#I do miss the older days where I used to interact with followers and mutuals way more though I'm such an insane internet hermit now
Note
I sporadically visit your twitter even though I don't have an account just because I miss your posts on here a bit or I just think something like "I wonder what alex piglii thinks of elden ring, let's take a look"
huu thanks anon. I don't post on here as much anymore just because like. I don't feel like I have that much funny to say so I put most of my boring thoughts on twitter where less people see them. When I look back at a bunch of my old posts on here, especially the popular ones I feel kinda cringy because the vast majority of them kinda just strike me as really not that good.
#ask#anonymous#what being on tumblr for a decade plus does to a mf'er#I do miss the older days where I used to interact with followers and mutuals way more though I'm such an insane internet hermit now#remembers the early days when I used to literally get like 15+ asks a day for a while#but thanks for the notice anon it's cool knowing anyone still like cares about anything I have to say online
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Loss is the tune of our age, hard to miss and hard to bear. Creatures, places and words disappear, day after day, year on year. But there has always been singing in the dark times-- and wonder is needed now more than ever.” — Robert Macfarlane
salome
biography, worldbuilder, soundtrack, character study, aesthetic, headcanon, jewish things, memes
currently
Inbox: 17 / Drafts: 13 / Meta: 1-3
** Rules are under the cut for easy accessibility.
RPC Intricacies —
Please DO NOT follow or interact with me if you engage with any of the following users: celestieu/Bunny, poswiecenia, suffcring/dilffactory, waterdepths, stagsworn/lancepointe, or taleswritten. These folks have either proven themselves to be racists, apologists for racists, predators, or otherwise just a-okay with clowning around with shitty people. The likelihood of me making an exception just for you is very low.
Content Warning: While it's not exclusively so, most of my writing is composed within the vein of some sort of horror. As a result, things are and sometimes do get seriously dark. If that bothers you, I highly encourage you to moderate your content and unfollow. You do not have to engage with me. Your mental health and sanity is more important than reading my content. Okay? Okay.
Follow Policy: I am very slow to write given my illness, so putting me on a strict deadline for establishing plotlines, having replies back to you, etc. is destined for heartache. It is not uncommon for me to follow and interact with blogs ooc for weeks-to-months before we establish a character-based relationship. If you find that doesn't work for you? Unfollow me! If we don't mesh? Unfollow me. Just know that if you softblock me, I may assume it was accidentally done and refollow and/or ask you about it. I am not trying to be confrontational, I promise! I just want to make sure that we are on the same page. If you do not want that, I highly suggest hardblocking me.
Have triggers? Reach out to me if I've posted something that triggers you and you need it tagged. Please do not assume I will be able remember every minutiae from your about page, my memory is absolute garbage due to seizures. Tagging things for you is no problem, I just need to know what it is!
Under 18? No minors. I would actually prefer, given that I am 37 years of age, that you are a minimum of 21+ or older. I do not make exceptions, and if I catch you lying? You will be hardblocked.
I do not participate in "drama," but I will share posts and warn others about predators, bigots, and other clowns in our midst. I refuse to tolerate bigotry, period. I am old, my patience is thin, and if you’re going to be a hateful piece of shit? Get off my account.
Problems? If you have any kind of issue with me, I highly encourage you to approach me privately and talk to me. Actual constructive criticism doesn't bother me.
Regarding Replies —
Threads are for mutuals only, and expect novella-style of varying length. It hasn't deviated from this in 10+ years, so I don't see a reason to start.
I do not reply to items in the order received, but as inspiration hits. Large bursts of effort will likely get queued to cut down on dash spam. If I’m clearly writing and you haven’t received a response after 2-3 weeks? Feel free to ask if I lost it. I don’t mind, I am absentminded and it happens.
Godmodding, forced shipping, racial/ethnic fetishization of my or others characters, or other shenanigans will not be tolerated and will result in a hard block. I write for exposition and story foremost, not for romance.
I very rarely write NSFW content to begin with, and I will not touch anything short of enthusiastic consent when I do. Other than nudes from classical paintings, the NSFW tag does not get used often here.
By taking me on as a writing partner, you acknowledge my disabilities. I have an extremely rare form of an already rare connective tissue disease and it impacts every facet of my life. There are often days where getting out of bed and forcing myself to extract 4-5 full hours out of a day will feel like I have made it through the all too awful lurch of the trenches. Sometimes I don't even get that lucky. If you're willing to wait through those crappy days? I'm willing to write you the best quality replies I am capable of.
The Mun —
My name is Felicia, and as said above, I am 37 years of age. My background is mixed, but I'm basically a Sami/Northwest Asian mix.
My Discord is #evisceri if you want to chat. I'm available there or here via DMs. I am a chatty bitch though, so be prepared for what you're getting yourself into.
I live in Central Standard Time (CST), in Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA. This does not guarentee any set time for me being here, however.
You'll find out a lot about me via my tags, but here's two to start you off: My very fun and definitely not ungodly depressing major in college was Holocast & Genocide Studies. Interests include knitting, historical textiles, and a longing to be consumed wholly and obliterated by deep time.
0 notes
Note
OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)
ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.
Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex
Word Count: 11,800
Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them.
Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE.
Mise en Place
/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/
noun or verb
a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”
This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at.
The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes. Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town.
The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.
No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.
There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed.
“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.”
“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.
“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”
“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”
“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”
The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off.
******
Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar.
Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while.
You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you.
“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.
“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch?
“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”
The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor.
“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth.
You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.
Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction.
“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle.
“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”
“Never seen you before.”
“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands.
“You supposed to drink on the clock?”
You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”
He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor.
You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.
“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”
“He doesn’t need to pay.”
You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind.
“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.
“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”
******
You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves.
Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.
The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.
It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious.
You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his.
“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.
“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer.
“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off.
He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move.
“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly.
“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take.
For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.
Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along.
Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it.
Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness. It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins.
Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.
******
As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar.
There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer.
Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.
Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well.
A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter.
Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers.
Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.
Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law.
You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him.
To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered.
******
A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too.
You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.
You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight.
The white shine of his hair always gives him away.
Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?”
“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against.
“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”
Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke.
“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you.
“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”
You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”
Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.”
You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”
“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”
“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”
“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”
“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger.
It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”
“What toy?”
His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”
Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it.
You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark.
“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze.
“Can I take a hit of that?”
“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”
“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.
“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.
“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”
He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his.
Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now.
“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”
But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness.
******
After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.
The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.
It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?
You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him.
His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension.
Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.
With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions.
Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine.
******
You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened.
No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.
So, you hand in your written resignation.
Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features.
“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness.
“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly.
“This doesn’t feel like you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion.
“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists.
“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”
“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”
“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”
“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”
“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”
“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.
******
Then, Kamino happens.
You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might.
Late one evening, your phone rings.
It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.
You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.
It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.
He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive.
Now, to work.
“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.
“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.
“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.
Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly.
“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”
“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.
“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”
“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor.
“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”
“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so...
You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.
“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.
“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.
“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”
“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.
“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you.
“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”
“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”
He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you.
“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.”
“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…
“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this.
“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.
“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.
“About, well, you.”
“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.
“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.
“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want.
“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting.
“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.
So, you shove him.
You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him.
He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you.
Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.
“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.
“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.
“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.
He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you.
You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips.
“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks.
“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on.
Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult.
“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.
Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth.
“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you.
You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips.
You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh.
His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes.
“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth.
“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front.
“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.
He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good.
Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands.
As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes.
“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking.
You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips.
Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.
He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him.
There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking.
You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.
“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration.
“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”
He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him.
“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”
Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.
“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his.
You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you.
True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him.
“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.
Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.
“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue.
His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply.
“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion.
“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”
“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.
“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you.
“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience.
“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?”
Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection.
“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor.
He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you.
“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head.
Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different.
His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed.
“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher.
“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.”
In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes.
Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished.
“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous.
“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.
“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.
“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.
“Stand up,” he instructs.
You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent.
He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.
Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind.
To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have.
You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality.
So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going.
Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin.
“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.
He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall.
He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub.
Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.
He’s worried he can’t do it.
He’s never been alone, not like this.
Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same.
He needs to see this through.
He wants to, he has to.
Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?
It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away.
Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple.
He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go.
Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin.
After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.
“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.
“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”
He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.
“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.
“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”
“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”
“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.
“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”
“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”
Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme.
Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love
#asks#answered asks#pal muses#on Tomura’s dick#and his trauma#shigaraki tomura#tomura shigaraki#shigaraki x y/n#shigaraki x you#shigaraki x reader#tomura x reader#tomura x y/n#tomura x you#tenko shimura#shimura tenko#reader insert
522 notes
·
View notes
Text
Five Tom Riddle Crossover Fics to Read
Tom Riddle is a difficult character to ship. For those of us who want to see pairings beyond the Big Two (Tomarry and Tomione), canonical options peter out relatively quickly. Sure, we can invent our own pairings by fleshing out side characters, but sometimes, the itch is best scratched by borrowing from another canon.
And it makes sense for Tom more than nearly anyone else in HP. Tom was born into an era that is the subject of so much literature, so it’s easy to find another person kicking around postwar Europe if that’s your goal. He’s an archetypal character, the villain seeking immortality, and can be matched against other villains with the same aims. Hell, even his quest to recover lost artifacts turns into the basis for two of these works—Tom Riddle has the perfect combination of a recognizable context and character model, plus the ambiguity of his canon timeline, to slot him alongside so many other fictional figures.
I want to pause on some of these themes for a second. Immortality or relationship to age, for one, is something that comes up in three of these pairings: the Darkling and Koschei the Deathless are both immortal characters in their own canons, and Edmund Pevensie is not immortal but has aged and de-aged repeatedly in his travels to and from Narnia. The HP series doesn’t give us nearly this wealth of different perspectives on age and immortality, which is fair—HP makes it clear that immortality is unnatural and undesirable, and Flamel is notably a ‘good person’ because of his willingness to accept his own death—but for a character as obsessed with the idea as Tom, some emotions can only be explored when you match him with another character who has a complicated relationship to aging. Even someone like Indiana Jones, not immortal and not trying to be, has an interesting perspective to bring to a story because he has seen so many other quests for power gone terribly awry.
Of course, the other thing we get from crossover pairings is the ability to match Tom with a villainous character. And whether you’re a fan of conflict at the start of a relationship or not, I think there’s something to be found in putting two villains together: moral arguments, when they exist, are rarely about whether death is necessary but about what kinds of death are best used when; the entire concept of either a redemption arc or a breaking bad arc can be thrown out a window. It’s a space wherein our two villains are allowed to be themselves, and the reveal of the extent of each character’s villainy becomes a strange form of celebration. This is challenging to achieve if one sticks to HP canon alone, whereas crossovers are a fruitful space.
My selection methodology was to read every crossover fic with a clear focus on Tom Riddle or Voldemort on AO3. I found crossover pairings by visiting the meta pages for the Tom Riddle, Voldemort, and Tom Riddle | Voldemort tags—I may have missed some pairings for Tom Riddle, as the character has over 300 child relationship tags and AO3 cuts off at 300 displayed. If you know of any ships I missed and should check out, do tell! I’ll also make a note here that one of these fics is my own—if self-recs bother you, skip Bluebird.
The following five fics are ordered by wordcount. Let me know what you think!
Neurotic Virtuosi, by skazka
Crossover: Hannibal Rising (movie version). The wizarding world exists, and Tom and Hannibal encounter each other in non-magical Eastern Europe.
Summary: Tom and Hannibal ride the same train when Tom is hunting down the diadem. Tom shares an apple and thinks about keeping Hannibal.
Mature, <1k, Graphic Torture Fantasies
Why?: This is one of those pairings that I wouldn’t have thought to do when the characters were both young, but it’s so much better for that choice! The length of this fic means we only get a taste of their interactions, but what a taste it is. Tom’s internal fantasies are horrifying and described in a very erotic way, which fits both characters.
This also serves as an interesting vision of what Tom might have experienced during his world tour to find the diadem, a period we rarely get to see. I particularly like that the author chose to write it as frustrating and mostly fruitless; a Tom who is stymied and unsuccessful is a particular weakness of mine.
Two Sides of the Same Coin, by Anonymous
Crossover: Chronicles of Narnia. Both Hogwarts and Narnia are real, and the characters meet in Britain. The magic isn’t the same, but there’s mutual recognition.
Summary: Tom tries to use sex to seduce secrets out of Edmund. Edmund sees something reminiscent of his younger self, the version of him who could join the White Witch, in Tom Riddle.
Explicit, 2k
Why?: Edmund and Tom are a pairing made in crossover heaven, both boys of a similar age born into war in the same country and whose discoveries of magical worlds help them escape it. Both lust for power and make poor choices; Edmund canonically recovers and finds redemption from his actions, and Tom does not.
This fic wears the hat of something pure smut, starting in the middle of a sex scene and tagged with top/bottom roles, etc., and it is that and does that well. But give it a shot for Edmund’s reflection at the end, his hopeful musings that he can apply the lessons learned from Aslan to help Tom before Tom’s utterly lost. It’s a crossover ship with unbelievable potential for both characters, and this fic makes me want so much more.
Shedding Skin, by electric_typewriter
Crossover: Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente. Both the wizarding world and the magic of Deathless exist.
Summary: Tom meets Koschei before splitting his soul. They keep meeting, and Tom keeps attempting to match Koschei’s immortality.
Not Rated, 2k
Why?: Immortality via relocation or storage of souls is an idea that easily predates Harry Potter as a series, and seeing two different versions of the some core idea interacting with one another is precisely what crossovers exist to enable. Koschei as an immortal being that found his immortality in a way he considers superior is a fascinating concept, because it creates a power imbalance between them that leaves Tom always running to catch up. And Tom, poor Tom, feels like a desperate man, finding sensation only when he’s around Koschei and feeling nothing at any other time.
This reads a bit like you’re dissociating. The author uses descriptive language to keep the reader a little distant from the grounded reality of the events happening, which has the effect of keeping you focused on the metaphysical question of what it means to have part of a soul.
Bluebird, by Phantomato
Crossover: Shadow and Bone. S&B summoning powers instead of HP magic, set in the real world, with characters’ histories preserved.
Summary: Tom is the second sun summoner to exist, born long after the first gave up her powers and lived out her natural life. He tracks down the Darkling, the shadow summoner who never really died.
Explicit, 17k
Why?: Tom is an immortal being for at least part of his life, and his character arc is about pursuit of immortality, but he is fundamentally a young immortal, and is killed before he can graduate to old immortality. Aleksander, the Darkling, is canonically an old immortal, and his character arc is about the burden of living with the knowledge that you will likely always be alone. That loneliness sets the scene for the relationship between Tom and Aleksander, driving Aleksander’s behavior—he fundamentally believes he will always be alone, even an immortal like Tom passes through his life.
There is a high proportion of smut in this, serving in place of the emotional honesty that neither character can muster, and I recommend it for that. But the story also relies on investment in quiet everyday moments shared between the characters. It’s a fic told through behavior because both men are so cautious around one another, where they nevertheless manage to find sympathy for the other.
Riddles of the Dead, by Maeglin_Yedi
Crossover: Indiana Jones. Blends together the wizarding world and the mysticism present in Indiana Jones films.
Summary: Tom Riddle hires an expert archaeologist and gentleman adventurer, Dr. Indiana Jones, to help him pursue an artifact that might grant him immortality. There’s fucking, fighting, magic, snakes, and some difficult choices in store for our leading men.
Explicit, 18k, Angst
Why?: Maeglin Yedi has been a mainstay of the Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort ficspace for nearly two decades, but an old crossover like this can unfortunately slip through the cracks. It shouldn’t! With an original publishing date in early 2005, this predates the concept of horcruxes, the knowledge of Tom’s early years at Wool’s orphanage, and, well, so much of what we would eventually learn about Tom Riddle as a person. It’s a testament to the author that the story manages to capture Tom’s character in such a way that he’s still fully recognizable to a current-day reader, despite working with so much less canon.
This fic is fun. It’s an adventure, featuring hazards and traps and assassination attempts that you would expect from an Indiana Jones film, but the magic and mystery never overwhelms the relationship at the core of this story. It’s set up beautifully, with a mirrored structure between the front and back halves of the fic that foreshadows the inevitable end of the story. Watching older, confident Indy seduce young, hungry Tom is a delight. One (possible) mark of a great Tom-centric fic, imo, is to be able to portray Tom enjoying the exchange of power, giving it to someone as well as taking it from them, and this Tom is able to revel in giving up some perceived power as he practices being vulnerable with Indy. The romance is quite sweet, especially considering that ‘angst’ tag at the top of the fic!
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
third time’s a charm | bokuto koutarou
a/n: posting this in advance hehe happy birthday to my golden boy, sunshine baby, and the best ace, bokuto! i am so. in love with him. thank you furudate-sensei for creating him :’)
pairing: bokuto x f!reader
wc: 2.4k words of mutual pining and birthday fluff.
summary: bokuto has been wanting to confess his feelings for you, but you take him by surprise.
--
you met bokuto on your first year in fukurodani. despite being in the same year, you’ve only heard about him through stories told by classmates and friends. he was a powerful spiker, an up-and-coming volleyball ace, and you respected him for that.
it wasn't until that one rainy day that you met him. classes just finished and you were packing your things when the rain came pouring down. and it was only your luck that you forgot to bring an umbrella that day.
you hadn't realized how long you have been standing in the school entrance, near the shoe lockers, until you heard shuffling beside you. there was bokuto, seated on the doorway and tying his shoes. when he looked up at you, he was grinning from ear to ear - you've heard it was his signature smile - and it seemed to brighten up that rainy and gloomy afternoon.
'hey! wanna come home with me?' he said this so casually that you weren't sure if you heard him right. if anybody heard him, they could easily misinterpret him. he must have noticed that you were looking at him incredulously, 'oy! don't get me wrong! i just figured you didn't have an umbrella and we could maybe share! besides, we're going in the same way!'
how he knew where you lived was a mystery to you. of course, bokuto wouldn't admit that he had his eye on you for a while and that he passed by your classroom earlier, seeing you packing your things and noticed you didn't have an umbrella. you didn't want to question him further, because here he was offering you a safe and dry option to go home. so you accepted, 'i'd like that. thank you...'
'bokuto koutarou! but you can call me bokuto or koutarou. whichever you like really!' it was cute how he fumbled over his words, he hoped you didn't notice that he was too excited to be interacting with you. you smiled, 'thank you, bokuto. i'm y/n.'
on the walk home, bokuto proved to be a gentleman. his umbrella was big enough to cover the both of you but you noticed him tilting it to your side to make sure you didn't get wet from the rain. you guys made some small talk, catching up on your subjects, how the classes were treating you. you even asked him how volleyball was going for him.
when you finally arrived at your home, you thanked him and even offered to let him inside so he could dry himself. but he was shy and insisted that you can just pay him back at school then he went on his way. you were left standing at your door, wondering what he meant. but you couldn't deny that you were looking forward to getting to know him more.
the following morning, bokuto made his way to your class during lunch. he sat down at your desk, and it was as if you two were best buddies as he chatted with you and told you stories about his morning training. as much as you were surprised, you didn't mind it and indulged him. your classmates were a witness to the blossoming friendship between the two of you.
since that day, you and bokuto were inseparable. from helping him study, accompanying him in his extra trainings, and even going out of your way to make him cute little bentos, you showed him support in the ways you knew possible as his best friend. everyone thought you guys were dating. towards the end of the year, rumors were circulating that you and bokuto are together. you chose to ignore it, not wanting to ruin the wonderful friendship that you two shared.
however, unknown to you, those gossips were sparking something in bokuto. he always thought you were a great person - smart, attractive, kind. the recent talk in school made him realize that he saw you as a woman and he was yearning for something more with you.
so one day, bokuto decided that he was going to confess to you after school. when he dropped you off at your house, he stayed for a few minutes. he stood there in front of you, fidgeting and you thought it was cute. you figured he wanted to say something so you waited. but just as he finally mustered up the courage to say he likes you, the front door opened, revealing your dad. bokuto panicked and looked between you and your dad. 'hello sir! i was just taking her home.' he bowed and his gaze flitted over to you, 'i'll see you tomorrow at school!' and the boy ran away fast, leaving you and your father with confused looks on your faces.
second year arrived and you guys were closer than ever. however, you were both busy with club activities - you with student council responsibilities and bokuto with trainings and practice matches for the volleyball club.
the two of you saw each other in the hallways, stopping by to hug each other and have conversation before class started. sometimes, you would see each other in the cafeteria where he was often sitting with his team and you with your own group of friends. you would exchange knowing looks across the hall and both your friends would tease you. bokuto was already used to it, but you were always a blushing mess.
one morning, bokuto came to your the student council room before the classes started. you wondered what he was doing here, 'aren't you supposed to be in morning practice right now?' he smiles, 'yeah! but i wanted to introduce someone to you first!' he moves to the side and reveals a boy. it turns out the boy is named akaashi, a first year member of the volleyball club. he was a setter and bokuto was overly excited, complimenting him nonstop about his skills and how he makes a great addition to the team. akaashi was flattered, almost bashful, and you were amused seeing bokuto so fond of the younger boy.
easy to say, the introduction of akaashi also meant that your duo became a trio. much to bokuto's delight, you and akaashi got along so well. despite him being a year lower than you, you interacted with him comfortably. often, you would wait for the two boys to finish practice so the three of you can go home together. in between walks home, you would stop by cafes to try new food and drinks.
and being the observant person that he is, akaashi saw through the feelings that you and bokuto shared and he was puzzled as to why the both of you weren't still a couple. there were boys in his class who were asking him about you, if he can introduce them to you. but he would always politely turn them down, respecting the closeness of your relationship with bokuto.
there was a day when you had to skip on going home with them. you messaged them saying you had to stay back for student council duties. and as much bokuto and akaashi would have liked to wait for you, they had game tomorrow and had to rest to be in good condition so they went head. the walk was silent and akaashi was wondering if bokuto was on one of his moods. however, his worries were quickly dispelled when the older boy turned to him and asked, 'do you like y/n?' it surprised him but at the same time, akaashi found it amusing.
'no, bokuto-san. i believe y/n already has her eye on someone else.' he gave bokuto a knowing and encouraging look. 'you should try confessing to her. it wouldn't hurt letting her know about your feelings,' akaashi advised.
when bokuto settled in his home, he mulled over what akaashi told him. he wasn't that oblivious to recognize the many boys who were looking at you and wanting to make a move. it always crushed his heart whenever he thought he could lose you and your friendship once you entered a relationship. he knew he had to make his move, but he also knew how you were getting busy lately with student council. he didn't want to add to your stress, and to be honest, he was at the point of his volleyball career where he had to focus all his time on the sport. entering a relationship now when you were both busy would be futile. so in the meantime, he thought he'd wait for the right time and pushed back any plans to confess.
finally, you and bokuto were on your last year in high school. he made a promise to himself that he would properly ask you out before graduation. and it was like the gods of matchmaking and love were on his side as the two of you were finally on the same class!
he was thrilled, running up to you to hug you on the first day of school. he thought about the many opportunities he had to finally ask you the question. however, as seniors, there was the looming responsibilities of college entrance exams and last volleyball matches that kept you two busy.
often bokuto would whine to you in class, 'y/n!!!!!!!! why do i not see you anymore? this is torture.' you would always laugh at his dramatic ass, and to your classmates it was a sight to see the ace looking for your attention. yet much as you wanted to spend time with him, you had papers to help file for the council and exams to prepare for. but as his best friend, you would often make it up to him, going to his games to support him and giving him notes that he needed for the classes he missed. you were even helping him study for his own college exams on weekends.
your parents were getting concerned, worried that you were spending too much time outside on weekends instead of resting home. one time, before you left, your mom stopped you, 'why are you doing all this for bokuto? he's perfectly capable on his own, you know.' you stopped, remembering all the times bokuto would run to you for help on a subject, the times when he would call you to ask about a question. you liked how he depended on you, and deep inside you knew that a part of you depended on him too. you knew that if he decided to stop talking to you, he would be taking a piece of you with him.
you didn't get to answer your mother, only smiled at her as you left home for bokuto. but ideas were already swimming in your mind. you wanted to be with him for as long as god would allow you. if bokuto hadn't realized your feelings for him yet, you were going to take matters into your own hands.
which was how you found yourself on the school rooftop on the day of his birthday. today, you were going to confess. you spent weeks planning the event, even asking akaashi for help. you needed the younger boy to ask the coach to excuse bokuto in training and luckily, the coach agreed.
bokuto was confused as to why he was being excused, but only got an instruction from akaashi to go to the rooftop. so with hesitant steps, he went upstairs. when he got to the top floor, bokuto knocked on the door before opening it, revealing a surprised you as laid out the drinks and homemade food on the picnic blanket.
'what is going on here?' he arrived too soon for your liking and you were flustered. you hadn't finished setting up the plates yet, haven't even set up the music on your phone. but bokuto stepped forward, 'is this...'
you jumped up, extending your arms around your head and shouted, 'happy birthday, bokuto!' he stood still for a minute, digesting what was happening then he was walking towards you and scooping you up on your feet in an embrace.
the two of you laughed as he twirled you around, 'bokuto! stop, i'm gonna get dizzy!' when he put you down, he looked at you affectionately, 'thank you so much for this! you are the best!' and without missing a beat, you said, 'i love you, bokuto.'
you saw as his eyes grew wide, stepping a few feet away from you and you dreaded that he was going to reject you. he was walking in circles now and you were getting anxious for the lack of reply. so you went to him, grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him in tracks. 'did you hear what i said?'
he nodded, but still kept silent. you continued, 'well, are you just going to ignore that?' you were unfair, bokuto thought. he pouted and looked down to avoid your gaze, 'but i wanted to be the one to say it first.' now it was your turn to be shocked, and before you knew it you were moving closer to give him his gift.
your hands on his cheeks and the touch of your lips on his caught bokuto by surprise. it took him a while to register it but here you were, the love of his life, kissing him. seconds passed and he was kissing you back, he put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. he moved one hand to caress your cheek lovingly.
when he pulled away, he gave you a peck on the forehead. smirking, he declared, 'be my girlfriend?'
you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his nose, 'i have been waiting for you to say that.' this time he blushed, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and he thought about what did he do to deserve you.
'this is the best birthday ever.'
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu one shot#haikyuucreations#bokuto x reader#haikyuu bokuto#haikyuu x you#hq x reader#bokuto koutarou x reader#haikyuu fics#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu fluff#bokuto fluff#bokuto scenarios#for birthday boy bokuto!
321 notes
·
View notes
Text
hello! i started a new thread because the other one (+ this one) got really long, so sorry! but i guess this is my love letters to you guys because you’ve made my tumblr experience so, so much better && i’m grateful for all of you guys + all of my mutuals and followers!!
first of all, @himawari-senpaii thank you so so much for your kind words! meggi, i love your sunflower motif because it suits you so well! sunflowers make me smile whenever i see them, and it really brings me so much joy to see you on my dash/notifs. your tags are always so fun and sweet. thank you for tagging me in this 🥺
@animoozies connie, where do i even start? you were my very, very first tumblr mutual on this account! i’m so thankful you reached out to me before, and you’re still checking up on me even now. words can’t describe how much i adore you + how appreciative of you! when i see you on my dash with your stories, i always end up cackling because you’re so fun. idk how you do it working all those hours + going to nursing school, but you is a mf boss ass queen!!
@hoekaashi ash, my queen!! my tag for you is my day is blessed because ash ✨exists✨ because that’s honestly how i feel about you. i am truly blessed with your kindness, your humor, your friendship, you. thank you for always keeping me company through our struggles in pharmacy school! you are one of the realest people i know, and i feel so honored that you always send me random kenma pics & fics you think i’d like 🥺
@kanao annette, the other half of my soul, my whole heart, my literal soul sister. you are one of the biggest blessings i’ve received this year, and i honestly don’t know where i would be without you listening to my dumb shit and supporting me through all my mess LOL. thank you for validating me all the time, even if it’s just stupid stuff like enabling me to buy all the random stuff that i’ve been thinking about LMAO. i love how we are always ✨speaking✨ and ✨manifesting✨ good things in our futures together. i literally feel like i can talk about any and everything with you, and i love that about us 🥺 i am manifesting that beach vacation 2021 for us, okay!!! 💖
@sapphitedreams leo, my cutest menace in the kitchen 💖 thank you for reaching out to me when i was too shy to reach out to you uuuu. you’re such a chaotic calm in my life, and i love your energy. i am constantly in awe with how adorable, supportive, and creative you are! even though you bully me sometimes and only make things for characters’ birthdays, you are so so talented and it floors me every time i see your creations because they are so amazing idk how they’re real. i hope you are able to get some rest even if you have to work during your break (& i hope you don’t accidentally fall during work anymore smh HAHAH)!
@onefortyninecm danielle!! my love!! i know i mention this before, but i am always so so inspired by you. you’re so tiny, but you have such a big heart and soul. you’re so beautiful inside and out + your humor is god tier. i’m so glad you were the very first person i’ve ever commissioned from (& spiraled me into comissioning indulgent kenma art HAHAHA), and i’m still amazed by your talent and kindness every time you post something new omg. i still can’t believe you DREW ON YOUR PHONE what the heck!! you’re so talented it’s crazy HAHA. i’m always thinking fondly of you + dandy wedding in a pumpkin patch 2021, okay thanks.
@p-irozhki rissa!! i am so blessed with all the gifs you create and all your content on my dash! whenever i think of you, i think about all the smol icons you use because to me, you = cuteness = i wanna hug you so much!!! i think i already said it, but i’m always so thankful when you read all my self-indulgent fanfics and leave kind comments on them 😭 thank you for culturing me about mangoes HAHAHA. there’s never a bad time with you, and i’m thankful we got to meet this year!
@hoshino-a lena lena! you actually have so much bde that i am in constant awe by you. you are such a baddie & i have this like clear imagine in my head of you with crisp and clean vibes + the skies from your pfp on discord, hehe. i love you and all your brain rots about your exes. at this point, every time i see semi, my first thought is “ah it’s lena’s ex” and whenever i hear some sad song, i would be like “omg it’s lena ab her ex semi eita” LMFAOIOAGJDLA. i love talking to you because your energy is just immaculate + i just love your presence 💖 also please get some sleep because do you even sleep 😭
@myelocin nic!! you’ve painted my world in so many iridescent shade so life, i can’t even begin to describe how much you mean to me. you works are just so beautiful so imagine how much i shrieked when i saw you followed me LMFAOOADIGDALJ i love that your blog is your safe space because it has become a place of comfort for me as well (and i’m going to miss you so much when you leave 😭😭). your makki brain rot is so strong, and sometimes i think about makki and you making dinner and teasing each other and throwing flour at each other or something idk. this is nic’s world now and we are all living in it tbh.
@tsu-kiss nina!! you are someone i find such comfort in. i’m not really sure if that even makes sense LOL. but your blog and you are a source of comfort for me. in my head, you have such an older sister vibe even though i’m older than you LMAOOADGHDAKJ. i hope life is treating you well because you deserve all the best!! seeing you thrive makes my heart so full 🥺 i love you so much!!
@souheii lisa!! i kid you not, the first time you dropped an ask in my ask box, my heart skipped a beat because you told me you love me and i love you and you are so cute and i cri!!!! i know we don’t talk often, but every time i see you on my dash or in my notifs or when we do talk, it’s like a little shot of serotonin every time :”) thank you for being such a lovely human being mrs. iwaizumi hajime, 27, althetic trainer😭
@ultkags cas!! my first child 💖 i know you’re on a hiatus right now because school really, really sucks BUT you are seriously one of my biggest blessings. you are literally my ray of sunshine because every time i talk to you, i gain so much warmth and energy from you. every time i see your edits, it absolutely AMAZES me because i literally don’t know how i am able to see all your edits FOR FREE?? all your thoughts behind the composition and symbolism for each piece is CRAZY. please remember that i’m always your biggest fan + i love you so so much. please take care and remember to drink water and get some rest!! your grandma is always here to send you love + forehead kisses because this grandma can’t bake :(
@u-make-my-heart-tsumtsum ree!! hi, i know we’ve only started talking recently but i love how open and warm you are. our love was so strong that even tumblr tried to stop us 😭 conversations with you are always so easy and lovely, and you are just such a cool person!? i love reading all your thoughts (& i can’t wait to dive into your masterlist after school ends because we live for fluffy tsumu content 😭). i’m not sure why you even follow me, but i adore you so much!!
@neonghxst el, where do i even begin!! you are such a lovely person, and i literally have no other words to say because you always leave me speechless. your writing is so so gorgeous, and you are so so beautiful. i love reading all your stories because they truly leave an everlasting impact on me, and i love reading your interactions + just seeing you on my dash. you are so thoughtful, and you take care of everyone around you so well. i hope that you are also giving yourself the same treatment because you deserve all the best as well! remember to drink water in between your coffees and get some rest as you go into your final 2 weeks of the semester!!
@und3lla maliha! hi love! i know we haven’t spoken much or in a while, but i really do always think of you randomly. you were one of the first mutuals i made && you are such a sweet soul. i love how every time we talk, it really fills me up with happiness. thank you for just being such a lovely person && you truly are one of the softest people i’ve met. thank you <3
@deadontheinsidebut angel, my dumb ham, my queen, my hoe (heaven on earth), my everything. i know you are also on a semi-hiatus right now because everything that’s going on, but i hope you are properly taking care of yourself >:( i’m always here to remind you to drink some water in between your coffees and teas and to GET SOME REST. you are so so driven, and i really admire how open and friendly you are. you truly are your namesake because you are literally an angel, and i always feel so blessed to be in your presence (even if you bully me sometimes for being a boomer 😔). words can’t describe how much i love you and care about you && i hope that you are able to find what you’re looking for during your break! 💖
@rumprich ananya! hello! i am so thankful to see you and all your content on my dash. you have so much creativity, and all your edits are so aesthetically pleasing to look at? like it’s so light + pretty!! i’m so so grateful that we are mutuals somehow because ahhh i really don’t deserve you. you are so adorable, and i truly am blessed to see your presence!
@yuki-souma vee! i know we only started talking very very recently, but you are so much fun to talk to! i love how diverse our conversations are, and i love that we have similar favorites, and even when we don’t, it’s always a fun conversation that i look forward to! i love how open and inviting you are, and i’m really grateful that we are mutuals + i love and appreciate you so so much!
@owlywrites owly! hello! you are seriously one of the most supportive souls i’ve met on this website. your kindness and drive to learn always leaves me speechless because you’re so amazing. thank you for being so kind to me, and i hope you extend that same kindness to yourself! don’t be so hard on yourself and remember to take breaks and take care too. you are such a beautiful soul, and i hope you’ll remember that i’m always here to support you!!
@graphicstills-in-motion hi arianne! thank you so so much for always being so kind to me. i don’t know what i did in life to deserve you, but i must have done something right to have someone so kind like you in my life! thank you for being such a sweet soul + always boosting everyone around you up. your kindness is definitely contagious! i love seeing your edits and reading our conversations because there are always so many thoughts put in. thank you <3
@applepienation justine! thank you so much for always checking in on me whenever i post random shit on my dash. i really do appreciate you and all that you do for not just me, but also for everyone around you. you are such a ray of sunshine, and i’m so thankful that you’re in my life! i know uni is crazy for you right now, but i hope you’re still taking time to take care of yourself! sending you lots of love and positive energy!!
@touyax drake! hi love. i absolutely LIVE for your tags LMAOOADJGALD. they are literally my thoughts but you just typed them out HAHAH. i’m so thankful that i get to see your beautiful content on my dash, and i’m always in awe by all your edits! thank you for always being such a fun person + never leaving me feeling like a fool whenever i post ask games LOL. i love and appreciate you so much! 💖
@kagehjna ilayda! my kagehina supplier 🥺🥺 i love seeing your presence on my dash because you truly post all the best things! you are such a lovely person + i love reading your tags HAHA. you are truly a joy and we will definitely have matching kagehina icons one day okay 😭😭 12/7 is finally here/coming SO I AM SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!! thank you for always blessing me <3
@sadaharus hi mei! you are literally the definition of softness to me. all your content and edits are just so soft and beautiful, and i love seeing everything you post. you are my main gintama supplier HAHA. i really appreciate how kind you are + how you’re always so sweet to me. 🥺 i know it’s kinda funny how i started following you because of a random ask game, but i’m so so glad i did because i always feel so thankful you’re here!
@fake-charliebrown charlie! my little sprout babie!! i have so much admiration for you because you have so so much talent! your style is so distinctive, and i love that!! it’s so soft + vibey, and i’m honestly so so amazed by it all. not to mention, you have the best haikyuu thoughts! thank you for sharing all of that with me! i’m thankful for you, thank you <3
@itachihaa ay! my froggy princess 🥺 thank you for always being so kind to me + having the patience to deal with how slow i am to responding!! i’m really appreciative of you always because you make/have so much beautiful content and you are so so sweet as well!? and the way you call me miss starlight 🥺 that makes me so soft like!! uuu i love you.
@stardust-make-a-wish star! you are so so adorable!! i LOVE reading your tags because they make me feel so fuzzy and soft but also relatable HAHA. your presence is such a joy + thank you for always interacting with me even though i just spam random stuff LMAO. i love how thoughtful your answers are + how much you love cake/sweets (very suiting because you are so sweet 🥺). thank you for being interested in me even though i am the one asking you questions!
@karasu-hoes daisy! hello! i have so much admiration for you because you have so much creativity and kindness! like your events are so cool and unique + your writing is so beautiful! i love reading your feral thoughts + all your work. i also really love reading your witching hours!!! thank you for blessing me with you 🥺 you are always so kind + i love how much you care about your friends and the people around you. i hope you’re taking care while renewing your teaching certifications! 💖
@frailuta nico! hello love! i know we haven’t really spoken before, but i just want to know i love you so much. you make the most beautiful gifs + i truly am in awe every time you post something. life is tough sometimes, but you are tougher! sending so so much love and positive energy to you + please remember to take care! <3
to all my mutuals and followers: thank you so so much for sticking with me and my mess of a blog. i honestly don’t really contribute much to anything, but i’m so thankful you guys are still here! thank you, thank you, thank you! i love and appreciate all of you guys + my ask box/messages are always open if you want/need someone to talk to 💖 thinking fondly of everyone today + so much love to you guys mwah mwah!
#text#this got really long but#i am really truly thankful for everyone of you#i have so so much love for you guys#sending all my love and positive energy to you guys#i'm so sorry sometimes i'm really slow at responding but#i really do think of you guys!!#love you all mwah mwah
93 notes
·
View notes
Note
Yeah I'm honestly a bit surprised by how passionate and vocal people are about hating twenty one pilots? It's kinda upsetting that when I try to interact with content about them I'm always a bit worried in the back of my mind because I'm a pretty sensitive person and it's hard not to let stuff get to me.
I don’t know why it’s always felt like twenty one pilots has gotten a ton of hate for no reason? I’ve been into them since 2013-2014 so pure unadulterated vessel era, I’m a very old fan of them and their music, like one of the oldest picture in my phone is this
(This picture isn’t important I just love it, plus something fun to look at with a not so fun subject material)
(Long history as a fan rant incoming lol)
I’ve been an emo kid for a really long time, back when all of the emo bands were big, when seeing another kid wearing a panic! shirt always meant you talked to them in the mall, I still remember when I would wear the one twenty one pilots shirt I could afford outside, that anyone who knew who they were would come up and start a conversation with me
And it’s like through the years the hate has changed to be... somehow worse
Back in the early days tøp used to get called not a true emo band because they didn’t have anyone playing the guitar so everyone hated them because they weren’t emo Enough
Plus there was the whole ‘emo trinity’ ‘emo quartet’ infighting nonsense but that’s so long past idk if anyone even remembers it lol
Then blurryface rolls around and fans are being made fun of for dressing funky and going through that one fandom phase where everyone was calling the boys smol beans it was great and cute, we were all really close, we called each other frens, told each other to stay street it was great! So what people made fun of us or whatever we were absolutely vibing
Twenty one pilots felt like the coolest secret gang of fans, we were absolutely huge, more so than most people would think, and man it was awesome!! If you saw a tøp fan you knew that you were cool with that person and that person would be cool with you!! It was amazing!! Sometimes I do miss this vibe!!
But then Stressed Out ended up on the radio...
I feel like it really all changed here, all of the sudden the old fandom things were cringy, the boys were sell outs, and every family member you knew was suddenly the biggest fan despite only knowing stressed out
I remember being upset around this time because of strangers invading my space, this was my group, filled with people who understood what the lyrics meant and knew and understood how much they meant to all of us, and suddenly it was filled with people who didn’t belong
I didn’t blame the pilot boys, obviously they can’t control what’s on the radio, I’m fact, there’s plenty of pilot songs that mention never being played on the radio because of one reason or another, so my problem was never with the boys, it was with the influx of new people, and by new people I don’t mean new fans, I mean news outlets and tv show host, and with that influx came the people who didn’t get it, you know? That were rude and outright nasty and refused to understand anything about the genre and effort put into the story and why it mattered to us
(Tw for suicide mention, and uncomfortable themes involving people making fun of themes involving it, tw for mentions of school shootings)
All of the sudden we were the fans of Tyler Joseph the man who ‘Glorifies Suicide’ and actively is supposedly encouraging that behavior
We were the cringy fans everyone knew in high school and hated who were described as being ‘JuSt So QuIrkY 🤪’, instead of the mentally ill kids we all were, by people who hated us
We were the fans of those ‘white boys who look like school shooters’ (this one honestly rocked me to my core, it still hurts to even see??? Like idk why but it almost makes me want to cry)
At the same time a lot of the old fans were turning their back on the pilots, they didn’t want to be involved anymore, they hated ALL of the new fans whether they were respectful or not
It was a REALLY hard time to be a new fan, very few people were open to having them involved in anything, I think this is when a lot of hatred happened in the fandom not only fan-fan fighting/hatred but also fan-band sentiments weren’t great either
The more songs that ended up on the radio the more the hatred grew, in fact this got so bad Tyler did this
youtube
Here’s a transcript in case it’s hard to hear
Like... this was the state of our fan group.... it was suddenly cool to hate all the songs that ended up on the radio so much it affected every part of our music journey
There was a lot of infighting, it was an awful time to be a fan, new or old
Then came silence era, in which every tøp blog I followed except like 2, became kpop blogs and I’m not sure any of them ever came back lol, I actually really disliked kpop because of this for a bit in like a jokey kind of way in my own head lol (ahh how the turn tables have turned... kpop and tøp are the only things I listen to now haha, actually because of all my tøp mutuals becoming kpop blogs I vowed to myself to not change this blog to another group so I have two music blogs now, which makes me laugh but also shows how important music is to me so it makes me happy anyways you know?)
It was kind of a sad way to have the fandom disappear, everything was strangled, the boys were gone, and no one kept up with the fandom, it felt really lonely
When Trench era clues started back people started coming back, the mood was different, we had something to do and it was fun to work on something with others, we had the Clancy letters, and all the clues, and the tower of silence and the vultures!! It was great! It started to feel like we had rebuilt something from the rubble of what we had been
The fandom started calling Tyler stinky and he called us b*stards it was great, sometimes people were a bit meaner than I think they thought they were being, but it worked you know?
When the album released we had more people come back and things slowly started fitting back ok again, more songs ended up on the radio and a lot of older fans said the same things they’re saying now, but it wasn’t that bad, it was mostly very positive
And then we got to the over the summer drama, which........... is a sensitive subject, but I legitimately do not understand how it was Tyler’s fault that people assumed he was talking about something when he wasn’t talking about it at all... especially when people have been begging him for years to talk more about mental health, he wanted to introduce whatever he was going to do with a joke, I personally never though he was talking about the big issue at the time of the incident, but it blew up like wildfire and the next thing you know he’s canceled because Other People Assumed Something
So now it’s ‘Morally Justifiable’ to hate Tyler because he’s r*cist or something, despite it never being his intention and because people assumed something
It’s literally not even with good reason that people are doing this, but because it blew up when it did and about what it did, no one knows what really happened and people just wanted a morally justified reason to hate them because you can’t just dislike something anymore without it being justifiable I guess? I feel like with all of the years I’ve spent on the internet everything has only become more hateful...
All this to say.... yes, it hurts when people hate the things that you do, I get really sensitive about it as well, especially with how long and how many arguments I’ve seen, and I am extremely sensitive to discourse and hatred, it’s why I don’t engage with much of it online, in fact I was about to delete the post complaining about everyone hating on them before I saw it was really resonating with you guys
I guess my best advice to you anon, would to try to understand where it’s coming from, that’s what’s helped me, I know a lot of people dislike the pilots because of the fact that they became ‘mainstream’ during blurryface era, and people are really upset by that, so understanding that, even when it hurts, I can acknowledge that they feel that way and that it’s ok that I feel differently
It’s easy to take that point and test it against your own morals, ‘do I think twenty one pilots became mainstream, or only makes songs to get on the radio?’ If your answer is no, then you can both say ‘I don’t agree with them but they’re allowed to have their own opinion’ and kind of give yourself a wall and barrier against what they say
I know this isn’t perfect advice, but it’s helped me a lot
I know there are two big arguments against this album, that it’s mainstream and made to have radio singles (the underlying argument here I guess being Tyler and Josh are money hungry and no longer care about the music)
And that it’s no longer lyrically meaningful, but I think this has to do a lot with how involved people are in the Dema lore, if you’re not a fan of lore I would imagine this album being propaganda and supposed to be fake and bright to prove a point would really bug you if you didn’t really get it
To best thing to do is digest an argument (only if you can handle it emotionally of course 🖤) and know it’s ok that think differently than other people, and that the chances of someone being mad at you are very slim
A lot of things I’ve enjoyed have been stolen by the fear of getting hated on for something - while in actuality, the very few times I’ve gotten real hate over something barely affected me
I admit the fear of getting hate bothers me a lot more than actually getting it, but I just want to encourage you to stay strong in the face of it, it will pass, as it all does, but if nothing else in this post resonates with you, PLEASE HOLD ONTO YOUR JOY FOR AS LONG AS YOU CAN! And don’t let ANYONE take it from YOU!!
If twenty one pilots makes you happy, just remember that the only person who can take that true joy away from you is yourself, remove the people who make you feel sad out of your life, I apologize if this is a physical person in your life as this makes it a lot harder, and sometimes impossible depending on the situation, but on the internet unfollow anyone, block anyone, don’t engage and leave them alone, it’s not with your energy or effort, and they’ll never change their minds but they can change yours you know?
Being sensitive in a time when everything is hateful is hard, especially when everyone tells you you’re a bad person if you aren’t engaged, but you really don’t have to be, you get to choose your own destiny you know? Don’t let other people choose it for you
#I’m am so sorry this post is so long and I still don’t know how to put readmores on mobile anymore#ajsjjams#I get told I ramble on about to much and that my stories are never concise and take forever to get to the point which might be true.........#I’m sorry#I kinda just rambled on forever but I feel like I finally aired out all my laundry I’ve kept to myself forever haha#it did have a point though! just trying to say like it’s always been a bit difficult but for the things that we love it can be#I’ve had a much better experience this era with the people I follow which has helped a lot#but to get to new content I’m digging in the tags which is where I’m#seeing all the hate so there’s kind of no avoiding it but I understood that going in you know?#anyways I think I’ve rambled on long enough! I hope this helped you out in same way?!?!#I’m not sure any of this is really helpful lol wjsks but one can hope haha#nic writes#tw suicide#tw suicide mention#tw school shooting#tw school shooting mention#tw racism mention
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jealous
* this is not my gif; all credit goes to the owner.
Paring: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
Warnings: swearing
Word count: 2667
Summary: JJ likes you but hasn’t asked you out yet because of the rule, but he sees someone flirting with you and gets Jealous.
Requested: yes! - Can you do a jealous jj maybank imagine??
A/N: this is by far the most i've ever written but it was a fun request to write. Hope this was what you were looking for!! <3 also im very, very sorry it's taken so long pls forgive me
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
You had joined the infamous Pogues after moving to the Outer Banks when you were 9 and lived in the neighbouring house of JJ. He first spoke to you when he and John B were climbing trees in his back garden. Curious as to what the two boys were playing, you joined in. Back then it was just you, John B and JJ against the world, and you would make in known.
Pope later joined the three of you after being in some of the same classes with you and the boys, and were instantly drawn to his honesty, charm and it also didn't hurt that he was so smart, you could get him to help you all out with your homework.
Then came Kie and as much as you loved the boys, you were so glad there was finally a girl around. You and her became best friends almost immediately when you saw her surfing one day alone, and later invited her to join you with the others. You then learned that she was technically a kook, but was surprised when she was completely different from the stuck up rich that occupied Figure 8, and was actually bearable to be around.
And from then on, you had always been the voice of reason within the Pogues.
However, anyone could see there was clearly something special between you and JJ. Everyone in the town believed you two already were together or would end up together eventually. You had been one of JJ's closest friends his entire life, behind John B that is, whenever you two were together, the space would just be filled with laughter, constant bickering and just enjoying each other’s company.
You couldn’t see him that way, or so you told yourself. You were both completely different, and would never work as a couple. And besides, even if you did like him, he would never want to date you anyway. And due to the ‘no Pogue on Pogue macking’ you never thought of him or any of the other Pogues in that way and tried to avoid having a romantic relationship for obvious reasons.
It was a typical summer evening for the Pogues. After spending a day on the water, swimming, listening to music and being around each other's company, Kie suggested getting food at her parent’s restaurant. And the thought of free food made you and the other Pogues agree instantly.
Once Kie persuaded her dad in letting you all eat the leftovers, Mr, Carrera banished you all to a secluded table at the back of his restaurant, away from any of the actual paying customers.
Sitting down with JJ to your left, you conversed with the other Pogues before you saw Kie return with a tray of food and jug of water for you all to enjoy.
You shrieked in shock as you felt something cold being smeared across your cheek, turning around you saw JJ sat beside you, owning a smug look on his face and ketchup covering his fingers.
Grabbing a spare fry that was lying on the table, you threw it in his direction. Hitting him directly in the chest, he faked being hurt, holding his chest.
He then retaliated by throwing another fry at you. Soon it became a full on food fight between you two, while you giggled until you were out of breath.
“Can we not be kicked out by my dad please,” Kie spoke, trying to stop the chaos that you and JJ created.
He chuckled, stopping his movements before sipping his drink and digging back into his food that sat in front of him. You followed suit, still giggling.
“Shit!” John B squealed, quickly picking up a cup he knocked over in the chaos of yours and JJ’s spontaneous fight, and moving a few things out of the way from the spilled water to not get wet.
“Really John B, right in front of my salad,” Kie said, staring at the brunette boy trying to clean up the mess he made.
“Don’t worry I get some napkins” you sighed, John B gave you a nod in thanks and you found yourself walking up towards the countertop to grab the napkins.
As you grabbed a pile of napkins from the bartop, you felt a hand on your waist and a head lean against your shoulder while feeling someone breathing against your ear.
You were surprised when you turned around to be greeted by a very familiar face.
“Hi.” Harry, a colleague from your work greeted you as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I wasn’t expecting to run into you in this fine establishment.”
The flirty banter between the two of you is not new. You had met Harry when he started working during your second month of being at the Figure 8 Country Club. He was a natural flirt, some people would call it cocky, but everyone knew he was harmless.
You haven't seen him in about a month due to the hurricane that swept through the island a few weeks back, and then scheduling issues kept you apart from most of your work friends.
“I could say the same to you.” you reply, still a little surprised to see him here.
“It’s my parents anniversary.” He said simply, looking over his shoulder to a group of people all sat at a table on the opposite end of the building, chatting amongst themselves.
You nodded, coming to terms that it wasn’t just you and your friends at the Wreck, like it usually felt like when you were all together, stealing the scraps from Mr. Carrera.
He chuckled, leaning his elbow on the countertop to get a little closer to you, focusing all of his attention on you, “So, how have you been since the hurricane and all?”
“I’ve been alright. Helping out folks where I can,” you chuckled, before pointing behind him to the table where you all sat “and hanging out with my friends how about you?”
“Been good, time away was fun, missed your beautiful face though” he said through a smirk
“Easy, ” You warn, rolling your eyes and smacking his arm playfully before shaking your head and walking back to where your friends were, but you noticed Harry following after you.
As you approach the table, you noticed how JJ’s knuckles were gripped into a fist. His eyes were following behind you to where Harry was, which caused you to raise your eyebrow slightly at him. He saw your wandering eye and just scoffed, ignoring the look you were giving him as he took a sip of his water and sighed, watching as you proceed to introduce the Pogues to Harry.
“Guys this is Harry who I work with. Harry this is John B, Kiara, Pope and JJ.” you introduced pointing to each appropriate Pogue.
You had spoken fondly about Harry to your best friends. He was a great stress relief at work and it was nice to interact with someone different from who you usually hung out with. He was a few years older then you so you didn't share any mutual friends and never saw him around at parties.
“Hi. It’s so good to meet you all.” Harry grinned, extending his hand out to Pope and John B, who both returned his polite greeting, Kie gave him a small wave from across the table, while JJ let out another loud sigh obviously meant to be heard.
“You too.” JJ replied, voice full of sarcasm, as he waved his right hand while taking a sip of his water with his left.
Sitting yourself back down in your seat beside JJ, you gave him a slight nudge with your shoulder to ask him what was the matter as you knew he was a lot more polite when he met people so it certainly surprised you when his expression towards Harry seemed a little dry. You assumed that he was just tired, as his dad had been giving him a hard time recently and he had been living at John B’s for a few days now. But unbeknownst to you, JJ’s blood had been boiling the moment he had witnessed Harry approach you at the counter top.
Harry made friendly conversation with John B and Pope, while you focused all of your attention on the way JJ had been when you were talking with Harry. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Harry walk around the table and stand behind you, feeling him lean his body weight against the back of your chair that you were sitting in, causing you to focus back in on the conversation happening around you.
“Well I just can't wait to have Y/N all to myself again!” Harry placed his hands atop of your shoulders massaging them gently as all of the Pogues around you chuckled, including you to try and make it seem like you have been listening all this time and not thinking about the blonde boy next to you .
Watching Harry's hands remain on your shoulders, he was not happy about the way Harry had been acting around you. It was a strange feeling being jealous, he definitely wasn’t used to it. Deep down he knew he had no reason to feel this way because you weren’t his.
That was it. He had had enough. He slammed his fist against the table, gaining the attention of the other Pogues and marched in the direction of the exit, leaving you just as confused as the others who all sat with confused faces, they watched as JJ stormed out of the building, baffled as to what had caused his sudden tantrum.
You quickly turned over to Kie with a confused look on your face, mouthing a 'what the fuck’ to see if she had picked up on something you didnt, before getting up from your seat to quick to follow after your best friend. Curious about what caused his sudden outburst.
You found him standing outside by the deck, his back to you. His knuckles were still white as they gripped the wooden railing in front of him as he huffed, raking his fingers through his own hair.
“What the fuck was that?” You called out to him as you walked up to him. You stopped a few meters behind him waiting for him to answer, “What the hell has gotten into your head?”
He wasn’t his usual carefree self right now, that was obvious. You crossed your arms across your chest, a stubborn stance that couldn’t even come close to the outrage that sparked in your eyes.
He quickly turned back to look at you and you noticed that his jaw was tightly clamped shut, his fists would stay firmly by his sides and was trying to regain his composure by controlling his heavy breathing, but failing miserably.
“I don't like him,” he said firmly, shaking his head lightly. The tension in his body made him stand rigid as he continued to stare at you with steam coming out of his ears.
“What are you talking about?” you asked him confused.
"The way he put his arm around you. The way he talks to you. The way he acts around you, Y/N, okay i don't like it! He was flirting with you!" he practically yells at you as he begins to pace back and forth on his feet, his body still completely rigid as he moves back and forth not even bothering to look at you.
“Is that what all of this is about?” You shook your head, raising your eyebrows to try and challenge him as you crossed your arms against your chest. “You’re jealous of Harry?”
“Y/N, I’m serious,” He paused his movements, looking at you dead in the eyes to hint what he was really trying to say to you when not knowing exactly how to express what he had been feeling for years now. To be honest with you and not wanting to ruin the beautiful friendship that you've had over the years.
“No, tell me why it bothered you so much.” you ran your hand through your hair, and rolled your eyes, Unable to believe how childish he was being,
"He was flirting with you!”
“That’s just him JJ. He’ll flirt with a rock if he could!” You shook your head and took a deep breath. From an outsider's position, it may look like Harry was trying to come on to you, but anyone who really knows Harry, knows that it's completely harmless, and anyone who watched you knows your heart truly belongs to the boy stood in front of you now, “Are you telling me that you’re mad because someone was flirting with me in your presence?”
“Yeah i'm mad, i'm mad that they are gunna get your attention and you'll go off with them!” he said hanging his head low, finally letting some of the tension leave his body from partially admitting his feelings for you.
You remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate on what he meant. A part of you knew what he was about to say and you were hoping he would say it. You had been dreaming about it for years. But another part of you refused to believe that it was even possible that he had reciprocated feelings for you.
He sighed as he lifted his head to watch your reaction to what he was about to say, “I’ve liked you. For a long, long time now. And I know the rule, no Pogue on Pogue, so I never said anything about it. But this summer has made me realize how much I liked you more than just as a friend. And I know I probably fucked up our friendship for good now but… I don’t think I can keep it to myself for any longer.”
JJ liked you. Hearing him say this made you feel a huge weight lift from your chest, as you no longer needed to keep it to yourself either.
“JJ,” You bit down on your lip as you moved closer to him so you were now standing a foot away from him. “I like you too.”
With a huge grin plastered across your face, you let out a slight giggle, watching the smile on JJ’s face was the most amazing sight you had ever seen.
He put a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you to him, his lips against yours with his other hand at your waist. You were hit with the reminder of how it felt to have his soft lips on yours.
You had only kissed him once before. A Touron at a boneyard party was being super clingy to JJ and he just wanted to shake her, so he claimed that you were his girlfriends and weren’t interested in her. She, of course, didn’t believe him so he kissed you to make it more believable. You had been comfortable with doing so as you had been wanting to get rid of her all night. This was a real kiss, filled with love and passion. You melted into the kiss, holding JJ closer. Wanting to pinch yourself to make sure this wasn’t a dream.
After a few moments, you both pull away, pressing your foreheads together, out of breath.
“Oh my god.”
You quickly pulled away from JJ and turned to see John B stood with his eyes wide, staring at the two of you still wrapped up in each other’s arms, shocked at what he had just walked in on.
“Dude, it's not what it looks like,” JJ tried to explain.
“Pope!, you owe me $20!” He exclaimed as he ran back the way he came
You giggled. “I think we have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Sounds like they already know,” JJ smiled and kissed Y/N’s forehead before wrapping an arm around her and leading her back to the rest of the Pogues.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, please give it a reblog and leave some love <3
#obx#Outer Banks#obx imagine#outer banks imagine#obx x reader#outer banks x reader#obx x you#outer banks x you#obx oneshot#outer banks oneshot#jj maybank#john b routledge#pope heyward#kiara carrera#sarah cameron#rafe cameron#jj#jj obx#john b#john b obx#kie#kie obx#pope#pope obx#netflix#rudy pankow#chase stokes#madison bailey#jonathan davies#jj maybank x reader
178 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU
So because there seemed to be interest in the idea, I decided to expand on the second prompt on this list of AUs I made for Bethany and my Niamh Cousland.
Since Bethany is a Circle Mage in Niamh’s canon verse, I really wanted to experiment with Bethany in one of her other potential routes We don’t talk about the ones where she died not long after escaping Lothering or down in the Deep Roads. Like, what are you talking about? Lalala~ and see if I could work together a happier ending than what the games canonically gave her.
Like most of the AUs I’ve already written about though, this is just a snippet into the verse, so it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, and the pacing isn’t on par with my main fic. However, there are still 50+ pages for your reading pleasure! Depending on reader interest, I’ll be more than happy to write more about this or other AUs once OtSttCA is completed.
Disclaimer: Any section written in present tense beneath the Read More contains notes or scenes that I’ve yet to expand upon properly.
CliffNotes version of what goes on:
This whole thing takes place sometime after Bethany becomes a Grey Warden and continues on through the years-long breaks between the Acts of DA2. The epilogue will be set sometime after the Trespasser DLC is completed.
Niamh is the Grey Warden who Morrigan chooses to do the Dark Ritual with, and through the obvious use of magic, Kieran is conceived. Because of this, Niamh’s sister Saoirse escapes her otherwise canonical death and gets to be happily married to Leliana.
Because of their mutual respect for one another, and the fact that Niamh went through the trouble of finding Morrigan through the events of the Witch Hunt DLC (she was worried about her friend and their son), she and Morrigan remain in close contact and co-parent Kieran together. Their relationship is often mistaken as a romantic one though.
Bethany eventually falls in love with Niamh over the years, but because she believes the other woman is in a relationship with Morrigan, she keeps her feelings to herself. As such, this is obviously going to be a slow burn romance much like OtSttCA.
Bethany only confesses (albeit by accident) when Niamh nearly dies during a darkspawn ambush when the two woman accidentally find themselves trapped down in the Deep Roads.
There’s a romantic kiss out in the rain along with a semi-NSFW scene later on, which explains why the Read More is in place beyond the fact that this is already super long despite the fact that it’s unfinished...
They both go off in search of the cure to The Calling not long after the Kirkwall Rebellion, and they both eventually get married sometime after the Trespasser DLC with Divine Victoria (spoilers: it’s Leliana) officiating their wedding.
Interested so far? Click below to read more!
“You’re originally from Ferelden, no?” Stroud asked, drawing Bethany’s attention from where she’d been listlessly staring at the cobblestones as they walked away from Amaranthine’s sea port.
The city itself seemed to be thriving with fishmongers and traders of all kinds rattling off their wares to passersby. Save for the workers carrying about lumber and other building materials, one might not have even believed that Amaranthine had suffered its fair share of woes during the onset of the Fifth Blight or the consequent, mysterious darkspawn attack upon its walls nearly a year later. Still, the denizens of the arling were ever a hearty people. For whatever hardship befell them, they continued to persevere.
She supposed she couldn’t bring herself to be too surprised by that.
The Storm Coast had spawned some of Thedas’ most fearsome raiders once upon a time, and they had proven the bane of Orlais in the rebellion that had spanned over half an Age. For the empire’s trespass upon their freedom, they had fought back with a ruthlessness that matched the raging waves of the sea that was as much a home to them as the land. In the face of such an unsympathetic enemy, they depended on one another to see themselves and each other through to another day. Such faith eventually earned them the liberation they had long sought against Orlais.
Bethany could still see evidence of such camaraderie in the way the people greeted one another so whole-heartedly, stopping to make conversation or help with the transportation of wares. It was such interaction that she’d miss in all the time she’d been away.
Kirkwall had lacked such sincere enthusiasm.
Still, in the two years since she’d left it, she was finally back home, but Bethany knew it was yet another decision she hadn’t had a say in. She hadn’t agreed to returning to Ferelden any more than she had agreed to becoming a Grey Warden. Her jaw clenched, remembering how her sister had simply handed her over to them even when faced with the proposition that they’d likely never see one another again.
Was it really so easy for you to leave me behind, Sister? she thought bitterly, and perhaps upon sensing her melancholy, Stroud changed the subject.
“I realize it seems a rather abrupt choice in returning you here, but what I seek is far too dangerous for someone so new to our way of life to accompany me with,” he explained. “I’m meeting with the Warden-Commander of the Fereldan branch so that I might share some information in the event that things go awry. Their group is smaller than the ones seen across Thedas, but no one can deny their efficiency.” Stroud spared a small chuckle at that. “A bit like your sister and her crew, I suppose; I thought perhaps you would be more comfortable in such a setting.”
It had been a thoughtful suggestion; Bethany knew that. Still, she couldn’t help but sigh. She had always felt that the individuals whom had made up her little social circle were more Emrys’ friends than they had ever been hers. Her older sister had the type of presence to draw anyone to her with her rakish charm and absolute battle prowess.
…which was the exact opposite of her.
As an apostate, it was far easier to stay out of trouble by being unobtrusive. If she gave the Templars no reason to suspect her, she wouldn’t be taken away from her family and the quiet life she had always known. Yet, for all her trouble—and for all her desperation to abide by the rules of a society that had long hated mages like her—she had found herself alone anyway.
Bethany sighed as she looked down at the blues and silvers of the brigandine and tabard of her outfit that signified her status as a Grey Warden. Even with her staff openly displayed across her back, she supposed she no longer had to fear being turned into the authorities. Save for a few curious glances, no one so much as batted an eye at them.
She wasn’t entirely convinced this new life was better than the one she’d left. She could have dealt with the ever-present uncertainty in Kirkwall and the endless, interpersonal squabbles of their ragtag group than spending the remainder of her years surrounded by strangers and fighting darkspawn.
But the choice wasn’t hers to make.
Very little ever was.
---
“So that’s Velanna. She took over as Archivist for our branch when the Warden-Constable was promoted to her current position by our Commander,” Nathaniel said as he took Bethany and Stroud through a tour of Vigil’s Keep since the fortress’ respective Warden-Commander and Warden-Constable were currently out on business.
Their latest stop was a library filled with seemingly endless rows of bookshelves and even more that lined the walls of the chamber that consisted of three separate levels. It was impressive, and Bethany was half-convinced she could have spent an Age in this room alone and never be able to read the entirety of its collection.
At Nathaniel’s commentary, she spared a cursory glance at the woman writing intently at one of the tables furthest away from them, paying little mind to her audience. As was typical of most elves, Velanna was a slight woman. Her hair was a shade of blonde so pale that it was nearly white, but there was a surliness in her pensive expression that gave Bethany pause. It was something that suggested the other woman didn’t welcome the company of others easily, and she seemed to have been proven right by Nathaniel’s words.
“Don’t mind her if she’s a bit standoffish at first. Velanna’s usually that way with everyone until she starts warming up to them,” he assured.
“Oh?”
“Yes. She didn’t really like humans all that much to begin with—hardly a surprise considering how terrible some of them were toward her former clan. Truthfully, I think the only people she really respects are our commanding officers—the Constable mostly though.” He spared a soft chuckle at that. “Granted, the Warden-Commander could lead a damn army from one side of Thedas to the other, but only her sister has the type of negotiation skills that could somehow end up with a High Dragon allied with a sheep of all things.”
“Probably a good thing,” said Varel—the Keep’s seneschal. There was amusement in his dark eyes as he stroked his beard, which had long grown grey with age. “Actually succeeding in getting the Warden-Constable angry is a terrifying sight to behold.”
“Please don’t remind me; I still have nightmares from our first meeting…” Nathaniel muttered with a shudder.
Bethany found that curious, but before she could begin to question him, she saw how he blinked at further movement inside the library. She followed his gaze to see that a dark-haired, dwarven woman had entered through one of the side entrances, carrying two, steaming mugs. One had been set before Velanna, who whispered something quietly, but both of Bethany’s brows rose when she saw how the elf’s cheeks quickly reddened by the kiss that had been pressed to them by her latest visitor.
“Ah. And that’s Sigrun there—another one of those few, honored individuals who Velanna won’t immediately snap at,” Nathaniel remarked humorously.
The tour then continued elsewhere with the party entering the Mess Hall. While neat and tidy, it would have otherwise been unremarkable were it not for the lone dwarf snoring loudly atop one of the tables—an empty cask by his side. Bethany and Stroud shared bemused glances while Varel only cursed next to them, running a weary hand down his face.
“I told you we needed better locks for the cellar if we’re to keep Oghren away from the wine stores,” Nathaniel deadpanned.
Oghren grumbled nonsensically in his sleep before promptly rolling off the table and right onto the floor, loudly overturning more than a few chairs in the process. Despite the fall, he continued to doze away, and his snoring only seemed to grow in volume. They then watched as the poor seneschal wearily hauled the dwarf back to his quarters before he could cause another incident in front of their guests.
“…well, that was Oghren,” Nathaniel muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a weary sigh. “Quite the interesting fellow, that one. With him, you’ve pretty much met every Warden in the Keep save for—”
He was interrupted by the sound of voices coming down the hallway.
“I told you that I’m more than capable of walking on my own!” protested a feminine voice, irritation evident within it.
“Says the woman who was nearly side-swiped off a cliff by an ogre,” came the deeper timbre of another woman’s amused reply.
Unlike Nathaniel or herself, the latest arrivals didn’t seem to bear the typical, Fereldan accent or even Stroud’s Orlesian one from what she could tell. Bethany could hear how some of the vowels lilted somewhat as they spoke.
“It didn’t really give me any choice in the matter,” was the dry response. “It was either stand before its charge or risk the family in the wagon being swept over the edge instead.”
“I was hardly questioning your bravery, Sister. The people in that caravan certainly wouldn’t, but perhaps leave the more death-defying stunts to those of us with the armor to handle it, hm? I shudder to think what our brother or Aunt Eithne (writer’s note: pronounced Eth-Nah) would say once they find out about this...”
“Perhaps that you were lazing about while I was doing all the work as per usual.”
“Hey!”
Two women appeared in the doorway of the Mess Hall then, and Bethany was startled to find that one of them rivaled her older sister in both height and size. She was a warrior through and through if the impressive greatsword over her shoulder and her overall physique was any indication. Her mane of hair was the color of pale wheat, the length of which was held in a braid that trailed down half her back, and her eyes were a deep, stormy grey. The woman she was carrying—her sister, according to their conversation—was much slighter in comparison.
Rather than sharing in the warrior’s blonde-haired looks, hers was a stark, raven-black. The loose curls trailed to roughly chin-length with a longer fringe that covered one of her eyes—the color a whisper of smoke than the darker grey her sister had. The woman’s arms were also crossed over her chest as she regarded her sister—deeply-unimpressed—before her features cleared at the sight of their visitors.
“Ah. Stroud. Glad to see you and your companion made it across the Waking Sea safely. We weren’t expecting you both for at least another day, or we’d have sent an escort to meet you at the port.”
“No need for the trouble. The winds were kind during our voyage, Warden-Constable,” he said before tilting his head in concern. “Although it appears we’ve arrived too late to help you both. Has the darkspawn presence been more troubling as of late?”
The warrior whom Bethany deduced to be the Warden-Commander merely snorted. “They’re not as plentiful as they were a year ago thankfully. With Niamh’s and Velanna’s respective magic, our branch here has slowly been sealing any access tunnels we’ve come across, but our enemy may just be as awful as vermin with how they manage to reappear in other areas.”
“The incidents have been isolated so far as we can tell, but they’re capable of disrupting travel all the same. On that note…” The Constable trailed off as she turned her gaze toward the Warden who had been showing them about the Keep. “Nathaniel, we have guests from the caravan mentioned earlier. As it’s getting rather late, Saoirse and I decided it was best not to press our luck by letting them travel so soon after the darkspawn attack. Could you and Varel direct them to the guest quarters? We’ll arrange an escort for them to Amaranthine first thing in the morning.”
He pressed a fist over his heart respectfully as he bowed his head. “Of course.”
“Wonderful. Now—”
“Now we get you back to your quarters so that we can tend to your injuries,” her sister interrupted, cheerily grinning when it led to the other woman scowling outright, as if she had been reminded of her current position.
“And I’m more than capable of walking there on my own. Put me down!”
“And risk you further injuring yourself? What type of sister would I be if I were to allow that to happen? Now then!” The Commander directed a smile Bethany’s way, and she jerked in place at the sudden attention. “You’re the latest to join our Order, aren’t you? Stroud mentioned you were a mage. I don’t suppose you know any healing magic, do you?”
“Oh.” Bethany blinked. “Um, well, yes. I have some experience with it.” She had tended to her sister’s and their friends’ injuries often enough back in Kirkwall.
“Excellent. Would you mind tending to Niamh here as best as you can while I go find Velanna? I’m pretty sure my sister fractured a few ribs in that fight earlier.” She chuckled. “And don’t worry if she gives you any trouble; she has a history of being a terrible patient,” she added, earning a pained grunt for her troubles when the woman in question elbowed her sharply in the chest.
---
And before Bethany knew it, she found herself alone with the Warden-Constable in her quarters.
She was trying not to blush at the sight of the woman reclined against the propped pillows at the headboard of the bed. Modesty didn’t seem to be an issue for the other mage. Without another word, she had undressed—with a few occasional winces here and there as the movement pulled at her injuries—and was now bare from the waist up, save for the bindings around her breasts.
Bethany couldn’t help her own wince when she saw the livid bruising that covered the right side of the woman’s torso. It almost looked like the trunk of a tree had been slammed against it if the abrasions and bits of bark embedded into the cuts were any indication.
And she kept insisting to try and walk on her own with an injury like this? she thought in absolute disbelief before delicately pressing the tips of her fingers against the bruise. Despite being as gentle as possible, it still drew a sharp hiss from the Warden-Constable, and Bethany jerked her head up to see the other woman’s clearly pained visage.
“Sorry!”
“No, it needs to be done. Keep going,” she insisted even as pale eyes closed themselves to focus on breathing in and out evenly—albeit with some difficulty.
With permission given, Bethany laid her hand out over the woman’s side, drawing her magic out with a silvery-blue light. From there, she began sounding out the extent of the Warden-Constable’s injuries by feeling where it burned hottest beneath her palm—an indication of how bad the damage was. There was always a tickling sensation that spread out to her fingertips whenever she gently coaxed broken bones back into place. It was akin to puzzle pieces slowly sliding back together before she could encourage them to heal, and she waited for the pulsing waves around them to fade into a dull echo before focusing on the next fractured bone.
As for the bruised muscles surrounding them, they were far easier to deal with. Bethany poured magic beneath the skin in gradual increments—droplets of rain spilling into a cup one by one—until she felt the burning heat simmer down to a more bearable ache. She continued the process, slowly sliding her hand along the woman’s side until the patchwork of blues and blacks which had covered its expanse faded into a yellowish tinge and the superficial cuts had closed themselves. Bethany pulled away then with a satisfied smile.
“What song was that?”
Bethany blinked, turning her gaze up to see silvery eyes staring at her curiously. “Hm?”
“You were humming something while you were healing me.”
“Oh.” She felt heat gathering along her cheeks at the revelation. “It’s an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me. When my father first taught me healing magic, I used to hold my breath while I was performing the spell, but as you can imagine, it’s not a very sound idea unless you want both an unconscious healer and patient.” Embarrassed laughter spilled out of her then as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “After a time, I learned that humming a few songs was useful in reminding me to breathe.”
“I see.” The Warden-Constable smiled, looking a great deal more relaxed as she reclined further against the headboard. “Well, thank you.”
“Of course.”
The Warden-Commander walked in then with Velanna in tow, and the warrior seemed surprised to see her sister still in bed. “Did you actually manage to get her to stay there the entire time?” she asked incredulously.
Bethany blinked in confusion at that since her patient had otherwise been well-behaved. As it was, she could only nod tentatively, causing the other woman to grin openly.
“Hah! Well done! I didn’t expect Stroud to send me someone who could cow her into submission.”
The Warden-Constable’s eyes narrowed then. “It was not my hearing that was damaged in that fight, Saoirse. You would do well to not make such comments before me,” she deadpanned, and despite the threat, it only drew hearty laughter from her sister, who soon drew her attention back to Bethany.
“Stroud said your name was Hawke, right?”
She shifted uncomfortably, having grown too used to her surname being used to refer to Emrys, but she nodded all the same. “I’d prefer just to be called Bethany if that’s alright.”
“Ah. Understandable. Can’t tell you how many times my sister and I both answered ‘yes’ in the same room whenever someone called out for a Warden Cousland.” She smiled. “In any case, welcome to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens, Bethany. We’re glad to have you with us.”
---
After that, Bethany settles into Vigil’s Keep.
She sends letters home every now and then, but they’re usually only addressed to her mother. They’re never really long—just enough to let her know that she’s alive and well. Although Bethany realizes it’s a petty thing, she doesn’t ask about Emrys or send her anything for that matter. She’s still angry and resentful that her older sister managed to escape their adventure down into the Deep Roads unscathed while she got cheated out a future, leaving her to a life of killing darkspawn until the Calling finally takes her into the abyss of death.
Melancholy is ever her constant companion, but eventually, she gets paired with Niamh for missions, who teaches her much about their duties as Wardens over the months, which takes them all around Ferelden. They deal with darkspawn sightings and document areas where they’ve sealed off underground routes into the Deep Roads with earth-based magic, hopefully preventing them from returning so regularly to bother nearby provinces.
As partners, they slowly become closer.
---
"Do you regret it?" Bethany asked one night as they sat by the campfire, watching as Niamh effortlessly flicked a hand to control the size of it just as a strong wind passed beneath the rocky overhang they'd taken shelter under. "Being a Grey Warden, I mean?"
Niamh paused, giving the matter some thought. "There are worse things to be, I suppose." She shrugged. "For a time, I hated the idea of being a mage because it took me away from my family. However, my being a Grey Warden was likely the only thing that saved me from being slaughtered with the rest of them when Howe plotted his coup. It likely also saved me from dying at the hands of my colleagues in Kinloch Hold when one of the Senior Enchanters overthrew it with blood magic and his followers.” She looked over at Bethany then. "Truthfully, I enjoy being able to see more of the world than through the cage the Chantry kept me in. I like the experience of being a part of it even in the moments that people dislike most."
Niamh held a hand out past the edge of the overhang, casually catching droplets of rain in her palm. Bethany watched as a slow smile spread across her features at the sound of another crash of thunder, and she couldn’t help how her own heart seemed to quicken upon seeing that serene expression.
"Our lives are more finite than they ever were," Bethany said distractedly, knowing all Wardens had only a few decades at most after their Joining.
"They are," she conceded. "That’s why I intend to make the most of it." Niamh's expression then turned sheepish as she turned back toward her. "I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the answer you were looking for, was it?"
"No," she admitted, but as mellow as the other woman was, she was hardly surprised. Niamh had a way of remaining positive despite everything else life seemed to throw at them. Bethany smiled in spite of herself. "It was an honest one though. Thank you."
---
Every day is always an interesting adventure.
If not darkspawn, they deal with brigands out on the road or aid people across the countryside. To Bethany’s surprise, their help is openly requested sometimes when they reach a new town or village. Following the Blight, the utter bravery of the Grey Wardens had earned them Ferelden’s deepest respect. Thus, despite the fact they’re two mages traveling about, their regalia draws easy admiration and conversation alike.
It’s admittedly an odd feeling to have as a mage: to be wanted.
Bethany slowly grows to enjoy it though, especially when she can help with her magic so openly without being reviled for it.
Sometimes the jobs asked of them are simple enough: deal with a band of thieves, rid the area of rabid animals encroaching too close to farmland, helping out with some odds and ends around the village, etc.
Given that Niamh is a veteran of the Fifth Blight, Bethany also ends up learning a lot of survival skills from her during their travels together. She’s endlessly amazed by how the other mage utilizes her magic in combat and with other tasks such as hunting or fishing.
Bethany’s understandably shocked when she realizes that Niamh knows how to shapeshift, often scouting the skies as a raven to search for any nearby danger or roaming the wilderness as a sleek-looking, black wolf to hunt for game. It’s an unexpected revelation, especially since the other woman admitted to having been a part of the Circle most of her life before being recruited as a Warden.
She’s never met another mage so intriguing.
While Anders had been a benevolent healer, offering his skills to those most in need, it was his restless anger—an almost blind righteousness—over the plight of mages that gave Bethany pause.
Merrill was sweet in comparison, of course, and Bethany never minded talking with her even if there were the occasional cultural gaps that led to amusing misunderstandings at times. Still, the other woman held an interest in blood magic that Bethany wasn’t entirely certain she was comfortable with. After all, she had grown up hearing about the dangers of such magic from the Chantry. Then again, Andrastian religion also denounced who she was as a person as well, which was depressing in its own right…
While Niamh’s aptitude for elemental magic alone is impressive, Bethany is certain the woman’s shapeshifting draws upon some form of ancient or arcane magic—something well outside of the Circle’s teachings. It draws her curiosity endlessly. As such, Bethany asks her about the skill one day. Niamh just smiles, idly toying with the wooden ring that sits on a cord of black leather around her neck, revealing that a former companion taught it to her.
And that’s how Bethany learns about Morrigan.
---
“What?” Bethany exclaimed when Saoirse revealed how she was able to survive the slaying of the Archdemon. “You’re telling me that she and Niamh were able to…” She trailed off, trying to fight the blush burning across her face as her mind began imagining the possibilities of how such a conception was possible.
“You know, I thought to ask Niamh the technicalities of it once, but given she’s my baby sister—and obviously lacks the essential, uh, tool for the matter—I just decided it was best not to pry,” Saoirse answered dryly. She idly waved her hand about. “I don’t care to learn about her intimate life any more than she cares to know about mine,” she added before the corner of her mouth lifted into a lazy grin. “But for all intents and purposes, Kieran is my nephew, and Morrigan’s very much family now despite her protests to the contrary.”
“And he has the soul of an Old God?” she asked quietly as she turned to look at Kieran and the two women who were his parents.
Oghren had heard of their latest visitors and was—
Bethany squinted in confusion.
He was doing some type of weird jig in front of the baby, who was currently in Morrigan’s arms. Unfortunately, the erratic, uncoordinated nature of it did nothing to amuse him or his mother. Seemingly uncomfortable by the sight, Kieran gave an unhappy whine before reaching out toward Niamh, little fingers grasping repeatedly in her direction. Morrigan transferred him easily into the other woman’s arms when it was clear she wouldn’t mind holding him, allowing her to dryly berate the dwarf while Niamh comforted their son.
“So Morrigan says, yes,” the warrior answered with a shrug. “I originally turned down her ritual because I couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting an innocent life to such a fate, but I can’t be mad at the result. I still have Leliana because of it, and I can see how much Niamh adores both Kieran and Morrigan.” Her smile softened. “She has a piece of the happiness that I always wanted for her—something Niamh felt she could never find in this world, terrible as it is for mages at times.”
Bethany couldn’t help but agree at the latter sentiment.
Looking at the three of them, they certainly did seem like a happy family. Still, Bethany couldn’t help but feel some small pang of envy. While she had discovered that Niamh could draw just about anyone into easy conversation with her, she was rather private about her personal life. It wasn’t until recently that Bethany discovered she was even in a relationship—let alone one involving another woman. She had no issue with the idea or with Morrigan for that matter. The other mage was well-matched with Niamh on the basis of intrigue alone, but…
Bethany bit her lip.
After all those long months together with Niamh, she couldn’t help but feel—
Bethany nearly swallowed her tongue when she realized sharp, golden eyes were staring at her over Niamh’s head—as if somehow reading her thoughts. Morrigan was tall for a woman of Fereldan origin, but not nearly as much as Saoirse. With her dark hair and pale skin, she was as bewitching as she was powerful—her magical aura a fount of seemingly endless, wild energy. Bethany almost felt like prey beneath the other woman’s gaze, and she averted her own nervously.
Thankfully, Morrigan made no comment about it, but Bethany did wince when she heard her suggest turning into bed early to Niamh. She and Kieran had arrived relatively late in the day after all, so they were no doubt tired from their travels. Niamh gave no objections, and they soon headed off to the woman’s personal quarters.
Bethany sighed soundlessly.
She was no stranger to infatuation. Her attraction to Leliana back in Lothering was a testament to that fact. Granted, it was also somehow deeply ironic that her commanding officer was now married to the same lay sister who had since gone on to become the Left Hand of Divine Justinia.
Sometimes she couldn’t help but think the Maker enjoyed toying with her in subtle, annoying ways. In any case, like with any other infatuation, she would just have to wait for the one she had on Niamh to run its course.
It couldn’t last forever after all.
---
Spoilers: it does.
---
During one of her occasional visits, Morrigan left Kieran temporarily in the care of Niamh to follow up on a magical lead involving some of her arcane research. As they weren’t needed outside of Vigil’s Keep for anything, Bethany also got to watch over him as well, and as she did, she brought up a question that she had long been curious over.
"You said you started the ritual with Morrigan when you were already a Warden, weren't you? I thought Wardens became barren after the Joining though?"
"Hm. That's the assumption, yes," Niamh said as she idly waved a stuffed griffon over Kieran, delighting the baby instantly as they laid on the floor together. "I’d been a Warden for a little over a year at that point. Perhaps it was still soon enough that infertility hadn’t affected me yet, or the spell did something to compensate for it."
Bethany just nodded as she looked over at the two of them. "I see bits of you in him."
"Do you?"
"Yes," she admitted easily enough. "There's his sweet nature, the way he seems far too clever for his own good at times, and how his eyes light up whenever he smiles or laughs."
Niamh chuckled, flattered over the assessment. "Morrigan and I are always arguing about it. I see more of her than me in him, but then she retorts that he’s retained my love of sweets and just about every known creature in existence." Her smile widened when tiny, grasping hands finally succeeded in pulling down the stuffed griffon in her hands, and Kieran wasted little time in snuggling the toy to his chest with a pleased hum.
"Do you regret not being able to see him whenever you wish?"
"Sometimes," Niamh answered, "but Morrigan’s mother…" She trailed off with a frown even as she ran a hand affectionately through her son’s hair. "She’s powerful, and she’s hurt her before. I can understand her caution. I’m willing to go years at a time without seeing them if it means they’re safe."
---
Morrigan eventually returns, and she takes Kieran with her to hide and do magical stuff as Empress Celene’s Arcane Advisor in Orlais as per canon.
Several months pass.
Although Niamh had professed to understanding the need for her little family’s relocation, the distance means that visits from them are now few and far in between. Bethany can see how much the other woman misses them and how she worries about their safety. She often catches Niamh distractedly playing with the ring on her necklace, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
As if anticipating that, Morrigan does send letters to Niamh every now and then, and Niamh’s entire expression lights up every time she receives them, learning how the other woman and Kieran are fairing in Orlais along with how their son continues to grow by leaps and bounds.
She cannot fault the happiness Niamh has found with Morrigan, but it also serves as a constant reminder of what life will never offer to Bethany.
Eventually, it gets to a point where Bethany grows resentful of their relationship because her own feelings for Niamh are just so strong by then. It causes her to lash out at Niamh one night in camp, angry with how calm and positive she always is despite knowing they all have a death sentence over their heads.
---
"What world do you live in that you see it through such an idyllic lens?! You can wax poetic about this life all you like! I never asked for this! I never asked for the darkspawn to steal what little I had from life only to be made the gatekeeper against the very things I despise most in this world!"
And Niamh was quiet for the longest time, having stopped mid-sentence over Bethany's sudden tirade. As the silence continued to drift over their camp, so too does a veil of sudden cold air, and Bethany realized far too late that she’d crossed a line with the other woman.
"No one does, really," Niamh admitted at last, the warmth gone from her voice. "Save for Saoirse and my brother, I lost most of my family, but the terrible thing was that it wasn’t even darkspawn that killed them or even the Blight. It was just one man’s petty greed for what he felt was owed to him. He pretended to be my family’s ally for decades, and under the cover of night, he used his men to slaughter nearly the entirety of my bloodline. My parents, my sister-in-law, my nephew… He was only eight when it happened, you see. Oren wanted to a warrior like my siblings. He was trying to defend his mother with one of those wooden swords young boys tend to play with, but against the likes of Howe’s men...” She clenched her jaw. “They gutted him just like everyone else."
Another pause stifled the air between them even as Bethany stared at Niamh, horrified.
"Darkspawn are terrible, yes, but they’re not always as terrible as people," Niamh said, eyes narrowing as she looked into the fire. "We can be so far worse. If I'm at all patient, it's because I try to be kind in a world that offers so little of it. I want to believe it can be better than it was before. I want this to be a better place for our people, but I also want to ensure that tragedies like that never happen again. That the people caught in the middle—victims of simple circumstance—don’t have so suffer. If it means I must be a Grey Warden in addition to a mage, then I accept it. To do otherwise damns them as much as me."
With that, Niamh then gracefully rose to her feet and headed back to her own tent, leaving Bethany alone at the campfire.
The rest of their journey back to Vigil’s Keep passed without much conversation between them despite Bethany’s attempts. Niamh only said enough to give a suitable answer, but she never offered anything more beyond it. A vault door had seemed to close behind the cool grey of the eyes that had long enraptured her, offering little warmth. It was clear Bethany was no longer privy to the other woman’s innermost thoughts and feelings
Niamh wasn’t petty, however.
She still hunted when necessary so they didn’t starve, and as was long part of their agreement together, Bethany continued to cook whatever game she caught. Other than that, however, Niamh offered no friendly greetings in the morning when they woke or any words that allowed her to wander off peacefully into the Fade as she slept.
Bethany didn’t realize just how much she’d miss them.
---
When they finally return to Vigil's Keep, Saoirse is confused by how quiet and despondent her sister seems to be. Given how amiable Niamh normally is, she has a right to be concerned.
She pulls Bethany aside one night to ask what happened since they normally get along so well, but Bethany and Niamh haven't even spoken a word to one another since their return.
Bethany ruefully explains the situation, but she doesn't reveal the actual reason why she lashed out to begin with. As such, Saoirse just assumes it was just the usual stress of being a Grey Warden.
---
"Ah. It happens to the best of us, really. Here." Saoirse handed Bethany a tin box. Something Orlesian, according to the script on it. "Leliana’s currently away on business in Val Royeaux, but she sends care packages out to me whenever she can. This one's for Niamh though. It's tea," she explained with a laugh. "She loves this stuff more than anyone else I know."
Bethany still felt badly over the situation however.
“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“Oh, Niamh’s too well-mannered to outright ignore someone,” Saoirse insisted with a brief snort. “If anything, she becomes more… Well. ‘Distantly-polite’ as my wife would describe it. Besides, I have it on good authority that she never turns down a good cup of tea.” A lazy, conspiratorial grin played on her lips then. “Especially if there’s a spoonful or two of honey in it.”
That eventually culminated in Bethany making tea for Niamh that evening, who had been locked away in her office as of late. Bethany was still nervous despite receiving permission to enter the room, allowing her to face the woman who she hadn’t seen in nearly a fortnight. Concern grew within her when she saw the shadows beneath Niamh’s eyes—a familiar indication that she had been working far too hard. She watched as Niamh struggled to blink the exhaustion from her eyes as she regarded her, but she otherwise said nothing, simply waiting to hear what Bethany required of her.
“I’m sorry," Bethany said at last, contrition clear in her voice. "This isn’t the life I would have wanted for myself, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at you when you were merely trying to help.” She held out the still-steaming mug of tea in her hands—the very thing Saoirse had convinced her would make for a suitable peace offering. “Here,” she offered with a tentative smile. “If you’re going to be working through the night again, you should at least drink something.”
For a time, Bethany believed the other woman was just going to remain silent. It would have been well-deserved given how terribly she behaved the other week, but then Niamh reached out to gently take the mug from her.
"Thank you," she said at last, the ice slowly melting behind those wintry eyes, and as they did, Bethany could feel the vice around her heart gradually unhinge itself in relief.
---
Things pretty much go back to normal between them.
Niamh and Bethany are back on the road again, especially after several reports of wandering darkspawn near the outskirts of a town.
As expected, however, Bethany's longing toward Niamh is still there—constant as an evening star. Even with the taint of death coursing through them, Niamh’s aura emanates with so much life—like a forest in winter, cool and refreshing with the scent of pine buried beneath its depths, waiting to burst into spring’s lively greenery with just the barest spark of magic.
It fascinates her.
She often wonders if such single-minded focus is a side effect of the Joining other than the enhanced physical strength and the ability to sense darkspawn. She feels a hunger that is never sated, a thirst that is never parched, and also…
Amber eyes wander over to where Niamh is disrobing to bathe in the nearby river, and she catches sight of the elegant play of muscles along her back before she studiously turns her gaze away. She feels the way her face burns even as she feels something else stir in her veins.
---
While still traveling, they get attacked by some hapless bandits, and while the two women aren't hurt, they manage to lose one of their tents to a stray grenade.
They end up sleeping in the remaining tent together, but it’s small, and they huddle together inside it for warmth against the pouring rain outside.
Bethany is surprised when she unexpectedly wakes up in Niamh’s arms—one is around her waist, and the other is curled behind her shoulders—which pull her closer in sleep. Sometimes she’s amazed at just how warm the other woman is, and although she knows she should pull away to avoid any awkward conversations in the morning, she can’t bring herself to do so. This is probably as close as she’ll ever get to the intimacy she desires with Niamh, and while the moment won’t last forever, it’ll be one more memory she can cherish—something no one else can ever steal from her.
Idly, Bethany listens to the rain outside—now a gentle pattering instead of the rage of a growing storm—falling against the material of the tent, and the sound is so rhythmic that she begins to doze off again.
---
Sometime after that, they receive a letter from Stroud, who requests their assistance with a matter out in the Free Marches. Saoirse stays behind to oversee things at Vigil’s Keep, which leaves Niamh and Bethany to travel across the Waking Sea with Nathaniel as additional support.
They arrive in Kirkwall several days before the qunari invasion begins in full, but not long after they do, Nathaniel’s reconnaissance around the city reveals something terrible:
Bethany’s mother was murdered.
Bethany is understandably upset, but Niamh and Nathaniel do their best to comfort her. They end up holding a small wake in honor of Leandra.
By the time they manage to rendezvous with Stroud, the qunari invasion has already begun, and they’re caught in the middle of it, leading to the Wardens running into Emrys Hawke and her companions.
Emrys obviously wants to talk to her little sister, but Bethany is resistant to the idea since her emotions are still riding high with the news of their mother’s death and the ever-present resentment regarding how she was made into a Warden without her say so on the matter.
Niamh recognizes Bethany’s tension and politely tells Emrys to leave the matter be for the time being. There is little point in having a conversation if one half of the party isn’t ready to have it after all.
Running on adrenaline, the warrior objects and tries to push her out of the way, but Bethany retaliates immediately on Niamh’s behalf. She presses her hand against her sister's chestplate and essentially shoves her back several steps, momentarily forgetting her Warden strength. Both Hawkes seem surprised by the ease in which she can do that.
---
“Bethany?” Emrys uttered in confusion, especially as her sister outright glared at her.
"You do not accost Warden-Constable Cousland that way!"
“Wait… ‘Cousland?’” Emrys looked over to the woman in question, taking in the obvious staff situated across her back. A wolf’s head ornament adorned the top of the weapon in exquisitely-sculpted silverite, and her eyes slowly widened in realization, remembering tales of the mage who could bend the very heavens to her whims. “Wait, you’re the Storm Wolf of Ferelden? Sister to the Hero of Ferelden?”
The woman merely gave a long-suffering sigh in response. “I suppose I was being too optimistic in assuming Leliana’s tales would’ve lost their weight this far past Ferelden’s borders…”
---
Despite the chaos ravaging itself across Kirkwall, the Wardens can’t stay to help. As such, they’re not there to see the end of the invasion. It isn’t until Bethany returns to Ferelden with the others that she receives a letter from Varric, saying that Emrys nearly died in her duel against the Arishok.
While Varric takes the time to mention that Emrys is recovering, and that her bravery led to her becoming Kirkwall’s Champion, the idea that Bethany had nearly lost the very last member of her family is so shocking that she's left inconsolable one night.
---
"I was such an absolute wretch to her before we left, and she nearly died afterward!” she wept when Niamh came to check on her in her room. “She’ll never forgive me!"
The other woman’s eyes are sympathetic as she held her in her arms. "Don’t be so sure."
"How can you say that?" Bethany demanded as she looked up at her, eyes red and swollen with grief.
"I’ve seen the way you talk about her, Bethany. The memories stir up more than just hurt within you,” she explained. “They light your eyes up with joy in remembrance of them. I’m sure she misses you and wishes things had gone differently. She wouldn’t have bothered sending all these letters to you otherwise over the years.
"My siblings did the same when I was still in Kinloch Hold, where I often wondered if my family had forgotten all about me. There were times I feared my being a mage would have meant their love for me would have gone away, but it didn’t. I received letters from them all the time—sometimes over the most asinine things like Saoirse’s warhound tossing bits of her armor into the pig pen." Niamh rolled her eyes, but Bethany could see the fondness in her gaze before they refocused on her.
"Your sister has asked for nothing in return even in the times where you never sent word back. I won’t tell you how to resolve this. You were right in saying that no one truly asks for this life, but I believe she only had the best of intentions when she entrusted your safety to Stroud. Trust in that if nothing else, and if you still find the matter wanting, tell her so." Something sad and brittle lingered on the smile she shared with her. "The what-ifs hurt more than the reality of things at times. No one deserves that."
---
Niamh helps to cheer Bethany up over the course of several weeks.
They’re off in a nearby town, investigating more sightings of darkspawn, and Niamh goes downstairs to pay the innkeeper for breakfast while Bethany packs up some of her belongings to continue their journey. When she reaches for her staff, she blinks, startled to find an ice flower blossoming on the end of it. She stares in surprise at the door the other woman had left through because there’s no way someone else could have done this.
It's almost like something out of a scene from one of those romantic tales Leliana used to tell her back in Lothering. She had thought them nonsense at first—that surely no one actually did such sweet things in real life—but now…
Bethany gently brushes her fingers over the beautifully-conjured petals and leaves, feeling the cool aura radiating from them.
Now she’s not so sure.
---
During their travels, they’re ambushed by darkspawn, and in the middle of the fighting, the ground manages to crumble beneath both women’s feet. The fall is long and painful as they slide down an old mine shaft, and soon they find themselves down in the Deep Roads. Unfortunately, it's an area they haven't charted yet, so they have no idea where they even are.
They have rations from the last time Niamh hunted and smoked some game, but they know it won't last forever. They can feel the press of darkspawn everywhere against their senses, and it's difficult to get any real bearing down in the tunnels because of it. The ambushes are sporadic throughout the days as they try to find their way back to the surface. They have taken to sleeping in brief shifts so they’re not caught unaware.
One fight lags on long enough that they have to retreat, but their enemies lead them right into the lair of a broodmother.
Bethany has never seen something so hideous in all her life, but when she turns briefly to Niamh, she’s disquieted to find the other woman looks more terrified than she's ever seen her. She barely has time to think over that before the darkspawn attack them again, but now they have the broodmother and her various tentacles to dodge as well.
The fight rages on for quite awhile, long enough that Bethany voices the thought they might never see Vigil's Keep again.
---
“No.”
"Niamh—"
"No!" she repeated firmly, glaring as she lashed out with an arm, incinerating an advancing line of darkspawn to their right. "I am getting you out of here! I swear it!"
You.
Not us.
What are you planning, Niamh? Bethany couldn't help but think worriedly.
Then she felt the sudden rush of magic—causing Bethany to almost stumble in place at the overwhelming sensation—as Niamh’s aura manifested itself more tangibly in an array of colors. Blinding arcs of lightning and lines of roaring flames raced across her form, and Bethany could see her own breath forming in rapid, exhausted puffs as the temperature inside the entire cavern seemed to drop even as the stone walls rattled ominously from the breadth of absolute magic being conjured.
The power of it was soon unleashed as Niamh slammed her staff end into the ground, allowing countless rays of energy to simply explode from her body. They radiated out like spectral hands of vengeance, and the cries of the darkspawn were nearly drowned out entirely as utter destruction rained down upon them. Each blast hit like deafening peals of thunder, and the echoes of them spanned for several long heartbeats, leaving Bethany’s ears ringing even after everything eventually fell silent.
As the dust and debris finally settled from the turbulent winds, she could see the other mage leaning heavily upon her staff, utterly exhausted. Each breath she took seemed to be a laborious effort, but Bethany watched as those eyes remained keenly alert to their surroundings, waiting to see if any of the darkspawn she had laid waste to would try and attack them again. They both tensed upon hearing the low, wailing groan of pain, and they looked to the far side of the cavern to see the broodmother still alive—albeit barely.
While already repulsive, it was now a macabre mass of flesh, bleeding sluggishly from the wounds inflicted by Niamh’s attack. Bloated skin bore severe burn marks, and entire chunks of flesh were missing. One of the broodmother’s arms had been severed completely, but the heat from one of the elemental attacks had unintentionally cauterized the fat stump even if Bethany grimaced upon seeing the pink-tinged bone that still protruded from it. The broodmother’s entire form seemed to slump back with what they assumed was her final breath, but then the sudden sound of earth breaking behind them alerted them far too late to a final danger.
Bethany turned her head just in time to see a lashing tentacle sprout from the ground, and her mind barely registered the sight of it before she heard the frantic call of her name along with warm hands pressing against her side.
"Bethany!"
As if time had slowed itself, she watched in horror as Niamh pushed her out of the tentacle’s swooping path, but in doing so, the other woman took the brunt of the attack entirely. Niamh was sent flying into one of the naturally-formed pillars of the cavern, impacting it hard enough that it broke at its center, raining rubble down upon the mage resting eerily still at its base until she was buried beneath it.
Bethany’s eyes remained fixed on the sight even as she shakily rose to her hands and knees. An overwhelming sense of disbelief overtook when her longtime partner didn't emerge at all out of the stone pile. In fact, there's a terrifying lack of anything in that direction.
Nothing of the taint in Niamh's blood.
No sound.
No magic.
Just... nothing.
Distantly, she could hear the half-dying moans of the broodmother somewhere beyond her peripheral vision. Although Bethany was all too aware of how dangerous her current situation still was, all she could feel was a staggering rush of absolute rage building inside her. It seemed to grow with every beat of her heart until she could hear it pounding inside her ears—a drumming sound of accusation over the fact that she had been powerless to help someone dear to her yet again.
It was her anger that gave birth to the sudden burst of power—whether a second wind or simply a dying gasp, she didn’t immediately know—but Bethany whirled to face the grotesque beast, magic already gathering within her hands. With an infuriated cry, she pressed her palms out, and she felt the immense displacement of air around her immediately as she summoned enough force magic to take up almost the entire space of the cavern. The pressure of it proved too much against the broodmother, and Bethany watched impassively as its enormous body was flung toward the far wall with enough violence that it was reduced to a grisly splatter of darkened blood, pulverized bone, and putrid meat.
With its death, Bethany felt the presence of darkspawn waiting beyond the cavern retreat even further, as if afraid of tempting her fury. Safe from any immediate threats, however, she wasted little time in rushing over to where she last saw Niamh. She used her hands and magic to try and dig her out beneath the rubble, but when she found her, fear took hold of her immediately when she realized the other woman wasn’t breathing anymore. Desperately, Bethany tried to use her healing magic in an attempt revive her, but to her utter dismay, the chest beneath her hands remained impossibly still.
“Oh, no…” she breathed. “No. No! You can’t be dead! Niamh, get up!”
But her cry fell on deaf ears.
Despite her best efforts, no matter how much healing she tried to force through the other woman’s veins, Niamh didn’t respond. As each minute continued to pass by in silence, Bethany began to wonder what she’d have to tell Morrigan if she ever made it back to the surface, let alone the little boy with Niamh’s kind smile. It would be such a terrible thing, she knew, informing them the woman they loved died trying to save her.
Just like everyone that ever entered her life.
Leaving before she even got the chance to give her goodbyes.
Bethany withdrew her healing magic and began conjuring lightning beneath her hands instead—the same way Niamh had taught her once upon a time—desperate for anything that could attempt to shock some life back into the other woman. Niamh’s body jolted with each burst of power, head lolling about along the dirt, but she still remained impossibly beyond Bethany’s reach—perhaps now wandering past the Fade and into the Maker’s embrace.
At the thought, her anguish soon gave way to anger.
“Damn you, you selfish wretch!” she shouted as she pressed her hand over the woman’s sternum with another pulse of electricity. “I never asked you to try and save my life! You don’t get to do this to me! You don’t get to just leave me here when I never had to chance to tell you everything! Not when you don’t even know I love y—”
Just as she went to jolt the other woman again, Bethany felt a hand firmly wrapping itself around her wrist.
Shocked, she looked up toward Niamh's face, especially as she heard a very weak cough. The other mage hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she saw how the still blue-tinged lips began to move—too soft for her to hear anything. Bethany lowered her head to listen more closely and soon heard a quiet question.
"...are you alright?"
Her breath caught in her throat, and fresh tears began to fill Bethany's eyes again in spite of herself.
Even after everything they had both suffered through, Niamh's first concern had still been solely for her.
With a shaky breath, she carefully curled herself up against Niamh’s form, crying silently even as she rested her hand against the other woman's stomach to continue and apply weak, healing magic.
That was how the other Wardens found them later.
"There they are."
Bethany didn’t pick her head up off the floor, but there was little mistaking Morrigan's distinct voice. Saoirse’s own followed soon after.
"I owe you my thanks for this, Morrigan."
“Thank your sister; I would not have been able to find her were she still not wearing the ring I gave her years ago.”
A weary chuckled greeted the mage’s words. “Ever the sentimental woman, my little sister…”
The sound of heavy footsteps treading closer caused Bethany to look up, and she could see Saoirse kneeling down next to them. The warrior’s face was worn with stress, but there was nothing but relief in her eyes as she saw them both together. "It appears I owe you my thanks as well, Bethany." She jerked her head up then, shouting out an order. "Get a litter for them now!"
"But I'm not nearly as injured," Bethany protested, drawing her hand away from Niamh’s body self-consciously, especially when Morrigan appeared and began to take over healing and stabilizing the woman’s condition with fresh magic.
"No," Saoirse admitted even as her lips lifted up into a tired smile. "But you and I both know what a terrible patient my sister is. I’ll be depending on you to make sure she behaves herself if she wakes up during our trek back to Vigil’s Keep.” She gently clapped a hand over Bethany’s shoulder. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”
“Warden-Commander—”
“No. Niamh and I have lost enough in our lives. It would have hurt me to lose her as well.”
---
Niamh remains unconscious for several days as she recovers back at Vigil's Keep.
Bethany and Morrigan basically take turns looking after her.
Despite the other woman’s position as a member of Orlais’ Imperial Court, it seemed Morrigan returned to Ferelden after receiving a frantic letter from Saoirse, saying that Niamh and Bethany had been missing for several days following a routine mission.
As mentioned in the previous section, Morrigan gave Niamh a ring, which would allow her to find her were she ever in danger. It proved especially useful when Niamh and the other Wardens were imprisoned in Fort Drakon, where Saoirse essentially put her foot in her mouth and ruined their attempt to sneak Queen Anora out of the estate she had been held captive in.
I believe the ring is only canonically available if a player is in a romance with Morrigan. However, I’m headcanoning that because she held Niamh in such high esteem, she gave it to her anyway.
Kieran is also present at Vigil’s Keep because there’s no way Morrigan was leaving him behind in Orlais. He’s about five years old at this point, and he’s grown to inherit both his mothers’ looks. A crown of dark, loose curls sits atop his head much like Niamh’s, and he even fashions a forelock like hers, which hangs in front of his right eye. His gaze is a piercing shade of gold reminiscent to Morrigan’s own. As a possessor of an Old God Soul, he’s also begun to speak cryptically at times, which is understandably jarring to those around him.
Bethany happens upon one such conversation by accident, and she immediately pauses in the doorway when she sees Morrigan and Kieran standing at Niamh’s bedside.
“Sire was caught within the paths of the Fade, Mother. She heard the voices of old ghosts calling to her, but she didn’t follow them.”
Morrigan indulgently runs a hand through her son’s hair. “Indeed; she did not.”
“She missed them though, but she still returned to us.”
“Of course. Why would she desire an eternity without you?” she asked with a fond smile, causing Kieran to giggle.
“That’s not why, Mother! Not completely.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. She would have missed the Sunshine too much. She’s been following her warmth for years. It would have hurt her to be without it.”
Kieran’s words pull at Bethany oddly, but she soon pushes them out of her mind and quietly walks away, feeling too much like an intruder upon the small family.
Thankfully, Niamh regains consciousness not long afterward, and everyone is understandably relieved by this news.
As per usual, however, Niamh proves herself to be an exceedingly stubborn patient, but perhaps wanting to set a better example for Kieran after her near-death experience, she remains in bed for the duration of her recovery. The other woman doesn’t seem to mind too much, especially given that her son continues to keep her company, telling her of the various odd things he’s seen around Orlais and the even odder people.
After several weeks under Morrigan’s watchful eye, the witch begrudgingly says that Niamh's okay to begin light duty around the Keep, relieving the other mage immensely. She goes out herb-gathering, an excuse just to get out of the fortress, and Bethany volunteers to go with her.
Things are quiet between them for a time as they begin picking up elfroot to place in the shared basket between them. Their conversations as of late haven't been of anything too substantial. A good thing, Bethany thinks, considering her feelings for her and how close she’d been to revealing them. Soon, however, they're caught in the middle of a light rain shower, and Bethany says they should head back. She begins to lead their way out of the forest when Niamh’s words stop her in her tracks.
---
"I was waiting for you to say it again, you know."
Bethany looked over her shoulder in surprise to still see Niamh standing in the middle of the clearing, her gaze expectant. “What?” she asked nervously.
"When I nearly died, I heard you say something… significant to me,” she revealed, causing Bethany’s heart to pound as she stared at her in disbelief. “However, when I recovered and you never repeated those words again, I thought it might have been little more than a fever dream of mine." Niamh's smile turned sad then when Bethany said nothing else to her words. "Perhaps it was after all... I’m sorry. I’ve made this rather awkward then, haven’t I?” She took a few steps closer, reaching toward the basket of herbs Bethany still held in her hands. “Here, let me—”
But Bethany just let it drop to the ground before she reached out to grab the collar of Niamh’s cloak. The other woman seemed taken aback, but before she can even begin voicing a question, Bethany pulled her forward to kiss her desperately in the rain, swallowing her gasp of surprise.
As far as first kisses went, it was a touch awkward as their teeth clicked together, lips mashed between them. Bethany felt a moment of panic as Niamh pulled back, but before the urge to run away in mortification could overtake her, a warm palm pressed itself against the back of her neck, keeping her in place. There was the brush of knuckles as they ran along her jaw, and Bethany was just able to catch the silver of Niamh’s eyes before all thought fled from her mind upon feeling the soft press of the other woman’s mouth on hers.
Bethany followed into the easy guidance being offered, and they both soon settled into a comfortable rhythm that sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. She felt light-headed with giddy delight, and her hands reached out to hold onto Niamh’s hips, helping to ground herself there, as their kiss continued. There was a soft sound as Niamh sighed contentedly into her mouth, as if she had been waiting just as long for this moment between them.
The thought seemed almost too impossible to comprehend, especially when she knew Niamh was committed to someone else. As such, Bethany pulled away first despite the sound of protest it caused. Despite her resolve, Bethany was reluctant to pull away from Niamh entirely, so she settled for gently leaning her forehead against the other mage as they panted quietly in the rain.
"I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly, practically speaking the words against Niamh’s lips. "It wasn't my intention to interfere with your relationship with Morrigan."
As close as they were, there was little mistaking the clear confusion in the eyes across from hers. "'With Morrigan?'" Niamh repeated. "What does she have anything to do with us?"
"But… I thought—” Her brows drew together in consternation. “Aren’t you both together?"
"What? No," Niamh answered, almost amused by the idea. "When we laid together for the ritual, it was an agreement of mutual benefit meant only for that night. She's not—Well." An exhale of breath escaped her in the form of laughter. "Morrigan's admitted she's not interested in women—or anyone, really—in quite that way, but none of the male Wardens with us at the time dared to lay with her even if it meant sparing us all from death. She trusted me, and I her. I consider Morrigan one of my dearest friends, and we share Kieran together as a result of that night, yes, but we are certainly not bound together as others seem to believe."
And Niamh’s answer suddenly changed everything.
What Bethany had been feeling, what was now possible between her and Niamh...
She couldn’t help but smile as she finally realized she could have a bit of the happiness she’d always wanted for herself.
---
So everyone knows that they’re a couple after that.
Niamh becomes more overt in the romantic things she does for her—the very same things Bethany had thought were the woman simply being thoughtful. She finds out that Niamh had apparently been interested in her for awhile and had actually been ready to confess her feelings a few years ago, but their first argument, where Bethany had accused her of being too idealistic, had stemmed the thought immediately.
Niamh had been understandably heartbroken by the words, which was why she’d had been so despondent for weeks following the incident, believing Bethany had no romantic interest in her whatsoever. The apology in her office later had restored their friendship, and while Niamh had been disappointed it likely would never evolve into anything more beyond that, she was still determined to be a good friend to her if nothing else.
Bethany’s completely exasperated at the idea that they could have been together long before now, but she realizes it was likely better this way.
She had needed time to get over her anger and resentment regarding her life as a Warden.
She needed time to get past her guilt and the complicated thoughts regarding herself and her faith.
And she needed time to grow into herself and discover who she was as a person.
She’s grateful that Niamh’s been so kind and patient over the years, and Bethany finds great joy in the new facet of their relationship together.
They’ve kissed and been involved in heavy makeout sessions around Vigil’s Keep—much to the exasperation of their colleagues—but barring the incident that led to Kieran’s conception, Niamh’s been celibate for years, and canonical dialogue in DA2 reveals that Bethany’s pretty much a virgin. As such, she’s understandably very shy and nervous about the whole thing. However, she knew every part of her would be in good hands with Niamh when they finally reached that point.
Their first time together takes place several months after their first kiss, where Niamh tries her utmost to make it a memorable thing for them. She takes Bethany to a grove they frequent together outside of Vigil’s Keep for a midnight picnic. The moon is full, and the skies are clear, revealing an endless sea of stars. Little fireflies dance over the surface of the lake while they sit on the grass along its shore.
It’s a casual reminder that for all their hardship, life goes on and finds a way through a magic all of its own.
They stargaze for and handfeed each other little bits of food in between kisses, but soon things start getting a little more heated. Niamh gently tugs Bethany onto her lap, who follows willingly, settling her knees on either side of the woman’s hips. Bethany takes some initiative of her own, pushing at Niamh’s chest slowly until she lowers herself against the grass, and then…
---
Bethany’s breath caught in her throat upon seeing Niamh’s features haloed by the soft glow of the little fireflies. Normally pale eyes had darkened at their edges with both pleasure and interest as she regarded her, leaving Bethany flushed, especially as she realized she doesn’t quite know what to do from there on out.
Perhaps having sensed that, Niamh reached up to gently run a thumb along the corner of her mouth, and Bethany barely resisted the urge to press her lips against the pad in a kiss as slim fingers then went to cup her cheek gently.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Niamh reassured as she brushed a few strands of Bethany’s hair behind an ear. “I quite like kissing you.”
But Bethany did want to.
She knew Niamh had more experience with sexual intimacy, and she worried she couldn’t be able to compare against the woman’s past paramours. There was no expectation in those starlit eyes however. Niamh was as relaxed as she had been when they first started, and Bethany knew she would have been more than content to lay with her beneath the stars if that was all she desired. She was always considerate with her feelings, never pressing her to do more than she was ready.
Thus, Bethany knew Niamh would be patient with her during their first time together.
“If I asked, would you show me what to do?” she whispered tentatively, and she watched as the corners of those lips turned up into soft smile.
“Always,” Niamh answered, gently tugging Bethany’s hand toward the buckle holding the front of her leather and steel-riveted brigandine closed. “Here. Help me out of this first please.”
From there, Bethany quickly realized it all wasn’t quite as simple as the tawdry novels Isabela used to loan her made it out to be. Nothing really prepared for the warmth of the flesh beneath her fingertips as she gradually disrobed her lover of the layers that made up their Warden regalia. Fortune favored the bold, she knew, and she experimented by pressing kisses against skin as more was revealed to her. She smiled against Niamh’s sternum—pleased—when she heard the exceedingly rare quiver in her voice.
As promised, however, the other woman continued to give suggestions on what types of touches would best give pleasure, but she also allowed Bethany to set the pace of whatever she felt most comfortable with. With each encouraging whisper against her ear, each caress and rock of her hand became more confident. When Niamh shuddered beneath her for the first time—the barest hint of magic curling against her own—as she reached her peak, Bethany was convinced that she had never felt more triumphant.
And she didn’t think she had ever felt so unfettered when Niamh later returned the favor by kissing a line of fire down her bare body. Those mist-grey eyes never left her own gaze though. Bethany had long known how attentive the other mage could be. As their lead tactician, there was always a studious quality in how she approached anything set before her.
Feeling the full magnitude of that attention focused solely upon her, however, was another matter entirely. Niamh stared at her as if she had hung the very moon and the infinite tapestry of stars into the night sky. It was like she was her very reason for drawing breath, and the thought of that brought forth a stunning wash of emotions over her as she saw the clear reverence in those eyes—so much so that she couldn’t help the tears beading themselves across her lashes nor her soft, surprised exhale of laughter when Niamh leaned up to gently kiss them away.
It was only when she assured her lover that she was ready to continue that Niamh returned to her exploration. The woman was committed to learning every part of her, gauging every physical response—the touches that made her moan breathlessly or sigh in contentment with the press of lips against her skin—before reacting accordingly. She felt that dedication most vividly as a warm mouth settled between her thighs and began working itself thoroughly there.
Bethany couldn’t help but break eye contact with Niamh as she threw her head back against the cool grass, lost to the new but pleasant sensations coursing their way through her body. Her hips seemed to move of their own volition, especially as the almost overwhelming heat of a tongue pressed itself flat and lapped languidly at her.
After a time, it felt like she was freefalling, and she blindly reached out toward Niamh. One hand sank itself easily into the tousled waves of raven-black hair, but with the other, Bethany found slim fingers gently intertwining themselves with her own. There was strength and reassurance within the warmth of that grasp—a steady tether to ground her—even as Niamh continued with her ministrations, quickly unraveling the foundations of her world.
Were you the answer this entire time?
Were you the one whom my heart was always waiting for?
Bethany found her answer just as her climax crested over her.
---
The next scene takes place several months after Niamh’s and Bethany’s first time together but just before the Kirkwall Rebellion.
Niamh heads over to Amaranthine to see her aunt, Eithne Mac Eanraig, since she's the Arlessa there.
Now, here’s where I’m veering off from canon.
Per the events of Awakening, the Warden ends up becoming the Warden-Commander, and for their services during the Fifth Blight, Vigil’s Keep along with the entire arling of Amaranthine was given to the Grey Wardens. The fortress and the territory originally belonged to the Howes, but after Rendon Howe’s betrayal, all titles and properties were stripped away from them. As such, the Warden-Commander would also become the Arl or Arlessa of Amaranthine.
Per my headcanon though, Saoirse felt that she couldn’t tend to both her duties as a Warden while also ruling over the arling. Thus, she suggests to King Alistair to let her aunt oversee it instead.
While Eithne is technically my own creation, it was canonical that Eleanor had three siblings prior to marrying Bryce Cousland. All the children of Bann Fearcher Mac Eanraig—also known as the Storm Giant—were exceedingly skilled raiders although Eleanor was the most infamous of them. Still, I headcanon that Eithne’s own prowess allowed her to take over as head of the family and their impressive fleet after her father’s death sometime before the events of DAO.
I also headcanon that the Mac Eanraigs and their fleet proved instrumental during the Fifth Blight, allowing desperately-needed supplies to travel to the country without fear of them being intercepted by pirates. When the reconstruction of Ferelden began in full following the defeat of the Archdemon, Eithne opted to expand the services of her family’s fleet, offering to escort any incoming and also outgoing cargo ships. This allowed trade to flourish in Ferelden since the threat of piracy was reduced greatly against the might of the former raiding family and their respective crews. With goods being consistently transported and received, it led to the otherwise pricey import and export tariffs being lowered significantly.
It expanded the influence of the Mac Eanraigs considerably to say the least, and while they were of minor nobility compared to the Couslands, the family was already well-respected for their long connection to the Storm Coast and their role in the Fereldan Rebellion as well as the Fifth Blight.
As such, no objection was given by Ferelden’s Bannorn when the Mac Eanraigs were consequently raised further in nobility by the decree of King Alistair and Queen Anora, allowing Eithne to officially be named Arlessa to the city of Amaranthine.
---
"Aunt Eithne," Niamh began, walking into her office, "may I have access to the castle's forge?"
The older woman was sat behind her desk, looking through various reports when she glanced up at her. Kind, weathered features warmed instantly. "Ah, there's my wee Storm Pup," she said as she rose to her feet to meet her. "You know you’re welcome to anything within the castle, lass. I take it that blacksmith of yours is being stubborn at Vigil’s Keep again?"
As per usual, Niamh found herself looking up at her aunt as she rounded the edge of her desk. While her late mother Eleanor had been roughly her own size, the Mac Eanraigs as a whole towered over most people with their intimidating height and broad-shouldered frames—traits that Fergus and also Saoirse inherited as they grew into adulthood. In her youth, Niamh remembered that her Aunt Eithne had also possessed her mother’s pale blonde hair, but it had since turned silver with age and was now kept in a neat braid that dangled in front of her right shoulder. She imagined that Saoirse would likely resemble their aunt greatly in looks over the next few decades.
…provided they find a cure against the Calling first, of course.
Morrigan’s arcane research had turned up several possibilities, but the latest one she’d found seemed especially promising. Still, Niamh put the thought from her mind momentarily to answer her aunt’s question.
"You and I both know Master Wade won’t allow anyone to go near his forge. He’d pout for weeks on end before we could convince him to resume work again,” she said dryly before shrugging. “Just as well, I suppose. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. What I have in mind is more of a personal project."
Dark grey eyes blinked. "Oh?" she intoned curiously.
"It's... Well." Niamh shifted from foot to foot, a tad nervous to put her thoughts into words. "I'm making matching torcs for Bethany and I, so—oof!"
No sooner after she had stated her purpose did Niamh unexpectedly found herself drawn up into a crushing hug by her aunt, who lifted her clear off her feet with the force of it.
"Haha!" Eithne crowed with delighted laughter as she twirled her about. "Wait until I tell your uncles about this! Why, it’s been ages since we’ve had a wedding in the family!"
"We had one a year ago for Fergus and Olithia," Niamh corrected hoarsely as she tried to wriggle out of her aunt's grip to little avail. Corded muscles built over a lifetime at sea ensured the woman’s strength was nigh unbreakable. "And there was another for Saoirse and Leliana before that."
"Details, wee niece, details," she brushed aside when she placed Niamh back on her feet again, placing large hands over each of her shoulders with a grin. "Honestly, I was half-convinced my ashes would be scattered across the sea before I saw my last niece be married off! Dermot!" she called out loudly beyond the walls of office to her second-in-command, leaving Niamh wincing from the sheer volume of it. "Break out the casks! We’re celebrating tonight!"
Niamh merely sighed, somehow glad that Bethany was currently away from Vigil’s Keep with Nathaniel to tend to a matter out in another seaside province. There was no way she’d be able to surprise her with a proposal otherwise.
---
Bethany didn't know what to really expect when Niamh took her out to their favored grove, but then she was offered a… necklace of some sort. It was thick and sturdy but exquisitely-crafted. It formed an incomplete circle, but there was no clasp holding both ends together. As she took the necklace into her own hands, she found there was a certain pliability to it as she stretched the space between the twin, silverite wolf heads open a bit more.
"I spent weeks getting the details just right," Niamh admitted. "The hardest part was finding the perfect bits of citrine to match your eyes," she added, pointing to the small, gemstone orbs held in the maw of each wolf.
"You made this for me?" Bethany asked, awed.
"Yes. It’s a custom from the maternal side of my family. They’re generally gifted to those of status or individuals who have achieved great deeds. The more bands woven together designate one's importance." Niamh's expression turned somewhat sheepish then. "I don't think it needs to be said that I think highly of you."
Bethany looked at the thick braiding and saw that there were at least five bands wound together in a cord and then welded together.
"I..." Niamh wet her lips briefly, as if caught beneath sudden nervousness. "I realize marriage is usually just a matter of settling titles and heirs, but I believe you know by now that my family tends to eschew commonly-held norms. As such, I would consider it a great honor if you were to become my wife. As for anything official—a wedding for instance—we needn't concern ourselves with it right away. Not if you don't wish to certainly." Silver-colored eyes rolled themselves. "Honestly, my family uses any type of excuse available to throw a celebration. They’ll likely still drink the night away, knowing that I’ve finally settled down with someone."
Bethany couldn’t help but laugh at that. "They were that invested, were they?"
"Before you, they had a tendency to think I was more married to my duty within the Order, and I can’t say that were not wrong in thinking so."
"And that’s changed?"
"Well... I was managing day by day as well as any of our comrades, but I won’t lie in saying that there came a point when you were all I could ever think about in the many moments in between."
It was… quite the confession.
In an instant, all the stories her mother had ever told her of romance paled in comparison to this moment.
"Yes," Bethany said at last, watching as the ghostly-grey eyes across from her widened, but there was little hiding the hope building within their depths.
"Yes?"
"Yes to the—" She stumbled a bit over the word. "—torcs, you said?” Bethany asked in clarification, earning her a nod along with a very relieved sigh. “I don’t want a ceremony.” She bit her lip as she stared down at the thickly-braided necklace. “At least not just yet, but I like the idea of the promise these contain.”
“You would like to have your sister here when the time comes,” Niamh deduced understandingly. “Very well.”
“You can wait?”
A very warm smile burnished beautiful features that she had long fallen in love with so many years ago. “A Chuisle Mo Chroí,” she began, voicing an endearment that never ceased to make her heart flutter, “for you, I would gladly wait a thousand Ages and more.” (Writer’s note: A Chuisle Mo Chroí is phonetically pronounced Ah Khush-lah Muh Kree and means “Pulse of My Heart.”)
The words earned her a heartfelt kiss of gratitude. If Niamh noticed Bethany was trembling, she said nothing of it. In fact, they both had little to say at all as they slowly lowered themselves to the grass and surrendered themselves to the night and the promise of everyday thereafter.
---
The Kirkwall Rebellion still happens in this verse, and because Saoirse's busy butting heads with the higher-ups at Weisshaupt, she sends word to Niamh, asking her to go to Kirkwall to provide Leliana backup if things get bad. Bethany is concerned as well about the well-being of her sister Emrys, and she asks to go with her. Niamh, of course, can't really deny her anything, so they both take the fastest ship across the Waking Sea.
---
"There you are," Bethany declared when she managed to come across her sister and her companions despite the chaos around them. She settled her staff over her back, walking through the tangle of defeated Templars around her to meet them. "We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I'd almost feared you were dead."
Emrys hadn’t expected Bethany’s presence in the city, but she’s beyond elated to see her. At her words, the warrior merely preened. "As if they'd be able to best me. And, uh, what’s this about 'we?'" Emrys asked, confused. “Did you bring the other Wardens with you?”
“Just one.”
As if attuned to her thoughts, Niamh made her entrance then by Fadestepping through a handful of Templars—who had arrived on scene as backup—freezing them in their tracks. She and Bethany had momentarily split up to try and cover more ground in search of Emrys.
Bethany arched a brow at her sister while gesturing toward her lover with an emphatic wave. "You remember Warden-Constable Cousland, don’t you?"
Emrys had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed as she recalled their last meeting, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she regarded Niamh. "Oh. Yes. Uh, about the last time we met—"
But Niamh seemed amused more than anything, waving aside the apology graciously. “Bygones, Champion. No need to worry yourself about the past. My sister’s a warrior as well; I’ve fared worse on the rare occasion."
"In any case, Sister, if you need help, we’ll gladly give it."
“Really?”
“Yes. I…” Bethany swept a bit of hair behind her ear nervously, but as Niamh settled alongside her, offering her wordless support, she continued on. “I wanted to apologize for what happened down in the Deep Roads and for how we parted the last time I was here. You saved my life, but I couldn’t see past my own anger back then. I’m sorry,” she whispered, contrite. “I should have said it long before now. You’re all I have left of our family, so if you need help against the Templars, say the word.”
Emrys looked beyond thrilled at the prospect of having her at her side again. “I’m certainly not going to turn away help now of all times, but…” She shot a look of confusion over toward Niamh. “I thought Wardens weren’t to involve themselves in political matters?"
The other mage merely sighed. “While true, that follows a line of policy that my sister and I strenuously object to, especially given the matter involved here. She and I will deal with the leadership at Weisshaupt later if need be." Slim shoulder shrugged themselves then. "Of course, even if my sister-in-law weren't nearby, Bethany wanted to help, and that was good enough reason for me to be here."
Emrys’ dark brows rose at the claim, and she immediately turned a searching gaze over toward Bethany, who couldn’t help but turn her own away, flushing somewhat.
"Yes… Niamh and I are a bit of a package deal these days."
Unfortunately, the minor shift in movement allowed for something else to be revealed, and Isabela took notice of it immediately as her eyes darted toward the area of her neck just beneath the collar of her uniform.
“Wait… is that a torc?" she asked, brows raising, impressed.
“A what?" Emrys asked, flustered, especially when she saw the matching one that Niamh was also wearing.
“It's a little bit of tradition from my mother’s side of the family,” Niamh explained. “They’re beautifully-crafted pieces of jewelry, but they can be as symbolic as rings, especially in the ceremonial sense."
"'Rings?'" Emrys parroted with a choke. “‘Ceremon—’” The warrior paled instantly as she realized the implication, shakily pressing her hand against a nearby wall to steady herself when she began swaying in place. “Oh, Maker’s breath… I think—I need a moment,” she murmured, and Bethany watched—concerned—when Emrys practically folded in over herself, working to catch a breath. After a time, Emrys’ comically-wide blue eyes turned over to Niamh. “You’re married to my baby sister?"
"Engaged, technically," Niamh answered, blinking owlishly at her reaction. “I proposed to her before we left Ferelden."
---
Annnnd then Saoirse shows up because she got worried about Leliana, and she and Emrys get along like peas in a pod. They’re exceedingly competitive with one another though...
---
“Hah!” Saoirse crowed, grinning smugly at Emrys as she rested the flat of her greatsword along her shoulder. “Is that the best Kirkwall’s Champion can do? I managed to neatly cleave my opponent in half.”
Emrys merely scowled, matching pace with Saoirse as they marched toward The Gallows. “Only because I helped! Besides, that strike wouldn’t have held against him if he had a shield as well!”
“Yes, it would have!”
“Lies!” Emrys scoffed. “It would have been caught halfway through the shield before you would have been able to reach his armor!“
“Not with the proper leverage it wouldn’t have!”
As they argued heatedly about sword techniques, Niamh and Bethany shared a long-suffering glance with one another before moving on ahead of their respective sisters.
“Warriors…”
“Indeed.”
---
Eventually, this all culminates in that huge battle at the end of DA2, where Meredith is defeated. As per canon, it becomes clear that it’s no longer safe for Emrys and her companions to remain within the city without eventually facing possible repercussions from the Chantry. As such, they begin scattering to the winds not long after the end of the rebellion.
---
"You could come with us, you know," Emrys suggested.
Bethany looked over to where her sister stood next to Isabela, ready to board the ship that would take them to Antiva. Emrys’ expression was almost painfully hopeful, but Bethany knew it wasn't meant to be. Although she had resented it once upon a time, she had a duty to the Wardens, and she would not easily abandon it. She said as much to her sister.
"No. Niamh currently seeks a cure that affects the lives of every Warden."
"A cure for the Calling?” she asked, surprised. “Is that even possible?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. She is easily the cleverest person I’ve ever met though. If there is a solution, she will be the most likely one to find it, and I will not stand to be apart from her."
"I see.” Emrys rubbed the back of her neck, shoulders slumping somewhat. “So… this is goodbye again."
It was admittedly a bittersweet feeling, knowing that this had been the first time in years they had seen one another and it would likely be several more yet before they would meet again.
"For now,” she answered quietly. “You have your life, Sister, and now…" She glanced over at Niamh, who was talking to the captain of a ship heading back to lands far to the west—ones that had never been touched by the Blight, according to Morrigan. “I have mine.”
Emrys followed her gaze. “You seem happier."
"I am."
“That’s all I ever wanted for you, you know? Just to know that you were happy.”
“I know that now." Her smile turned more genuine as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around Emrys, hugging her for all she was worth. "I wish the same upon you always. Safe travels to you and Isabela, Sister."
---
And as mentioned in the bullet points up above, they spend several years traveling abroad. Some days are harder than others as they meet their fair share of challenges, but Niamh and Bethany support each endlessly through it all.
They both return to Ferelden several years after the Trepasser DLC when they’ve found a cure for the Calling. With the taint purged from their bodies, they’re guaranteed the long life that would have otherwise been denied to them. As such, Niamh and Bethany finally get married—torcs gleaming bright—as Leliana as Divine Victoria officiates the wedding.
---
And that’s pretty much it.
I have about 20 pages of random scenes I’ve yet to elaborate on for this AU, including one for the huge battle at the end of DA2, so while I don’t see it as being nearly as long as OtSttCA, it’ll likely make for quite the lengthy read when I finally get a chance to work on it properly.
Still, if this verse interests you, leave me a like, a comment, or just swing by my inbox to tell me your thoughts! Until next time, readers! Take care!
#dragon age 2#bethany hawke#female warden/bethany hawke#female cousland/bethany hawke#fanfic#my writing#OTP: In Search of Silver Linings#lee's au ideas#if bioware's too much of a fucking coward to write any version of Bethany a happy ending then i'll write all of them!#we respect bethany hawke endlessly on this blog!
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Long Distance Blues
Commission for someone who does not want to be tagged.
Summary: Reader/Mirage with Mirage out in the games and becoming champion and getting a nude as a ‘congrats’ and ending with video chat sex. Cause that’s long distance babey. First part to my other fic ‘Sleepyhead’.
(Older content)
Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog but makes my day :D
!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!
Fandom: Apex Legends
Relationship: Reader/Mirage
Warnings: R18+/NSFT, PWP, Reader is gender neutral but has a vulva, mutual masturbation, sexting, video sex, long distance relationship, aaaaand toy usage!
Words: 2.3k
_______________
The Apex Games made it hard for someone like you, who was in a relationship with one of the infamous legends, to be able to really have alone time anytime soon with them. Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt was the apple of your eye, and many others who were fans. He was beautiful in the arena and in interviews, cocky and full of smiles and dimples and all over was a nice person to watch and interact with. He had his insecurities, he had his faults, and yet still smiled every day.
Yet, on days like this, you miss him more and more.
The season had started about a month or so ago, and he wouldn’t be coming back to you for another day or two, depending on how long they keep them for a meeting to schedule the next season and new rules. You severely missed waking up to him in the morning to find him cooking breakfast, or seeing him pull the blanket higher when you gently tried to shake him awake.
You missed the little things already like pushing his curls back from his face and kissing his forehead, or him blushing and laughing at you when you called him cute.
~Rest under the cut~
You sigh on the couch, fresh out of your shower and rolled onto your side. Your TV shows the live streams of the Apex games while you tune out the announcers. That is, until they’re beginning to announce the legends coming into the battle.
Mirage’s team consists of Bangalore and Wraith, and you already know he’s going to be acting a fool with the two love birds.
He’s as big of a show off for the cameras as ever on the drop ship, winking before snapping his goggles into place and posing dramatically as Wraith shoves him playfully and Anita rolls her eyes big and hard dramatically. They all make a killer squad, that much you know. All of them together were deadly, but with all their skills combined?
You smile at the screen when the camera pans back to him and he blows a kiss at the camera before making a heart with his fingers and jumping off the ship with Bangalore and Wraith in tow. You sigh a bit like a newly in love teen, snuggling deeper into your pillows and hugging the hoodie around you. It was one of his, warm and soft with the Apex logo on the back.
The games aren’t really your thing. You just don’t get excited about the blood and warfare they commit against each other. You’re much more into it for the banter when the cameras can pick up the audio or tap into the comms that they all have. Of course, you watch it to support your partner as well, but honestly it’s quite funny to hear them all during the beginning portions of the matches. Or towards the middle where they’re all trying to find each other.
Down to ten squads and it changes camera focus a few times to how the teams are so split off in different areas. With the ring approaching, it makes for a smaller field, smushing them closer together. The camera pans to your partner’s squad, the squad kill count being ‘five’ on the screen as voices are picked up. “Yeah but can you really blame me?” Comes your partner’s voice, zooming in closer to him leaning back against a wall as Bangalore leans around the corner to check for any movement.
“When it comes to jokes,” Comes Wraith’s voice on the other end, the camera watching her lying prone on the rooftop and eye focused on her scope. “You really are terrible with them. Get better material.” Her lips quirking up as she finishes her playful statement.
The camera flicks back to Elliott, who holds a hand dramatically over his heart and points up at the ceiling with his gun approximately where she’s at. “Hey! Take that back! I’m funny- Bangalore?”
Only for him to get a look from the woman and a one shouldered shrug. “On a stage full of clowns you’d look right at home.”
“Yeah!” Elliott chimes in as they begin to move, only to pause, a funny look on his face as he processes her insult. “Hey!!!”
You smile big at the screen as it flips to the next set of legends. Leave it to your Elliott to be the crowd favorite in tense times like this.
--
They end up winning as champions. Anita takes the kill count to the highest of six people in grand total, Elliott comes close with five, but Wraith takes last with three kills under her belt but more hits and accuracy. All three of them look proud, with Elliott’s arms around his favorite ladies and beaming brightly before the broadcast is cut out and the next channel pulls up. You immediately turn off the TV, grabbing your phone to text him.
You debate on just letting him know he did a good job and what you found were highlights, but your texts from this morning catch your eye. Elliott mentioning how horny he was and how he missed you. You bite your bottom lip as you consider your options.
Tell him he did a good job and you’re going to bed, ooooor reward him with a job well done?
A sly smile catches your lips as you immediately begin to pose, lying out on the couch and catching the bottom of the hoodie between your teeth as you bring it up. Showing off your chest as you grab one of your breasts and pose the camera so it can view your body from lips down to about your knees. Showing off soft curves and the softness around your middle, your little short pajama shorts hiding everything else.
You send it with the caption ‘Good job out there, baby! Want a sneak peek before you come home? <3’
He must still be out at the ceremony because when he does check his phone, the message pops up as ‘read!’ but then nothing else. You laugh as you try to picture his face, startled and open as he scrambles to shut the message.
You take the time to take a few more with varying poses and angles, always making sure to make it blatantly obvious you were in his hoodie. Ending up migrating to the bedroom so you could get comfier on your shared bed- and take pictures using the mirrors spanning the closet doors.
You take one you’re really proud of. Stripping out of your shorts and underwear, dragging the hoodie’s bottom down to between your thighs as you sit on your knees and splay out your bare legs. You bite your bottom lip, peeking up and at the mirror as you take the picture.
As you hit send is when the rest start reading as read. He replies back to you, saying that he just made it to his room, lots of him going ‘holy shit’ and then soon enough, you got a picture back.
It’s of him, lying on his bed with a hand pulling his sweatpants down to show the dark curls between his thighs and a tent in his pants. He captions it ‘Look how hard you’ve gotten me’ with a crying emoji and you can’t help laughing a bit but eyeing him up.
He looked so good with the warm light of the lamp illuminating his warm flesh. His shirt is pulled up just enough to show off his mid-riff and you can see the bit of a wet spot on the front of his pants juuuuust enough. He was always so sensitive, seemed to be even now without your touch he was already so willing and wanting.
After a few more heated exchanges is when you finally turn on your computer and pull up the video chat. Calling him and watching him immediately pick up on his own laptop. Elliott’s curls are a mess, his sweatpants are tugged down to mid-thigh and his hand is around his cock as he strokes languidly. Watching your eyes follow his hand as he laughs softly, “Hey there yourself.”
You, who was lying on your side, lower half off camera but one arm disappeared below the screen to show you were obviously touching yourself. You hum instead at him, smiling idly and bringing your hand up to make a show of licking your fingers off just to hear him hiss.
“Fuck- babe. Look at you. Come on, spread your legs, let me see.” He all but whines at you and you almost raise a brow. Taking control? That wasn’t normally his way of things. But, Elliott was also riding the high of being champion. You’ll indulge him.
For now.
You push back the laptop to show off your whole body, watching as his eyes greedily drink you in and his hand squeezes a bit harder at the base of his cock. Elliott was putting on quite a show as you slide up onto your knees. Letting your body chest down be seen as you spread your thighs open slowly, letting him get a good look at how wet you were. Glistening and flushed as you use two fingers to spread open your cunt to show him even more of you.
“Shit,” He hisses out, eyes hungrier than ever as you watch his tongue flick out over his lips. You just know he wants to taste you, you know damn well what that mouth can do. Your clit jerks at the motion and he all but whines at you. “I can’t wait to be home.”
You make a show of sliding two of your fingers down, catching your clit in the crook of them and rubbing until you’re perked and ready. Soon lowering and curling two fingers in yourself, your other hand grabbing at your breast and toying with your nipple just to watch his eyes flutter. But, before he can come up with another cocky thing, tell you what to do, you coo at him, “What a good boy. Do you like watching me?”
Just those few words ‘good boy’, that makes his entire facial features change. Elliott goes from hungry predator to flustered immediately, cheeks and ears red as his head falls back briefly to stroke himself a little faster. With the upper hand now on your side, you coo again to him.
“Don’t you want to watch me, baby boy?” You murmur softly, worried it doesn’t catch on the mic at first until his head near immediately zips back up to watch you. His hand is stuttering on his cock, as if he doesn’t want to cum too early as he squeezes at the base. His cock is shiny from lube, you assume, or saliva. Flushed and hard and bobbing back against his abdomen when he lets go to adjust his laptop a bit.
“Fuck yourself? Please?” Elliott all but sobs for you as you tease your own cunt with your fingers. You eye the toy you’d set on the bed beside you anyway, a rabbit vibrator you dearly loved. You think about putting on a strap on too, stroking it like he is his cock and telling him how you’d fuck him raw if he was here.
You’ll let him have this much.
When you go off screen briefly, you can hear him whine your name. But, you’re back quick enough, crawling back onto your knees and leaning back to give him a better angle. You use your own slick to lube up the head of the pink vibrator, carefully easing it into you with a bit of a huff from yourself at the tight fit. But, once snugly inside, you crank it up halfway and press the rabbit’s ears just right to frame your clit.
From there, it’s watching each other. With his hand moving in sync to how you thrust the toy inside of you. It didn’t matter if you sped up or slowed down, he was right in beat with you. No matter how hard he shook when you slowed down just to grind on your toy and moan lowly for him.
Eventually you can’t watch him, having to lie down on your back as you thrust the toy into you. Covering your mouth and tossing your head back to muffle noises. You hear him beside you, moaning and whining for you like the good boy he is. You hear him murmur about how beautiful you are, how he couldn’t wait to taste you again.
You cry out as you cum, shaking and the hand covering your mouth now grabbing at your own hair. You must look a mess, despite thrusting the toy still readily into your throbbing, twitching cunt. You can hear his breath quickening, hear him whine, “I want to fuck you s-so bad- badly- want to cum all over your fu- fucki- fucking face-”
He’s a stuttering, shaky mess when you peek over. Just to see his head thrown back and biting into his fist as his cock beautifully jerks and twitches in his grasp. Streaking white ribbons across his abdomen and the bottom of his shirt that reaches up too high. Elliott’s flushed, red in the cheeks and his hand stopping its stroking, loosening his fist as his eyes, glassy and wet turn to look at you.
You smile at him, lying on your side with your cheeks equally flushed. “Just a few more days, baby.” You promise him.
Tiredly, he nods back, laughing softly before groaning. “Ugh, I need a shower- you headed to bed?”
Sleepily, you offer a ‘mmhm’ as your eyes get heavy. Just in time to hear him say that he loves you as the world goes dark.
You’ll deal with your cum soaked toy in the morning.
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
milky way | youngtaek
you find unexplainable comfort in the words of your favorite poet, but he has a deeper connection to you than you think.
genre: fluff, a little angst
word count: 1.4k
author lin
Your favorite part of the day was curling up on the couch with a hot beverage, scrolling through your phone and having the television on low, offering great background noise so the apartment felt less empty. When the clock struck 7pm you knew you would be receiving that notification from the one person on Instagram that you cared enough to keep up with.
They were a poet who went by the name April and they were quite popular on the social media platform, despite never revealing any information about themself save for what deep feelings were incorporated into their poems. You found a great sense of comfort in their work and you were always anticipating to read their poems.
That day, April had revealed a poem titled 'Milky Way'. The post contained a plain white canvas with the words scribbled in black ink on the left side and a relevant drawing on the right - the standard format for all of their works. For this particular poem, the drawing was of a shooting star with a tiny person looking up towards it.
The poem described a relationship between two people that was so dazzlingly perfect that everyone around them was envious of how perfectly they were made for each other. Alas life moved to a point where the narrator could barely contact their lover and they slowly drifted out of each other's lives. The narrator still had lingering feelings for that person and could never truly move on. The final words of the poem read, Nothing without you, nothing without you…
April's poems always hit close to home and prompted you to think about your own life and experiences, but Milky Way in particular felt as though you yourself was the narrator in question. A few years ago you had also been in a relationship that was so full of bliss. The boy was named Youngtaek and you always joked about how he set a standard for any other guy you would ever meet, but it was true.
He was an aspiring songwriter and rapper and often wrote songs about you. He was someone that you could tell anything to and he would never judge. He always showered you with compliments that helped you find confidence in yourself. He encouraged you to try new things and a lot of milestones in your life involved him. Your first kiss, your first time and even your first experience getting chased out of a movie theater because he screamed too loud at the horror movie onscreen.
People who claimed the honeymoon phase didn't last forever clearly did not see the three years the two of you spent together. However, all good things must come to an end. Youngtaek left for Japan to further his studies while you stayed behind. You stayed in good contact for a long time, until you both started to live your own lives with different friends, different timezones, different lifestyles. It was a mutual decision to just end the relationship and move on, but your feelings for him could never disappear that easily.
Since the poem had tapped into an integral part of your mind, you decided to leave a comment. You never did leave comments on April's work - it was quite pointless considering they were so popular and your comment would just disappear into the swarm of others - but you were running on sentimentality at that point.
@______: Thank you for this, I wonder if the lover will ever know the impact they had on the narrator…
You left your phone aside and turned the television volume up to watch whatever game show was going on. Despite your eyes being on the screen, your thoughts were still filled with Youngtaek and the poem. The only thing that was able to snap you out of your own world was a chime from your phone. You grabbed your phone and opened up the notification.
@aprilpoetry: @______ I think they do now…
Your eyes widened at the comment before contorting into a confused frown. First of all, April didn't reply to their fans often so the interaction did catch you by surprise. Second of all, what did they mean by that? The message was so short and vague, but you didn't want to read too much into it. April was notorious for trolling and pranking their followers so you shrugged it off.
Your notifications were flooded with people liking and leaving congratulatory words on your comment. It was so overwhelming that you almost missed a direct message notification you had received. You opened the message up and you couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped your lips upon seeing it was from April.
@aprilpoetry: As you know, I will be releasing my first book this Friday. We'll be having a small party to celebrate and I'm looking to invite some interesting fans to join us. Would you be interested?
@______: Me?
@aprilpoetry: Of course. Your comment piqued my interest.
@______: My comment?
April was typing for a long time and you didn't know why you were becoming nervous. You couldn't even believe this conversation was happening. Your phone pinged and you looked down to see details as to when and where the party was being held.
@aprilpoetry: I hope to see you there
+++++
After days of deliberation, you finally settled on just going to the party. The interaction with April was quite strange and your curiosity really got the better of you. You arrived at the venue - a sleek dining hall decorated in black and white and adorned in pictures of the art that usually featured alongside April's poems.
You floated around the room, taking the drink that a server offered you and inspecting the snack table for anything you might like. Everyone else was already engrossed in their own conversations, presumably about April's poetry. You felt somebody stand next to you, but your eyes stayed fixated on the pink drink in your hands.
"The mini pizzas are really good." The person next to you spoke and you almost shuddered at the familiarity of their voice.
You looked up to see Youngtaek smiling down at you. He was wearing black turtleneck with a black blazer thrown over his shoulders. He looked older and much more mature than from when you last saw him. His hair was dyed bright red and his ears were adorned with pretty piercings. He still had the same sparkly eyes that you had adored so much.
"What are you doing here?" You asked in a small voice and he chuckled lightly.
"It's been a while hasn't it?" Youngtaek ran his fingers through his hair with a sheepish grin on his face, "well actually, we've been closer than we think."
"What do yo-"
"I'm April, ______," he cut you off and your eyes widened comically, making him laugh, "when I saw you comment on my post I couldn't believe it was really you.
"I actually refused to believe it was, so I invited you here to find out," he let out a nervous sigh, "I'm… I'm really glad you're here and you read that poem."
"I've read all of your poems," you admitted and now it was his turn to look surprised, "I've always followed your account and I… really love your work… Milky Way just hit very close to home."
"I missed you, every day," Youngtaek admitted, stepping closer to you, "every time I'd think I moved on from us but then you'd cloud my thoughts all the time, just like what I said in Milky Way."
"I missed you too," you smiled at him when you saw his eyes light up, "I guess it's fate that we found each other again."
Youngtaek grinned at your words before leaning closer and placing his lips on yours. It felt so familiar, the feeling of kissing him while soft music sounded from the speakers, yet butterflies still fluttered in your tummy. His hands came up to cup your face as you gently held onto his wrists. He pulled away just a few centimeters away to admire your flustered face as his cherry lips curled into a smile.
"So are we doing this again?" You laughed lightly.
"Only if you want to ______." Youngtaek grinned, softly running his hands down your arms.
"Of course April Poetry."
#youngtaek#son youngtaek#golden child#golden child imagines#golden child scenarios#golden child fluff#golcha#golcha angst#golcha scenarios#golcha imagines#gncd#gncd imagines#golden child x reader#golcha fluff#golden child youngtaek#golden child tag
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bewitched | Damian Wayne
✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader
✦ word count — 2.8k
✦ request — can I request a older!Damian wayne×reader where they have feelings for each other but are really stubborn and then while they're on a mission the reader almost gets shot and then confess to one another
✦ warnings — light angst, reader and Damian are hostile towards each other until they’re not, poorly channeled feelings, everyone else is tired™︎, mentions of violence, fluff
❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎
Whoever decided you deserved to be punished with Damian Wayne’s presence must’ve hated you. Probably Tim, he had been the one who gave the leadership of the team to Damian. A sweet gesture between brothers that damned your existence.
You supposed he had been happy, Damian had looked pleased with himself, standing tall with an annoyingly smug look in his face as he spoke to his brother mere meters away from you and the team. Thankfully, he ignored you for the first week until he had to give you orders for a mission.
You had been miserable throughout it all, he made you feel so much disgust you felt you would throw up at any given moment. Not even Wally got the reaction you had, it was too visceral — surely no one hated Damian Wayne and his perfect hair more than you.
Your stomach flipped, just as you thought about it he ventured into the room. You glared at him, and he naturally glared back with an intensity that would’ve intimidated anyone who hadn’t heard him complain about petty things. At least he hated you too. With a scoff, Damian fixed his scarf —the green one that only made his eyes pop— and followed the path toward the elevator.
“Ten bucks you chicken out.” Wally’s voice snapped you out of your fixation on the spot Damian had been glaring at you from. Dragging your eyes to the side where the ginger was standing, you tilted your head in confusion.
Gar chortled, “Just ask Robin out and take us out of our misery.”
Unbelievable! They really thought you could ever grow to even tolerate the brat. “I’d rather shoot myself, thank you very much.”
Just because Rachel and Garfield’s relationship worked, it didn’t mean everyone in the team liked each other. And honestly, Gar was either blind or too optimistic to see Damian and you would kill each other if you were left alone in the same room. Wally would’ve probably liked that.
Wally and Gar shared a look. They did that a lot whenever you interacted with Damian — sometimes it wasn’t an interaction what triggered it, you could ask if Robin would stay at The Tower and they would do it; you could say something about how dumb his hood was and they would do it; you could avoid the gym when he was there and they would do it.
Ignoring them, you announced you would go take a walk to shake off the stress Robin gave you.
“You’re acting like a child,” Wally told you, shaking his head.
❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎
Damian was in a horrendous mood. He was being a brat, there was no doubt, but he couldn’t care less.
Titus tried to get his attention, whining and wagging his tail. Damian patted the hound’s head and went back to the book he had been reading. He couldn’t even focus properly, his mind was still reeling out of frustration.
He had come to tolerate Tim a long time ago, Damian now fully saw him as a brother. But Tim seemingly lived to torment him, there was no other explanation as to why he thought it would be a good idea to have him in the same team as you.
He had earned his place as leader, but he didn’t want you around. His gut failed him sparingly, and this time it said he should stay away from you.
Testing you would have been a good idea, perhaps you had mystical powers he wasn’t aware of. That would explain the way his chest tightened when he saw you, you were bewitching him to have a heart attack.
Dropping the book, he patted Titus’ head again before leaving his bedroom. He ran downstairs with an impetuosity he hadn’t felt in months.
Jason’s grunts and the tapping against a keyboard echoed around the Batcave. Damian double checked to make sure no one else was there. Walking directly towards the youngest of his older brothers, he leaned his back against the desk as he stared at Tim.
“Drake, do you have a moment?”
Tim didn’t take his eyes off the screen, “What’s up, Dami?”
He would’ve sneered at the nickname a year ago. Now he ignored it. “Have you tested (L/N)?”
Jason and Tim sighed loudly, tired of hearing him go on and on about you. Everyone in the house avoided Damian whenever he came back from Titan Tower just because of that, it seemed like he was the only one who hadn’t realized what was really going on.
Indulging him, Tim stopped typing and turned to look at his little brother. “Tested her for what?”
“Hidden powers. I believe she is manipulating everyone in the team.”
Tim pursed his lips, humming. It was getting harder and harder not to laugh at Damian’s theories and demeanor. God, if only Dick wasn’t busy! It would’ve been hilarious.
Jason couldn’t help himself, however. Standing from his planking position on the mat, he popped a water bottle open. Bringing it to his lips, he commented, “Maybe it’s time you ask her out.”
“That implies I don’t despise her which is a severely wrong misunderstanding of my character,” Damian stated pridefully.
Leaving the chair to stretch, Tim placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’ll learn to like her.”
“I’d rather stab myself and suffer an agonizing death.”
Jason caught the faltering tone in Damian’s voice but decided to keep it to himself. “You’re being childish, demon spawn.”
He opened his mouth to defend himself but was interrupted by Alfred who announced it was time for them to get ready for patrol.
❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎
Rachel insisted that it wasn’t hatred what you were feeling. Listening to her might have been wise, but it would mean entertaining the idea that you found Damian attractive. You couldn’t, it didn’t sound real.
You had said “he’s just not ugly” and tried to move on, but no one believed you.
It didn’t matter because you believed it to be true. You had faith in what you were thinking and feeling. The only thing you felt towards him was repulsión and it was mutual, he had been clear the week prior.
The team had tried to prevent you two from fighting, keeping you out of his way. Aware of the reason behind their tiptoeing, you stormed out and confronted him.
His words had affected you a little bit, you couldn’t deny that, but that was only because you had been accused of doing things you weren’t capable of.
You said things you had never imagined uttering to another living being. You had never been a hateful person, but Damian made you react aggressively 100% of the time. He hadn’t been different, you had never heard him say such things — not even when he faced Deathstroke.
The yelling got to the point where Dick, Kory, and Tim were summoned by Victor who didn’t have time to put up with more fights. After complaining about how sloppy you were and how better the team would be without you, Damian had stormed out on the four of you.
Dick and Tim had been unfazed, clearly used to the bratty behavior. You excused yourself and went directly to your bedroom. You didn’t see him until the next mission.
He regretted every time he had complained of a narrator using a variation of witnessing something in slow motion. He now understood exactly what the narrators meant, and he was doing so in the worst way possible.
Damian had never regretted many things, not since he started living with his father at least, but now he could think of multiple comments and gestures.
He needed to calm down. You were okay, everything was fine — you were capable of taking care of yourself, he didn’t have to worry. You hadn’t even been harmed, but he couldn’t shake the image of that bullet missing you by millimeters.
What would have he done if you were shot? It would’ve been his fault for not giving you the proper orders, for thinking you would eventually quit being part of the team and free him of the oppression in his chest and the lightheadedness.
Turning the lights of his bedroom off, he closed the door. The other wooden doors were closed too, Garfield usually slept for an entire day after missions so Damian imagined everyone was trying to be as silent as possible.
Well, your bedroom door was ajar. You were finishing folding the laundry you had left undone before the mission. Damian knocked out of politeness. “Busy?”
“I’ll have the mission report ready in an hour,” you told him, not bothering to grant him your attention. The only reason you were giving him explanations was that he was your team leader. “I just need to make a phone call.”
“Boyfriend needs to know where you are?” His tone was harsher than he intended. Damian hated the way you couldn’t even grace him with a glare now.
You folded the pastel yellow t-shirt on your lap carefully. “Sister, actually.”
“Oh? I wasn’t aware that you had siblings.” You hummed. Damian blurted, “Does that mean you don’t have a boyfriend?”
The insistence made you lift your head to stare at him. He could’ve been mocking you and you wouldn’t have been aware. But he wasn’t, his eyes were dancing over your face in expectancy of an answer.
“I don’t.”
“That’s good.”
Planting a foot on the floor, you shrugged. As you split the stacks of clothes to carry them with more ease, you asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?”
God, there were many things; the fact that you had asked was a win on itself. Damian walked into the bedroom, curiously analyzing the bookshelf. He had only been there once, when he was given a tour of the tower — remembering the unnecessarily mean comment he made about the color of the walls, he winced.
The color was fine, but he had hated the way his heart raced when you opened the door and greeted Tim and him. You had been so polite he didn’t recognize you the first time you rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t blame you for disliking him, he just wished it was different, that you were in the same position he was and with the same worries that had caused him many sleepless nights.
He opened your closet to then take a stack of clothes from the bed. He liked the way you arranged them, it reminded him of the way his mother used to.
“Leave that, I can do it.”
Shaking his head, Damian silently picked another stack of clothes and like he had done before, stored it in your closet. “You should rest.”
He was scaring you now. Since when did he care about your wellbeing? And since when weren’t you healthy enough to do chores?
“I’m not tired.”
“You were almost shot at.”
Oh, that. You had assumed no one had been paying attention, you didn’t even blame them for that when the battle had been so intense.
“Well, you were almost stabbed but I’m not saying anything.”
“You technically are.”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
Damian made a pause. “What if I had been stabbed?” You looked up at him, so innocently confused he had to fight the urge of cupping your full cheeks. “What would you have done?”
Such a great question. Rachel’s voice echoed in your mind — she had been right. She was always right, actually, and you didn’t like it in this instance.
“Does it matter?”
“Sadly.”
“I don’t know,” you confessed. “What I said last week… I didn’t mean it.”
“I know.”
“How come?”
“I didn’t mean anything of what I said either.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Avoiding your eyes, he continued, “I wish— no, that would be a lie too… this isn’t how these things are supposed to go.”
Unsure as to what to say, you decided to remain silent. Only he knew what he wanted to express.
“I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
You were more baffled now. “Is there a but?”
“No. I’m afraid there are things I do actually want you to do, though.”
“The report?”
He giggled. Damian Wayne giggled because of something you said. You had never heard a sound that compared with it, there was no point in trying to find something as adorable as a brooding giant giggling because of your perplexed questions.
That was until he said, “I want you to like me. I want you to trust me like you trust West and to talk to me… I want you to tell me about your life, all the things you like and hate.” He let out a scoff, “I know it’s asking too much, but I want you to…”
It shouldn’t have taken him being about to watch you get hurt to realize it. Then again, he wasn’t an expert in emotions. Damian dominated languages, he could talk his way out of almost any situation, he was an expert in many sciences, but emotions had never been his forte.
Emotions were weaknesses where he came from. He wasn’t the child scared of his mother catching him crying out of pain due to a broken arm anymore, but that child still lived inside him. Said child had morphed into a young adult scared of his own self catching him falling in love with the person he least expected.
His fear had come true, and running away from it wouldn’t only be useless but stupid.
Playing with his fingers, he stated, “I want you. That’s it.”
“Me too.” You put your hand on top of both of his.
Damian stared down at your hand for a moment, then turned to look at you. He needed you to be sure of what you were saying, he wouldn’t hold it against you if you couldn’t see past his awful behavior toward you.
You squeezed his fingers. “I mean it.”
Twisting his hand, he pressed his palm on yours. Wiggling his fingers as he intertwined them with yours, thumb brushing the back of your hand, he asked, “Is that okay?”
“More than okay,” you assured, making him grin.
You felt your stomach twist at his gesture. This time you didn’t find the sensation uncomfortable — on the contrary, it was a relief to finally understand it had never meant disgust. Your pride hated it, your mental health was thankful.
Your head drifted closer to his shoulder. The soft material of his sweatshirt invited you to rest it there, and Damian was delighted when you finally did it. He stayed still for a lingering moment, questioning whether he should do it or not — eventually he caved in and kissed the top of your head.
Craning your neck to look at him, now with your cheek pressed on his shoulder, you smiled at him. His eyes lit up as he smiled back, green orbs deviating to your lips.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Kissing you,” he answered truthfully.
Breathing out a small laugh, you said, “do it, then.”
He slowly dropped his lips onto yours, brushing them tentatively at first. You slid your hand off his as you kissed him back, placing it on his other shoulder as you lifted your head without breaking the kiss.
Damian’s arm wrapped around your plump waist, holding your face with his free hand while deepening the kiss. Trailing your hand up to his neck, your thumb traced his jaw while your lips sucked on his bottom lip.
“I still have to call my sister,” you reminded him as he pulled you closer.
Humming, Damian tightened his arm around you to bring you flush against him so you would straddle his lap. “I’m not stopping you, angel. I’m sure you can multitask.”
And so you called home, with an arm around Damian’s neck as your fingers played with his hair and he buried his face in your neck.
The next morning the kitchen was almost empty when you were ready for the day, only Rachel was there already which was how it usually went.
Eventually, the kitchen and therefore the dining room filled. The only one missing was Garfield, but you were used to that after missions. The chatter progressed as it did on a daily basis — Rachel mostly kept to herself unless she had something to say, Victor told Wally to stop talking with his mouth full of food, and Wally disobeyed Victor.
“Good morning.” Damian greeted the team, walking toward the cupboard to retrieve a mug.
Your teammates mumbled greetings. The clattering of silverware against ceramic got louder as they hurried their meal in case Damian and you decided it was a good time to fight.
A warm hand was placed on your hip. You carefully turned around, placing a hot mug in his free hand. “Green with a teaspoon of brown sugar.”
He kissed your forehead, lips still caressing your temple as he spoke, “thank you, beloved.”
Wally’s shocked screech woke Garfield up from his deep slumber two floors up.
#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x plus size reader#plus size reader#plus size fanfiction#robin x reader#robin x plus size reader#damian wayne#robin#dc x reader#dc x plus size reader#batfam x reader#batfam x plus size reader
370 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yeah, This Happened
IMAGINE: In this alternate universe, Avengers tower gains another superhero resident. Your first interaction with the teen arachnid doesn’t go great, but as time goes on, you find that he’s growing on you. An idea your dad doesn’t exactly agree with.
WORD COUNT: 2.7k
WARNINGS: Over protective Tony
"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you to come down here?" You heard your father ask. Rolling your eyes, you make emerge from the kitchen.
"Mr. Stark, Miss Y/N has been on this level for quite some time now," JARVIS commented.
"Yeah dad," you add, pretending to pout. "You didn't see me come out ten minutes ago?"
You see your father grow red before shaking his head. "Shut up Y/N," he chuckled. Getting over his embarrassment, he pulled you into a side hug. "I wanted you to be the first to know-"
"Know what?" You quickly interrupt.
You had gained lots of Tony Stark's traits. Impatience was one of them.
"If you'll be quiet, I'll tell you," your dad continued, leading you to the window. Reaching the glass, he carried on. "We're going to have a special guest over."
A snort escapes you.
"More special than a 96-year-old super soldier. Or more special than a Norse god who likes pop tarts?"
Tony gently smacks the back of your head. "No, but he's just like us. Special." You groan, pushing him off of you.
Another guy? This was just getting stupid.
After Pepper left, it was just you, Natasha and Wanda around the Avengers Tower. Males around here had you at an advantage. Another dude was just going to ruin that.
"If he can keep out of my room, then I'll be okay."
A blur of red and blue shoots down from the ceiling. A gasp leaves your lips as a slim figure shoots out a thick rope-like cord. As it attaches from the hangars, the colored form made sure it was stable before quickly flipping upside down.
"What are you hiding in your room? Drugs? Alcohol? Secret Candy stash?" It asked curiously, it's tone full of playfulness.
As the cable gently swung the red and blue figure closer, you prepared to smack it in the face. Somehow sensing this, the masked thing caught your fist mid swing.
"You're a feisty one," it commented, laughing at your behavior.
As you go to cuss him out, Tony claps his hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing it as a warning. "Get down, Peter."
'Peter', hearing his name, groaned but complied to the demand. Flipping backward, he landed perfectly on both feet.
"Is that even legal, Mr. Stark?" He asked, crossing his arms. "You can't just reveal my secret identity! That's against the rules!"
"Hey stupid," you responded, interrupting your father. "I know more heroes than you'll ever meet. I'm sure you won't change that."
"Knock it off," Tony commanded, hiding his smirk. No matter how stern he tried to be, his 'cool dad' persona always won the best of him.
"Y/N won't tell anyone. But that's not what you should be worried about." Looking up, "Those webs better be gone next time I'm in this room. I didn't pay good money to have spider-butt silk hanging from my ceiling."
As he goes on to say more, his trusty phone rang. Exasperated, Tony picks it up.
"Great," he sighs. "Steve says he might have found Bruce." Glancing between you and Bug-Boy, he groans. "Y/N, do me a favor and show Peter around the Tower. I'll be back soon."
To clarify that was that, the billionaire walked out. Rolling your eyes, you turn to your guest. Noticing that he was covered head to toe, you cross your arms. "You can change. It would be a little weird of you to wear your suit 24/7,"
"But my identity..." Peter trailed off. It was obvious he was new at this superhero thing.
"You'll be fine. It's not like Iron Man is going to spill the beans... Again."
Offering more encouraging words, you finally convince him enough to remove the mask.
When the fabric is removed, you're surprised. Peter looked... Gentle. He seemed innocent. He couldn't have been much older than you, and you were only sixteen.
Was this guy a real superhero?
Blinking rapidly, you smile weakly. "Just follow me," you tell him, gesturing with your hands. "I'll show you your room."
"Sounds good," Peter replies, giving you a toothy grin. As he walks your way, something hits him. I mean really hits him.
You can't help but laugh as Peter peels off a duffel bag from his face. "I almost forgot about that," he stated, laughing as he did. "But then it hit me."
Shaking your head at his pun, you wave him over. "Let's go."
As you lead him to his assigned room, he can't help but strike up a conversation. "I never got your name," Peter noted, shouldering his bag. He looks away for a second to tuck away his mask, but quickly averts his attention to you.
"It's Y/N," you reply, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "So, your name... Is it just Peter or are you too cool for that?"
"Parker. It's Parker." He states proudly. "What about you? It can't just be Y/N, no matter how pretty of a name it is."
Pretty? He thought your name was pretty?
A blush covers your cheek as you approach Peter's door. "It's Stark." The teen freezes as he stares at you.
Great, now he was going to think you were just another snobby little rich kid.
He eyes you up and down before cocking his head. "But... You look so different from Mr. Stark. He's... Well, him. And you're just... Really pretty." Your blush worsens as you look down.
"He's not my biological dad," you explain quietly. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “He adopted me a few months after I was born. I took his name and that was that."
It's quiet.
"I think that was really cool of him," you hear Peter comment. Looking up, you see the teen looking at you with a knowing look. "I know how it feels. Being raised by people who aren't your actual parents. But sometimes, it's all for the best."
Softly smiling, you nod. "I couldn't have said it better." The two of you smile at each other before you remember what you were supposed to be doing.
"This is your room," you abruptly state, shaking your head. Carefully opening the door, you motion to him to walk in. Once he does, you follow suit.
"You've got a standard double bed," you point out. "Over there, you have a closet. There's a compartment where you can store your suit." As Peter looks, you open another door.
"This is your personal bathroom. It's your job to keep it in clean. The shower is seven feet by ten, so it’s comfortable. The toilet is... Well, it's a toilet."
Explaining a few more things, you find nothing to talk about. "I guess that's it," you admit. The window catches your eye and you jump up.
"How could I forget about the view!" You exclaim, rushing to the glass. Peter quickly drops his bag before walking over. Pushing away the bland curtains, you show him the scenery.
"This is one of the best rooms. You always have a perfect view of the sunset and the moon looks so bright. You'll love it."
You don't see Peter looking at you. You're oblivious to the way he stares.
"I already do," he whispered.
A few minutes later, you go to leave. Peter had been at your heels until you stop him. "Aren't you going to change?" You ask him curiously. The guy was still in his suit.
"Oh!" He cried, looking down at his attire. "Almost forgot. I'll be out soon."
As he turns around, you quickly catch his attention. "I have to ask," you admit, "but what are you supposed to be? Bug-Boy?"
Peter turns around and grins.
"I call myself Spider-Man."
-
You and Peter got along well. Maybe it was the age similarity? Or your mutual love for comic books? Whatever it was, you were glad for it.
"Did you grab the popcorn?" Peter shouted at you. Clutching the bowl of popped corn, you hurry to the large living room.
How could I forget action flicks?
A couple weeks after Peter had settled in, he suggested having a movie night. You quickly agreed and assigned a random night. Saturday was quickly renamed 'Movie Day'.
Peter quickly grabbed the remote, using his special webbing as you prepared to sit down. "You almost crushed the remote," he complained, holding it close to him.
"I'm going to crush you if you don't stop with the damn webbing," you told him. "You never get all of it and it leaves a nasty mess. It's weird to touch it."
"It's a part of me Y/N," Peter complained. "You can't diss it."
Rolling your eyes, you lean into the couch. Tossing a few popped kernels in your mouth, you laugh. "I should be glad it doesn't come out of your butt. 'Cause that would be a horror movie right there."
Peter laughs as he grabs a handful of popcorn and throws it at your face. He can't help but make a face.
"You love me," Peter chuckled.
Hiding your rosy cheeks, you snort. "Sad thing is, I'd love you even if you shot spider silk out of your butthole."
Amused by your comment, Peter pulled you in closer. "JARVIS, can you dim the lights?" He asked politely.
"With pleasure, sir," the A1 replied, following the command.
Taking the remote from the undercover superhero, you quickly put on the movie. Tonight, it was an action/comedy. One of your favorites, actually.
"We're watching (Favorite Movie)?" You ask Peter. He knew how much you loved it.
"I think it's a good movie," He blubed, thankful that the lights were low. Now you couldn't see his tomato-like face.
Taking his word, the two of you watch the movie in content. After the credits roll up, you yawn.
"That was a great movie," you tell Peter. You found it interesting he never let you go throughout the film.
"It was," he agreed, staring at you. This time, you were aware of his burning stare.
"What are you looking at dork?" You ask him. His dark brown eyes never left your E/C ones as he leaned forward.
"You."
Your breaths mingle as you too lean forward. Just as you're about to meet, the lights suddenly turn on.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Tony demanded.
One hand hovered over the light switch while the other reached into his pocket. He pulled it out to reveal a gauntlet he had been tinkering with. Letting it pulsate, he motioned for the two of you to separate. Both you and Peter are hesitant, but do so, anyway.
Sliding his sunglasses to the bottom of his nose, your father turned to Peter.
"So Parker," Tony said calmly. His glove crackled as he flexed his fingers. "What were you planning on doing?" As the teen stutters, your dad raised his hand, silencing him. "'Cause it looked like you were just about to swap saliva with my kid. Care to explain?"
"It was my fault dad!" You quickly blurt. "I was encouraging him and-"
"Y/N," your father interrupted. "Don't you dare try to defend him. I know how guys think; I AM A GUY!" His face becomes a dark purple as he continues to scream.
"DO YOU REALLY THINK I AM GOING TO FALL FOR THE CLASSIC IT WASN'T HIS FAULT?!"
Taking a deep breath, Tony seemed to calm down.
"What do you intend on doing with my child, Parker?" He asked slowly, letting the repulsor's light glitch.
You knew what he was trying to do. You've seen your father do the same imitation technique on other people before. He'd bring out a piece of the suit, show off its abilities and use it to intimidate his guests. With his glove, he would scare Peter by threatening to use it on him.
"D-Date them, sir..." Peter mumbled, keeping his eyes locked with Tony's. He ignored your shocked gasp as he locked his jaw.
"And what would you do if you dated them?" Your father asked, rolling his wrist.
"Make sure they were happy, sir," the teen replied. "I'd do anything to keep them happy."
"And what would that include?" Tony questioned further. "Please enlighten me on that." You watch him raise a dark brow.
Peter finally tears his eyes away from your dad and swallowing harshly. Deciding, he looks at him once more.
"If Y/N would take me, and found that they were unhappy, I would strip myself of Spider-Man and devote my time to them. If they found themselves no longer interested in me, I would leave, no matter how much it broke my heart."
If looks could kill, Peter would be six feet under.
"I don't believe you. No one in their right mind would give up something as great as power as this."
You saw the teen clench his jaw as he looked towards your dad. You could almost see the pain emitting from him as he replied.
"A good, no- Amazing man once told me that with great power comes great responsibility. Power means nothing to me if I am not worthy of it."
You see Tony's harsh gaze soften as he continues to scrutinize Peter. Rolling his eyes, he lowered his hand. "Fine, I'll allow this," he grumbled.
As he walks away, your father looks back once more. "Hey Pete," he called. "You mess up, and I'll tell your Aunt May what you really do in your free time."
When your father leaves, for good this time, you turn to Peter. "That was really... Stupid," you admit, leaning towards him again. "But, I'm glad you did that."
"I am stupid," the brunette replied, also leaning in. "But I'd fight for anything that I know is right."
"Oh? So I'm the right choice?" You ask coyly.
"I don't know. Why don't you show me?" The two of you are so close. Just a little more.
Something whistles over your heads, causing the two of you to look up. An Iron Man helmet hovers in the air, its eyes glowing fiercely.
"Dad," you whine.
"Hey, I said I'd allow the two of you staying in the same room together. I didn't permit any kissing." The helmet shook again as it leaned closer. "This is the only way I can watch you two without invading your privacy is this. SO SUCK IT UP!"
This dad was no longer laid-back; he had to fight off guys with a metal bat. A bat that was wielded by him in his suit.
"Can we at least cuddle, sir?" Peter asked.
The left 'eye' of the mask flickered uncontrollably as it zooms over to Peter's face. "Just cuddling?" Tony demanded.
If he were here in person, spit would be flying.
"Yes, sir. No inappropriate touching. Just talking and hugging."
"Is that even okay?" You heard your father whisper. He must have thought he had turned off his microphone. "Why didn't I pick up that parenting book when Y/N was a kid? This would be so much easier..."
Hearing him fight with himself more, your father finally cleared his throat. "I'll permit that too."
Happy, you and Peter sit closer. Grabbing a spare blanket, the teen generously covers you before taking you in his arms. Feeling comfortable, you relax into his hold until a certain noise catches your attention.
Looking over, you see the mask only a few inches away from your face. What really surprises you is the extra ten staring down Peter.
"That's a little too much, don't you think?" You tell one mask.
"You can never be too careful," Tony replied, his voice multiplied by the speakers.
#Peter Parker x Reader#Peter Parker Imagine#Spider-Man x reader#Spider-Man Imagine#Spiderman x reader#Spiderman Imagine#Tom Holland x Reader#Tom Holland Imagine#Marvel Imagine#Avengers Imagine#Fanfiction#Marvel Fic#Spider-Man Homecoming#Spiderman Homecoming#Spider-Man Far From Home#Spiderman Far From Home
204 notes
·
View notes
Text
let’s go out with a bang
Thank you for being on my side
Hey y'all! So I wasn't planning on writing out anything too much today since ive been going through it recently but we can all agree that 2020 SUCKS. It is the equivalent of a dumpster on fire but we made it.
Thank you to my community!
@agustdiv1ne : My irl best friend! my ultimate life partner! this year hit us both super hard in different ways but no matter what, we were and are always there for each other with whatever we're going through. My love for you has only skyrocketed and grown so much this year that I cant even put it into words anymore, I can only really explain it in my expressions of love for you. This year has been a hard one and especially the past few months but you've been there for me the whole way through and I cant ever thank you enough for that when you didn't have to, you genuinely chose to help walk me through this and that right there means more to me than you will ever know. I just hope I can be allowed one day to send as much love and support to you as you've done to me since middle school. Ive loved to see your character development through all of this year and to be able to see you grow as a person has been a huge blessing and I cant wait to see you grow through all phases of life, hopefully still by your side. I know its only gonna go up from here no matter if were states apart soon with college, just know that you can call me anytime and ill move mountains for you ash. I love you eternally and I cant thank you enough for all you've been for me this year. you and I do or die!
@hopejanaee : HOBI!!! my irl mom friend and (practically) bigger sister!! We've been friends since elementary school and im so extremely grateful that we reconnected this year and grew a stronger friendship together. I love you so so so much and I want to thank you for getting me and @agustdiv1ne onto Tumblr because its changed us for the better and allowed us to be extremely creative. I love reading your works and seeing you grow as a writer and to see your crazy mind at work. Im so thankful for all of the time we get to spend together and all the times spent with genuine laughter from your spirit. Thank you for helping to get me into Kpop this year! I didnt know what I was missing and holy damn its been quite the ride ever since. Thank you for being such a great older sister, accountability partner for my faith, and just a great friend. Your kindness inspires me to be a better person and I cant wait to see where it takes you in life. I love you dearly Hobi!!
@hongjoong-a-holic : Lil Lion! oh my goodness we've only interacted since November?? Its felt like a lot longer and i’ve loved all of it. But you never fail to put a smile on my face whenever I message you about anything and everything. Thank you for all the countless hug wars and kisses that I cant win, they mean so much to me. This is only the beginning of a beautiful friendship and i’m looking forward to seeing where it takes us in the next year. I love you so much and I hope the best year for you!!
@treasure-hwa : My Tumblr mom!!! I remember seeing you tag me in things and feeling so loved. You've helped me to become more involved in talking more with people and not being afraid to show love on this platform and interacting more up front so thank you. I also want to thank you for allowing me to talk about how ive been feeling with you and the warm space you provide in our messages.
@illicit-roses : Thank you so much for reaching out after I found your writing one day and started liking a bunch of your posts!! we've talked so much since then and im still amazed at how fast we clicked, it feels like we've known each for much longer. I love chatting with you and I cant wait to talk to you again soon. ps im still amazed that you glanced at melting point and wanted to come back to read it, knowing that makes my day sometimes.
Thank you to My Mutuals and Followers!
I may not talk to you guys or have only done it about once or twice but I would love to get to know you so my inbox is always open!!
@smileysuh @galaxteez @masterninjacow @ateezinmymind @honeybeedaydreams @shinyddeonghwa @hwastreasure @jamaiswoo @simphwa @daisyteez @minervaaaaaaaa
Happy New Year Everyone!! And If you’ve made it to this point, Im super proud of you for making it through this year. I love all of you to death, thank you for keeping me going. Sincerely yours <3
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
(I made a fanfic!!! It's also up on whattpad and is far better.)
Saved from damnation chapter 1. (a La squadra x reader fanfic. Any errors shall be duely noted and hopefully corrected!)
Risotto had told you not to leave. That was what you were going to do. He asked that you stay safe because he wanted at least a fraction of the old team to be able to move on. He said that to you before he left to go and fight the boss so you stayed in the hideout waiting on that string of hope that maybe one of them would return.
You laid down on the sofa. Quietly refreshing the message page, waiting for one of them to say something, anything. Just to prove to you that they might just come back. This place was normally humming with Fromaggio’s silly little jokes and Illusio’s snarky comebacks. It felt like a ghost town. You placed the laptop on the coffee table opposite you.
You let out a deep sigh as you snuggled into one of Illu’s spare jacket that you were using as a blanket, pulling it tighter around your shoulders. You really miss them. As you hug the stuffed fish you borrowed off of Pecsi to use as a cushion. You were going to have to apologise for borrowing their stuff without their permission. You had borrowed one thing off of everybody. You were wearing one of Risotto’s hats, he had actually gotten you one of your own but it was just nicer to feel like he was there. You had figured out that Prosci had copies of his necklace clearly just in case his current one got damaged was your best guess. You also borrowed Melone’s laptop to check up on updates on the board the guys where using. The leftover ice cream Giha had made was gone you loved it as always. You had you had a football game on quietly in the background because it reminded you of Froma. You slowly let your eyes close as you fell asleep feeling safe, warm, and like they were all there.
You missed all of them so much.
It was a massive blow when Sorbet and Gelato died, they were the first ones to openly care about you or call you a friend and over the years you knew the pair of them you had never had a bad experience with either. They were the kind, gay uncles you would never replace for the world. One time they were all going to go out on the town for the evening as was very normal for them on weekends because they work stressful jobs that are break-neck not only metaphorically but also quite literally. They live every moment to the fullest as they should. However, at the time you were still only 13 and that meant you had to stay back at home and you insisted that it would be fine. But Sor and Lat decided that they didn’t feel like going out that night. They stayed behind to take care of you. It was a fun evening full of studio Ghibli movies and junk food. Needless to say, these where more of common occurrence between the three of you that started to drag the rest of them in until it was a tradition they all did together, almost as a family. They haven’t done them since.
Not much time had really passed before Fromaggio died. This hit hard as well because he was like your brother. His puns where always the funniest shit to you, especially thinking back to them at 2 am. You absolutely loved watching him get passionate about football because he would talk on and on and you’d listen to all of it. It was fascinating to you in a way it never was before. It made you wonder what had changed in the weeks you’d known him at that point. Maybe it was because you became more open in general. No threat of violence against you was ever actually followed through on and you felt the safest you’d ever felt. It was lovely. You also love to hang out with his cats. They were always so pleasant critters to be around and you often asked to just play with his cats with him. Hoe told you that it was unusual to him. They were always happy around you which he couldn’t say was true for him, because they would scratch and yell when he’s trying to hug them. He said that you, “Have the gift. You can pet the fuzzy babies without them trying to claw your eyes out.”
Then Illusio disappeared. You two weren’t as close but there was still a mutual enjoyment of each-others presence. He seemed to really enjoy doing your hair which was good because you really liked being the test subject for his hairstyle ideas. Seeing new things done with your hair gave you a feeling of warm contentment. Listening to him spreading rumours about his friends, never serious and always rather funny, another highlight was. He could, and would, roast absolutely anyone and everyone. He wasn’t quiet when he disapproved of something, and you’d hear about that too.
Then Pros’ and Pecsi’s remains were found…
Pros’ death hit like a train. It was an odd coincidence because of what you were told about his final moments. You felt like you were being slowly torn apart by the news of your friend’s, no, family’s deaths. Each man fallen left a deep wound on you. By the end of the long week, you had no more tears left as you sat on your bed staring blankly at the faded world around you. You saw him as like your second dad. He may have been snarky and harsh, but it never got to the point where it wasn’t legit criticism. He seemed to know all the best words to keep you going. Pushing the limits of your abilities, to run that extra minute, to do those extra reps. You were driven to near-breaking, but never over. There was always an end, and with him helping you, it became easier to use and control the abilities you seemed to have gained. He called a part of your Stand which Riso had recently explained to you was a manifestation of your spirit and subconscious. Every week you trained the abilities became refined, it eventually got to the point that she occasionally showed herself.
Pecsi was like your older younger brother. His confidence issues had him constantly stumbling over basic interactions that you tried to help to varying degrees of success. You were also very affectionate because it made him become a blushing mess and you found it to be quite funny. He got used to it eventually and it became just another odd thing that you just, did. When you were watching a movie that was even a little scary you two clung to each-other, shaking like leaves. This led to most of the group joking about you two being a thing, earning them a very flustered Pineapple, and scowls that could have murdered from you. The number of times you had to be pulled off the lad because you where petrified by the movie, was higher than the number of times Pecsi had doubted himself. On those nights he insisted on sleeping in your room, because the pair of you were normally too afraid of being on your own. It got so common that you actually asked if you could get a convertible sofa in your room, so he didn’t have to sleep on the floor. It wasn’t too great of an expense so your request was granted. Having him near gave you a certain solace. He was big and he was also rather strong, but he was such a huge teddy bear that he was about as threatening as a kitten. It was comforting, you felt safe.
When Melone and Gihaggio were sent on the suicide mission to go and kidnap Trish. you had tried to beg for the both of them to not go. Both responded that they didn’t have a choice and they had to at least try. Safe to say neither of them came back…
Melo was your favourite teacher because he was funny and always willing to help with anything he could. That ranged from helping you learn more complex Italian that you otherwise wouldn’t have ever gotten, to homework that was otherwise neglected. He also seemed to absolutely adore helping you with the schoolwork that was sent to you, well a post office near you, from a long distance schooling initiative that was set up to help kids like you. Those who couldn’t go to a real school for their own safety. His patience was saintly, and his enthusiasm, seemingly boundless. He never got angry at you for not understanding straight away, and was willing to re-explain everything to you. He also seemed so much happier every second he was with you. You felt appreciated.
Gihaggio was never your favourite person. That was because he was only ever in a bad mood. He was told to help with your education when Melo wasn’t there, this led to quite the tally of near scares. His lashing out was a terror to you, because your father and sister would get like that. When he saw you flinch at his raised fist and yelling, he would redirect and be forced to apologise later by one of the others. It very rarely got to blind rage, and never escalated to violence against you. This was simply due to him knowing that it would be a death sentence from how protective Melone was over her. When forced to apologise he tended to make ice-cream because he: “Has a hard time using his words” as Melone put it.
As Risotto walked out of the door, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being abandoned. He was the last real member of your family that you had, and he was walking out into a guaranteed death. There was nothing you could do. He was the one who found you; it took a few days to trust him at all. It was a delicate process that took at least four days for you to accept food directly given from him, he had to put it on a tray and step back a few steps. He spoke some pretty all right English so you and him would have fairly regular chats. When you were finally allowed out of the room he helped with translation.
They were your family at the end of the day.
“They would come back eventually. Then we’d all go grab some ice-cream to apologise for leaving me alone for so long.” You muttered to yourself before dozing quietly off.
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spicy take time (costarring Sugar): The Bros rated by how well I think their arcs/character development/relationship with MC was written and how much it makes sense. (Disclaimer: Our affection for these characters and how interesting, compelling, and lovable we find them has ZERO bearing on this list. ALSO, beware, here there be salt, IE, this is critical of the writing. It’s also long as fuck, so if you just wanna skim and read the bold parts, that’s okay too. You are also free to disagree with us as this is just an opinion, and keep in mind that we have only read to chapter 24 so if there are elements of the story we are unaware of... please be understanding of that and don’t spoil it.) Let’s get started, shall we?
1) Starting at the top is BEST BOI IMO: Beelzebub. So, yeah, in terms of character development and growth, he really doesn’t change all that much, aside from starting off not trusting MC to slowly opening up to them about his trauma. But putting that to the side, his relationship with them makes the most sense. After sharing a bedroom and helping him open up, as well as having the mutual goal of protecting Luke, and then even later going on to save his beloved little brother, it follows that he absolutely adores you afterward. Also, he doesn’t start off disliking you like some of the others. So, all around, he makes the most sense. He’s also one of the deeper characters with his backstory, even if I wish they’d give him other flaws than just being hongry (and playing his unhealthy eating habits/coping mechanism as a joke. Disordered eating should be taken more seriously, especially binge eating but that’s a can of worms for another day)
2) Second best is probably going to shock you, but Satan takes this spot. Why? Well, strictly in terms of arc progression, his relationship with MC starting out as one of manipulation and growing into something more genuine when they go on a heartwarming and wacky adventure together with his hated older brother which causes him to open up makes a lot of sense, at least more so than some of the others. While I wish they gave him more meat characterization wise, I think his arc was pretty well done in terms of story structure.
Okay, so, Sugar here. While I agree with Spice that Satan could use some more meat (and that we should be able to have some more information on Baby Satan because we all need that in our lives), I think that the progression of him and LUCI’S bond (not MC’s) could have done with more subtlety. While I appreciate him softening up, and see that progress, we don’t really get to see the tension of the newfound change and how he settles into letting things go/mellow out and I get it-- it’s a dating sim and the secondary relationships are well, secondary, but it would be interesting to see him and MC bond more through time.
3) Third place probably won’t be all that shocking, because this is where I’m placing Lucifer. He’s arguably one of the characters in the series who’s gotten the most love from the writers, having the most screentime, the most affectionate scenes with MC, and the most fleshed out backstory and characterization as well as fleshed out relationships with each of the characters. His relationship progression with MC also takes a nice, even pace, with him slowly learning to trust them and respect them, culminating in an almost-confession (I THINK. Unless I’m reading that part wrong) and then being shattered at MC’s betrayal, and then earned back in true Pixar-movie fashion by them teaming up for a common goal. HOWEVER. And this is a big however. I would love to see his unhealthy tendencies addressed and NOT fetishized. (Don’t come at me with that “BUT THEY’RE DEMONS THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO BE EVILLLLL” dude. If a demon being in a healthy relationship is where you draw the line in terms of believability, then why are you playing a fantasy demon dating sim anyway?) I love him, I stan him, I simp for him, but I wish he had at least apologized for his not-subtle threats of physical violence toward MC rather than jumping straight into the ALSO kinda violent “You’re mine and nobody else’s” gimmick.
Unlike some men (SPICE), I am actually not a Luci stan and while I do have a soft spot, and understanding of his place as an eldest sibling... I would also like to see the writer’s unravel the unhealthiness/coping Lucifer has in place and why/how it came to be. I feel like we get a sense that Luci has thawed since coming to the Devildom but we don’t really see how Lucifer in the Celestial Realm (and how his friendship with Simeon) has progressed. Luci has a lot of love from the writers but from a story stand-point, he is never really allowed to be weak and own up to his own flaws and how that has impacted/hurt MC.
4) Sharing fourth place is Leviathan and Mammon! I’m putting them in the same spot because the issues I have with them are the same, though I plan on addressing their good points individually. But since my beef is simpler, I’m going to start off with the bad. IMO, a good rivals to friends to lovers romance happens in STEPS. You start off from not getting along, to then finding some things in common, and gradually coming to respect each other, and then like each other, and finally love each other. This... doesn’t really happen with these two, and while we see the change from both tsundere boys starting off disliking you and eventually coming to love you, we don’t really get that inbetween that makes the payoff so much worth it. And if those inbetweens are there, the story doesn’t really tell us that, and it doesn’t show us their thought processes. Like, how much would it suck if in pokemon, your charmander evolved immediately into Charizard upon beating your first few gyms? It’s like that.
But as for the good, Levi’s arc makes sense because you’re the first person to really let him be himself and not shame him for the things he loves. You let him ramble about his interests and show interest in them yourself (AT LEAST IF YOU’RE NOT A FUCKING MONSTER. I’ll let Sugar talk more on him, that’s their boy.)
Whoo, boy. Here we go! For whatever reason, the otaku became my favorite and I love him, but as far as arcs go... He could have gotten a bit more screentime and progress. It makes sense that he would become attached to MC as his brothers are very, very... critical and patronizing about his interests. He is also by far the most skittish and introverted of the bunch, coupled with his sin and seeing all the ways he falls short (in his eyes) is a recipe for loneliness and desire for companionship/friendship. While I am not happy with the progression, for me, it makes sense and I would also have loved to see some breaking/softening of how much his Sin influences him when it comes to MC. I’m not saying erase it because demons are meant to give in to temptation but some reassurance and acceptance of that would be good.
(I also know that there is some disk horse about him guilt-tripping you about spending time with his brothers and while I agree it can be hard... It definitely isn’t on a painful level. Like, say... Ray’s in Jihyun’s route in Mystic Messenger. This also is a difference for players who are interested in one love route versus the many route and different strokes, but I digress.)
As far as Mammon goes, well, you’re his first. And he’s not only glad that there’s someone who’s kind to him instead of making fun of him, but also takes pride in having someone to protect. His puppy crush going to full blown love is adorable.
This blog is all about spicy takes, yeah? Well, here’s mine (Sugar): Mammon is lovable but not as lovable as he could be and before all the Mammon stans, come for me- let it be known I like Mammon but his introduction and how he comes to be soft is NOT an easy, or believable transition. There are ways to write a good tsundere and the writers just missed the mark by having Mammon be too callous and then slipping to lovable without that sweet slide into the other end. I will not deny he is very cute, and a good character, and a good brother (and also the most human, according to Satan’s home screen interaction) but... The progression and endearment factor is lacking because of the structure of the narrative.
5) Is another unsurprising one, but this spot is Belphegor’s. Solmare. My dude. Why did you do this. We could have had it ALL. It could have been great. But you screwed the pooch. You took anything good about this relationship out behind the shed and shot it like a lame horse. Let it be known that I LIKED Belphie and MC’s alliance to get him out of gay baby jail, and I adored that love he still holds for Beel... I thought he was going to be a fav of mine, in fact. But how they handled the... uhm... murder ruined it for me. I’m sorry, I just cannot believe that I’m supposed to suddenly be besties with the man who manipulated me and crushed me to death like, a week after it happened. What if I have PTSD from that??? Also... he claims that he loves MC for who they are and not because of Lilith, but that’s not believable when his whole turning point is finding out that they’re Lilith’s descendant. The change needed to be more gradual, and having a subtle, gradual forgiveness arc would have been AWESOME but we were robbed. ROBBED I TELL YOU!!!!!
Annnd... Belphie is actually one of my favorites FOR SOME REASON. I DON’T KNOW MAN. I agree that we could have had it and I’m like (Insert Hades red flaming hair gif here). The decision to not have a redemption arc ruined it for me and while I love Belphie and his softness/brattiness mixture with handling MC... It is underscored by a lack of believable affection and the payoff of struggle on both Belphie’s part and MC’s. Also, there is a lot of ‘You are not who I want you to be, but it’s good enough’ with MC regarding their lineage and connections to the brothers and how that plays out/color the relationships with maybe the exception of Satan and surprisingly, Mammon that irks me but again, another thought for another time.
6) Aaaaand last and also the least... Asmodeus. “YOU GET NOTHING!!! YOU LOSE! GOOD DAY SIR.” --Solmare to Asmo. The writers neglected him SO much, I like him but what the hell are they doing? There’s so much that could be explored here, and with anything involving Asmo they’re like “I do not see it”. His love for MC also isn’t really that believable when his turning point is realizing that they’re powerful. It doesn’t even fit with any of his potential conflicts. The Diavolo’s castle arc set us up to think that Asmo would have some deep seated insecurities with not being able to be loved or desired by everyone, or maybe some insecurities about not being an angel anymore, or some vulnerability issues or something, and they were just like NOPE. It doesn’t make any gotdamn sense! I just... Grrr. Asmo, I’m so sorry, sweetie. You deserve better.
Asmodeus definitely deserves better and I will stand by that until the day I stop playing this damn game. While I, personally, think that his intrigue with MC makes sense (because he is lusty-- probably not just for sex but in general), it makes sense he would want someone with power but while the set up is there, his character falls flat because there is no bonding moment, or turning point for him at all. His affection for MC is still that playful, carefree, flirty persona he carries and I would love to see it dropped and how his fall from the Celestial Realm really weighs on him and an arc where he and MC talk about vulnerability and the power behind being seen as someone attractive and the way it dehumanizes you at the same time. It could be good-- hell, it could be great-- but it was killed before it started and I will never not think that Asmo could have had some KILLER growth. As it stands, he has more connection/romantic potential with Solomon than MC.
Anyway, that’s all for now folks! Feel free to yell at us in the replies, you know you want to. If this post blows up enough, maybe we can rate the undatables (though they don’t have any story arcs so... that would be a challenge.)
#spice talks#sugar speaks#obey me#obey me one master to rule them all#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor
23 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
thousandenemyprince
𝔅𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔰
grishaversewomenpolls
grishaverse women tournament
angelalios
angelalios
duskastormgrove
horse girl shit
qualitystart
head first, eyes closed, can't lose