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sashi-ya · 2 years

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Hola Sashi!! cómo estás? OMGGG so excited for this event!! really i couldn’t stop thinking about it haha. btw, i also love the new theme <333 as soon as i saw the event was up i needed to send my request. so could i please have demon zoro x fem reader (human). for the kinks could they be please, degradation kink, overstimulation, blood kink. the place/location could it be on jigoku and the prompt can you fall in love in hell?

hope you are taking care of your self, and don’t forger to hydrate yourself <3

Hola hermosa!! Muy bien? y tu?! So, I think I went a little too far with this request... but, it is supposed to be demonic, isn't it? 😏 I really hope you enjoy this babe!! Thank u so so much for all of your support!

𝑵𝒔𝒇𝒘 ~ 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏! 𝑹𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒂 𝒁𝒐𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑭! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ~ 𝑨𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅

➡ Tw: nsfw. degrationg kink. blood kink. his blood is kinda used like a drug, so reader is literaly addicted to it. Blood drinking, duh. Vaginal, Anal. Overstimulating. Oral. Rough, violent and everything a demon could do if it was Zoro. ➡ wc: 2.5k ➡ Want more? visit the masterlist

Kneeling in front of such a creature, your legs tremble and your skin gets bumpy. Hell was supposed to be hot, but you are shivering. His stare, it’s cold, it’s weakening. Who are you... What are you?

Greenish hair, long strands, one of his eyes crossed by a scar. He has fangs, he looks like the embodiment of violence and bloodthirst desires. But he also looks majestic, like a Japanese deity, like some kind of God you are willing to pray for, to bow before.

The number three rules his image, three golden earrings, three katanas on his side, and a purple aura that makes it look like he is three in one.

“Wh- who are you?” you ask stuttering, for some reason you think he is able to understand you like any other human being.

“A simple human dares to ask questions?” he asks back, putting himself over you the moment he opens his mouth. And a mouth that opens and shows sharp fangs that look so ready to bite, to devour.

You don’t speak, and instead you simply make yourself into a little ball when he comes walking your way. You, however let your eyes imbibe in the way his hips move as he walks; A kimono only tied around his snatched waist covers everything down his belly button. The defined muscles of his body form the equivalent of carnal work of art, you were told hell was supposed to be punishment, but is this really a punishment? To penalize you for your life actions with such beautiful scenery is really a bad thing…?

His huge hand lands over the crown of your head, it feels heavy, but it is not the weight of the hand what makes you short of breath, but that aura that surrounds him. It feels crushing, it feels asphyxiating but you are so attracted to it that you want more, more of it surrounding your whole being.

Little claws tangle around your hair and pulling from it, he makes you lift your head to fix your eyes on his. Your head subtly thrown back makes your mouth slightly open, showing the creature in front of you a juicy pair of lips and front teeth barely grazing them.

He smirks and licks his fangs, but suddenly bites his own tongue. A drop of dark blood sprouts from it, a drop that he lets fall into your lips. It doesn’t really taste like blood, but it is irony and delicious. His dark blood taste like sin, like impurity, and it makes you wanna taste more of it, like a drug, so in need of it.

“Welcome to hell, you filthy mortal… You’ve been assigned to me” he says, smiling as your pupils dilate, because you need more of that unholy fluid that runs through his veins.

You need to know, also, for what you’ve been assigned to him… even if you can already imagine it as he shakes you and leaves you panting on the floor like a little animal about to be attacked.

“I’m Zoro, first class demon… Soon to become the king of this whole reign. Now, you can chose whether you want me to punish you with pain or you take what I have to offer in exchange for it” he says, revealing what’s been semi clear to you… he is a demon.

“I will take whatever you want” you obediently answer, kneeling with your palms over your lap and a clear submissive pose. It makes Zoro laugh so devilishly, no wonder you ended up in Hell with him… the most perverse, severe, and depraved demon of all Jigoku.

Zoro does not wait a minute longer, and just as you had him covered in clothes a few seconds ago he takes them off, completely. Those katanas that were hanging at his right side, rest so dangerously at your side. You, still unable to contain the little spasms your body experiences because of the sudden addiction for his blood, lick your lip to behold such imagery of nudity. His body looks like those sculpture you once saw in many museums, but with a little twist, his skin is not like marble but instead it has many scars of past cuts that look whiter than his caramel skin. Down his belly button, a happy trail of dark green hairs that leads you to his sex. Sex so hard, dripping, big, almost purple as it is so erect. You feel your mouth get watery, primal instincts kicking in, and the still need for his blood on your mouth.

So needy you are, you try to crawl on all fours to his crotch, making him violently grab you by your cheeks to stop you, carving marks on them with his sharp claws. “Ah such a whore, look at you so needy… what you want filthy scum?” he asks, sure you want more of his blood and now to be able to choke on his cock.

“Blood…” you mumble, having lost almost all of your free will, being a simple slave of that tempting creature so close to you. Your senses become sharper, and sharper. You can even smell his skin scent. A scent that mixes sake and masculine perfume, like sweat. And It’s not disgusting, it is spell bounding, it makes you want him to keep sweating as he fucks you just to be able to get drunk on his odour.

“Open” he mumbles, pressing harder the sides of your mandible joint just to make your mouth gap wider. He sticks his tongue out, letting more drops of his own vital fluids to flow into you. It momentously remedies your need for it, but it makes you even more and more needy the more time it passes. You feel your body readjusting to the way your heart beats faster and stronger, you are able to see more sharply around you and yet still you feel lightheaded.

Drooling you become a mere instrument of that demon now grabbing you by your neck. His arms are so strong it cuts your airflow almost immediately. And yet, if you were to die right there, you would accept it gladly… nothing feels more heavenly than doing it under Zoro’s smirk.

His eye, grey until that moment turns purple and shiny. Whether you did something to motivate it or not, you are not sure, but surely you are about to experience such change. He lifts you up just by your neck, you gag and try to breath, with no great success. Your legs hang as your feet can’t touch the floor.

“I am going to use every hole you have to stick my dick inside of them, I will fuck you until you can’t even recall what’s happening or happened to you. You will be used to receive my cum until you burst with it. And I will, for sure, drink your blood until I am satisfied with it. This is the last chance you have to decide whether you accept this or not”

You, feeling like the last molecule of oxygen has been used by your body, nod with a smirk. Of course, you will accept it, gladly and willingly…

“That’s a good bitch, you see? I wished the last ones had been so obedient…” he mumbles, letting you fall to the ground. Your knees hit the cobbled floor, and for the very first time you take a look at your surroundings. It looks like what people have depicted in art as what hell is, little islands scattered all around, a sea so red that looks like blood and fire everywhere… but what matters the most is the many punishments that are taking place on each little island. Physical punishments, and people being violently fucked by demons everywhere… perhaps that’s what is about to happen to you, and yet, you are not scared at all.

Zoro comes closer, tightening his grip on your hair once again. He pushes his own dick against your lips for you to open and receive it inside of your mouth. You do, allowing him to go as deep as he wishes in just the very first thrust. Violently, and not caring about your own wellbeing, the demon makes your throat hurt, mercilessly.

In and out, perfect, and hard hips move. You gag and cry, and you drool enough for the saliva to flow through the sides of your lips. You try to look at him in between blurry vision and salty tears. “Take. It. All. Inside” he grunts with each thrust. Zoro bites his own lips with raptured expression each time you feel like throwing up, he knows exactly when to stop to prevent so, and yet you are sure he won’t even care about it.

So hard he bites his lips sometimes, that more blood comes out of them. You are surprised by how not a single pain expression takes over his countenance, and instead he feeds you from time to time with it. The drops falling over his large shaft, just for you to lick it out of it. Pleased and grateful you drink it, drugged with the irony taste of it. It makes you even more willing to let him ruin you, to destroy you.

Zoro never stops but slaps your hands that want to bury on his well-trained ass. “Don’t touch me, disgusting whore. You are here to be touched, not to touch” he grunts, pushing you off and finishing with his own hands. He pumps harder and enjoys the way you stick your tongue out to receive his cum without even have to be asked to do so.

“You thought I wanted to finish right in your mouth, you little bitch?” he laughs, and smirking as he begins to spasm while orgasm hits him hard, he cums right on your face. Sure, some fall into your mouth, but the rest doesn’t. It bathes you completely, you try to lick it off your lips and that makes Zoro even more amazed at how much you degrade yourself to him.

His huge hand smears his release all over you and cleans your eyes. But he is not doing it because he is helping you, but just to enjoy your raptured expression while being touched by him. Zoro has you in the palm of his hand, so willingly open to be his. You have an insane addiction for him, you lust for his body, you almost love that demon…

… can someone fall in love in Hell?

“Good girl, have some more of my blood” he says, once he is satisfied with using your mouth. This time the blood comes from his wrist, carving a little mark with his fangs the dark fluid flows and drop by drop it falls to the ground. “Lick it from the floor, needy little whore” he commands, pushing your head down. And you comply as you drink it from the stones underneath your feet, enjoying every little bit of it.

While you do so, Zoro walks around you. You perhaps haven’t noticed yet, but your body is completely naked. That’s how you get to hell, that’s how everybody walks through there. The demon that’s punishing you, now uses his heel to kick you softly so you fall completely to the ground.

“Ass up” he orders, and you obey. Not on all fours, just your hips up. You wiggle your butt as if you were a little puppy so happy to see his owner. And it is, indeed, the case… Zoro, is your owner.

He kneels behind you, once again snatching your hair and pulling your head back. He plays with his once again hard sex, mixing his abundant precum with your arousal liquids up and down. “I will use these two holes, I’m glad you have both… I’m sick of those little shits with just one”

You swallow, of course he will use both, he told you that already…

First, he sticks himself into your cunt. He doesn’t care if you aren’t stretched enough to take his size, he just goes in. Your walls clench to his dick, making it even tighter for him. The demon grunts and even moans, he is enjoying your spasming womb as much as you enjoy his violent intrusion. “Keep milking my dick, lower being of hell” he encourages you, throwing his head back and carving his nails into the sides of your ass. And it goes as deep inside you, as his claws to your flesh. And it doesn’t hurt, but it makes you whine, loudly, for the very Lucifer to hear, for even God to do so.

Zoro uses your own blood to lubricate your rear entrance as he keeps destroying your uterus with his hard hip hammering motion. And when he is satisfied of fingering and fucking you, he takes his dick off you just to bow and lick your ass clean from your ferrous vital fluid. Not only he does relish in your blood taste, but he also preps your back entrance for his dick.

Dilated just enough to take him, not really caring if you will suffer, he positions himself to fuck you once again. First the throbbing tip of his dick, it begins to push itself inside you. You feel the burning of the very moment of him moving inside you. Seconds later, and already enjoying, he is able to move freely, and deeply into you. He fucks you anally, but also uses his fingers to overstimulate you over your clit.

Losing almost conscious, you still can recognize the way he has fun sticking his dick randomly into your front entrance, as well as your back one. You are sure you reach orgasm multiple times but are so many you simply stop counting them. Your body can only take a little more, but apparently and as he wants to keep fucking you endlessly, he gives you his own wrists for you to suck on his delicious blood. Blood that keeps you going, that makes your heart pump faster, that makes your senses go all over the place, allowing him to have full control of your body.

You shiver and tremble, your teeth chatter, your muscles become weak, but he still uses you as much as he desires. But even demons like him must finish, and just as he told you, he fills you up with his release. And it is so much, that you feel the pressure in your womb, an explosive sensation… yet, nothing compares with the way his fangs bury on the side of your neck.

“Give me back my blood” he whispers, like a god of terror, before biting and sucking right from your carotids the liquid your heart pumps. He does, glutting himself, with reddish liquid flowing over the commissure of his lips. An imagery you get to barely presence from the side, as he keeps fucking you even after filling you up with his own seed…

And you simply want more, for the rest of what’s left of you… or even eternity. You can definitely fall in love in hell… Or is it plain and impure addiction to this unholy being?

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rowanaelinn · 3 years

Text

Fire on Fire - Chapter Seven

chapter six / chapter eight

no one kills me after that, thank you very much <3

btw it’s midnight, i wrote that in two hours and it’s not edited so sorry in advance for that too

Rowan gently knelt down to put Aelin in the shower, her small arms let go of his neck to fall back by his side.

"I'm going to take your shirt off, is that okay?" Rowan asked gently, his voice barely louder than a whisper. She ignored him, her eyes fixed straight ahead with tears still streaming down her cheeks. "Aelin?"

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded. Rowan took the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, she raised her arms to help him but it seemed to take all her strength. She was only in her panties, sitting on the floor with her legs bent in front of her. She put her head on her knees, her arms around her legs as if it was going to protect her, as if she wanted to make herself as small as possible so that she could disappear.

"I'll be back in a second." He told her and went to his room to grab a shirt and a pair of boxers. He didn't know where she kept her clothes and he didn't want to invade her privacy any more than he already was. She hated him so the fact that he was going to see her naked was enough, she didn't need to know that he had gone through her underwear. He also took some water and towels to rapidly clean up the mess in her room.

The two minutes alone she had while Rowan was in his room and hers did nothing to calm her tremors. He took the shower palm and knelt down in front of her, she looked at him and for the first time, Rowan smiled at her. It wasn't a big smile or a pity smile, it was small and full of understanding. I know how that feels.

She didn't say anything but he could have sworn her body relaxed slightly. He turned on the water and adjusted the heat, not too hot but still (too) warm. He had noticed that she liked her shower hot because of the steam that came out of the bathroom every time she came out of the room.

The water splashed on his pants but he didn't care as he began to run the water over her arms and shoulders. She stayed still as she let Rowan take care of her, as she let the man who had been an absolute dick to her see her in her most vulnerable state.

He turned to access her back but what he saw made his heart stop for a second. Her back. That was the moment he realized he had never seen her back, no matter what he wore, it had always been covered and now he understood why.

There were two scars on the length of her spine, one at the top and one at the bottom, the same spine that wasn’t totally straight. Softly, he traced the shape of the first one and her entire body stiffened. “Please, don’t ask. Please,” Her voice was shaking and weak. Her back had been broken, he was sure of that. The scars could only have been caused by surgery. What the hell happened to her?

“I’m going to wash your hair now,” he only said and took all her hair in hand to wet them. They were soft, so soft that he may have spent more time than necessary to get them wet. He took his shampoo, not wanting to waste time looking at which of her bottles was shampoo. Gods, she brought so much product. Rowan only had shower gel and shampoo, thinking that's what everyone else had. Then Aelin Galathynius arrived, bringing shampoos, conditioners, hair care products, castor oil, and a bunch of other stuff he didn't even know the name of.

He ran some lotion through his hands and as gently as possible, he began to massage her head. She leaned her head to his touch and her breathing calmed down. Good.

He frowned as his fingers brushed against a piece of skin that did not feel the same as the others when touched. So that she wouldn't recognize his digging, Rowan looked at her scalp. A large scar was present on the right side of her head, hidden by her hair.

His breath caught, imagining all that could have happened to this woman. Quickly, his eyes searched for scars elsewhere on her body and he found a few on her arms, he couldn't see her legs from her position. The marks were not as large as those on her scalp or back but they were still there.

What the hell.

But she had asked him, begged him, not to say anything about her back so he would apply the same principle to the other scars.

He continued to massage her scalp, longer than necessary but she looked so rested that he didn't care. If it made her feel better, he would wash her hair all night.

After a few minutes, he pulled her hair back a little and gently rinsed her hair full of product. From this angle, he could see her cheeks and he noticed that there were no more tears on them, which was a good sign.

Quickly but still gently, he applied soap to her back and arms, not wanting to touch her where he would have to move her position. She had found a position where she felt safe and he would not take that away from her.

He turned off the water, rising above her and when he looked down, her eyes were already open. He'd looked at them too many times, blamed himself many times for that, but they fascinated him. Today, Rowan noticed that the blue of her eyes looked deeper and seemed to take up more space than usual. The gold was almost impossible to see. He was used to seeing the opposite, the gold grew whenever she was upset, making her eyes look like they were on fire.

He didn't smile, and neither did she. He knew that at the slightest sign of pity he would show, she would break again.

This type of breakdown she had today was not casual and he knew it, she didn't panic about her condition once and that proved Rowan right. She was used to it.

He wondered what her dreams had shown her tonight, what her mind had chosen to torture her with. It was at that moment that he regretted everything, regretted being the worst possible person around her. Not because he thought he had something to do with her condition, that kind of pain was deeper than mean words, but because maybe, if he had been a better person, she would have confided in him.

He had been so focused on pushing her away from his life that he had been blind to the possibility that he could just let her in. He shook his head, he was pushing people away for a reason. If he had any lesser friends, he would be alone now. Fenrys, Lorcan, Vaughan, Connall and now Aedion would never let him leave them, no matter how many times he had tried.

Rowan wondered if Aelin ever had anyone who fought for her the way his friends did. Sure, Dorian, Aedion, and Lysandra were here but did they notice every single thing Rowan noticed about her? Or were they wronged by her smile and the arrogance she used to hide her pain?

“Let’s get up, okay?” He said as he held his hands toward her. She looked at them and seemed to wonder what to do, he let her think, keeping the neutral expression on his face. After a few seconds of thinking, she let go of her legs and put both hands in his.

A surge of electricity passed through his body at that moment and Rowan was sure she felt it too. He used a little strength to make her stand up, her legs still a little weak. He took one of the towels and automatically Aelin raised her arms slightly, letting Rowan wrap it around her. He took another towel and had Aelin turn on herself, slowly, he began to rub her hair to dry it.

He took the opportunity to rub the towel lightly on the back of her neck and shoulders, helping her dry herself. She did nothing, just waited for time to pass, but Rowan saw that her gaze was no longer fixed on the horizon, lost in thought.

No, she was aware of what was going on around her, aware that he was there, and it didn't seem to make her uncomfortable. He left her the time, taking his hairbrush and start to untangle the small nodes that formed in the shower. It should have been more delicate.

He cringed when one of the knots didn't unravel directly, pulling Aelin's head back but she said nothing, letting him do it.

"I brought you something to wear," he said after he was done, she looked at him with a confused look before shaking her head slightly and nodding. Before he could do anything she dropped the towel that wrapped her body to the ground and removed her last piece of underwear. Rowan quickly turned around, giving her some privacy. It's not like there was anything sexual about seeing her this way, there was nothing attractive, he just wanted her to be comfortable.

“You don’t believe me,” her voice was flat, without any emotions in it. He turned his head with a frown to see her with his shirt on. It was huge for her, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the sigh. “For the scholarship.” She specified.

Well, that was random. He didn’t think about the conversation they had in the kitchen last morning at all. But if she was ready to talk, even if it was something as random as that, then he would talk. He shook his head, “I don’t, you’re right.”

“They don’t give scholarships to people like me.” No, they didn’t. “I told everyone I had one, and they believed me.”

“But it’s not true.” He said and she shook her head, confirming what he said. “How do you go to college, then?”

“My professor, Arobynn Hamel, pays for me.” Her voice was smaller than it had ever been. There was something about the way she said his name that bothered Rowan. He knew Arobynn Hamel, everyone did, he had read some of his books, he had even produced a quite good movie a few years ago. He also heard more than once Lysandra and Aelin talk about Professor Hamel.

“Why do you lie?” He asked her without judgment in his voice, only pure curiosity. It was weird for a professor to pay for a student that wasn’t one of his children, but Rowan remembered Aedion talking about Arobynn Hamel and Aelin knowing each other long before college, maybe he was a family friend? “Why lie when someone clearly cares about you enough to pay for your education? Your uncle and cousin are worried sick you’re going to lose that scholarship, you could make them feel better.”

She took a deep breath as if it was hard to speak. He was sure nobody knew what she had just told him, he could be okay with only one secret if she wanted to stop talking now. “Because the furthest they are from Arobynn, the safest they are.”

“What does that mean?” He asked but from the look on her face… She was done talking. She wouldn’t say anything more and it annoyed him, but he could respect that. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said and she nodded.

“Can you stay with me a little?” He knew how god damn hard it was to ask for help, but this little human being in front of him just did, she was strong enough to ask for something he never had the courage to ask in a decade. So he nodded, following her as she slipped in her bed, sitting at the end of it.

She had been honest with him tonight, more honest than she had been with anyone, it was only fair he was honest with her, too. “I had a nightmare,” he started. It was easier to speak without any lights on, even if he could feel her gaze burn his skin. “That’s how I heard you, I was already awake.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, he even wondered if she wasn’t asleep. “What was your nightmare about?”

“You’ve got your secrets, I have mine, princess.” She laughed softly at that and he wanted to get on his knees to thank all the gods for that. It wasn’t a big, strong laugh, but it was one. One he would cherish.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“No,” he said, honestly for the first time in his life. “You?”

“No,” her voice was quiet. “It’s weird. To answer that question truthfully. People don’t usually expect another answer than “yes” when they ask you how you are.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

“I’m scared, Rowan. And my little trick to contain the fear isn’t working lately.”

“What trick?” He frowned even if she couldn’t see it. He felt her feet close to his leg under the comforter. He stood up, took her feet and the cover, and lifted them. He sat down again and this time Aelin's legs were on him.

“My name is Aelin Galathynius and I will not be afraid,” she whispered. He turned his head toward her, a brow raised and a small smile on his lip.

“So, you say that and it works?”

“I had the same conversation with someone a few years ago,” she laughed, moving to get comfortable and maybe to lean into his touch. “But yeah, it does. Or when it doesn’t I just laugh at myself.”

He just smiled at the dark, “Sleep, Aelin.”

“Can you stay tonight?” She asked. “I don’t want to be alone.”

As he squeezed her ankle he said “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

------------------

It was still dark when Aelin woke up. The events of the night before came back to her mind with flashes, making her stand up suddenly. Rowan was lying in bed, the dim light of early dawn allowing Aelin to see his sleeping head tilted to the side.

What has she done?

What the hell has she done?

As quietly as possible she got up and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and her phone from the coffee table. She tiptoed out of the room, giving one last look to the man who had taken care of her yesterday after being a total bastard for almost two years. She didn't know what he wanted from her but she had already given and suffered too much. It wouldn't happen again.

She put on her shoes and went outside, starting to run. She listed in her head all the things she had confided in Rowan last night.

Arobynn, the scholarship, Sam's sentence...

You don't have to be alone anymore. What did it mean? She had been alone for years, no matter that she was in a room full of people, she was always alone.

Everything he said to her before last night, all the scornful looks he gave her... Everything she said...

Yesterday he told her he knew how it felt, did she hate him because he was a mirror of herself? Of the part of her that she hated the most?

She didn't care, continuing to run even though she was out of breath until she found herself in front of a familiar front door which she knocked on loudly for several seconds.

She had to run because she didn't know what was waiting for her in her room, didn't know what was going to happen. Yesterday changed things and Aelin hated change and she hated not knowing something.

The door opened and Aelin could see that he was surprised, she smiled at him but it did nothing to ease his confusion. "Aelin? What the hell are you doing here? Did you run? It's seven miles!"

"Can I crash here for a few days?" She asked out of breath. She didn’t know what she would do if he said no but she didn’t have to wonder about that for long.

He didn't hesitate before letting her into his little house. "It's your home too."

“Thank you, uncle Gav.” He smiled at her and kissed the crown of her head before she walked up the stairs to Aedion’s room. The moment her head hit the pillow she was out.

————

tag list:

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass fanfiction #fire on fire

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userpoe · 3 years

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hi!! could i pls request a poe fic with the whole “we just won a battle and you go to hug me but i flinch and you realize i’ve been hiding a huge wound and now i might not make it” trope, reader being shot by a blaster or smth? (btw i absolutely adore your writing style and take so much inspo from it)

hello, hello, this is the best trope ever! thank you for requesting it, bud, and thank you for the compliment <3 I hope you enjoy!

tw: injuries, medbay (happy ending!)

word count: 1.5k cos I can’t do brevity when it comes to Poe Dameron

Poe emerged from behind the cubby he’d taken shelter behind and twirled his blaster in one hand and blew the nuzzle for good measure. The good measure being you were (presumably) watching him to his left, and he liked doing what he could to make you laugh, especially in cases like this, when he could sense your anxiety rolling off you in silent but thick waves.

“Told you it’d be fine,” Poe said, putting his blaster back into his holster. The two of you had snuck into an abandoned First Order compound to get some intelligence and had been cornered by a security droid with surprisingly good aim. The corridor still smelled thickly of ozone and the walls now bore new carbon scoring marks.

He turned to find you moving slowly out of your own hiding place, staring at the fallen droid. Poe grinned, and couldn’t resist the urge to close the gap between the two of you to give you a hug, but as he reached for you, you winced. Poe’s hands stilled and he noticed what he hadn’t before: your face shone with sweat, your lips pulled in a tight grimace, and one hand was hovering just above your abdomen.

Poe breathed out your name just as your legs gave out beneath you. “Whoa!” He said, catching you and helping you to the ground. His own legs folded uncomfortably beneath him, but that was nothing compared to the twist in his gut and heart as he pulled your jacket and then your hand away from your shirt and he found what you’d been hiding: one of the droid’s blasts had struck home.

He sucked in a breath. It was - not great. The wound was still sparking from the blast, and there was some blood. “BB-8,” Poe called over his shoulder, unable to keep the panic out of his voice, “get the X-Wings back here now. There’s a medkit -”

The droid beeped in response, automatically understanding Poe’s order before he even had time to finish making it, and was then rolling off at high speed back to the hanger.

“Didn’t think I’d go out by a droid,” you coughed and Poe shook his head vehemently, sending a few curls flying at the quick motion.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said sternly as he yanked his scarf from around his neck in one fluid motion. He couldn’t wrap it around your wound, but he could use it to apply pressure until BB-8 returned. You hissed as he did, and Poe shot you an apologetic glance, “I gotta -”

“I know you gotta,” you said, shifting under him, one hand flying up to grasp his wrist in a light hold as he continued to press down on the injury. “Just hurts like hell.”

“Keep telling me about it,” Poe urged, trying to give you a smile, but he was sure you could feel the way his hands were shaking. Come on buddy, hurry up. “Hell, you can call me whatever you want, just keep talking, alright?”

“Sure about that, Commander? I can come up with some pretty creative insults,” you said around another cough. This time, the smile that twitched his lips was genuine. He knew that well enough; you came up with nicknames for all of your enemies or even allies you just didn’t agree with. Poe himself had been given a few, as well...out of affection, though you’d never admit to it.

“I know you can,” Poe agreed. “Why don’t you come up with a few new ones for me, pass the time ‘til BB-8 gets back with that medkit, huh?”

But your eyes had already begun fluttering. “I’ve already...come up...with plenty for you…”

“Yeah, but I never get tired of hearing them,” Poe said, moving one hand up to cup your cheek. “Hey, c’mon, Gorgeous, stay with me.”

“Never got tired of hearing yours either,” you said, eyes softening at the corners. Poe’s lips parted in surprise, but before he got a chance to reply, there was a shrill beeping from behind him. He glanced back to find BB-8 skidding towards you both at top speed. By the time he turned back to you, you’d already gone still in his arms, your eyes shut.

* *

When you woke up, your entire body was stiff from disuse. You groaned as you blinked open bleary eyes, your mouth dry and scratchy. You wet your lips and tried to take stock of your surroundings: you were back on D’Qar, that much was obvious, and in the medbay. The cot you were lying on was firm and...not that comfortable, and judging from how cold the room was, it was the middle of the night, but someone had pulled and tucked a blanket around you.

It didn’t take long to figure out who had since he was still in the room. You turned your head and found Poe Dameron asleep on a bench by your bed, tucked in the most uncomfortable-looking sleeping position you’d ever seen. He hadn’t changed since the last time you saw him, but even in his sleep, he looked exhausted and weary as hell.

So you threw a pillow at his head.

It had perfect aim, and his reaction - which was to jerk upright and nearly fall off the bench itself at his sudden movement - was perfect. His head whipped around the room until his clouded, sleepy eyes fell on you and they softened, a smile tugging at his lips until you spoke, at which point his smile promptly disappeared: “What the hell are you doing here, Dameron?”

Poe stood up, wincing slightly at the uncomfortable ache in his legs from how he’d fallen asleep, then fixed you with a look that was somewhere between disbelief and disapproving. “You were shot. Where else would I be?”

“In your quarters? Getting a decent night's sleep?” You suggested imperiously, straightening into a sitting position. You tugged down the blanket and hoisted up the new shirt you’d been given. Major Kalonia obviously had already treated you: the only thing left of your injury was a puffy red scar.

“Like I’d leave you.” Poe motioned at your abdomen. “You feeling any better?”

“I feel like bullying you,” you point out with a slightly wicked smile, “so yeah, I’d say so.” Then you frowned and admitted, “Well, I could do with some water.”

Poe rolled his eyes and picked up the canteen of water Kalonia had left for exactly this purpose and proffered it to you. You accepted it with a quiet thanks. You watched him carefully as you drank, then asked, “How’d I get back here, exactly?”

“I flew you back home. BB-8 put your X-Wing on autopilot.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Black One is a one-seater.”

“Yes it is, and you kicked me in my shins multiple times on the way back.” Poe winced. “I think I’ll be bruised for days.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said with a pout that made him grin, and maybe that’s why you did it in the first place.

“Yeah, you’re definitely feeling better,” Poe said, mostly to himself, looking around the room with his hands on his hips. “Kalonia said that once you were awake if you were feeling up to it, I could take you back to your quarters.” He looked at you expectantly. “Are you -?”

You sat down the canteen as you assessed how you felt. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Poe nodded, bounced on his heels a couple of times, then - “Does it have to be your quarters?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Poe held his hands up in supplication, “Hear me out. My quarters are closer to the medbay, so you’d have less to walk, and -” he was clearly blanking on another excuse. You could actually see the gears turning in his head.

“Poe,” you said, so he could stop bluescreening, “do you want me to spend the night with you?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he answered in a quiet voice, “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why -” Poe braced his hands on the edge of the mattress to look down at you - “Because one of my best friends just got shot and I thought I’d lost them.” He moved one hand up to brush some grime off your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not really ready to let you outta my sight yet.”

Your heart twisted in your chest at his honesty. If you were in his shoes, you would be the same way, and you both knew it, even if you probably wouldn’t be as quick to admit it as he was. “Then I’ll spend the night with you,” you paused, allowing yourself to indulge in watching his face light up for a beat before you added, “but I swear if you’re as much of a blanket thief in bed as you are on squadron holo-nights…”

“You had half of it already!” Poe protested, making you laugh, but your laugh fell silent with a sucked in breath as he pressed a quick kiss to your hairline. “Guess we’ll find out, huh.”

“You better have more than one blanket, flyboy,” is all you managed to get out, before adding a quiet, “thank you for taking care of me.”

He shrugged, “What else was I gonna do?”

#ask box #myfic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you

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lazywonderlvnd · 3 years

Note

*hesitantly steps in the box* Umm.. soo.. I was listening to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift again and that song (is awesome btw if you haven't listened to it already) just gives me such MAJOR drarry vibes .. like -

" And I screamed, 'for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?' He looks up grinning like a devil. "

Like if that's not drarry I'd chomp my pillows. So .. *twiddling thumbs* could you pls write something with that line as a prompt?? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ maybe use the song as inspiration.. idk? Whatever you like. ALSO, don't forget I STILL LOVE YOU that ain't changing yet and you haven't seen the last of me! Imma tail after you for eternity and you better take that as the threat it is! *throws love at you* BYE!! ❤️❤️ *vaults outside the box*

my sweetest most loved angel!! thank u so much for this prompt based on a BOP i was obsessed w when the album first came out. it got sm longer than it was meant to be, so it can be found on ao3 as well!! i hope u like it ilysm ❤️❤️❤️❤️

warnings for minor drug use (weed) and implied suicide of a minor character (lucius, extremely vague reference but pls be aware!)

rating: e word count: ~5k

When Pansy asked him how it started, Draco discovered that he didn’t know what to tell her.

Technically, though, it had started at Ernie Macmillan’s party in the beginning of summer, with the cloying scent of Freesias and Freedom Roses (“Imported from the States,” Ernie told Draco pompously, when he asked) and all those string-lights dangling from the cedar pergola, perennial balls of fire inside their clear bubbles like tiny trapped suns. Cheap beer in plastic cups, Marlboro cigarettes, and some stupid Muggle game ... darts.

Technically.

* * *

“Get off me, Potter,” Draco says in a failed whisper. He’s laughing and drunk and fuzzy warm under a sprawling summer’s night sky that looks like black paint. Potter tastes like Guinness every time he kisses him, and his hands are surprisingly soft. In direct opposition to his own command he pulls Potter in by the face and glues their mouths back together ravenously. The alcohol makes him sloppy (he likes it, though — the sloppiness of it) and Potter’s skin is warm where Draco slides his hand under an ugly Muggle band T-shirt to touch.

Around the corner, he can hear music coming from the patio where nearly every single one of their former classmates are gathered, drinking and laughing and getting along famously with a much-needed buffer of five years between them and their Hogwarts days.

Much-needed for himself and Potter as well. Apparently.

He sees him sometimes, at get-togethers like this or around the Ministry, once or twice at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. They’re always cordial. He hasn’t insulted Potter to his face in five years.

Except for tonight, when he couldn’t help himself loudly drawing attention to the similarities between Potter’s hair and one of the shrubs in the garden. But they’re kissing now round the side of the house and because of that he’s quite glad for his slip. And it’s their five-year reunion, so. What would it be without some bickering between the two of them?

Potter presses him into the bricks and snogs him breathless, only he keeps grinning and laughing and ruining everything just when Draco starts losing himself in it.

“Quit laughing,” he scolds him. “You’re the worst, Potter. No etiquette at all.”

“That’s rude,” Potter says. His breath wafts across Draco’s mouth. His eyes are excessively green behind their round frames, which have not changed since their school days. The scar is mostly hidden beneath his wild fringe, save for the very bottom where it slashes neatly through a dark eyebrow and touches his eyelid. “I can’t help it, I’m pissed good and proper.”

His hand moves to Draco’s hip and even through the thickness of the alcohol coating his brain like a muffler he feels that touch clear and ripe as daybreak.

“So that’s why you’ve decided to snog me rather than …” He waves a hand vaguely, in lieu of the proper witticism with which he might normally have trounced Potter. “You know. Beat me to a pulp.”

“I only did that one time,” Potter says, grinning. Grinning and moving his thumb in circles on Draco’s hip. “And it was because you were being a twat. And I didn’t beat you to a pulp. You’re so dramatic.”

“Semantics,” Draco says. “I had a bloody nose.”

“And you deserved it.”

“Now who’s being rude?”

Potter kisses him again.

Guinness and Freesias.

* * *

“Macmillan’s party,” he told Pansy. “He kissed me.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to.” She looked smug. Her inch-long nails were sharpened to a point and painted a glossy black, and she drummed them against her cheek, the way a cat flicks its tail. “I’m surprised you kept it from me this whole time.”

“Well,” said Draco, lowering his gaze to his glass of wine and watching it flirt dangerously with the lip as he swirled it. His cheeks felt warm, but he wasn’t embarrassed. “We snuck around.”

Right, maybe a little embarrassed. Mostly conflicted.

“Oh?” For a single syllable the laughter underneath was remarkably transparent.

He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Yes,” he said a little defensively. “For obvious reasons. At first it was just sex. A lot of it, so he usually came here. Apparently Granger and the Weasel are notorious for popping round his place unexpectedly.”

* * *

He feels opened up all over again every time Potter fucks into him, unhurried and so careful. His hand is hot on Draco’s thigh, both of them sticky with sweat and come. This has to be their third round at least, and Draco’s sluggish brain insists it might actually be four.

An open window lets in the late afternoon air, humid and drowsy and perfumed heavily with flowers (a la Macmillan, Draco planted Freesias and Freedom Roses outside his bedroom window and helped them along to full bloom with some careful magic). Potter’s hair is damp with sweat — from exertion and the relentless heat of July — and Draco slides his fingers into it, tangles them and pulls the way he’s learned Potter likes. If he’s honest, he’s harboured a very secret and very desperate yearning to touch Potter’s hair since he was quite young. He doesn’t know why.

Well, maybe he knows why.

Potter makes a quiet, whimpered noise that curls Draco’s toes. He speeds up his hips, closing in on his orgasm and putting his face in Draco’s neck even though it’s too fucking hot for it.

“Fuck,” Draco whines. He tries to lift his leg higher, wrap it around Potter’s waist to get that perfect angle, but they’re too slick with sweat and he lets out a frustrated noise when it falls back to the bed. “Potter,” he says helplessly, arching into each thrust and shaking with the effort. This third (fourth?) orgasm is building too slowly, sitting there hard and stubborn and heavy in his gut and refusing to be coaxed to completion. He’s dripping with the effort, muscles quivering. “Please — I need —”

But he seems to have figured it out for himself. He scoots forward, lifting Draco’s arse higher off the bed and bending him nearly in half. The angle helps him go deeper and he’s suddenly nudging Draco’s oversensitive prostate every time he fucks back in.

“Right there,” Draco gasps, tensing as this new angle lights a fire under his elusive orgasm. His cock is leaking but he doesn’t have the strength or energy to get a hand around it. Potter’s grunting with the effort of fucking him, sweat dripping down his temples and making his neck and torso gleam. “Right there, god, right there, please, I’m so close —”

Potter braces himself and redoubles his efforts, and it’s like he’s reached inside Draco and sunk his claws into that building storm in his belly because suddenly it’s ripped right out of him in a colossal wave of euphoria that approaches too much, cock spurting untouched between them . Potter keeps moving inside him while he rides it out, and at some point he feels the warm, wet explosion of Potter emptying in him, mumbling incoherent things that include Draco’s name.

They come down together too. Draco is clutching Potter’s arms and trying to catch his breath and Potter is trembling and clutching him back like an anchor in a veritable ocean of sensation.

It’s like this every time.

When Potter drops down onto the bed beside him Draco rolls over and kisses him, long and deep and satisfying, and Potter reciprocates with the kind of intensity that is completely unique to him as a person.

“That one was particularly good,” says Potter, and Draco laughs.

When he feels like moving, he knows that Potter will get up and go to Draco’s kitchen and make tea for both of them, and he won’t need to ask what Draco likes, because he remembered after the first time. They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.

And they won’t talk about it.

* * *

“And?” Pansy said.

“And what?”

“You said ‘at first,’” she pointed out, and arched a groomed eyebrow. “When did it turn into more than just sex?”

Draco tamped down on a smile, because that would have been more emotion than he cared to show at the moment. To Pansy or to himself.

He swirled his wine again and took a long sip, stalling. He wanted — needed, really — to talk this out with her, but he was becoming aware of an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest which was suggesting to him that he didn’t want to share everything. Not because he was embarrassed, but, well … it was private. It was between him and Harry.

“There was this one night he came over later than he was supposed to because of work,” Draco said. The memory stirred some emotion. He hadn’t thought of it in a while. “He had this bloody huge takeout bag of Thai food.”

* * *

He sets it down on Draco’s desk, takes out a container, and after toeing off his shoes drops sideways onto Draco’s bed with it and uses chopsticks to shovel in a mouthful of noodles. Draco watches this in awe.

“Want some?” Harry asks once he’s swallowed (small blessings). There’s grease around his mouth. “There’s a million other things in the bag but you have to get it yourself. I’m dead tired.”

Draco thinks of asking what the hell is going on, because they’re supposed to be fucking by now, but something stops him. Harry really does look exhausted but quite content eating his Thai food on Draco’s bed, and he doesn’t have the heart to berate him for it or remind him that they’re fuck buddies, not friends, and that if he’d wanted to eat and lounge about perhaps he should’ve stayed at home.

And the food really does smell good.

He gets up and fishes another container out of the bag that turns out to be some sort of heavenly-smelling marinated beef, which he brings back to the bed. Harry’s rolled onto his back and has the container of noodles balanced on his stomach.

“They thought they found a Horcrux on a raid,” he says. His voice is perfectly casual, but Draco thinks he can see something troubled in his eyes. He has one foot crossed over the other and it’s bouncing anxiously; he doesn’t think Harry’s aware of doing it. “Wasn’t. Obviously.”

“But they needed your expert advice to be sure.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks at him, then his food. “Is that the beef?”

“Yes it is.”

“Good?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

He opens the container and chooses a piece, but instead of lifting it to his mouth he follows some crazy impulse and hovers it over Harry’s instead.

“Open, Scarhead,” he says. Harry blinks but does it, and Draco drops it in. He smiles, then chews.

“Brilliant.”

* * *

“We ate it instead of fucking. It was the first time I realised something had shifted.”

“And you let it shift?”

The question gave him pause. He didn’t answer right away, mulling it over. It made it sound as if he’d had a choice, and that wasn’t quite right.

“It already had,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a matter of letting it; by the time I noticed, it had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come over with the food.”

“But you did let it continue,” said Pansy. She wasn’t antagonising him, nor accusing him of anything. She looked amused, but not in a way that was at his expense. Pansy was both a twat and a fiercely good friend, the combination of which meant she would do nothing more or less than hold up a mirror and force you to look at yourself, gruesome as the experience inevitably wound up being. “Even after you realised he had feelings for you.”

Draco swallowed. He’d not heard it said aloud before now.

“Yes,” he said. “It felt good. Knowing he fancied me.”

* * *

Harry’s shameless in his staring.

He stands in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and watches Draco like he’s been invited to do so. Draco pretends not to notice, stretched out in a tub full of bubbles facing the opposite way. There’s incense burning, and candles. Harry is completely silent, but Draco could feel those eyes on him from across a crowded hall.

They fucked a few hours ago and fell asleep afterwards. Draco pretended not to think about it, but had actually made the conscious decision to let Harry continue sleeping when he woke up and decided he wanted a bath.

When he can’t take it anymore he opens his eyes and tilts his head back and a little to the side, just enough that he gets Potter in his peripherals.

“Well?” he says.

“Well what?”

“Join me, won’t you?”

Harry snorts. Then there’s a quiver of magic in the air, and a small, utilitarian chair appears out of thin air beside the tub. Harry sits down in it. He’s holding the joint they’d only gotten halfway through earlier.

He’s in his jeans and nothing else, all limbs and sparse chest hair, and when he crosses a leg over the other one, elbow resting on his knee as he hits the joint, Draco feels a bone-deep attraction to him that’s beyond physical.

“May I?” Draco asks. Harry hands it over and Draco inhales deeply before returning it. The humidity of the room mixes with the smoke and the smell of marijuana, pungent and cloying like the flowers.

After a length of silence, Draco says, “Will you read me something?”

“Will I what?”

He takes his wand from the floor and Summons a book from the shelf in his room — one of his poetry collections comes sweeping in through the cracked door and into Harry’s lap. Harry sticks the joint between his lips and starts rifling through it with his glasses all fogged up.

When he starts reading Byron (“I had a dream, which was not all a dream”) Draco smiles and sinks deeper into the hot water and bubbles, letting Harry’s voice lull him into a pleasant stupor.

* * *

“So you led him on,” said Pansy. “Because you liked his attention.”

He stared at her, then let his gaze drop to his wine again. Had he?

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Well,” she said, smiling wryly, “I’m only saying it as you’ve told it to me. Maybe if it sounds bad, it is bad. Some things are that simple, darling. Unless there’s more to it.”

“Like what?” he said, not looking at her. There was a touch of pouty defiance in his voice he knew Pansy would detect instantly. He heard her sigh.

“What exactly happened yesterday, Draco? You didn’t give me any context.”

“What context do you need?” he muttered. “He told me he loved me.”

* * *

They’ve finished an entire bottle of wine between them. He’s not drunk, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Harry’s sprawled on his back, T-shirt rucked up just below his navel so Draco can see the dark trail of hair leading below his jeans. There’s something implicitly erotic about the movement of his chest when he breathes, his hands folded behind his head, one leg stretched the length of the bed and the other bent at the knee.

He opens his eyes suddenly and grins when he sees Draco looking at him.

“That wine just made me tired,” he says.

“So go to sleep,” says Draco. He takes a last swig, emptying it, and sets the bottle aside on his night table. He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, yawning widely, thinking perhaps he’ll give into the tempting allure of sleep as well when Harry says, “I told Hermione about us.”

So he’s not sleeping, then. His stomach clenches hard and a completely irrational sense of panic rises in his throat.

“Us?” he says slowly, sitting up straighter. “What ‘us’?”

Harry looks at him upside-down, then rolls over and rises to his knees. He stares at Draco blankly.

“‘What us?’” he repeats.

“Yes,” says Draco. “What ‘us’?”

“Us,” Harry says. His voice is lower than usual. The word is starting to sound weird and lose meaning. “You and me, Draco.”

“‘You and me?’ Harry, there’s no you and me. We’re just fucking. What do you … what do you mean, you told Granger? Told her what?”

Harry looks … well, he looks fucking crushed. And angry. Draco forces himself not to look away.

“I told her I’d been seeing you,” he says quietly. There’s something … not threatening, but close to it, in his voice.

“Sure,” says Draco. “I see you three times a week, sometimes four. I s’pose if you feel the need to fill Granger in on everything you do with every second of your day —”

“Shut up, Draco,” Harry says. “You know what I meant.”

Draco glares at him. He gets off the bed, slightly lightheaded from the wine, horrified by the emotions welling up inside him right behind the panic, and he points at his bedroom door.

“Get out,” he says.

“Are you serious?”

“Go!” he says loudly, voice rising. “If you’re gonna start turning this into something it definitely is not then get out of my flat, Potter.” As usual the window is open, but it’s the third of September and getting chilly finally and Draco’s Freesias and Freedom Roses started wilting last week. There’s a chilly breeze coming into that room that is utterly barren of the sweet smells of summer he associates with Harry these days. “It’s time we ended this anyway,” he says. “Summer’s over.”

“So?” From his position kneeling on Draco’s bed Harry shouldn’t feel imposing at all, but he does. There’s no sparkle of humour in his eyes, none of the softness Draco’s gotten used to seeing there. He looks like someone who’s realised they’ve been betrayed.

Worse than that. Someone who’s been betrayed and realises they should have seen it coming.

“What the fuck does summer have to do with anything?”

“Ever heard of a summer fling, Potter? We’re not ‘seeing each other’.”

Harry finally gets off the bed. Draco’s stomach clenches again, more painfully this time. He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself — this is Harry’s fault. His fault for making a big deal out of something easy and fun and, most of all, temporary. For ruining this with feelings.

“That’s not what this was,” Harry says. It’s not an argumentative tone; rather, he sounds disappointed. Devastated, and disappointed. And that look of betrayal, like he’s surprised but not … that surprised.

That hurts.

“This was as real as it gets, Draco,” he says matter-of-factly. “You and I don’t have the capability of doing anything as shallow as a fling.”

“Well, Potter,” says Draco, straining to maintain his level voice, “congratulations, because that is the most disgusting, romanticised, Gryffindorian piece of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” He grabs up his wand from the bedside table and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. “Well here’s another: I love you. You complete fucking prick.”

Draco stares after him as he leaves the room, cowed for the moment. He hears Harry take the Floo powder off his mantle, hears the fire start, and then the sound of Potter disappearing.

And he feels hollow suddenly.

* * *

“And he said it completely out of the blue?”

Draco set his wine aside. He was suddenly feeling too sick to put anything else in his body.

“Sort of,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “He was trying to make something out of nothing. He was just making a point, trying to guilt me, I don’t even think he meant it.”

Pansy said nothing for so long that Draco finally looked up. She had an eyebrow raised.

“Do you really believe that?” she said.

Draco didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bottle of wine on the table and thought about the way it always tasted a little sweeter on Harry’s lips.

“I don’t know,” he said. “No. But it doesn’t change anything. It was a summer thing, not a … a relationship, for crying out loud. Like I’d date Potter.”

“Why not?”

Draco scoffed. “Why not? Pansy, please. He’s a …”

“A …?”

“He’s an idiot! He’s Potter! He’s …” He couldn’t think of the right word, something bad enough to express the audacity, the gall , for Potter to think even for a second that they could …

“Draco Malfoy,” said Pansy. She was smirking. “You love him too.”

Had he felt sick before? Now he was going to be sick.

“I never would’ve imagined it,” she went on, seeming to take pleasure from his outrage and humiliation. The bint. “Look at you, you’re blushing! Oh my god,” she laughed. And then she stopped laughing, and instead the weight of her own words appeared to descend on her. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? You are arse over tits for Harry Potter —”

He was up and out of his chair before she’d finished the last word, absurdly, embarrassingly on the verge of tears all of a sudden.

“Draco —”

“I’m glad this can serve as your entertainment for the week, Pansy,” he said. A tear rolled down his cheek — could he be any more histrionic? — and he brushed it away furiously.

“Draco, no —”

“Call Blaise, tell him!” he shouted. “You two can have a good laugh over it —”

“Draco —”

“Poor Draco’s fucked himself over again, what a stupid wanker!”

Pansy got up. He slapped her hand away when she reached for him, but she only came at him again and grabbed it this time when he swatted at her, enfolding it in both of hers. He closed his eyes and hiccoughed and two more tears came.

“Darling, will you please listen to me?” she said softly. It sounded eerily like his mother, which only made him feel young and childish. He tugged his arm away and she let him go, but he didn’t move any farther away. “I am not laughing at you,” she told him. “Blaise might, but that’s because Blaise has a black hole for a heart, Draco, the only emotion he’s ever felt is disdain.” Against his will, Draco chuckled wetly. Pansy smiled and took his hand again, tentatively. He allowed it. “ I think it’s lovely that you have feelings for him. I don’t understand what’s got you so upset, I mean … I know it’s Potter, but we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Who cares?”

Draco exhaled a long sigh.

“He let my father go to Azkaban,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. He saw comprehension dawning. “How can I be with someone who could’ve saved my father’s life and chose not to, Pansy?”

“No one could have saved your father, Draco,” said Pansy gravely. His throat was tight, swollen. He hated that he was hanging on her words, looking for truth in them, wanting to hear something that would make this okay. “He would have done the same thing if they’d let him go back to the manor. It’s not your fault or your mum’s or Potter’s.”

“But —”

“But what?” she cut him off sharply. “Draco, please don’t let your father keep controlling your life from the grave! My god, you deserve happiness, don’t you see that? Even if it’s Potter! In fact, I … I think that could be really good.”

“What, being with Potter?”

“Yes, being with Potter,” she said. “Darling, I say this because I love you: you need to grow a pair of bollocks and start taking control of your own life. I’m not finished!” she added when he opened his mouth to retort. “I understand that it feels like a betrayal of your father, I do, and I’m not saying you can’t have your cherished memories of him, but Draco … you cannot live your life in his shadow, doing things because it’s what he’d want or wouldn’t want. I think that choosing to explore these feelings you have for Potter is the bravest and healthiest thing you could possibly do for yourself.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes wet though the tears had stopped falling.

“What if it doesn’t last?” he said finally. “What if next week he realises it was a huge mistake?”

“First of all, I doubt that,” said Pansy with a roll of her eyes that was clearly meant to be teasing. “You said you’ve been seeing him all summer, that’s plenty of time to have gotten sick of you. And, even if that did happen, I still think it would be entirely worth that week of being disgustingly in love.”

“Do you?” he drawled.

“Yes! I do!” She picked up his discarded wine glass from before and held it up. “Does the effect of alcohol last forever?”

“No …”

“Of course not! And we don’t expect it to. We expect to have fun while we’re drunk and it’ll last as long as it lasts.”

“Dating someone isn’t like being drunk, Pansy,” Draco said sourly.

“Oh, that’s not the point ,” she huffed. “We don’t do things because we know they’ll last forever, we do them because we want to. In the moment.”

“Sounds irresponsible.”

“Well, of course it is,” she scoffed. “Love is completely irresponsible, that’s the fun of it, Draco. Now take this,” she shoved the glass of wine into his hand, almost spilling it. “Drink up, and then get your arse over to his flat and fix this.”

* * *

Granger opened the door. Draco sighed.

“Hello, Granger,” he said lamely. Her raised eyebrows said she was surprised and thoroughly unimpressed by his appearance.

“Malfoy,” she said.

“Is Potter in?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On?”

She looked at him, dark brown eyes impenetrable. Then she closed the front door behind her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To talk to him,” he said tightly. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, now he had to pass a test to get past Granger the bridge troll. “I thought he told you —”

“He did,” she said flatly. “And about yesterday.”

“Well I’m here to apologise,” said Draco. Granger’s eyebrows lifted again. Still unimpressed. “And to tell him …” He sighed again and broke eye contact, willing himself not to give up, not to take this as a sign he should just go home and ream into Pansy for giving him such bad advice.

“Malfoy.” He looked up. Her voice was softer now, and her eyes seemed a little less hard. “What are you doing? You really hurt him, you know.”

“I know,” he said stiffly. “I said I’m here to apologise.”

“Well he doesn’t need an apology,” she said. “If you’re only going to let him down again —”

“I’m not.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at her again, exasperated, defeated. “I’ve … had some sense talked into me.”

She looked like it was the last thing she’d been expecting.

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he said. “So would you please get him for me before I lose my nerve?”

It was the right thing to say. Her expression melted into something much softer and he fancied he even saw the beginnings of a smile.

“Can I ask who affected this change of heart?”

“Pansy,” he said. And, when Granger seemed taken aback, “She’s very wise when she feels like it.”

“I see. Well …” She still looked a bit conflicted, eyeing him and then putting her hand on the doorknob. “All right. I’ll tell him you’re here, anyway, but he was really hurt, Malfoy. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

Granger eyed him another moment and then went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Draco only had to wait a minute before it was opening again, and this time Harry came out. The sight of him made Draco’s heart feel tender and sore.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Potter.”

He waited to see if Harry would say anything else but he didn’t. He only stared at Draco expectantly, arms folded, in all ways closed off.

“I came to apologise,” said Draco.

“Well you can keep it,” said Harry. “I don’t need an apology because you told me the truth.”

“It wasn’t the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Opposite, really.”

Harry was silent. Then, “You made me feel like shit, Draco.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You freaked me out, springing it on me like that.”

A beat, then two, and then suddenly Harry was dropping his arms and sighing and he looked at Draco with so much vulnerability he nearly had to turn away from it.

“I didn’t mean to tell you …” He licked his lips, scratched his arm. It reminded Draco that beneath everything, Harry was still the same awkward dorky leader-of-the-losers he’d always been, just with a bit more confidence now and the title of Official Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I wouldn’t have said that if … I was just angry.”

He didn’t need to ask what Harry was referring to.

“I know.”

“Not that I didn’t … I mean, I … I do —”

“Please don’t say it again,” Draco said. Harry laughed.

“Right. I just meant … I really do have feelings for you, Draco. Like … mad, crazy feelings, y’know? I don’t want it to be a fling.”

“It wasn’t a fling,” he said. He moved a little closer and Harry watched him carefully, eyes flickering once down to Draco’s mouth. “I didn’t even sleep with anyone else the whole time.”

“Well that’s good to know,” said Harry sardonically. But he was smiling, so Draco found himself smiling tentatively as well.

“I wanna be with you, Potter. Properly. I thought …” But he shakes his head, deciding that now isn’t the time to explain about his father. “I thought it was a stupid idea. Now I realise that it probably is, but that I don’t really care much. I’ve decided to ignore my better judgment this one time.”

“That’s quite Gryffindor of you,” Harry commented drily.

“Yes, well.”

“So I go against your better judgment, then?”

“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Please, I don’t mean it like —”

“I’m taking the piss, Draco,” Harry cut him off. He reached for Draco’s waist and pulled him close, and before Draco could get his breath back from a short, surprised intake of breath Harry’s mouth was on his, warm and familiar and soothing. He brought his hands to Harry’s face and kissed back without bothering to hide his overwhelming relief.

Harry chased his mouth when he pulled away and Draco breathed out a laugh, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest.

“We have plenty of time,” he said. “D’you wanna come over later tonight, after your friends leave?”

“What? No, come in.” He took Draco’s hand and gestured with his head towards the door. “Please. It’s just Ron and Hermione. They know everything.”

“Really?” Draco drawled. “And you think Weasley won’t try to kill me?”

“I promise not to let him,” Harry grinned. “Please, Draco. You said you wanted to do this properly, right?”

He thought of what Pansy said about being irresponsible, and decided it was worth a try at least.

“Okay,” he said. Harry beamed and tugged him inside.

Towards his ultimate downfall or towards the beginning of the rest of his life, he didn’t know. That, as Pansy would have said, was the fun of it.

#anna writes #answered #drarry fic #god i had sm fun writing this tysm for the prompt 😩

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Nightingale - 19

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Yeah...this gets darker with some violence, a torture-ish situation, angst, sadness. A/N: Gotten to 347 of Shippuuden, btw. What a ride! As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag!

Ch. 19

Her restraints haven't been altered, so Uguisu sits straight in the chair – the only display of freedom being a leg daintily slung over the other, allowing a foot to tap along in the air to an unheard melody as if she's bored. There is no fear in her face, just mild curiosity as she regards the towering man who has turned to her now. Gloved fingers move nimbly to release the gag.

"How are you feeling, Minami-kun?"

If she's surprised at the question and the (relatively) kind voice, she doesn't show it. "Much better, thank you. I don't believe I've slept this well since I was a teen."

"I suppose not..." Ibiki concedes, "but how come you managed to tonight? I would expect someone with your claimed experiences would have nightmares."

"Normally, yes. I guess I was too exhausted even to dream." The interrogator has begun circling the chair where she sits so her gaze lands on Kakashi instead.

"It can be a relief to finally tell the truth."

She nods. "Might also have helped that establishing the seal burned through all my chakra."

"The seal...yes." Pausing, he lets a hand brush against her shoulder, and while Kakashi holds his breath in anticipation, the woman merely tenses. "Do you feel...different with the seal?"

Uguisu purses her lips slightly as if in deep thought. "Well, apart from the physical effect...I'm not sure. It might be psychological that I feel free...like a looming shadow has been chased away...it probably is...but it's the best metaphor."

"You mentioned a physical effect?"

"It throbs, hurts. Not the worst I've ever felt but enough to be annoying." It’s impossible to tell she’s experiencing any discomfort when looking at her.

"Last night, you told us how the Curse Mark would be triggered if you used too much of your chakra or kekkei genkai." She nods at his words. "Is that the same now?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Why not?"

The little bit Kakashi knows about the woman, he can easily imagine that she's biting a sarcastic comment back rather than the calm reply she gives: "It seemed unwise to do anything without proper approval first...and I'm afraid to try."

"Explain."

"...which part?"

"The latter," Ibiki prompts less patiently but adds, "if you'd be so kind."

"When the mark activates, it's as if Orochimaru takes over mind and body and I...don't...want that."

Kakashi fears for one short moment that the woman will be asked to continue explaining, to retell in gruelling details what exactly she has suffered through at the hands of Konoha's enemy, and maybe that was Ibiki's plan as he bends over her to scrutinize her eyes and face because to the careful observer there's a subtle change in his stance.

He signals Inoichi who brings out a backpack together with a bundle containing the gear she’d carried last night.

“Is this yours?” The man with the long ponytail lifts the backpack.

“It is.”

“What is in it?” He places it on the end of the table that’s free.

A shrug. “I suppose that depends if anything has been added or removed since last I packed it.” Undoubtedly, Uguisu doesn’t trust the men very much. “There should be some tools, weapons, and clothing of mine. You’d also find a book from the Academy’s Library, a necklace, an alarm clock, someone’s favourite cup...washed, I might add...ehm, an also-washed sock, a photograph, and a pretty stone.”

Every item mentioned is procured from the depths of the luggage and lined up on the table.

Morino takes over again: “You have stolen these things, true?”

“Is it still considered stealing if the intention from the beginning is to return them?”

“Then why take them at all?”

A grim smile dances across the woman’s face. “The note explained why I borrowed the book. The rest? Proof that I could’ve killed but chose not to. I’m not the enemy.”

A smile is tugging at Kakashi’s lips behind the black fabric of the collar as he sees the interrogator momentarily at a loss for words – the skills he has honed over the years are telling him the explanation is true or at least not detectable as a lie.

"Then tell me," he recovers, "what you can do with your skill. Why was it so important to Orochimaru?"

"Because it can force people to go against their very nature." Only silence answers her. "One order from me, worded carefully, and the person will have no choice but to follow it to their best of their abilities. They will want to. Like an obsession or addiction nagging their mind until they give in to it because it's the only thing that matters to them. Orochimaru sought to use it to gain access to restricted places or during interrogations if a prisoner refused to tell him what he wanted. At the time, it wasn't necessary for the sake of carrying out murders but I'm certain he considered that as an option too," she sighs, "and probably more."

"Show us."

The onlookers were already silent but the hush that falls in the room makes it feel as though all air has been sucked away – a feeling that's intensified when Uguisu stares at the man with open mouth.

"Show? Are you...you don't mean that," she gasps, "or are...you volunteering?"

"Hm," Kakashi knows something's brewing when the interrogator begins to smile, "not me, no. However I'd recommend you demonstrate your skill on someone who has stated their devotion to you." Yeah, that makes sense. "Kakashi."

Even before Ibiki has finished saying his name, the jōnin in question has pushed to his feet. If Asuma had been there, he’d probably look at the white-haired friend in a way which would mean something along the lines of "told you so". The only Sarutobi, the old Hokage, shifts in his seat but doesn't object, allowing the addition to the people in the arena.

"Order him to follow the first order I give him."

Just do it. Kakashi nods to the woman, hoping to banish the fear from the doe-like eyes as she shifts her attention between the two men. I got nothing to hide.

“I must be able to sign,” she protests.

Without hesitation, the tall man in charge cuts her bonds and even allows her time to rub some life into hands and fingers before he motions towards the test-bunny. Is she hesitating? Just as Kakashi begins to wonder, Uguisu’s hands flies through a series of signs.

"Kakashi..."

Everything changes. The surroundings seem to fade away along with the people in it – even the shadow that once was Ibiki is unable to take form or speak audibly as it leans closer to Uguisu. Uguisu. She's washed out too, but her voice rings clear, somehow guiding him as she speaks again and he just knows that anything she says is important. Follow the order Ibiki gives me. It's a strange thing to say, but if that's what she wants then he'll happily do it and as he nods, the man in question begins to stand out clearer in the blurred world.

"Strangle her until she passes out."

A part of Kakashi tries to object, but his body moves on its own accord until he's leaning over her because this is what she wanted. She told him to follow the order. So he does.

The skin is soft and smooth under his fingers, the little hairs in the neck obediently bend under the pressure and it tickles a memory of having touched the blue strands before but in a different way. Above his hands the usually pretty face is distorted: mouth open, eyes watering and huge. She's afraid? But she wanted me to do this. It doesn't make sense, really, but he clings on to the one thing he knows for sure. Do as told. Her eyes roll backwards and the whites contrast the flushed skin. Almost there. Almost done as you wanted. Something wet lands on her face. Drops of something unimportant. She's resisting a bit now, but it's easy to avoid the instinctual flailing. Almost. And then she stops. The haze of the world lifts as Kakashi's hands fall to his sides and he realizes what he has done.

It takes four seconds to lower her onto the floor.

It takes five before he can hear the heartbeat, sluggish and faint.

It feels like an infinity before she gasps and coughs, each intake of breath shuddering through her body. It nearly breaks his heart to feel Uguisu stiffen as he pulls her into his lap.

"Truth..." Ibiki’s standing with his arms crossed, glaring down at the woman and smiling lazily as he takes in how she reacts even in her ally's arms. "Gotta admit I'm impressed it actually worked...maybe you're not completely useless after all."

"You wanna...see...usefulness?" she wheezes, pushing off of Kakashi and onto her feet. She's shaking, whether from the underlying trauma or the near death experience itself is unclear.

The man who ordered the attack strolls around the arena. "You didn't even try to fight him."

"Why should I...an order cannot be annulled..." Slender fingers tentatively stroke the angry marks left behind on her throat, making Kakashi’s gut tighten.

"Aï...The only thing I've seen so far is a scared woman crying and snivelling."

Something ignites within Kakashi almost as if he had been the target of the insult. But if I butt in...no...He knows the senior well enough to understand that this is part of the tactic, one move of many in an elaborate game of chess between him and the blue-haired girl.

Maybe she knows it too, at least she doesn't hide a tiny smile. "Fight back." Now her smile has grown into a full grin. "Perhaps a duel? Unless it's beneath you to fight a snivelling, scared girl like me? Hmm?"

"No involvement of others."

"Hm," she agrees.

Getting the hint, her white-haired friend retreats to his seat from before, only now realizing that his mask is wet.

Below, Uguisu is equipping the gear she normally wears and meticulously checks the contents of each pouch and sheath. Her hands are shaking. The sound of her breathing still has a slight creaking to it. Maybe for that reason, the scarred man is allowing her to take her time. He wants to see how capable she is.

Ibiki squares off at one side of the sandy floor. "The opponent must yield."

Again, she hums in agreement, taking her own place opposite of him. "Before we start...you might want to have a look in the book," she sweetly offers, "first page."

"Hah! Such a low trick won't work."

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kneel-begyourpardon · 4 years

Text

Boy In The Crowd

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: you never thought you would find your saviour in the crowd.

Warning: ANGST, physical and phycological abuse, rape, human trafficking, Statutory rape, smoking, drinking, violence, some bad parenting, paedophilia, mention of suicide, vomit, implied smut, pregnancy, childbirth, fluff? well somewhat happy ending.

Word count: 3813

A/n: this was for our lovely @writingsoftheloser‘s 1.5k writing challenge. I’m so proud of you hun! you deserve so much more! (BTW I’m always right.) and huge thank you to @simam12 for putting up with my whining. hope you enjoy and please tell me anything I missed in the warnings.

Prompt: Dill- powerful again evil. (I hope it goes with it?)

The first time he saw you, you were five. He still remembers it as clear as a day. The first time his father ever showed interested in spending time with him. The first time he stepped in that terrifying place. Full of darkness and wicked. The smoke-filled his lungs as he sat down next to his brother. His feet dangled from the edge of the couch as the laughter of drunk man reached his ears. The disturbing smell of alcohol was giving him a headache and he wished he stayed behind, with his mother.

A woman appeared on the stage and clapping begun. Her ridiculous costume and the smile, made him think they came to the show but the moment the woman opened his mouth his brows furrowed in confusion. He wanted to ask what was going on, but when he saw his brother’s excited face and how proud his father was of him, he shut his mouth and focused on the woman.

“We have a new one!” she yelled and catcalls and whistles filled the room. The banging on the table made him flinch as he looked around. The men looked like animals. Starved for days, only to be fed and it scared him. It scared him to his core.

A little girl appeared on the stage dressed in disgusting garments. Described with the words that were only told to him that was disrespectful. With the words that he had never heard before. The words that only made the crowd go crazier as they began yelling.

Men looking at you like you were a prize. Their eyes sparkled as they licked their lips, warmed their hands, counted their money. They ordered you around and you couldn’t help but shake. This all was new to you. What was happening? You had no idea.

Your little legs trembled as you were ordered to turn around. Ordered to bend over. Ordered to open your mouth. Your tiny fingers fiddled with the hem of your white, see-through top, as they started bidding.

The shouting got louder as the numbers he hadn’t learned yet were yelled out and he looked around. The money got to millions and the woman clapped her hands from the exhilaration of payment as she announced the winner.

Back then he didn’t understand. Why were you treated like that? Why were you looked at as if you were a piece of meat and nothing else? When you were just like him. A child. An innocent child, that was supposed to be loved and cared. Not dragged around like a doll.

He remembers looking into your eyes. When you scanned the crowd and your gaze settled on him he felt pain. He felt guilty and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t even know what was happening. But something in your eyes made him want to cry.

Maybe It was your small smile or small wave with one finger. Maybe it was the fear in your eyes when one of the men stood up and sneered at you. Or maybe it was just his heart that kept telling him to come up there and take you back home to his mama. Keep you safe. Keep you away from these cruel men.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t say a word when a drunk middle-aged man, dressed in fancy clothes grabbed you but your upper arm and dragged you out of the room as other men whined.

Your little legs couldn’t keep up with his enormous strides and you tried to look back. Look back at him. But the man just kept going and you had to follow. You had to do as they said. You had to make them feel better or you were useless. You were taught well and that’s all you knew. Don’t fight them. Do as they say. Make them feel good. Make them pay. So what if you didn’t understand what they said? You did as they say.

**************************************

The second time he saw you, he already knew what was going on. As he walked into the room he was met with the familiar sight. Nothing had changed. Everything was the same. Almost half a decade and it felt as if he was still five years old, lugs burnt from the smell of cigars and alcohol.

The atmosphere was the same. The people were the same. Disgusting and vile. The same woman took the stage and it started the same way but this time you weren’t the first one. The shouting and screaming, once again filled the room as the money went up. The same thing.

Men on the stage. Scared girls. Leaving the room. Next one.

Everything was identical until you stepped on the platform.

He looked at you but he couldn’t recognize you. You had changed. You had turned into a completely different person. Ten years old and your eyes held sadness and sorrow he had never seen before. The expression you looked over the room with, made him look away. Made him feel ashamed.

There he was, sitting comfortably, fully dressed in dear attire, while you stood there in front of hundreds of revolting men looking at you. Judging you by your body. By how small your waist was, how shiny your legs were, how much your corset was stuffed and he felt his stomach turn.

And as if you were looking for him, your eyes landed on the raven-haired boy and the hatred he saw in your gaze made a lump form in his throat. That small smile you had gifted him was replaced by a glare.

How could you smile at him when he was one of them. When he was sitting all happy while you were forced to please the men. Please the monsters. They didn’t care how old you were. They didn’t care how hurt you were. They paid the money so you belonged to them for the night. They could use you the way they wanted and then throw away you like you meant nothing. Leaving you in the bed or on the floor.

And every night was a crack to your soul. A step to shuttering. A move to finally giving up. But you still held your head high. Still fought. Still trying. You knew there wasn’t much time left for you. There was a reason there weren’t many older girls at the place. The thought of ending this sounded much better than bearing a child from one of them. Giving her the same faith as you. You weren’t going to leave her in this hellhole. You weren’t going to let someone else suffer like you. You weren’t going to give them another toy. Another doll to play with.

You shot last glare and two men took a hold of your shoulders, leading you out of the room.

He followed with his gaze, praying that you would look back and would see how sorry he was. How he wished he could help. But you didn’t. You just made your way without a glance and that’s when he excused himself from the table.

He stumbled into the washroom. Kicking the door open, he fell to his knees. Heavy breath. One, two and there it was. He clutched the edges of cold marble as he took out everything he ate. Closing his eyes tightly, the picture of your cold glare appeared in front of him. The two men standing behind you and just the thought of what they would do to you made him take out everything that was left in his stomach. The sob escaped his lips as he thought how many nights you went to sleep with tears in your eyes but not being able to cry because of the gruesome man sleeping next to you. And God knew, what he would do to you if you woke him up.

With trembling hands, he wiped his mouth. With shaky knees, he stood up and washed his hands. With hatred in his eyes, he looked in the mirror and that was the first day he felt ashamed for being a man.

**************************************

Seventeen. What have they done to you? What have they turned you into?

Your eyes, they were dead. They held no emotion. No joy, no fear, no hatred. Nothing.

Your body was degraded from all the sickening roles you had to play to please the men. Your soul was degraded from all the unholy things they have done to you. Your pride was degraded from all the times they have touched you with you begging to be released. They finally broke you, those cracks finally came together and tore you apart.

For a second he thought your legs would give out. You would finally give up. Your heart would finally stop as your lungs would breathe out last time. You would fall and the peaceful sleep would take over you, for forever. Part of him hoped that’s what would happen. At least you’d be safe. At least you would be out of this cruel, dark world. At least nobody would touch you after that.

The Bidding begun and he felt the familiar urge to stand up and scream, to shout, to take your hand and run away. Run and don’t look back. They broke you! They took a life away from you! The only thing that was left from you was a dead body. The body they would use and throw away.

He tightened his hands on his stomach, as tears filled his eyes, his body shook but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

What have they done to you?!

“You want her?” his father’s voice reached his ears and his eyes flickered to him for a moment. When he saw the smile oh his face, he was sure he wouldn’t make it to the restroom this time. So he tightly closed his eyes and nodded. Nodded and he couldn’t help but wish to be dead.

The bidding continued but he couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anything, except you. You and your frozen figure. Your slumped shoulders and your dead eyes. Your fragile body and your faded scars. He couldn’t look away.

The sound of applause woke him up as his brother’s patted him on the shoulder. The laughter, clapping, whistling and blinding lights. As if he just won a prize. As if he did anything. His father smiled at him and he hurried him up his feet. Suddenly everyone was looking at him. Every pair of eyes were on him and he felt the blood leave his face as he looked around. Was this how you felt? Of course not. They watched him with proud smiles on their face while eyeing you like a prey.

He slowly made his way towards the stage. The weight on his heart made it harder to breathe as he stumbled up the stairs. There you were. Still standing unmoved. And for a second he doubted himself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should just go back, sit down and keep his head down just like you.

And as if the crowd sensed his hesitation, another applause roared and it took everything in him not to double over, taking out everything, one more time.

He took another step in your direction and you finally looked up at him. You looked at him and the look of recognition ran over your face. The disappointment in your eyes made him want to fall to his knees and assure you he wasn’t like other. Assure you that he wouldn't touch you. Promise you that all he wanted was safety for you. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t while everyone was watching.

He gently took a hold of your arm and led you to the direction he has seen you disappear before. The door closed and the crowd was left behind. He let go of your hand and took a step back. This time was different. You had to lead the way as he followed behind you, hesitation clear in his steps.

Others this time would grab you roughly, drag you to the room and have their way, but not him. Maybe he was waiting for you to be completely alone before doing anything. Maybe he was shy because it was his first time with you. You didn’t know what was running through his head but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

You thought he was different. Different from his brother. From his father and from his men. Well, at least you hoped he was but you were wrong. Naive to believe his kind could be any better. They were men after all.

You opened the door and stepped in first, the boy hot on your trail. He closed the room and you turned to face him. His beautiful eyes looked over the room. You had to admit he was attractive but you had seen too many nice faces with ugly souls. You weren��t going to fall for it this time.

He didn’t make a move as his focus stayed on a fancy room. It was too fancy for this kind of situation and he realised why the men paid so much for a night. The room had two more rooms and he assumed one of them was washroom but another he didn’t even want to find out because of your quick, fearful glance towards it.

You stood there waiting for him to do something. anything. To make a move. To order you around. To ask you how this goes but nothing happened. His eyes finally settled on you but he didn’t look over at your body like every other. He didn’t lick his lips. He didn’t regret spending money on you. No, all he did was look you in the eyes. There was something in them that made you want to smile. Smile for him. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe the remorse. Maybe the pleading. Maybe the sadness in them. You didn’t know but you liked it.

“Loki,” he whispered, disturbing the comfortable silence. “Name? Your name?” he breathed out, as if afraid to ask.

You shrugged. You weren’t given the name. The name meant that you had something they couldn’t take away from you. The name meant that you were a person. The name meant that you were just like them.

And how were they going to treat you like nothing, if you were just like them? How were they going to control you fully, if you had a name they couldn’t change? How were they going to imagine you were someone else if you had a name?

As if you had burnt him, he took a step back. The heavy breaths and tears were usually your roll, not theirs. So you tilted your head, looking at him with curiosity and even though what you have been through. He saw innocent in your eyes. And the next words brought a smile to your face as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

**************************************

They all said the only thing that could save you was an angel. An angel of death. Coming down from the clouds. Swiping you off your feet and taking you far away from everyone. Keeping you safe.

You have been waiting for that day since you were five. That’s all you wished for. An angel. Kind angel but you never thought if you’d find that angel in the crowd. The crowd that destroyed you. The crowd that took everything from you.

But here he was. Wrapped around you like a safety blanket as a little girl slept next to you. Her tiny hand clenching around one of his long, thin fingers and you smiled as tears pulled in your eyes.

You never thought you would have this. This family. The family that you felt safe in. the family that wouldn’t be taken away from you.

The feeling of safety was addicting and you didn’t want to let it go. Didn’t even want to think about it being gone. Being taken away from you.

All you could do was thank Loki. Thank him for being different. For being a real man.

Four years since you left that hellhole. Since you escaped and you didn’t even want to think back. Remember your past. You don't even know where you would be if it wasn’t for Loki. he was so gentle with you, so caring.

He thought you how to read. How to write. He would pay an insane amount of money every night, since the first one and sneak in the books and papers for you to learn. He wouldn’t make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with and for the first time in seventeen years you were excited for nights to come. You stepped on that stage with a smile and sparkling eyes. Searching crowd every time until your eyes would settle on your Loki. the fear of him not being there would creep it’s way to your heart but he was always there with a small smile on his face, waiting for you to notice him.

Nobody cared enough to see your falling in love with a charming boy in the audience. As long as you were paid for they couldn’t care less what you did in that room. It made easier for both of you. He would tell you stories outside this building, what it looked like. How people treated each other.

It took a little time for him to convince you, that not every man was like ones in the audience. Not every man was cruel and evil. This word wasn’t only filled with darkness. You believed him. You believe him because he was standing in front of you. A different man was standing in front of you. Doing everything you wanted to do, and not him.

The day he told you, he had a plan for you to escape was the day you first cried in front of him. Tears streaming down your face and him holding you, saying you didn’t have to. But the tears were from happiness. From actually having the opportunity to live a somewhat normal life. That was the day you were happy, for the first time that somebody touched you. That somebody was holding you and you didn’t want it to change for anything.

You escaped and Loki bought a little place for you. He knew you couldn’t live on your own in a completely different world. So he helped as much as you could.

It was the first time you had your own room. Which you didn't have to share with anyone. Not with a bunch of girl or man that would disappear in the morning.

Loki thought you how to cook, how to dress, how to act in front of people. And in no time you were ready to live on your own. You got a job. It didn’t pay much but enough for you to survive. You haven’t even thought about Loki leaving until he brought it up. Until he asked you if you’d like for him to leave. You could hear the sadness in his voice and could see the pleading in his eyes to let him stay. That was the first time you realised you were finally independent. Able to make your own decisions. You could choose what you wanted. And your first choice was Loki.

A man that did everything you asked. A man that made all of this happen. A man that saved you. You found your angel and you weren't going to let him go.

The excitement, the huge smile and his small thank you made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Your heart started pounding and all you wanted to do was to touch him. And you did. The small embrace you gave Loki was all he needed. All he ever wanted. It was all he ever wished for. You, not being afraid to touch him.

Life with Loki was the best thing that had ever happened to you. The light touches and shy smiles lasted for two years. Both of you knew how much you liked each other but you weren't ready and Loki wasn’t about to push you. He waited patiently. You being next to him was enough. More than enough. It was a blessing for him and he wasn't going to ruin it.

The first kiss was as tender as your feelings and as loving as Loki's. You had never been touched that way. That caring, passionate way. Never before have you thought that touch could be this gentle. Never before thought you would enjoy being kissed this much. Leaving you craving for more. This was something new. Something exciting. And your giggles were full of life after small kisses or ones full of adoration.

Like the kiss was your first time with him. You didn’t plan it but you weren't going to stop. Every time he looked at you for permission your heart would swell and you did everything in your power not to start crying right then and there. You had never in your life being more in control than that night. Loki only did things you wanted. Pleasing you the way you didn’t even know excited. Making you fall for him harder every time he looked you over to see any sign of discomfort but there was none.

You have been blessed and the little precious gift that was left in you after that night made your life perfect.

Thoughts about having a child completely changed in you as you couldn’t wait to see your little baby. A baby of a man you loved and actually wanted a family with. Not some wealthy disgusting stranger. But a caring, loving man that you knew would be with you no matter what. No matter how you changed.

The baby came and your life had never been more flawless. If this was what everyone else felt outside than no wonder they loved living so much. The happiness that settled in your heart was permanent and you wouldn’t trade it. For anything.

If those years were the price you paid for this amazing life, you were more than grateful you went through it. It was hard and ruthless. It made you question everything. It made you want to stop living but this. This thing was beautiful. And you were thankful for your hard years because the man you found it that audience was the reason to live.

“Thank you.” you whispered trying not to wake the crybaby up.

“No.,” he said as a light kiss was planted on your shoulder. “Thank you.”

You smiled as the tears slid down your cheeks. Turning around, you hugged him tightly. He rubbed your back as you buried your head in his chest.

He was really here. Your angel was here. And you were saved.

#vi1.5kmeaningschallenge #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki imagine #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki odinson #loki odinson imagine #loki odinson x reader #loki friggason #god of mischief #god #marvel #Avengers #loki angst #writing challenge

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rose-wine-selfships · 4 years

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💙💙 !!

Thank you @logixlight ! I really appreciate you sending the asks for me. I’m going to do something different. This time it’ll be from a different F/O, Frodo Baggins, and he’s one of my long time fictional crushes from LOTR. So I imagined myself in a couple scenes from his source material. Btw, I’m in my mid twenties and he’s in his early thirties when we first met.

💙 In the first scene, Christina is seen sitting around Elrond’s council in Rivendell. She doesn’t make much discussion, but she observes the beings closely around her and watches their body language subtly. Frodo notices her quietly staring off into the distance, potentially thinking about other matters. He whispers to Aragorn,”Who is she? I haven’t met her kind before. Is she a human like you?”

“No, I hear she is not of this world. I don’t know much of her origins and she seems to have unusual powers akin to Gandalf the Grey’s. I heard that she wishes to join our party as the tenth walker. It is up to Elrond now whether he will approve of her merging into our Fellowship.”

“Really?” Frodo muses. ’She’s rather pretty’ he murmurs to himself and catches himself staring at her for way too long. Christina notices the gesture, and her eyes widen and softly flutter in curiosity at the petite brunette hobbit with azure-like irises. Frodo can feel his face grow hot and he quickly turns his head away before she can notice the ever growing blush all over his soft cheeks.

As the meeting drew to a close, tensions arose. Everyone was arguing with everyone over whether to destroy the ring, take it back, or get rid of it any other way. Christina was an empath, and she could sense the fierce tension growing between all the beings at the meeting. Elves, dwarves, wizards, humans and hobbits screaming at each other, and she could feel their anger, their hopelessness, and the dreary powerful effects of the one ring. The atmosphere felt like pieces of extremely sharp glass piercing into her body all over. She was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. She curled up into her legs, arms underneath in her chair and started breathing shallowly with tears close to falling down.

Frodo noticed this right away, and he had to do something to calm the tension in the air. He couldn’t bear to see this seemingly sweet young woman suffer any longer. This argument seemed to be like literal torture to her! He stood up and yelled,” I will take it! I will take the ring to Mordor!”

Everyone stopped yelling…they all slowly turned to see a scrawny, perky, and spunky 4’11 adult hobbit boldly declare his intent. After his declaration, there was much calmer debate about how Frodo was going to carry out this plan. Eldrond decided to give Christina one more chance to join, but he warned her that there’s no such thing as merciful people in battle. Once the meeting was over, he wandered cautiously over to Christina’s chair.

“H-hello there.” he said gently,” are you feeling alright?”

“Yes…I think so,” she breathed out shakily and raspy.

Her breathing slowly came back to normal, but her tears were falling down her now red-stained cheeks. She wiped them away swiftly and tried to look as calm as possible, but it was in vain.

“Don’t worry,” Frodo said soothingly,”it’s hard to adjust to this world, even when you’re a hobbit. To be honest, I’m rather glad you’re joining our Fellowship. We do need more companions on our journey. My name’s Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo Baggins. What’s your name?”

Christina gathered herself a moment, before she slowly replied,” Christina Flatleigh, daughter of Patrio Flatleigh.” She turned her head to look up into his eyes again, and smiled softly. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“T’was nothing.” He said shyly before turning his head away, hand over his other arm, once again trying to hide the redness all over his face.

💙 In the second scene, Frodo, Sam and Christina have finally thrown the ring into Mount Doom and the volcano finally erupts. As we lay into the ashes on a temporarily safe rock, all of us seemingly say our goodbyes. Frodo thanks Sam for being the best friend he ever had, and that he wishes he could have seen The Shire again. Sam reminds him that The Shire will always be near, and that Sam will marry Rosie Cotton one day. I thank both Frodo and Sam for being so kind to me, and that I’ll forever be in their debt for looking out for me.

Before she blacked out, Frodo turns to her and says hoarsely,” Christina, I’ve always loved you. Even when we met in Rivendell, I could tell you were different from the rest of us in the Fellowship years ago. But your differences, to me, I always found so beautiful in you.”

Her eyes widen a bit in shock over what she was hearing. She couldn’t believe that the timid, yet strong-willed hobbit she loved and cared for on this journey, returned her feelings.

Frodo continued, on the verge of tears,” If you ever feel the same for me…if we ever make it alive, I promise you, I will marry you—in The Shire. Then we can start a life—anew together, my love.”

Happy tears spilled out from her eyes, “Yes! Yes I will marry you! I love you so much!” Her voice was cracked and broken from the volcano heat, but Frodo could hear her loud and clear. He reached out for her hand, and with what little strength he could muster held onto her hand and turned his head towards hers to look into her eyes for seemingly one last time.

Until the giant eagles came, and Gandalf whispered to them to pick them all up and save them. All three of them blacked out soon after that. After a few days of recovery in The Shire, Frodo, Sam, and Christina have fulfilled their promises on the verge of death itself. Sam married Rosie Cotton, and it was a huge wedding to celebrate for. Frodo and Christina were nominated as best man and maid of honor at the wedding.

A few weeks later, Frodo proposed to Christina and it was an extremely joyous occasion. Their wedding started soon after that. Beings from all over Middle Earth came to see the wedding. Almost everyone from the original Fellowship attended the wedding; Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf the White, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and even Bilbo came along. Unfortunately, Aragorn was a king of Gondor, so he couldn’t really attend, but he sent beautiful wedding gifts to Frodo and Christina.

Years later, Frodo still felt pain from many physical enemy wounds, as well as PTSD from the events. The pain was so bad, and it made him so weary, that even Christina’s magical empathic nature could never heal the wounds that scarred him from his journey. Frodo couldn’t take anymore and had to board the Elven ship to The Undying Lands. Christina boarded with Frodo, since she couldn’t imagine a day living without him. So they sailed together into new foreign lands and continued their married life until the end of their days in the afterlife.

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lovemesomerobobois · 4 years

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Okay, so LL megs are trapped in a cave in, megs is tuck so s/o starts mining, like, real mining and they’re pretty good, turns out they just learned how to mine because they were originally high class and feel sick with themselves with what miners had to go through so... yeah? Maybe some self hate because they just hate that they where such high class snobs and they’re terrible at anything they needs work??? Idk I’m sorryyyh XD

Okay, so i feel like this is some heavy shit and they would totally talk about it before hand, so like, is developing relationship okay? That’s what I’m going with, but i can change it too. BTW, love this idea!!!!

Rated G, not very soft and fluffy. . . sorry

Their little escapade was supposed to be reconnaissance only. Ultra Magnus had stressed that well enough before departure. The Lost Light’s planetary scanners were disrupted by the electromagnetic debris in the planet’s atmosphere, but of course that wouldn’t stop Rodimus. He just had to know what was on the thinly-veiled, rocky planet. Abandoned rocky planet.

Surprise, surprise, rocks. Huge red-brown fissures splitting the murky sky, and crawling tunnels burrowing into the planet’s core.

Megatron and his newfound partner (their courting had been declared only a week earlier) had split off from the group of Bots exploring the surface to poke around the tunnels. The two walked in companionable quiet, listening for any strange sounds that might indicate danger. Who knew what odd creatures dwelled in the dark ahead of them).

A mile or so deep, Megatron stopped to examine a corroded box of sorts that was tucked into the shadows. He’d noticed the scars in the surrounding rock earlier, the silver marks where tools once struck, but so far the mine appeared barely tapped. Megatron didn’t have to call for his partner, they’d already turned towards him, optics wide in the dark. They backtracked and joined him at the box.

Stooping down, they brushed a thick layer of dust away and asked, “Tools, you think?”

They looked up and Megatron thought, for a second, that they looked too innocent to be in a mine, abandoned or not. He nodded and glanced behind him, as if some lone remaining miner was lurking out of sight.

“I am wary,” he started, “of a mine barely touched, yet barren.”

His significant other stood. “We aren’t very far in, though.”

“No, we are not. But do you see any sign of valuable minerals?”

“No, but—”

The tunnel trembled, scattering small chunks of rock and kicking up dust. Without thinking, Megatron threw himself on top of his partner and clutched them tight, his frame the only shield they had. The roar of the quake and falling rock was so deafening that, when everything stilled again, there was an incessant ringing in both bots’ audials.

“Megatron?”

The voice was muffled and he wasn’t certain that someone had spoken until something moved under him. They said his name again, like they were summoning him from Deep Space, but instead of floating in nothingness, he was pinned down. He turned his helm and met familiar optics. He blinked slow, convincing himself that his lover wasn’t a hallucination.

They wriggled from underneath him, fighting debris as they did. Thankfully, they weren’t injured and managed to dig their way to a small pocket of space, a miniature cave in the collapsed tunnel.

“Can you hear me?” they called.

Megatron groaned, hoping they heard. Only minutes later, a sound from his nightmares rang out, louder than the ringing in his helm. It came again and he shuddered, diverting his attention to the pain in his legs and the pins and needles gathering in his joints. He teetered on the line of consciousness and emptiness, and he wasn’t sure what his reality looked like anymore. Was there someone chipping away at the rubble crushing him, or was that a demon from his past announcing its approach?

_ POV SHIFT cuz. . . yeah :)

With every swing of the pickaxe, Megatron’s partner pushed on. They had to reach him, no matter how much rock and broken earth stood in the way. They remembered their first cave-in. An early detonation on the surface had sent shocks down into the mineshaft they were working in. Three mechs died, and they —the rookie— were trapped with the others’ corpses. They cringed to think how long they would’ve been left down there had their sire not been in the Senate.

They swung extra hard, relishing the burn in their shoulders. They took a break to send out another distress signal to anyone in range and check on Megatron.

“Megatron, are you awake?”

No response.

“I’ve got to be close,” they muttered to themself.

“A miner,” Megatron managed, “but you knew Senator Proteus.” His voice, warped with pain, echoed what little distance there was left between them. Of course he knew about his partner’s old Senate connections, but only on a superficial level.

“I. . .” How could they explain this to Megatron? Their relationship was only budding, and full disclosure hadn’t been a condition of their courting, but it felt wrong to keep this from him. They opted for insufficiency. “I wasn’t a miner. Not like you.”

They returned to their work and Megatron returned to his plagued silence.

Finally, finally, Megatron was uncovered and, by some miracle, the tunnel hadn’t collapsed from all the movement. His legs were ruined, mangled and completely useless. So, without a word, his partner propped him up against a sloped rockwall and continued their work, desperate for an escape route. It was difficult ignoring Megatron’s unabashed gaze, his evaluating and cynical optics.

“You move like a miner,” he said, “but you aren’t a miner.” The question in the statement was clear.

His partner didn’t stop chipping away at the rock. “I was born into the upper class.”

“And your connection to Proteus?”

They couldn’t tell if Megatron was furious or hoarse from the dust.

“My sire, but I’m a bastard child.” As if that remedied anything. They paused to chance a glimpse of Megatron. Flat face, impossible to read. “I hated it, every second of it.”

He snorted. “You hated your privilege? I pity you.” Angry, definitely angry.

His partner, though they doubted that title would be lasting much longer, slipped on their next swing. The blade of the pickaxe snapped off its base and skittered off the rock, slashing the back of their servo. They dropped the handle and sank to the ground.

“I couldn’t stand watching the lower classes struggle while grandeur was a commonality for me. So, I blackmailed Proteus.” They couldn’t look up, wouldn’t dare meet Megatron’s gaze. “I was young and naive, making demands about an equality I knew nothing about. Proteus muzzled me, but I was dumb and stubborn. Behind his and my carrier’s backs I snuck into the mines and worked, just one of the numbers. I documented everything I witnessed, but even after it was published, nothing changed.” Recounting it all made them feel dirty and they hung their helm. “I wasn’t going to let my socioeconomic standing blind me to the horrors that so many others experienced daily.”

Megatron said nothing for a while. When he did speak, it was a sort of hush, but no less powerful than his normal tone. “What you found in the mines was truth, yet you would have never found it had you not flaunted your privilege.” He took a slow, grating breath. “So tell me, what good came of it all?”

They risked making eye contact. There was no rage in Megatron’s optics, only the exhaustion of a mech who’s lived a thousand lives.

“What good comes from anything?”

Megatron thought a moment then beckoned them closer and took their bleeding servo. He examined the wound before pulling a cloth and bandage from his subspace and doctoring it. His grip was warm and careful.

His partner watched him work. “What good did come of it?” they asked.

“Every time I believe I know, it is only my imagination.” He finished wrapping their servo and tugged them closer. “There is no shame in not having an answer,” he said.

The two leaned against one another in quiet contemplation, lost to themselves and only existing in their relation to the other. Mining could wait.

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pennylanefics · 5 years

Text

Deserve the World - Dennis Severs

a/n: this was requested by @primaba11erina and this is also the last request i will be taking. my requests are officially closed, feel free to ask why if you didn’t see my post from the other day, but i’m done. also this...kinda sucks btw. sorry, i tried :(

•••

A lot can happen within three years. For you and Dennis, that happened to be a lot. Throughout your relationship, you’ve been together when the Churchill Estate fire was set, to when he entered White Watch, go through so much distress and mental problems, fighting with his mom, his dad returning, and finally leaving White Watch for another team. He went through so much, and you could tell he was now in a better place. That also might be because you are currently pregnant with his son and are due soon.

Since it’s December, you and Dennis decided to set up a tree in the corner of your shared apartment, which is really the flat that Dennis and his mom lived in before she moved out. You are about thirty-eight weeks pregnant, getting closer and closer to your due date, so you can’t help much too much, but Dennis doesn’t mind.

When you two finish setting the tree up, the sky is now dark and the only light is the twinkling lights on the tree. You and Dennis stand in front of it, admiring all of the personal ornaments decorating the branches. Dennis stands behind you, resting his hands on your protruding stomach, rubbing over it gently, feeling your son kick his hands.

“I can’t wait for him to get here,” Dennis whispers in you ear, pressing a soft kiss directly below it. You hum and close your eyes, leaning into his touch and resting your exhausted body against his.

“Me neither. He’s gonna look so much like you.” Dennis laughs lightly and shakes his head.

“I have a feeling he’ll have your eyes because they’re so beautiful. And he’ll have your lips.”

“No, he’s going to be a mini you, for sure.” You two have yet to decide on a name, choosing to do so once he’s born so you can make sure that he fits it well. So, you’ve just been saying he and him.

“Fancy taking a bath before bed?” He asks, gently pulling you towards the bathroom.

“You know I’d never say no to a bath with you.”

It was now a day before your due date, you were strictly on bed rest for the time being, and Dennis was waiting on you hand and foot. At the end of the day, the two of you were laying on the couch together, Dennis laying between your legs, his hands pressed to your exposed bump as he softly runs his fingertips over it, smiling every now and then when he felt his son’s little feet poke out of your skin.

“I wonder what he’ll be like when he grows up. If he’ll want to be a firefighter like me or if he’ll want to be a businessman, or even a musician,” Dennis wonders as you run your hands through his hair, watching as he leans up to kiss your stomach.

“Yeah, I wonder too.”

“I can’t wait for you to get here, bubba. We wanna meet you already, so please hurry,” Dennis tells your bump, causing you to laugh.

“He’ll be here soon enough, Den. You’ve waited nine months, I’m sure you can wait a day or two.”

And he did.

Three days later, specifically two weeks before Christmas, you gave birth to a healthy baby boy, Lincoln Dennis Severs. Although, your delivery wasn’t easy. You had to have an emergency c-section after over a day of labor, which of course scared both you and Dennis, but you and the baby made it out safely, and everything was fine. But because of this, you decided to stay home for the holiday, mainly so you could recover, and so you three could spend your first holiday together as a family after such a scary event.

Christmas arrived pretty quickly, and Dennis was up early to get a head start on preparing dinner for you two. He gave you the chance to sleep in, considering you hadn’t had much sleep within the last couple weeks.

When you finally woke up, you noticed it was snowing out, a perfect start to the day.

“Well good morning, my beautiful love,” Dennis greets as you step inside the kitchen, seeing him holding Lincoln while retrieving all the ingredients he would need. You smile softly at your boyfriend and walk towards the two, wrapping your arms around Dennis from behind.

“Has he been up for long?” You ask after pressing a kiss to Dennis’ shoulder.

“No, he’s been up for about ten minutes. Been enjoying watching me get everything ready.” You laugh and move to face him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, then kissing Lincoln’s head gently.

“Do you want me to take him so you can start cooking?” You reach out for Lincoln, and Dennis gladly hands you your son.

“Thanks, love. Why don’t you go rest in the living room and I’ll call you in when lunch is ready, yeah?”

“Would you mind making me a turkey sandwich for lunch?” You plead, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes. Dennis chuckles and nods, pushing you lightly in the direction of the living room.

“Of course, baby. Anything for you. Do you want me to put a movie on?”

“Yes please. Put on Home Alone.” After Dennis sets the movie up, he quickly gives you a sweet kiss then returns to the kitchen to start dinner.

Lunch came and passed, you and Lincoln continuing to watch Christmas movies and cuddle together on the couch. Close to dinner, he fell asleep, so you decided to lay him down and get some rest yourself.

Once Dennis is finished with dinner, he makes a plate for you while you breastfeed Lincoln, and he quickly joins you on the couch to watch Elf. But, Dennis can’t help but stare and watch you feed your son instead of feed himself. You feel his intense gaze on you, so you look up.

“What?” You wonder. Dennis just shakes his head and as his eyes continue to roam all over you.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he mumbled, his eyes landing on his son attached to your breast. “Such a beautiful thing women can do.”

“I look awful, Den.”

“No, you don’t. You look fucking amazing, sorry for the language, but you really are.” He sounded so sincere, it almost made you cry. All you could do was shake your head in disbelief at how lucky you are to be with such an amazing man.

After you two finish dinner and the movie, Dennis lets you take a nap and watches over Lincoln for the time being.

Dennis’ POV:

(Y/N) had just fallen asleep right after I turned the lights off, keeping the Christmas tree lights on, so I decided to have a little alone time with Lincoln. I put a crescent-shaped pillow on my lap and laid him on it, smiling down at him with wide eyes to get a reaction.

“Hey little man! It’s your very first Christmas already. It’s crazy to think about how two weeks ago you were still in mummy’s stomach. Now you’re here.” I know he wasn’t going to understand me, but I didn’t care.

“I’m going to try and be there for you as much as I can, okay? I’m not gonna be like my dad at all. But, it may be hard with my job and all. You see, I fight fires and save people. I’m still wondering if you’re gonna want to follow in my footsteps when you grow up. I really hope you do because even though it’s a tiring job, it’s a great feeling, being able to save someone.” Lincoln stares up at me with his big blue eyes and I can’t help but tear up. This is my son, the son I made with the most beautiful woman on this earth.

“You are so damn precious, bubba. I’m going to protect you for the rest of my life and make sure nothing bad ever happens. I promise we’ll be out of this horrible flat soon and move to a nicer neighborhood and a nicer living space. I want the best for you and your mum, and I may not be able to give you guys the world, but I sure as hell am going to try because you both deserve it.” At this point, my voice was starting to crack as I got more and more emotional as I kept talking. So, I pause and just admire Lincoln. He must have sensed something was wrong because he gave me a huge toothless grin, one that made my heart skip a beat and the tears finally fall down my face.

“I am already so in love with you, bub. I can’t believe I’m a dad.” After I talked to him for a few more minutes, he started to yawn, so I picked him up from the pillow and held him against my chest, immediately getting an idea.

Your POV:

You woke up a couple hours later, feeling much more rested and better. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark living room, which was lit by the tree only, and your heart soars when they land on the sight in the recliner in the corner of the room.

Dennis had the footrest up and was laying back, his shirt stripped and in a pile on the floor. His hands held onto Lincoln’s bare back, the baby’s face pressed against Dennis’ shoulder, peacefully sleeping. Although it was snowing and well below twenty degrees outside, your building had relatively well heating, so inside was always toasty warm during the winter. So, you knew they weren’t too cold or in any type of danger.

Slowly, you raise from your spot, being mindful of your healing stomach, and make your way to stand next to the chair. You gently shake Dennis’ shoulder to wake him, as much as you didn’t want to, Lincoln needed to sleep in his own bed as to not make a bad habit.

“Den, honey,” you whisper, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb. He sighs deeply, eyes opening slightly and smiling once he sees your awake.

“Hi mummy. Have a nice nap?” You chuckle and nod your head, trailing your hand down his cheek and to his neck.

“I did, thank you for letting me sleep. And I see you took advantage of that as well. But, we need to put him in his crib.” Dennis carefully sits up and kicks the footrest in, walking over to the crib near the heater in the living room. Once he sets the baby in and covers him, Dennis makes his way back over to you, pulling you to lay back down in the recliner with him. He is careful not to press too hard on your scar, but holds you as close to him as possible.

“What were you doing before, eh?” You glance up at him, waiting for a response. His cheeks flush as he smiles softly.

“The uh, the doctors told me about skin on skin, and that it would make our bond strong from the beginning, so I wanted to try that. I want to have a good relationship with him, I don’t want him to hate me or anything.”

“Den, he’s only two weeks old, he won’t hate you until he’s well into being a teenager,” you joke lightly, caressing his cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

“I know, but still.” You don’t respond, instead place your head on his chest, breathing in the smell of his cologne, surprisingly not mixed with cigarettes.

“Hey, I have something for you,” Dennis tells you after a few minutes of cuddling.

“I know we said we weren’t giving each other presents, but considering you gave me the best gift in the entire world, bringing our son into the world, I couldn’t resist. Although nothing can compare to what you gave me.” You move off of him and sit in the recliner, watching as he disappears into the kitchen, an odd place to keep a present. He emerges with nothing, confusing you, but takes his seat once again, this time you sit on his lap.

“Den?” You wonder. He just smiles, reaches into his pajama pocket, and pulls out a key, handing it to you.

“This is a key to our new flat,” he simply says. Your eyes widen as you look at him, trying to see if he’s telling the truth. When he just nods, seeming to understand your burning question, you can’t help but well up with tears.

“It’s in a nicer part of town, closer to my station so I don’t have to drive forty-five minutes every day and night, and the apartment building is friendly and very nice. We have a three bedroom, two bath apartment with a spacious living room and a spacious kitchen. Much nicer than this dump.”

“What? Dennis this is amazing!” You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him with so much love.

“I want the best for you and Linc, you two deserve it. He doesn’t deserve to grow up here, where I dealt with so much pain and heartbreak, he deserves some place happy. And, I didn’t want to bring this up to scare you, but Gog still lives around here. I don’t want him trying to hurt our baby out of spite towards me.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he’s still around.”

“Yep. I knew that we soon had to leave here after the baby was born, I didn’t want you moving stuff while pregnant. Oh! I have one more present for you!” Dennis suddenly picks you up from his lap, gently setting you back down on the chair, and running off to your shared room this time. You laugh and shake your head at his crazy behavior, although it makes you fall in love with him even more.

Moments later, he returns, yet again, with nothing in his hands. You raise your eyebrows, ready to question him one more time, but that thought is quickly forgotten when Dennis suddenly gets down on one knee in front of you. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, opening it with shaky hands.

“You mean the absolute world to me, (Y/N). I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you when you stuck around to support me through the Churchill Estate fire, and getting thrown out of White Watch. You have always been there for me, and I cannot thank you enough. I love you so damn much, so will you marry me?” His eyes shone with tears as he waited, watching as you examine the ring he picked out with a co-worker around the time you told him you were pregnant.

“Yes, Den. I will marry you,” you choke out through the sobs you struggled to keep down. A huge smile takes over his features as he stands and pulls you up, picking you up and spinning you around the room. Your combined laughs fill the air, something that you can’t wait for in your new apartment. After he sets you down, he slides the ring onto your finger, both of you watching as it sparkles under the twinkling lights of the tree.

“I love you so much, Dennis. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” you whisper, bringing him in for a kiss.

“I love you too. And I love our son just as much. I’m going to give you two the best that I can, even though you deserve the world.”

“I already have the world. I have you and I have Lincoln. I don’t need anything else to be happy, Den.” He grins softly, kissing you once more before pulling you down on the couch.

“You’re amazing.”

For the rest of the night, you and Dennis watched even more Christmas movies, and talking about your future together. From how you would decorate the apartment, to who you think Lincoln would grow up to be like, and even about the future children you plan to have. All in all, it was an exceptionally special first Christmas for the three of you, as a family.

•••

taglist: @loveharrington @toky-9101 @buck-barn @butlegendsneverdie @tarons-mercury @1-800-fandomsdestroyedme

#dennis severs #dennis severs imagines #dennis severs x reader #dennis asbo severs #the smoke #taron egerton #taron imagines #taron x reader #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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chwetuan · 5 years

Text

Champagne at Sunset - Choi Youngjae x Reader (f)

1. Requested: hi z! i hope you’ve been doing alright! if it’s ok can i request a fake dating au with youngjae? like with some angst but it ends fluffy? love your writing btw ! (anon)

2. Summary: Youngjae knows you like the back of his hand. He also knows that there were about ten other ways he could’ve asked you to be his fake girlfriend, but he wouldn’t choose any of them if the outcome were different (<1k).

3. Warnings: Fluff and possibly language, soft angst.

4. A/N - I’m back! Quality over quantity...and consistency? Anyways, this is more of a drabble that leaves a bit for you guys to wonder about. Enjoy <3 - Z

Two friends walk into a bar, and for a moment, things are normal.

The heated, packed feeling of the room is a stark juxtaposition with the cool metal of the stool against your thighs. The music is a little too low, the people are a little too loud, and the drinks are a little too strong. They come cheap, a happy hour on a Monday evening as people flood the booths, tables, and couches with tired, tense bodies.

Youngjae sits next to you, black slacks snug at the bend of his leg and white button down rolled up to his elbow. He’s bouncing his knee, a nervous habit he’s harbored since his youth, as he takes a sip of his beer.

He knows you like the back of his hand, scars and all. A friendship of 15 years just doesn’t fade into your subconscious; not when you’ve grown together — rode bikes, climbed trees, snuck out, gotten drunk, and failed one too many algebra tests.

Picking up your phone, you answer a few texts before checking the time. 6:04pm.

“Shouldn’t your friends be here now?” You ask, taking a sip of your beer and turning to face him.

Youngjae said a few coworkers would join you guys, which was a little less than normal, but no cause for concern.

After all, everything had been normal thus far.

Everything is normal, but things get a little strange when he pulls your stool closer to his own.

“About that,” He pauses, hand coming up to grip your shoulder. It’s firm, not hard, and in a split second, you register that you’re not going to like whatever he’s about to say.

Things are quiet - as quiet as they can get in a bar like this — before he speaks again. “I told them that you’re my girlfriend.”

~~~

The car ride back to your apartment is nothing like the usual. Instead of loud laughs, stupid jokes, and off-key sing-alongs, the drive consists of you glaring at him while he struggles to keep his eyes on the road.

Youngjae thinks he’s sly when he steals his glances, or when his eyes linger on you longer than deemed necessary.

“Usually, when friends invite you for a drink, they don’t have alternative agendas.” You hiss, stepping through the threshold of your too small, too cold, apartment. Your bitter tone is made obvious as you shrug your blazer off.

You hear the clutter of keys as they hit the countertop.

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“I owe you one?” You echo, incredulously. “How about an explanation? I thought this was one of our regular bar runs.” You scoff, a little more than irritated as you kick off your heels. Your back is to him as you continue speaking. “Then you say your coworkers are coming, and oh, they think you’re my girlfriend.”

Turning to face him, you finish your mini rant. “Youngjae, I love you, and I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not your girlfriend.”

The words sting him deep down in a way he isn’t fully ready to acknowledge. The reminder that you don’t feel the same way about him is always in the back of his mind, like a hook to a song he doesn’t quite know, yet, the one line is always stuck in his head.

But whether or not you have feelings for him, Youngjae doesn’t have the time to deal with the particulars. Even though his mind is clouded with thoughts of you, and him, and the possibility of you guys together, he pushes it to the side as he responds.

“You aren’t, but you were tonight, and you will be next weekend. Hopefully.”

~~~

When Youngjae said wedding, you didn’t think this.

Frankly, your dress was little too overpriced and little more on the uncomfortable side, but Youngjae’s palm against your waist and the burn of champagne down your throat made the circumstance a little more bearable.

As much as you wanted to positively fight Youngjae, you couldn’t deny how the apples of your cheeks ached from smiling, and how his kisses against them made your heart flutter more than it was supposed to.

But as you sit on the dock, heels at your side and dress bunched up so you can feel the cool water against your bare feet, you muse out loud.

“Being your fake girlfriend isn’t so bad. If you had just asked me from the start, I wouldn’t have been opposed.”

He hums as a blush crawls up his cheeks, down his neck and to the tips of his ears. He’s thankful for the pink glow of the sunset at that moment.

“Do you remember Valentine’s Day in 4th grade?” You ask, sighing as you scoot closer to him, head falling against his shoulder.

“No, not really.” Youngjae doesn’t know why his voice is so quiet all of a sudden.

“I figured.”

“Why?”

“I wrote you a letter that year,” You start, eyes watching as the sun begins to duck beyond the horizon. “It was anonymous. I worked so hard on it. It was purple and pink, and had a huge red heart in the center.”

“Wait, you’ve never written me a valentines letter in the entire time that I’ve known you.”

“I did, Youngjae. Who was your first girlfriend?”

He furrows his eyebrows, lips tugged between his teeth as he responds. “Lauren Peters, she was in our 4th grade class.”

You hum.

“She wrote me a card asking if I would be her boyfriend.”

“Exactly.”

There’s silence between you, and you're desperately hoping that Youngjae will put two and two together, but the solution never comes.

You sigh again, turning all of your attention to him. “She never wrote you that card, Youngjae. I did. I think I’ve always been in love with you.”

~~~

The drive back to your apartment this time is also not the usual, with Youngjae’s hand in your own and the remnants of champagne kisses at sunset on your lips.

(mlist)

#are childhood!friends aus my new thing or no #anyways still this this is cuteee :(#hope you enjoy it anon #choi youngjae #got7 youngjae #got7 reactions #got7 scenarios #got7 fanfiction #got7 imagines #youngjae x reader #choi youngjae x reader #choi youngjae imagines #got7 drabbles #kpop drabbles #got7 fluff #youngjae fluff #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios

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sassycassie-s-writing · 6 years

Text

Motus Cicatrice

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood, feat. Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Bruce Wayne/Batman, & Clark Kent/Superman

Rating: PG-13 (for mentions of murder/killing/major character death)

Original Idea: Just came up with it probably in the shower. Though the scars come from a Pinterest prompt and popular Sanders Sides headcanons for Virgil. Who doesn’t love a little Jason Todd angst? Hmm?

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) The title is pronounced, “Moe-TUSS, cik-uh-TREE-chay” (sort of, it’s Latin and that’s the best I could write it out). Shout out to Google Translate. You’ll see what it means. BTW, this one is LOOOONG! @welovegroot

“Motus Cicatrice”

^^^^^

"Y'alright, Bruce? You seem very quiet," Clark asked.

"Fine," Bruce grunted.

"Bruce? What's… wrong?" Diana pressed gently.

"Nothing," Bruce retorted, grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw. He pulled his cape more securely over his shoulders and sat heavily at one of the Watchtower's computers. Diana and Clark exchanged a glance behind his back. Diana bounced an eyebrow. She set her hands on Bruce and Clark's shoulders before leaving the room. Deciding that a moody, broody Batman wasn't a battle she wanted to fight. Clark just stood there.

Bruce sighed.

"What do you want, Clark?" he snapped.

"For you to tell me what's wrong, Bruce," Clark answered, sitting cross-legged three feet aboveground. "We're your friends. Don't push us away."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You can't lie to me, Batman. Your heartbeat is faster and your body is tense---"

Bruce shoved out of his chair, grasped Clark by the front of his cape, and slammed him against the wall of the Watchtower. "Listen, farm boy! I just watched my son watch his girlfriend die in his arms! So excuse me if I'm not in the mood to chat," Batman growled.

Clark gently pried Bruce's hands off his cape and wrapped him up in a hug. "I am so, so sorry, Bruce."

Batman relaxed into the hug. "She was the only thing that really made him happy. He's struggled in darkness for a long time. Then here comes this beam of light into his life. I've never seen him smile and laugh as much as he does when he's with her. She was the light and love of his life. Her death will break him. Again. He's already been through so much. He doesn't deserve this too."

"How… how did it happen?"

"Two-Face. Shot her after flipping a coin. Jason… couldn't get to her in time. Just like I was too late to save him from the Joker when he was fifteen. She was the best thing that ever happened to him. Gone. Just like that. Over a coin toss. She was twenty-one. My son held her and wept as she took her last breath. All I could do was watch."

Clark sighed. He wiped tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, Bruce. Truly I am. I know how much your family means to you."

Batman let go of the hug. "Thanks Clark. I should get back to work."

"Where is your son?"

"Dick's with him at home. The Manor."

Superman nodded as Bruce sat back at the computer. After a moment's hesitation, Clark left.

^^^^^

Jason sat in the parlor of Wayne Manor, holding a framed photo of him and his girlfriend between his hands, staring at it blankly. Dick's arms were hugging him, but he barely noticed. His mind was refusing to believe she was gone. How could she be…? Death usually tended to be temporary for people in this life…

"Little wing? Jay? You alright? Never mind. Dumb question," Dick muttered. He glanced at the photo his brother was holding.

It was Jason and his girlfriend at an amusement park, wearing each other's sunglasses and laughing their heads off. Jason was holding his girlfriend from behind, in a white T-shirt and blue cargo shorts. His girlfriend was wearing a thin white blouse with flowy short sleeves and khaki capris. Her hand was holding onto Jason's arm. It was a candid moment Tim had taken when the whole family had gone out for a day of fun. Alfred had the photo framed.

Jason didn't respond to anything Dick had said. Didn't even move.

"No---NOOO! Come on. Don't die on me. You promised me you wouldn't. C'mon baby---you're gonna be okay. You gotta be. I can't lose you. Please. No. Please!" In his head, Jason heard him pleading with her as her life slowly drained out of her. "Come back to me. Come back!" He heard his own sobbing and kept watching her take her last breath while Two-Face gloated in the background.

He sniffed, eyes tearing up and then spilling over.

"Ohh, little wing," Dick murmured sympathetically, holding his younger brother tighter to him.

Jason turned and pushed his face into Dick's chest, sniffing and letting the tears fall. They soaked into Dick's shirt.

Dick rubbed Jason's back between his shoulder blades. "I know it hurts, Jay. Let it all out. It's okay to hurt."

"I love her. I miss her," Jason managed to say, letting go of the photo with one hand and using that hand to clutch Dick's T-shirt. Dick reached up and set his hand on the back of Jason's head, tugging at the roots of Jason’s hair.

The motion, along with his emotional exhaustion and crying, lulled Jason into a much-needed sleep. Dick eased his brother onto his lap and left him there, pulling out his phone. He's out, he texted to Bruce, Tim, Barbara, and Cassie. I'm just going to sit with him (don't have a choice he's lying on my legs) and let him sleep.

Good idea, Tim replied.

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," Dick said quietly.

A familiar head poked in. "Hey kid," a familiar voice greeted.

Dick smiled. "Hey Clark. What's up?"

"I came to see how your brother was doing. Batman… was a little… shall we say… on edge just now. Told me what happened with the little brother's girlfriend. I wanted to make sure he was okay and making sure someone was there for him. Batman said you were here but I just wanted to make sure."

"You're a good man, Clark, thank you," Dick said quietly.

Clark flew into the room, a few inches off the ground, to keep the floorboards from creaking and waking Jason up. He sat on the armchair across the coffee table from Bruce's eldest sons and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. Clark nodded to Jason's sleeping form. "How is he?"

"Heartbroken. Devastated. Mourning. Has every right to be."

"I know. But will he be okay?"

Dick thought for a moment. "He's gone through a lot," he finally said. "Each bad experience has cracked at him. When Joker killed him, he broke. It took years to put him back together again. I'm afraid… I'm afraid this is going to break him again."

Clark pursed his lips. "Hmm. I know what you mean. What can we do to help him?"

"Love him. Support him. And keep him from murdering Two-Face." Dick paused. "Maybe have Diana talk to him. He was always a huge admirer of hers. Plus Jason has always listened to and respected women far more than any man." He twisted a loose lock of Jason's hair around his finger as he pondered.

Clark made an interested expression. "That I can manage," he said. He got up and drifted to a corner of the parlor. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. Dick went back to looking at his.

"Diana, hey, it's me. It's Clark…"

Dick scratched at an itch on his nose and gently tugged the photo out of Jason's limp hand. His own elbow---in a light blue T-shirt---was in the corner of the picture since he'd tried to photobomb the shot. He smiled at it. Remembering all the times she'd made his little brother happy. Though, little wasn't the term to describe Jason and hadn't been for a long while. Younger was probably better.

"Come ON, babe! It'll be fun!" Jason's voice exclaimed to his girlfriend in Dick's memory. He heard her laugh, as clearly as he could hear Clark on the phone with Diana.

"No WAY, Jay! I'm NOT going to get myself injured!" her voice retorted playfully.

Dick glanced down at the back of Jason's head. "You deserve to be happy, little wing," he murmured quietly. "Why do these things keep happening to you?"

Jason, however, was still asleep and didn't respond.

Clark murmured a few more things to Diana through his phone before hanging up and returning to the armchair. "She said she'll be over as soon as possible," he told Dick.

"Thanks Clark."

Jason suddenly cried out in anguish, breaking the relative silence of the parlor as a single convulsion wracked his body. Dick leaned forward, trying to see his younger brother's face---but ended up getting headbutted as Jason sat up abruptly. He shouted and clawed at his shirt, trying to tear it off.

Clark jumped over the coffee table, grabbed the hem of Jason's shirt, and pulled it off, leaving Jason bare-chested.

Dick gasped.

Marring his brother's chest was a long, thick, angry red scar. Jason had many scars---all over his body---but this one was the worst. And it hadn't been there earlier that day. He'd never been injured like that before.

Dick reached out as though to touch it, but withdrew before his fingers even reached Jason's chest.

Jason clutched at the injury, panting through clenched teeth and groaning with pain.

Dick looked in askance to Clark, hoping the older alien would, somehow, have an answer for where the scar appeared from. Clark's eyes met Dick's---a young man whom he'd long considered to be something akin to family, whose eyes were full of fear and worry---but didn't have any answers in them.

Dick pulled Jason back into a hug by the shoulders and squeezed him. Jason's breath came in ragged gasps. He'd been shot two inches from his heart and hadn't cried a single tear, nor had he made much more than a grunt of complaint.

To see Jason in so much pain that he was actively tearing up and clinging to his big brother looking for any sort of relief broke Dick's heart.

"What's going on here?" a familiar voice demanded from the door.

Dick looked up. "B! He just… he was asleep, and then he shot up and was trying to get his shirt off and once Clark removed it there was a massive scar there and it looks fresh but he hasn't ever had a chest injury this bad!" Dick explained.

Bruce came over and gently peeled Jason's face out of Dick's chest so he could get a look at Jason's chest. Bruce let out a surprised exhale. "He has motus cicatrice," he said.

"Come again?" Dick asked as Jason fell back against Dick's chest. Dick's arms wrapped around his brother instinctively.

"It's an extremely rare condition. The Latin name is directly translated as 'Scarring Emotions' or 'Emotion Scars.' Emotional pain leaving physical scars on the body," Bruce explained. "There hasn't been a recorded or reported case in over one-hundred years." He rested his hand on the back of Jason's head. "How's the pain, lad? Need a painkiller?"

At first, Jason didn't even move. His hand was clutching his chest and his panting was still ragged.

Then he sagged. "Y-yeah," he managed to get out.

Clark vanished for a moment and then reappeared, a bottle of painkillers in his hand.

Jason downed the exact amount to dull the pain in his chest, counting them very precisely. He never took any drugs if he could help it. He slumped against Dick's side, leaning on his big brother for support both physically and emotionally in a way he hadn't done since… never.

"How come we never noticed before?" Dick asked Bruce.

Bruce shrugged. "Because we're all covered in scars anyway. And after Jason's experience with the Lazarus Pit most of his physical scars from his childhood emotional trauma went away with his near-perfect revival. And then anything else just built up with his other scars. Unless you keep meticulous track of his injuries---"

"Pretty sure you're the only one who does that with your own," Clark muttered to Bruce.

"---you wouldn't notice. What's one new scar on a body full of them?"

Dick slung Jason's arm over his shoulder and pulled his much heavier brother to his feet. "C'mon, little wing. Let's get you to bed. You'll feel better in the morning," he said.

He helped Jason up to his room and helped his brother get in bed.

"I just… I can't believe she's gone," Jason rasped.

"I know. And I know it hurts. And it's okay to let it hurt. But right now, you need sleep. And no sneaking out to go shoot Two-Face, you hear?" Dick replied, ruffling his brother's hair. "I'll be right next-door if you need me."

"Mm," Jason grunted, rolling on his side and falling asleep again.

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newtandaris · 7 years

Text

Stone Cold Heart - Minho x (y/n)

Hey can you do a longer imagine where Y/N has been a runner for a while and she has been stuck in the maze for a night and survived but her friend that was with her died. So now she is brutally sarcastic and stone cold. When Mihno comes up they don't get along but the he finds her breaking down and comforts her, please!! BTW I love your writing. Requested by @fandomingforever.

Word Count: 2253

Warnings: PTSD mention

Flashback

You were running like your life depended on it. In fact, it did depend on it. You were being chased by a griever and trying very hard not to slip and fall on the very large puddles of water spread around the maze. You thought back to how this had happened. You had thought you’d found a way out but it had just led to a dead end. Your partner had taken a different route and you told each other to meet at a specific spot. You were heading towards there but you didn’t spot him. Once you got there you spotted a limp body. You covered your mouth in horror. You looked towards the sky and noticed it darkening. The body moved and groaned. You gasped in surprise. The griever was coming right around the corner. Your first instinct was to run but then you remembered that your partner had displayed signs of life. You couldn’t just leave him. You dragged him to a nearby vine covered wall and shoved him underneath. Then you climbed in after him. He sat up and rubbed his head. You checked his body cautiously to make sure there were no griever stings. Luckily you found none. You held your breath as the griever moved past you swiftly. You turned to your partner. “What happened?”

“I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The way out.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Where is it?” You asked shaking him slightly. He mumbled incoherently. You shook him harder. “Where is it?!” You demanded.

He opened his mouth to respond but was pulled back suddenly by a strong force. Suddenly he was face to face with a griever. “Run (y/n)!” He yelled.

You wanted to scream and yell, “I’m not leaving you!” Unfortunately, you knew how headstrong he was and how right he was. It was foolish to stay and get killed. The gladers had no use for two dead runners. Plus, you needed to get back to the maze doors before they closed. With a reluctant sigh, you turned and ran for your life. Drowning out the screams of your partner you ran and ran and ran, your vision slightly blurred due to the tears forming at the corners of your eyes. Finally, you made it to the maze doors to find them already closing. Your best friend Newt stood at the other end struggling against the grip of the other gladers to get to you.

”(y/n)!” he screamed. “Run!”

This seemed to snap you out of your trance while the maze doors were closing and inching closer together every second. You frantically ran towards the entrance only to have the doors close only seconds before you reached it. That was it. You broke down crying and screaming and banging your fists against the maze doors until they were bloody and bruised. You heard Newt putting up a fight at the other side, his screams echoing throughout the dark maze.

Present Time

Newt put his hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

You turned to face him and nodded. He seemed to sense that your emotions were far from fine. He could only imagine the horrors you must have been through. Hell, he’d been a runner himself and he still couldn’t shake his nightmares away at night. He engulfed you in a warm hug, gently rubbing your back to calm you.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now. I know you’ve been thinking about that night but it’s all behind you now.”

“He knew where the exit was Newt. I could have sacrificed myself so he could live. So he could tell you how to get out of here. You could have all been safe. You never would have injured your leg. It’s all my fault.”

“Shhh. No. Don’t say that. He didn’t die because of you. I chose to do what I did. Nothing was your fault.” Newt said, trying to calm you down.

“Newt!” Alby called from across the glade. Newt’s head shot up quickly when he remembered that the box was coming up today.

“Come on.” Newt said, pulling you with him towards the center of the glade. You followed him and stood at the edge of the box waiting for it to come up. Suddenly the familiar rattle of the rusty old metal came into sight. The box opened to reveal a tall Asian boy with black hair. You stared at him and he stared right back. Your first thought was, “Boy does this kid have guts or what?” Most of the people couldn’t hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds because of your detached persona and constant sarcastic comments. You were well aware of the reputation you had built of yourself. It was all part of the act you put on to tell yourself you were alright. If everyone thought you were normal no one would care to find out who was crying in the middle of the night. Not even Newt knew about your nighttime breakdowns. The kid kept on looking at you. You scowled at his face and turned away. You walked away from the box entirely. You watched from a safe distance as the others pulled the kid from his dazed state in the box and set him on his feet. He looked around. Surprisingly his face didn’t show any fear. He looked calm and knowing. You hated that stupid look on his face. In fact, you hated him. You didn’t know why but something about him seemed familiar and you didn’t like it one bit. He looked around and soon his eyes landed on your figure, sitting in the distance. Your eyes looked into his and he sent you a smirk. You hated that you flushed red at this. You looked away quickly. Soon Newt took the kid by the arm and led him away for the tour. You turned back around to get your tools so that you could continue your work in the gardens. Still, you couldn’t shake off the thoughts of the mysterious boy that were swarming and invading your mind.

Time Skip

The bon-fire had long gone out and the dying ashes were floating around in the dark sky as you took a seat on an abandoned log. The kid you learned was named Minho had done well in fighting Gally and had earned an impressed look from you but nothing else. You were sure if he asked about you that Newt would have already filled him in on all the details. They seemed to be getting close. You watched the glowing orange embers floating around your head and suddenly you were hit with a huge wave of nausea. Your head spun and the world around you blurred. You got flashes of a griever and your former partner. You saw yourself leaving him behind. You took a deep breath in. This happened frequently enough for you to know how to calm yourself down without needing the help or assistance of a medic. You always had the same vision. The same night. The same scene. It haunted you every day. This time it seemed a thousand times worse. Your breathing didn’t steady and instead became more and more erratic until you couldn’t breathe anymore. You felt like you were spinning and you couldn’t stop. You felt your body jerking erratically and thrashing. Everything became distorted and soon enough you felt yourself falling, falling, falling endlessly and you couldn’t steady yourself. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around you and lifted you up. You gasped and regained your breath. You panted heavily and put a hand over your heart to calm the racing organ.

“You alright?” a voice came from behind you. You turned around to see a blurry tuft of black hair. Your eyes came back into focus and you realized it was Minho.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You said. You turned around and curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth. Your legs were tucked into your body and your arms protectively wrapped themselves around your shivering figure. Minho didn’t say a word and instead of going away did the exact opposite and sat down right next to you. You sighed in exasperation at his boyish acts and scooted away from him. He scooted closer. You scooted away again. He came even closer. You emitted a low growl from your throat and kicked his shins. This time, he didn’t retaliate. You kicked him again and again.

“Would you please stop kicking me?” He said. There wasn’t a hint of angry in his voice and it confused you.

“Would you please stop… I don’t being so you?”

“Did you just ask me to stop being me?”

“Yes…”

He laughed. You glared at him.

“Would you please stop being so loud?”

“Why?”

“Because you might wake someone up.”

“And… why is that a bad thing?”

“Because then we’ll be punished for being out of bed so late and you’ll have an excuse because you’re a greenie, but I won’t. They’ll ask me why I was out so late and no one knows about my little attacks.”

His eyes widened. “No one knows about it? Why not. You were in a dangerous position there. Your body was pretty much failing, that was the worse panic attack I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I know someone is going to be a medic.”

“Medic? Nah. Newt said I’d probably be a runner.”

You snorted. “A runner? Huh. Didn’t peg you for that type. You know I was once a runner.”

“You were? Huh. Didn’t peg you for that type.” He retorted, mimicking you.

You gave him a serious look.

“I was the best runner in the glade.”

“Was?” He questioned.

“That panic attack I had was from when I spent a night in the maze.”

“You’re lying. Newt said that no one spends a night in the maze.” You shook your head.

“Newt always tells the greenies that no one spends a night in the maze because once they see me they’ll be all, ‘What happened to them?’ and once he tells them I once spent and survived a night in the maze they won’t want to be a runner.”

“Whoa. You’re the product of what happens to someone if they spend a night in the maze?”

“Probably. You might have a different experience. I saw my partner get eaten by a griever and I did nothing. It scarred me for life.” You sat sadly staring at the orange embers dying in the bon-fire. He stared at you. Then he shifted standing up and pulling you up with him.

“What?”

“What do you say you relive your old glory days and race me?”

You laughed. “You wouldn’t survive, what with your broken shins and all.”

“What broken- ow. Cheater!” he said as you kicked his shins one more time. You took off to the other side of the glade as fast as your legs could carry you. The wind blew into your face and you were hit by another flashback. A good one. You remembered running around the glade with Newt chasing after you. You didn’t know who he was at the time but you remembered being entranced by his accent before realizing where you were and taking off into a sprint. This was a memory from a happier time. When you first came up in the box Newt had immediately taken you under his wing. Suddenly you fell and rolled to a stop right at the edge of the maze. Minho came up to you seconds later, panting with heavy breaths.

“Whoa… you’re fast.” He said with amazement.

You patted the grass next to you and motioned for him to sit. He eyed you suspiciously.

“You’re not going to kick me again are you?”

You let out a breathless laugh and shook your head. He took the seat. It didn’t take him long to start asking questions again.

“So after that night in the maze… did you ever try to run again?”

“Once. About three weeks later I ran with the other runners. I asked Newt if I should run again and he told me I didn’t have to but it was my choice. Later when I was getting ready, Newt wanted to come with me because he was still a runner back then. But I told him I was fine and ready. I wasn’t. I fainted near a wall near the tricky part of the maze. Luckily Newt was running at the time and he dragged me back.”

“You said Newt was a runner what happened?”

“He tried to kill himself by jumping off the maze walls but only broke his leg. That was the same day he was wandering around the maze and found me lying unconscious. When we got back both Newt and Alby talked to me. They thought I laid there specifically so that I would die. They thought I was trying to kill myself. But then I told on Newt and he got mad at me. We were on thin ice for a week before we made up and now I work in the gardens with him.”

Minho was silent for a while before he moved his hand to link it with yours. You looked at him but he still showed no emotion. You sighed and leaned your head against his shoulder. As you both lay there looking up at the stars you realized this was the most content you found yourself in a while. You decided you liked it.

#minho x reader #minho imagine #minho imagines #tmr imagine #tmr imagines

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howblunt · 5 years

Note

1-98 weird asks!

First off: Thank you so much! I’m very excited to answer all of these :)

Second off: Let’s begin

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee Mugs

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

lollipops for sure

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

bubblegum! (though i do love cotton candy)

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

honestly I’m not sure. I’m sure it was something about me being quite and bad at participating

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

(reusable) Plastic cups

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I love the look of pastel

but I think I dress more preppy ? with a hint of grunge(maybe goth)

7. earbuds or headphones?

I wear earbuds more often but I do prefer headphones

8. movies or tv shows?

MOVIES

9. favorite smell in the summer?

how the pool smells and sunscreen

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

none. P.E. was awful.

Stick to the back and hope the ball doesn’t come at me, that’s how I lived.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Cereal. I am a simple woman

12. name of your favorite playlist?

currently it is my “Jean + Scott angst (and love)” playlist off spotify

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3VAC9t28sIrgO7Y4os5a34

13. lanyard or key ring?

key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

anything gummy but more specifically gummy worms

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

Wide Sargasso Sea

If you like Gothic novels with some unrequited love and desire… hit this book up. Look up the plot of Jane Erye first.. it’s like a prequel. Btw I hated Jane Erye. But love Wide Sargasso Sea. Lots of symbolism and even witch craft

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Legs stretched out, both on the ground

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

My black tennis shoes. Very comfortable

18. ideal weather?

Fall weather. Wind and sunshine

19. sleeping position?

Usually on my right side. But I wake up on my back

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop

21. obsession from childhood?

Barbie dolls! and my little pony+ littlest pet shop

22. role model?

This is a hard one because I don’t really have anyone. But I guess Dan Aykroyd (my senior quote is from him)

23. strange habits?

biting the inside of my mouth, fidgeting + folding up papers that are given to me (like in mass), and chewing my straws

24. favorite crystal?

Rose quartz and orange Calcite

25. first song you remember hearing?

Here Comes the Sun

My mom used to sing it in the morning to wake up my sister and me

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Swim

Or walk/ride my bike to the library

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

curl up in a blanket and stay inside

28. five songs to describe you?

(In no order)

Not Today by Twenty One Pilots

Wow, I’m Not Crazy by AJR

xanny by Billie Eilish

I’m In Love With My Car by Queen

Why Do You Feel So Down by Declan McKenna

29. best way to bond with you?

Going shopping (clothes or other). This way we can chat and also have something to do

30. places that you find sacred?

The library and church

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

idk full outfit but my black pleated skirt makes me feel good

32. top five favorite vines?

In no order

*girl vapes* wow

I smell like beef

Lets’s tell each other secrets. I’ll go first, I hate you.

Chris is that a weed?!

This is how I enter my house. What’s up fuckers?!

33. most used phrase in your phone?

omg

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

that one for the shampoo made for curly hair. and it goes “That’s curl power”

35. average time you fall asleep?

11 or 12 during the week. 1 or 2 for weekends

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Rage comics. idk which specifically. But i used to run a rage comic meme account. I was pretty popular ;)

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

lemonade (though i do LOVE tea)

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cakes

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

omg so. There was this girl who told on this other girl for cheating on a test. Then like the whole grade just ganged up on this other girl and started calling her “the snitch” because the cheater’s friend group started saying “snitches get stitches” (lol even tho i went to an all girls, majority white + prissy + upper class, catholic school but go off) that went on for too long.

at some party they started to chant “snitches get stitches”

the girl who started the chant then got suspended

41. last person you texted?

my ex. (it was a good breakup)

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

jacket pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

strawberry

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

sci-fi (lmao x-men is under sci-fi at the library. so it counts)

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

XL t-shirt from giving blood and some very loose pajama shorts

47. favorite type of cheese?

American

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Mango (I eat enough to turn into one)

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“Comparison will kill you”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

OMG so there was this big spider web. And me and a friend thought it would be funny to call another friend over. And then be like “’lol u just walked passed a huge spider”–we didn’t think she would walk into it or near it because it was right by the edge of a lake we were by. So we call her over and this girl starts sprinting over toward us and RIGHT toward the spider web, and she had this big smile. And my friend and I yelled at her to stop. And when we were laughing saying she was about to run into a spider web and showed her the big spider, she began to freak out (maybe even cry).

She was okay after the shock and fear wore off.

I literally have tears in my eyes from typing this

51. current stresses?

My friend moving away really far

Starting school

making new friends

52. favorite font?

I honestly don’t have one

53. what is the current state of your hands?

kinda dry

54. what did you learn from your first job?

That I really love kids

55. favorite fairy tale?

Little Red Riding Hood and Rapunzel

56. favorite tradition?

Every one of my family’s Christmas traditions

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

My self doubt

sharing my art + writing

My self confidence + learning my worth

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I can play the piano

I can draw and paint

I can embroider and sew (not well but I have fun)

I can write pretty creative stories

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Oh gosh, now what?”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Magical Girl Anime

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Darjeeling Limited directed by Wes Anderson: “What’s wrong with you?” / “Let me think about that. I’ll tell you the next time I see you.” / “Sure, tell me then.” / “Thanks for using me.” / “You’re Welcome.”

62. seven characters you relate to?

Will from Stranger Things (with the whole not wanting to give up “childish things” and other stuff his friends are growing out of)

David Wong from John Dies at the End (with how he handles the situation and thinks)

Molly from Booksmart (not the going to a great college or being super smart + looking down on people part. But wanting to go to a party and flirt with cute boys)

Erin from Derry Girls (Tbh, I relate to all the main girls in this show)

Eric from That 70s Show (sometimes)

A mix between Ben and Andy from Parks and Rec

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Good Old Fashion Lover Boy by Queen

Dance, Baby! by Boy Pablo

Hooked On A Feeling by Blue Swede

Fake Happy by Paramore

Sober Up by AJR

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Club Penguin and Webkinz

65. any permanent scars?

On my knees from falling as a child. A small scar under my eye from a dog bite

66. favorite flower(s)?

Roses and Daisies

67. good luck charms?

I wear this necklace a friend gave me when I am nervous

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Green Tea flavored Mochi is kinda nasty to me

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Dan Aykroyd lost his wallet that he always kept chained to his belt. He was freaking out and searching all over while John Belushi was laughing his butt off

70. left or right handed?

right

71. least favorite pattern?

anything with too many circles / holes

72. worst subject?

Anything Science related

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

idk but do NOT try lemonade with Doritos. it taste like throw up

I’ve made this mistake twice

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

it has to be an 7 or so

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

gosh, i’m not sure

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

tator tots

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

this is a question for my sister

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

I regularly buy sushi from a grocery store so that works

the grocery store I go to has a sushi bar and has fresh sushi every day

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

tbh they both looks kinda good.. not to BRAG. but i guess driver’s license

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

fireflies

82. pc or console?

83. writing or drawing?

BOTH BOTH BOTH BOTH BOTH

both

84. podcasts or talk radio?

podcast – no commercials

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie all the WAY! Though I do love me a good polly pocket

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Fair Tales

86. cookies or cupcakes?

though i like making cupcakes more

87. your greatest fear?

Being kidnapped and never being found

88. your greatest wish?

To find my ideal man

89. who would you put before everyone else?

Anyone in my family

90. luckiest mistake?

Thinking a test is sooner so I study. But then ending up having another day to study as well.

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

lamps

(maybe some fairy lights in the background)

93. nicknames?

My real name is Veronica but I go by Ronni

Ron Ron, Gonni, Ronica

94. favorite season?

Fall

95. favorite app on your phone?

music

96. desktop background?

I’m a Kaneki slut (Tokyo Ghoul)

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

two

98. favorite historical era?

style wise: 1800 rococo -- Marie Antoinette period

media wise: 1970s

#ask #anon #thank you again!#howblunt #2019

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theprincessoffrost · 7 years

Text

stole this from @yuratchka-speaks

RULES ARE: answer these 85 statements & tag 20 people

Some of these questions repeated and some were skipped when I copied and pasted so I had to find other people’s doing of this and fill in the blanks. Just a warning.

The Last:

1. Drink: Water

2. Phone call: My roommate (He couldn’t find his phone)

3. Text message: “Let me know you made it home safe”

4. Song you listened to: Castle by Halsey

5. Time you cried: Im sure within the last few days. I don’t recall though.

Have You Ever:

6. Dated someone twice: Yes I regret it to this day

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Not really

8. Been cheated on: Oh boy have I (yes very dark time in my life)

9. Lost someone special: Not to anything like death thank goodness, but to distance and lack of communication

10. Been depressed: I have gotten very deeply sad but I have never been diagnosed with depression. I should get that checked come to think of it...

11. Gotten drunk & thrown up: Oh yes. It was a year or so ago and I felt so bad because my roommate cleaned it up. (bless his soul)

Favorite Colors:

12. Teal

13. Green

14. Blue

In The Last Year Have You:

15. Made new friends: I would like to think so but that remains to be seen

16. Fallen out of love: Nope haven’t been in love for a few years

17. Laughed until you cried: Usually I have minor asthma attacks before that happens. People often ask me (jokingly) If i’m dying.

18. Found out someone was talking about you: I don’t know quite in what context of this but I guess? I found out that a co worker hates me from another co worker.

19. Met someone who changed you: Not really

20. Found out who your friends are: I have known for a while, but it was not tested within the year.

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: uh... my aunt on the cheek?

General:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: All of them.

23. Do you have any pets: Yeah my Kitty Qrow.

24. Do you want to change your name: I have wanted to, but see no real reason.

25. What did you do for your last birthday: Went out of town with some great friends and went to dinner then came back to my house and played fun party games. overall a great Birthday!

26. What time did you wake up: About 6:30 Am but I did hit the snooze until about 7

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Asleep in bed because I had to get up super early for work.

28. Name something you can’t wait for: Going to a Renaissance fair with my younger bro (hopefully) and @jax-nevermore one of these weekends

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Just earlier today when she stopped by to grab something from me.

30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: My relationship with my Mother.

31. What are you listening to right now: My Ceiling fan and white noise machine. I’m winding down for bed.

32. Have you ever talked to a person named tom: Yeah I went on a date with a nice guy named Tom. It didn’t work out but he was really sweet.

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: A lot of things involving work.

34. Most visited website: Between Ao3 and Tumblr if you are counting the app

35. Hair colour: Kinda a blondish brown more on the blond side

36. Long or short hair: Mid?

37. Childhood dream: To be a writer

38: Marks: I have scars from being a clumsy child. Scar on my palm from falling on something. Scar on my lip from falling off a chair and hitting my parent’s table. Scar on the back of my leg at the knee from a nasty run-in with a bike. (I won’t go into detail) scar in my eyebrow from more falling. scar on my wrist from a dark time in my life. (see answer 8)

39. Piercings: Ear lobes that have been stretched to a 2

40. Blood type: A

41. Nicknames: E, Haru, Eek (im sure theres more i just can’t think of them right now)

42. Relationship status: Woefully single

43. Zodiac: Taurus

44. Pronouns: Her/She

45. Favourite TVshow: Gravity Falls. Idk if streaming counts, but if it does Voltron

46. Tattoos: None, but there are a few I would love.

47. Right or left handed: Right

48. Surgery: Minor stuff like Tooth fillings and wisdom teeth removal (if those count)

49. What do you like about yourself: Not much physically, but something I have been told is I am a comfortable and soothing person to be around and I do like that. I also a rather fond of my story crafting skills(does that sound narcissistic? i hope not.)

50. Sport: None. I work so often. I do bike a lot to work though.

51. Vacation: I would like one. Maybe a road trip to historic sites

52. Pair of trainers: A pair of black work shoes (i wear them most days anyway)

53. Eating: Nothing right now.

54. Fav drink: Mainly tea! so much tea, but more specifically Lady grey tea and forms of Lighter Earl Grey flavors like Earl Grey Moonlight or Earl Grey Creme

55. What you’re up to: Filling this out before bed

56. Waiting for: Inspiration to take me away for the next chapter of EUM

57. Want: To get more than one day off in a row in a week

58. Get married: Pfft not ruling it out but not anytime soon

59. Career: Maybe a massage therapist

Which is better:

60. Hugs or kisses: I like both, but maybe hugs

61. Lips or eyes: Eyes

62. Shorter or taller: Taller

63. Older or younger: Don’t much care if its within a few year gap. closer to my age the better.

64. Nice arms or nice stomach Nice stomach

65. Hook up or relationship: Relationship

66. Troublemaker or hesitant: troublemaker but not needlessly

Have you ever:

67. Kissed a stranger: No

68. Drank hard liquor: Yes

69. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I have, but they showed up a few days later

70. Turned someone down: I was bad with flirting but I think I did in high school

71. Sex on the first date: Never

72. Broken someone’s heart: I’m not sure maybe?

73. Had your heart broken: YES

74. Been arrested: Nope thank god

75. Cried when someone died: I have not had to go though this yet in my life thank goodness but when characters have died in media i have cried

76. Fallen for a friend: Kinda

Do You Believe In

77. Yourself: Not really

78. Miracles: I’m cautiously optimistic about them

79. Love at first sight: Kinda

80. Santa Claus: not really

81. Kiss on the first date: situational

82. Angels: again I am cautiously optimistic about them

Other

83. Current best friend’s name: I have a group i consider best friends. My roommates, @jax-nevermore (thats me in his profile pic btw), @spamaramakins, and @viperscreeed

84. Eye colour: A Blue grey

85. Favourite movie: Kinda depends on the mood I am in because it shifts a lot but I have always loved Disney’s Robin Hood (that and fox and the hound probably explain my love for foxes), And also Lion King 2 but in a tone shift I am also a huge fan of Interview with a Vampire

TAGGING

I’m not a huge fan of tagging so do this if you would like.

#Long post #do this if you would like #i enjoyed it #sorry for the @s #getting to know me

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