door. The bag which held his new uniform was hung in the wall closet in the living room. He washed himself up and looked around, expecting you to not be here as usual, but something caught his eye. Your work shoes! Weren’t you wearing these today?

Wait were you home…?

He looked around the house, checking each each and every room when he finally decided to check your bedroom.

Opening the door, he waltzed in, his eyes perceived you on your bed, laying on your stomach with your eyes glued to the book in your hand, potato chip hanging from your lips.

You still hadn’t noticed him in the room and he fully took advantage of that. Creeping around the edge of the bed, he stopped momentarily behind you. He licked his lips at the sight of your butt, clad in tight, black trousers. Without warning, he jumped onto you, his hips landing right on top of your ample behind, rough, trained hands gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You yelped in surprise, book flying across the bed as you jumped, or tried to, out of the way.

“W-where did you come from?!”

Your face twisted in annoyance as you asked.

“I should be asking you that. What are you doing home?”

Garou laid himself on top of you, his sharp chin resting on your head and fingers tightly grasping the mattress under you.

“I have the whole day off today! Now, will you please get off?”

Garou chuckled in excitement at your words, arms coming around to flip you over onto his chest as he turned himself over on his back.

“Never.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, relaxing down onto him.

“So, where were you this fine morning?”

Your question had not been answered for several seconds and you asked him again.

“Garou, where did you go?”

You turned around, still obove him, your chest to his. You gave him a questioning look, gesturing him to speak.

“Out.”

You quirked a brow, expression unamused.

“I know that!”

He sat up and hugged you, his sharp nose buried between you shoulder and neck, kissing the skin.

“With a friend.”

Garou said, eyes coming up to look at you, waiting for a response.

“Oh really? You have friends?”

He nodded hesitantly, avoiding direct eye contact.

Ok then, he was being weird… But you didn’t want to pry. What he does while he’s out is his business, there’s probably nothing to worry about. Its not like he’s cheating on you or anything, no, he would never do that, he’s not that kind of man.

HE’S THAT KIND OF MAN!

How could he? I-, You- How?! You were just coming home early from work. Turns out your new position didn’t require you to stay for long hours like before, so you just opted to come home. You had to take the long way around this time, passing by all of the urban workshops and postal firms because your normal road was being repaired. You passed by a FedEx warehouse and you could’ve sworn you saw silver hair and a gorgeous body, belonging to none other than Garou.

That was him for sure! Oh, when you get your hands on him…

You stomped your foot in anger at the scene unfolding before you. Garou, undressing in the wide open garage, taking off the clothes you had bought for him, to put on some drab brown and black shirt and pants. A small man hanging off from his shoulder as Garou walked to the desk to…collect something? What is that…?

The fragile looking boy next to him stopped in front of his chest and took what seemed to be a small card and clipped it to the front of Garou’s shirt. He beamed at Garou and your boyfriend turned to pick up the boxes that were strewn around the warehouse and pack them into individual trucks.

Wait a second. Was he working? Garou was working! Ohhh, of course! Yeah, you never doubted him for a second…

You strolled towards them, unknown to the two inside the dark garage, hiding behind the tall stack of boxes. Playfully walking up behind him, the small man gently tapped Garou on the shoulder. He turned around, large boxes still in hand, obscuring his vision.

“What do ya’ want now, Ibiki?!”

Garou’s sudden outburst scared the young man accompanying him, making him jump back frightened.

“The uh… b-boss wanted to umm… know if you could work overtime. Y-you’ll be payed…”

Answered the trembling voice of 'Ibiki’.

“No, I got better things waiting for me at home…”

Garou’s soft answer made you tear up somewhat, and you smiled very gently. Turning your heel, you trecked back home to wait for him. Oh, you might as well set up a surprise for him!

And so, you sneaked away, racing home to start setting up decorations for your hard working man.

It was around 2:00 in the afternoon when Garou had finally walked through the front door of your shared home. He let out a relaxed sigh and carefully hung his hat behind the wooden door rack and stretched. His shows had already been discarded near the doormat as he made his way over to the bathroom, passing by the living room decorated with fairy lights and a blanket fort.

Wait a second, fairy lights and a fort?! Did he walk into the wrong house?

He came closer to the blankets sprawled across the floor, getting on his knees and picking one up to inspect it, not expecting you to be under it waiting for him.

“SURPRISE!”

You jumped out from under all of the pillows and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his cheeks.

“What’s all this? Yer’ home early again?”

Garou questioned, a confused expression on his handsome face.

“A surprise for you, duh…”

He smirked and coyly slid his arms under your legs, picking you up and setting you down onto his lap.

“No, really? What’s the occasion?”

You gave him a look as if saying, 'seriously?’

“Well, I was walking home from work and I couldn’t take my usual route. I walked past a few shops and I saw you…working. I was so surprised…”

Your voice got quieter as it neared the end and you awkwardly twiddled your thumbs, eyes casted downwards.

“Garou, why…why didn’t you just tell me you got a job?”

Garou let out a huff and ran his fingers through your hair. He looked deep into your eyes and cast you a cute little blush.

“W-well, I know how ya’ kinda freak out when I do…anything so I didn’t say nothin’. I just wanted to help out, ya’ get so tired after comin’ home. I ain’t gonna sit around and watch ya’ work yer’ ass off for me…”

Your fingers gently caressed his face, bringing it closer to yours.

“Garou, the reason I’m so tired after coming home is because I’m still adjusting to my new post at the office. I got promoted and I promise, once I get the hang of it, I won’t be tired at all.”

Garou’s mouth enveloped yours in a sweet exchange, hands roaming your hips.

“I’m really proud of you though…”

Garou broke into a genuine smile, no teasing smirk or smug grin. A genuine stretch of his lips.

“And what do you mean I kind of freak out? I do not!”

You pouted on his lap, crossing your arms and looking to the side.

“Ya’ just planned a surprise for me…”

You blushed and pulled his cheeks.

“Hey, this doesn’t count!”

He chuckled and smirked as you climbed off of his lap and onto the ground below.

“Now take off your clothes and get in here!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in bliss under a large warm blanket. The two of you lovingly cuddling together, watching movies and talking about Garou’s new workmates.

“So, this Ibiki kid follows me around everywhere, it’s kinda annoying to be honest.”

You laughed at his statement and pointed a finger at his chest.

“Well, he probably likes you. You are very handsome…”

He smirked and gave you a suggestive look, pulling your body closer to his under the blanket.

“Too bad I’m not available, right?”

You giggled at his response, snuggling into his warmth.

“Yes, too bad indeed…”

Giving you one last loving look, Garou kissed you passionately, his fingers caressing your cheek. Your own hand laid gently on his cheek, lips tightly locked with his.

Separating, the two of you breathed heavily and smiled.

“I love you…”

Garou softly admitted, giving you another one of his glorious genuine grins.

You happily blushed, hugging him close and whispered.

“I love you too. So much…”

And with that Garou kissed you again, feverishly, pulling the blanket above your heads, ready to take you to heaven.

It really couldn’t get better than this…

_________________________________________

#garou #garou x reader #garouonepunchman #opm garou #garou headcanons #gender neutral s/o #gender neutral reader #no specific pronouns #i love yous #fluff #opm fluff #garou fluff #submission

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

I’ve been picking at this particular request since early December as the person who requested it had a lot of details they wanted put in making the writing process a bit more challenging. As a disclaimer, note that the chapter is split between present time and the past; with Logan recalling things in his past in an attempt to make the details requested for the story flow better. I received this request from AO3.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck

Experimental Socialization

Summary: Logan was raised by the government to be nothing more than an experiment and a weapon, utilizing his unique abilities as a mutant. When he finally escapes things are much different than he imagined they’d be but thankfully finds others like him willing to help guide him right where he needs to be.(Happy Ending)

Warnings: allusions to abuse, physical punishment and human experimentation, tw for weapons and fire, panic attack. If there are more please let me know

Prompt; Not Used To Freedom (requested by AngstyEmoGal on AO3)

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3432

“You just gotta breathe, Logan. In four, hold seven, out eight remember? You’re doing great, just keep going.”

Logan felt himself slowly coming back to reality as his breathing evening out, the raw panic that had gripped his chest easing slightly as Virgili continued coaxing him through the exercise. He felt the other slowly rub up and down his arm in a slow, steady beat that helped ground him further in reality and he smiled up at his friend gratefully and nodded to let xem know he was okay. Gripping his knees as Virgil’s voice trailed off he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out one last calming breath.

“Thank you, Virgil. I-” He struggled to find words, gesturing flippantly in the air making Virgil grin.

“It’s okay. Take your time, L.”

Logan puffed his cheeks out in frustration, thoughts swirling too quickly for him to comprehend anything but the apprehensive fear he held for the plans Remus had made for them later that evening. “I am- not used to being outside. Given my history and the threat I pose as a potential compromise to our place of hiding I fail to understand Remus’ reasoning for going out when we could just as easily celebrate our relationship here.”

“Hm.” Virgil leaned back on xyr hands and looked up at the low ceiling of their underground paradise. “Can’t really see the stars from here, no matter how many stickers Princey finds and puts up it can't really be compared to the real thing.”

Logan had made the mistake of going on a tirade of space facts a few months into his stay in the hideout, Remus patiently listening to the extensive infodump of constellation facts and space physics and planetary rotation. Having a limited amount of books to entertain oneself with for extended periods of time meant memorizing entire books on one subject, which Logan had used all too happily as a figurative escape from his situation in the past until he had actually managed to escape when he was 16. Hearing Logan speak so passionately about the subject had apparently made his mind up that he was taking Logan outside for their first “official” date to view the stars, which had then landed Logan in his current state of panic as he realized that date was today and he was decidedly not ready for what might lay in store outside of safety of the hideout.

“I can stay close by if you want. I won’t spy or anything and Remus won’t have to know.” Logan looked over as his thoughts were interrupted by the offer, Virgil turning invisible and reappearing a couple seconds later to emphasize xyr point. Smiling Logan shook his head, knowing the other derived as much joy from going outside as Logan felt about going himself.

“Thank you for the offer though, you’re very kind.” Letting his thoughts drift again he idly wondered when Virgil had discovered xe could disappear and reappear at will and if xyr parents had tried to hide it before the government had found out. His own parents-

-----

“Logan?” A very small Logan turned at his mother’s voice, losing his concentration which made the hidden jar of Crofters fall from its suspended place in the air and smash to the floor. His parents hadn’t known he possessed any sort of powers, and even as small as he was he still understood the position he’d put them in if they ever found out. Fearfully his hands dropped to his sides as his mother covered her mouth in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took a step back.

Men in suits and long coats were there just a few hours later, speaking in hushed voices while both of his parents cried and he was ushered out the door and into an unmarked car, quiet as he understood yelling and crying would do him no good now. What’s done was done, all he could do was be compliant and hope to be treated gently.

-----

The room suddenly brightening with a flickering light brought him back out of his thoughts, Roman entering with his signature bright flame held proudly in his hand. The image of him in his rather scrapped together Princely outfit posing subconsciously in the doorway was almost enough to make Logan roll his eyes but he didn’t want Virgil to think it was because of xem so he managed to restrain himself.

“My dearest brother has been pacing in the same spot for two hours now and I haven't been able to calm him down soooo I thought to check on our resident nerd.” Roman declared with his usual flare. Logan actually did roll his eyes this time but Virgil did as well so he figured it was fine.

“The ‘resident nerd’ is doing fine, Roman. Though it's concerning to hear Remus is nervous as well considering he’s the one who suggested the date.”

Roman waved his hand at Logan dismissively. “He’s just a sap- moreso than me surprisingly. He doesn’t want to do anything to put you in danger but he wants to do something nice, so he’s worried that’s all. Remus is an idiot but I trust him with my life; believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about except his terrible sense of humor.”

Logan merely hummed in response, staring at the way the flame moved around as Roman gestured with his words.

-----

He panted as he rolled out of the way of another flamethrower, singeing the tips of his hair in the process but he couldn’t afford to slow down enough to worry about that. Years of training with different fighting styles had earned him incredibly fast reflexes but a good portion of his accuracy in knowing where to step and when was owed to him working even harder to focus his powers. Thoughts from others constantly surrounded him on a regular basis, getting more and more prevalent the older he grew. Learning to block out the constant string of stimuli was a useful skill to keep him sane but learning to hone in on specific thoughts to predict actions was what had kept him alive.

He ducked below another bullet and brought up his leg in the same motion, kicking a throwing knife to the side and sending it to clatter harmlessly between one of his assailants feet. A twirl to the side and a tilt of the head let another bought of flame boil the air beside him while another knife just barely brushed his ear. The constant bang of bullets and roar of flames and whistling of knives was overwhelming and made the air so thick he could barely draw a breath and it was becoming a struggle to concentrate the way he needed to and-

A high pitched alarm sounded one, twice, three times- a blaring flash accompanying it that left him blinking painfully. His shoulders slumped as the barrage finally ended, another successful training day completed. He watched as everyone began putting their weapons away, laughing and congratulating each other, clapping themselves on the back and discussing whatever they had planned after this. No one even spared the thing they had been firing at seconds before a spare glance, save for the director of the branch, who took long steps forward to stand in front of him only to snap his fingers and motion forward no doubt to see him back to his room until dinner. Absorbing the sounds around him he drank in as much praise as he could that wasn’t his and would never be for him; people rarely congratulated weapons after all.

-----

“Is this where we all decided to hide today?” Logan looked up to see Patton sitting cross legged on one one of the beams in the ceiling, grinning happily down at them even as their fluffy ears twitched nervously and even fluffier tail whipped back and forth in agitation. They must have come back from trying to calm Remus as well, Logan mused; Patton had never done well being in the same room as Remus who tended to voice his thoughts abruptly and without much care to how they might sound to others which always managed to set Patton on edge no matter how hard they tried not to show it.

Patton was a rare mutant in that as opposed to being born with abnormal traits or abilities they had been a science experiment from the start- an effort to create super soldiers rather than stealing them away from families and training them. Even rarer was the fact that the DNA splicing had taken extraordinarily well by pure chance as Patton was born with a mutation that left their DNA incredibly malleable- a mutation that never would have been discovered had cellular manipulation not been the reason for them being in the experimental branch that they were. They had tried cloning Patton at first to see if their power could be duplicated but when that failed to work they began trying to combine them with different animals to see if desirable traits would come forward. By manipulating them on a physical and anatomical level they were able to change some parts of them to be more cat like, intending, Patton had guessed, to turn them into a kind of stealth soldier but they got away before they completed it, leaving them with heightened agility and surgically coaxed cat ears and a tail. They were only a child when the lab had done this but somehow they were never bitter, simply preferring to leave their past alone and embrace whatever future they could make- a trait Logan greatly admired them for even if their unending optimism could be somewhat grating at times.

“Did Janus brush your tail out Pat? It looks fluffier today.” Patton preened at Virgil's compliment, their tail beginning to wave in a more relaxed manner as their mind was distracted from whatever it was Remus had been ranting about.

“He did! He found a cat brush and got it for me so I could finally get the undercoat out!” Jumping down and landing lightly on their feet they posed a little and flashed another wide grin.

“Beautiful as always, Patton.” Roman said genuinely as he lowered his hand into a barrel to light up the paper scraps and wood in it for the night, the dim sunlight that had filtered through the grated having long since died. The home was a modified branch of a sewer system, thankfully the part most removed from the city where it flowed without the stench and was sealed off inconspicuously enough that in the ten years Janus and Remus had been using it no worker had ever found it.

-----

It had been Janus and Remus who had found him, beaten and bloody from an escape attempt he had made just days before his real one. He had made a weak attempt to coax the scientists into a false sense of security, holding back the full scoop of his powers during training for a year in anticipation for his final escape. He had punished severely but had simply thrown him in his regular cell, assuming he wasn’t strong enough to do any more damage than they had seen him do already and trusting that they had beaten him down enough that it would be a while before he tried again- if he ever did. Not six days later the mangled metal of the front of his cell was tossed into a group of guards, walls torn apart in a straight line to the exit and the huge buzzing gates leading to the outside world thrown open wide and stuck there with varying amounts of heavy debris.

The outside world, as it turns out, was a lot bigger and louder and downright terrifying when you weren’t being sent out as a personal assassin or field missions or training sessions- all controlled on some level to keep him from being killed and compromised. Without the begrudged protection from the labs and moreover having to hide from said lab was another story entirely. The times they searched for him and how closely they came to his spots were random and made it incredibly hard for him to pick out their thoughts from anyone else’s in the city and figure out how close they were. On more than one occasion they passed right by him crouched under piles of garbage or laying low under a hedge, his breath held as he tried desperately to keep himself as still and quiet as possible, thoughts of what they would to him once they found him pounding against his head and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep his terrified tears from falling.

That was how Remus had found him. It had been dark and hours had passed since the searchers had left that park he had been hiding in. He had still been hiccuping down his sobs as he rolled out from under the hedge that he hadn’t bothered to scope the area for anyone’s close by thoughts, having shut out as much as he could after they had left to try and block out any other hate fueled thoughts that may send him spiraling again. His heart had leapt in his throat so high his breath caught painfully, immediately shifting to offense as he tensed, ready to fight as long and hard as he could. He couldn’t go back- he wouldn’t. No matter what they did or promised him or punished him with; he’d go down fighting or not at all.

But Remus had only raised his hands in the air in a motion of peace, eyes widening as he locked onto the government issued bracelet that marked him as an experimental mutant. He had grinned impossibly wide then Logan remembered, briefly disappearing from his sight and reappearing a moment later, setting him even more on edge but curious nonetheless.

“I’m like you.” Remus had said quietly. “Basically I run real fast and the government hasn’t figured out how to get me yet.”

Logan had watched as he jiggled his wrists a bit for emphasis, bare save for colored chords that he assumed didn’t associate him with any government branch since they didn’t look official.

“Are you okay?” Remus had asked next and mutely Logan nodded, unsure of how to react to this fellow mutant who had never been caught by any sort of lab, apparently living as free as one could when you were as different as they were. He stepped back as another man appeared behind him, Janus he later learned.

“Liar.” Janus had hissed, making Remus reach around and smack the back of his head.

“It was a polite thing to ask that he tried to dismiss Jan. Let the adults speak for a second.”

Logan had noted the faint pout on Janus’ face though he was still trying very hard to look intimidating. And then all at once his eyes had turned cold as his attention was once again focused on Logan, glaring menacingly from beneath a black bowler hat. “I’m younger than you and yet I’m the one that has to put my foot down. He’s being chased clearly; we are not bringing him back with us.”

Remus has turned, Logan seemingly forgotten for the moment. “That’s not how it works! He needs help and we’re not leaving him to starve or be found in the middle of a park! What would Patton say?”

“Patton is a soft fool who needs to figure out where their morals stand. I myself am choosing not to compromise our place of hiding and three other people that you know those power hungry idiots would love nothing more than to get their hands on!”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard his head had lolled with it, face going pale as he watched something in the sky. It was then that Logan heard the telling sound of a helicopter flying low and getting closer but he had barely tensed before he found himself gripped around the middle and held vertically with the ground flying underneath him. They stopped abruptly and he was set down, blinking in rapid confusion as Remus grinned sheepishly at him.

“Welcome to the hideout?”

Logan’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught yet again, chest tightening as he shook his head vehemently. “You can’t- I need to go back! They’ll do anything to get me back-!”

He was stopped from going forward with a finger to his chest, his blue eyes locking with beautiful brown as Remus held his gaze. “And we will do everything to keep you safe.”

Safe. With that one word Logan was his. He hadn’t known why and he still didn’t quite understand it but he had trusted Remus with everything he had- and he still did. Even as Janus had stalked off grumbling and Virgil and Roman had kept their distance at first Remus had kept him close and showed him how much better his life could be, even if they were living in a modified sewer system.

Back in the present he looked up as a hand was thrust under his chin, smiling softly as he took Remus’ hand and let himself be led away from the others’ idle chatter. He counted himself extremely lucky in the end that Janus had eventually come around to him, seeing how happy he made Remus and how Remus made Logan feel it had been him to finally talk to Logan about it and get the two to officially talk about how they felt, going on about the being “hopeless gay idiots” when they had finally started to date officially. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d do without Remus at this point, just a year later and he was so attached to their small group of hideaways he wouldn’t trade for the world.

They approached the exit to the sewers, Remus swinging their hands between them. Logan held his breath right before they crossed the threshold, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly as his feet met grass and he opened his eyes to the darkened field. There were a few tunnels that lead out to different places depending on where they needed to go and this, Remus had told him, was his favorite because of how empty it was. The city lay far in the distance so there was almost no light pollution to block out the sky. Soft grass and flowers brushed his ankles as he scanned the area carefully, seeing nothing but trees lining the far end of the field with a road so far away he could barely, make it out in the darkness. Remus tugged his hand softly to get his attention, searching his eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Is this okay?’

Logan took another breath and let it out, the last of his nerves fading away as he took in the quiet. “It’s perfect Remus.”

The other grinned and tugged a little harder this time, walking fast to the middle of the field where he stopped suddenly and raised Logan’s arm up to lead him into an impromptu twirl. Logan laughed quietly and then louder as he was dipped, secure in Remus’ strong hold as he reached up to grip the back of his neck. He was safe. He was free and safe and happy finally with someone who truly loved and cared for him. His breath caught in his throat again but this time in awe, Remus chuckling as he was laid down carefully tucked into his side, till with his arms around his neck.

The stars shone bright and winked lazily while swirls of color dusted faintly behind them. The moon was waning, a barely there light that let the beauty behind it show fully as the wind whisked away any clouds that dared to try and cover it. It was everything Logan had ever hoped it would be and more, excitement thrumming through him as he squeezed Remus tightly in an attempt to convey it. He felt Remus grin against his scalp where his face was buried in his hair.

“It’s beautiful isn't it?”

Logan looked back at him, light from the stars reflected in his eyes and wild brown hair framing his face. He leaned up slightly and kissed him, a faint brush of their lips that left them both grinning like the idiots they were. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek Logan smiled at him, thumb brushing over his cheek in adoration.

“Absolutely stunning.”

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versegm · 4 years

Text

It starts, as many things do, with a letter.

White paper, messy handwriting. Folded in half in a small envelope and slipped under her door.

Of course, the letter itself doesn’t matter so much as the words written on it.

“A love note?” Nitocris raises both eyebrows in surprise. “Who is it from?”

“It wasn’t signed.” Ereshkigal answers. “But it was, uh. Quite generous in compliments.”

“As it should be. You’re a queen, after all.” Nitocris nods to herself. Ereskigal wishes she had the same confidence as her-

“Hey, girls!” A preppy voice rises from the door. “How y’all doing?”

“Great! Just great!” Ereshkigal hurriedly answers. She turns around with a wild smile, eager to change the subject. She can’t let them know she can’t let them know “How about you, Astolfo?”

Ereshkigal doesn’t know who the writer of these letters are. She does know, however, who she’d like them to be.

Because the thing about Astolfo, is-

“You’re staring again. Do I have something on my face?”

they’re handsome.

Pretty. Beautiful. Asu-shu-namir shaped Ereskigal’s taste in people for her whole life, sue her. She can’t help feeling weak before this smooth skin, this perfect hair, this high-pitched voice. She can’t help feeling weak before these strong arms, this broad chest, this sharp jaw.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“The Underworld? Yeah, I’ve been there once! Not Kur, obviously. The one I went to was neat, though. It was fun.”

they’re soothing.

There’s something about them, the unmistakable mark of the Underworld, just below their skin. Not like the undead. It’s much closer to her or Nitocris. Someone with ties to down there, even back when they were alive.

Ereshkigal loves the Overworld, and loves living beings. But she can’t deny that they’re a little… overwhelming. A bit of familiarity is, welcome.

(“Aw, thanks! You feel the same, actually! A fellow Moon-dweller.”

“I… never went there, though?”

“It might just be that you don’t remember. The Moon is where everything lost lies. People can end there too, when they’re lost or forgotten. It’s hard work getting them back down.”)

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Oh, do you need help with that? Here, let me!”

they’re kind.

Overwhelmingly so. They get into trouble more often than not, and many think it’s because they love chaos, (which, to be fair, they do,) but Ereshkigal knows better. Astolfo cannot see someone and not help them. They’re very similar to the Master, in that way. A complete disregard for their own safety in the face of a troubled face.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Ah, almost forgot myself here. Sorry!”

they’re so considerate.

Ereshkigal isn’t… good, with touch. She’s working on it! But the sheer warmth- the pressure- the knowledge that someone is touching her, the queen of Kur, mistress of the dead, willingly touching her-

it’s. A Lot.

Astolfo is nothing but touch. Always hugging others, always patting a shoulder, holding a hand, elbowing rips. That’s their default way of showing affection.

And you’d think it’d be a problem, you’d think there’d be friction, but-

Astolfo… doesn’t touch Ereshkigal.

Oh, they want to, that much is obvious. Often, they reach out for her. Often, they raise their hands, to pat or hold or pet.

But they always stop themself, inches away from her skin.

She knows it has to be really counterintuitive to them. And she knows it must be hard for them to remember not to touch her everytime. (It’s hard for Astolfo to remember a lot of things.) Yet they try. Yet they do. For her. For her comfort. And when they forget, they apologize, always, always.

It’s been a couple months, and Ereshkigal has now worked her way to simple touches. Yet Astolfo rarely ever initiates. They wait for her to touch them, and even then, she can see how much they scrutinize her when they reciprocate, ready to back down at the first hint of discomfort.

For her. All of this, they do it for her.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Huh. I don’t really get it, but you’re welcome!”

they’re not scared.

Of anything, in general. But most importantly, of her. Ereshkigal, goddess of death. Ereshkigal, chaotic evil. Ereshkigal, ruler of mesopotamian Hell.

They’ve never even flinched. From the first day they’ve seen her.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“You… remembered what I said? You actually listen when I talk?”

they’re so, so deeply lonely.

Well. No. Lonely isn’t the right word. Astolfo has quite a lot of friends. They’re a social butterfly, always jumping from newcomer to veteran servant, chatting up even the Chaldea staff.

But there’s… something, like a gap, between Astolfo and others. It’s in the way they laugh Astolfo off as a naive idiot. It’s in the way they get frustrated when Astolfo forgets things.

And it makes Ereshkigal angry, so angry, that righteous fury that make gods tremble.

Because they don’t get it. Because they don’t try to get it. Because sometimes Astolfo talks about one thing or another, and pauses, and then apologizes, as if their thoughts were a bother, as if they were a bother. Because whenever she mentions something Astolfo talked about in the past, they get surprised- always, always, without fail.

Because Astolfo is so good, so kind, a ray of sunshine barely dressed in flesh. Because Astolfo deserves so many things, because Astolfo is so important, and they’re convinced that they’re nothing but a side character.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Hey, check out that new card game Nobu gave me! Wanna play?”

(Fingers trembling over the door frame. Stiff shoulders. Forced smile. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It’s subtle, but something’s wrong.)

they trust her.

She hadn’t known what to do, that night. Something had clearly been… off, about Astolfo. But she’s never been the social one; they were. The best she could do- the best she did- was humor them. Play, and talk, and fill in the silences. (Sometimes, she hears people joke about wishing Astolfo would speak a little less. She wonders if they know. How downright disturbing it is to witness Astolfo being quiet.)

Her bed is small, and touch is difficult, but she’d tried really, really hard, and their back had been burning hot and impossibly broad against her own, but for them she’d endured it. She’d wished she could have hugged them, back then.

Astolfo hadn’t complained. As she’d drifted off to sleep, she swears she’s heard the softest “thank you.”

The next day, they’d been back to normal.

(She’d checked the calendar, afterwards. That night had been a new moon.)

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Hey, look! I made you a plushie of Hippo-kun!”

“This nail polish looks SO good on you. Give me your other hand!”

“Hey! I found these flowers earlier, and I thought of you!”

they’re her friend. They’re her dear, important friend.

And Ereshkigal is in love with them.

(In her opinion, they’re an easy person to fall in love with.)

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Oh, hey! Great timing!”

that they’re standing right in front of her door.

“Here, take this!” They hand her something. “And I’m off. Have a nice day!”

A small envelope. It contains, Ereshkigal is sure, a white paper folded in half, filled with messy handwriting.

She can feel her face heating up.

“W-wait! You don’t get to just leave!”

“Huh? Why? Do you need me for something?” They tilt their head. Genuinely confused.

“This is a love letter!”

“Indeed it is!” They nod, pleased with themself. “I worked hard on these, I hope it shows.”

“... But why?”

And now they’re back to confused. “... Because I’m trying to court you? I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“...” Ereshkigal stands here. Dumbstruck. Because they just said it. Because Ereshkigal never, in a million years, thought this’d be a possibility. That anyone- yet alone the person she herself fancies- might actually reciprocate. Because they make it sound so simple. Because they make it sound so obvious.

“I… the letters weren’t signed.” She says stupidly.

“...” Astolfo blinks. “Oh. It genuinely didn’t occur to me to.” They chuckle sheepishly. “My bad.”

My bad.

And it’s such an Astolfo thing to say, Ereshkigal can’t help but laugh, too.

“I should have known it was you.” (Couldn’t believe it could be them)”... Do you mean them? The things you wrote?”

There are a few seconds of silence. Astolfo looks at her, as if wondering how to best answer, and she can feel dread starting to gather in her throat and-

Astolfo suddenly gets on one knee, like a knight.

“Ereshkigal.” They sound solemn all the sudden, with that tone they use when they’re trying really hard to focus. They raise a hand, and, gently, seize just the tip of her fingers, and they’re so warm, warm, warm, “You’re one of the gentlest souls I’ve ever known. You’re pretty, and strong, and kind, and.”

A pause.

Then, really quietly.

“You listen. People don’t usually listen.”

(That loneliness with no name, this gap with no words.)

Slowly, so that she can pull away at any time, Astolfo raises her hand, and softly kisses the back of her fingers. For a few seconds, Ereshkigal forgets to even breathe.

“So, yes. I meant everything I wrote. And if you’ll allow me, I have plenty more praises I’d like to write about you in the future.”

They tilt her hands on the side, and their lips are on her wrist, and their eyes are on her, and there’s a look on their face, something like adoration, something like worship. A knight bowing before their queen.

Love.

“So, will you?”

“What?” Her face feels so hot there must be steam coming out of her ears.

“Allow me to write more to you?” They run a thumb over her knuckles. “I will stop, if you want me to.”

(Always. Always. If you’re comfortable. If you want me to. An inch over her skin, begging to touch her, yet stopping for her sake.)

“You could be writing to me about rocks you found on the side of the road and I’d love it.” She blurts out. And it’s true.

Astolfo laughs, with that beautiful voice of theirs that gets her head spinning everytime. (Happiness is such a good look on them.)

(They still haven’t let go of her hand.)

“See? This, right there. This is why I love you.”

#fate #fate grand order #fgo #astolfo #ereshkigal

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pact-with-faith · 3 years

Text

How Faith Earned Her Pacts: Mammon

When I think about how things might be different if there were more... Faith-like options? How she gets pacts would end up different in some cases! So I've been picking at drabbles to explore this, and here's Mammon's!

Mammon never thought he’d ever even consider making a pact with a human. He’s the Great Mammon! Second eldest of the Avatars of Sin! One of the strongest demons in the entire Devildom! What need would he have for a lowly human?

And yet… he realizes that he does need her. Just not in the way he expected.

Faith was...a strange human. So different from Solomon. She was more like an angel. So focused on taking care of others and helping them, going out of her way to do so. Obedient, and she seems genuinely scared to get in trouble. Not that Mammon can relate! It makes sense for her to not make a fuss though, since she’s surrounded by demons who are just waiting for a chance to eat her and take her soul.

However, there is one way to make her throw her sense of caution to the wind, and raise hell. Not that Mammon knew, at first.

He only realized it when he happened to hear the human talking to Satan, the two in the kitchen, working together on who knows what. Mammon only peeked in long enough to see who was there, and make sure she was safe. He didn’t want Lucifer going for his head if she got hurt, after all. Though he didn’t announce his presence either, because he heard his name, and didn’t want to interrupt the conversation. Surely they were singing his praises!

“...glad to see that Mammon hasn’t been too terrible of an influence.” Satan was saying, chuckling at the end. Asshole.

Mammon heard the human let out a huff, putting down a glass she’d been holding. “You’re all too mean to him.”

Damn straight! But… is she actually defending him? Or just playing into some grander joke?

Satan’s amusement did subside some. “Hardly. He’s a moron, and comes up with the stupidest schemes that hardly ever work out. He makes a fool of himself regularly, and never learns his lesson.” He argued matter of factly, his tone carefully even. No sign of him getting angry yet.

His brother’s words stung, even if he’s heard it a million times. Sure, he tends to act the fool, but… he’s not that stupid. He’d never admit it, (Pride may not be his primary sin, but hell if he doesn’t try to preserve it) but it tears him up that his brothers genuinely think so little of him. And if it’s all some joke, they do a terrible job at showing it.

He honestly expected the human to drop the subject there. She had a habit of avoiding conflict, especially with his brothers. Not that he blames her, they could snap her like a twig if they felt so inclined. And were willing to face Lucifer’s wrath.

“He’s not as stupid as you think,” the human countered, glancing at the blond out of the corner of her eye before fidgeting with her glass, anxiously tapping her nails against it, a habit of hers that Mammon had noticed early on in her stay. She likes the sound. “He may not be the most tactful at times, he may be at the ready with insults, but… he’s not that bad. He’s actually been a huge help, doesn’t seem to really judge me if I get lost at RAD. He actually keeps an eye out for me, and I don’t know if he does it intentionally or not, but his interruptions when I’m doing homework are always perfectly timed, he shows up when I’m getting too frustrated to make any progress, and drags me off to do whatever, and when I get back to work I’ve got fresh eyes.”

There was a heavy silence in the room, and Mammon was so tempted to go in finally, not daring to peek in to see if Satan was getting worked up or not. Knowing that he’d been eavesdropping would make him pissed, whether he was originally or not.

It felt like an eternity before anyone said anything, the silence so thick that Mammon could faintly hear the human’s… Faith’s… heart pounding in her chest.

“I see…” Satan said slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. Why was he being so cautious? It’s not like Faith posed any threat, especially to the Avatar of Wrath. “Even with all of that in mind, it doesn’t change the fact he’s greedy, and stupid to keep stealing from all of us to sell things.” He tried, though Mammon noted a hint of curiosity in his younger brother’s voice. The hell?

There was another pregnant pause, and the shift of fabric as Faith turned to Satan, an eyebrow quirked. “You’re calling him out… for being greedy?” She asked. When Satan gave a nod, curious where this was going, she asked the question again. “You are upset… that Mammon… Avatar of Greed… is greedy?”

The absurdity wasn’t lost on either demon, Satan opting for silence. But by the furrow of his brow, Faith knew she’d have to tread lightly.

She turned back to the counter, picking up her glass and drinking some of the water from it. “I may not know much about how this whole Avatar thing works, or demons, or anything like that…” She started. “But it just… doesn’t make sense to me. Punishing someone for something that they can’t control. Sure, you guys get frustrated with each other when your sins get the better of you. Asmodeus’ constant flirting and innuendo, Beel’s never ending hunger, and so on.” Clearly avoiding any mention of Satan’s Wrath or Lucifer’s Pride. “But you never seem to go at each other half as bad as you do Mammon… and it’s not the fact that his greed is affecting everyone. Beel’s hunger wiping out the kitchen of food affects everyone too.” She added, before Satan could even try to argue that.

With a sigh, she finished off what was in her glass and washed it, her hands shaking lightly. She was too hesitant to face Satan, who clearly hadn’t been expecting such a genuine argument in defense of his older brother. And Mammon hadn’t either. Damn if she wasn’t observant. His first thought was how he could try to take advantage of that for any number of schemes he had cooking, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came… it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of her like that when she’s putting herself at risk to defend him from his own family.

“Why are you defending him so much?” Satan asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms as he watched Faith closely. This was clearly intriguing him, though he almost radiated the aura of a cat playing with it’s prey…

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him refer to you by name. Always ‘human’, typically accompanied by some semblance of an adjective to put you below him. Stupid, puny, et cetera.” Satan tried.

“Well… he isn’t wrong.” Faith shrugged, drying her hands slowly. “I am, in fact, a human,” she started with a small snort as she gestured to herself. “I’m not always the brightest crayon in the box, and typically when he’s calling me out for it I deserve it. And I am shorter than all of you. I’m just a human, one without any magic for that matter. So technically, I am below everyone else in the Devildom, even the Angels and Solomon. So his behavior is technically warranted.”

“The fact that you think it’s right makes it okay?” He questioned, shaking his head.

“It’s more okay than the rest of you insulting him inaccurately.” Faith said, immediately flinching as she realized what she said, even moving a hand towards her mouth as if to cover it.

Oh well, she’s already started digging, why not keep going so she at least gets her point out there before she dies? So with a sigh, she moved her hand to rub at her collar bone anxiously, not daring to look Satan in the eye, focusing instead on the floor.

“Everything you pointed out that he says to me, it’s things you’ve said to him. Stupid, moron, idiotic, useless, pathetic… For all I know, he’s just mimicking what you’ve been saying to him for who knows how long.”

Mammon figured this was as good a time as any to finally make himself known, to keep Faith from actually getting herself killed. Satan doesn’t have the same concern about pissing off Lucifer that the rest of the brothers do. He walked away a few paces, and came back towards the kitchen door with heavy steps to announce himself, knocking on the door frame with his other hand on his hip. “Oi, human!” He called to get her attention. Though… perhaps he really should get better about calling her by name.

Faith looked over quickly when he came in, clearly a bit startled by the sudden noise. But she just let out a sheepish giggle, giving him a grin and a small wave. “Hey Mammon! What’s up?”

“Weren’t ya just whining the whole walk back from RAD that you had a ton of homework to do?”

Faith groaned in complaint, even tilting her head back to emphasize the action, but started over to him to head up to her room. “Shit, yeah… thanks for the reminder.” She pouted, though he was well aware it was a pout at having work to do, not that he reminded her. “Where would I be without you?” She asked him, her tone playful.

“Probably either eaten by a lesser demon within your first few hours down here, or under the watch of one of the others. Probably Asmo.” He mused, ruffling her hair as a makeshift noogie, grinning at the giggles that got.

Faith just snorted and rolled her eyes, but paused in the doorway, turning back to Satan and giving him a sheepish smile. “Just… please, think about what I said.”

Satan gave a small nod, watching the duo head off.

“What was that all about?” Mammon asked, an eyebrow quirked as he stared down at her, his hands in his pockets. He was curious if she’d tell the truth or if she’d try to deflect.

Apparently it was deflect, as Faith reached up and tightened her ponytail some, adjusting the bow. “Just some talking about interacting with demons and stuff like that.”

So she wasn’t going to tell him what she actually did… not trying to get brownie points with him, huh? She sure was a strange one…

Deciding to move on from that whole conversation, he tilted his head a bit. “What’ve you gotta study right now that’s so important anyways?”

“The history and methods of making pacts.” Faith answered after a moment of hard concentration. She’d just been learning about it in class not a few hours ago and she was already struggling to remember what she’d spent over an hour hearing about. He could absolutely relate to that. No wonder she understood him so well.

But pacts, huh…?

Maybe it’s about time he considered one himself. Because people like Faith don’t come around every day… he’s already gotta protect her anyways, and clearly she’s willing to do the same. A pact just seems like the next logical step.

He can trust that she won’t abuse it.

#text post #fic #obey me #obey me!#mammon #faith #mc #my mc #my writing #obey me mc #obey me oc #how faith earned her pacts

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

[tomione thing] Thanks for the recs! I actually was looking forward to the rant, I like how you break things apart so they make sense in a very unique way.( I don't have any strong feelings to the pairing if that was your concern, I just think the stories about them have the potential to be fantastic because I enjoy intelligent characters going through life and solving problems and, usually, in fanfiction there's focus on only one smart character.

So, you people are just poking me with sticks to see what ridiculous opinions spew out then. I’m onto your game.

With that said, let’s get to answering then, and know that you bring this upon yourself.

I loathe Tomione. I put up with it, sometimes, because I will read almost any fic featuring Tom Riddle as a main character. (Want the Carnivorous Muffin to read your fic? Tom Riddle as a main character. Even if I disagree with 110% of your premise I will probably still read your story.)

However, it’s extremely telling that my recs the other day were hilariously small, and one was actually Hermione/Loki. The Tomione exists, I just hate it.

This is for two main reasons. First, I just don’t believe the ship would ever work under any circumstances and the pair are naturally doomed to loathe one another. Second, fanfiction has a collection of tropes associated with Tomione that are in unbearable (likely caused unconsciously by the first, Tomione doesn’t really work, so we do terrible things to make it work).

Tomione Doesn’t Work: Change My Mind

So, remember we’re living in Muffin-land for this. I’ve explained some of my headcanons regarding these characters, and I’ll offer brief explanation for why I think what I do here, but I’m not going to expand on it too much.

Tomione has appeal under the premise that either you or someone else previously mentioned: they’re both so smart, of course they belong together.

The trouble, Hermione’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is. What we see of Hermione’s cleverness boils down to having a very good work ethic and reading a lot of books. She tends to outsmart Ron and Harry because she actually puts in the work to do her homework and, my god, read her text books. Also, as I’ve covered before, Harry’s an idiot, so that’s a low bar.

Because Hogwarts can be passed by the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, and the curriculum seems to boil down to “pronounce this fake Latin correctly, ooh look, a spell”, actually reading her books not only gets Hermione by but skyrockets her ahead of her peers. Who, apparently, have no ear at all and don’t understand the swishy motions are important and probably never bothered to read their books.

This isn’t to say she’s stupid, she’s by far one of the more intelligent characters in the series, but it says a lot of not so good things about Hogwarts that Hermione is the “brightest witch of her generation”. In my mind she has never compared to characters like Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, or Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione never questions how magic exists, why wands work, or why pronunciation is so weirdly important and why we’re using spells that are gibberish Latin instead of English or simply Latin. She never takes that step outside the box I would expect a truly intelligent person to take.

An example, Hermione completely throws out the entire discipline of divination. This is part because she believes it’s stupid, but she also only spends about two seconds thinking about it, and she doesn’t appear to be any good at it. If Hermione’s not good at it then it must be a stupid subject for stupid people.

Now, that alone doesn’t doom her, but it does put a huge chink in the major appeal of Tomione: they’re both just so brilliant that they’d be great together.

What dooms them is that Hermione both a) thinks she is as brilliant as all these other people and b) has this pervasive need to be the smartest person in any room she walks into. Hermione comes across Tom Riddle in the past or just chills with Voldemort in the future, she will inevitably try to show him up. This isn’t just to assure us that good is better than evil, but because she can’t help herself, because being the smartest is how she defines herself.

As a result, especially if we’re in the time travel/school setting, she would inevitably get in competition with him to prove she’s so much better/smarter than he is. It would undoubtedly be on her terms, probably revolving around school work, and she’d throw a fit when Tom wins because he understands the value in being concise where Hermione would quite easily write a hundred page Potions’ essay (that had a five page limit) with the subtext “PRAISE ME” written on every page.

I can’t imagine Tom Riddle would find this anything but completely obnoxious and a waste of his time.

Now, part of this goes into headcanon land, but I have always imagined, 100%, that Tom Riddle in Hogwarts was treated like a muggleborn, that he didn’t find out his ancestry until at least part of the way through, and he never confessed to being the Heir of Slytherin. I can back this up, but that’s another story for another day, I’ll just say that no matter what Dumbledore says any other backdrop makes no damn sense.

So, Tom has clawed the respect of his peers into reality with bleeding hands, he came from nothing in a way that even the ‘good’ purebloods wouldn’t have sympathy for. Even the muggleborns I imagine thought they were better than him. Tom is an impoverished orphan, so poor he has to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, he was not having a fun time at school.

Tom has ambitions, is mired in hatred, and is not really all that wrapped up in Hogwarts except to get him where he wants to go.

Now, imagine Hermione suddenly shows up in front of this Tom. Suddenly he’s being challenged to essay competitions, she probably leaves cryptic remarks all the time about how evil he is and how amazing she is because she’s not evil and smarter than he is, and if he thinks he’s smarter than her then he better find time to prove it.

It’s like talking to a Dumbledore he can never escape from.

Tom doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

Tomione not only insists that he does but that he lives for this bullshit. Forget Voldemort, Hermione making weird comments about how Tom has a mutilated soul, or that Dumbledore is so much cooler than he is, is where it’s at.

As for Hermione, ultimately, I don’t think she’d ever really be attracted to Tom Riddle because he’s too much competition. The guys we’ve seen Hermione with are all safely much dumber than she is, Hermione likes being in relationships with men she feels in some way better than. Tom Riddle is not that guy.

Add on top of this that Hermione’s righteousness would never allow her to even think about dating someone like Tom and we get her, at best, trying for the sake of destroying him (if she seduces Tom then she destroys Voldemort!) but ultimately failing.

Because the thing is, circling back to where we started, there are different kinds of intelligence, different levels of intelligence, and intelligence alone isn’t a reason to get along. Smart people might gravitate towards smart people, but they still have to have compatible personalities. Reading books isn’t magical glue that can bind people together.

No matter what way I look at it, Hermione and Tom would absolutely loathe one another in every capacity.

Hermione ends up back in time accidentally and goes to Tom with Hogwarts: utter loathing.

Hermione ends up back in time on purpose and tries to save Tom’s troubled soul or else murder the shit out of him: utter loathing with an extra dash of “what the fuck?!” on Tom’s end.

Hermione ends up back in time after Hogwarts when Tom’s a store clerk: utter loathing (Hermione walks into Tom’s shop to tell him how cool and interesting she is to enter into the typical Tomione mind games, all Tom wants is commission.)

Hermione enters into deals with devils with the horcruxes: utter loathing complete with Tom’s triumphant/Nelson laugh when he inevitably betrays her to get his own body.

A young Tom Riddle somehow winds up in the future and is forced to attend Hogwarts because Dumbledore does what he wants: utter loathing (Tom has to sit there and enjoy Harry and especially Hermione telling him how evil he is and how Hermione’s so much smarter than him because she’s muggleborn and reads books.)

Lord Voldemort takes Hermione hostage during the horcrux hunt: utter loathing (though this would be sadly less irritating to Tom than the others, I imagine, if only because Hermione would probably be more terrified and less righteous. But she’d hate him with the fire of a thousand suns and inevitably pull a horrific revenge scheme on either him or his Death Eaters. No one crosses Hermione. No one.)

You name it, I think it’s going to end with the pair hurling chairs at each other and just being completely and utterly uninterested in every capacity.

Now, onto how Tomione is typically written, which just makes it so much worse.

Tomione Fics Breed Awful: Change My Mind

Tomione, to me, is born from a few things. It’s born from the author’s desire to have an intelligent, female, borderline SI lead and to shove her together with another edgy smart person with some degree of a bad boy persona.

In this way Tomione fics are very similar to Snape/Hermione fics, are similar to Lokane from Thor/Avengers, are similar to Zutara back in the earlier seasons of Avatar the Last Airbender, etc.

As a result the fics almost invariably spiral into: “Hermione is so smart, she’s so much smarter than everyone else, she impresses Tom because she is so smart. Tom is so smart but so evil, he sexy growls at her, and confesses how much he hates love every other chapter.”

Only, as I noted above, while there are many interpretations of Tom’s character (and mine certainly doesn’t agree with the vast majority) I can’t help but think every single version would hate her.

To make him not hate her the author will often turn him into one of two Tom Riddles: Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom or Growling Sexy Sociopath Tom. Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom will often have paragraph long tangents to remind us he doesn’t compute your human emotions, “Beep boop” but despite this Hermione’s out of control hair makes him feel urges “bloop bloop”. Growling sexy sociopath Tom usually goes on a rant about how love is beneath him, backs Hermione into broom closets, and growls as he sexily makes out with her in a non-romantic manner because “ew love”.

In other words, Tom is made an unbelievably flat character. He becomes a base archetype of sexy villain character. He never really gets redeemed, even if the story insists he does, he usually doesn’t have a reason for the way he is (”um, love potions!” the author often cries), and he and Hermione always think they’re much more important than they are.

The story rarely, if ever, goes anywhere because the entire point of the story is mind games between two sixteen-year-olds who think they’re smarter than everyone else. So we get a lot of chapters of Hermione and Tom running around, being very clever to each other, but doing nothing.

Sometimes authors do deviate from this, we will have an actual plot where we’re not just in Hogwarts again or it’s not just centering on ridiculous mind games. However, even then, Tom is usually is some variant of a very flat cartoon villain while Hermione is... Well, one would think the way she’s described that she’s the smartest, best, most beautiful, most brilliant thing to ever grace this earth.

TL;DR

Tomione is not my jam.

#ask #anon #harry potter #tom riddle #hermione granger

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