#just sad bc drawing has hurt these last few weeks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withoneheadlight · 3 years

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I’m s o r r y but I made myself sad over this one so naturally I’m here to share the pain

Okay so I was thinking about the alternate timelines//realities thing and what if there’s a universe where Billy dies, and a universe where Steve dies,, and somehow they meet ~maybe in the Upside Down???~ and Steve is like 🥺 b i l l y,,, but Billy can’t deal with it??? Like, “you’re A Steve, but you’re not MY Steve”

| quick heads up!: mentions of death and mourning ahead |

Ahhhhhh, Kelly!. Bring the pain, bring the pain, we’ll deal with it together, cry together, blow our noses together! 😢😢

i’ve been having my mind full of that alt timelines/realities idea these last few days, and that’s surely the reason why that’s what I saw in your beautiful 3-sentence fic, both because a post i saw about one of the boys dying (i can’t find it now. please human who posted it, tell me if it was yours!) and bc of this marvel @edith-moonshadow (<3) wrote in one of my posts. and then you sent me this ask and wrote that fantastic piece and-- IT'S ALL BEEN VERY COSMIC AND PLANETARY ALINGTMENLY and i didn’t want to make myself sadder or make you sadder but,

I can imagine how it’d go. Both of them trapped on the upside-down. Both of them bleeding out. Sliced down as they are, right through the middle. Half a Billy and half a Steve, the wound still fresh with the part they’re missing and I imagine they could barely stand it, right at the beginning, the mere sight of that other that’s not― That’ just not. What was once love rotting into hate, into feeling trapped, doomed, to live in this cage with the constant reminder of their loss.

And Billy’d miss the way Steve used to roll his eyes at him, and the way Steve used to sigh all dramatic like ‘God, Billy Hargrove, you’re too much for me I swear’ but would then wink and pull him close and steal a kiss, voice falling low to smile a ‘Definitely way more than I deserve’ into his mouth. Would miss the way Steve used to brush his hair to the side, bite at the curve of his neck, and words, they always sounded better when Steve traced them against the shell of his ear ‘Tell me I’m your pretty boy’ he’d say and Billy would tell him, would try to catch his lips but ‘Ah-ah’ and Steve’d shake his head, brush their lips together ‘First babe, you gotta tell me how much I love you’, holding him tight and not letting him go ‘till Billy would get over the way his cheeks were blushing, and tell him. But―

This Steve. This Steve doesn’t love this Billy. Doesn’t love Billy. This Steve gets mad and yells at him when Billy’s been ‘Too fucking much, I swear! You’re too fucking much’ and it hurts, when he puts his hands on his hips and looks exactly like his Steve. And it hurts even worse, when he sets his jaw and looks wrong and like somebody else completely (And it hurts even worseworseworse, when he finally says it, what they both think. When he opens up those pretty lips Billy used to kiss, to love, those pretty lips that used to say ‘I love you’: “Of all the monsters in here, you’re the only one that gives me nightmares”).

This Steve never calls him by his name. This Steve doesn’t look him in the eye. This Steve hates him.

And weeks pass, and months pass, and they repel each other, can't stand each other but ―they can’t, either, even if none of them ever says it, bear the idea of splitting apart. And Steve’s house is not Steve’s house, but it makes do, with its walls re-painted in horrors and damp seeping through the floral wallpaper of the hallway his mama used to be so proud of. And there’s mold growing in the mattress and invisible night-terrors that bite living in the blankets and it gets cold at night. Cold and lonely and hopeless. And Steve doesn't want to and Billy doesn't want to but. They sleep together. Back to back. Touch only where they have to touch. Not to freeze (not to feel. Except they― ). Wake up together (like they used to). Steve's face buried in Billy's curls and the smell, the smell is the same. Exactly, perfectly, dishearteningly. The same. Right there, all along the tenderness at the curve of Billy’s (this. Not his. Thisthisthis. Never his) neck.

And weeks pass, and months pass, and it hurts. Every minute, every second and every tiny, tiny particle of time. Because this Billy is not Billy and Steve―

Steve’s missing a half. Steve’s an open wound and it doesn't matter how much alike they are, how much they feel (exactly, perfectly, dishearteningly) the same under Steve’s touch, because this Billy is another Steve's and he doesn't fit, and he wouldn’t ever heal, against his skin but― his blue eyes are the same and those curls of his look like they’ve forever captured the sun in the same way and his scars are gone but when the creatures hurt him and draw new ones Steve recognizes under his fingertips the familiar shapes of his back, the way Billy bleeds, the way his skin feels warmth against his palms and,

Billy.

Billy recognizes the way Steve touches him, the way he groans a "Be quiet for frikin’ once. And hold still!" but then, lower, softer, a whisper “Shhh. C’mon. Shhh. Just a second, alright? I promise I’ll be careful” and Billy does and bites down his tongue and the pain and the tears as Steve stitches the wound and Billy wants to ask him to sew his whole body, too, all along that wide wide line where it used to fit that half he’s missing, but what he says is "Would you kiss me once? Just once? So I can feel like I still have him?".

And it's the same. And it's different. And it's not Steve. But it is. Steve. And they kiss and Steve’s crying, because is thesamethesamethesame, the way Billy’s lashes are falling and Billy wants to say ‘I love you’, but he doesn't, and it becomes a lump in his throat as they kiss and kiss and kiss for hours, on that bed they’ve been sharing, that bed they’ve only been touching for survival, and when they're done, Billy wants to ask Steve to sew his lips together too. So he can’t ask him again. So he can not want to but― the nights are cold and lonely and hopeless. So they touch. And they kiss. And weeks pass. And they touch and they kiss and they fuck. And months pass. And they kiss and touch and fuck and fight. And they need each other. Want each other. Hate each other. Hate themselves. And then Steve says "I'll never love you. I'll never love you like I loved him" and Billy says "Neither I will”. And they’re both are bleeding. Been bleeding for so long. Bleeding out. And they won’t heal, a Billy-less and a Steve-less, as they are. So it spreads. The rot. And it's even worse like this, hating what there’s left of themselves. Because they don’t fit but it feels like they do, when they touch and they kiss and they fuck. When they fight.

(When it feels like love but― isn’t).

(Can’t be)

And weeks pass and months pass and neither of them says it (‘Wanna touch you again, kiss you again, fuck you again’), even though they're both thinking it and it’s been almost two and a half years. Five hundred days. Five hundred nights. Of hiding from each other, of finding each other in this endless night, when the dormant creatures start to crawl out of their nests, when the darkness is filled again with growls and howls and screeches. With danger. Vines coming back to life after their hundred years of sleep and then something’s coming something’s coming something’s coming and,

“Take all you can”

“Get the bat!”

“Run, Billy run!”

“Block the door! Block the door!”

“The head! Steve! Slam ‘m on the head!”

“Come on, come on, come on! Let’s get the shit outta here”

and then,

“The gate. Somebody must be opening the gate”

They find it.

Seven feet. That’s how far it is. That's how close they are from making it. And must be some kind of cosmic joke, so Billy laughs at it. Gives that one to the universe. Chokes on his own blood.

Steve’s blurred, less and less clear every time he blinks. Still the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever seen.

“C’mon, pretty boy” he says. Squeezes Steve's hand tighter. Just one second. It’s the end of the end of the world and Billy feels like he’s spent a whole lifetime like this. Stealing Steve Harrington in seconds. So he can steal one more. That’s always been the deal. Just a little more, a little more, since the moment he saw him “You know you hafta go”

Salt. Tears. That detail, Billy always forgets: they taste exactly like the ocean.

“Nah. I’m thinking that― they won't split us apart. Not this time”

Tears. Salt. The ocean on Steve’s lips. Taste like coming back. Coming Back home. But,

“It’s ok, pretty boy. I’m not him”

Steve shrugs. Smiles. Dots on the curve of his cheek. Eyes like the first day of fall. It’s in the curve of his lips, where Billy’s history has always been rewritten.

“But there was a me, that loved you. And there was a you, that loved me. And I guess it’s just impossible. Not to do it again so―” and words, they always sound better when Steve traces them against the shell of his ear, says,

“Can you kiss me? So I can know how it is to have you?”

And it’s the end of the end of the world.

(But,

Time Swirls. Space wraps around itself. Reality flickers. So maybe― maybe it really is. The end. But. Maybe,

There's a house. Steve’s house. And is not the same. But it’s not different, either. And there’s daylight pouring down the hallways, burning bright against that soft-gold wallpaper his mama’s always been so proud of. And the mattress is soft and warm and feels familiar. And the blankets smell like softener and old memories. Like new memories. Like us. Us.

“Tell me how much you love me”

Steve brushes Billy’s hair to the side, runs his lips all along the curve of his neck, leaves a kiss behind his ear. And it’s the same, but it’s different and Billy know it’s always, always gonna hurt. Because they’re still a Billy-less and a Steve-less but. They’re always gonna be a Billy one Steve loved, a Steve one Billy loved. They’re this Billy and this Steve.

But there’s this one thing, that’s always gonna be the same. This one thing neither of them would ever do in halves.

“I love you with all my heart,” he says, and draws Steve closer, closer, ‘till there’s barely any space left between them.

And they allow themselves to feel, where their wounds touch.

Allow themselves to love.)

#harringrove #i'm sorry #for the terribleness of this #but thank you so So much for making me feel inspired #and for being SUCH a dear <3<3<3 #i wrote this and still can't shake the all other possible ideas out of my head #the sadder and happier possibilities #ahhh #ill stop or ill just ramble essssndlessly #<3<3<3<33<#also!#@lovebillyhargorve my lof #this is a 'this billy with this steve' sorta thing?#look at what you've made to me <3<3<#edith. u there? as always. thanks for adding magic to my brain #tw: death #tw: mourning #also yep its not a trick of your mind i keep on paraphrasing my favorite oscar wild line #xharringrove

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a-libra-writes · 3 years

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hello, i am here! Stannis with the prompt: a diary where you can communicate with your soulmate, please. it can be hc's or scenario; however you choose to quench my thirst for him, I will be grateful.

hi molly, thank u for giving me such a treat!!! bc this was my first prompt and it... uh ....................

really got away from me

(LOTS OF ANGST BUT ITLL BE OK I PROMISE MAYBE)

The first thing he felt about it was annoyance. The six year old second son of Lord Baratheon looked down and saw that someone had doodled all over his book. He figured it was Robert, though he'd never seen a quill in his brother's hand unless it was being forced by the maester. He set the leather bound book in front of his mother expectantly, silently waiting for an explanation. When she looked at it and gave him a curious glance, he finally spoke.

"Robert's been drawing in it," Stannis said. He placed it right on top of her embroidery so she'd see. Lady Cassana wasn't bothered, rather, she was curious. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages.

"Did you see him do it, sweetling?"

"No." The lack of evidence didn't deter him - no, this was evidence enough. He didn't understand what his mother was so amused about.

Lady Cassana stopped on one of the pages. She smiled at the messy drawing of what was probably a cat catching a mouse. Under that was a tidy little castle with a series of smiling figures. "I don't think it's your brother, Stannis."

Stannis frowned, ready to argue that fact, but she asked, "Do you know what a soulmate is, sweetling?"

“No.”

“It’s a special person that only you can speak with this way,” She touched the book. “It's a special thing, I did it when I was your age. It’s the will of the gods, my love. You should write something back."

He hesitated. “Do I… have to?”

“Not if you don’t want to. But perhaps say hello, give it a try.” Lady Cassana said. She was smiling broadly now. “Enjoy it while you can.”

"What if they're not literate?"

Maester Cressen looked up from his papers, surprised the usually quiet boy was speaking during lessons. Stannis repeated, “What if my… soul mate doesn’t know their letters? You said the smallfolk don't."

The Maester stood and walked over to the leather book. Two years later, and it still looked in good condition. Stannis took care of this things, especially this. As usual the page was covered in whimsical drawings.

“Have you tried to write to them, my lord?”

“Not yet.” Stannis was furrowing his brow already, wanting his questions answered. “What happens if one soul mate can’t write, but the other can? What if both can't?"

“My lord, there's no need to worry about things that are irrelevant to you.”

“What do the smallfolk do?” Stannis pressed on. “Draw pictures like this? How do they find each other? How do they know what the other person looks like?"

Maester Cressen was already turning back to his papers. “Soulmates don’t always find each other, my lord, nor should they expect to.”

“Why not?”

“Distance, lack of communication, familial duties.” The maester said dismissively. “If you’ll return to your lessons—”

“I finished. What’s the point of soulmates if they can never meet?"

Maester Cressen sighed. There was no escaping this anytime soon, he feared. “It’s the will of the gods, my lord, and a great mystery we maesters have studied for centuries. It’s best not to think much of it, however. Draw or write back in the book, if you wish, but do not spend too much time with it. It’s best not to get expectations of someone you will likely never meet.”

Stannis looked down at the book, startled by a new drawing already appearing. He couldn’t see them being made, only when they were finished. It was a school of fish, or maybe a flock of birds. Wouldn’t it be simple to ask where this person lived, and go see them? What was the point of all this if he was just meant to ignore it? He wanted to ignore it, but this mysterious person kept drawing all over his notes and it was distracting.

“Mother said it’s 'the will of the gods', too. Does that mean it’s bad to ignore it?”

The maester stood up and closed the leather book. He replaced it with a chart of various colorful coat of arms and a map. “I daresay it’s time to move on to the next lesson."

It took him a few days, but the lordling decided to write in the book. Stannis wasn't much of an artist, so Hello seemed like a good start. He was relieved when there was a simple ‘hello!’ written back within a few minutes, and later, a scribbly flower with a long stalk underneath. Seeing the words form on their own so quickly, and in response to him, unnerved Stannis. He closed the book and tried not to think about it the rest of the day.

He checked a week later, where more drawings were present, with more words: whats your nam?

He wrote back, Name has an 'e'.

And before his eyes, a minute later, there was a name… and a house, and a title. Caspian.

She was a highborn lady? Stannis looked at the page, not sure what to think about it. It’d be alright to write to a lady, wouldn’t it? Maester Cressen was the one worried about this soulmate business. Perhaps it was because a lord and peasant couldn’t be together? Stannis knew that rule already. He knew the decorum and niceties his parents rehearsed him through, even at his young age. He walked to the library to find a map, and in the time he finally located it and rolled it out, there was more on the page.

A drawing of something weird and arrow-shaped. this is our sigil. its a manta ray.

Stannis had never seen one, but he had a sense that wasn’t what they looked like. He tried looking through the map, but words kept appearing.

whats your nam where are you from? ?? are you a boy or girl do you like horses ? I like swiming and horses! im good at it

He considered closing the book again, rolling up the map, going back to whatever he was doing before. If there was no point, then why bother with this? ... Then again, he’d have to go back to the training yard, and Robert was there swinging around a huge wooden sword.

Stannis frowned, deciding this was the less annoying (and painful) activity for now. He found an ink pot and quill, held it tightly and wrote in a fine penmanship—

My name is Stannis Baratheon.

The last part smudged, and it didn’t look exactly how his father signed it, but it was his best. The response wasn’t immediate, and he quickly saw why. A drawing of a stag appeared on the paper before the words did.

Its good to meat you! lets be friends

Friends? Friends. He thought about it. Stannis didn’t have friends, just brothers. He didn’t think he needed any. This didn’t have to be so bad, though, he could try. If it was too tiresome, or too... strange, he could stop. Maester Cressen wanted him to stop, anyhow, and his mother said he didn't have to.

It’s spelled ‘meet’. We can be friends.

Lady Cassana patted his mess of black hair, and Stannis didn’t flinch away this time. Instead, he asked, “Were you and father soulmates?”

“No,” She answered honestly. She was always honest, and he liked that. His father joked too much. “Do you remember what I told you about duty? Sometimes we have to set aside our hearts to best serve our realm. Sometimes we have to set aside this.”

She gave the leather book back to him. Maester Cressen had taken it, and he was determined to accept the punishment, but it bothered him more than he wanted to say. He was grateful his mother returned it, though he was struggling to meet her eyes. His ears were still red from embarrassment, but she wasn’t upset, or teasing, or scolding.

“It hurt me to set my own down, but I knew it wasn’t meant to be. Your father had one that he never wrote to. The idea of having it and setting it aside was too much for him. And yet, we love each other very much, and we love our sons.” Lady Cassana stopped touching his hair when he finally squirmed away. Stannis ran his fingers along the leather spine and the uneven parchment bound inside the book.

When he took a long time to answer, she spoke softly. “It’s your decision, Stannis.”

That night, he wrote in the book, asking what she’d do when they grew up. When she'd stop writing. The response was instant. There was a drawing of a sad girl next to her words.

your my friend! i like writing to you. do you want to stop?

I don’t. Stannis decided, and that was it.

The talks still came, though. It happened before, several times, and here it was again. It didn’t matter that he stopped bringing the book to his lessons, or that he only wrote in the privacy of his room. Maester Cressen always seemed to know.

“It’s for your own good that you begin to set it aside, Stannis,” The old man said. He always seemed old, but when he was scolding it was especially so.

Stannis wasn’t one to talk back, but he still struggled to hide his scowl. This wasn’t the first time the maester made him set his jaw and tense it up. It wasn’t his business. She never discouraged it, so he didn’t understand why Maester Cressen had to.

“It’s not inappropriate,” He said. “She’s a lady. I never write improperly, it's like sending letters."

“Sending a strange lady letters is inappropriate,” The Maester sighed. “Especially without the knowledge of her family. What would they say?"

“She could tell them at anytime."

“Do you tell your lord father and lady mother all that you write, then?”

Stannis gritted his teeth and turned away. At ten and three, Stannis could already see over the old man’s head, and he didn't feel like a child, so he didn't appreciate being talked to like one. “You don’t speak to Robert about these matters.”

“Robert is at the Eyrie, no doubt being told the same by Lord Arryn. Stannis, do you understand why I say these things? Do you understand the trouble it could cause you, and worse, her?”

Maester Cressen often referred to ‘her’, or the girl, even if she was just as grown as Stannis. He didn't ask her identity, and Stannis didn't give it. He hated having to hear this conversation again. Of all the trouble Robert was already causing in the Eyrie — he saw those letters, it was his duty to attend to them while his parents were at sea — Stannis felt like his own actions were hardly important. There would be weeks where he couldn’t write to her at all, or she was busy as well. If anyone tried to read what they wrote, gods forbid, it was mostly idle talk and drawings.

Lots and lots of drawings, she still had that habit. She was getting very good at them. Stannis brought his mind back to the present. “I understand.” He said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t actually intend to stop.

Case in point, he pulled out the worn leather book that evening. It was the second, or maybe the third one. If she didn’t draw so much they’d have more room, but sometimes Stannis wrote a lot, too. She made it easy to do that. It was alright if she didn’t answer right away, or if at all. It was good to just write it.

He frowned as he moved to the most recent page. It was a short, curt sentences, which wasn’t like her. There were no pictures.

My cousin died this morning. We were riding together, and she fell from her horse. I couldn’t help her. No one blames me, but I feel terrible. I’ve been crying all day. I’m going to the Godswood tonight to pray for forgiveness. I might be quiet. I'm sorry.

‘I might be quiet’. ‘I might not write tonight.’ ‘I’ll write to you tomorrow’. ‘I’ll tell you about it when I can’. Those were phrases the two of them were used to. It was expectant. They may not write every day, or every week, but eventually they will.

Take the time you need. I’ll be here for you.

It made his chest hurt to write that, but he knew it was the right thing. It’s what she would always say to him, and without fail, he’d eventually come around and tell her. She was the only one he really told… anything. He wondered if the same was true for her. She mentioned visiting ladies now and again, a knight’s daughter she played with, and… this cousin.

He kept the book beside him the rest of the evening, knowing she likely wouldn’t respond. By the time she did, the earlier conversation with the maester had left his mind.

The longest they’d gone without writing was during the following year. It took months before he could pick the book up again, even look at it. It was months using all the willpower he had to get out of bed and carry on. There was Renly to look after, and Storm’s End to attend to, and the duties that Robert neglected when he returned to the Eyrie. He should have stayed, but he didn’t. So Stannis took care of it. He did what was right.

When he was finally able to pick up the book, when the choking pain keeping him up at night had dulled to just a constant ache that allowed sleep now and again, he hesitated.

The latest page was inquiries of how he was, where he was. There was a variety of pictures, black and some colors she’d managed to get ahold of. Her manta rays looked like proper rays, and so did the stags she had become so fond of. She drew some ships she’d seen in the harbor, a cat that liked to hide away in her bedroom. Then the pictures stopped.

My father told me what happened. Stannis, I’m here. You can write to me, whenever you can. I’ll always be here.

It hurt again. He closed the book, listened to the fire flickering loudly in the hearth in his room. It was becoming stuffy, but he didn’t want to open a window. He could hear the waves and the crashes against the rock from his window, and that would lead to the sounds of broken wood and screams in his sleep.

He moved closer to the fire, away from those sounds. Flipping through the old book’s pages, looking at the art and some of the sillier things she wrote. Apparently when he’d make her laugh, she’d screw up some letters. She told him as much. When he corrected any spelling, she liked to make the same mistake and circle it. She liked to draw little figures that were supposed to be them, but it was awful on purpose, and they were usually doing something ridiculous like riding a dragon.

Looking back on those gave him the strength to flip to the newest page. He stared at it, wondering if he should stop. He was acting Lord of Storm’s End. Wasn’t his duty even more important than this, and wasn’t her reputation in danger? ‘Willed by the gods’, they said, but he no longer believed in those. What gods would smash his parents and their great ship against the rocks of their own castle? The same stupid gods that would create this... this connection in a world where it would inevitably be severed.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the pain shoot up across his jaw and straight to his head, where a headache would start. The fire was right there. It would be easy to …

His hands moved on their own. The words were sloppy and left heavy ink blotches on the paper. I’m here.

I am too. I missed you.

The response was near instantaneous. Perhaps if she waited, he could’ve done it. He could’ve burned it, if she hadn’t wrote that. Maybe it didn’t matter what she’d say. The sudden longing and loneliness hit him all at once, but it was easy to respond.

I won’t do it again. Being gone for this long.

A pause, a heartbeat, and a tensing of his jaw that made his head ache again. He added in an anxious scrawl, I missed you too.

It was another sleepless night, but for once, it wasn’t because of the nightmares and the crashing waves. The sun came up as he wrote in the margins of the last page, promising to find a new book.

There was modest wooden box he kept them in, hidden under his bed. He was good at hiding it now. No one had bothered mentioning Stannis’ old habit anymore, assuming he’d grown out of it. He’d dated all of them to the best of his knowledge, though he rarely went back to read them. He used to, but that simple act flustered him horribly. They were still in good condition, except for one that had been partially chewed by a hunting hound. The one time he was careless.

The hound was no longer around, and he regretted that. He liked dogs. He liked that one, upset as he was when she chewed the diary years ago. She was still a good, loyal dog. He had to butcher her with the rest.

Stannis tried to remember when they ate the dogs. Thinking was a slow, laborious process now. He had to sit down to do it, and getting up was even worse. He stayed standing as long as possible, afraid of what would happen if he stopped. He couldn’t stop, not while his men needed him, and Renly, and Robert.

He moved slowly. It was hard to tell if it was to conserve energy or if he simply had no energy left. Stannis carefully unwrapped the small leather strap that kept the diary bound and closed. His shaking hands struggled to grasp the paper and turn the pages, but he managed. It was the writing that was the hardest. At least there was plenty of paper and ink, only because no one could eat it.

When he looked at the page again, the lighting was different. The candle was lower than before. He’d dropped his quill on the floor — no, he was on the floor, leaning against the cool stone. Stannis didn’t remember falling. He wasn’t sure if he passed out, or fell asleep. Again he turned to the proper page and picked up the quill. He tried to write before he remembered he needed ink. The ink dragged across the page as he wrote languidly, Are you there

The question mark was more of an ugly splotch that spread across the paper.

Yes, always.

Her family supported the rebellion, being sworn to Eddard Stark, and outraged at what the Mad King had done to his father and brother. Stannis told himself it made writing easier, not that he’d ever give her any information that could endanger her. Early on, they didn’t speak of it. Especially now, he couldn’t. He couldn’t…

He couldn’t… think. Stannis struggled for words. He mentioned what day it was, how many men he had left. A log that helped keep him grounded, something he hated to subject her to, but he needed the clarity. Sometimes she corrected him on the day, and that startled him. As he finished his short report, his hand trembled, and he dropped the quill again. Stannis exhaled, forcing the air through his lungs, then struggled to breath in again.

Not for the first time, he wondered if this was dying.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he looked at the page again. She wrote a lot, and he couldn’t remember when it was there.

When you make it through this disgusting siege — and you will make it, Stannis — I’ll be there. I swear it, I’ll sail down to Storm’s End with my family’s ships. I don’t care anymore. I want to be there.

She’d said as much before, when this started. Stannis discouraged her. He didn’t have the strength for that anymore. Instead, he fought to keep his eyes open, fought to think about it, difficult as thinking was. Thinking of their meeting used to be a surefire way of a day full of anxious thoughts, but now it was… grounding. He couldn’t see the end of the rebellion, or the end of this siege. He just had to endure it. That’s what Robert said: Endure it, brother. Hold it for me.

But he could see her, in his thoughts. He could try. Some years ago, she asked what he looked like, and he responded as such: Blue eyes, black hair, like his father and brothers. Asking the same of her felt… strange. She didn’t answer right away, so he panicked. He said she didn’t have to do such a thing. It was inappropriate. She told him to wait, which he thought was odd.

Several hours later, she took up nearly a whole page with a ‘messy’ self-portrait: her words, not his. It was only a bust, but it still transfixed him. It was clear from the drawing she had looked in a mirror, and it was messy, and it was surrounded by words describing her hair color and her favorite dress and her eyes. Stannis couldn’t look at the page for days after that. He’d break out in a sweat just thinking about it.

It was comforting to think about the old picture now. Maybe 'comforting' wasn’t the right word, but she was the one who was good with words, and pictures, and little fantasies like this. She liked to write about what they could do if they met.

Maybe he took too long to respond again. She had written more. We’ll meet and you’ll show me the drum walls around Storm’s End. You promised. I’ll bring my best paintings, I made one for you. I don’t care if it’s allowed or not, it’s a gift. I want to see you so badly it hurts.

Stannis touched the letters. He was startled by how his pale hands seemed to blend into the parchment. He didn’t recognize the knuckles sticking out. He wondered what she sounded like, and how she laughed. He didn’t think he could manage it now. Stannis glanced around for the quill, dipped it into ink with a great deal of effort, and slowly slid it across the paper. He stopped abruptly, ruining the words.

You’re the strongest, most noble man I know. You will make it through this and the rebellion will end, and I’ll be with you. I swear it before the old gods and new.

The ink seeped into the paper, the quill trembled in his hand as he tried to hold it properly. He was dying, he decided. Only dying men ate disgusting leather they tried to boil into water and infected rats. Even the latter was becoming scarce. He scrawled a response, struggling to pull the words together.

I miss you.

I miss you too, Stannis.

#tihs is so self indulgent kfskfks #pls dont expect the other prompts to be this long haha i just went kinda nuts!!#stannis baratheon x reader #libra fics #libra minis

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koshicoast · 3 years

Text

A few shinkami headcannons because I love them more than anything

Shinsou has a growth spurt and practically towers over Denki by their second year (for all intents and purposes, Shinsou has always been in class 1A)

Denki grows a little bit but not that much, he’s not complaining though, he gets Shinsou to grab stuff on the top shelve for him or has him hang up posters in higher places in his room (the only downside is that he has to get on his tippy toes for kisses but usually Shinsou will just bend down like a good boyfriend)

They go on dates every Sunday, It’s their day and it doesn’t matter what they’re doing as long as it’s just the two of them

They could be studying or doing homework or exercising or anything really and they’ll call it a date

The rest of the class knows better than to try and contact either boy on Sunday

“Normies worship Jesus on Sunday but I worship Shinsou” - Denki, at one point in time

Shinsou loves playing with denki’s hair, he buys different kinds of hair clips just to put them in denki’s hair

he just likes how the colors pop out

He especially likes to see purple hair clips in denki’s hair

Tbh it doesn’t have to be hair clips, it could be a scrunchie or a rubber band or a headband; as long as it’s purple it does wonders to shinsou’s heart

Denki likes playing with shinsou’s hair too but more than that he likes seeing Shinsou in yellow clothing

Shinsou doesn’t wear bright colors a lot usually sticking with black or cool tone colors

But when he does wear yellow, Denki just gets all mushy no matter how small it is

It could be yellow earrings or socks or something and Denki will wear a love sick expression all day

Despite being in the hero course, Shinsou still gets incredibly insecure about his quirk and how some people only see him as a villain

Denki, without fail or hesitation, tells Shinsou what a great hero he’s gonna be, he talks about how Shinsou is gonna inspire a new wave of underground heroes and how he’s gonna be some kid’s Aizawa one day and how proud he is of him (The first time he said that, it makes Shinsou sob. It makes denki cry too bc he’s a sympathetic crier so they just lay in bed holding eachother)

He also tells Shinsou how no matter who’s the number one hero, Shinsou will always have first place in his heart. And that Shinsou is just as much as any other hero out there and even a little more because he’ll be underground

Denki just loves his boyfriend so much and whoever planted the idea that some quirks are just made for evil is going to get electrocuted >:(

Denki will also pepper Shinsou in kisses saying things like ‘you are so kind’ ‘you’re an amazing person’ ‘I love you so much’ ‘You’re my hero’ and just a bunch of stuff so by the end of their heart to heart Shinsou is feeling a lot better

Denki gets insecure about how ‘dumb’ he is and how he’ll probably just end up hurting civilians or himself before he hurts a villain

Shinsou hates how that’s how Denki views himself because Denki is one of the kindest people in the world and doesn’t even realize it like the first time Denki told him that insecurity, Shinsou looked at him and was like ‘are you..you’re serious? Denks, You’re one of the most clever people I know’

Whenever Denki mentions it, Shinsou he just squeezes the blonde and lets him cry out his frustrations before telling him that ‘he’s not an idiot or stupid and that it’s okay not to understand something as fast as others and that it’s okay to learn differently and it’s okay’ (Shinsou will always try not to cry but a few tears fall anyways bc he just wants denks to be happy without feeling like he’s a fuckup)

Shinsou never lets Denki call himself an idiot or stupid, even in a joking way.

They don’t fight a lot because of their personalities like

Denki is a people’s person and is really in tune with other’s emotions and by default is a pacifist unless otherwise

Shinsou isn’t a people’s person but he’s observant due to his quirk bc of how he’s been treated in the past, he’s also good at picking up on people’s body language

Most times it’s just small disagreements and even then they communicate the best they can and try to compromise

If that doesn’t work then they’ll give each other space so the disagreement won’t turn into something ugly

They’ve only fought once and it was the worst (and best) thing for them

The fight happened after a mock rescue mission goes wrong and there were weeks of stress and tension leading up to it

It was messy and bad like really bad

“I just don’t get why you have to run into danger!” Denki screamed. The whole dorm could probably hear them but he didn’t care, not when his boyfriend was looking at him like he just lost his mind.

It was supposed to be a simple training exercise. Simple. Go in, defeat villains, rescue the ‘hostages’. It was not that simple.

*insert how badly the mission went and Shinsou ran towards the danger to help or smth idk*

It gets pretty rough between the two of them because they’re both pretty emotional people

Shinsou thinks denki doesn’t want him to be a hero and denki thinks Shinsou doesn’t want to be with him

It’s a lot of insecurities + stress + yelling

Denki is the first one to break, he’s a lot more emotionally sensitive than Toshi and everything is just crashing down and he hates it

“Do you just not want to be with me?!” He cries, unable to keep the tears at bay any more. He hates arguing with people, especially when that person happens to be his boyfriend. He gets it, he does! Toshi is training to become a hero and so is he but that doesn’t make it easier. Doesnt stop the shot of fear whenever he watches the other get hurt, doesn’t stop the late night self deprecation, doesn’t stop the anxiety he gets whenever he sees Toshi run head first into danger.

But he gets it and somehow it’s a bitter realization.

Because Hitoshi’s priority is the job they signed up for and Denki’s is Hitoshi.

The fight ends with tears on both their parts and they call it a night, too tired to scream anymore

They sleep in their own rooms that night

The next morning they agree to take a break, not a full break up, but some time away. Space away from each other to prioritize and think.

(Now ive seen fanfics where everyone picks denki over Shinsou and i hate that so fuck you, class 1A are both their friends and they’re all family and try and to help each other I will die with that statement)

Surprisingly the two most helpful people are Bakugou and Kirishima

(Actually not that surprising, they’re the longest couple in the whole class, dating immediately after Kamino)

Bakugou and denki have a heart to heart

“You’re both dumbasses” Katsuki sighs heavy, passing another tissue over to the sobbing blonde. He’s not good at these kinds of things, but Kirishima told him he could help the electric blonde more than he could so here he is. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong or just cry?” He asks, not without a hint of worry though. He pretends to ignore it.

So denki tells him everything and his insecurities

Oh. Yeah, Kirishima was right.

“You think I’m an idiot” Denki mutters quietly, harshly rubbing his eyes.

“No” The older blonde shakes his head, plopping down on the bed next to the other. He doesn’t turn to meet yellow eyes, his own trained on the All Might poster hanging directly across from them. He feels Pikachu’s curious gaze on him so he decides to elaborate more, knowing the sooner he helps the sooner he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore. It’s totally not because he’s gotten soft. Absolutely not.

“Trust me, Zombie Eyes looks at you like you put the fucking stars in the sky. It’s disgusting to watch.” He crinkles his nose in disgust earning a small laugh. “People like him and I, we gotta work twice as hard. Not saying that no one else does but it’s different.” He stresses the last word. “People like Ei or Deku or even you, people already see you as good so all you gotta do is get stronger. They don’t question your character, your morals, they don’t look down on you for having a weakness. People like Zombie Eyes and I though?we gotta work hard just to prove that we’re good. That we were meant to become heroes. Every action we do is put under a microscope and analyzed.” He explains.

“We’re assholes by default, It’s how we were raised. Not saying it as an excuse though. He was in the shitty system and I had shitty parents, no adult taught us shit like love or how to properly deal with feelings.”

Stupid Deku tried with him but he didn’t even know how to deal with his own much less some angry blond kid’s.

He takes a deep breath, pushing back faint memories of his childhood. The younger hasn’t said a word but he can tell he’s listening so it’s fine. “We can’t just turn off how we are. If it’s frustrating for you and Ei, It’s worse for us. Like we know logically that we’re good people, that we changed but that’s now how our brain sees it. We push ourselves because that’s all we know how to do, it proves to us and everyone else that we bled for our spot here. That we made it. Having friends is hard because we compare ourselves to them and draw our own conclusions to their actions. Being nice? Our brain says it’s a trap. Showing some human fucking decency? Our shitty brain says it’s an act. Being in a relationship? Laughable. We’re just villains pretending to play heroes to everyone else.”

He takes another deep breath, forcing himself to look away from the poster, flashbacks to their first year briefly passing in his head. Okay yeah, not going down that route. He looks over, making eye contact. He wonders if this is how Kirishima feels whenever he’s trying to cheer him up. Wonders if it’s just as hard. This better be worth it, everyone has been miserable. (Shitty thing about having been through life and death situations together is that everyone has bonded and become close like a family so when one of them is sad it’s like everyone is fucking sad.) (He loathes it because even he gets worried.)

“But despite that he still loves you.” He says softly, almost whispering like he’s telling the other a secret. “Fights his demons to hold your hand and all that shit”

Shinsou loves him? Loves him?

“How do you.. how do you know?” Denki whispers, throat sore. “We fought so badly last night, we were screaming at eachother.”

“He treats you the same way I treat Ei.” He answers,

“He changed his priorities around to try and accommodate for another person in his life, you became more important than training or studying. He takes days off to be with you, cuts his studying short if you need a break. It might not seem much to others but for him that’s huge. He came in with this one track mind but then you came along and he scrambled to balance everything. And then you two got your shit together and started to go out and I’m pretty sure he got scared”

“Scared?” Denki asks, the thought almost funny to him.

“I did.” Bakugou admits as Denki’s eyes grow wide.

“I was petrified. When Ei started to become more important than hero work, I freaked. It’s not that loverboy is choosing being a hero over you, It’s because he doesn’t understand that he can have both. He thinks everything important is a choice- that if you want something you have to give something up. He chooses hero work and he loses you. He chooses you and he loses hero work.”

“But he’s not going to lose me or hero work”

“Kinda sounded like you did give him an ultimatum though”

The realization hits him like cold water.

Shinsou gets a similar talk with Kirishima

It helps, a lot

They don’t immediately go back to eachother, instead spending the week with their everyone else and just taking time for themselves

Shinsou knocks on Denki’s door Sunday morning and they finally talk things out

It’s also the first time they say ily!!

Anyways after that fight they work harder on communicating especially when it comes to things like hero work

It’s not perfect bc their dumb traumatized teens but they’re trying and they know their lil family will always be there

I haven’t slept but yes thanks for sticking around if you’re reading this

If ur interested in shinsou’s talk with Kirishima lmk

#shinkami headcannons #shinkami #drabble #snippets #shinsou x kaminari #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #denki kaminari #kaminari #my hero academia #kiribaku #Kirishima #bnha bakugou

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celestial-ringleader · 3 years

Note

pssst here’s a free pass to talk more about your phoenix!gambit au 👀 his design is super cool and i am curious abt what you have figured out so far,,, 🤲

First of all thank you so much ;u;

Okay so to start off with, the basic idea was formed because I was reading over some stuff about the Phoenix Five event that happened a bit ago (and also talks about the Phoenix came up a few times in discord) and I was sort of chilling out and suddenly I got hit with the idea: what if Remy absorbed the Phoenix Force? And then it was all downhill from there.

(Big thanks to @esteicy-blog and @imperiuswrecked for hearing me out on this ajkbkvj)

This is gonna be a long post so I'm putting it under a read more

Design:

So to start with, I'm gonna first go through the outfit design because honestly that's always the fun part for me. I wanted to obviously reference the first Dark Phoenix arc but I also didn't want it to be copy-paste, so in terms of design/over all aesthetic I was taking a lot of inspiration from the OG Dark Phoenix outfit and a bit of Namor's Phoenix look, mostly for the gold detail and the red/black/gold color scheme. And for the outfit I went with for Remy it's sort of a mix of his classic look but also his look in Excalibur. (See below)

I looked at the other Phoenix outfit variants (and apparently there are some Phoenix Gambit designs out there???), but those didn't really inspire me that much?? I wanted him to look more regal while also fucking intimidating, so Phoenix Remy would have armor on while also looking Extra Slutty for good measure (plus some rubies to make him look Expensive).

So then we end up with this: (anatomy is weird here but this was just to get a full-body drawing down, also the coat sadly didn't make it to the drawing since I wanted to show off the gold but he does wear one usually.)

But anyways that's just design stuff and I barely got into the meat of the actual AU.

Overall Story Premise:

So as I was doing research into the Phoenix, I found out that apparently at one point it put itself in some kind of egg in the White Hot room (that's according to the wiki) and that sort of made me start thinking about Remy could've gotten it.

The gist of what I came up with after the last couple of days is that one day the X-Men/Avengers (which I'm not sure who all would be there, but it would definitely have Remy, Pietro, and Jean) are called to do some retrieval mission by investigating a crashed spaceship where they need to find an artifact for the Shi'ar. They aren't told exactly what it is nor what it looks like, only that it's important they get it and they will "know it when they see it".

To not make this post too long and spoil what I might write, basically they go to find it and split off. Remy finds himself in the hull of the ship (which has all the treasure in it so of course he starts looting) when he comes across what looks like a fancy egg-shaped jewel, and aside from feeling warm there's nothing really menacing about it. Remy reports in that he found a weird thing, but he doesn't think it's what they're looking for. Jean tells him to leave it since they shouldn't steal from the Shi'ar...which only makes Remy want it more.

(Here's a visual of what happens basically:)

Remy in fact doesn't leave it and just shoves it in his bag while he finds his way back to the team, but on the way there the wreckage caves in more around him and leaves him trapped. And since there's no other way to escape, he uses the egg (which makes him sad because he really did wanna keep it) but the second he charges it up, he unknowingly releases the Phoenix, which was laying dormant/trapped within the egg until Remy charged up the "potential energy" within it (which was really just the dormant Phoenix energy).

At first the Phoenix tries to go for Jean since she used to be a host, but when it recognizes Remy as being a mutant with incredible power (he's Omega-Level in this au, but his true power is largely dormant), it basically goes like "nah I like this one" and possesses him instead. Soon after that Remy passes out and is taken back to Earth (with a very worried Pietro carrying him as much as he can bc they're dating in this au bc I said so)

Assorted Ideas:

So after the whole thing on the ship weeks go by and no one really knows where the Phoenix is, only that it's out there and will probably try to find a host. Remy says he doesn't know what happened after the egg "hatched" and genuinely has no idea that he's become a host until the Phoenix reveals itself to him in the form of an apparition.

After that he just sort of keeps it quiet while he tries to learn to control it (after all he's learned to control his powers on his own, this can't be too hard right? yes. yes it can be that hard.) Pietro is the first to find out about it because he literally sees Remy sort of transform in front of him during Intimate Times, and that makes Remy freak out and makes him promise not to tell anyone else.

Later on, Remy accidentally hurts Pietro after lashing out (idk why they were probably arguing and Remy's already on edge so he gets angered easily) and since he burns him with cosmic fire, it takes much longer for Pietro to heal. However Pietro doesn't want anyone to find out or get the wrong idea about Remy so he keeps it hidden. Which doesn't last long when Wanda finds out and she immediately goes to beat Remy's ass only to discover the Phoenix Force within him (bc she can sense it and apparently Chaos Magic is one of the Phoenix's weaknesses). She lets him live when he explains that it was an accident, but she also goes like "I fought the Phoenix before, I'll do it again".

After that I'm not sure what happens, but I know it eventually leads to Remy being completely overtaken by the Phoenix and goes on a warpath to ""cleanse"" the universe while also being driven by his rage at the world and some of his (supposed) friends, but he's snapped out of it when Pietro gets close to him and gets him to calm down enough to gain control again. Eventually the Phoenix Force is literally pulled out of him with help from Wanda and Jean, but that whole process is painful and it nearly kills him but it ends up okay. (I'm not strong enough to kill main characters)

Anyways I hope this all makes sense since I was trying to take some notes plus discord convos and making it less incoherent and with less key smashes everywhere.

Thanks again for the ask! Glad you actually wanna hear about my ramblings and such. 🔥🔥🔥

#robin speaks #long post #remy lebeau #phoenix gambit au #robin draws #this was incredibly long but im so excited to talk about this akjbdvkj #maybe ill actually write this but we'll see how it goes with my current wip taking up a lot of time and energy #scoutzbloghub #big shout out to everyone who listened to me ramble about this ajkjdbvjk ik its long and complicated

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asian-hero · 4 years

Note

You are literally the best at writing angst, your fics make me feel some typa way. Can I request a todoroki shoto fic where him and reader are dating and he’s a prohero and she’s a doctor. And shoto is absent a lot bc of work and s/o gets sad bc she feels the relationship is 1sided. They fight bc shoto prioritizes hero-ing, & rder is like “but I save lives too”. They get “close” to splitting, but they makeup somehow. Thank you!!!!!!!

A/N: You think you can get away with breaking my heart just because you complimented me on my writing? 😤 (but in all seriousness, thank you for the compliment!)

You guys know you can request fluffy shit too, right?

Summary: You knew that you and Shouto came from different worlds, and while both of your jobs helped to save people, that didn’t mean that the two of you necessarily saw eye to eye on certain things. One of the things that the two of you never seemed to agree on was your relationship, and you were starting to feel that the two of you would never agree when it came to that.

Words: 3,307

You knew from the start that dating a pro hero wasn’t going to be easy. One day you could wake up next to the love of your life, and then five hours later, you find out that they died while watching the evening news. Or, one day you could find yourself being abducted by villains as a pawn to lure your hero lover into rescuing you, and either become scarred from the trauma of being kidnapped, or be the reason why your partner had fallen. Along with this, the hours for a pro were sporadic and unpredictable, which made it even harder to keep up a healthy relationship. So, it was safe to say that most heroes didn’t usually get into relationships with civilians, and, as a doctor, who had to deal with said heroes, you promised yourself to never get involved with one of them. If not for your physical health, then for your mental health.

Oh, how naive you were.

Somehow, whether it be due to some force in the universe that wanted to prove you wrong, or your own lack of willpower, you not only caught the attention of a certain elemental hero, but he had also caught yours as well. At first, you blamed your flustered state on the fact that he seemed to be one of your most, regular, patients. You tried to fool yourself that you were just simply worried for his health. After all, it wasn’t healthy to be visiting a hospital almost every other week. A few weeks of trying to convince yourself, and you suddenly were faced with the horrendous idea that you may have actually been worried about him because you cared about him, more than you were supposed to. It didn’t help that he was so handsome and sweet. In all honesty, it was truly a marvel that you managed to keep it together for as long as you had.

While you tried to keep your feelings tucked away deep inside of your heart, Shouto seemed to have other plans. On the days that he wasn’t in your hospital, bothering you with some large gash from a villain, or some serious bruises and broken bones from attempting to catch a falling building, he would still make his presence known through vases of flowers addressed specifically to you, as thanks for patching him up. Soon, arrangements of flowers were no longer delivered by the mailman, but instead by Shouto himself. He’d make sure to catch you on your break, or whenever you weren’t busy, just so he could strike up a conversation with you. It was both the most sweet and baffling thing that someone has done for you. Fairly soon after his common visits, the hospital became like his second home, where everyone knew why he was there, and the glamour of having a famous pro hero in their work environment was no longer exciting.

So, no one could really blame you when you started dating him a few months later.

Loving Shouto was one of the easiest things that you’ve ever done. Being in love with him came naturally to you, as if it were another part of your body. He was always so kind and caring, and while he did have his moments where his inexperience in terms of relationships truly showed, he always strived to be the best boyfriend that he could be. You knew that Shouto was the one who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, to grow old with. In fact, about a year into your relationship, Shouto had suggested that the two of you move in together, under the guise that you would both be saving a lot of money when it came to water and electricity, since the two of you practically lived together anyways. Not that you needed a reason to move in with him.

However, life wasn’t always that easy, and relationships don’t always turn out the way you thought they would.

After two years of dating Todoroki Shouto, you knew that the two of you would fall into some form of routine. The “honeymoon” phase wasn’t going to last forever, and you were perfectly fine with that. You still loved him dearly, and even though you both didn’t express it nearly as much as you used to, the feelings were still there, at least, on your side of the relationship.

While the two of you began to fall into your normalcy, with you growing comfortable with each other’s company, you found yourself realizing just how absent Shouto was. It started when he’d cancel your little dinner dates at home, saying that you shouldn’t wait up for him, since he’ll be home late. Of course, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, because you knew that his schedule wasn’t always the best, so you never complained to him. Soon, though, instead of missing dinner, Shouto was missing the entire day. It wasn’t very often that you had the day off, so when you did, he promised that he’d be home as well, so the two of you could make up lost time. But, when the time came, you woke up alone in your shared bed, a short note on your bedside table being your only indication that he’d left the house, and that he wouldn’t be home until late at night. Eventually, your shared apartment started to feel as though you were the only one living in it, and the only way that you knew Shouto was still living there was because the leftovers you’d put in the fridge for him would be gone the next morning.

At first, you tried really hard to be understanding. You knew that he couldn’t always be there with you, as he had a job to do. Any annoyance that you held toward him would be instantly replaced by guilt, since you knew that he was busy. However, as the days turned into months, your patience began to grown thin, and you were starting to question whether or not he even loved you anymore. If he did, he certainly never showed it, nor did he seem to feel the need to tell you that he loved you. In all honesty, you couldn’t remember the last time he told you he loved you, or the last time you ever felt loved. At this point, you were just wondering if he even cared if you were around, or if you were just someone who he knew would always be there.

Though you had managed to keep your feelings away from him for a while, it didn’t take long for your heart to no longer be able to carry your sorrows, and soon enough, you found yourself sitting on your couch at one in the morning, balling your eyes out as you waited for Shouto to come home.

Luckily for you, you didn’t need to wait much longer, as you could hear the soft click of the lock, and in a matter of seconds, you found yourself staring down the love of your life, who seemed shocked at the fact that you were still awake.

“(Y/N)?” He called out, concern filling his voice, “Why are you still awake?”

Wiping your eyes, you took in a deep breath, preparing yourself for what was to come. “We need to talk,”

Though it was a bit hard to see, with only the light from the kitchen illuminating your apartment, you could make out the tired expression on Shouto’s face. With a soft sigh, he moved toward you, patting your head.

“Can we talk about this in the morning?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest. “Will you even be here in the morning?”

Hearing the edge to your voice seemed to catch his attention, as he tilted his head, clearly confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged your shoulders, standing up from the couch in order to meet his eyes. “It’s a simple question, Shouto. You’re not even here when I wake up, so how are we supposed to talk?”

He furrowed his brow, not quite understanding what you were getting at. When he didn’t respond, you let out an obnoxious sigh, all of the anger you’ve been bottling up for the past few months finally rearing its ugly head.

“You know, at first I was fine with you cancelling for dinner. I did my best to understand that you’re a hero, and you have an important job to do,” Your eyes bore into him, almost as if you thought you could convey all of your hurt and anger by just your stare, “But, when you start to become less of a ‘roommate’ and more of a cryptid, that’s where I draw the line.”

“What are you talking about?” You could hear the defensive edge in his voice, and it did nothing to stop the fire from raging in your stomach.

“Do you even remember the last time that the two of us were together? The last time we did something that was remotely romantic? I certainly can’t!” You knew that you were unloading a lot of feelings onto him, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

“Well I’m sorry that I can’t be here all the time, but it’s not like I can just stop what I’m doing just to come home and chat,”

You wanted to rip your hair out. “I’m not asking you to do that!”

“Then what do you want?” He asked, his tone becoming as sharp as a knife, “Do you want me to quit my job? To stop being a hero? I’m not going to stop just because you feel upset. There are actual lives on the line.”

“Do you think that I don’t understand that?” You snapped, your nails digging into the palms of your hands.

“I save lives too, you know! Every single day I go to work and do my best to help out those who need me the most, but you don’t see me neglecting this relationship,”

He scoffed, his lips quirking downwards. “Just because you don’t see the work I put in doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. You knew what my life was like when we started dating, I don’t know why this is surprising,”

“I know what I got myself into! I just wish that I would matter just a fraction as much as your job,”

“You want me to prioritize you over my duty to the people?”

“That’s not what I’m saying! I just want to feel like I’m important to you,” You could feel your shoulders deflating, “Why is that so hard to understand?”

The two of you could have fought the entire night and have gone in circles. Instead, Shouto merely took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Can we just talk about this in the morning? It’s late, and I can’t think about this right now.”

All of the fight that was in you had suddenly dissipated, and all you were left with was this hollow feeling in your chest. Shaking your head, you brushed past him, heading towards the guest room.

“Don’t worry. There’s nothing to talk about anymore,” You didn’t even bother turning towards him, “Just, do whatever you want.”

With that, you shut the door behind you, locking it and then throwing yourself onto the bed, praying that you’d get at least a couple hours of sleep before your shift.

Unfortunately for you, you ended up getting about two hours of sleep before waking up at six in the morning. Wordlessly, you got ready for work, not bothering to check if Shouto was still home, though, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d just taken off right after you left.

Once you had arrived at the hospital, you were instantly greeted by the concerned stares from your coworkers, with some even voicing that you didn’t look so good. Not wanting to worry anyone, you told them that you were fine, and that you just didn’t get that much sleep last night. It wasn’t a complete lie, and it got them off of your case, so, you figured that you got away with it.

You honestly couldn’t remember what happened during the rest of the day. Bits and pieces would come to you, like when you had to do a routine check-up for one of your favorite patients, or when you took a thirty minute nap during your lunch. Other than that, you truly could not remember what you did. In fact, if your receptionist didn’t tell you that it was nearly eight in the evening, you were sure that you would’ve stayed the night by accident.

As you left your shift and hurried onto the next train to take you home, you couldn’t help but replay the conversation you had with Shouto. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship stood. Neither of you had made the effort to contact the other, and although it had only been one day, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. While of course, you were glad that you told him how you felt, and that you wished he could be more present as a partner, you felt bad about how you went about telling him. There were better ways of telling him that you felt as though he didn’t care anymore, and snapping at him was probably one of the worst ways to go about it. So, as you continued your journey home, you figured that you’d apologize for snapping at him like you did, but you were in no way going to apologize for how you felt, or for telling him that you didn’t feel like a priority for him.

Once the train had reached its destination, and you had finally made it to your front door, you were just about ready to collapse onto the couch. Maybe get in a quick nap before eating dinner, or maybe you’d just head straight towards your bed and get a full eight hours of sleep. However, once the door swung open, rather than being greeted by the deafening silence that you had grown accustomed to, you could hear the soft hum of the radio being played, along with the quiet sizzling of something being cooked. Closing the door gently, you took off your shoes and jacket, quietly making your way towards the kitchen. As you peered from the doorway, you watched in awe as Shouto stood over the oven, watching almost warily at whatever he was making. It was obvious that he had no idea what he was doing, and, judging by how messy your kitchen looked, it was clear to you that this wasn’t his first attempt. Glancing over at the dining table, you noticed the pair of bowls and cups that were set, as if he were setting the table for two.

Deciding that you were tired of just standing there, you cleared your throat, making your presence known.

He jumped a bit, whipping his head towards the source of the noise, before letting out a sound of relief. Quickly turning off the stove, he faced himself towards you, and you could tell that he felt awkward.

“What are you making?” You asked, trying to break the tension in the room.

“Fried rice,” He started, rubbing the back of his neck, “I thought I could make dinner, it seemed simple enough,”

You hummed, slowly making your way over to him, trying to gauge his reaction. When he didn’t move away, you stepped closer, peering into the pan to look at what he made. While it was slightly overcooked, you appreciated the effort. Motioning toward the table, you spoke, “Go grab the bowls,”

After a few more beats of silence, the two of you found yourselves sitting in front of each other, staring awkwardly at your bowls of fried rice, unsure of what to say. While you really did want to apologize, you weren’t sure of how to approach the topic. You were worried that, if you brought up last night, it’d just end up with the two of you fighting again.

It seemed as thought Shouto had the same idea as you, as he finally spoke up, “I think we should talk about last night,”

Putting down your spoon, you nodded. Glancing up, you noticed the nervous expression on his face, and though you were about to talk about something serious, you couldn’t help but find comfort in the fact that he was just as nervous as you.

“Before we start,” You began, placing your hands in front of yourself, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry that I got so angry last night. I was bottling up all of my emotions, and instead of just telling you, I let them get the best of me, and I exploded when I didn’t mean to,”

He frowned, moving to take one of your hands in his own, “I’m sorry that I tried to brush off your feelings and got defensive. I was tired and ready to go to sleep, so when you said you wanted to talk, I just snapped.”

You squeezed his hand, offering him a small smile. He returned it almost immediately, holding onto your hand as if you were his anchor. Rubbing his thumb against your knuckles, he gave you a reassuring look.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t listening last night, but I am now,” He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, “Tell me what’s going on,”

You felt a pang of anxiety rushing through you, but you pushed through. Even though you felt awful saying it, the two of you didn’t fight just for the fun of it.

“I know that being a hero means the world to you, and I’m so proud of what you do. You constantly put yourself in harms way in order to protect those who can’t save themselves, and I admire that,”

He nodded his head, ushering you to continue, “But?”

“But,” You said, trying to choose your words carefully, “I feel like you put so much of yourself into your work that there’s not enough of you left when it comes to our relationship.”

You smiled sadly at him. “I’m not saying that I should be your number one priority, I know that would be too selfish. I’d just like to be in the top five, you know?”

The frown on his face made you rethink your words. Mirroring his features, you squeezed his hand. It took him a minute to respond, letting your words sink in. Once he found his voice, he spoke, “You shouldn’t feel like you have to settle for the top five,”

He got out of his seat, pushing it closer to you before sitting down once more. This time, he took both of your hands in his, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry for ever making you feel like you weren’t important to me,”

You shook your head, your nose gently bumping against his. “I know you’re busy,”

“Never too busy when it comes to you,”

You found yourself breaking out into a small grin, laughing a bit. Seeing your relaxed figure, Shouto found himself laughing with you, disconnecting his hands from yours in order to place them on your waist, pulling you closer. As you found yourself practically straddling him, you couldn’t help but run a hand through his hair, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. He seemed to relish in your touch, as he leaned closer to you as you pulled away, causing you to let out another stream of giggles.

While the two of you still had to figure out how to manage your schedules, you were finally filled with a sense of comfort and love, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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ayellowcurtain · 4 years

Text

could u maybe write of sobbe being together at a party and seeing britt there and robbe completely freezes and gets a bit sad and angry bc he's still a bit jealous and hurt bc of how she treated sander and sander just reassures him

Can you please write a fic where Robbe tries to surprise Sander with a romantic dinner, went to the trouble of setting up a romantic atmosphere and everything but clueless!Sander calls him to say he’s staying out late with friends or other excuse. Robbe’s naturally upset but doesn’t mention anything. He clears up everything of the supposed romantic night but afterwards Sander realises his true intentions and feels immensely guilty and tries to make up with Robbe

Robbe knows where Sander’s heart is, he knows where his thoughts are, where his feelings are, he knows Sander like he didn’t think he could ever know someone else. But sometimes it’s hard to ignore his own insecurities. Sander lied to him about Britt before. And he kissed her while he was saying he loved Robbe.

He knows why and how that night happened, but it still hurts. Robbe wishes things had happened different at the start, but it doesn’t change their present and their future together.

It’s just that sometimes it’s hard for him to hide how bothered he is that Britt and Sander still talk sometimes. Robbe only knows Britt from other people’s perspectives, but he can tell she and Sander can be alike with some of their behaviors and Robbe feels like shit for not being like them, for being this well behaved child that hates upsetting others, that’s always thinking about what others might think of him.

Sander noticed how Robbe is still a little jealous of Britt the last time they were snuggling on the couch and then he opened his conversation with Britt to reply to her. Sander looked at him, somehow smiling and finding Robbe’s jealousy so cute, he came closer like he always does, sitting almost on top of Robbe, reading every single message he ever exchanged with Britt even thought Robbe told him a bunch of times he didn’t have to.

Even if only for a few weeks, even if he was in between them at times, Robbe watched Sander and Britt’s relationship for a little bit.

He watched them make out during all those days at the beach. Sander would be looking at him and maybe falling for him, but he was still with Britt, with her in his lap, kissing her, sleeping with her.

One night he even slept with her in that double bed bedroom and Robbe remembers he couldn’t sleep, thinking they were right there, just a wall between their rooms. He didn’t hear anything, but he knew what that bedroom was for. Robbe managed to avoid going there with Noor, but Sander didn’t. And he didn’t have to, that’s dumb, they were together, dating, having sex.

Robbe forces himself to stop thinking about all of that when he finishes lighting all the candles. He felt bad for all his stupid insecurities affecting their relationship and he wanted to make it up by making a fancy, romantic dinner date for them.

A night where they could stay inside, just the two of them like they love to do, spend hours lost in each other, forgetting about Britt and anyone else, eating good food, being romantic like Sander loves to be and stuff.

Robbe tried to take a long and relaxing shower, to shave his stubble from a few days, put some nice clothes on. Once he was done, he was already late, but that’s the good part of having their date at home.

He texted Sander just to make sure he didn’t forget about the surprise Robbe said he had for him.

But Sander wasn’t online and it took a while for him to reply.

The food was already cold, the candles were already melting away inside their little glasses, the bright light turned into a foggy, weak, smokey thing that didn’t light much.

Robbe gave up waiting after two hours sitting by himself on their couch. It wasn’t Sander’s fault, he didn’t know the surprise had a specific hour to happen so Robbe just blew out the candles and put them all away inside the little basket inside their kitchen cabinet, he washed the dishes and put the food inside the fridge so Sander could eat later if he wanted.

Of course he was upset, but mostly with himself for being so dumb, insecure and jealous. He took his fancy clothes off and took another shower. It felt like he had gone out so a shower felt like it was a must to get his body back to the normal routine of taking a shower after coming home and before going to bed.

Sander was having a good time with Britt and their friends. It took them a while, but it was good to hang out with their group of friends again and to know everything was okay between him and Britt.

He usually doesn’t stay out until this late and so on his bike ride back home it’s almost painful how much he misses Robbe, but Sander was sure he wouldn’t mind, they talked about this just a few days ago and Robbe was okay with him and Britt talking.

He laughs at how stupid he’s being, pedaling as fast as he can like they did on their first date inside the tunnel, just to be back with Robbe quicker.

“Robbe?” he asks once he finds an empty house, he’s still out of breath from running upstairs, but he hears the shower so he closes the door, paying attention to the fancy smell inside, it’s definetely from a candle they bought togehter when they moved in to this place and Sander smiles, thinking that maybe Robbe is giving himself a spa night type of thing. So he lets him be for a minute, looking around for food in the kitchen.

There has to be something, because their old washing machine is still working. So Sander continues on his search and when he opens the fridge is when all the pieces fall together.

There’s a bunch of food that wasn’t there earlier when he left, the smell of candles, Robbe being quiet and the washing machine working so late. Robbe had a fucking surprise.

Shit!

Sander forgets all about his hunger and anything else and rushes carefully to their bathroom. Robbe is still taking his shower.

“Robbe...” His boyfriend jumps a little and turns back around, finally seeing Sander, but he can’t see much of Robbe in return. The glass door of their shower is foggy, but Sander imagines Robbe is not too happy so he takes his clothes off, keeping his eyes on the shadow that Robbe creates behind the door, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know...”

“It’s okay...” he hears Robbe’s soft and broken voice even with the loud shower and Sander gets a little more worried by the way he sounds, he opens the door carefully and finally meets Robbe.

He’s not crying now, but Sander is sure he cried at some point and his heart breaks into a million pieces.

“Robbe, I’m so sorry. I should have told me about this. I would run home.”

“Stop, it’s okay. It was a dumb idea.” Robbe avoids his touch and Sander doesn’t force him to do anything, but it stings the way he can’t touch Robbe and kiss him sorry.

“No, it’s not dumb. Can we do it now? Please? We can eat now...”

“Sander, it’s okay...”

“Please, Robbe...please.” He whines and pouts and uses everything he can to change Robbe’s mind.

Robbe sighs and blinks slowly like he does when he’s really tired, but Sander needs to make it up for this mess. “I’m tired...”

“I’ll do everything. You just have to sit and eat.” He whispers, gently trying to touch his boyfriend’s cheeks, looking at Robbe, pressing his fingertips against the back of his neck.

“Okay...” Sander tries to smile, not to think about how he fucked up tonight so massively. He helps Robbe finish his shower and dry himself and Sander grabs some fancy clothes from their closet, going to change in the living room so they have a little surprise when they see each other dressed up.

Robbe takes a little longer and when Sander is about to go to their bedroom to check if his boyfriend hasn’t slept, Robbe finally walks out, looking so handsome, with pants that are not that big on him, a soft black shirt with two closed buttons on his chest and Sander smiles, it was one of his Chistmas gifts for Robbe.

Sander holds his hand carefully and walks Robbe to their small dinner table, pulling a chair for Robbe to sit and wait while he does everything: lights the candles again, putting them on a line across the table and he goes around to grab some clean dishes to put food for both of them, putting some soft, romantic music in the background as he waits for the microwave to reheat everything.

He looks down just to see what he’s already feeling: Robbe’s eyes on him. Small, tired, a little red eyes looking at him with no more hint of sadness. He’s back to being his gentle, kind self and Sander doesn’t deserve him.

Sander walks quietly around the table and Robbe follows him with his eyes, smiling softly when Sander puts his hands on the armrests, looking down at Robbe.

“I love you so much, Robbe. I’m sorry for coming home so late.”

“It’s okay...” Robbe looks down, his fingertips very quietly drawing random forms in the back of Sander’s hands. “Was your night fun?”

“No, it’s not. And yeah, it was, but it’s a lot better now. Everything is a lot better when you’re around.” Sander goes even closer, brushing his lips against Robbe’s, smiling when he closes his eyes.

“Your love, I feel you around me all the time” Robbe smiles and Sander can’t help but feel a little proud that Robbe recognizes Bowie’s lyrics now. Sander always heard his songs trying to imagine the feelings he was talking about, but he gets it now.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe

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atinykidult · 4 years

Text

The Wind in His Ears — Choi San

[angst w/fluff] [2221 words] — A prompt taken overboard, wherein San loses his heart but finds it again. Disbandment!au, be warned. No tws except for loneliness (and reference of sex, I guess)

[prompt] — Travel!au, strangers to lovers, “That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”

[dedication] — If you like soft or sexy stuff please check out @sanflowerseeds‘s works! They’re phenomenal (and written by an also phenomenal person!) I’m so sorry this took so long! I love you, Nanda, and hope you’re doing well!

[a/n] — This may be my worst fic ever, bc it has gone through so many directional changes. But it’s been a WIP so long, I just wanted it posted haha If you have time, please leave me some notes on what went wrong/right! Thank you for reading!

When Choi San hits his mid-thirties and feels his joints crackle a few decibels too loudly, he knows his body won’t take much more. So when their second round of contract negotiations roll around, his decision has already been made for him.

But when Hongjoong delivers the official group stance, his heart still cracks.

And when they have their final performance, San’s the last one to cry.

Because his tears will last the longest.

The crack in his heart spreads into a veritable canyon in his world.

A scattering wind blows through that empty cavern, pulling Hongjoong to mentoring a new rookie group and Jongho to OST deals. But San gets to stand with Yeosang at his wedding; he grabs coffee with Wooyoung every other week, usually...

So San pretends he’s fine for six months.

After all… Mingi sends memes to the group chat all the time—

And Seonghwa makes sure to Facetime regularly—

San wanders the streets of Seoul, hands stuffed in his pockets, the loud wind in his ears for his only company. At home, whenever he stands up stiffly, there’s only him to laugh at his cracking joints. Well… he laughs at himself, to begin with. Then he doesn’t laugh.

One day, he’s wandering the streets again when he sees it. An ad for a travel agency.

There’s only wind in his ears as he considers it.

“A toast to San!” announces Hongjoong, voice forcibly cheerful. “Who’s going on a world tour!”

Eight glasses are lifted in the air; seven pairs of eyes look incredibly worried.

Someone wraps themselves around San as other voices chime in.

“San, fighting!”

“Let’s gooo!”

“World travel!” someone shouts in English.

San’s heart both heals and breaks again as he looks at his seven friends who dropped everything to wish him well.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he tells them wetly.

Maybe it’s Jongho’s knowing eyes that make him shed the first tear.

Maybe it’s how the others all know how much he’s hurting, and how utterly relieved San feels to be back with these seven other people.

No matter the reason, San cries at this moment, clinging to his former groupmates as they hug him goodbye. There’s promises to text, proclamations of staying up just for video chats. There’s also seven whispers of the same sentiment: I hope this can help you heal.

He meets you in a coffeeshop. Your coffeeshop, actually.

It’s his second visit, and for some reason, it’s one of his favorite places he’s found in his travels. Something about its atmosphere draws him in. The warmth. The way it has nooks where he can sit and people-watch. The way the food tastes nearly perfect every time. The way it’s so empty when he comes in for his breakfast.

The way it’s just a minute’s walk from his hotel.

Correction: It is his favorite establishment he’s found in his grand travel.

Truthfully...

The “grand travel” hasn’t been so grand. He’s jumped around the world a little, going wherever the wind blows, renting a room for however long the wind calms down. Leaving for the next city or town whenever it gets worse.

On good days, he can look around himself and feel his heart stir a little. Because he’s gotten to see some incredible things.

On bad days, he can feel the wind utterly drop. When it does, he’ll look around himself. He’ll wonder if he really wanted to see Canada that one time. Or if he just chose a country 12 hours different from Korea because maybe, just maybe, flipping his clock completely could flip his life around, too.

Today’s one of the better days, actually.

As he hands you his payment, you offer small talk.

Ask about his day.

He tells you he’s fine, that he could be much worse off, truly believing it. (But also believing he could be much better off, too.)

Something in your gaze seems to understand him.

“And how’s your day?” he offers, his pronunciation a little messy.

“It exists,” you reply.

A mirror of him, at heart.

He comes into your coffeeshop the next day and knows it’s just going to be a daily thing until he leaves this city.

That one booth in the back left corner… It has good seats.

As he settles down with the same order he had gotten the last two days, he catches your eye. Smiles with his lips.

And something about that one thing makes him realize.

He hasn’t truly had anything like this in a while. The same food, three days in a row. Someone who’s met his eyes, three days in a row.

It’s another good day.

The howling wind grows just a little quieter.

“Two orders of today’s special and an einspänner?” you ask as he moves to the counter.

His eyebrows furrow. “Oh?”

“You’ve been here three days straight, exact same order,” you smile, “first customer of the day.”

“Ah.” He takes a moment to gather his words, unsure if this was accusatory or just observation. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I can—”

“No! It’s, ah, it’s nice. You’re always very pleasant, to me.” He recalls that first encounter, how you had seemed to understand the weight of his few words. “Are you a tourist? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before this week.”

“You could say so.”

“Any plans for today?”

The wind pushing him around never made plans.

“Not really,” he admits.

“Taking it as you go?”

“You could say so.” He notices how you look at him with a measuring look. One that makes him feel seen, and he hasn’t felt that way for a very long time. But it isn’t an unwelcome feeling. “Do you have any recommendations? On what to do? Things you like?”

You smile bittersweetly. “I have some ideas.”

“Can you tell me a few?” The words come out of San’s mouth without thinking.

At that moment, the door opens with a whoosh, and another customer steps in.

“Tell... tell you what,” you say. “I have an employee coming in in half an hour. If you would like the company, I can give you those suggestions over a second cup of coffee?”

Meeting your eyes, something in him feels like hiding. But something else in him leaps at the offer. “I’m a slow eater. So yes.”

You smile again, a little wider.

His lips, too, twitch upwards of their own volition.

That day, San makes an itinerary for the first time on his trip—and, maybe, a friend.

After a long day of hiking, San collapses on his hotel room bed and feels a stirring of optimism in his chest. The weariness in his bones almost feels familiar. He had collapsed like this many times after concerts or performances.

He stares at the ceiling, consciously wondering for the first time on this trip, if he’s ready to face the wind.

His eyes land on his suitcase.

His hands move to unpack it.

And the wind in his ears, again, gets a little quieter.

As he walked into your coffeeshop the next day, he asks you to sit with him from the get-go.

You peer into his eyes, spotting equal measures of hope and uncertainty, and immediately drop your paperwork. “Of course.”

His conversation is nice; his personality is nicer. (Possibly his skin is nicest, but that’s irrelevant.)

Your conversations continue, and by the tenth day, you’re sharing the thoughts that sometimes scare you. From your worries about disappointing everyone to wondering if your degrees even mattered... you spill it all out. He does the same.

Which is scary, because you’ve only known him for ten days. Seven, really.

Based on the way he’s ducking his head right now, his story hanging in the air sadly, he must feel similarly.

(He hasn’t told anyone about his story, his sad state, since he left Korea. He doesn’t share every detail, but he says enough that both he and the wind in his ears feel very shaken.)

Forty minutes later, he stands to leave, and you hear some joints crack.

“Maybe the chiropractor?”

His smile in response is remorseful.

You stand, too, and feel your neck crack a little.

“Maybe we both can go?”

And the smile is a little less sad.

You have known San for two weeks now, and today, he enters the shop much more confidently than usual. With a shy smile (but genuine, you realize), he shows you pictures of a lake you had directed him to. He had caught it on a good day. As he lets you scroll through the pictures, you find that someone must have taken his picture for him.

You want to say something meaningful as you study the way his skin has grown so golden in these two weeks. The way his smile reaches his eyes.

“You look nice here,” you say simply.

That shy smile turns larger.

You don’t know if this is a bad habit, dropping everything to share breakfast with San every morning. But, what did it hurt anything? After you asked your employees to come in early to cover for you, they agreed too quickly.

Because they are amazing humans, you think.

And because they are ridiculous humans, they smile knowingly at each other as either you or him look at the other for a moment too long.

And, because you both are pathetic, San and you never notice.

By the third week, you wonder why you haven’t exchanged phone numbers.

Naturally, then, you laugh and casually give him your number after he admits getting lost yesterday.

“I know you’re not a damsel in distress or anything, but next time… just call me if you get lost.”

He doesn’t mean to look at you so intently after that, but he does.

You don’t look away.

Swallowing, he wonders if you can see the lingering sadness he feels, the wind still throwing him off balance sometimes. The weight of knowing how worried his hyungs are for him, the fear that he had done something to his body when he was younger, so it was all his fault somehow...

But as your gaze slips to his lips for just a moment, he also wonders if you are seeing what thousands of fans had once seen. Something worthy.

When your gaze moves back to his eyes, and you start talking about nonsense, he knows: You could see it all, and more, even.

San feels something stir in his chest, something warmer and kinder and more enticing than the thrall of dancing to thousands of cheers.

When he finally finds it in himself to say goodbye, he can’t help but ask. “Can I call you when I’m not lost, too?”

Three days after that, San wakes and feels an impossibly strong urge to sing. Just something bright and loud. Something hopeful.

He pictures your coffeeshop and your face.

And he feels himself smiling widely.

Opening his phone, his fingers type faster than the wind:

Heading your way in 10 :)

That weekend, you go drinking together.

You’re both tipsy, sitting in a bar booth with your sides pressed together, and everything comes to head.

You’re both tipsy and warm, filters long lost, when San pours out the rest of the story to you. The side of the story that the wind in his ears usually hid in white noise.

It’s a euphoric story with deafeningly beautiful highs, but also a heartbreaking one with devastatingly ugly lows. But as he pours out the joys of standing on stage, of the laughter-filled, starlit walks back to the dorms, you know it was worth it to him.

And you also come to know, he didn’t choose to quit.

He keeps pouring drinks; keeps pouring out his emotional, earnest soul.

Midway through the night, your dulled head has just enough awareness to realize you are in love with that soul.

And as you have to wave away another glass, you will always hold onto the magnificent moment when he admits: “But I don’t feel sad about any of it when I’m with you.”

The next day, you wake up at your place. San’s lying beside you.

“Morning,” he groans.

If your head and body didn’t hurt so much, that alone would have inspired you to restart last night’s activities.

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Same.”

Your legs are slightly brushing each others, but your torsos aren’t touching. It makes you feel sad. Then something in you melts when he shifts his weight closer to you so they are.

“Are”—you yawn—”we going to that… ugh…. waterfall today?”

“Not after last night.” He buries his face against your hair.

“Yeah…” Your head throbs, and you groan again. “That was a very bad idea, 0/10 would not recommend.”

San makes an offended sound in the back of his throat. “The alcohol or the sex?”

Yawning again, you can barely reply. “You know which one.”

He kisses your head and yawns as well. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Soon.”

“Soon?”

“But... not right now.”

After yawning together, he chuckles against your hair. “Yeah, sleep... for now.”

As you both close your eyes again, San can only hear two things:

One, the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Two, the soft hum of your ceiling fan.

He falls asleep knowing:

There’s no wind.

[ateez taglist] — @seongghwaa @s1ardusk @yunwoo @toffee-hwa @yunhowhoitiss @sippn-the-tae @yeocult @barsformars (thank you for your support! I love y’all so much!!! <3 <3 <3)

#ateez #choi san #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #san imagines #choi san imagines #kpop #kpop imagines

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

tapestry 👑 XVIII

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader struggles.

Note: Bienvenue power bottoms. So hopefully I can post another chapter on xmas eve then have my day off from everything while I slave over a turkey dinner :) I work straight through the week with the exception of xmas itself and I’m hoping y’all are enjoying it. Also sorry about tags. I can’t really keep up bc I have no other time and these are usually queued to go up when I work and I don’t tag in original posts because they don’t work.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

The trial stretched beyond a fortnight. The council called a dozen more witnesses to the stand as they examined both the queen’s behaviour and her alleged role in the poisoning.

Several stablehands testified to her role in your injury, another half dozen kitchen servants were called to answer for the preparation of the king’s tainted breakfast, and Eleanor’s own personal servants were questioned on her marriage. They all reaffirmed the story being laid out so perfectly against her.

With each day, you found yourself more on edge. As you listened to the witnesses, as you thought of the last night you’d spoken to the queen, of her earnest pleas, you found yourself watching her. You prayed, against all that faced her, that she would not meet that most final and cruel fate. For if she did, you could not help but feel your hand in it.

That day was no different. Your chest felt tight and you found it hard to breathe as you entered the courtroom. You were exhausted of being there. The room must have been as grim as the cell they kept Eleanor in. The light that glowed through the stained glass was blinding and near torturous. The seat was hard and unforgiving beneath your skirts. The air was suffocating. You didn’t know how much longer you could stand it.

The room went silent as the cardinal stood and announced the commencement of proceedings. Ellis stood and lingered by the bench for a moment. He bent to hear whatever slithering words your father whispered in his ear. Your shoulders slumped as they called for Eleanor and the door opened; the usual whine of hinges that mourned her each day.

She stood at the podium and her blonde hair shone in the morning light. She wore another white gown as she resumed her vigil. Ellis approached his own perch and unwrapped his paper from his leather folder. He took his time as if to rile the queen; as if to draw the audience to impatience.

“Your holy cardinals, your highnesses, your grace,” He addressed each figurehead with a nod. “Today we would call a most important witness to stand and hope that this case is even closer to its conclusion. We have tarried here for long and I know we do grow weary but we must not leave a stone unturned.”

All in the room seemed to squirm at Ellis’ words. All were tired of his airy words and prolonging tangents. They were eager to reach the end of it; if not to be free of the courtroom but to see how it would all come together. Though it was not difficult to surmise how it would end.

“So today, we call a witness who did find herself at the mercy of the queen’s wrath and one of only a few witnesses to the attempted murder of King Steven.” Ellis spoke flatly but his voice built; almost excited. “The court shall call upon the youngest daughter of Malford.”

Slowly, the audience turned and craned on the benches to look at you. You blinked, stunned. You were certain you’d imagined the announcement. How could they call you without warning? How could they call you to testify on a queen who had outrightly declared herself your enemy? How could they expect you to do anything more than you already had?

“Lady,” Marion nudged you and you looked to her dumbly. “They call on you.”

You just stared at her and shook your head. She took your elbow and stood. She pulled you to your feet as you latched onto her wrist.

“Please,” You whispered. “Please, I can’t.”

She looked at you startled. Sad, even. “You must.” She peeled your fingers from around her wrist and squeezed your hand. “I can’t go with you.”

You trembled and raised your head. You glanced around at the benches and then to the cardinals and royals. All watched you intently; with untethered expectation. You grabbed your skirts and held your breath as you walked along the row to the aisle.

You descended to the floor where the queen stood across from Ellis and the judges loomed in their box opposite the other. You passed behind the queen as you went to the witness stand and stepped up to the podium. You let out a long exhale and released your skirts.

“My lady, do you swear to the truth entirely and without censor before these cardinals and before our lord in this court of the See?” Ellis asked.

You glanced over at the queen. Her face was set in a cool mask as she refused to acknowledge you. Your eyes floated up to the box where the king sat. He sat with his shoulders set and stared you down. You lowered your chin and cleared your throat. Finally, you found the strength to lift your head again.

“I do.” You said as firmly as you could. “Though I do not promise I can offer any truth you shall find convenient.”

“Very well, my lady, you need only be honest with the court,” Ellis replied and flipped the paper before him before turning it back. “What is your relationship with King Steven?”

You were shocked by the question. Your head pulsed as the words returned to you; ‘Do not let yourself fall into the same trap.’ You gulped and focused on Ellis. Don’t look at the kings or the cardinals, just stand and tell the truth.

“I did serve his wife, Queen Eleanor, for two years past,” You said. “But our relationship has been strictly as any king’s would be with any unwed lady.”

“And your relationship with Eleanor? What is, or was, that like?”

“I sat among her ladies and found her to be a most generous queen. She was ever kind to me…” You pressed your hands flat to your skirts as they began to sweat.

“Generous? Kind? How was it then that she came to rig your saddle upon a hunt and nearly maim you as a result?” Ellis intoned. “That does not seem to fit your description of her demeanour.”

“She was those things until a point,” You admitted. “But I never did see her as entirely cruel, only… hurt.”

“Hurt? And why should she be hurt by the daughter of an earl who for two years has gone unnoticed and unaffected?” Ellis asked sharply. “Did it perhaps relate to the king’s favour for you?”

“It might have. Surely, it did for she did say it,” You said. “But I could not blame her.”

“You would not blame her? Is that because your relationship with the king was more than just a lady and king’s acquaintance should be?”

“No, no,” You shook your head. “It was never more than propriety should permit but…” You looked at the queen.

“But…?” Ellis led and you shrugged as you looked forward again. “How was it you came to favour with the king?”

“I suppose he enjoyed my company,” You answered plainly. “But I did warn him of the circumstance. I did remind him that I was a lady who did seek a proper and true marriage.”

“And so there never came to be anything untoward between you and the king?” Ellis prompted.

“If you ask if I was his mistress, I can attest the answer is no. If you ask if I did seek to distract him from his wife, the answer is no.” You stated bluntly. “I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be stood here opposite this woman in such a circumstance. I never wanted her to guide her husband towards me or to have such attentions grow so dubious.

“If you ask if I believe the queen to be malicious, I do not. If you ask if I believe her to have attempted to intimidate me thereafter, I do, but I do not believe her to have done so with the intent of true harm.” You frowned at Ellis as he tapped his fingers on his podium. “If you ask if I think she should face such dire consequences and be cast out, I do not. I do not wish this upon any.”

There was a stir from the benches and flurry of whispers. You didn’t move. You didn’t look behind you or beside you.

“And when you say she guided her husband towards you, what do you mean?” Ellis pondered.

“I…” You began.

“Did Eleanor intend to lead Steven to adultery?” He asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know what she intended.” You rasped.

“But you say she guided him? How do you know she did? Or is this a supposition?”

You blanched and peeked at the queen. Her brow wrinkled as her eyes bored into the stained glass.

“Did she ever tell you of such intents?” Ellis prodded.

You looked back to him and let your shoulders slump. “Yes,” You breathed. “She did suggest to me that she was unhappy with the king’s former mistress and she wished him to be more modest in his affairs.”

“His affairs? And what proof did she have of these affairs?”

“I don’t know.” You swallowed. “The court spoke of them.”

“Rumours? The same which would paint you in the same light though you uphold your virtue?”

“I… Yes, I suppose they would be rumours.”

“And so it would not be ridiculous to assume that Eleanor intended to defame Steven? That she, perhaps, sought to deflect the guilt from herself?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it true, my lady, that Eleanor did banish you from court?” Ellis continued, unfazed.

“She did.” You affirmed.

“And why did she do this?”

“I do not know. Because she did not like the king’s attentions towards me.”

“But you did not indulge her ploy?”

“I did not. I never attended the king without a witness and I never did seek him out,” You said.

“And so she was unhappy that you did not take the role she assigned you in her attempts to disparage Steven?”

“She might have been but I cannot say with certainty.”

“So would you still call Eleanor kind and generous?”

“I… I… don’t know.” You grasped your skirts tightly.

“My lady, you are distressed? Why?” Ellis dropped the paper in his hand.

“Because I was unaware that I should stand here today. Because I never thought to answer these questions as such.” You hung your head and exhaled. “Because I never wanted to cause anyone else so much grief.”

“But if this should be the truth, then you should not have been the cause of all this grief.” Ellis argued. “And you needn’t feel so bad for saying it. It is the truth, isn’t it?”

“I can’t lie,” You raised your head. “I could not and I fear that has been the cause of all this.”

“And do you think then, that should Eleanor’s attempt to poison Steven and yourself had been successful, it would’ve been earned because you did evade her will?”

“N-no,” You winced. “No, I only think she felt as any woman would have.”

“And would you, in a similar situation, have turned to such a final resolution?”

“No, b-but I do not… I don’t…” You blinked as your eyes burned. “I do not wish to see Eleanor harmed. I stand here and I do not wish her ill, as I do not think she wished it on me. Not in so much as this court would infer. I only think she was angry and her pride wounded. I cannot forsake her when I never believe she did the same to me.”

“So, if you do not believe it was Eleanor who poisoned you, who would have motive to do so?” Ellis continued.

You opened your mouth than closed it. “I… the king has a taster for the very purpose that poison is a danger. I suppose there would be many unseen enemies.”

“But should those enemies also wish to affect you? Who else could seek to act against both the king and yourself?”

“I… I…” You sputtered and shook your head. You looked at Eleanor, her eyes were downcast. Her veneer had softened. She looked vulnerable as a rainbow glinted off her pale skin and ivory dress. “I don’t know.”

“And you have heard the testimony of this trial? Of the servants who swore to the queen’s orders and her own hand in the act of treason? Do you think that your belief in the queen should disprove their accounts of the events?”

You peered around desperately. The cardinals watched you with vacant interest and the three figures in the kings’ box leaned forward eagerly to hear you. Steven’s eyes were crinkled with blatant intrigue. His lips threatened to curve.

“I suppose… No.” You said softly.

“My lady, do not blame yourself. You are young and naive, but you have behaved most admirably in your circumstance. Your innocence has led you to misjudge the queen and we cannot hold that against you.” Ellis pontificated as a priest would at confession. “How can we condemn a young lady such as yourself who did hold herself to the upright standards of morality when she was surrounded by such misconduct?”

You were silent. You reached to the podium to brace yourself as you felt like to crumple.

“My lady, we thank you for your honesty this day. We commend your comportment in these matters and we do hope that we can seek for you and all those who have been affected justice and truth.” Ellis ran his fingers along the sides of his papers until they were straight. “You may step down.”

You stood stunned. You didn’t move until you sensed a figure beside you. A guard in mail beckoned you down from the stand and helped you down from the shallow platform. The audience was rapt as they watched you retreat from the stage and as you approached the benches, they all stood. As you walked along the aisle, they bowed their heads.

You walked carefully along the bench and resumed your seat beside Marion. The people sat and Marion touched the back of your hand. Your fingers were curled around the fabric of your skirts. You sat stiffly as you tried to see through the blur which rose in your vision.

“My lady,” Marion whispered, “You did well.”

👑

That night was the most restless you had ever known. Even those days before your debut at court, you had never been so unsettled. Eleanor's face stained your mind and kept you awake. The king's too.

When at last you gave up and rose, you dressed in the dark. An old plain gown without a corset beneath. You pulled a cloak over your shoulder and slipped your feet into a pair of slippers. You hid your hair beneath the loose hood of the cloak. You lit a lamp and held it aloft.

You tiptoed to the doors and pulled one open. You were greeted by the mailed guard who stood outside as he turned to look at you. He didn't say a word, only held out his arm to block your way.

"I only wish to go for a walk," You said. "I cannot sleep."

He stared at you and squinted. You saw him weigh his thoughts. He slowly lowered his arm and nodded.

"I will follow." He stated. "As my duty would have me."

"Very well," You allowed. "Though I don't know that my enemies lurk in the night but rather stand proudly in the light."

He did not reply. He merely waited until you stepped out and pulled shut the door behind you. You set off along the corridor and he kept a pace back. The light of the lantern formed a small halo around you. Your slippers padded on the stone as the guards boots echoed loudly behind you.

You’d never walked the corridors so late. You wondered if perhaps it was wise to. Your doubt quickly passed as your mind returned to the day’s events; your turn at the stand; the way your heart plummeted when you thought of the queen’s expression. As if she had realized something but was too afraid to truly face it.

You walked without heed to direction. You were certain you made more than one circle before straying in your reverie. You stopped before the dark corridor. Bleak and vacant. You raised your lantern as you crept along the offshoot and turned to look up at the tapestry that hung from a peg high on the wall.

The rosettes were colourful in the lamplight, even as shadows drowned in their creases. You shuddered as you felt a draft around your neck. You leaned and reached to pinch a rosette between your fingers. The very one you’d sewn that day months ago. You tugged at it until the thread snapped and it unraveled in your hand. The red silk looked like blood as it rippled over your palm.

Your guard snapped to attention and his blade whispered against its sheath. You stood straight and looked along the corridor from behind him. The footsteps came clearer and he drew his steel entirely. A shadow appeared at the mouth of the hallway. It held a glowing orb.

“Who goes there?” The guard readied his sword. The shadow approached as the light distorted its features.

“It is only me,” Lord Barnes angled his candle away from his face. He stopped short as he spotted you behind the guard. “You would allow the lady to wander at night?”

“I have been told to keep watch over her,” The guard replied plainly. “And I have done that. She is safe with me.”

“We have many visitors in the castle. Many unknown faces.” Barnes said. “Harder to recognize in the dark.”

“And should I worry of those who do lurk in the dark?” You stepped up beside the guard.

“Some,” Barnes replied. “Though not all.”

“Not all?” You countered.

“Yes, surely none should fear you.” He chided.

“I only wander, my lord, to soothe my wandering mind,” You assured him. “I do not seek out trouble.”

“You need not seek it out to find it.” He grinned and the candle caught his sapphire like eyes. “I was only upon my way from a late night meeting. The trial does extend one day into the next.”

“So it does.” You agreed and rubbed the red silk with your thumb. His eyes flicked to the subtle movement. He squinted then nodded in recognition. He leaned over to glance behind you through the black.

“We can wish away the past but we can not unravel the threads of time,” He mused. “Do you wander or do you find yourself trapped and seek to find the way out?”

You hung your head and brought the fabric closer to examine it. The wrinkles of its former twists marred the smooth silk. The lines could not be steamed or ironed out. They would remain after so long restrained.

“How the time does seem to pass so slowly and yet so quickly.” You said and tucked away the fabric. “And this night does wane in kind.”

“My lady,” He stepped closer, but not too close, and your guard clinked his sword against the stone. “You cannot undo what is done. You would only torture yourself by dwelling on it.”

“This court is all so eager to forget. To sweep aside what was and for what?”

“You think too much.”

“Or not enough. Perhaps if I had thought more, I’d not be in this position.”

“Or perhaps you’d be in worse.” He breathed. “You cannot save her, but you can save yourself.”

“And what do you care?” You challenged.

He shrugged. “I’ve seen women come and go. Now I should see the one I never thought to see gone on her way out. And I see you and I foresee the same. But I also see another end. A better one which you might attain should you learn from those who came before. Should you use that which the other women never had to your favour.”

“Which would be?”

“His love. You might not believe it to be such but it is as close as he’ll ever know,” He said. “Foster it. Nurture it. For if you appease his heart, you do assure your fate.”

You shook your head and the lamplight wavered and cast shadows over him. “Why do you say this to me?”

“Because I do not relish the thought of seeing you in Eleanor’s place,” He said as he stood straight. “In fact, I think I might fear that as much as you.”

You stared at him in the firelight. He wasn’t the sardonic lord or staunch advisor, he was just him. He was genuine. And he was the first you’d know at court to be thus. Your lips parted but your thoughts never reached them.

“I shall bid you good night, my lady,” He said. “I should hope you find yourself safely back to your chambers.”

“And you, my lord,” You returned. He bowed and hesitated before he finally turned away. You watched him go and let the lamp hang at your side.

“If I may, my lady,” Your guard remarked. “I think he might be right.”

“Do you think that?” You looked to him in the dull glow of the lamp.

“Why surely,” He said, “It would be a pity to end up as the queen has.”

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #medieval au #au #series #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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screechingateveryone · 3 years

Text

Solangelo bullet fic bc me & a friend came up with something & I can't not write something for it (This got really fucking long, so this is part 1)

Warning(s): Major character death

Eventual happy ending, put it takes a while

They're both a little older, maybe around 20-ish, when Nico starts feeling something nagging at the back of his mind

He's not sure what it is yet, but he doesn't like it

One day, while he's sparring, the nagging gets louder. Telling him to win, no matter what.

He almost listens to it, but he's sparring with Will, he'd never hurt Will, then he's knocked back onto his but and the match is called

The nagging gets louder, but it's pointing out what he should've done to win. It suggests something Nico would only think of doing in nightmares

He sits there for a few minutes, trying to calm down. Will checks on him. Nico says it's nothing too big to worry about, but some down time would be nice

After this happens a couple more times, Nico remembers something Hades had told him about his male children

Nico quickly figures out what's happening after that, but is reluctant to tell Will just yet

He's not sure what will happen if he tries to ignore it, or if he can ignore it, but he'll try untill he can't anymore

He visits Hades to ask a few questions about the gene and, failing that endeavor, if he could stay in the underworld full time

Hades answers the questions as best he can, but when Nico asks if he could stay with him & Persephone he's surprised

"You'd need to be dead."

"I know that."

"Wouldn't Will miss you? And you him?"

"Of course. But I know I'd see him again eventually, and so would he."

After dinner, Hades brings up the situation with Persephone. She's ok with it

Nico heads back to camp and collapses onto his bed

Before breakfast he tells Will they need to talk about something later, when he sees the sadness on Will's face he assures him that he's not breaking up with him, but it is big

A couple hours later, when Will's on break & Nico's not practicing, they talk

Well, at first Nico talks while Will listens

About the nagging that's become a group of voices, about the talk with Hades, about the rough outline of a plan to make sure no one gets hurt, about everything and what it would mean for their relationship

They settle on a plan, though Will doesn't like it, and continue as normal until it was time to execute said plan

Well, they spend more time together than usual (which most campers didn't think was possible); Will takes more breaks from the infirmary, Nico's seen either drawing or next to Will, both look awful apart and somehow both better and worse when together

Only a couple of weeks later, the voices become too much, almost too loud to ignore

The next capture the flag game is only a couple days away, they decide to set it into action then

They're on the same team, as always, but Nico's sent out on his own, his only orders are to make sure the other team doesn't make it past him

He encounters some monsters, which he half-heartedly fights, leading to some injuries

After a while he comes across a scorpion

He doesn't fight it, he drops his sword and he lets it kill him, all while calling for help

Someone gets there at the last second, the poison already too far into his system to get out

They're on the ground, Nico held up in the person's arms while laying in their lap

"Nico…" It's Will

Nico looks at him and smiles "Thank you." he whispers

Will knows the plan, but seeing Nico covered in blood and dying in his arms makes everything hurt, he knew it would

He also knows Nico's too far gone to try and heal now

Nico keeps smiling up at Will, tears welling in both of their eyes, but for different reasons

Nico cries tears of joy & relief, he'll never hurt anyone because of some gene that made him go insane, he'll get to watch over Will until he eventually joins him, he'll be able to see Jason again, he'll be content.

Will cries tears of sadness & anger, he can't believe he let Nico go on a literal suicide mission, he doesn't want Nico to go, he can't loose him, but he can't heal him, he promised not to save him, he'd have to wait years to see him again, and even then, who knows what will happen.

"I love you." Will says, trying to choke back a sob

"I love you, too." Nico says, smile widening

"Goodbye."

"No. This isn't goodbye, Solace. I'll see you later."

Nico's body goes slack, his eyes become glassy, his breathing stops

Will lets out a sob, the flood gates open, he hugs Nico's body close as he cries into his hair

He doesn't know how long he stays there, frozen

He carries Nico's body to the border line and walks back camp, tears rolling down his cheeks

The game's over, they camp's been looking for them, someone spots Will walking back to camp and alerts everyone else

They find Will making a funeral shrowd in the Hades cabin, tears still messing with his vision, Nico laying deathly still on the bed

When asked what happened Will's answer is vague, but it's enough

"A scorpion surprised him, I didn't get there fast enough."

Chiron IMs Percy & Annabeth, letting them know what happened

They've lost people before, sure, but Nico was like a little brother to both of them

They tell Chiron that they'll be there as soon as they can, with Frank and Hazel as well

Apollo hears about what happened, though no one's sure how, and insists on helping Will organize everything

The funeral is held as soon as everyone arrives

Everyone assumes that Hades would make an appearance, then Hazel, Will, Percy, and Apollo point out that he'd be welcoming Nico in the underworld, not mourning him with them

While the funeral is being held, Nico is officially welcomed into the underworld

Nico, Hades, Persephone, and Bob have a small party

They all live fairly happily in Hades' palace, including the time Persephone has to spend with her mother. They have company, so it's not as bad as it has been

#solangleo #solangelo bullet fic #pjo #pjo fanfic #hoo #toa

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frecklystars · 23 days

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I don’t know how to phrase how I’m feeling but I need to vent rly badly 😭 sorry I’ll delete this later

Dude I’ve been bad the last few days like rly fucking bad. I am so unbearably lonely even though I’m talking to people and hanging out with friends at least once a week.

My suicidal thoughts have been getting worse. I didn’t have them for a couple of months but now it’s like the last four days it’s been nonstop. I’m self harming again and every time I do it I just keep thinking of how disappointed my f/os would be in me. Especially Ken. Which is stupid bc I know he isn’t real but I just keep thinking like… my whole life nobody has physically been here to hold me when I’m hurting and I feel like Ken especially who has never seen human blood before in his life would suddenly be scared of me or just. hate me altogether. Or colt. God the movie isn’t even out and I can’t look at colt without immediately feeling such a horrible ache in my chest like there is no way he’d love me and tolerate how sad I get

I have cried seven times at work in the last four hours today, what the fuck. I just feel like I’m not even a person, like… the world is full of people who are living and breathing but I feel like a shell. I am so miserable and lonely and I don’t know how to fix that. And I’ll tell my family that I’m like, starting to plan how I’d off myself and they’re like :) oh well whatever. And I’m like oh ok. My dad isn’t even home anymore he’s in Vegas and he’s only home maybe 10 days out of 365 days this year. I’ll tell him how bad I’m doing and he just. does not register or he does not care. it is just me alone in this empty house with my dog

And I’m so tired of being the only one initiating hangouts with my friends but if I stop initiating hangouts then ppl are gonna not hang out with me. y’know. Like I am immediately forgotten or brushed aside. My friends do not think about me the way I think about them, and like! I get it! That’s ok!! That’s how life goes. I am not remarkable and that’s ok! I am not built to be a remarkable person I have always spent my entire life completely alone and that’s. ok . but it has been hurting really bad like way worse than usual lately. I remember being five years old and telling myself “something is wrong with me because my parents don’t hug me the way other kids parents hug them” and like ots just been constant for years and years. There is something wrong with me for my parents to not interact with their child even once in their life and there is something wrong with me where every person I interact with only wants me around bc I can draw them something or, back when I made more money, I would pay for us to go out to eat every week. But like the second I can’t draw or don’t have money it’s like I do not exist

and I don’t know how to fix my brain to be okay with this again. I am always crying or hurting myself and I can’t even function at work today. I don’t want to sit here and mourn a family I will never have. I don’t want to sit here and tell myself I wish I had friends to come over and watch movies with bc like… that’s just making me sad. I don’t want to sit here and ache anymore but I’ve been self harming and crying every night now and I don’t know how to fix myself

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asteriismos · 4 years

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Next Door Neighbor -- Bill Denbrough

Authors Note : y’all know I love bill ;)) he’s my fav and that won't change. this also randomly turned into kinda fluffy smut but oops

Warning(s) : eighteen! losers club, masturbation, fluffy smut, a little OOC for bill, yet another reason I'm going to hell

Request :

Ik you just wrote two Bill smuts, but imagine being neighbors and best friends with bill and your bedroom windows are right next to each other. and then he watches you masterbate and the next day he’s acting all weird bc he didn’t know you do things like that and he’s never thought of you in that way. and when you ask him why he’s acting so weird he just snaps and is like "you should really close your window" or something like that bc 🥵

“I’m just saying, she’s not that bad if you look at her from the side,” Richie Tozier said to Bill over the walkie talkie line. It was getting late, around 10 pm, and Richie had been on the walkie with Bill for an hour. Talking on walkie talkies was a little childish, but that was all of the losers favorite way of getting a hold of each other.

Bill laughed to himself, pulling out the chair to his desk and sitting down. “I’m going to pretend you’re not talking about Stan’s mom and politely ask you to change the subject.”

There was laughing on the other line, “Fine, Bill. Let’s see . . . Oh! How’s Y/N? She come back from her spring break trip yet?”

Much to the losers dismay, you had gone on a spring break trip with your family all the way down to Florida. You were gone for the entire week and a half, not being able to even call them on the phone or the walkie. Apparently it was a ‘no technology’ vacation for your entire family, so none of your friends could even call you to see how you were doing.

It also sucked for Bill, because he didn’t have anyone to talk to when he was up late drawing or writing.

You had lived next to Bill for what felt like forever, your bedroom windows facing each other. Bill had put his desk to face that window so he could sit down as he spoke to you, who put your bed next to the window in your room to do the same. It was kinda depressing seeing you not there every day, your lights off and door open to your empty house.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t checked to see if she came home yet,” Bill answered. He went to push back his curtains and open his window to see that your family was home. Your room was lit up and an open suitcase was laying on top of your bed, clothes strewn around the room. Your window was open wide just like his, but you weren't there to say hi. “Oh yeah, she’s home. But not in her room, she must’ve gone to take a shower or something.”

“Damn, you’re so lucky that you have a window that looks into a girls room,” Richie said. Bill scoffed, of course Richie would think that.

“Actually, I don’t go looking into her room every second I get, so maybe she’s the lucky one. She could’ve gotten you as a neighbor,” Bill said, grabbing a pencil and reverting his attention to the paper that he was supposed to finish up over the break. He had left it to the last minute, like he was sure a majority of his class did as well.

“You know I’m just joking . . .” Richie trailed off. “But you’re telling me you’ve never even peeked? Not once?”

Bill bit his lip. He really hadn’t. He respected your privacy, and didn’t want to get caught doing something like that and labeled as some kind of pervert by you. He didn’t want to make you feel creeped out or upset at him, so he just didn’t. Has he been interested before to just take one little peek? Yes, but he never acted upon it.

“Nope, not once Rich,” Bill answered. “Isn’t it time for you to have your late night talk with Eds anyways?”

“Shit, you’re right. He’s going to think I just left him on his open line. Thanks Bill, and goodnight.” Bill muttered a small ‘mhm’ and left Richie’s line.

For the next ten minutes, Bill bullshitted his way through the closure of the essay, looking up once he heard a door open. His first instinct was to look at his own door, but it seemed to be coming from your door in your own room. You walked in, covered by only a towel. Your wet hair stuck to your shoulders, which had gotten considerably tan since he last saw you.

Bill was quick to do what he always did, shut his curtains so that you could have some privacy while changing in your room. He usually kept them closed for a good half an hour so he knew that you were finally done changing. And once his curtains were closed, he heard your towel drop to the floor.

The words Richie said to him were beginning to ring in his head. Especially the ones about just peeking.

No, that would be stupid. He couldn’t do that to you, especially considering the very definite possibility that you would catch him. You’d get so mad, and Bill didn’t want that.

Well . . . It wouldn’t hurt if he just looked for a split second, right? It would be fine, you were probably already done changing and he could then strike up a conversation with you and pretend that he didn’t just try to be a peeping tom.

Channelling his inner ‘Richie’ or whatever you wanted to call it, Bill opened his curtain just a tiny bit, enough to see into your room with one eye. At first he didn’t see you, maybe you had gone downstairs.

But then he heard moaning.

Oh fuck.

Bill then saw you, real clear. You were laying on your bed, hand in between your thighs and moaning quietly. Your door was closed and you had surprisingly left your window open. Bill couldn’t believe what he was seeing and he was about to shut the curtain and forget this had happened completely, that was until he heard his name come from your lips. It was quiet, but it was definitely his name. You were imagining him. That his fingers were inside you and not your own.

To say that his pants tightened would be an understatement.

Bill couldn’t believe that you thought about him in that way. Sure, he had thought about that type of stuff before, and thought about the possibility of him having sex with you. But that was all just stupid stuff that his friends fed to him, that you liked him. That you would look at him with longing in the hallways at school and in the science class you had together. You always acted like you didn’t when you hung out with the entire group, but looking at the position you were in right now, it looked like that was all an act.

Maybe he should do something about that.

~ the next morning ~

It was the last day of spring break before you went back to school for the remainder of your last high school year and you were looking forward to spending it with your best friends. You hadn’t seen them all break since you left to vacation in Florida, and you were dying to speak to them and hang out with them again.

You wanted to talk to Bill last night, but he seemed to have gone to bed early, since you called him on the walkie and he didn’t pick up. Which was strange, Bill was always the one to go to sleep in the early hours of the morning - especially during breaks from school.

Oh well, you’d see him today anyways.

Your parents had gone out a few minutes ago for the day. They needed to get some things done on Main Street and also go shopping since you all cleaned out your fridge before going on vacation. That was fine with you, considering you didn’t plan on being home at all today.

You walked outside of your house and looked around the street, breathing in the fresh air of Derry that you had surprisingly missed while you were away. Florida was pretty, but it didn't matter, Derry would always be in your heart. It was sad to think that soon enough you would be leaving this small town for college very soon, all of your friends would leave and go their separate ways.

Your vision turned to Bill’s front porch where he sat, reading some kind of book. You chuckled to yourself. Typical Bill, head in a book unless you or one of the losers pulled him out of it.

“Hey, Bill! Long time no see,” You yelled to him, making your way towards him and stopping at his steps onto the porch. He looked up and closed his book, shoulders obviously tensing up about something. He seemed to be thinking about something pretty important, especially since once he made eye contact with you his eyes widened. “Is something wrong?” You asked.

“No! I just didn't see you come up that’s all,” Bill replied, standing up to face you.

You laughed, “Okay, well, I actually was going to wait until I was with everyone, but Eds said that he needed a few extra minutes so I guess I can give you your gift now.”

Bill cleared his throat, “You got me a gift?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember asking for some shells? I swear you were the first one to ask.”

Bill breathed out, seemingly remembering that conversation he had with you after break. You squinted your eyes at him as he nodded his head. “Okay,” you said, a little weirded out by his behavior. Bill was never the one to forget, there must be something distracting him. “They’re in my room, c’mon.”

A few minutes later, Bill was standing in your room as you looked through your suitcase. You still had yet to finish unpacking, so everything was still all jumbled around in the rather large suitcase. You passed some shirts and threw some pants out, finally finding the bag that you had collected seashells in. You had spent an entire day looking for them for your friends, making sure that they were the coolest ones that you could find.

“Here,” You said, pulling out the bag and turning to face him. Bill was looking out your window, the same one that looked into his room.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he acting so goddamn weird?

“Bill, are you sure nothing’s wrong? Because your acting like I killed your cat,” You said, setting down the bag of seashells on your desk and putting your hands on your hips. “What is wrong with you today?”

“You should really close your window.”

It was a mumble, a whisper. You weren't even sure if you heard him correctly.

“What did you say?” You asked him.

“I said, Y/N, that you should really close your goddamn window.”

In a few short seconds, Bill walked over to you and put his hands on your cheeks, grabbing you and pulling you into a kiss. It shocked you, but you felt yourself melt into it. What did he mean about closing you window? You were sure that you had - oh shit.

You had forgotten to close your window last night. When you got out of the shower, when you were touching yourself.

He pushed you to walk towards your bed, falling on top of you when the back of your legs hit the bed and sent you flying backwards on top of it. Your hands lazily ran through his hair, earning a slight groan on his end. It was soft, way better than you imagined it to be.

Because you’d imagined it more times than you were willing to admit. That hadn’t been the first time you touched yourself thinking about your next door neighbor Bill Denbrough.

Your best friend, Bill Denbrough.

“Wait, Bill wait,” you said, pulling away from his lips and moving your hands to cup his cheeks. “You’re my best friend. I mean, we practically grew up together.” His eyes looked straight into yours, his flushed cheeks tightening as he grinned, “Well, the other losers are your best friends as well. Do you masterbate thinking about them too? Do I need to be jealous of Eddie, or maybe Stan?” You rolled your eyes, laughing and hitting him playfully.

“No. Just you, stupid,” You answered, your own cheeks reddening at the fact that he caught you doing such a thing. You had been careless last night.

“Well then, maybe I can be more than a best friend then,” Bill stated, his lips attaching themselves to your neck, sucking lightly on the exposed skin. You gasped at the contact, your hands once again running through his hair and pulling at it.

“What I’m trying to say, Bill, is that you’re my best friend and you don’t have to do anything,” You replied. “You don’t have to do anything just because I want to.”

“Y/N, let’s just say that you’re not the only one that’s touched themselves thinking about the person with the window next to theirs,” Bill said against your skin, his hands reaching under your shirt. His hands palmed at your breasts. “I want this just as badly as you do.”

And with that, you stopped talking and allowed him to pull off your shirt, exposing your tanned skin and white laced bra. He did the same with his shirt, pulling it off and once again allowing his hands to go to your chest.

Your lips went to his shoulder, peppering kisses along his skin, admiring the slight freckles that were there. His touches were soft, meticulously made, like he didn't want to hurt you for any reason. You internally swooned at the kindness he showed you, the love that you felt within his touch. Both of you had never seen each other in this context before, and it was a little confusing at first to think that the boy you grew up with was now in your bed.

His left hand went from your chest and snaked down to the waistband of your pants and slipping past it when you tugged on his hair to continue. It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside you, watching as your face twisted from admiration to lust, all from the pleasure that he was giving you. He took in every soft noise that you made, his lips coming and kissing yours once again as he slipped another finger in. His pace was beginning to pick up as well, and you couldn’t believe how much easier it felt to get to the brink of your climax when it was Bill’s hand instead of yours.

The pit began to form in your stomach, the one that you always felt happen with yourself in over three minutes, but this time with Bill it had barely been two minutes and you already felt like you needed to release.

Realizing this, he pulled his fingers out, licking them clean and then pulling his pants and boxers off, doing the same with your pants and underwear.

“I want it to happen when I’m inside you, princess,” he whispered, sparing no time to push into you. You gasped at the sudden pain you felt, tears threatening to slip from your eyes and he wasn't even moving yet. Could you even take him? He wasn't all the way in yet, and you were already feeling pain like no other.

After a few moments, the pain began to feel tolerable, it even felt a little good.

“You can move,” you said to him, nodding and putting your hands on his shoulders. It felt as if your hands were made to be placed there, they fit so nicely on his body.

Bill began to move and it still hurt like a bitch, his hand went down and played with your clit, alleviating some of the pain and replacing it with pleasure. The shockwave of pleasure you were experiencing caused you to moan out, his own groans and noises starting to match yours.

Your high was coming, fast. The more Bill played with your cit and the deeper he went made you spiral higher and higher.

“Fuck babe, you’re so tight. You feel so good,” Bill said, kissing you once again.

That’s when your orgasm hit, and you hit it hard. You moaned into his mouth, your hands squeezing his shoulders as you rode it out. You began to move your hips with his, causing him to go deeper than he had ever gone before. That’s when he came, moaning out your name.

He rolled off of you and laid there next to you, muttering words of praise while you both laid there. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“Well, Denbrough, if that’s what is going to happen every time I keep my window open, then I may never just close it ever again.”

Tagging List :

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#bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough imagine #bill denbrough smut #smut #stanley uris #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #it #IT movie #it movie 2019 #it movie 2017 #it movie imagine #it movie x reader

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thebooki3h · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter x Draco Idea

It’s years after the war. Harry is the DADA professor at Hogwarts. both to teach students because he loves it and to help students in ways that adults could not help him. He is head of the DADA club as well as the Wizarding world 101 club for those who grew up with muggles so they can better acclimate to the wizarding world. Hermione helped him set up that last one)

the DADA club is pretty self explanatory. harry teaches defense spells and those spells rank by skill not by year. he also teaches hand to hand defense because one day you many not have magic. (he emphasizes this part for the girls. he's been to the clubs and he hates how girls can be treated) he also emphasizes prevention. he talks about how to prevent another dark lord.

some days they don’t even practice defense they just talk about what bother them. those days can be sad. but their nice. ( that reminds him he should talk to Hermione about setting up mental health clinics muggles have those and his therapist has been very helpful)

Harry and ginny broke up shortly after the war because as much as they loved each other, they just weren’t right for one another.

Ginny becomes a famous quidditch player

Hermione becomes a Wizard lawyer. so she can put laws in place that would help prevent another dark lord from rising

she also has plans to tackle the treatment of magical creatures. (Dobby and lupin haunt her and visit her nightmares often) but there's only so much that one can do in a year and she does not want to repeat 3 year

She pushes for laws that protect children so no one has to go through what tom riddle or harry went through

she also moves for primary school for wizarding children so they get to socialize with others and learn about the muggle world and their science.

Hermione becomes minister of magic and incorporates muggle ideas like foster care and child protective services into the wizarding world because after she saw how Harry she could never in good conscious let other children go through that

Ron started auror training and became an auror for a few years because it is what helped him cope with Freds death. But after all of the death eaters were given trials and sentenced, he retired from the force and partnered with George to help expand the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.

He even opens up a partner store in the muggle world. (getting their toys and pranks to work without magic was tough but it really helped bond them together.) It’s what Fred would have wanted anyway.

and ron and Hermione are still together because the war made them closer and when they were apart 7th year it was awful, but they don't get married no matter how much Molly wants them to. they’re in their 20s and they still have time

Luna is a well respect reporter. The Quibbler is now the Wizarding worlds most trusted news source. (especially after Rita skeeter was arrested for defamation of character) (something Hermione presided over with pride)

she is also the only reporter that any of the students at Hogwarts in Harrys year will speak to. Most other student who attended the school while harry was there (especially after seeing what happened to him during 4th year) will only speak to her anyway. but it is not as hard a rule especially if they didn't really interact with harry.

Harry formally adopted Teddy when he was 6 years old. Teddy had been living with harry since he was 1 and a half because Andromeda couldn’t take care of him anymore. but he wanted Teddy to give him permission first.

Harry makes sure to tell Teddy all about his birth parents and about how much they loved him and about how much Harry love them.

the day Teddy called harry dad. harry most definitely did not cry in for an hour after teddy left for primary school

Teddy lives with harry in the castle during the school year. ( because where else would he live. all of the other professors lie in the castle. and harry may or may not be very paranoid about something happening to teddy, but that is something he talks about with his mind healer and not you so shut up)

Draco goes to school to become a potions master so he can work at St mungos and help people.

he still feels guilty about the war and about how he treated others during his Hogwarts years. he quickly learns that no one wants to be healed by him. he looks like his father more and more every year.

he hates that he has done all of those awful things. but he is making up for them! it takes the public awhile to see it but the glares aren’t as bad anymore.

but his fathers actions haunt him. and he wants to separate himself from his father as much as possible. so he does the unthinkable and dies his hair.

at first he uses spells but he finds the muggle way soothing.

he eventually gets a job at Hogwarts when he is 24 as the potions master. (bc let’s be honest Slughorn was a temporary solution at best he was NOT supposed to be at Hogwarts this long)

it is at this point where he meets teddy. Teddy roams the halls and visits classes from time to time. so long as he does not disturb any of the teachers that is

he gets excited when he sees a teacher with bright purple hair. (he thinks he found another Metamorphmagus. so he follows them to their classroom. he’s never seen them before and he wants to get to know them)

Draco is shocked to see a small child in his class, but he was warned about teddy so he kept his infamous Malfoy mask on to hide his surprise

teddy is obviously disappointed that Draco isn’t a Metamorphmagus like him, but he asks Draco all about his hair and how he got it like that. Teddy’s hair may or may not match dracos for the next week, but he’ll deny it if you ask him.

teddy sits through all of dracos classes for that week as well. he does is school work and tries not to disrupt. (mcgonagall was very helpful in teaching teddy proper manners (so he didn’t take after his uncles George and Ron) so he knows when to be on his best behavior. )

uncles George and Ron may or may not send him Weasleys wizard wheezes every month. His uncle George also taught him how to pull off a prank and not get caught (especially by auntie Minnie)

even though auntie Minnie taught him manners sometimes he’ll get really excited and pull a Hermione and ask raise his hand to as a bunch of questions (because he is not old enough to do anything practical yet)

Draco answers all of teddy’s questions. (they are surprisingly good for an 8 year old so of course he does) he even mentions that his students could take a page out of Teddys book. (he hopes they don’t ask questions because that is not always encouraged, not because they are afraid of him)

the students had heard rumors about Draco from their parents, so they were a little afraid of him. they though that he would be like professor Snape. instead he is more like mcgonagall. he expects that his students respect that magic can be dangerous and that he is there to help. but he is also firmly kind. he never yells, only scolds. (and that is only when you do something that could have hurt someone)

harry hears a rumor that the new potions teacher is, as his 6th year students put it, H O T. he knows that it is someone from his years at Hogwarts, but he wasn’t really paying attention all that much. (he likes to get as much time with his son as possible)

speaking of his son, he hasn’t seen him in his class as normal. Teddy is usually in their rooms, in his classroom or with Minnie. (mcgonagall insists that he call her that. yes, it is very weird) teddy isn’t allowed in the greenhouses with Neville anymore after than sneezing incident.

So during one of his free periods ( that are usually reserved for helping teddy with math bc Hermione insists because “math is very important Harry!”) he takes out the marauders map and looks for his son. (completely missing Draco’s name because duh)

he finally finds him in the dungeons and he spots the new potions master teaching about sleeping draught and its properties to 3rd years. he is mesmerize by the (now midnight blue) hair. he doesn’t immediately recognize Malfoy bc the blonde hair is gone.

he just sits next to teddy (who is attempting to take notes like the other students, but is really just drawing stick figures with potions and random ingredients written down)

once the class files out teddy goes to introduce his dad to his new favorite professor (sorry aunt Minnie). once they realize who the other one is it’s kind of awkward bc they haven’t seen each other since harry spoke for him and his mother to exonerate them and give Draco back his wand.

but they bond over teddy and how well teddy seems to do in dracos class (even though he is 8) and thus began the weekly visits and lunches.

eventually teddy has to stop going to dracos class because they have begun brewing potions, and we don't want a repeat of what happened in the greenhouses. this really bummed teddy out so he insisted that they eat lunch together.

harry and Draco find themselves still eating lunch together, even when teddy has gone to nana molly’s house for the week to visit his cousins.

they already talked to each other in the halls once they had reconnected, but after that lunch without teddy they start having dinner in each others rooms instead

harry introduces Draco to something he calls movies and Draco talks about all of the wizarding pop culture harry never seems to understand

soon these nightly hangouts happen more than once a week. it has gotten to the point where Draco and harry have fallen asleep on Harrys couch in his living room on more than one occasion.

most of these hangout happen in Harrys rooms bc he is still a little paranoid

then right around Christmas time Hermione asks harry to speak at a fundraiser for something or another and it is last minute because the other speaker had to cancel “ I know it’s last minute harry, but you know I wouldn’t ask if I had another choice”

Harry doesn’t want to ask Molly because she has so much to do to prep for Christmas and he doesn’t want to be a burden, so would Draco pretty please watch teddy for the night. Harry will be home really late and he is so sorry that this is last minute and of course you can’t watch him and I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked

and Draco loves teddy so of course he’ll watch him! it will be like a sleep over won’t it teddy.

draco is shocked that harry would trust him with teddy for the night because of his past and he is freaking out inside but its fine and he is not going to mess this up he is not going to mess this up.

and harry goes and he os not as worried as he thinks he is but he is still worried bc parenthood y’know and he really doesn’t like going to these things because he is so over being the boy who lived twice and he just wants to go home a snuggle with draco and talk about movies while teddy is showing them how he can change his eye color now

and then it hits him that he included draco in the scenario and how long has he been doing that for. and then he finds out that he really doesn’t mind that and how long has he thought about draco being in his life and should he ask draco out he most definitely should ask him out

and draco going through the same thing but with working about teddy and knowing that harry really hates going to those galas and how he did too when he was a child and how much better it would be if they had gone together him harry and teddy

harry proceeds to panic about this new revelation to Hermione because she is always so easy to talk to and she always knows what to do and Ron isn’t there because he hates those galas almost as much as harry

Hermione proceeds to tell harry to just ask him out already you already trust him with teddy and you talk about him all the time in your letters and even Ron has noticed and he avoids talking about feelings as much as he can

so harry decides he is going to ask draco out

(draco is already invited to weasley Christmas and has a sweater already made bc mama weasley don't mess around)

the next day when harry goes to pick teddy up he doesn’t know what to say and neither does draco and then they blurt it out at the same time and start rambling (Bc that’s always cute) and then they get really quiet

and then teddy says finally bc he made a bet with his uncle George (bc uncle George always helps him with new pranks and he is so awesome and easy to talk to) and a couple other students about when harry and draco are going to ask each other out on a date

(and he doesn’t really know what that means but auntie Minnie says its when you want to hold hands and you love each other very much but not like brothers but like best friends but more. he tried to get her to explain but she said that was his dad’s job)

and draco and harry are both shocked bc teddy knew? and if it’s ok with teddy then why not give it a go.

then Christmas passes with everyone getting a new sweater (draco should really re-introduce his mum and Molly because they would get on like a house on fire with how much they love their kids and his mum could use a friend)

and the school year finishes with harry and draco becoming known as the cute professors how visit each others classes with gifts and hold hands when they think no one is looking

and draco spends most of his summer at 12 Grimmauld place ( harry spent the better part of a month renovating that house so it would be more modern and safe for teddy)

he also removed a lot of the dark artifacts and placed them in a vault at gringotts so he can study them later. the ones he deemed to be containable and somewhat mild he took for his upper year classes so they would know how to deal with those artifacts

and draco is basically moved into harry’s rooms by the end of the summer and he doesn’t notice until the school year comes around again and he has to pack and he finds that his flat in muggle London (yes he moved there. Hermione recommended it after the trials and he is so grateful to her because that really helped him break down all that he had been taught by his father)

but draco waits to see if harry says anything and harry does but harry takes to long so he says something, but its not the question he was expecting. he was expecting more of a well aren’t you moved in already sort of response when all harry said was you are welcome to be here and I love that you are here I just didn’t want to push you and I know you like having your own space

and draco is confused, but harry explains that their relationship is still new and he didn’t want to push anything unnaturally so he let draco set the pace because he loves him and he figured there was no harm in draco still having his flat because if he needed time it made sense

this whole conversation led to one about communication about needs and boundaries because harry has trouble with that still from the Dursley's and from the war and draco has trouble with feelings bc of his father and this whole thing just makes them stronger

they make the move in official but draco keeps the flat because it is still nice to stay in muggle London and harry doesn’t disagree.

and they also agree that draco should keep his rooms at Hogwarts just so that the students don’t get distracted by the professors living together even if they are together and boy is it nice to say that

also that way if draco needs to work on things for his potions class they can still keep teddy safe

and teddy still calls harry dad because harry raised him but he calls draco dray like his father does and that feels just as good as dad to draco. he doesn't expect anything like that from teddy because he became a father figure to him so late in his life and dray makes him feel so loved in a way he has never felt before

and their relationship only gets stronger as the years pass and eventually they do get married (it’s the summer after teddy’s 1st year and he couldn’t be happier)

teddy moving out of harry’s rooms and into the Hufflepuff tower was a weird transition for all of them, but it was comforting to know that he could go talk to his dads whenever he wants

and he thinks of draco as his dad at this point but calling him anything other than dray would be weird and dray feels as good as calling harry dad so why change it

that year draco moved into Harrys rooms permanently and left his other rooms for good. (the happy couple still go there sometimes since it is attached to dracos office and they get up to shenanigans there bc teddy doesn’t ever go into those rooms like he does with the ones he grew up in)

and in teddy’s first year everyone is like wow those are your dads? and he is like yea they’re cool and they were in the war but I have seen them dancing with a mop and a dustpan and they’re really not that cool you guys

and once teddy starts making his way up through Hogwarts the war seems so far away and the students come in with the stories they’ve heard from their parents about the great Harry Potter and dastardly Draco Malfoy and then like a 2 weeks into term they’re like these dudes are total nerds and super in love with each other and its adorable

then the Weasley kids start filtering through Hogwarts and harry and draco are in their 30s. teddy wanted to go to muggle university (which he can totally get into because Hermione is a real one lemme tell you)

also you’re gonna tell me she DIDN’T teach teddy all of the muggle curriculum he would need to know to get into college bc let’s be real Hogwarts wasn’t a challenge bc he’d been there his whole life so he def graduated early and still lived there with harry and draco while Hermione got him muggle books

also in their free time harry Hermione and draco definitely figured out how to get wifi in Hogwarts ( how would they live without their rom coms) in like a weekend

and George became the new charms teacher after flitwick retired and the students love him and his satires of pranks with his brothers

and in his spare time he still comes up with jokes for the joke shop and he even lets his students submit their attempts for items for the shop for extra credit (this eventually turns into an end of year assignment for each grade and former students of George love seeing their names on the tags for the toys in the joke shop)

and Ron who has a knack for business (who knew?) expands the WWW empire and he already has shops in America and he is thinking about expanding into Asia but he still needs to look into that market

but teddy goes to college and harry and draco keep living their lives and revolutionizing Hogwarts with Minnie (draco is still stunned she insisted that he call her that) they keep integrating muggle ideas, and it is easier in Hogwarts because the children are much more open to change

and now they are in their 40s and Hogwarts has a whole new branch of the school where children between the ages 5 and 10 can come in and learn about muggles and magic and math and science and why there is a giant squid in the lake

harry and draco are now a staple in Hogwarts like Dumbledore was but so much better bc they would never let kids return to abusive homes and they’re known for being so approachable and willing to help anyone with their problems

the students start calling them the dads of Hogwarts (teddy insists he didn’t start that but he totally did with George and Ron’s help)

and the name sticks and they not so secretly love it

and the war becomes a distant memory

until students start acting really strange and harry and draco think it is just them until George and Minnie and Neville come to them with concerns and they don’t know what is happening and as much as harry loves draco he knows he needs to call Hermione and Ron (Ron still will not touch a phone and if draco can use one why can’t he, but he insists)

he calls them because the last time he was this scared in Hogwarts they were there and he is a Grown Man but suddenly he feels like he just left the Dursley's again

draco calls his mother and he calls pansy and Blaise because they were there when he had to deal with his father planning and plotting and wanting Voldemort to return and they know what he felt like and he is a Grown Man but he feels as if he will never get his fathers approval even though he hasn’t needed that in years (and he doesn’t want it)

the word spread about harry calling for his best friends and draco doing the same and if they are doing that then they must be scared

(they are so very tired of being afraid and so very tired of fighting)

but the must protect their students

so Molly (even though she is not as young as when her children went to Hogwarts her grandchildren do and she’ll be damned if anything ever happens to her family) arrives too with the weasley clan as ready as ever and Seamus and dean and even Oliver Wood (who is a world renown former quidditch player and even more famous coach)

when teddy gets there for his dad and dray they are suddenly so much more worried because he is their life, but he is an adult now and he is here for them

when their former students arrive harry definitely starts to cry (draco didn’t because malfoys don’t cry in public in front of their former students even if he didn’t really believe that now it was nice to hold onto to help keep some of his composure) and their students tell them that they are here now to help, to fight and that they shouldn’t have to fight anymore but if they must

their students say that Harry and Draco did such a good job and helped the wizarding world, helped them so much, and we know professor potter that we must be kind to others because no one deserves what tom riddle went through even if Voldemort was awful.

professor potter we know that you taught us that defense should only be used in protection and we should always be mindful and we are here to protect you

and professor Malfoy you were so kind to us and you were understanding and you encouraged our questions and you taught us to be curious and to never be satisfied with something at face value. you taught us to explore and we are here

and it feels like the war again but better because they are all on the same side and what ever this is harry doesn’t have to hide under the invisibility cloak and draco doesn't have to hide in the room of requirement and this new thing? this new thing that threatens the life they have made together their family? their friends? their students? it suddenly it seems so small because with the support they have nothing can ever beat them because Dumbledore is gone Voldemort is dead and they did their best to help those kids age be damned

There is so much more that I would love to add to this, and I could but I should get back to homework, unfortunately. I just had a thought and had to write it down. I would also like to turn it into a fic but time escapes me

If for some reason someone sees this and they want to make it into an actual full blown fic, please tag me bc I would live to read it.

I might come up with a part two, who knows

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco #harry #au #hogwarts #professor #notaficbutitcouldbe #fix it fanfiction #george weasley #molly weasley #weasley #ginny #hermione granger #ron #harry x draco #teddy lupin #professor potter #professor malfoy

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slutforgoodliterature · 5 years

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Pietro Maximoff x Reader - Let Me Prove It To You

This was a request from one of you guys! I’m so excited to start doing more requests so feel free to send them in.

To the babe that requested this, this one’s for you! You know who you are ;)

Summary: Pietro and Wanda are introduced to the rest of the Avengers, and he is immediately drawn to you. You, however, believe that no one like Pietro could ever be into you... until all of a sudden he really, truly, deeply is.

Warnings: smut (slow burn), angst, dirty talk (in his accent omfggg)

Hold on to your seats guys and dolls coz it’s gonna be a doozy

AU | that Pietro didn’t die bc that shit is sad as heck, so let's pretend he survived Age of Ultron ok :))

“Listen up you lot!” Tony’s voice rang out across the common area, where he and Steve had called a team meeting.

They had just returned from a massive fight in Sokovia and brought with them not only a strange floating red man but also a set of arguably stranger twins.

You had been out of action for the last few weeks due to a couple broken ribs and so had been sent on vacation by Tony. For three weeks, you were peacefully soaking up the sun in Honolulu, Hawaii, until you saw new reports of a freaking floating city with all of your friends on it.

By the time you had flown back into New York, it was over and dealt with, but you were left feeling useless and unneeded.

“Earth to Y/N,” Steve called, bringing you back to the present, and you went red, even though he was sending you a reassuring smile and there was no real heat behind his words. The whole team knew how you were feeling and tried to comfort you, but there wasn’t much they could say to cheer you up.

You looked towards the front of the room and were instantly drowning in a pair of cerulean blue eyes that locked onto yours. You froze in place, unable to tear your eyes away.

The young man who owned those eyes was just as gorgeous. White blonde hair that fell over his forehead, arched brows, a strong jaw, full lips, wide shoulders, narrow hips and-

Wait, are those New Balances?

You ignored the odd choice of runners and looked back up at this mysterious newcomer’s eyes and were shocked to find he had just down the same sweep of your body as you did to his. His lips curled up in a small grin and he once again caught your gaze, boring into your soul with his piercing eyes.

“Team, most of you know Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, for those who don’t, this is them.” Tony pointed unceremoniously to the twins and was met with silence. “Cool, good chat.” He sent everyone a thumbs up before briskly leaving the room, probably to find Pepper.

“He sure has a way with words.” The guy, Pietro, said and his accent caught you unawares. It was rich and silky, like honey in your eyes, and you swear you would have melted into a puddle on the floor if it wasn’t for the kitchen counter you were currently sitting on.

He shared a smile with his sister before she edged over to the floating red dude. Speaking of...

“Is no one going to introduce floating red guy?” You blurted out, not addressing anyone in particular but finding the entire teams' heads whip your way.

“Oh right, yes of course, sorry-” Steve began, but floating red guy cut him off with a calm hand raised and landed back on the floor before walking over to you.

“Allow me, my name is Vision. You are Y/N.” He said simply, holding out a flat palm. You regarded it, completely bewildered as to what you were supposed to do, give him a high five?

“Um, nice to meet you...” You said and placed your palm on top of his, thinking it was maybe a custom of his, but when his palm began to rise and fall, you were even more at a loss.

“Are you trying to shake her hand?” A sudden voice from over your shoulder made you jump. Somehow, Pietro had moved silently behind you and was watching the strange exchange between you and Vision, his eyebrows furrowed in amusement.

“Yes. Is that not a common human custom?” Poor Vision said, making Pietro laugh and shake his head.

“It is, it’s just not whatever you were doing.” He chuckled, stepping in front of you and grasping your hand firmly in his. He began to shake it, but you couldn’t focus on anything except his warm hand in yours. “This is how you shake a hand, Vis.” He stated, continuing to still pump your hands.

You looked up and saw him looking straight at you once more and you quickly pulled a reign in on your emotions.

Cut it out, a guy like him would never be into you.

You withdrew your hand abruptly, ending your contact, and thought you noticed a small look of hurt cross Pietro’s face, but of course, there wasn’t one.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Without another word, you turned around and left the room, unable to stand another second with the boy with the brilliant blue eyes and killer watt smile.

As the weeks passed, you tried to ignore Pietro, but it proved to be a near-impossible task.

He always found a way to be around you. Whether it was matching his training schedule to yours, or eating at the same time as you each morning and night, he was always there.

Slowly but surely, you could feel the inklings of a crush begin to form until they became so strong you were scared you’d accidentally blurt it out in front of him. He wasn’t exactly helping the situation either; he always sat a bit too close on chairs, his hugs lingered for a couple of seconds too long, an innocuous-seeming wink or a squeeze of his hands on your as you traded gym equipment or passed the salt.

You tried to keep your distance. You kept your conversations brief and answers blunt to the point it became borderline rude. You felt bad, but you needed to keep that layer of animosity there, lest you and your stupid emotions accidentally cross a line.

One day, just over a month since he and his sister arrived, he cornered you in the training room.

“Can I ask you a question?” He began abruptly. You regarded him through between your legs as you were bent over trying to stretch them. You realised the current view he had and flushed, straightening up before answering a curt “If you must,” all the while ignoring his eyes.

“Do you hate me?” He asked in such a simple manner it had you sputtering.

“What? No, of course not.” You shook your head, still avoiding eye contact, even though you could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You pretended to be studying the weights intensely, hoping that he would give up and leave you alone.

I far from hate you...

“Then why are you such a... bitch... to me?” He struggled to find the right word, but when he did, it shocked you. Your jaw dropped, as did the weight in your hand. It was heading straight for your toes but before it could crush them, he had raced over to you and stopped it in its tracks.

In a blink, he was leaning on the weights rack next to you, toying with the dumbbell in his hands with ease.

“I am not a bitch.” You clarified, feeling your face slowly redden and heat up.

So much for thinking he didn’t notice or care.

“Yes, you are. At least, to me you are.” He argued and he still had a cheeky smile plastered on his face, but you could see real hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“I...I don’t know what you mean.” You mumbled, turning away from him but he caught your wrist. You glanced at him over your shoulder through lowered lashes.

“Y/N, please. You can drop the act. I don’t know why you do it, but I know it’s not you.” His hand slowly slipped into yours as he stepped towards you, his fingers intertwining with your own.

“Stop it.” You whispered, silently willing your legs to move but they wouldn’t. He held you prisoner in his gaze. Your heart was nearly beating through your chest, so loud you were certain he could hear it.

“Tell me why.” He pleaded, his head dipping closer to yours and your eyes dropped to his lips, which were mere inches away.

“I...” you began but your tongue became dry and your throat began to close. His proximity was driving you crazy, but although he was so close, he was still so far away. “I can't...”

No one like him could ever like someone like you.

“That’s a shame because...” He let out a deep sigh and his other hand lifted to cup your face. “...because I like you. A lot.” His confession made you blanch.

“Don’t say that.” You whipped your head away from his hand and pulled your other hand out of his grip. You were unable to look at him and his blue eyes for fear you would see the insincerity you were sure was there.

“Y/N-” He reached out to you.

“No.” You shook your head and began to back away from him. ‘You don’t mean it. Don’t say that.”

“I don't mean it?” His tone was laced with anger and frustration as he repeated what you said, making you flinch. “I don’t mean it?!” In a flash, he was directly in front of you again, towering over you.

“Pietro, you...you can’t.” You whispered, your voice beginning to shake no matter how hard you tried to hide your emotions. “You can’t like me. You couldn’t.”

He gripped your chin and lifted your head so you could see his face and his narrowed eyes.

“Who are you to tell me what I mean?” He breathed. “Who I can and can’t like? You don’t get to decide that. That’s my decision and mine alone.”

He stepped closer to you and rested a hand on your waist, making you draw in a shaky breath.

“Now, if you don’t like me back, that’s fine. I’ll stay away from you.” His voice shook as he announced that, but he steeled himself. “But don’t run from this because it scares you. It scares me too.” He rested his forehead against yours, stealing your breath away.

“But you thinking I couldn’t love you... that scares me more.”

Your eyes widened as you realised he was serious. Your heart began to rejoice and do flips in your chest. You were silent, at a loss for words as he studied your face.

He took your silence as a refusal and his eyelids fell shut as his lips pulled into a grimace.

“Ok, I’ll leave. I’m sorry-” He was cut off by you grabbing his face and kissing him.

Hard.

He froze, and for a second you were scared he was going to take it all back and yell ‘fooled you!’ but he didn’t. He came to life under your hands and circled your waist in his arms, pulling you impossibly close.

You were broken apart by his uncontainable grin, which you couldn’t help but return.

“That went better than expected.” He breathed a laugh, keeping his forehead pressed against yours.

“What did you expect?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side.

“Honestly? A slap.” He chuckled and you blushed once again.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a...” you thought about how best to describe your abrasive behaviour, but he filled in the gaps for you.

“Bitch?” He supplied with a laugh and a raised brow.

“Yeah, a major bitch.” You agreed, laughing with him at your own expense. “I just thought that... well, no one like you could ever...you know...like me or anything.” Your smile fell and he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips.

“No one like me? An orphaned mutant from a city that no longer exists?” He shook his head and pressed a finger to your lips to stop your protests. “Listen here, princessa.” He stared deeply into your eyes and you felt his gaze caress your soul.

“I think you are incredible. Beautiful. Amazing. Magical. Stunning. ” With each praise, he mapped your face with kisses. On your nose, your eyelids, your cheeks, your forehead, and finally on the corner of your mouth. “Please, don’t ever doubt that.”

His words had brought tears to your eyes and you simply nodded, a smile tugging at your lips, and your heart feeling so full it could burst.

A month had passed since you and Pietro had become ‘an item’, and every day was better than the last. You had fallen in love with him, and in the process, came to love yourself.

Pietro, on the other hand, was like a giddy teenager. Constantly sneaking heated kisses and touches wherever you were, whether it was in the bedroom or under the table at breakfast, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Or his eyes.

“Brother, if you don’t quit staring at Y/N you’re going to miss the entire movie,” Wanda said with a smirk one night as a group of you had settled down to watch a film. You were curled up into his side with your legs tucked beneath you, and his arm was circling you, bringing you closer.

You looked up to find that he was indeed staring at you. You grinned and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“But she’s nicer to look at.” He stated simply with a smirk. He was met with a groan from nearly everyone in the room.

“Yeesh, you guys make me sick.” Natasha fake gagged but sent you a playful smile and a wink anyway.

“Yeah, get a room, you rabbits.” Tony quipped, making the rest of them laugh at your red face.

That was one thing that hadn’t happened between you and Pietro. Sex. You had done everything but. It was beginning to make old doubts bubble to the surface.

Maybe he realised he doesn’t like you like that...

You scowled at the voice in your head before standing up abruptly. “I’m going to get some water.” You announced to no one in particular. You raced to the kitchen, ignoring the questioning eyes you left behind you.

You were filling up a glass when you felt him behind you. As silent as a breeze yet as fast as a tornado.

“What’s up?” He asked, his arms circling you from behind. You shook your head in answer, not trusting your voice to be steady.

Pietro pressed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. “Tell me, princessa.”

You remained silent, taking a big sip from your water to give yourself time to formulate an answer. Before you could, however, Pietro seemed to have figured it out.

“This is about what Tony said, isn’t it?” He realised. “Y/N, listen-”

“No, Pietro, stop.” You said suddenly, cutting him off. You turned around and twisted out of his arms, distancing yourself from him. “It’s okay if you don’t like me like that-”

“That’s not fair-”

“You don’t have to pretend-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“-that you like me.”

“Stop.” He growled, rushing over to you and clamping a hand over your mouth.

You stood in the kitchen, staring at each other, your eyes filled with different emotions.

Yours with sadness, his with anger.

“Now, we are going to continue this discussion in my room.” He stated in a deadly calm voice, and before you could protest, he had scooped you up and ran you to his room on the 41st floor, leaving you standing in the middle of the room.

“Pietro-” You began, reaching out a hand to him but he silenced you with a look.

“No. Listen to me, Y/N.” He rounded on you and began to advance towards you. “You’re so smart, but you’re also so fucking naïve sometimes.” He growled, stepping towards you, making you take a step back.

You stayed silent, knowing better than to talk at this point. And also because you felt guilty about upsetting him.

“I didn’t want you to think I was just using you for sex.” He explained, running a hand through his hair. He took another step towards you, and you mirrored him by taking yet another step back

Realisation dawned on you and you felt even more guilty if that was even possible. “I’m sorry, Pietro.” You whispered sincerely.“I didn’t realise-”

“I’m sorry I made you doubt me.” He said, taking another step forward. “I’m even more sorry that this has taken so long.”

The next steps you both took had you backed up into the wall, the cold plaster causing goosebumps to rise across your back.

In the blink of an eye, he was pressing you against the wall with his hips and was holding your arms above your head, trapping you there.

“Don’t you know what you do to me?” He whispered and ground his hips against yours.

You could definitely feel what you were doing to him.

“Please,” you gasped, feeling his lips ghost the shell of your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you, princessa.” He promised and you let out a moan at his words. “But first, I’m going to worship you.”

Without another word, he dropped to his knees in front of you and yanked down your jeans and panties before you could suck in another breath. He circled his arms around your thighs and pulled your legs over his shoulders.

You carded a hand through his hair and he held eye contact with you as he pressed a kiss on the inside of both of your thighs before placing one straight over your core. Your hand tightened in his hair.

Pietro licked a stripe up your centre, flicking his tongue around your clit. You let out a moan and your head fell back against the wall, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Look at me, princessa.” He ordered, and you complied, regarding him through half closed eyes. “I want you to watch me as I make you cum with my mouth.”

He delved into the heat between your legs, licking and sucking and nipping. You writhed against his mouth, biting your lip in an effort to keep quiet but it was no use.

His tongue teased your entrance before suddenly sliding inside, creating a whole new sensation in you. You gasped and arched your back, driving his tongue further inside you.

The sensation of a tidal wave of pure pleasure building in your lower stomach was torturing you, all brought on by the man between your legs and his magical tongue. You ached to have his fingers in you, or better yet, his dick.

“Pietro,” You moaned, which made him look up at you in question, but he never took his mouth off you. “I need you inside me.”

He just shook his head in response and you could feel him smirk against you. His nose bumped against your clit, sending your head into a spin.

“Please...” You groaned, but he ignored your requests and simply sped up his tongue, eager to bring you to orgasm.

As he coaxed you closer and closer to the edge, your legs began to quiver around his head. His tongue delved in deeper and with a speed you knew was only possible with him.

You tried to grind yourself against him but he held your hips still with a strong grip, only allowing you the pleasure he was willing to give to you.

He sucked hard at your clit before biting down on your bundle of nerves ever so gently, and that was it.

The knot in your stomach unravelled, and you along with it. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, and you screamed his name as your head tipped back against the wall.

Your legs shook as he carried you through your high with his tongue. The next thing you know, the softness of his comforter replaced the hard wall on your back and your head was nestled on a pillow.

He’d carried you to his bed and laid you down softly, lying over you and caging you in with his arms.

His eyes were filled with adoration, but also the hint of the hardness you knew always existed below the surface.

“Do you still doubt me?” He asked, trailing a hand up your side and under your shirt.

“It was never you I doubted.” You breathed, still trying to catch your breath after your mindblowing orgasm.

His eyes widened infinitesimally and he sat up abruptly on his heels, looking down at you from between your legs. He pulled his shirt off in a single tug and your eyes dropped to his chest and abdominals.

This man is a god.

He dipped back over you, arching his back into you as he ravaged your mouth with his own and ground his tracksuit-clad hips over your dripping pussy. You moaned into his mouth and traced his abs with your fingertips, earning a low groan in response.

His hand cupped your heat, sending shivers down your spine and causing a litany of curses to leave your mouth.

“Who did this to you, princessa?” He growled, slipping a finger between your folds.

“Y-You did.” You managed to get out between hitched breaths.

“And who is going to fuck you until you can’t walk?” He pushed down his pants and boxers until he was able to kick them off, leaving you both naked apart from your top.

“You are.” You breathed and allowed him to slide your top over your head and fling it across the room with great speed.

“Who do you belong to?” He murmured against your skin, tracing his lips across the top of your breasts. You arched your back so he could unclip your bra and skillfully remove it from you.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth and pinched the other, sending shockwaves to your core.

“You.” You answered, cupping his jaw and guiding his lips back to yours, where he met you with a punishing kiss. You could feel him lining up at your entrance and you wrapped your legs around his waist, encouraging him closer.

“And who loves you?” He whispered as he slowly began to enter you. Your eyes widened and you sharpened your gaze on him in shock.

“Wha-” He gripped your jaw and pressed his forehead against yours as he slowly entered you, never breaking eye contact.

“I said,” With a single thrust, he buried himself in you completely, laying a firm hand on your pelvis to stop your hips from writhing against him in pleasure. “Who loves you?”

He regarded you with such sincerity that you couldn’t return his intense stare, but the grip he had on your jaw refused to let you look away.

“Tell me.” He demanded, not moving inside you. You swallowed your fears, doubts and insecurities and levelled his gaze with yours.

“You do.” As you said it, you felt a smile overcome your features. “You love me.”

His eyes darkened with lust, and what you knew now to be love, and he kissed you passionately. You wrapped your hands around his biceps and gave yourself fully to him.

He drew out of you and thrust in again slowly. The little discomfort you had felt at the beginning was melting away and sheer, toe-curling pleasure was taking over.

You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, so every drag of his hips and drive of his cock in you added quickly to the coiling behind your navel.

You dug your nails into the flesh of his back as he continued his languid strokes. You could feel every vein of his member, its pulsating heat as it pushed and pulled you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re mine,” Pietro growled against your lips, his hand on your hip tightening so much that you knew there was going to be a bruise there tomorrow, but you relished in it.

As if to prove his point, he traced a trail of kisses to your neck where he began to suck and nibble a large hickey.

“All yours...only yours, Pietro.” You agreed in moans, running your hands through his hair and tugging when the sensations became too much.

You were so close, and you told him so.

“Hold on, princessa.” He groaned, his hand cupped your jaw so gently that it threw you off balance; the rough snaps of his hips and the loving stroke of his thumb on your jaw.

“I want you to remember who made you like this, Y/N.” He said, his jaw clenching with the effort it took to hold off his impending orgasm. “Every time you close your eyes, you’re going to see me fucking you into the mattress.”

His accent along with his dirty words made your eyes roll into your head and you were so close you were certain you were going to fall off the edge with his next thrust.

“Say my name as you cum, baby.” He growled and the hand on your hip dipped to rub circles across your clit.

You exploded. Or maybe imploded is the right word.

His breath ghosting across your face as he whispered his native tongue to you, telling you to cum, his hand on your clit, his cock hitting spots in you that you didn’t know could cause so much pleasure... it was enough to bring tears to your eyes as your soul detached and shattered into a million particles.

Like you were told, you screamed his name as you orgasmed, your hands scraping down his back and your legs shaking around his waist as he continued to thrust into you, spurring on the waves of pleasure that assaulted you.

As you came down from your high, you caressed his face gently and looked deep into his eyes.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” You murmured over and over again before he captured your lips with his and emptied himself in you.

His eyes screwep up and he let out a loud moan as he too reached his climax.

The last throes of your orgasm released you as he collapsed on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

He rolled off you and onto his back, dragging you with him and pulling you until you lay across his chest, your head resting over his loudly beating heart and your arms wrapped around each other.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered into your hair and you felt like you could fly away, you were that happy.

“I love you too, Pietro.” You tilted your head up and he kissed you sweetly on the mouth.

“That was something else.” He murmured as you both came up for air.

“Yeah, it was pretty...” You struggled to adequately describe the sex you just had.

“Mindblowing?” He offered with a cheeky grin.

“Exactly. Mindblowing.” You agreed and tucked your head back under his chin.

“You didn’t see that coming?” He questioned playfully.

“A month ago, definitely not.” You stated, tracing circles on his chest.

“And now?” He coaxed and this time it was you with the cheeky grin as you raised your head to look at him and hitched an eyebrow.

“Now...I wanna see how fast you really are.” You winked at him.

Pietro was suddenly the one blushing and flipped you onto your back in less than a second.

“Oh, you’re on.” He laughed and attacked your mouth with his.

You never doubted yourself after that.

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #avengerssmut #pietro x reader #Smut #pietro maximoff imagine

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firelord-frowny · 3 years

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one thing i think is Lame and Sucky about like... current ~popular~ attitudes about Positivity and Mental Health as it relates to interpersonal relationships,

is that it seems like a lot of people nowdays believe that they should only ever have “positive” interactions with anyone, and that anyone who wishes to confide in them about upsetting things, or vent to them about anything, is ~negative~ or ~toxic~, blah blah, people are quick to dismiss the less enjoyable emotional needs of their friends, and instead just tell them to ~get therapy~ or whatever, and liiiiike...

“get therapy” is for when your friend has been dwelling on something in a manner that negatively impacts their life and/or the quality of your friendship. “get therapy” is for when they went through a bad breakup six months ago but still calls you, crying, in the middle of the night.

“get therapy” is NOT for when they got dumped yesterday and they need a shoulder to cry on and they spend the next few days requiring more attention than usual because that’s just What Happens when someone goes through a hard time.

And I feel like over the last few years I’ve seen a LOT of instances where someone is going through the kind of Hard Time that anyone would struggle through, yet the people in their lives want absolutely no part of supporting them through it beyond just an obligatory “aw, sorry to hear that.”

People don’t feel like they should ever have to share in the sorrow of their friends. And worse, people feel like the expectation that they should sit in the company of their friend’s sorrow for any amount of time is toxic or abusive.

But like??? That’s literally one of the most important parts of friendships???

It’s one thing if somebody’s Bad Feelings are an everyday burden. Like, that’s some Clinical shit that requires professional guidence.

But not every Bad Feeling is the emotional equivalent of a serious physical injury that needs stitches or a cast or some other treatment that can only be given by a doctor.

Some Bad Feelings are more like sore feet after a long day. You don’t need a pediatrist, but a foot rub from a loved one sure would help. Or a cut that’s on a part of your body you can’t easily reach. No need for an ER trip - you’ve got a pal who can help dab the wound on your shoulder blade clean, and put a bandage on it. Or maybe you’ve sprained your ankle and need some help around the house for a few days. Sure, it’s an inconvenience for someone to have to stop by and bring you meals, or do your laundry for you, but it’s temporary, and they make it work because they love you, and it’s something they can manage without any long-term consequences in their life.

The same applies for tough times of the emotional variety.

Like, if you really cannot listen to your friend cry on the phone for a half hour once in a blue moon, thennnnn... that’s your flaw. Not theirs. And I mean, yes, not everyone is Good At being supportive in tough times, but like... if that’s the case, then you need to own that, and either make an effort to get better at it, or make sure your friends know that the reason you can’t support them in that way is because you don’t know how, and not because they don’t deserve support.

Like, it’s okay if you’re lacking in those kinds of interpersonal skills, and it’s okay to set that boundary if you’re really just not cut out for that. But please don’t think it’s ~woke~ to want to be totally uninvolved in the sorrow of your loved ones. Turning away from people when they’re hurting isn’t a virtue. It doesn’t mean you’re strong or confident or ~more evolved~ than the person who’s longing for someone to share their hard times with for a little while.

Likewise, a person who comes to you for support when they’re unhappy is not trying to bring you down. They don’t “want you to be as miserable as they are.” They’re not jealous of your perceived happiness. They’re literally just being human, and expressing a normal desire for companionship, and a normal need to express theirself to someone who cares about how they feel. Yes, some people don’t always go about it in a healthy way, and if that’s the case, then it’s important to know how to communicate that to them in a respectful, compassionate manner.

But for the most part, if you genuinely find it too disruptive to your own life to spend any time Being There for a sad friend every now and then, then that’s honestly an issue that you should probably consider remedying. You should be able to spend an occasional afternoon on Being There for a hurt loved one without it triggering any major disruptions in your own emotional functioning. Like... that kind of social deficiency has the potential to really damage the depth and quality of your relationships with friends and family.

like omfg??? In college I was super great friends with this one particular girl, and she would confide in me allllll the time about stuff that Upset her, and like... it was a normal amount of complaining. Like, it wasn’t every single time we talked, and it never totally dominated the conversation, but like... she would tell me stuff, and i would listen, and respond accordingly. Then one day, I’m feeling super shitty about something I was going through, and I texted her, just wanting the comfort of Talking About It. Then she responds with some bullshit about ~i’m sorry you’re upset, but i’m not going to iNviTe neGativITY into my life, i won’t be burdened with other people’s issues,~ blah blah FUCKIN BLAH. and i’m like!!! bitch you were JUST sobbing while we were in your car as you were telling me about getting played by one of the dudes you’d been fucking! you were telling me last week about how you were sad about being a shitty musician! AND YOUUUU wANT MEEEEE TO ~NOT BRING NEGATIVITY INTO YOUR LIFE~????

And that was basically the moment when my close friendship with her downgraded to just being friendly acquaintances. Bc how can I be true friends with someone who’s only interested in me when things are good in my life?

Nobody is meant to go through shitty times alone. If you expect to share in the delight of Good Times with your loved ones, then you need to also be prepared to share in the hurt of bad times.

There are obviously times where Being Supportive really does mean encouraging someone to seek professional guidence, or encouraging them to make an effort to put some focus on things other than what’s hurting them, and sometimes it really is best to draw a line

But most of the time, Being Supportive just means being there.

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