#i feel like i wrote this or read this somewhere
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A good excuse to kiss
The requested Theo and Mattheo version of ‘a good excuse to kiss’
In order to keep your best friend’s relationship a secret you have to distract a certain slytherin.
Aria (cameo by @justdizzie ) is your Gryffindor best friend and has a secret relationship with Draco.
Read the Enzo and Blaise version here.
Not really proofread, so let me know if there's any major errors that hurt your brain. I really wanted to write and post something for my 2000 reblogs milestone so this might be a bit rushed. Anyways, here's some Mattheo and Theo content, I feel like it's been a while since I wrote for them, so enjoy and lots of love to all of you.
Damn it, Aria, where are you? It was lunch time and you still hadn’t seen your friend. You were seriously getting worried, which brought you to the door of Draco’s room. You were pleased to find the Slytherin common room empty, since Aria and Draco’s relationship was top secret you really couldn’t bring her up around his friends.
“I think we should get up.” Draco whispers softly as his hand strokes Aria’s soft hair. With still sleepy eyes she looks up at him. “But I’m so comfy.” Draco smiles and gives her a soft kiss on top of her head, before wrapping his arms around her.
Your fist hits the door hard. “Malfoy!” You yell and immediately you take a step back hearing a lot of noise and loud whispers. “What do we do? Quick hide.” “Where?” You roll your eyes. “It’s me!” You yell and Aria on the other side of the door relaxes her shoulders. “It’s (y/n). Thank Godric." Draco relaxes as well and can’t help but smile. “We’ve got to stop doing this.” He sighs and Aria frowns at his words. “I mean the secrecy, not the dating!” Draco immediately explains. “Idiot. Like I would ever let you go.” He mutters, before kissing his girlfriend so she can’t complain about his little insult.
The door opens and you see Aria’s messy black hair and apologetic brown eyes. “We overslept. Keep guard for a moment, I’ll be there in sec.” You nod, but as soon as the door closes you shake your head. Being the only friend that knows of their secret relationship was an honor, but also a full time job. Luckily for you, everyone was at lunch so no one would come looking for them, except…
Theo
You hear someone enter while cursing. “Where is that little sneaky slippery guy now?” You quickly scan the room to see if you can hide somewhere, but you don’t really see a way out and also you suddenly remember that you have to stand guard. Theo’s agitated gaze lands on you, fidgeting and awkwardly staring around the room. Things just got weirder, but also more interesting for Theo. “Why are you standing in front of Draco’s door like you’re hiding a dead body behind it?” You immediately feel caught, but you frown at the mentions of a dead body. “There’s no dead body.” You say, determined to prove to him you have no secrets, taking a few steps towards him in an attempt to keep him away from the door just in case he could hear Aria. “And how would you know?” Theo raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet yours. Gods, Theodore was the most smug and self confident guy you had ever met.
“I checked.” You state and Theodore’s tongue wets his bottom lip while he raises his eyebrows. “And why exactly were you checking Draco’s room?” Your eyes widen a little as you fall short on excuses. “I-I-I’m I’m-I had a project… with Malfoy. I have a project with Malfoy and I came to check if he had done his work.” Despite your stammering you convince yourself you did well with your answer, but Theodore was far from buying it.
“You’re a shit liar.” Theo snaps and shoves you aside, heading for Draco’s room. “Now let’s see what that blond’s up to!” Your brain goes blank as you panic when he walks past you, but Aria was your best friend so in an instant your instincts take over. You grab Theo’s arm and pull him towards you. Not expecting you to so violently jerk his arm Theodore turns towards you, but you give him no time to question your actions… or for you to question your own for that matter. Your hand reaches for the back of his head and you pull him in for a kiss. Theo lets you and even moves closer to you, his hands tracing from your hips to the small of your back. When you finally pull away your actions dawn on you and you’re met with a very amused and smirking Theodore. “What was that?” He demands in a soft whisper. Your mouth opens but your brain hasn’t come up with an excuse for your behavior yet, making Theo chuckle softly at your lost expression. “If you can’t come up with any good excuses your only option is to kiss me again.” His voice is suggestive, but you’re still too worried about your friend to realize he’s flirting. “I could always go check that room.” Theo suggests when he gets impatient with you and within a heartbeat you’re kissing him again.
This time Theodore meets you with even more passion and you can’t deny that he’s doing everything right. “Remind me to thank Draco later for whatever he’s got you keeping secret.” Theodore breathes in between kisses as his mouth sloppily works down your neck.
“Thank me for what exactly?” Draco’s voice has you spin away from each other to meet his smirk. Theodore doesn’t look very fazed by being caught, rather annoyed that the little make out got interrupted. When Theo looks over at you he immediately falls in love with your flustered look. You were very embarrassed, but at least you were a good friend to Aria.
Mattheo
“Ey Malfoy!” You’re startled when you recognise Mattheo’s loud and demanding voice. “Get your incredibly white ass to the great hall, you’re la-” Mattheo stops and his eyebrows knit together when he spots your sheepish figure standing in front of the door of Draco’s room. “What are you up to?” He demands, suspicious as he was about everyone but his close circle of friends. You cross your arms. “Nothing.” Your answer only makes Mattheo more curious and assures him that he’ll get whatever secrets you’re keeping out of you easily since you obviously possessed no skills of lying.
“I recognise trouble when I see it.” Mattheo calmly walks over to you, his eyes falling down your figure, taking in every detail like he was going to find out all your secrets by watching you intently. You huff and try to wave away the fact Mattheo is successfully intimidating you. “You, Riddle, are trouble, I, on the other hand, am the innocence itself.” You state, tilting your head as you make your argument. Mattheo snorts and walks around you, making you turn and narrow your eyes at him. You were not some prey he could circle like this. “You weren’t just standing here, doing nothing. So explain yourself.” You lose all focus when he says those words as you see the doorknob of Draco’s door turn behind Mattheo.
Smiling and unaware of Mattheo, Aria appears at the opening of the door and the panic that rushes over your face informs Mattheo that something’s going on. “Wha-” He turns, but you grab his face, squishing his cheeks in your hands. “What are you doing?” He demands with his face still smushed together. Aria is still in view and you realize that she’s going to hide somewhere to get out of the slytherin common room. Your attention is brought back to Mattheo when his hands pull on yours, but you can’t let him turn around so here goes nothing.
You hoped that Mattheo’s eyes would close, but they go wide as your lips slam against his. Knowing that Aria is going to need a few seconds to get out of this room you decide to go in for a deep kiss, all or nothing. It only takes Mattheo a moment to realize what your effort is all about and he wouldn’t be a true slytherin if he didn’t take an opportunity like this to make out with a pretty girl. No secret you were keeping was worth missing out on a little make out session with you, according to Mattheo’s book. His hands immediately slip under your skirt to rest on your thighs and you want to complain about this rather blunt move of his, but when he finally kisses you back you let him because no guy had ever kissed you like this. There was an immense fire of desire in the way he kissed that ignited a deep longing for more within you.
When he knows he’s doing it right he squeezes your ass urging you to move against him and allowing him to pick you up and push you against a nearby wall. Aria who has by now made it to the other side of the room is shocked by what she’s seeing. Her best friend who’s always so innocent full on making out with Mattheo Riddle of all guys and this before the day had even started properly. For a split second Aria considers coming to your rescue but as a soft moan leaves Mattheo when your fingers entangle with his hair and you throw back your head allowing him to nip at your sweet spot, your friend decides it best not to interrupt this and rather tease you about it later.
Picture source: https://pin.it/1WOSNnX6U
#slytherin#slytherin boys#theodore nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#papercorgiworldwritings
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The Consequence of Late Night Calls
Summary: You've been friends with Katsuki for years, and you've always thought it's been just that - friends. But when you get a late-night call, it might just change things.
AN: Last repost! The original post got eaten by Tumblr. I'm still really proud of this one. I wrote it back when I was first starting to publish fanfic and I like how it turned out.
Warnings: College au, drinking, language
The call shocked you out of a deep but impromptu sleep. You jerked up from the noise, a page of lecture notes sticking to your check. It fluttered back to the desk covered in its own mess of loose leaf documents, used textbooks that cost more than a weekend trip to Disney World, and a laptop missing three of its letter keys.
You dragged your tongue against your teeth, trying to get rid of the cotton feel coating the inside of your mouth. Rubbing stars into your tired eyes, you wondered when exactly you had fallen asleep. Was it somewhere near memorizing the latin terminology for court rhetoric or around reading the case file and trial records you were going to be tested over on Monday? Deciding wondering was basically pointless, considering you had pretty much forgotten all of it anyway, you pawed blindly around for your phone.
“Hello?” You answered, eyes still closed, although it probably came out and more of a mumbled groan than anything else.
“(Y/NNNNNNNNN)!”
You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden loud noise. Blinking bleerally, you looked down at your phone. You had taken the caller ID picture a year ago, at a sorority Halloween party you barely remembered aside from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed followed by an ill-advised scavenger hunt that ended with a call to the police and the dean’s car somehow ending up in the agriculture department’s greenhouse crowded with Jack-O-lanterns. It was a profile shot of Bakugou Katsuki, his mouth opened in a mid-yell scowl, as was his standard expression, and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. One hand extended to try and block the camera, the other clutching a brown bottle. He was wearing a fantasy barbarian king costume, chest bare to show off the taut muscles he worked so hard for all of high school to get. When he’d shown up in it, or, rather, when Kirishima had dragged him along in his own dragonborn costume, you couldn’t believe he still had it. You remembered sitting in your basement in 9th grade, pricking your fingers with a sewing needle as you and the rest of your newly formed D&D group, Bakugou and Kirishima included, spent way too much time and effort into creating your costumes.
Rubbing at the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to chase away the headache you could already feel forming, you brought the phone back to your ear. You could hear the low thump of bass heavy music in the background.
“Hi, Suki,” You said, trying not to sound condescending, but it came out like that anyway.
“Hey!” He said sharply. The rest of his reply was slurred smooth. “I told you not to call me that.”
You smirked. “It’s cute.”
“It’s embarrassing! ‘M not cute.”
“No, you’re calling me at-” You pulled the phone away again to check the time. “Katsuki, it’s like two in the morning, what the hell?”
You heard someone shout something on the other side of the line that Katsuki mumbled a reply to. To you he said, “Was thinking about you.”
You felt yourself blush despite yourself. “You were thinking about me?”
There was a clunk and a bump. You could imagine him falling against a wall and sliding down to sit until the room stopped spinning. “Yeah. I don’t like it.”
You ignored the jab in your heart. “Well, thanks.”
“It keeps happening. I’ll just be, like, doing stuff, and then I just think, ‘What would (Y/N) think of that?’ ‘I wonder what (Y/N)’s doing right now.’ ‘(Y/N) would know what to do now. She’s so smart. And her hands look so soft. And her eyes are so pretty.’” He was quiet for a second. “It’s annoying. I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s worse when you’re here.” There was a shuffling as you heard him try to stand up then give up again. “Why aren’t you here? I want you here.”
You were wide awake now. You clenched and unclenched your hand, trying to process the information your obviously drunk friend had just confessed. Your stomach churned in a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and straight up butterflies.
What the hell did all of that mean? Well, of course you knew what it meant, or you knew what it meant when spoken by a sober person of sound mind and body. But there was no way, you tried to rationalize, that The Bakugou Katsuki, the guy you’d known since freshman year of high school when he’d punched a guy who had flipped up your uniform skirt on the first day, the guy who had surprised just about everyone in home economics when he busted out a three tiered cake like it was no one’s business, the guy whos ego was big enough to have its own gravitational pull, was confessing his feelings to you in a drunk rant at two in the morning.
“Katsuki,” You said in a soft voice. “I-”
There was a retching sound from the other end of the line. Katsuki coughed, tried to say something, then threw up again. “Aw, fuck.”
That headache was back with avengence now. You sighed, looking for your keys. “Katsuki, where are you?”
“Uhh, on campus? At the Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. There’s a party. Why aren’t you here?”
“You know I hate all the Greek life bs. Stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. You’re completely wasted.”
“‘M not. I can handle what I drink.” There was another pause before he wretched again.
“Did you just throw up again?”
“...No.”
“Cool. I’ll be there in ten.”
You didn’t wait for him to respond before hanging it. You didn’t think your heart could take it if he kept going on like he had been. Grabbing your keys and heading out of your crowded studio apartment, you hopped in your car to go save your drunk friend from making any other ill advised decisions that night.
You realized that you were probably over thinking the whole phone call as you drove through deserted streets. You couldn’t help it, it was a bad habit you had formed as a kid that now made you obsess over court documents and testimonies in class. But now, instead of helping, it was picking you apart. What did Katsuki’s tone imply when he was talking to you just now? Could you trust the tone of an inebriated person? What did he mean when he said he thought about you a lot? You’d known each other for years now, being involved in almost all the same activities. Wouldn’t it be natural to think about someone you spent so much time with? But you’d known Kirishima for just as long, not to mention the rest of the self-named “Baku-Squad.” You’d never gotten a late night drunk call from any of them. Heck, Katsuki had known Izuku way longer than he had known you, and you were pretty dang sure Katsuki had never called him going on and on about how he always thought about him.
Stopping at a red light, you pressed your forehead into the soft faux-leather of your steering wheel, willing your thoughts to calm down and just come to a rational conclusion already. Expect, you know, a rational conclusion that wasn’t that the guy you had carried a torch for for almost as long as you had known him might actually have feelings for you back.
You turned on to the street lined with sororities and fraternities across from the main campus. You had to slam on your breaks almost immediately to avoid running over a tipsy, giggling co-ed who was stumbling out into the road. She didn’t even look up at you.
You didn’t know exactly which house Katsuki was stranded at, considering you could see at least three different parties all going on at first glance. His “Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever” wasn’t very helpful, either, considering all the Greek letters adorning the houses blended together in your mind at some point. And you really didn’t want to tramp through a bunch of different houses tonight.
Thankfully, you were saved the trouble when you saw Kirishima’s 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle park half off the curb in front of one of the houses. You’d know that car anywhere. Kirishima had dragged your group to various scrap yards and auto-repair stores all summer after he got his license, the first of you all to do so, in an effort to fix up the worn down Chevelle that he’d bought for a hundred bucks and a turkey sandwich.
You parked on the other side of the street then jogged across to the house that was practically vibrating with heavy music and Greek life energy. Stepping over a semi-conscious frat boy laying in the doorway, you scanned around the house for any sign of Katsuki’s pomeranian-puff-ball hair.
You spotted Denki lounging on a couch, a lampshade on his head and a tangle of phone chargers clutched in his fist. His hand sparked every now and then as he used his quirk to recharge the collection of phones.
You lifted up the edge of the lampshade. “Hey there, Pikachu.”
“Heeeeeey~” He said, giving you a thumbs up. You could already tell he was too far gone, although you didn’t know if it was from drinking or the over use of his quirk.
“(Y/N)!” You heard a voice call behind you. A body fell heavily against your back. Sero wrapped his arms around you in a backwards hug. “Where you been? We missed you!”
“Studying. I’m boring, remember? I’m looking for Katsuki, you seen him around?”
Sero snickered. “Bakugou, huh? He’s been looking for you for a long time, right, Denki?”
“Heeeeeey~”
You swallowed hard. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Sero snickered again, flopping on the couch next to Denki. “Can’t tell. Part of the bro code. And he said he’d kill me.”
“That does sound like Katsuki.”
Sero covered his eyes with his arm, head leaning back. With a wide smile, he waved his hand in the vague direction to the back door. “I think he’s out by the pool or something.”
You waved bye. “Thanks, I’ll go check it out. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?”
“Look at ‘em go,” Sero said to Denki as you left. “You think they’ll have a spring wedding?”
“Heeeeeey~”
*~~~~*
You managed to weave your way through the crowd of bodies clogging the house to finally spill out into the back yard. You had no idea how people were able to stay this energized this late into the night with this many other people around. You remembered once being stuck at another party, early on in your college days. When it became super clear you didn’t want to be there, overwhelmed by the noise, the crush of bodies, and the suffocation of social enterprise, Katsuki had dragged Kirishima over to you, planting him in front of you as your ‘extrovert shield.’ He’d stayed with you behind the boisterous redhead for the rest of the night.
You wondered if Katsuki remembered doing that, if he remembered any of the small nice gestures he did for you over the years. And now, with his call, with what Sero said, with your over analyzing brain, you were dissecting every interaction you could remember. Was the time he opened a door for you a signal? Was the reason he would ask to study with you for chemistry, when he was way better in practically every subject than you, just so he could be close to you? Were the times he had given you his jacket when you were cold meant to be a more intimate moment?
God, you were going to go crazy.
Walking around the pool, you finally spotted the hot-headed blond. He was sitting slouched over on the end of one of the reclining pool chairs, forearms braced on his knees. You almost called out to him, stopping cold when you saw the girl behind him. She had draped herself over his back, chin rested in the crook of his neck, one had massaging his shoulder, the other conspicuously sneaking under the hem of his shirt to rub circles on his abs.
You clenched and unclenched your hands, worry gnawing at you as a headache at the back of your skull. Had something changed between the time he had called you and now? Had there been nothing there to change at all? Had you been misreading this situation the whole time?
Katsuki looked up, his permanently affixed scowl even deeper. The second his jewel-red eyes met yours, you felt your heart skip a beat. He jumped to his feet so fast the girl behind him fell back against the chair. He tried marching over to you, which was made only slightly less intimidating by the drunk sway to his step.
You didn’t remember him being so tall. You’d just seen him this afternoon. There was a flushed blush across his face, adding a surprising softness. Were his arms always that strong looking? Were his eyes that piercing? Was his jaw that strong?
“You came,” He said, voice rough as whiskey soaking into gravel.
You spread your hands. “Well, you said my name three times, so, here I am!” You laughed nervously, trying to ignore how his gaze pinned you down.
He took another step towards you, hand reading up. “(Y/N), I-”
His cheeks turned from pink to green. Lurching to the side, he vomited into the pool. You tried to help him back up, hunched over and trying to catch his breath. The crowd of people around you groaned in disgust before rolling in to sarcastic applause. Katsuki flipped them off.
“Alright, Suki,” You said, rubbing his back. “Let’s get you back home.”
He grumbled, leaning his full weight against you. You almost stumbled and fell with the sudden shift of balance. Katsuki slid his arm around your waist, hand firmly grasping your hip, as if he was the one trying to prevent you from a drunken stumble. His fingers felt like fire through your clothes.
You decided to go around the house instead of trying to push your way through it. Soon you were making your way across the street. It took some maneuvering to unlock and open the passenger door. You practically dropped Katsuki in where his head fell back with a groan. You grabbed his seat belt and stretched across him to fasten it. It wasn’t until he started petting your hair that your realized your position of half-way laying across his lap. You jerked back, some of your hair getting caught in his fingers. He made a disappointed sound at the loss of it.
You slid back into the driver's seat, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You had to take a few steadying breaths before you were ready to start the car. Pulling out of the neighborhood, you glanced over at Katsuki. His eye brows were furrowed, eyes closed, mouth pulled in a small frown.
God, he looked adorable.
You hit the break harder than you meant to at the light. Adorable? Where the hell did that thought come from? He’d probably be furious if he knew you ever thought that.
But…
You risked another look at him. When he let his face relax like this, you could see the slight chub that still clung to his cheeks. Another thing he would hate to know that you thought was how much you loved the softness that it leant him. It was cute.
Almost without your realizing it, you lifted your hand. You were overcome with the sudden urge to poke his cheek. A car horn blared behind you when your finger was less than an inch from his face. You let out an undignified squeak, hands slamming back to the wheel. Katsuki grumbled and turned in the seat, head resting against the window. You could feel the blush burning up your face.
A few minutes later, you pulled back to the apartment complex. You both lived in the same building, Katsuki directly below your own unit. And now you were overthinking his reason for not living on campus.
When you opened the passenger door, Katsuki almost fell out. You jerked forward to catch him then dragged him out. He half woke up, as feeble on his legs as a newborn horse.
You lugged him through the lobby. He was muttering under his breath, but most of the words you could make out were curses. Not unusual for him. You pressed the button for the elevator repeatedly. It just blinked back at you. You sighed in frustration. They had been doing maintenance on your building all week, but now might have been the absolute worst time to do the elevator.
You shook Katsuki’s shoulder a little bit. His head jostled like a bobble-head. “Suki, I’m gonna need your help here for a minute.”
His head lolled forward, forehead coming down to press to yours. In a quiet voice, he whispered, “I’d do anything for you.”
You shoved him upright, face burning. “Then walk up the damn stairs yourself!”
Despite that, you still ended up half-carrying him up four flights of stairs. You were uncomfortably sweaty when you reached the door to Katsuki’s apartment. The two of you had traded copies of your apartment keys when you had moved in. “In case something happens to your dumb ass and I need to come save you,” He had said. He would frequently stop by, usually when you were hours deep into an all-nighter. He’d bring his laptop and work on whatever 12 page essay way due on your bed while you poured over case reports. You’d sit in silence, just together, sharing the same space, content with nothing more than knowing the other was nearby. Or he’d bring you real food to make sure you weren’t just eating ramen all the time. In turn, you’d pull him out for game night with the squad, make sure he’d actually call his mother once in a while, and lend an ear to his semi-nightly rants on whoever he decided to hate that night.
You fumbled with the keys, jamming the key in the lock then pushing it open with your shoulder that wasn’t currently occupied by a half-asleep, full-drunk boy who had at least 50 pounds and ten inches on you.
There was always an expectation with the rooms of single college boys. Greasy pizza boxes, empty bottles of booze displayed like expensive decor, at least one poster of a half-naked girl somewhere, probably a basket of clothes that should have been washed weeks ago. And while you knew plenty of guys who fit that description, Katsuki defied expectation. His apartment was always immaculate. His shoes were lined neatly by the door, a calendar above his desk color-coded with assignment due dates, bed made. Katsuki may give off the persona of a punk, but you knew he was a straight-laced nerd through and through.
With the last of your strength, you lugged him across the room, dropping him on his bed. With a groan, you stretched your arms up until you heard a satisfying pop in your back. Hands on your hips, you watched as Katsuki moaned, burying his face in his pillow and pulling his feet up from the floor. You sat on the end of the bed, tugging his feet to you to unlace his shoes. You let them fall haphazardly to the floor, too tired to care about his level of neatness.
You grabbed a bucket from his hall closet, putting it next to the head of his bed for when he inevitably woke up vomiting in the morning. Checking his bathroom, you put a couple of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand with a post-it note saying “Drink Me.”
Brushing your hands off, you looked around and checked your work. Satisfied that he wouldn’t kill himself between now and when you would inevitably check on him in the morning, you decided it was finally time to head back upstairs and get some well deserved sleep.
But…
You turned back at the door. Katsuki was splayed like a starfish, gently snoring with his mouth wide open. You also noticed his blushing red fluffy cheeks.
You tapped the door knob a few times before sighing in surrender to temptation and turnin back. You knelt down next to the bed. For a moment, you just watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful now. You reached out. Your index finger sunk into his cheek like it was a marshmallow. You couldn’t believe you had never done this before. God, he really was adorable.
Your thoughts were abruptly cut off as Katsuki’s hand shot up and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip. With a shriek, you tried to scramble backwards. Katsuki lazily opened his eyes, not at all bothered by your struggles. With seemingly no effort on his part, he tugged you forward. Off balance, you fell into his chest. Katsuki wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug, slinging a leg over yours, trapping you on the bed.
“Katsuki!” You hissed. You squirmed in his hold, not getting any extra room. He just hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You were pretty sure your face was hot enough to start a fire. “Katsuki, let me go!”
“No,” He mumbled. His voice rumbled against your skin sending shivers through your whole body.
“Katsuki!”
“You can’t leave. If you leave, you won’t come back.”
You stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?”
He squeezed you tighter. “I’m loud. I get angry real easy. I fight a lot. And you…” He trailed off, his breath catching and rattling in his chest. “You’re so much better than me. You’re nice and smart and talented and pretty and caring and… and…” You could feel the hot tears landing on your skin. He was starting to shake. His grip had loosened enough for you to get out, but instead you brought your arms up and pulled him in closer. “If I let you go, you’ll see how much better you are than me. And you’ll leave. You’ll leave me because you’re better and you deserve so much better. But I’m a selfish bastard and I just want you for myself because I love you so damn much.”
Your heart dropped into your stomach. You wiggled your hand up, threading your hand into his hair and tilting his head to look up at you.
“I love you too,” You said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Katsuki crushed you to his chest, letting out another loud sob. You could feel hot tears pressing against your eyes. You had no idea Katsuki felt this way about anything; about you, about himself, about your relationship.
But one thing you knew for sure: You loved Bakugou Katsuki.
~~~
The first thing Katsuki noticed when he woke up was the head ache. His head felt like he had a railroad spike jammed through his temples. God, what did he do last night? There was the party at Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. It’d been fine for a while, hanging out with the guys, playing beer pong, winning some extra cash from freshman in poker (where did he put that money anyway?). And then…
And then someone had said your name. He’d heard it across the room, an amazing feat in and of itself, but his ears were trained for any news of you. He’d jerked up right when he heard it, missing his shot at the beer pong table. He gladly took his drink and went prowling through the house. Who had said your name? Were you here? Were you coming?
It might have been selfish, he knew how much you hated loud crowds, but damn it, he wanted you here. He remembered the last Greek life party you had been at. He’d lost you at some point between getting into an argument with that damn Deku and pulling Denki down from a keg stand. He’d finally found you huddled into some back corner, looking like a rabbit about to dart from a hungry fox (he wouldn’t mind being that fox, honestly, he could eat you right up.) You’d lost the color in your face, hands shaking as you clutched your red Solo cup almost hard enough for your nails to pierce the plastic.
He snatched Kirishima by his collar as he carved a path through the room. He planted the extroverted red-head in front of you, creating an extrovert shield between himself and the love of his life you. He’d spent the rest of the night talking to you. Nothing special, he couldn’t even really remember what about. But he did remember the relaxed slope of your shoulders, the spark in your eyes, the smile that played on your lips at whatever lame joke he had just made.
Back in the present (or last night, whatever), he was still stalking through the halls looking for whoever had mentioned you. He heard it again, the tail end of your name, coming from the living room.
“-(/N) never had it so good.” There he was, lounging along the bottom stairs with a smug look on his face as he regaled the small crowd he had attracted. Katsuki recognized him as one of those legacy kids, the one who showed up to the first day of orientation in a sleek black Bugatti and took up three parking spaces, talked in almost every one of his classes when he even bothered to show up, and was, without a doubt at every party on or off campus.
And now he was telling a story about you. What were you ever doing with an asshole like him?
“You would never guess it from how she dresses, you know,” The guy continued, lazily waving his half-empty beer bottle. “But she is stacked.”
Katsuki tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat. He pushed aside the crowd until he stood right in front of the bragger on the stairs. “What did you just say?” He asked through clenched teeth. “You're talking about (Y/N) (L/N), right?”
He lazily swept his gaze up, grinning wide when he saw Katsuki. “Yeah, (Y/N)? You know, she comes across as a frigid bitch, but let me tell you, she’s an incredible lay.” Katsuki’s vision went red. The crowd started to subtly shuffle away, feeling the cold change in atmosphere. “Not much besides that, honestly. Thank god her tits and ass are amazing, cause her face sure wasn’t doing it for me. Super boring, too, heard she’s failing her classes. Oh, well. Hey, I could use a side-piece when I’m running my own firm, you know?”
The asshole never saw it coming. In the span of a heart beat, Katsuki had grabbed his designer jacket and hoisted him off the stairs, pinning him to the wall so his feet kicked to try and reach the ground.
“You listen to me, asshole,” Katsuki hissed. “You never talk about (Y/N) again. You never look at her, you never talk to your shit-stain friends about her, you sure as fuck never tell another lie about her, or so help me, you’ll get to find out what color your liver is.”
Katsuki was half-way sure the jerk had pissed his pants. He dropped him in a heap, landing in the puddle of spilled beer on the floor. He brushed his hand off on his jeans, eager to get whatever germs the gossip had off him.
He was almost out of ear shot when he heard the rich kid spit and say, “Fine. She’s probably crawling with it if you’re dicking her down.”
The kid’s head made a dent in the wall as he richoched back from the impact of Katsuki’s punch. He would easily have a black eye and a broken nose, the chipped tooth would just be a bonus.
Katsuki’s head was fuzzy with rage, stalked through the house, bee-lining it to the nearest source of inebriation. How dare he? How fucking dare that absolute ass-wipe ever even think of saying such horrible things about you? He wasn’t even worth knowing your name, much less saying it. Not to mention the fact he must be blind to think you were anything less than stunning. Ever since he had known you, you had been nothing but kind and smart and caring and funny and…
“Baku-bro, you doing okay?”
Katsuki didn’t realize how tight he was holding his fists until he relaxed. His nails had made half-moon indents in his palms, his knuckles brushed red from the punch.
Kirishima had his mouth pulled down in that stupid puppy dog pout. “I’m fine,” Katsuki brushed him off. He grabbed a beer out of an iced cooler, twisting off the cap in a single motion and chugging half the bottle.
“Well, that’s good, cause I don’t think Tim Flood is making it out of here without a few stitches.”
“Good.” Katsuki finished the beer and chucked it into a recycle bin. He grabbed another and stalked out of the room. Everything felt too hot, too tight. His head was pounding. If you were here, you’d get a bag of ice and press it against his forehead. You’d probably call him an idiot for getting into another fight, that he needed to learn how to manage his temper better. He’d call you a dumbass but let you lead him away somewhere dark and quiet, away from all the other more insufferable dumbasses. You’d find some pain killers, get him some water, because that’s just the kind of caring person you were. Maybe you’d bring him upstairs, lead him to an unoccupied bedroom. The two of you would sit together on the bed, maybe just a little too close. You’d hand him the water, his hand would brush against yours. You’d look down, shy, blushing cutely. He’d lean forward, thread his hand through your incredibly soft hair, angle your face up to him. Your plush lips would part slightly and he’d lean forward and -
“Are you sure you’re good?” Kirishima asked, abruptly cutting off Katsuki’s impromptu fantasy. “Cause you don’t look so good.” Katsuki bit his tongue. “Is it because of what that guy said about (Y/N)?” Katsuki whipped around, glaring daggers. Kirishima smiled and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, bro, it’s okay! No one believed him, anyway.”
Katsuki scoffed, taking a swig of the beer. “(Y/N)’s too good for him anyway.”
“I bet you think (Y/N)’s too good for everyone here, right?”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you need to hurry up and tell (Y/N) you like her!” Sero shouted, jumping in out of nowhere.
Katsuki dropped his bottle, Kirishima catching it just in time, and grabbed Sero by the front of his shirt and lifted him up. Sero just grinned his stupid, wide grin.
“Come on, Katsuki,” Denki said, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. “We all know you’ve had a thing for (Y/N) since high school. Why don’t you just put us all out of our misery and tell her already?!”
Katsuki felt his face heat up. “I don’t- I haven’t - Fuck you!” Katsuki couldn’t remember why he was friends with these three idiots as they all burst out into laughter.
He snatched his bottle back and pushed through the crowd. He needed some air. He heard Sero yell after him, “You have to tell her eventually!”
And… That was mostly it. Katsuki’s memories of last night sort of started to trail off after that. He knew that he drank, he drank a lot. At some point he ended up by the pool. And maybe he’d called someone? Oh, hell, he hoped he hadn’t called someone.
His eyes snapped open at the soft groan. There you were, just inches away from his face, fast asleep and tucked in his arms. You were pressed close, breasts pushing against his chest, legs tangled with his, one hand clutching his shirt. Your lips were parted ever so slightly, breathing heavy and even.
And you were so fucking close.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His arms tightened around you and he tensed. How the hell did this happen? Did you actually come to the party last night? When, and why? What had called you down there-?
Oh. Oh, the call! He had called you last night? Some time in his drunken haze he must have figured out to bypass the timed lock he had put on it specifically to avoid calling people with a too-honest tongue. But had you…? Nervously, he looked down. He sighed in relief. You were both still dressed. At least that was one mistake he knew he hadn’t made.
Alright, that was one problem. Now, on to the next one: How was he going to get out of here without waking you up? Craning his head around, he checked out the room. Wait, this was his room. He was in his apartment! A picture of last night started to form in his mind. He’d called you, blabbering God knows what, and then you’d been a good person (why were you such a good person?) and had come to get him, to make sure he was okay. And then what? He’d somehow seduced you into his bed? No, it was more likely you had stayed to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, maybe sat on the bed because it was the middle of the night and you were exhausted, and then… This.
Okay, okay, no, this was fine, he could fix this. He could slip out, let you keep sleeping. He’d make some breakfast in the kitchen and then you’d wake up, wander in rubbing the sleep from your eyes in that cute way you did when you pulled an all-nighter studying. He’d chastise you for lugging his drunk ass up here, for being out so late at night. You’d wave him off, compliment his cooking, tell him to take better care of himself, and then smile up at him with that blindingly beautiful smile and sparkling eyes.
“Morning.” Katsuki yelped at your greeting. He stared, wide-eyed, down at you, as you look back up at him lazily with those sparkling eyes. “It’s kinda hard to breathe here.” He realized then just how tight he was holding you. He jerked backward, his shout of surprise cut off as he fell off the bed. He rubbed his sore hip, looking up when he heard your giggle. You were leaning over the bed, smiling shyly when he caught you staring.
He gulped hard, feeling his face burning up. “Hi.”
You tucked a loose threat of hair behind your ear. “Hi.”
He should say something. He needed to say something. God, why wasn’t he saying something?
“I-“ Katsuki stopped with an incomplete thought in his mouth. He suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, his stomach clenching and throat going dry. Your face dropped as you lunged forward, dragging a bucket in front of him (where did that even come from?). He surged forward, clenching the sides of the bucket in a white knuckled grip, and threw up.
You slid off the bed and knelt next to him. You rubbed small circles in his back, whispering small comforts as he coughed up bile and alcohol and who knows what else. You reached over behind him and grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand.
“Here,” You said. “Rinse and spit. Don’t swallow or gargle, it’ll just mess with your gag reflex.” Rubbing the spike of pain growing in his forehead, he did what you said. When he caught his breath, he accepted the pain killers you had and dry swallowed them. You really had prepared for everything, huh?
Katsuki shoved the bucket away with his foot, leaning back against the bed. “Fuck…”
You hummed in response and scooted to sit next to him. “So,” You said.
“So,” He said back.
“I don’t suppose you remember much from last night?”
He clenched his jaw, mouth going dryer than it already was, if that was possible. He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and strained, even to him. “Hey, we’re both still wearing pants, right?” You didn’t laugh back.
“So that’s a no then?” The seriousness with which you said that made him pause.
“I, uh, think I called you?”
“MmHmm. You didn’t sound too great, so I came to pull you out.”
“Huh. Thanks for that.”
“Yup.” You paused for a second. “Do you remember… anything else you said?”
Fuck.
“Uhh, I owe you breakfast?”
You looked away. “Is there anything you maybe told Sero that you wouldn’t want him to tell me?”
Double fuck.
“If this is about Halloween last year, Mina was the one who brought the Ouija board.” He smirked at you, waiting for you to laugh with him. Instead you didn’t even look up, staring a hole in the carpet with the intensity of your gaze.
You let out a sigh through your nose, pushing off your knees to stand. “I’m gonna head out,” You said, rubbing the back of your head and still not looking at him.
Katsuki jumped up, immediately regretting as his head began swimming. “(Y/N), wait-“ He cut himself off with another surge of nausea and lurched towards the bucket.
“Katsuki,” You said, sounding frustrated. “Look, I…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and turning back to him. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, right? And for all the time I’ve known you, you’ve been stubborn and pig-headed and aggressive and just, you know, you. But still, in all that time, despite everything, I still…” You pressed your lips, looking for the right words. “I’m happy when I’m around you, Katsuki. I feel at ease, I feel protected, I feel like I can be better at anything. And I’ve thought about this a lot, so much that it makes my head spin and my heart hurt, but through all the trouble I still think it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day it means I still get to be with you and sometimes I just feel like that’s enough, but now I…” Your lip was trembling, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to take a big step forward and wrap you in the biggest, tightest hug of your life. Finally, you sighed in defeat. “But if you can’t say it, if the One and Only Katsuki Bakugou can’t say it, then how the hell can I?”
Your voice broke on the last word. Katsuki was so stunned and suddenly pinned with guilt that he couldn’t move when you spun on your heels and rushed out of his apartment.
Oh, fuck.
~~~
“Idiot,” You murmured to yourself as you fled up the apartment stairs, furiously wiping at your eyes to get rid of the oncoming tears. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.” By the time you reached your apartment and slammed the door behind you, you weren’t sure if you were talking about Katsuki or yourself.
You felt sick. Anxiety gnawed at your mind like a starving coyote. Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki? Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki like that? Would he ever speak to you again? Would things just become too awkward that you’d be edged out of your friend group? They had known Katsuki much longer than they had known you, after all. God, what if he was calling Kirishima right now and telling him about the disaster of a morning, after you had taken advantage of his blitz out state and slept in the same bed with him?
Well, no. Kirishima was probably still knocked out from his own night of heavy imbibing. Not to mention that even he, the most kind-hearted and patient person you knew, would have to draw a line at listening to Katsuki rant while dealing with a massive hangover.
And no, Katsuki wouldn’t do that to you. Despite his rough deminor, his abrasive personality, and his profane tongue, Katsuki was actually a sweetheart deep down. Maybe really deep down, but still. He wouldn’t be so intentionally cruel, even if you told him that you shared all of his baby pictures of him playing in his All Might onesie online.
So then why were you still huddled on a heap on the floor, back pressed against the front door, crying? Why was this pit of loneliness blooming in your chest?
You yelped at the sudden banging on the door. Who could be here so early in the morning? You had paid rent this month, right? You sniffed, rubbing your eyes and smoothing out your clothes. You hoped your cheeks weren’t the blotchy red they got whenever you were upset. You took a deep breath to steady your voice for whoever was outside.
Opening the door, you looked up at a wide-eyed Katsuki, panting hard with determination set on his face. You groaned internally.
“Katsuki,” You began,” About what I said, I’m sorr-”
Without waiting for you to finish, Katsuki surged forward. You tried to take a step backward, almost falling, but he caught you, a strong grip on your shoulders. Without waiting for you to get your bearings, Katsuki leaned in, smashing his lips against yours.
It wasn’t a graceful kiss, all clashing teeth and urgency rather than romance. His eyes were screwed closed. He stayed pressed against you, not moving, grip so tight on your upper arms you thought there might be a mark later.
Just as suddenly as he had come forward, he jerked back, but kept his hold on you. You both breathed heavily, eyes locked. Your mind whirled, a hundred voices shouting at the same time. For once, you decided to ignore them and let your body do what it wanted.
You reached up, wrapping your arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulled him back in. This kiss was controlled, soft and sweet. His hands dropped from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. He pressed in harder, adding desperation in the kiss, as if he thought you would vanish any second. When you both pulled away this time, he leaned his forehead against yours, noses bumping into each other, sharing the same breath.
His voice was rough. “Sorry,” He said. “I had to brush my teeth first.”
#bnha#my hero academia#my hero academia x reader#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugou x reader#reader insert#fanfic#bakugo x reader#wafflefriesfic
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Bring Your Daughter(s) To Work Day
Law x Fem Reader (kinda)
When the babysitter cancels last minute, Law is forced to bring his daughters to work with him, and deal with the emotions they unknowingly make him feel.
A/N: SURPRISE- BONUS CHAPTER FOR IMLY!!! this came to me suddenly and i hammered it out. this can be read as a standalone, but i wrote it with the intention of it being directly connected to the universe of my long form fic "I'm Losing You"
Warnings: nothing but pure fluff here, folks. established relationship, third person POV, reader is only present in the beginning and end of the story, some suggestive language sprinkled throughout but nothing explicit
[IMLY Masterlist]
Law watched with dejected eyes as his wife dropped her head into her hands, a harsh groan leaving her lips. Under her breath, quiet enough so her kids couldn’t hear her profanity, she uttered, “Fuck.”
“Let me guess,” Law mumbled. “She canceled?”
“This is the last time we use this babysitter,” she growled, turning off her phone and flipping it upside down so the screen faced the table, ignoring whatever incoming messages might appear. “It’s going to be too late to find any sitters now, and their school doesn’t start for another week. It’s not like we can just drop them off somewhere or leave them here alone.” She picked up her gaze, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. “Law… I can’t miss this interview.”
“I know, baby,” he whispered back, reaching his hand across the kitchen table to stroke her clenched fist. “You’re not going to.”
“Do you have a plan, then?”
Law bit the inside of his cheek as he searched his mind for any feasible solution. One of the biggest interviews of his wife’s career was on the following day, ever since she cordially parted with her last job after having their twins. She spent the first year of their life physically recovering from the birth, as well as having her tubes tied to prevent any more reproductive issues, the couple happily deciding that they were fine with two children. The following toddler years were spent at home with Cora and Rose, his wife being assisted by Uncle Shachi, Uncle Penguin, and Auntie Ikkaku whenever they were free. On days where Law was out of work, he made sure his wife was completely hands-off, taking his daughters out so his wife could spend some much needed time alone or out with her own friends. The two had a comfortable balance, allowing for ample time spent with each other, their daughters, as well as valuing their personal lives. Law’s cardiothoracic surgeon salary was more than enough to afford comfortable living in their small house filled with two six-year-old girls and a dog, but he could tell his wife was desperate to get back to a working schedule again. There was never an issue with having more income, after all, and the doctor knew his wife was never one for the stay-at-home lifestyle for the long-term.
“I’ll bring them with me,” he stated suddenly. His face remained completely neutral.
“What?” she yelped, standing from her chair. “Law, you can’t. You’re a doctor.”
“I don’t have any operations tomorrow, and I’m only working 12 hours. I’ll bring them with me when I leave at 9, and you can pick them up after your interview,” he explained. “I have plenty of staff, and there’s a children’s room in the cardiac ward. They’ll have things to do and people to talk to.”
His wife frantically searched her husband’s face for any sign of indifference or reluctance to his own claim. Finding none, she slowly sank back into her chair. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re absolutely positive?”
“I am.”
“And you promise to not traumatize them?”
Law pursed his lips. The week prior, he found his girls in the backyard poking a dead, gutted rabbit with a stick. He didn’t think he had much to worry about. “I promise.”
Finally letting her shoulders relax, his wife slumped over and rested her forearms on the kitchen table, plopping her head against them and shielding her face from the world. A small chuckle exited Law’s lips as he stood and rounded the furniture, coming to rest behind his wife and placing his deft hands on her shoulders, massaging the knots out of her tired muscles. She visibly relaxed even more from his touch, almost as if she was melting from the motions of his hands.
“You always know exactly what to do to make me feel better,” she sighed, tossing a glance at her smirking husband from over her shoulder.
“Everything’s going to work out. You’ll do amazing at your interview, the girls will behave themselves at work, and we’ll all live happily ever after,” he hummed, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on the back of her head.
“Can you bring home ice cream tomorrow?” she asked, her voice finally regaining its light and airy demeanor as her sullen mood finally lifted.
“Of course.”
—
“Girls.”
Law’s stern golden eyes looked in the rear-view mirror, watching as Cora and Rose immediately snapped their attention to their father from the backseat. Rose clenched a book in her small hands, well above her age’s reading level, while Cora fiddled around with the broken arm of a Stealth Black action figure.
“Remember to be on your absolute best behavior today, alright?” he stated firmly. “I’ll be around to check on you both for most of the day, but when I’m not there, you need to be good for the nurses.”
“We know, daddy,” Cora chirped. “Mama told us you’d be coming home with ice cream if we were good.”
“I’ll be coming home with ice cream regardless,” he replied, a small smile growing on his lips. “But if you’re not good, you won’t be getting any. It’ll just be for Mommy and I.”
He laughed as his daughters screeched from the backseat, flabbergasted at the mere insinuation that they might not get a share of any delectable treats. Fondness welled in his heart as he listened to the twins bicker over their shared behavior. Through their short six years on Earth, they had already grown into strong, individualistic young ladies who were practically inseparable. Law cried on every single birthday. They had turned him into quite a softie.
His foot gently depressed the break of his car as he turned into the sprawling hospital’s parking garage, driving up the ramps to the third floor and slipping into a parking space reserved for staff. He diligently grabbed the large childcare bag from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder before proceeding to free Rose from her restrictive (but very safe) car seat, followed by Cora, who clambered to get out of the car and holler into the echoing abyss of the parking garage, giggling at the way her voice bounced off the concrete pillars and walls surrounding her. Rose held her hands over her ears, cringing at the sound.
“Get it out of your system now, baby, you can’t be yelling like that in the hospital,” Law uttered, grabbing each girl by the hand and slowly walking with them toward the hospital’s entrance connected to the parking garage by a small hallway and two elevator shafts.
Rose firmly gripped her father’s hand in her right, clutching her book in her left. Cora skipped along, tripping over her feet, and sang into the air. “Gather up all of the crew! It’s time to ship out Binks’ brew! Sea wind blows, to where? Who knows! The waves will be our guide!”
Rose mumbled, her small voice whiny and irritated. “Cora, you’ve been singing that all day.”
“I love that song!” the younger girl retorted, almost stepping on Law’s foot. “Uncle Luffy taught it to me.”
Law bit back a smirk, yet rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. Leave it to that boisterous man to introduce his daughters to the life of high-stakes maritime activity. He’d be lying if he said playing pirates with his girls wasn’t some of the most fun he’d had recently, however. It only took a bit of a negative turn when Cora, pretending to be the infamous Blackbeard, landed a punch against Law’s groin so harsh it made him double over. It wasn’t like she knew any better, but amidst his wife’s worried yet hysterical laughter, he wondered if that blow was enough to make him infertile.
He shrugged the thought into the back of his head, releasing Rose’s gentle hand to press the elevator button, leading his girls into the small space and watching in silence as the doors closed in front of them, carrying them down two levels to the cardiac ward.
“Daddy?” Rose asked, looking up at him. “What do you do all day?”
Law pondered briefly. “On days where I don’t have operations, I usually do rounds for patients.”
“What are rounds?” asked the curly-haired girl.
“I go from room-to-room and assess each person’s health and how they’re doing,” he explained.
“Can we join you?” Cora suddenly asked, staring up at her father with her own large, golden eyes.
“I’m afraid not, sweetpea.”
The younger twin pouted before suddenly growing frazzled out of nowhere. “I LEFT MY ACTION FIGURE IN THE CAR!!!”
Rose quickly covered her ears again at her sister’s shrill scream.
“We’ll get it later, baby,” Law tried to console. He nervously glanced at the LCD screen above the button panel, about to reach the first floor. “I can get it for you on my lunch break. Can you wait until then?”
Cora’s face was growing flushed as she puffed out her cheeks, her eyes welling with heavy crocodile tears. “But I want him now! He’s going to die in the car!”
Law rubbed a hand over her hair. “He won’t die.”
“He will!”
“I’ll save him before he does,” he said back. “Shhh, keep your voice down, baby.”
Rose removed her hands from her ears with an audible, relieved sigh. Cora was appeased… for now. She’d have to deal with profound, inescapable boredom until noon, or at least until her mom came to pick the two up and save them from the children’s room at the hospital.
All things considered, the girls were fantastically behaved. They watched on quietly as Law scanned his badge to enter the high-security corridors leading to the cardiothoracic ward, nodding a wordless hello to the various nurses and doctors who passed by, each offering fond, excited smiles to the young girls. The long, winding hallways of the hospital were ginormous in comparison to the twins, who were used to the much smaller hallways of their kindergarten building, but they kept their hands in their father’s as he led them to his ward.
“Can you remember what I said in the car?” the surgeon asked, scanning his badge over one last electronic box on the wall, the click of the door’s lock signaling its opening.
“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Rose obediently replied, more excited to be able to get back to her reading in peace.
“We promise,” Cora added. She opened her small mouth one more time, as if to add a second thought, but quickly shut her jaw and stared straight ahead. Law cocked an eyebrow at the display, but didn’t question it further. If the little girl had an issue, she would immediately let him know.
There was a children’s room, which was really just a small space situated behind one of the nurses stations, used primarily for families with very small children. When a person would be admitted to the cardiac ward, any potential juvenile visitors were welcome to use the children’s area to remove them from the otherwise clinical, scary environment of the hospital. The entire space was stocked with coloring books, light reading for ages 4-10, building blocks, and other miscellaneous playthings, all thoroughly sanitized before and after each visit.
When Law rounded the corner into the doorway of the children’s area, Rebecca was crouched down on the floor, diligently wiping down a set of large plastic building blocks with a sanitizing wipe. Her large, brown eyes glimmered as she saw Cora and Rose, having not seen them in quite some time. It wasn’t like Law brought them to work often.
“There are the guests of honor!” sang the pink-haired woman, discarding the wipe into a nearby trash receptacle and hurrying toward her superior and his two excited daughters. The girls pulled away from their dad and hugged Rebecca’s legs, instantly remembering the warm smile and bright laughter of the nurse who happily knelt to their level and pulled them to her chest. “It’s so wonderful to see you two again!”
“Let me know if they give you any trouble, Rebecca,” Law sighed, smiling at the sight albeit scrunching his eyebrows at the potential his children had for causing petty issues. They were their mother’s daughters, after all. Their well-behaved exterior made room for some very sinister six-year-old schemes.
“How could these sweet angels cause any trouble at all?” Rebecca giggled, ruffling Rose’s head of thick, curly black hair. “I will, though, sir. No problem at all.”
“I’ll be back in about two hours for my short break. Cora, Rose…” the surgeon called their names, alerting their attention once more.
The silence in the room was palpable as Law brought two of his fingers to his eyes, gesturing his hand toward their faces as if giving a silent threat that he had his eye on them, even if not in the same room. He had a playful smirk on his face as he did so, leading Cora to stick her tongue out at her dad. Rose gave her sister a light shove, harshly whispering about the ice cream reward still looming over their heads.
—
Two hours and far too many patient rounds finally came and went before Law was able to take a short break, proceeding to the children’s room with his ample amount of paperwork in an accordion binder held in his arms. He’d be able to get some time to work on it while sitting on the floor at the squatted table while he gave his nurse a much needed reprieve from his daughters. While marching through the long hallways of the cardiac ward, the surgeon pulled out his phone and smiled at the text that had come in from his wife, about 30 minutes prior.
Mama
What do you think of this fit??? I mean, im going with it, but do i look hot and professional?
Mama
[1 Image Attachment]
Mama
Right answers only. Also, are the girls behaving alright???
His wife did indeed look stunning. Her curves fit elegantly into a sharp, black pencil skirt that flared slightly below her knees. Sheer tights complimented her supple skin, and sophisticated yet casual wedge heels boosted her height by a good inch or so. She was posing in the mirror of their bedroom, one hip jutted out propping up her free hand that she graced over her waist. A trendy blouse was tucked into the skirt, the top few buttons still undone. Grinning down at his phone and holding his folder tighter against his abdomen, he fumbled to type out a response while walking.
You know you look stunning, baby. Absolutely gorgeous. You’re going to do up those top buttons, though, right?
He watched the incoming message bubble appear and disappear a few times before her response came in.
Mama
Duh, i was just hoping that showing off some cleavage would give me extra points with you <3
Law fought to bite down the chuckle that rose in his throat, not wanting to attract attention. As long as I get to undo those buttons later. He was feeling bold today.
Mama
Ice cream first, sex later. Love you baby <333
Law quickly shoved his phone into his pocket after thumbing out a quick good luck message for her upcoming interview, which she was surely traveling to at that very moment. He pushed open the door to the children’s room, quickly pushing back any inappropriate thoughts of his beautiful wife and smiling at the sight of his daughters.
Cora was in the middle of utilizing every single building block the room had to build a convoluted structure that took a plethora of odd shapes. She was being assisted by another young girl who’s curious violet eyes watched inquisitively at each new block added to the structure. Rose was in the adult-sized chair across the room, her nose buried in a new book. Judging by her original book on the floor by the legs of the chair, she had finished that one after only two days. A new literary record. Rebecca was absent from the room, most likely having left to continue her own duties, but judging by the faint smell of light cleaning alcohol in the room, she hadn’t been gone long.
With a smile, Law sat on the floor across from his daughter’s, and the new girl’s, strange structure. “What are you building?”
“A submarine. Can’t you tell?” Cora replied, placing a pink-colored block on top of an ominously leaning stack.
The new girl, who’s hair was a deep shade of purple, stared at Law with huge, curious eyes before a cheeky grin broke out on her face. “Are you the doctor taking care of my papa?” she asked.
Law grinned. “Could be. Who’s your papa?”
“Tenguyama Hitetsu,” she confirmed cheerily. “Well, he’s not actually my papa, but he also is.”
A lightbulb clicked on in his head. He had just been in Mr. Tanguyama’s room, and had no idea that the elderly man had any child under his care. It was then he remembered that the man had described a young girl as his ‘student’ rather than ‘daughter,’ but he still spoke about her with such fond language. Kurozumi Tama.
“Tama’s been helping me build,” blurted Cora, bringing herself to her feet to place another block on the tower attached to what was supposed to be a submarine.
“You two make a good team,” Law replied fondly as he turned his attention to his oldest daughter. “Rose, what are you reading?”
Her new book was substantially thicker than the one she brought with her. There were no pictures on the cover. She tilted the object down only slightly to speak with her father. “Rebecca brought it for me when I asked. It’s a book about common heart conditions in adults.”
Somehow, Law was not surprised. He didn’t even question it, watching as the black-haired girl turned her attention back to her book, disregarding any potential response from her father. Without another word, and without wanting to distract the kids from their intense focus, he scooted across the floor to the squatted table and opened his accordion folder, flipping through his paperwork to pass his two hour break, counting his blessings that he had such easy, albeit… strange, children.
He couldn’t stay focused long enough to begin filling out his patient charts, however. Especially not when he was swarmed with thoughts about his family. As he picked his gaze up and glanced across the room at his daughters immersed in their own little worlds, happy as clams in their special ways, he couldn’t fight the swelling in his heart. His wife, after worlds of difficulty, had given him two of the greatest gifts of his life. Those gifts were now six years old, about to start first grade, reading above their level, building and drawing, holding conversations, and were filled with boundless love. They hadn’t yet reached the age where they were embarrassed to hold hands with their dad in public, and they were still too young to fully understand the world around them, but it was clear as day to the surgeon that his little girls were bound to learn the tough realities of their lives sooner rather than later. It made his chest pang thinking of how quickly they had grown up. It felt like just yesterday that Law was by his wife’s side in the delivery room, finally holding his babies after they were allowed to leave the NICU, happy, healthy, and already beginning to babble and whine for their next feeding. He remembered looking at his wife, the woman of his dreams, who had gone through far more than any human should in bringing these girls into the world, kissing her lips and thanking her, thanking whatever deity was in the heavens that she was still alive and well.
“Daddy?”
Rose’s voice broke Law from his trance, his sharp golden eyes darting up to meet hers. The book was folded in her lap, her hands tracing the embossed letters on the hard cover.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice small and concerned.
A lump developed at the base of Law’s throat. His girls looked so much like his wife. He forced the rock down his esophagus and smiled at his little girl.
“I’m just fine, sweetpea.”
—
Law had needed to stay for an extra hour and a half after his shift was supposed to end, much to his distaste. After his close-call to an emotional outburst that afternoon, he wanted nothing more than to run home, embrace his wife in a hug, and cuddle with her on the couch with the ice cream that he had promised her. When he was finally able to slip into his car, the backseats empty (save for the Stealth Black action figure that was completely forgotten about by noon) with Cora and Rose having been picked up by their mom, he pulled out his phone to send his wife a text only to find that she had sent him one first.
Mama
Look how tuckered out they are!!!
Mama
[1 Image Attachment]
Mama
What did you do to them??? LOL
The image was immediately saved to Law’s camera app. Cora and Rose were curled up on the plush carpet in their living room on both sides of Bepo who was sprawled out on his back. Their little arms wrapped around the dog’s torso, their faces squished into his warm, white fur as they snoozed in one conjoined unit. He quickly tapped out a text that he was coming home, placing his phone in his bag and proceeding out of the parking garage as quickly as he could. With the only places still open at that hour being the gas station, he stopped at the nicest one in town and picked up three pints of ice cream, as well as a few extra treats to surprise the girls with when their new friend, Tama, came over for a playdate in a few days.
When Law finally entered his house, the only light still on was the lamp beside the couch. All the curtains were drawn, shrouding the living room in a pleasant, dim warmth. His wife was on the couch, laying back with her phone in her hand. She quickly stood up when Law entered, excitedly yet quietly closing the gap between them and capturing her husband’s lips in a tender kiss. He cheekily took the freezing bag containing the ice cream and pressed it against the thin cotton t-shirt she wore to bed, cooling her skin and making her suppress a surprised yelp. She giggled as she playfully batted Law’s chest.
“You tease!” she whispered. “I don’t wanna wake the girls.”
“With the way they were sleeping in that picture, I doubt we’ll wake them up,” he replied, his voice low as his lips stole another kiss, lingering a few moments longer. His heart fluttered at the feeling of his wife smiling into his gesture, her hands trailing over his chest, shoulders, and up into his fluffy black hair.
When she pulled away, he finally noticed the blouse she still wore, all the buttons done up. “Good, because you still have to take this off of me. I’m uncomfortable.” She snatched the bag out of his hands, procuring her own pint of ice cream. “After this, obviously.”
“Of course, of course.” Law followed her lead, grabbing his own treat after placing his other goods into the freezer and following his wife to the couch with two spoons in hand. Bepo was on his dog bed snoring up a storm, which he had been doing much more often in his older age.
“How did your interview go?” he finally asked, smiling as his wife snuggled into his size, using a blanket to grip her ice cream without freezing her hand.
“I think it went well, I was so nervous, though. I had to apply an extra layer of deodorant in the car because I was sweating so much,” she explained. “But the manager seemed pleased with my resume. And she knew Ms. Boa, so hopefully that means my recommendations will be worth it.”
Law held her close while opening his own ice cream. “I’m sure it will be. You’re a shoe in for that position.”
“You’re just saying that,” she mumbled, taking a spoonful of the frozen treat.
“You like when I say things,” Law replied with a smirk on his lips.
She sunk further into his chest, letting his warmth embrace her. Her mind swirled with images of the man, when they started dating, when he proposed, on their wedding night, in the hospital multiple times, holding his daughters… the woman blinked away fond tears and swallowed her emotions with another hefty spoonful of ice cream.
“What are you thinking about, gorgeous?” asked the man behind her, his voice gruff and tired from a long day in the hospital.
“Nothing…” she mumbled back, hiding her face in his neck. “Just how lucky I am to have you.”
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#one piece x reader#op x reader#trafalgar law x reader#law x reader#trafalgar d water law x reader#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law#im losing you
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Pick-A-Card: Channeled Messages From Your Past Life Spouse
Hello and Welcome! In this reading we will find out what your past life spouse wants to say to you. Take a deep breath and choose between these three piles. Trust your intuition!
Groups are from left to right.
Group 1:
I see ships, seas, and sailors. There’s a lot of noise, so the ship must be preparing for a long journey. I’m also seeing festive gowns, specifically a pink one with flowers sewn onto it. You could have been on this ship and sailed somewhere for a vacation or a better life in general.
“Oh, what I would do to hold you in my arms again. This journey changed a lot in us: you always were reckless, unstoppable, uncatchable, you always wanted to be on the go. Me? I’ve always liked my solitude. I’d much rather read a book, smoking a cigar, and sipping on a fine whiskey than to go and dance and whatnot. I don’t know how you convinced me to go on this journey, but I wish you hadn’t. Maybe our lives would have turned out differently. I wouldn’t have lost you. Where are you? I keep missing you, but I don’t even know if you’re there. I’m here. Stuck. Alone. With my demons and a bottle of whiskey I used to love. You’re gone. You’re gone. I need to accept that. But how? How can I? I can’t drown this love. I can only cloak it, fog it. I’m lost without you. [their energy is extremely heavy. If they are incarnated during this lifetime, they might suffer from substance abuse and/or other form of addiction. I would say they pretty much need your help if you are willing to help them. Some ways that you could help them is sending a message (telepathically if you don’t know them during this lifetime) that you are here, and you will be there for them as they get their life together again].
Group 2:
It feels like they are your spouse in every lifetime. It feels like you are always together. Even if not as a spouse, they are there as your friend, a mentor, a family member, and so on and so forth. Therefore, it is likely you will also meet in this lifetime if you haven’t already. You have a deep spiritual connection and understanding of each other. They are possibly your Twin Flame or Soulmate or of any other spiritual connection you find to be deep.
“Your softness and the softness of your touch… Take my hand. Let’s run away. Let’s run away to our safe haven. You know the one we kept a secret? The one only we knew about? The best days were spent there. Oh, how I wish to get back there. The things we shared, your warm embrace and soft lips… This is enough to make a sane man go insane. You drive me crazy. I’m head over heels for you. You can have me. All of me. Like you always did.”
Group 3:
I’m getting poets, love letters’ vibes, so your past life spouse could have been a poet who wrote you multiple love letters. They feel very gentle, very passionate and very relaxed, also quite spiritual or religious. They are smart and could have been quite the handyman around the house. I’m hearing vows from the Corpse Bride, so this could mean they love you like that – deeply and surely. Also there could have been a third party between you in that lifetime, but your spouse neither you gave into them and kept on being loyal to one another.
“If I wrote a letter to the other side, do you think you would receive it? If I wrote another letter to my other half, do you think they would read it? If I screamed at the top of my lungs that I am yours and only yours, would you hear it? My love…My love for you is endless, it is vast as if it is the Universe itself. My love for you has no beginning and no end – it’s infinite like the stars that you can’t count at night. You are like the Sun, illuminating me like the Moon. You are my guiding light, my guiding star.”
#free readings#psychic readers#psychic readings#psychic#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a picture#pick a photo#pick an image#pick a reading#pick a card reading#pick-a-card#pick-a-card reading#past life readings#past life spouse#past life#past life family
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CHAPTER 11
status: ongoing
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…
Masterlist
rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)
Before to start... Thank you for your support, for your likes and reblog, thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving comments 🫶 if you don't like it don't be rude and keep going. 😉 Please remember English is not my first language, so please be merciful! 🙏
Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner and thanks @saradika-graphics for the divider.
Taglist: @harriedandharassed
The next day you wake up against the door of your room, you don't know what time it is or what day it is, you don't have your cell phone, you feel dazed, your eyes are swollen which you open with difficulty, you only see that it is daytime because the sunlight illuminates your room, you barely get up and go to the window.
People walk quietly down the street, there are small groups of kids walking here and there, a couple of couples holding hands, a father and daughter walking hand in hand. You rest your hands on the window feeling miserable and burdened, you place your forehead against the window and close your eyes, you think of Joel, who knows if he called, if he wrote to you!
You hope your mother didn't read or see his calls!
Luckily you have the block on your phone.
“You don't want to fly away? Then fly away,” you think back to Joel's words.
You open your eyes again, walk to the door, and make to open it, but it's still closed.
“Mom? Mom open it.”
You hear her footsteps, and this time after a few seconds the door opens, your mother is wearing a red coat, her hair is combed back, she is lightly made up, and she is still peering at you coldly.
She doesn't speak; she waits for you to do so.
“I don't deserve this,” you tell her, wanting to use a firm tone of voice, but your tone of voice is shaky.
“I don't know what to do with you anymore.” she says in a defeated tone of voice “I thought making you attend my prayer group, making you take music lessons would make you better than your father, and instead…” she leaves the sentence hanging.
When she wants to hurt you, she compares you to your father.
You don't know exactly what he did, but it is certainly something very serious. Or so you have always guessed from her words and the tone she uses when she mentions about him.
“Excuse me if I'm not the daughter you wish,” you tell her.
Usually when she compare you to the other parent, you always told her what can I do to change your mind, she told you that you should study and try harder, be more obedient, and after a few weeks, serenity returned between the two of you because you got back in line, in her lines. Today, you don't want to say that statement anymore. It is not fair that everything you want is constantly repressed and belittled. It is not fair that she prevents you from seeing someone. You cannot allow that.
Your mother sighs, then shakes her head.
“So who was the man Mrs. Bixby saw?” she asks again.
You don't want to get Joel in trouble, you can't.
“His name is Jack.” you answer her “I met him when I was waiting for you at the end of my music class, I had finished a few minutes earlier and went into a bar to have a glass of water.” you tell her.
“We're getting somewhere.” she says hearing you confess “How long have you been seeing him? Have you seen him again? What does he do?” she begins with her many questions.
“Since a couple of months, Jack studies psychology. We've always seen each other in public places like the library, restaurant, diner, never here or at his home. Nothing has ever happened, if that's what you care to know,” you say finding a firmer tone of voice.
If she knew what you do with Joel.
“I'd like to meet him,” she says.
“Mom it's a little early, we don't know each other yet to have him come here to the house,” you try to dissuade her.
“I insist!”
You lower your head, you don't have a choice. By now you have to do this or your mother would start again and forbid you any kind of outing.
“All right,” you reply not at all enthusiastically.
Instead, she seems to visibly calm down, “Fine,” she says.
“Where are you going?” you ask her.
“I go to church.” she replies and then she turns her back on you, “Ah, your damn cell phone has been ringing nonstop!” she exclaims.
You leave and make to go to the kitchen to get it back, but your mother once again stops you with her words “I saw there are messages from your friends and at least two from Joel Miller. None from Jack. It's kind of strange that he's not looking for you, isn't it?” she says making you freeze.
“We had a fight two nights ago,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders.
“Well, I'm going then.”
You nod, when you hear the door close you resume breathing normally and run to unlock your cell phone. You call Joel immediately.
“Baby, finally!” he exclaims in an alarmed tone “I was scared for you. You okay?” he asks you.
“Joel, when are you coming?” you ask him not answering his question using an alarmed tone.
“I'm home. D' ya wanna me to pick you up?” he asks you in the same tone.
“No. Um, listen,” you check the door, “my mother suspects something. I can't make you come down here to me anymore, I'll come to you. I'll wait for her to go to the hospital tonight and then I'll sneak out. Okay?”
The door opens and you immediately close the phone pretending you are going to get some cookies for breakfast. Your mother is back, she forgot something she tells you and then goes out again. You breathe a huge sigh of relief, then go back to look at your phone and text Joel “Sorry I ended the call, I couldn't talk. I wish I didn't have to force you to go through this… “
Joel calls you back, you answer.
“You're going to tell me everythin' tonight. 7 o'clock 's okay for you?” he tells you.
If you could, you'd run straight to him.
“Yes. See you tonight,” you tell him, “Bye.”
“Miller careful with that or you'll end up without something very dear to you!” exclaims his colleague, the only female presence on the site, the only friend Joel has and who knows all about you and who has eagerly seen your presence in his friend's life.
Her name is Tess, she pats Joel's shoulders to call him to attention, he looks up and she smiles at him.
“Hey.” Joel greets her thoughtfully, the man is splitting bricks, but the cuts are inaccurate.
Tess stays behind him, “What?” asks Joel.
“Those bricks need to be split four inches farther apart, and then the angle is wrong.” Joel snorts, “What's the matter, Miller?”
“Nothin'.” his tone does not convince Tess, who grabs a rickety chair and sits down. She says nothing, just observes Joel continuing that wrong slanted cut.
Joel snorts, actually you are his fixed thought, at first he was attracted to you because of your sweetness and great insecurity towards the world, towards everything that was unknown to you and he couldn't help but think of your eyes and its endless expressions of astonishment, joy, fear, but also desire and love as you you know each other. When you met, he would have thought anything but to think so much about someone after what had happened to his daughter Sarah and then with his partner! Indeed, when his brother Tommy had asked him to tell his pupil that there would be no more meetings, he never thought he would meet a sweet, pure and fragile girl like you, never thought he would find himself captivated by you, never.
“If you want to talk, I'm here,” Tess says again, lighting a cigarette.
Joel gives her a sidelong glance, “There's not much to say.” Joel picks up the hammer breaking another block.
“Is it about her, isn't it?” she asks.
Joel nods pronouncing your name in a whisper with such delicacy and sweetness as if you were the most precious gem in the world to him.
“I would like to be strong for both of us,” Joel says, throwing the hammer just farther, “but the truth is that knowin' her in danger, in this state of duress, hurts me. What I want is to hold her in my arms and tell her that I will always keep her safe with me.”
Joel quickly realizes, however, that this is not possible. You might have been thrilled about it, but while he himself would have been very happy about it, he still has a lot of doubts about how right it is to bond you with someone like him.
“Did you tell her about Jess?” Tess asks him, taking a puff of her cigarette.
“Yes.” Joel replies immediately, moving away from there and toward the scaffold. Tess follows him in a half-step, “I told her in a nutshell that it didn't end in the best way between us.”
“Did you also tell her she's around and from time to time you see her?” she asks him, resting her forearms on the scaffold's balustrade. Joel gives her a long, penetrating look that counts as an answer, which is no.
Joel still cannot talk about her unfiltered because to do so would mean talking about Sarah, and Sarah is a chapter of his life that he does not want to share with anyone. Unless he has to.
“I know you were really bad first about Sarah and then about Jess, but maybe with her you could-”
“Tess, do you mind if we don't talk about those years of my life at all,” the tone of his voice does not allow for different replies.
“All right.” Tess says “I had felt that you cared particularly for her.”
Joel sighs heavily. He is trying to remember why he still addresses the woman. At that moment it escapes him.
“Yes.”
“If it was a sex thing, I wouldn't have told you to talk to her about who-you-know.” she adds “But from what I understand it's more than that.” the man looks at her with an enigmatic gaze and Tess's eyes go wide “You haven't yet-- oh my God, then this is a serious thing!” she exclaims with a half-smile “And who would have expected old Miller to fall in love again!” she exclaims again patting the man's shoulder who rolls his eyes shaking his head.
Joel looks toward the buildings still under construction, he doesn't like to talk about his feelings, he was never good at expressing them if the situation was clear. Let alone today with you who are so much younger than him, you are absolutely inexperienced and naive! Nonetheless, Joel can't do without you or think about you.
Evening comes and Joel is in great apprehension about you: your voice, your tone were strongly cracked, your words had put him in a state of great agitation.
He has tidied up the house at the least, ordered Italian food, and he's waiting for you with great impatience.
When you knock on the door, he immediately runs to open it. Joel does not even have time to greet you, that you pounce on him, encircling his neck with your arms and burying your head in the crook of his neck. Joel wraps both arms around you and holds you tightly to him, closing his eyes.
“Baby.” he whispers in your ear then kissing one forehead “You're safe.” he tells you increasing his grip even more and then sinking a hand into your hair “My poor baby.” he repeats, you can't speak, you feel overwhelmed, you just stay in that position and inhale his strong scent.
You have, the two of you have, chills.
You can't separate yourself from that embrace, you don't know what to say to each other, but maybe that embrace is worth more than many words.
You eat in silence and only afterwards, when you are on the couch, you lying with your head on his thighs and him gently stroking your hair, you tell him what happened with your mother, you tell him that you are afraid to be there, that you would like to get out of there, to run away. You've always felt this state of oppression, but never as tightly as the night before.
“Please go away. You can come to me,” he tells you.
You look at him with a surprised look, you had thought about your friends, but certainly not him.
“Joel, I…”
“Think about it, but I don't want to know you're in danger. If something happened to you--” you raise your head and stand beside him "I could never forgive myself."
“Sssh,” you say as you sit on his lap, resting a finger on his lips, “I'm here now.”
He gently kisses your fingertip making your skin crawl, you smile at him and then pounce on his lips.
Spending the night in his bed gave you back an ounce of courage that your mother had previously deprived you of, breathing in his strong scent relaxes you, being hugged by him all night long makes you feel good and peaceful all of a sudden. In the morning you wake up like this still hugging each other: you have your back to him, he still holds you tightly to him, you open your eyes, your eyes still pinch a little from the loud crying of the night before, but you feel better already. You feel him moving just behind you, mumbling some unintelligible words, and you find yourself smiling and turning slowly toward him with your face and then your torso. You watch, thanks to the first light of dawn filtering through his bedroom window, his face still stretched out, his lips parted, his beard growing.
You find him wonderful.
You don't want to disturb him, but you can't help the urge to caress him. You gently stroke with your fingertip the contour of his face, his angular nose, the barely noticeable wrinkle between his eyebrows, his forehead, his beard, then his lips.
Joel begins to wake up, smiling and muttering “Gmrning.” you find yourself smiling back before returning his greeting only to find your eyes in each other's. Those sweet chocolate eyes settle on you, he smiles at you and then holds you tightly to him again, you find yourself smiling at each other and exchanging sweet kisses, gently caressing each other.
“I would stay like this all day,” you confess to him, afraid to put your foot out the door of his house because you know that once you are out everything will go back to the way it was before and you will go back to being the one forced to act a certain way, to be a certain way. You don't want to, you don't want to. But you have to.
“I'm here for you. If that's what you wish…” he smiles at you, caressing your face this time with a finger "you will be granted." he says placing a finger on your lips, you gently press your lips against his fingertip without looking away from his eyes. You love to see how the expression in his eyes changes when you do something especially good for him, how his eyes seem to get bigger and darker. Which happens even now.
“Joel…” you say without finish your sentence.
He whispers your name, he pronounce it with desire.
You bridge that very short distance that separates you at once, your lips rest against each other, they open in unison, and your tongues dance at first softly then almost wildly, it is a kiss that takes your breath away.
You wish he would touch you, you wish he would do more-- but you feel it, Joel is like he is always holding back with you. Maybe it's you who has to help him.
You take his hand and bring it to your breast, you know you will drive him crazy. Indeed, his breathing becomes shorter and you find yourself smiling into the kiss. Glad to have provoked a reaction in him.
“Little girl…” he says to your lips, his tone of voice should be a sort of a warning or do you imagine that's what he means using that tone, but you deliberately ignore his tone and instead you look him in the eyes for a long time before saying, “Will you teach me to make you feel as good as you did with me?”
His eyes become if possible even darker, “No.” he answers you dryly “Not yet. You're not ready.” he adds, swallowing.
“You're afraid.” you say moving away from him, he turns supine “You're afraid to cross the line with me, aren't you?” you insist, he looks at you “Well, we've already crossed it. I touch myself because of you, if I have to say it!” you add feeling the heat on your cheeks "You make me feel so good, why can't I do it with you too?" he doesn't answer you, he looks at the ceiling.
You also turn in a supine position, you look away. You don't say anything, you don't know what to say. If he doesn't want to, you cannot make him.
“You don't trust me.” you say after what to you seems like hours of silence, you turn completely away “All right.” you add feeling a knot in your throat, you first feel him move to the other side of the bed then you feel a hand caressing your side and finally you feel a strand of hair move and a kiss behind your ear. You shiver, wanting to hold the point, but you already know you won't last much longer, not with him kissing that sensitive portion of your skin and then moving down to kiss along your neck.
More shivers run down your spine as his unshaven beard brushes against your neck, you turn toward him finding yourself lost in a kiss again. He almost pulls you toward him, you groan from surprise and also from the arousal that is spreading inside you and spreads even more as he towers over you completely. He breaks the kiss and you find your eyes meeting. His hot breath breaks against you and you find yourself closing your eyes.
Like other times, anything could happen out there, but if you are with him you really don't care.
He places a kiss on the tip of your nose and you smile. You smile again.
“D' you wanna try somethin' new?” he asks.
You open your eyes nodding.
He sits in the middle of the bed, you also make to sit, but he shakes his head saying, “Stay down and lemme do it. Honey, if you feel uncomfortable, if you have any pain, stop me right now, okay?”
“What is this about?” you ask him leaning on your forearms.
He looks at you, “I want to touch that your tight little hole with my fingers.”
You flush more at his dirty tone of voice than at what he said, “Haven't you already done that?” you ask him uncertainly.
“Not exactly.” you look at him questioningly “I've only touched a small part of you, I'd like to go deeper.” you swallow “If you don't wanna to-”
“No, no!” you quickly interrupt him “All right. What should I do?” you ask him.
He leans toward you caging you in his arms, he lays a quick kiss on your lips and then returns to sit in the middle of the bed, “Can I take 'em off?”
You nod as he lays his hands on the elastic of your shorts, looks you once more in the eyes as if seeking your consent once more, consent which comes immediately by just raising your pelvis allowing him to remove your shorts and briefs in one move, remaining completely naked from the waist down.
It's not the first time he touches you, but this time you are completely exposed to his sight and it sends more discharges of arousal all along your body especially noticing his equally lust-filled gaze.
He pounces on your lips almost sucking your lips and tongue together, you groan in surprise at that kiss so different from the others, “You are beautiful.” you tell him through your lips feeling him smile and looking into your eyes.
He grazes your nose with the tip of his nose, “You are perfect, baby.” he comments leaving a trail of moist kisses along the line of your jaw and then down your neck.
You drop your head back, blissfully surrendering to his lips and then to his hands gently resting on your breasts, moaning softly as you close your eyes.
“Are you aroused yet?” he asks you.
You nod, “Yes.”
“Lemme see.” he says and then caresses with his left hand your thigh, then your inner thigh and finally there, your intimacy, you squeeze your eyes shut, he hasn't touched you yet and you already feel those familiar tremors inside you.
“You're already soaked.” he says, you open your eyes and look at him questioningly, “Is that wrong?” you ask him puzzled.
“Absolutely not.” he replies running a finger along your intimacy causing you to hold your breath “It means you're already ready.” he explains repeating the same motion back and forth, you find yourself biting your lower lip and clenching your toes feeling an ever-increasing heat spreading to your lower abdomen.
“R - ready for what?” you ask tremblingly, but curious.
“For me.” he answers you with lust-filled eyes as he continues that precise, slow movement “Relax, don't be afraid.” he tells you noticing your tense expression.
“I am not afraid.” you reply looking into his eyes, and it's true you know that whatever he will do, it won't hurt you. You know that you are safe with him and that you would do anything with him.
“Now I'm going to insert my finger inside your cunt,” you swallow “I'm going to do it very slowly, if you have pain or feel uncomfortable, tell me and I'll stop.” he says scrutinizing your face carefully, his gaze tense, focused, full of desire. You nod barely trembling with desire.
Slowly he slides inside you first just the calloused fingertip as you almost jerk to feel part of his finger inside your taut and tender flesh, you tremble with desire, a boiling desire that reverberates in every cell of your body; he stays like this for a while then slides the phalanx inside you, you drop your head on the pillow feeling you are in a world out of the ordinary, you find yourself spreading your lips wide as if searching for oxygen, moaning softly.
“Jus' a lil more.” he warns you before inserting the phalanx inside you. You clench the blankets in the fist of your hands and moan softly, “You're so excited, my baby.” you feel him kiss you on the lips, but you can't kiss him back, you're seeing stars behind your eyelids, it's indescribable.
Then, he sinks inside you again and you open your eyes suddenly, you look down and seeing his finger fully sinked inside you is an even more arousing sensation, feeling his long, thick finger reach such intimate parts of you makes you wet even more “How's it goin'?” he asks you.
Your vision is almost blurred, you are at a loss for words, you just nod.
He leans over to you and kisses you gently on the lips, slowly lets his finger out inside you and this hollow feeling makes you moan into his mouth, then slowly slips his finger back into you making you moan again. He repeats this movement with a slow rhythm that makes the desire inside you grow faster and faster. You moan surrendering to the pleasure he is giving you with that relentless rhythm of his, lips parted and completely exposed to him. Then, with a confident movement, Joel also touches your throbbing center sending you more discharges of pure lust, you no longer know what to focus on, whether on his finger touching hitherto unexplored areas of you or on the palm of his hand caressing your clit.
Hearing you moan against him makes him instinctively close his eyes and breathe deeply, he feels the contractions of your next climax squeeze his finger and the lust spreads strong inside him, he would have liked to make you cum in his mouth or around his cock, but he still has to restrain himself.
Your climax explodes violently causing you to gasp and clench the blankets even more tightly in your fist. The room suddenly becomes silent.
There is only your shortness of breath.
“How d' ya feel?” he asks after a couple of minutes of silence, giving you a cloud-light kiss on your neck as the waves of climax slowly leave you.
“Fine.” you reply, still nodding with your eyes closed.
He slowly kisses your forehead, then your cheek and finally your lips. You open your eyes and exchange a sweet smile.
“Would you like some breakfast?” you ask him after a while.
“Pancakes?” he offers.
You smile, “That'd be perfect.”
You slip back into your briefs and shorts and go downstairs to make breakfast.
You found out one more thing about him: Joel is a disaster in the kitchen, first he forgot to add milk to the mixture, then he dropped an egg on the floor in short you did nothing but laugh during this rocambolic breakfast preparation.
You manage after almost an hour to sit at his kitchen worktop eating your pancakes, you add some honey, raspberries and blueberries. You eat in silence, only exchanging long glances, then after you bite into the last piece, you tell him, “I've been thinking about the title of my story.”
He nods chewing, “And that is?”
“Bittersweet.” you reply, smiling at him.
You see him swallow, “What's it about?” he asks you.
“It's the story of a young woman and her music teacher, a man who is apparently an asshole, actually very sweet and who will help his student to become more and more confident,” you tell him in outline, turning to face him.
He smiles conspiratorially, “That reminds me of somethin'.”
“Huh, yeah!” you exclaim, returning that look and his smile.
“D' you wanna start writing now?” he asks you.
“Do you mind?” you ask him.
He turns to you, then gently taking your chin between his fingers he says, “If you ask me with these sweet eyes, I can't say no.” you lower your gaze for a moment, “Well, I'll take the opportunity to take a shower and then put up a couple of shelves in the living room. You set up wherever you like, here, in the study above, in the bedroom, wherever you like.”
What did you do to deserve such a man?
“Do you mind if I sit on the couch in the living room?” you ask him, this is his house and it seems more than fair to ask his permission before moving anywhere you want.
He leans toward you giving you a sweet kiss on the lips, “Wherever you want.” you smile, then lays his forehead against yours and takes his leave. He sees you turn on the computer, cross your legs and lay the laptop on your lap. He sees you open the program to write, Joel has never understood much about computers and stuff like that, he has always been an analog guy, always loved manual work.
Joel goes into his bedroom and lies down on the bed, feeling alive. He is feeling good for the first time in a long time, living the little moments of everyday life with you makes him feel good, alive and special. He didn't believe that someone like him after all he has experienced could again hold someone in his arms who makes him feel welcomed, loved, who tries to make him feel good, it is a wonderful feeling.
He breath deeply, the scent of you is still strong in his room.
Joel was about to give in earlier when you had asked him to pleasure him, was about to say okay, but that wouldn't have been right. Joel becomes more and more aware that yours is not just a physical attraction, yes of course there is that too. Yet when you are apart he cannot help but think of your scent, your eyes, your smile, your sweetness, your need to be welcomed, cuddled, loved.
He feels his cock throbbing at the thought of your narrowed eyes and wide-open mouth, as he was pleasuring you with his fingers for the first time, the memory of you so tight and wet causes him another jolt. He undresses completely and goes to the shower, he opens the water jet and finds himself thinking that he would love to have you here with him, he imagines what he would do if you were there together. He'd press you against the shower wall and you'd look at him with those wide eyes of yours in surprise, he'd kiss your neck and you'd close your eyes, he'd press himself against you and kiss every inch of your body, he'd feel you tense up and beg for more.
How he would love to have and give more!
He wraps his taut erection in his fist, the roar of the water covers his moans, his heavy breathing, the image of you clinging to him, your arms encircling his neck, he imagines you giving him pleasure. He grits his teeth to disguise the long moan that comes out of his mouth as streams of his hot seed fall partly into his fist and partly against the shower wall.
“Fuck…” he says, resting his forehead against the shower wall.
He washes himself thoroughly, then gets out of the shower. He dries off, puts on old jeans and a black T-shirt he usually uses to do chores around the house, and comes downstairs. He sees you drinking a glass of water in the kitchen, he reaches you out and he wraps his arms around you, and you smile sweetly at him, “How's the writing of your masterpiece goin'?” he asks.
“Don't tease me now,” you reply to him, setting the glass down in the sink.
“I'm not teasing you.” he says giving you a kiss under your ear “If 's something of yours, it's certainly unique. Beautiful. To me, a masterpiece.” you turn to him finding eyes in each other's eyes, he places a kiss on the tip of your nose, you chuckle "I hope everyone gets it, that you can work up the courage to sign up for some classes and they'll notice you, that they can read you sooner or later." he confides.
“Then I wouldn't be here with you anymore,” you say in a huff that makes the two of you feel sick.
Joel lays his hands on your forearms, he strokes you gently, then slides his hands behind your back, “I don't wanna you to be confined here. In this small town. You deserve places like Seattle, Los Angeles, New York, or even Europe. You deserve the world. I wish you could see all the wonders there are,” he tells you.
“You are all the wonder I want in my life,” you tell him.
“Oh, baby.” he says holding you in his arms and placing kisses on your cheek and forehead “You're so sweet, so…” he dips his nose into your hair and you close your eyes, you don't care what he wanted to add, the important thing is what you told him. At the moment you like to write, but you don't want to get away from him, you couldn't stand a world where he is not there. For you it would be intolerable.
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel tlou#joel miller hbo#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us hbo#joel miller self insert#the last of us#joel fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal as joel miller#smut#joel x f!reader#joel x female reader#joel x you#dom!joel#dom!joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller angst#bittersweet ff#soft!joel miller
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I can't stop thinking about that one-night-stand stucky fic you wrote where they meet at a bar and bucky is stuffing his fat belly full of food and steve is filling his own fat belly full of alcohol, and i can't stop thinking about them meeting months later and they're just absolutely massive, their guts (and the rest of them) even bigger than the last time they saw each other, and in that time their hobbies have gotten even worse. I imagine that Bucky always needs to be full and heavy and tight and so he carries around snacks and things wherever he goes, and steve always needs to be sloshy and drunk and gravid so he carries around those little aeroplane-sized bottles of alcohol to top him off whenever he feels like he needs a re-up, and i think that if they decided to do more than a one-night-stand the next time they meet and appreciate how badly the two of them have been consumed by their gluttony and their desires, i think they could be so good for each other, bucky always making sure steve has a steady supply of alcohol and beer to make his belly constantly sloshy and his head constantly empty, steve to ensure that bucky has enough food to keep his gut stuffed and full... i don't know, i think you've ruined me, i love it....
One night stand stucky
Oh, yeah, their “hobbies.” I don’t think getting drunk (actually drunk or just food drunk) counts as a hobby but… that’s cute. We can pretend that it counts to indulge them and ourselves. Besides, Lord knows both Bucky and Steve think of their respective bad habit of filling themselves up to the brim as hobbies, hobbies that are so pleasurable and all-consuming that they just can’t stop. Isn’t the point of a hobby for it to be something that you find enjoyable and can spend your leisure time doing? It’s so goddamn hot for both of them, it feels so good to be filled up to the point of heavy, round bellies leaving them beached that they lose track of time. Time flies when you’re having fun. And, oops, exactly like you said, it spirals out into their daily lives. They can’t help themselves! Their hobbies are just so fun, why would they ever want to do anything else?
Stucky belly kink under the read more. Warnings for alcohol consumption/intox kink, stuffing, semi-public sex acts (but in the feedism way), weight gain, mutual gaining, etc.
So, Steve has miniature bottles of booze with him all the time. Every hour of every day, no matter where he is. Those little bottles that he can easily sip from, covert, or sometimes, he just says fuck it and brings flasks or water bottles to have with him as he goes out and about. There’s only so much those little bottles can do when he’s working with the fat keg that is his distended, hard gut. Sips don’t fill him up, he needs chugs and chugs. Steve doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself if he’s not sloshing and so full that he has to burp, desperately trying to relieve some of that straining pressure, otherwise he might pop. If he isn’t sweating and panting from overfullness, he feels lost, more lost than he does when he’s drunk as shit.
Steve waddles around all day thinking of two things: when can he get more booze than just those airplane bottles and when can he get out of his fucking clothes, they’re so tight and rubbing his stretched itchy skin. He just wants to spread out on his couch in front of the huge TV in his apartment, pounding beers, gut bulging into his lap, weighing heavily down on his thighs, and dropping between his thighs. It’s so big these days with its mass keeping him pinned in place unless it’s an emergency (re: unless he runs out of drinks).
More than airplane bottles, flasks, and water bottles, Steve even considers buying one of those wine bra things, he’s already got quite the rack going, the alcohol going somewhere other than his gut (finally), so it wouldn’t make a huge difference right? Actually, he could probably get away with a camelback, right? His gut makes his spine arch so far forward, dragged by the weight pinned onto his front and barely balanced by his growing ass, that it wouldn’t be that noticeable. He could fill one of those up with alcohol and go to town anywhere anytime, wouldn’t that be the fucking dream? Steve’s chunky, heavy body shivers just thinking about it.
Meanwhile, Bucky has snacks - snacks on snacks on snacks. At first, when he starts to himself go, first allowing himself to leave the house during the day so packed that he has pit stains and crescent moons under his flabby tits, exhausted by the effort of dragging his belly everywhere with him, so heavy, he’s shameful enough to just slip a few protein and candy bars in his pockets alongside loose change that he knows he’s just going to end up using for vending machines wherever he can find them, exchanging the cold, hard coins for sugary, fatty goodness that will be gone in too few bites. Quickly, he loses his shame, though. It sheds from him in bits and pieces.
He carries snacks in his pockets but as he outgrows his pants, the room in his pockets is hit by his widening hips and thicker thighs - not to even mention his ass, dear god - so he buys himself a purse. Nothing huge. Just a little bag to have “emergency” snacks to tide him over between meals of impressive size. Then, when his little snack-stuffed purse (bulging and heavy just like Bucky himself) isn’t enough, he reverts to his college years, albeit with the weight of an entire ‘nother person on his frame, carrying a backpack with him everywhere. This time around, there are no books, planners, or even a laptop in his bag. He fills his snack backpack moderately at first, but it doesn’t last because, of course, it doesn’t. If Bucky understood moderation, he would’ve ended up perverting the lean, athletic build that he spent so long procuring in high school and college into an excessive, wide, heavy body that’s so plush it’s hard to believe. Bucky wastes hours fresh out of the shower investigating himself as the weight piles on, poking and prodding and pinching his fat, his rolls thick and sliding together hotly, it’s so hard to believe the whale he’s turned himself into. He’s such a needy, big whale that his backpack gets too heavy when he drags it around throughout the day. He huffs and puffs and sweats worse than before, lugging all his snacks around. He tells himself that he can get relief from the weight by eating his snacks faster, no problem! Every bite makes the load lighter, right? But, really, if he stopped to actually think for once, he would easily realize that it does nothing of the sort. It evens out.
The hours pass and Bucky’s backpack gets lighter as he munches, sure, but his belly just gets heavier and heavier to compensate. All those empty, unneeded calories go somewhere.
Bucky moans to himself and squeezes (exaggeratedly… for now) through his apartment door to come home after a full day of eating. He’s supposedly working and taking a few snack breaks, but… as he’s lost control and shame, it’s more like he’s eating with the occasional work break. As he comes home after his hard day’s labor of stuffing his face, all Bucky can think about is how the weight of his backpack nearly pulled him over this morning when he snagged it on the way out, unprepared to pick it up with how out of shape he’s gotten. It was that heavy and now? It’s all in his gut now. Picturing his soft, empty, flabby belly in the mirror that morning, Bucky considers how it would look if he put his snack-pack on backward with the heavy, filled bag over his belly… God. It would stick out so far. It’d make him look so round. And, considering that his backpack is empty now, that’s how fat he’s gotten over the course of the day.
Fuck.
Steve swells like beer poured into a glass without being tilted, fizzing, foaming, reaching the rim of the glass, and almost overflowing. Steve’s fat is getting softer the more he gets of it, but he’s still so dense and firm. Yet, Bucky rises like proofed bread dough, all rounded with rolls escaping the sides of the pan and flowing over. Bucky’s fat is so exorbitantly soft. He’s squishy, really like bread dough, Bucky often finds himself kneading his plush body - he just can’t get enough.
This time, when the two gaining, ripening men see each other again, they meet at a grocery store, bumping into each other all those months and pounds later with nothing to dull the impact. In the broad light of day, there are no flashing club lights, no writhing bodies (mostly thin and scantily clad, but just as sweaty as the two overpacked fatties still shoving more in their greedy, moaning mouths), and no pounding music to hide behind. There’s nothing but the evidence of their indulgence on complete display.
Steve is swaying through the alcohol section, debating between different kinds of wine - who’s he kidding, though? He’s going to end up with both and he’ll knock them back so fast he probably won’t even taste the difference. He best get both. Both and more. He just, oops, he needs to be careful because he might fall on his ass and then he’ll break the bottles which would just be a fucking waste. No one would get to drink them then! Steve wants to drink them so bad, he wants to drain them both right now into his sloshing, dizzying belly. He could be heavier. He always needs to be heavier. He wants to roll back to the Uber that brought him here and he doesn’t want to be able to be stuffed into his seat. He’s going to swell himself up until he’s not only constantly giggly and dizzy but so he’s so round that a seatbelt extender will be essential, otherwise he’ll never be able to fit into a taxi or Lyft or Uber again. Godddd, he wants more already, he feels like he’s drying up despite all the sloshes and burps he’s stifling. Maybe both and then a few six-packs?
Bucky, however, is plodding through the food aisles, half-pushing, half-leaning on a cart that’s haphazardly stacked with enough food for a family of six. He’s so fucking loud and noisy between his almost ground-shaking footsteps and fast, shallow breaths. He ate before he came. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Never go grocery shopping hungry? He was just trying to follow the rules! But it doesn’t look like it’s worked on account of the crumbs around his mouth and the empty wrappers littering the baby seat of his cart. His gut is churning loudly - he just destroyed a whole box of snack cakes while debating what kind of ice cream he needs, thoughtless and shameless, only concerned with how to fill himself up until it hurts in the best way. Too tight. His belly keeps bumping the handle of the cart, so large that it makes his arms feel short.
As they’re checking out, Steve isn’t looking where he’s going and he walks straight into Bucky. Bucky isn’t looking because he’s staring at the candy bars displayed near the front of the store, trying to drool remember if there’s any at the bottom of his cart or not.
Without their attention, they end up colliding belly to belly, making them both choke and groan, pressing on their sensitive guts sends hot, intense jolts of arousal through them both. It’s like pressing on a bruise - a big, fat bruise that’s been aching constantly for what feels like months. It’s a wonder neither of them come in their pants right then, hitting together like yoga balls and stumbling backwards, almost falling, they’re so on edge after months of unending gluttony. Stretched to their limits. Steve arches his back, reveling with a groan how his whole firm gut sloshes but doesn’t move all that much, he’s solid; Bucky curls around his soft tummy, breathing through the waves of heat with his fat jiggling everywhere, barely shoving a moan down. Neither of them can be out in public like this! This was a terrible idea! Now all they want to do is slump down and pant and digest a little so they might stand a chance at, at…
Who hit him anyway?
Oh.
They both look up at the same time, meeting each other’s dilated eyes and wondering, not even needing to speak out loud, how long they’ll have to wait to digest to be able to move better, just a little less sensitive, enough to touch each other - to squeeze and grope each other. Both of their bodies have ballooned, hugely fat, but they’re still so different. Hard and round; soft with rolls. How different are they these days?
#mylevisdontfitanymore#ask#stucky#steve rogers#bucky barnes#chubby steve#chubby bucky#belly kink#text#stuffing#weight gain#intox kink#alcohol consumption#mutual weight gain
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i can’t remember if did this or not but it popped up in my head so i’m doing it
ikepri as writers
nothing much to say about chevalier he’d be a romance author. it’s not that he can’t write anything else, he’s got the smarts for writing a mystery plot or thrillers or dramas whatever else genres. he’s just drawn to romance the most.
jin’s gotta be a erotica/smut writer but he probably has a pen name lol. very popular author with the ladies he’s pretty much the only male author that seems to nail the erotic stuff and actually knows women’s anatomy. very versatile smut writer and has a wide variety of content, you’re guaranteed to find something you like. he writes stuff with and without plot. his plots are actually pretty decent and original; although he does write cliche and overdone tropes pretty well too.
clavis is a crack fic writer. he writes “fanfiction” of chevalier’s stuff and he just pranks(?) the characters. he makes up oc’s and just memes everyone in the story. he also probably is that type of author to update his readers with the most batshit crazy out of pocket news about his life. “sorry for not updating i got stabbed by my brother so i stabbed him back so sorry if this has mistakes i didn’t have time to edit it i hope you guys enjoy!” he also writes original stuff too but it goes unnoticed and it’s not as popular as his crack fic content.
leon’s the type of writer that writes like three sentences and then goes back to just daydreaming about the story instead of writing it. or he just falls asleep. he’s got some good ideas he just has a hard time sitting down and actually writing it. he probably also falls down rabbit holes or research so he knows strange and random facts about weird topics. when he does post, it goes largely unnoticed but he has a few loyal readers that prefer to be anonymous. leon would probably write a bunch of different genres because he’s just got a lot of different ideas. he definitely draws from his experiences and personal beliefs. his characters are very lovable but if only he updated his work…
yves writes baking recipes and puts his entire life story before recipes. just kidding. kinda. i think he writes romance too because everyone else seems to be writing romance? he reads his brothers’ work, mostly leon’s, licht’s, and chevalier’s work. he was tricked into reading jin’s content and now he refuses to read anything from jin and clavis. ngl tho he has tried to write smut but it won’t ever see the light of day. unless clavis gets his hands on it. anyways yves probably spends too much time planning out his characters. he’s got an organized folder of information for each character. spends way too much time on baby name websites too. also way too much time on pinterest looking for outfit inspo for his characters. so all this time spend on planning and making them, he always gives his characters happy ends and never hurts them.
licht writes angst, but he always gives them a happy end. it’s kinda like his way of coping? writing a happy ending simply because he can because he’s the god of his own world. the sense of control he has of his characters brings comfort. they do experience a lot of traumatic things, but he always resolves everything in the end. his characters have the best development and the writing in those emotional scenes are immaculate.
nokto doesn’t really write. he thinks he’s not good at it but he’s decent. i think he writes angst or maybe tragedy is a better word to use here. but it’s in a forbidden/taboo setting (nothing inappropriate get your mind outta there). he writes situations of his characters wanting something they can’t have (kinda like romeo and juliet). he’s also a casual smut writer which makes the tragedy hurt more.
luke doesn’t writer he’s a reader. he’ll read anything as long as it’s interesting. he thinks jin’s stuff is weird but it’s easy to follow so he reads it. he also reads clavis’ stuff and thinks it’s really good (actually he doesn’t think that he was just bribed with honey to say it was good). he’s dabbled in a little bit of writing stories but it never really went anywhere. he has written children’s stories tho. it’s just sitting in his drafts collecting dust.
#i feel like i wrote this or read this somewhere#i’m sorry if this has been done#genuinely not trying to copy or steal ideas#ikemen prince#ikepri
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#i entered an excerpt of some shit i wrote last year to a literary mag#that was the first time i ever had anything original of mine read by someone other than me in like 20 years lol#i meant to do it as like a gesture to prove to myself that i can like submit something??#and i did submit so it did work i proved it to myself ok move on#obviously i didn’t expect to win of course obviously#tell me why i feel crushed about it lol just found out this evening i didn’t make the finalists obviously i wasn’t expecting it but still#kind of disappointed#which is so cringe tbh i am cringing#someone submitting something for literally the first time expecting to get sone kind of recognition this is cringe beyond belief of me tbh#anyway#im writing a short story now and we’ll see where it goes and whatever but#writing anything original is so fucking hard and no one looks at it anyway#but still wanna do it idk whatever whatever#god#i just had to put this somewhere whatever it’s out ok now back to writing#delete later#idk whatever
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heyy🚬 this isn’t a question, it’s me talking about ab the daddy kink ask <3 lol i did it anonymously bc i was feeling cowardice so i’m sticking to it! tbh idk what Prompted it 😭 i think i’ve been reading more fics w daddy kinks recently & i was like hmm. what does cornflowerblue think of this! bc it doesn’t make, like, frequent appearances in your fics, so i was just wondering how you felt about it! lol i agree it has a time & a place thank u for answering even though it was kinda a silly question <3
heyy bff (why r u smoking here?? this is a smoke free zone) i love answering questions, especially silly ones <3 and i happened to very much enjoy my annual daddy kink check-in lol. also it always makes me giggle when people refer to me as cornflowerblue like that's my government name <3
so, i will say that, in My Youth (trademark), i def was very anti daddy kink because it was just so often used in ways that I did Not vibe with (like the inherent infantilization of one character and also the fact that when they used it w/ Ashton they always made him super dominant and borderline abusive and like :( that is not my man i have never seen that man before in my life). so, like, i think it's a valid question because there's a bit of ~nuance~ to it.
i also tend to not use it in my fics bc 1) while I'm not anti daddy kink, it's def not something that i personally seek out so i don't really have a desire to include it and 2) i know it can be very polarizing and i don't want to potentially make an otherwise very run of the mill fic inaccessible for someone. honestly, i think the only fic I have up right now that really talks about daddy kink is Made in Magnolia?? bc Cal has one. i will say tho, this ask kind of made me want to try my hand at including it in smthn.
i really do, at my core, think that almost any kink (with a few exceptions) can be written well !! and I'm never opposed to trying one out in writing :)
#ive def read a ton of fics with daddy kinks and not been thrown off by them#there's one lashton one i really like actually#why cant i think of the name....#rory the dragon wrote it i believe?? it's somewhere in my bookmarks. yeah i love that fic#i def think there's fics with good daddy kinks but i also think there's fics with really bad ones so#yknow#it's an interesting thing!!#pigeon#anon#i do stand by my belief tho that daddy kink needs to be more subversive tho. i don't like it when 'daddy' is just this.#super dominating and aggressive guy and the sub is all weak and scared#not the vibe#but just as a fun sexy vocab word#it can have merit#thank u for asking this so i could really ruminate on it lol#i feel like i need to write u a daddy kink fic !!
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should I post something I wrote about my ocs that only me and my best friend know about???
#tanuki talks#my oc's#but really#i'm really proud of what i wrote#i wanted to share it somewhere#is this just me asking a rethorical question on a post no one will pay attention to? yes#i might as well go for it but if someone decides they wanna read about#two disaster gays with communication problems and angst#tell me!!!!!#i promise you'll suffer but you'll also get your heart warm#or not#it makes much more sense in context but i really don't feel like posting the full thing here#maybe one day i'll go to ao3#probably not#but i can dream#and ramble in the tags my god#ok i'm done
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skimming through all of the dead text at the end of an old fic is so strange but weirdly satisfying and i could not even begin to explain why
#so like fun fact#all of the sort of half-sentences and not-quite-fully-formed ideas that i've had over the course of writing a fic don't actually get deleted#generally they just get relegated to the bottom of the document until either a) i've reached the point where i want to slot them back in#b) i've reworked the wording or whatever to make it fit better into the rest of the fic#or c) the fic has ended and i've decided i don't want to use them any more#so going back and reading them is kind of bizarre bc all of a sudden i am flung right back into the headspace of that fic and what it#felt like to write it#remembering 'oh yeah i was going to say that wasn't i'#and 'ooh that was a good phrase i should use that somewhere else'#and ' woah this would have been so different if they had done this instead of that'#its that sort of re-reading a diary feeling#the bottom of a fic document is a weird sort of liminal space for me it's fab#i'm back in the 'resist and elongate' document today to do some work on an alternate version#and included in that dead text is a list of the songs i was listening to as i wrote it#so i'm REALLY back in that space and it's great :DDD#the songs are a deeply bizarre mixture but its the vibe to ME#radiohead karma police is still the song of all time#i can drop the list if u like but it might be exposing my slightly hatstand music taste lmao
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feeling the kind of neurotic that only comes from being cooped up inside during winter this long. should i make it worse by reading bataille
#i could start the year repeating so many mistakes#i need to go somewhere but it is 10 degrees outside#had brunch plans but my friend cancelled cuz of all the ice#i am going to start screaming soon#it's the deadly combination of like read bataille listen to ethel cain stay indoors write fic that makes me feel unwell and so on#my friend wrote me 5 messages yday giving me professional career advice but i don't think. she understands where i'm at mentally rn#you know what my mom should have left theory of religion at home
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So they didn't become void, they were "born" that way
In FaaF there are different species and kinds of higher beings (still a MASSIVE work in progress tbh, trying to figure out how these cunts work, but for now I'm thinking they're extremely rare species with far greater abilities and lifespans than a normal bug's that have a chance to ascend to true godhood (but even if they don't ascend that doesn't stop mortals from worshipping them as they're already very god-like from a normal bug's perspective)), "pale beings" being one of these kinds/mutations.
Well, there was also a different kind once, "void beings", but they all went extinct a very long time ago by the beginning of the story. Shade Lord was one, and last, of them and it lost its life in a fight with Radiance - the same fight that drove her to make her permanent residence in the dream realm out of her new-found fear of death (which backfired spectacularly ngl). Its body was buried in the Abyss, where it broke apart and decayed, or decayed as much as a non-living thing can, before it was unearthed many ages later by the pale wyrm.
Not much is known about them since they've been gone for so long, and the vessels are the only void beings remaining, but since they're not "pure" void beings it'd be foolish of anyone to assume that the ancient extinct species behaved the same way as these ones do. But they were generally greatly feared thanks to the void's freaky, dangerous properties, which partly lead to their extinction as some of the other higher beings purposefully attacked and killed them whenever they stumbled across one out of fear. Now the only thing remaining of them are the rare void sources, where their former bodies still refuse to fully die.
Shade Lord does get accidentally resurrected in the story bc of all the tomfoolery happening with its body before almost immediately getting killed again by Ghost who inherits its title and reign. Don't ask me how that works, haven't figured that out yet. Magic god shit or something idk LMAO
#thylacines can talk#faaf au#I read somewhere once that if we close mammoths they wouldn't be true mammoths but more like a mammoth elephant hybrid? Idk how accurate#that is but that's essentially what the vessels are. A hybrid species that behaves and looks a lot like the extinct one yet the differences#are significial enough that they're technically not the same thing. And since nobody knows how void beings were like its anyone's guess#which of their traits originated from Shade Lord. You know they could have probably asked it if it didn't want to violently take over#and kill all other gods in rage filled revenge. And then tried to kill its so called children when they didn't want to participate in that.#PK 🤝 SL 🤝 WL parent of the year award#The vessels can't have even ONE good parent sorry#Well SL is less of a parent and more of a...DNA donor? Its kidneys got stolen and turned into babies#Currently in FaaF Norel and PK we're the only ones who studied void so a lot of its properties and origins are a huge mystery. And PK#slowly stopped after the vessel plan began. After Flower/Pure Vessel was taken into the palace the extent of his studies revolved around#them and their health. He only created new moulds when the old ones got destroyed. Guilt played a big part in his reasons for that.#Norel would know a bit more simply because PK's source sample was limited while Norel travelled across wasteland looking for void and#experimented with different sources. And he was considerably more...unethical about them. So he probably knows what void does to a mortal's#body while PK doesn't know much about that bc he was careful to not give any of his citizens and staff void poisoning after he realised it#was dangerous. Also thinking about Norel once having a mole in the White Palace which is how he found out about Floeer and the origins of#vessels. And maybe said mole broke into PK's workshop and wrote down some things before leaving Hallownest 👀 Bc it does feel a little#weird for Norel to know more than PK just like that. And he's a little snake who WOULD steal other people's work.#Like I mentioned previously Norel makes his own constructs which is something I wanted dabble in. Maybe he stole that idea from PK? His#ones are far worse and fewer than PK's but they serve their purpose and he's just starting dabbling in that. By the time he shows his ugly#mug again to terrorise Flower's kids and grandkid he'd probably be MUCH better at that 👀#I love my fucked up little moth#My one true talent is getting wildly off topic whenever sh asks me about my as#Aus*
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Kitty cats!! Here we have Otterheart taking some apprentices out (note that this is NOT proportionate. Otterheart is like a full head shorter but I didn’t wanna redraw her.) and on the bottom Owlstar and Mintstar are having a chat. + Cootstone. U can guess who is who
#Back on my way-too-long captions grind amen !#Also I love love love love love my warrior cats kitties so much#I have not read warrior cats in years and I couldn’t make it through the second arc b4 my computer broke but I DONT CARE !!#warrior cats changed me forever look at how good I am at drawing cats#Don’t mind that I fucked up like all of their eye shapes my hands were uncooperative during the lining process#Anywho I won’t make u guess. I’ll tell u which cats are which#from left to right the cats on the too are: Sootpaw. Commapaw. And Otterheart#on the bottom from left to right the cats are: Owlstar. Mintstar. Cootstone#there are a bunch of older cats in my fanclans ermm basically everyone who’s not a teenager here should be an elder at their age…#Minstar’s falling apart at the seams (gonna die soon there’s a scheme about it) and Cootstone’s getting up there#Owlstar’s like 15.. 12…. Idk i wrote it down somewhere I don’t feel like looking#Commapaw is also Owlstar’s kit. Can you see the resemblance ?!#ok now 4 regular tagz#wc oc#warrior cats oc#Petal and Thorn#traditional art#I popped off w this one so hard
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Chapters: 1/?
Relationships: Hagane Kotetsu/Kamizuki Izumo
Summary:
At age 25, Kotetsu throws out a question: "Where would I be without you?" Casual, distracted, a rethorical question. However, it leads Izumo into a deep thinking to imagine really where Kotetsu would be without him.
Because it's an interesting question, when asked by Kotetsu. Because while most people could track meeting their best friend in school, at the candy shop, in the park, or somewhere uninteresting where they could have met anyone else and where their lives wouldn't change a whole lot if they had never met, Kotetsu was the only one who could say that if he hadn't met Izumo, he would probably, quite literally, be dead, gone rogue, or still be missing since age three, living alone in the woods, barely verbal, and more an animal than a person.
The story of how Kotetsu at age 7 had been missing and isolated from civilization for so long, he refused to let anyone near him; except the one kid who, after a bad first meeting, started giving him what no one else had offered him before, and what would, in their adult years, transform into something even greater: genuine care, patience, and love.
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*slaps the roof of this fic*
I started a new baby.
#koteizu#kotetsu hagane/izumo kamizuki#kotetsu x izumo#those two guys from naruto#i was meaning to first reblog some nice art but i haven't had the time#i'm not hyperfixated I said as I wrote 45k of fanfic on just how they met#also question: why do we all imagine izumo had awful parents. There's no fic I've read where they're not dead or are just AWFUL.#like not just absent i mean they are MEAN#spoiler much lmao#i mean it's subplot#anyway i hope you enjoy it. If you do let me know even if it's through an anon message! Those are really sweet#I was meaning to write everything only to get this out of my head. I'm scared that posting while I write will kill my motivation#it gets pretty sad when you post something excited for feedback and you get none lmao So I thought --->#I won't get sad from no feedback if I don't even post it! So my plan was I finish writing and post it and then no feedback was no problem#but ic ouldn't help it I got too excited AHHAA#I mean I'm still going to finish the whole thing I only have like 5k to go#I just wanted to avoid the sensation of pointless writing when you get no feedback WHILE writing it#so I got the thrill of writing it all already! Now if there are any readers that will be a wonderful extra#it's always nice to find out there are kotetsu and izumo fans somewhere <3#i feel i'm missing a tag#i talk a lot in the tags for someone with 2 readers and 4 followers#it makes me happy. Sue me. Don't actually sue me it's a saying#if you want to know more of what is coming relatively spoiler free you shoot that question in my inbox mail thing ask a thing thing#why do i always need like 4 hours of gathering courage before posting anything mine
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fallen prey to saying stupid shit on the internet without thinking and coming off as incredibly rude and insensitive. i feel sick to my stomach. never commenting on anything else ever again. deserve to be squashed under someone’s shoe and ground into powder. in all seriousness this has shocked me so much that i am quitting every platform but tumblr for however long it takes for me to get some sense knocked into my dumb fucking skull
#actually considering deleting the clock app rn#what i said was so so bad and it could’ve been avoided if i’d fucking READ WHAT I WROTE and thought abt it FOR ONE GODDAMN MINUTE#i genuinely feel like i’m going to throw up being seen (fairly. justifiably) as mean is like the worst thing#and i don’t deserve to be wining abt this bc i’m the one who hurt someone but good god#PLEASE make sure that when you say something online you would SAY IT TO THEIR FACE#ive gotten to used to this brusque rude dark humor on the internet that i don’t relaizw using that humor INDISCRIMINATELY WITH STRANGERS is#Not okay#they made a video on it but the video got taken down so i deleted the comment. which might have been more selfish. i don’t know what’s best#-to do in that situation? i’m going to change my fucking username and pfp atp and go off the app entirely because i’m so fucking adhd ames#**ashamed don’t know why is autocorrected to that#ok just deleted the app ‘and all of its data’ so idk if that means my videos (edits) too but atp whatever#maybe it’s impulsive but at least this way i will not know what’s going on ! and never hurt anyone again hopefully. i really hope he saw my#-comments before his response was deleted because i want them to know it was not intentional and i am truly so so sorry#i don’t know how i’m going to function for the rest of the day. i’m going to think about this when i go to sleep for the rest of my life#i feel sick#i’m evil#and being evil isn’t fun silly times it literally makes me want to throw up from how bad i am#too much ranting in the tags and i deserve to be fucking shot in the mouth#but i need somewhere to put this that no one will see this but that is also public so that someone might see and know how sorry i am#feel like fucking bojack horseman#unironically how am i supposed to go on living. how can i live knowing i’m so bad. if i don’t kill myself im being selfish because i’m mak-#-omg everyone deal with my presence and live with a bad person.#i think i’m going too social media entirely except for tumblr maybe bc i can’t or don’t rly talk to anyone on here#i need someone to like give me a good meaning but not in a cathartic way in a way that it genuinely hurts so bad and makes me feel the full#suffering i deserve
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