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distracteddegenerate · 3 years

Note

I'm sorry if this annoying but can I please get a little fanfic with the inumaki forget idea ? Sorry if this werd English isn't my first languag

Not annoying at all anon, In fact I really like this idea of yours. (Also your English is pretty good so don’t worry!) Hope you like the fic!

CHARACTERS: Inumaki Toge x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Dark Content, Noncon, Yandere, Manipulation, Mind Control/ Brain Washing, Cunnilingus

Minors Do Not Interact!

1.5k words

It was comforting, the fluff of ashen white hair that lay on your shoulder, the morning light seeping in from behind the slat blinds cascading a bright shimmer over the expanse of the snowy tufts. The individual strands were dusting your skin feather-light, tickling against you in the sway of every meager intake and exhalation of breath escaping Toge’s mouth.

You had known Toge for years now, and although you couldn’t truly remember how you even came to know him in the first place, he had effortlessly situated himself in the spot of one of your nearest and dearest. You found that his earnest silence brought you solace, words that he could not convey through sentence instead being understood through the knowing glances and expressions you had come to share with one another, the fluency of this mutual language only strengthening with the passage of time.

Now was one of those blissful moments of comfortable, knowing quiet. domestically lounging around your apartment during a day off, lazily giggling at some meme compilation in unison while leaning against one another on the settee. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend your time, this cozy sphere of amenity that you had constructed with Toge an apt repose from the outside world.

Whilst you were lost reflecting on your rosy blessings, you were suddenly brought back to reality when you felt the weight of toge’s head lift from your shoulder, turning to meet the familiar gaze of inquisitive violet eyes peering at you from behind off-white tresses.

“Are you okay, Toge?”

“Mustard Leaf.”

The response, that usually implied he was doing fine in the small dictionary of onigiri vocabulary he had come to employ.. Didn't feel genuine, to say the least. His irises were blown wide, registering your countenance as though he was trying to gleen some hidden information from your inquiring squint, when Toge began to lean further over you. You turned the front of your body to look at him directly, though you were steadily inclining your spine backwards in your perplexion at Toge’s unusual advancement.

He soon had draped his entire upper body over yours, hands reaching around your frame to press into the sofa to support himself as his face drew dangerously close to yours.

“Toge?” A heat was rising in your upper body. Sure, you and Toge were incredibly close friends.. But this was a little too much for your liking. You pressed your palms against the jut of his shoulders and pushed slightly, though with no true force. Blushing, you faced away from him, trying to announce your discomfort at his invasive approach. “T-toge.. This is a bit too-”

“Don’t move.”

And sure enough, compelled by some otherworldly force to entertain the command, you had stopped moving in your tracks. It didn’t take long for you to figure Toge had used his technique. Like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, your body froze statuesque while conflicting eyes beamed alive, frantically searching for the reasoning behind the cruel fate that was racing towards you.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his lips pulled tight, his usually bright irises murky with shadows of deception. Something awful was afoot. His deadpan look in conjunction with the preceding events told you this was no prank, swiftly realising that your trust in him had been irredeemably breached to the point of fear at what was coming next. Your body twitched as you strained under the spell that had been cast on you, helpless to the plummeting feeling of the safe structure of friendship you had built with Toge coming crumbling down around you.

Your fears were proven genuine when Toge’s hand began reaching forward, coming to rest on the curve of your hip. You tried to communicate with your eyes, begging for him to stop and to just think about what he was doing, but he paid no heed to it. In fact it seemed like he was ignoring your glare, focused on the task that lay at his palms. He began deftly inching your bottoms down over your pelvis, panties and all coming to a halt over your thighs, just above your kneecaps.

It was then that he shot you a glance of what seemed like sorrowfulness, as if he was fully aware he was enacting something cruel but thought it necessary. Perhaps like how a farmer would look at lame animal before putting it to rest.

Still, you were broken away from the horrid thoughts and back into a harsher reality when Toge had begun ripping the aforementioned cloth even further down your legs until they reached your calves. Shoving his hands between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressed forcefully against the flesh and separated the limbs till they spread wide. You were completely exposed, the open air cutting a chill against your privates.

He traced his fingertips over your slit, with whatever wet, however slight gathered up in it’s trailing wake. He looked you in your eyes when he brought the digits to your clit, as if looking for a reaction when he began grinding his forefingers against the sensitive nub. Unable to do so much as flinch away from the offensive touch, you mentally grit your teeth as you felt that aching bundle of nerves scream against the assault. It felt painful, at first. You were so unprepared for the sudden encroachment on your most sensitive parts, It made you want to recoil in on yourself completely, though there was nought you could do in protest.

Toge began occasionally lowering his fingers to reach directly into your core, drawing out the little slick you were producing to mercifully rub it over your clit. The lubrication meant his ministrations were less painfully direct, his motions transforming into a light flutter that felt traitorously gratifying, an unwarranted heat beginning to pool in your stomach. Your body was disobediently reacting to his touches with craving, and it made you want to hide away forever but unfortunately you were rendered completely unable to escape the explicit display you were being forced to partake in.

You felt his warm breath exhale humid air over your cunt, when you noticed from your frozen position that you couldn’t see Toge’s face any more, only the top of his alpine locks as he lowered himself further over your pulsing heat.

You knew what was coming, but you still inwardly lurched with shock at the swiping of that lithe muscle over your aching bundle. The feeling made you throb with hypersensitivity, the combination of the attention that area had received earlier now with the sudden sensation of Toge’s wet mouth lapping at you desperately causing your entire pussy to twitch around his tongue in a chase for release.

Dragging and dipping his emblazoned tongue over and between your sopping folds, he came to plant his mouth directly over your clit. He sucked over it with such vigor his cheeks completely hollowed, rolling your nub between his lips whilst deft fingers aided in your pleasure as he continued to pump them in and out of the sticky apex of your crotch.

He worked at you for some time, steady in the intensity of his applications. It wasn’t long before the sensations grew too much, pussy clenching around his fingers as you reached a climax, flood gates swinging open as you gushed helplessly over his face.

He stayed where he was for a second, before rising. When his pale face came into view, you took in the sight of your own slick washing trails down his chin, the purple tattoos it overlay on his cheek glistening prismatic in the light the sun cast over it. He looked wild, salivating at the maw, sparkling amethysts settling an intense gaze into your own eyes which were vacantly still trying to work through the thralls of your orgasm.

Yet, fear sparked them alert with dread when you saw his mouth drop open to speak once again.

“Forget.”

Even in that split second of recognition you had before your memories had been erased for (unbeknownst to you,) the umpteenth time, it was enough for an intensely visceral stream of consciousness to flood your thoughts. You realised intuitively Toge was never really the person you thought he was, and you wondered how many times you had been used like this. How much had happened, how much had you been subject to by his cursed technique. Just how much was real in that domestic setting that you had been experiencing before it all came crashing down like this.

***

If only you knew just how much of your true self had slipped away. With your hands wrapped around his cock once more, The sunset and rise beginning to melt away at the edges into a haze of warm gradients was just a pretty sight to you, the concept of time becoming irrelevant to you as you settled into your life as an ignorant hostage.

Extra Notes:

Yeah so this kinda became a fucked up version of 50 first dates.. although now that I think about it I guess 50 first dates is pretty fucked up? Also god writing a character who hardly speaks is so hard in fic format;; I guess enjoy the challenge though

#inumaki x reader #inumaki #yandere inumaki #dark jjk #jjk #noncon tw #dubcon tw #yandere tw #manipulation tw #mind control tw #brain washing tw #smut #dark content

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nagipops · 3 years

Text

SWEET NOTHINGS, BITTER ENDINGS PART II.

SUMMARY: in which your precious life is ended through a cruel twist of fate by your beloved brother.

WARNINGS: blood, profanity + SPOILERS for KNY chapter 115

A/N: link to part one.

He heard a deafening roar cry out from a distance away as crows frantically flapped out of the trees and into the sky above.

A demon?

Sheathing his blade, the hashira began to sprint to the source of the noise coming from the east.

The first scent he picked up on was blood. It was faint, but it was there. But it wasn’t demon blood.

Human blood?

As he continued to travel east, heart racing, he heard crashing up ahead and quickly dove into a nearby bush to scout out the intruder. Narrowing his eyes, he spotted a flash of pink and green. Mitsuri?

He cautiously searched the area for any signs of demons before following after the pink haired girl.

“Kanroji!” he barked as the girl’s head perked up at the sound of her name. She whipped around, her green eyes lighting with relief.

“Sanemi!” She bounded over to him, grasping his shoulders tightly with shaking arms. "Sanemi, where did (Y/N) go? Did you meet up with her?"

His veins turned to ice. The human blood he smelled. The spine-chilling roar he heard.

Sanemi opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a petrified shake of his head.

The light green eyes facing him widened with fear. "Oh, god... oh god oh god oh god..." She snapped out of her horrified trance as another pained howl pierced through the midnight air and her eyes locked with the wind hashira's once more. Steeling their gazes, the two pillars sped off to the direction of the noise.

If there was one thing Sanemi wished to erase from his memory forever, it would be the sight of his mother, a feral demon ripping her own children to shreds with her own fangs and claws.

If there was another thing Sanemi wished to erase from his memory forever, it would be the horrific scene splayed out in front of him.

Thick ash billowing into the air. The rancid stench of rotten flesh and blood.

The sight of his little sister crouching on the ground.

With pearly white skin.

With raking, hooked claws.

With red, watery eyes.

With glinting ivory fangs.

With the scent of a demon flowing from her body, her limbs, her breaths,

Her blood.

The wind hashira stood paralyzed to the ground, mortified at what he was seeing with his own two eyes.

His little sister.

A demon.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

“S-sanemi...” a soft whisper sounded from his right. He slowly turned his head to find the love hashira’s horrified gaze locked onto the demon in front of her. “She’s— she...”

Mitsuri began to collapse to the ground, but not before Sanemi could wrap his arms around her frail, trembling body, his mouth still agape.

“What do we do?” she whimpered weakly, still staring in shock at her sister— no, the demon in front of her. “Sanemi, what do we—”

“I don’t know!” he snarled, vengeance and frustration bubbling within his body. Not again. This was not happening to him again. Setting down the girl onto her feet, shuddering hands moved to the sheath of his blade. “She’s— she’s a demon. We... we have to.”

“No!” Mitsuri cried, tackling him to the ground. “Stop! She’s our sister!”

Sanemi clenched his teeth with such resentment that you could hear them scraping against each other. “You think I don’t know that?!” he shouted at his comrade, his harsh voice breaking in his throat. “You think I want to do this?!”

Tears spilled from the green eyes hovering over him, but no words escaped her lips. Her head shook softly, unable to grasp the fact that this was reality. This was real. This wasn’t some cruel nightmare. Her sister was a demon.

Mitsuri fell to the ground as the white-haired pillar shoved past her shoulder, drawing his blade as he stared down the growling demon in front of him.

“(Y-Y/N)...” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle of his sword, gritting his teeth. “You idiot...”

Just then, a flash of purple materialized in front of him and the scent of flora clouded his senses.

“Shinazugawa-san,” the lilting voice warned. “Please step back.”

Sanemi growled, his furious eyes clouding with the urge to shove away the small girl in front of him.

An iron grip suddenly clutched at the sleeve of his haori.

“Stop.” The wind hashira heard the voice he loathed so much speak resolutely into his ear.

“Piss off!” he barked, snapping his arm to release it from the water pillar’s grip. But it was no use, as the hashira’s hold stayed firm. “I’m the only one who can do this! None of you have had to kill your own family members before!”

Giyuu’s eyebrows furrowed with bitterness as he pinned his comrade’s arms behind his back. “That’s enough. We’re taking her back to headquarters to consult with Ubuyashiki. The mission is over.”

The rest of the hashira stared down at the demon in front of them in horror.

The determined eyes, the confident smile, the warm aura of a little sister...

It was all gone.

“A demon...” the stone pillar wept, clasping his hands together and sending a silent prayer to the heavens for their lost sister.

The youngest pillar narrowed his eyes at the demon. “She’s not human at all any more, is she?”

Giyuu pulled on the rope restraining her, shaking his head. “She was... she was trying to speak while we brought her here,” he said softly, recalling how painful it was for the hashira to hear her pained screams and cries as they carried her home. “It seems like... she isn’t able to fully speak yet.”

The demon with the rope around her neck thrashed and snarled, baring her sharp white fangs and clawing at the hashira standing around her. Her catlike pupils dilating, she lunged forward at the flame pillar with a roar. “Rrrahh! He— hckk...” Giyuu tugged on the rope once more, stopping her just a few inches from Rengoku’s chest as she went limp.

“Rengoku-san!” Mitsuri cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. None of the hashira knew what to do with their sister. This monster in front of them.

How were they, the pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps, whose duty is to slay all demons, going to kill their own sister?

Did they have to?

“H-he-lp...”

All heads whipped to their sister crawling on the ground, her mouth agape and her red eyes watering.

“H-hel-p... end... m—”

Something shifted in her eyes. As if she was finally able to see clearly for the first time.

Her crimson orbs widened, her claws reaching to her pale face as though she was making sure she was real. She sat there, knees folded underneath her, touching and patting her demonic body with wonder.

The hashira locked eyes with each other in concern.

Has she regained consciousness? Would she turn malicious? Will she recognize who we are? Does she know we’re her siblings?

A broken sob pierced through the air as all of the pillars turned to the center of the circle once again.

One gnarly claw sat over her heart, the other covering her pale mouth. A steady flow of tears poured from her glistening scarlet eyes as she kept her gaze trained on the ground in front of her.

“I-I’m...”

Giyuu gazed at her with sorrow. Shinobu’s eyes filled with sympathy. Mitsuri clasped her hands over her mouth, letting out a sob. Obanai lightly touched her shoulder. Gyomei’s tears began to flow faster. Sanemi stood paralyzed with shock.

“A... de... mon...”

The wind hashira raised a shaking finger, pointing at his sister kneeling on the ground. “O-oi...” he started, his voice trembling. “She can— she can talk...”

Moving to crouch in front of the demon was the insect pillar who tentatively reached a cautious arm onto her bony white shoulder. “My little butterfly... Can you hear me?”

Crimson eyes slowly slid over to meet violet ones, tears still trickling out of them. Her head nodded at an excruciating pace, seemingly sapping all of her energy.

“Good. I am your older sister, Shinobu, and these are all of your siblings, you see?” Her soft, kind voice unwavered, as though she had comforted demons like this countless times during her life. She turned and swept one arm out to the hashira standing before her, the other trained firmly on the younger girl’s back.

Staring before you were the nine pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps. Your nine older siblings locked their grief-stricken eyes with yours. You could barely hear your sister's voice over the thumping sound of blood rushing through your body.

You were so thirsty. You were so tired. You just wanted to sleep. Forever.

“... friends, okay?” the soft voice carried you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N)? Are you still with us?”

You felt your lips part, but no sound came out. Panic rose throughout your body as you tried and failed, and tried and failed again to speak.

The hashira before you looked at each other in concern before the one behind you piped up. “Use your body to speak if you can,” the calm voice spoke. “I’ll keep her on the rope just in case.”

Your stinging eyes moved to meet with pained dark blue ones as his pale hands wrapped firmly around the rope your frail body was attached to.

Nodding slowly— gods, it was so painful— you reached a hand over to one side of your rope-bruised neck and dragged it over to your other side, making a cutting motion.

The hashira gaped at you in horror.

“You... you want us t-to kill you?” The white-haired male yelled, the pulsing veins in his blank eyes straining as they peered into yours.

They were red.

Blood.

You needed blood. You craved it so, so badly. You could feel it bubbling in your gut and spreading from the tips of your clawed toes to your pale white skull. You couldn’t live without blood.

Human blood.

It was everywhere. In a quarter of a millisecond, it was everywhere.

Blood.

Gushing out from a white haori-covered shoulder.

Right underneath your glinting fangs.

Oh, it was delicious.

Terrified screams and the clink of metal cried out from all around you.

But all you could focus on was the taste of blood.

Human blood.

A crack.

You were thrown onto your back. A rope pulled tautly around your neck. The butt of a sword staked right onto your chest.

You cheeks were wet. Why were they wet?

Your eyes stung so badly. Why did they sting?

A strained noise escaped from your throat against your will. “Do— it!”

The voice wasn’t your own.

This body wasn’t your own.

Who were you?

"DO IT!" a voice shrieked from inside you. "DO IT! KILL ME!"

Who... who was saying that?

Nine horrified pairs of eyes stared down at you. Who were they again?

"Please!" the voice was hoarse now. "Please, before I hurt you again!"

The handle of the sword pushing into your chest trembled. You turned to meet the wide eyes of the man with the white hair...

Who was he again?

Oh right, he had the most delicious blood...

But there was something else about him...

Your vision grew red as you remembered the pure ecstasy of drinking in his blood, quenching your never-ending thirst for just a moment...

You craved it again.

Thrashing your body about underneath the sword, you lunged forward, clawing at the man's pale neck.

Petrified gasps sounded from all around you.

A searing pain flooded through your entire body.

There, piercing right through your neck, was a nichirin blade.

And directly in front of your eyes was the green sword hilt of the wind pillar.

Wind pillar.

Your eyes widened in realization as all of your memories of your human life came flooding back into your head.

Shinobu teaching you how to concoct various antidotes and poisons. Mitsuri helping you fit your official Demon Slayer Corps uniform. Rengoku helping you up after a difficult sparring session. Giyuu patting your head before sending you off to the Final Selection. Himejima giving you charms of luck before your first mission.

Sanemi, who had supposedly died to the demon who turned you, in front of you now, with his sword buried into your throat.

“N-nemi—” you managed to croak out, your vision growing dark. All you could focus on was the horrified gaze staring back at you.

"Fuck, (Y/N)!" Sanemi barked. "Why the fuck did you go and do that and kill yourself! Shit! You're gonna fucking die now!" You could see tears on his scarred cheeks.

A tiny, sorrowful smile spread across your face. "Don't cry, Sanemi..." All of your energy poured into this one smile, this one smile to say your goodbyes. "Hey— Nemi... remember, you always said... humans... always get the last laugh, huh?"

The last thing you saw before your vision went black was Sanemi’s frightened eyes.

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#kny #kny headcanons #kny imagines #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer angst #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kny angst #sanemi imagines #mitsuri imagines #shinobu imagines #giyuu imagines #rengoku imagines #uzui imagines #angst

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pocketramblr · 4 years

Text

Rainbow glow

aka yall feral followers wanted the angst and i cannot help but to deliver. so in a role reversal, today Kitten wrote you lovely friendship rainbow eyes- and the start of trust with other colors entering green. have something terrible from me in the ‘rainbow eyes are evil death pain’ version of the au

Shouta felt cold. Not an icy frigid- just. Empty. the cold of an unused storage space behind dirty concrete and thin metal. The cold of a grey sky that won’t even give you the relief of rain or snow. The kind of cold when you had nothing in your pantry, when you had to explain that to your child.

A child- God, how was he going to explain this to Eri? To his other students? To All Might, to Midoriya’s mother?

Hizashi shut off the car, but didn’t move to get out yet. He stared ahead, silent. He shouldn’t be silent. He shouldn’t have tears streaked down his face, his eyes bloodshot behind the glasses.

Should, that didn’t matter. Could, would, didn’t matter. Those were excuses. He had to do this.

“Do you think- you want to just, be in the teacher’s commons for a bit?” Hizashi finally asked. “Don’t think there would be anyone else there who’d mind. The kids are taking care of Eri, right?”

The kids- the ones who almost weren’t, anymore. Mirio was going on about a tea party.

“Yeah.” Shouta finally spoke. It sounded wrong. It felt wrong, in his throat.

“Then we can go to the commons, for a bit?”

“No.” Shouta had to commit. He had to do this. It was what was rational. It was what would protect the others. He couldn’t fail more of them. “There’s something I have to do.”

“You can pick up the kids’ work to grade later, Sho.” Hizashi tried. He really wanted him to be there, didn’t he. He didn’t want to be alone.

“I- it’s not that. There’s just one conversation I need to have. Then I’ll meet you in the commons.”

Just one conversation. Like this morning had been ‘just one conversation.’ It was still the first time in maybe years that he’d cried. Maybe he’ll cry again. No, he couldn’t let himself. Not yet. Not until after. There might be a fight, after, there might be nothing. But he had to do it, still.

“Ok.” Hizashi nodded, squeezing his shoulder before he climbed out of the car and shut his door. Shouta took one moment, one deep breath, before getting out himself.

With the long drive to and from Tartarus, plus the meetings inside, his students were long out of class and practice for the day.

He hoped Midoriya would be alone.

Hope was not on his side. He should have known that, by now. Midoriya was in the middle of the couch, between Todoroki and Tenya. Uraraka was on the floor, leaning against his legs, Asui sitting on her lap as she braided her hair. They were focused on the tv, where Mina, Kaminari, Ojiro, and Tokoyami were fiercely battling it out in some racing game or another, and apparently all the students had picked sides.

Asui noticed him first, and though the amused, watery glow of her eyes flickered, they didn’t dim. He nodded to her.

Her eyes wouldn’t be glowing happily after this.

But they wouldn’t be rainbow, unseeing, at least. He had to focus on that. He had to think rationally.

His hands were shaking, so he shoved them in his pockets.

“Midoriya.” He called. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

The green e- the green-haired boy jolted, surprised to turn and see him. A nervous smile twisted his lips. “Uh, sure? Is there something wrong?”

All the other students were looking at Shouta now.

Well, he had been the one to miss an entire school day earlier. He hadn’t even missed a class period before that, so he was already going to be drawing attention for that.

Dimly, he was glad Eri wasn’t here. Glad Shinsou and Aoyama weren’t here. That All Might wasn’t. This was hard enough.

He shook his head and tried to keep his voice normal. “No, nothing wrong. Just need to talk to you alone, if you’ve got a minute.”

“Oh, sure, yeah.” Midoriya began the process of detangling from his friends, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch and pulling it on as he made his way to the door, looking up at Shouta.

He looked completely guileless. His eyes looked green.

But Kurogiris eyes had looked yellow. Yellow, alone, until they peeled him back and saw the rotting corpse of his friend, of his- Oboro. Glazed, unseeing eyes with the same rainbow light that all nomu had.

With the rainbow light that Midoriya’s got, when he was brainwashed. Shouta hadn’t let himself think about it too much before today, because he just didn’t have information. He just didn’t have reason, when three simple incidents that were completely different, and one late at night with no other evidence.

No, there had been evidence. The ruined room. The strange new technique- new quirk, with a new color.

Shouta had just not wanted to believe it. Had wanted to trust All Might had it handled, like people always trusted in the man.

And now he didn’t need to believe it- he had seen something, seen proof so terrible it would haunt what little sleep he got for the rest of his life, probably.

Shouta nodded at the boy, heading outside.

Whatever he saw from Midoriya today would probably haunt him too. Would he drop limp under questioning, like Kurogiri had? Would he simply be warped away in some shadow or goop? Would he start fighting Shouta, go violent, like other nomu did?

Don’t think about that. Don’t dwell, don’t feel. Don’t lose yourself, because you have to think rationally.

He didn’t speak, for a while, just walking away from the dorm buildings. Where no one could see out a window, if they were looking.

“Aizawa-sensei? What is you wanted to talk about?” Midoriya asked after a while.

Shouta stopped.

“Midoriya, you’re…” A good kid, learning, a hero chickling in the making, already so strong, already- no, stop. It felt like saying a eulogy over a body. Even if that was what this was, for all he still looked alive. Even if that was what this was, Shouta didn’t deserve to say it.

“Yeah?” Midoriya asked.

Shouta moved, flicking his capture weapon around Midoriya.

The boy yelped, that instinctual squirming away before it stopped a moment later. “Sensei?” He asked again, higher pitched, panicked- scared. “No- you’re not Toga, are you?”

Shouta activated erasure just as his eyes light up green, sparks flying out. “I’m not.” He says. He feels so tired. “It’s me. Midoriya, I need to ask you about your quirk.”

The boy went still again. “My- my quirk?”

“Your quirks.” He corrected himself. “You have more than one. Your eyes glow with so many colors, sometimes. Like only nomus’ do.” Midoriya’s face was pale, and not just for the cold weather. “So I want to know- when did you get these quirks, what other ones do you have, and what did you do to my student?”

Midoriya gaped, a second of silence, two seconds- then he shook his head. “No, no Aizawa-sensei it isn’t like that-”

Shouta tugged him closer, leaned over him. His eyes were stinging so much, and he hadn’t even been erasing for that long.

“It’s not! It’s not, I swear Sensei, it- they were given to me. They were given to me, not stolen. By heroes.”

“Who?”

“I- I can’t tell you, right now, but-”

“The only person who has the ability to give quirks- and take them- is All For One, who’s currently sitting in Tartarus, and that villain who attacked Nabu where your class was- who was never found, dead or alive.”

“No, no it wasn’t them.” Midoriya shook his head even more. “I just- Sensei, there are six and a half billion people on this planet who have quirks, there are others like that and they aren’t all villains!”

Shouta’s mouth felt drier than his eyes, and he snapped. “Midoriya. This isn’t about the insanely rare chance of another person in this country with the same quirk who actually has a hero license and is giving you more quirks for whatever reason they have, it’s about how I had to see a dead UA student today who had been killed and turned into a nomu that looked like a normal person, until they cracked him open and saw his face, his eyes.”

“I- what? What?” Midoriya spluttered, eyes blown wide. “Who?” He glanced, panicked, towards the dorms and school and Shouta could have kicked himself.

He shouldn’t have told him that. He shouldn’t have, rationally, because he didn’t know who was listening in through Midoriya. He didn’t know if they already were aware of what the heroes had found concerning Kurogiri or not. He shouldn’t have, less rationally, because now the kid was freaking out even more.

Midoriya always was more concerned for others’ sakes…

“No one you would have known.” Shouta tried to say it calmly, free hand up peaceably. “He was killed- and captured- a few years ago.”

Fifteen years ago.

This boy would have just been a baby, then.

“And that’s why I need to know the truth about you, and your quirk, Midoriya.” The capture weapon felt so sharp against his fingers in the cold air. The knife on his belt felt so heavy against his back.

The student dips his head.

“It’s called One For All.” he admits, softly. “It was All For One’s brother’s quirk, once. But it wasn’t exactly the same- he could give his quirk, and then that person could give it and their original one to someone else, and then that person could pass all three on, so on and so forth. He could give quirks, but not take them. The person who had it last gave it to me. Th- they were better at hiding it, than i am. I didn’t think the other quirks in it would cause problems, until Black Whip was already out.”

Midoriya hadn’t had a good grasp of his quirk at the start of the year. He’d been registered as quirkless before that. It… could be possible. Shouta hoped it was possible.

Shouta had learned today, again, to not trust hope.

“Who gave it to you?”

Midoriya shuddered, and Shouta’s heart almost stopped. Don’t drop, don’t drop now-

“All Might.” The boy whispered. “All Might gave it to me.” He looked up, eyes blazing in every sense but literal. “You can’t tell anyone. You can’t tell anyone, please.”

“I won’t.” Shouta says, quicker than he should.

He blinks.

He pulls out his phone, dials a number.

“Who are you calling?” Midoriya’s voice is sharp.

“All Might.” He answers, just as the man himself does.

“Aizawa-kun! Are you back-”

“All Might. Are you in a place I can ask you questions of a sensitive nature?”

“Um. What sort of sensitive do you mean?”

“Pertaining to All For One.”

“Give me one moment.” The hero said, voice now as serious as Shouta’s was. In a few seconds, he spoke again. “I am now. What’s wrong?”

“What does ‘One For All’ mean to you?”

It’s quiet, very quiet, for what feels like a very, very long time. Shouta’s heart thumped. Midoriya looked silently on.

“It’s the name of my quirk. Aizawa, is… young Midoriya all right?”

“So he does have it, now. Your old quirk. And others.” Shouta felt something blooming in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was, he didn’t have the time or energy to examine it. It wasn’t important, it could wait until later.

“Yes. Is he all right?”

“Yeah.” Shouta let the capture weapon drop, arm still out to steady Midoriya if need be. “We need to talk, later, about this.”

“When?”

“Tomorow.” Shouta said, and then hung up. Tomorrow is a weekend, right? That’s why the kids hadn’t been busy this afternoon. Good. he had new plans for tonight. And tomorrow morning.

He drops his arms, and sighs. Exhaustion, and relief. So much relief.

“Midoriya…” He started, looking over at him. He couldn’t read the expression on the student’s face. He lifted a hand, slow, then dropped it over Midoriya’s head.

His hair was thicker than Shinsou’s, but just as soft as Shouta ruffled it.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to promise everything would be all right.

He couldn’t truthfully do either, and while he normally had no scruples about deciving his pupils… well, Midoriya had just been very, very honest with him.

“Thank you.” He said, instead, because that was true.

“Aizawa-sensei? Are you… crying?”

He was, huh. Shouta wiped his cheeks. “No.”

Midoriya let out a sound that wasn’t really a laugh, but for now, after everything, was close enough.

“Sensei, I-”

His phone rang- Shouta’s. He dug it out with a sigh. Hizashi.

“One minute.” He said, then answered. “Yeah?”

“Shou, it’s Eri.”

“What’s wrong?” Energy snapped back into him. It hadn’t been a misdirection, right? If All For One and his league knew about his brother quirk, if he was just letting Midoriya unknowingly distract the heroes while-

“She’s not feeling well. Very upset, says her horn is hurting her.” Hizashi says, and he’s not calm- just tired too. A line of fear under that. “It’s sparking a little bit, Shou, though I can’t tell if her eyes are lighting up.”

“Tell her I’ll be right there.” He hung up, slid the phone away. Then he looked to Midoriya. “Eri’s feeling sick, think you could get me to the teachers’ dorm faster?”

Midoriya looked concerned, then relaxed with a nod, a tiny smile.

In a moment, Shouta was moving in the biting wind, the world a blur. He was held in small arms, and when he looked up he saw Midoriya’s face focused ahead.

Sparks over his skin, black whips out to speed him along. His eyes shining both green and maroon. Two colors, which he thought minutes ago meant his doom.

It still could, the rational part of him reminded. He’ll be a target. For All For One, for the villains. For some other heroes, too.

Later. He can worry about that later. Once Eri’s settled.

He’d have time later.

#*posts this and dies*#my writing #eye glow au #glowing eyes au #dadzawa #oh man that got long #im so tired #and im still supposed to be writng completely seperate whumptober story right now ahhhh kjhghjk

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jaeminzie · 4 years

Text

worth it | l.dh

↳ lee haechan x gender nuetral!reader

synopsis: having a turtoring session with fratboy!hyuck that you were bribed into turned into a cuddle session, but he definitely didn’t mind at all

genre: fluffff

word count: 2,123

you rubbed your head in frustration as the memory kept replaying in your head, making you regret your past decision. earlier in the day, lee donghyuck was practically begging you to tutor him for his upcoming exam. you were so set on saying ‘no’ because you very much disliked the guy but he began to wave fifty dollars in your face. and you, a broke college student, completely forgot about all the unfavorable feelings towards the boy and gave in.

but as hours passed by, you began to reconsider if spending time with donghyuck was worth fifty dollars. maybe if it were doubled then you wouldn’t be second-guessing your past decision. you looked at your phone to check the time, just to see if it was too late to back out now. and unfortunately for you, it was.

you let out a loud groan in the middle of the student café lounge area that you and your best friend, renjun, were relaxing in. “nice to see you doing well, y/n.” renjun took a pause from drawing on his sketchbook and looked up smiling mockingly at you to which you didn’t respond to in any way shape or form. the smile dropped and a wave of annoyance took over his facial expressions. “okay, what is it. are you hungry? you should’ve just aske-”

“i’m not always hungry.” you rolled your eyes at him and lowered yourself in your seat. “it’s donghyuck-”

“oh god. then whatever it is, that obnoxiously loud groan was valid.” he groaned with you. renjun never had a good impression on donghyuck because he didn’t brake his car for renjun when he was trying to walk across the pedestrian crosswalk, and donghyuck never said sorry nor look apologetic. instead, he just gave renjun trauma. he’s the reason why renjun always wait ten seconds minimum before crossing the street. although it gets annoying, his lost face before crossing reminds you of a cute kitten which makes up for the long wait. “what did he do this time?”

“he’s paying me to tutor him at his frat.” his face was evident in disgust and empathy. “i’m regretting saying yes because i’m too exhausted to deal with him.” you whined and put your face in your hands, rubbing it harshly in an attempt to wake yourself up.

“y/n, you are so strong.” he grabbed your hand away from your face and rubbed your hand awkwardly as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. “no but seriously, text me when he starts acting up. i’ll have jaemin with me for backup because i mean.” he lifted up his arms and tried to flex his arm muscles. key word: tried. “you know.”

you let out a chuckle, closed your eyes, and let your head fall back. “i’ll definitely be live texting you whenever he says and does something stupid.”

“so basically, what you’re saying is that you’ll be texting me every second. might as well have me on facetime.”

you looked back at your best friend who was showing a toothy grin. “basically.” you checked your phone again and saw that if you didn’t leave now then you’d be late to the session. “fuck, i gotta get going. please wish me luck.” you lazily got up, got your bag and stood still in front of renjun with a face that was screaming ‘help me.’

“c’mon at least you’re getting paid, right?”

“you’re right, i need to stop being such a child.” you sighed and tried to erase every negative thought and feeling inside of you.

“kick his ass if he acts up though.” he raised an eyebrow at you.

you scoffed, “of course of course.” you sighed once again and pet renjun’s hair as you walked emotionless out of the student café and made your way to the bus stop.

donghyuck’s fraternity was only a couple blocks away and it honestly wouldn’t take long to walk there but you were too tired to even try.

the commute was quick but you wish it wasn’t. there you were, standing outside the door of regret. the outside was fairly clean but you knew that the inside would be a completely different story. you knocked a few times on the white door before a smiling donghyuck greeted you. “oh wow, you actually came.”

you fought back the urge to roll your eyes. “you’re welcome.” you both stood there awkwardly while he stared you down and you tried avoiding eye contact.

“oh sorry, come in.” he turned his body to make way for yours to enter his place. “i made sure we’re alone because it’s usually loud when the others are here. they’ll be back in a couple hours, though.” he scratched his neck and yawned while you examined the place. you were right, the inside was messy but to your surprise, it wasn’t too bad.

“yeah sounds good. it shouldn’t take too long” you turned to face him and gawked at his appearance. okay there’s no denying donghyuck is pretty decent looking, but he looks extra good today. he stood there awkwardly with his hands rested in the pockets of his oversized black jacket. his hair was slightly ruffled up, you can tell he just woke up from a nap. “you really thought i’d flake on you?” you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes wondered your facial features and marks. “i mean, you kinda hate me so.”

“i don’t hate you.” you corrected him. you may have a strong disfavor of him but you don’t hate him.

he smirked, his body seemed to relax a lot more. “then, let’s get started.” he walked past me and lead the way up the spiral staircase and into his room, which was surprisingly clean and well decorated with a tidy computer gaming set at the corner.

you set your bag right by the bed which you sat on. “so specifically, what are you struggling on?” you asked him looking at his figure that was leaned against his dresser a couple feet across from you.

“uh everything?” he let out a shy laugh and crossed his arms in front of him.

you decided not to scold him for always partying because truth is, you don’t know anything that’s going on in his life so you swallowed the upcoming insults that were climbing up your throat. “oh, well, we should get started asap then so we don’t finish too late.” you cleared your throat.

his eyes widened in surprise like he was expecting your usual witty remarks that he secretly loved, but you weren’t aware of his fondness for your attitude. “yeah for sure, let me get my stuff.” he hurriedly gathered his materials and set them on the bed next to me since he didn’t have a desk in his room. well, he did have his computer desk but there was definitely no room for books there.

he climbed on the bed and rested on his stomach and flipped the pages of the textbook, trying to find the first section he needed assistance on.

you kicked off your shoes and laid down next to him, but keeping your distance from him. he smirked slightly while still keeping his focus on the page. “you can scoot closer so you can see the book clearer.” he looked at you with innocent eyes.

in instinct, you rolled your eyes and scooted a bit closer to him. close enough to smell his cologne and close enough to see his moles randomly placed on his face and neck clearly. you took your attention away from his face when he suddenly made eye contact with you, catching you off-guard.

his warm, soft bedsheets did no help in keeping you awake. you tried to focus on the words he was spitting out but every word entered one ear and went out the other as your eyelids began to feel heavier, and your vision slowly began to black out.

—

“dude what the fuck happened?” an unfamiliar whisper woke you up from your sleep but you ignored it, just trying to go back to your dreamland.

until you felt something absurd, someone’s warm embrace wrapped around you, your head was now resting on a pillow and an arm, and your cheek was rubbing against a wet patch of what you assumed was your drool on a white t-shirt fabric. “bro shut the fuck up, you’re gonna wake y/n up.” now, that was a familiar whisper to you. your heartbeat raced faster and faster as you made the conclusion that you were cuddling with the lee donghyuck. you internally groaned knowing that renjun will never shut up about this once you tell him. this will be his winning comeback for your future arguments. i mean, you could not tell him but what kind of best friend would you be if you didn’t inform him of the time you magically started cuddling with a man you disliked—but still enjoyed it.

“you better tell me everything later.” the whisper was a lot harsher than the first one, then silence followed after the unknown boy closed the door. you assumed he was gone but you waited to lift your head up to make it not obvious that you were awake to listen to their conversation.

“i know you’re awake.” donghyuck laughed above you, his chest rumbled against your cheek. “you stopped snoring a while ago.”

you groaned in annoyance and also in embarrassment. you slowly lifted your head up to look up at him and you were not ready to see the sight of him looking down at you with a soft smile and even messier hair, causing your heart to skip a beat. both your arms were still wrapped around each other, leaving no space between you both. “what the fuck.” you blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

donghyuck’s tired smile widened. “i should be the one asking you that. sweetheart, you’re the one who cuddled up to me first.” he enjoyed watching your face flush red in embarrassment, anger, and also by the way he looked at you so attentively. “you know, its quite rude.” he tightened his grip around you. “i’m supposed to be paying for a tutoring lesson.” he pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows, not breaking eye contact with you.

you remained looking at him with shaky eyes, not believing the situation you were in. your mouth opened, then it closed, then it opened to say something but donghyuck cut you off. “but this is so much better, my money well spent.” he sighed contently and closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head.

you could’ve protested or done anything to get out of his grip but your body stayed the way it is. “i didn’t even get to teach you one lesson, i’m sorry.” you were sincere with your apology, you wasted his time and now he’s probably gonna fail his exam if you two keep cuddling.

“i don’t care about that. i prefer this much more.” his eyes were still closed. you continued to admire his face and tried to memorize every single detail and placement of each mark. “hmmm, why don’t you take a picture?” he hummed, still keeping his eyes closed.

your hands made their way up his ear and pinched it. he let out a whine and finally opened his eyes which immediately landed directly on yours. “quit it.” you warned him.

“as you wish, darling.” his voice became lower and it almost sounded like a whisper. a soft smirk appeared on his face and his eyes were sparkling under the moonlight that shined through his window. “i love talking to you but i think i finally found something i love even more—sleeping with you.”

you opened your mouth to say something but his finger pressed against your lips to keep you quiet. he shushes you softly while he shuffled slightly to find a comfortable position, still keeping his embrace secure around you and his eyelids began to slowly drop. you admired his face once more before closing your eyes as well.

the question you asked yourself earlier today lingered in your mind before drifting off to your sleep again. is spending time with donghyuck worth fifty dollars? considering how warm he felt against you, and how you loved to hear his breathing and soft snores above you, and how perfect your body naturally molded into his embrace. you could finally answer the question confidently, yes.

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mystical-flute · 3 years

Text

Hustling For the Good Life (SFWeek Day 3)

No Curse (Our World) AU or Season 3 AU

@mysteryandnonstopfun

AO3 || FFN

Emma’s stare was harsh and aimed in the direction of her parents and Regina. “We can’t.”

There was absolutely no time to argue. Pan’s curse was steadily drawing near, the sky already taking on a dark, ominous hue, swallowing up the buildings and people that had called Storybrooke home for twenty-eight years.

“Emma, you have to go. It’s the only way to keep Henry safe!” Snow protested.

Neal turned away from the small family, and looked at Belle. “Are you going to be okay, Belle?”

“Don’t worry about me. Your father would want you and Henry to be safe, Bae,” she said. “Besides, Snow has been kind enough to allow me to stay with them… if we’re able to get back to their castle.”

So much was unknown about what was going to happen. Neal was worried he might throw up.

He put on a brave smile that he knew neither of them bought.

“You guys need to hurry!” Ruby suddenly cried, glancing over her shoulder at the purple storm clouds racing toward them. “It’s almost here!”

Neal squeezed Belle’s hand and turned to Emma and Henry. “Let’s - let’s get to safety, then.”

He should have been happy that the life he and Emma deserved to have was within his grasp, but like everything with magic, the price was too damn steep, and it wouldn’t be worth it.

They might not remember Storybrooke, but he knew the pain in Snow, David, and Regina’s eyes would never leave.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said, passing Regina on his way to the bug.

“Just keep Henry safe. Please.”

“You know we will.”

Neal gave Hook one final glance, and a single nod of acknowledgement before he got in the passenger’s seat once Henry was safely in the back. He and Emma clasped their hands over the gear shift, the familiar rumbling of the bug almost making him smile as Emma began to drive.

None of them took their eyes off the mirrors as their loved ones -

“Em? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, glancing at her. “Allergies acting up?”

Emma took her hand off his, using it to wipe her eyes before she pulled to the side of the road. “No - sorry. I just got a little overwhelmed at the thought of our apartment in Boston. We’ve lost everything, Neal. Our clothes, our furniture, our pictures - ”

“But not our lives,” he said, rubbing her back. “Emma, we’re lucky we weren’t home when the fire broke out. We can replace the stuff, but we can’t replace each other.”

Henry looked up from his game. “I’m not reenacting those baby pictures.”

Neal snort-laughed. “You don’t have to, bud. But just be aware that your mom and I might take a few extra pictures of you for the foreseeable future.”

Henry scowled, rolling his eyes, and immersed himself in Zelda again.

Emma chuckled. “New York then. Almost home.”

---

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, Henry’s cries cutting through the air.

“Healthy pair of lungs on him,” the nurse chuckled, rubbing him down. “Oh darling, it’s okay. Let’s get you to Mama, hmm?”

Emma and Neal, two terrified eighteen year olds, were in shock as the nurse laid him in Emma’s arms.

“H - hi baby…” Emma whispered as his cries slowly died down and he stared at them with wonder in his dark eyes. “I’m - I’m your mama… and that’s your daddy…”

The first year had been rough, of course. They lived in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment in Tallahassee, waitressing and whatever else they could find. They clawed and saved whatever they could, to give Henry more than what they’d had.

But more important than things, was love. Henry had two parents that loved him more than anything in the world, which is much more than Neal or Emma could say for themselves.

They were happy, most of all. Yeah the apartment was a squeeze, and there were on and off issues with bugs, but through it all, the three of them were happy.

They married when Henry was three - a small ceremony in Boston after they’d moved there for Emma’s job. He’d gotten a better job not long after that, as a photographer, and he was really, really good at it, like Emma was good at tracking down criminals.

And so the little family moved up in the world. From a one-bedroom apartment to a two bedroom, they could buy new toys and clothes for Henry instead of hoping they found something at a thrift store or garage sale. It finally felt like they were where they were meant to be.

Emma’s twenty-eighth birthday came and went, and Neal felt a twist of guilt in his gut when August’s voice echoed in his head.

The problem was, Neal hadn’t heard anything from August. No postcard, no email… nothing. No information as to where this supposed curse was?

So how was he supposed to get Emma to her supposed destiny if he didn’t know where he was going?

He had a job, a family. They couldn’t just drive across the country and hope they got lucky.

Then there had been the fire, the spring after Emma’s birthday. They’d been on a camping trip in Maine, Neal taking photos of the coast and Emma insisting Henry needed less time in front of the screen, when they’d gotten the call.

Everything in their apartment was gone, the building itself almost totally a loss.

He’d been transferred to New York.

So they’d started over, again.

New York had been good to them - incredibly so.

The magazine he’d gotten a job with had offered to pay for their rent for two months while they got new furniture and settled into the city.

Henry was thriving in school, making friends and joining the art club. It was everything Neal had ever hoped for.

And after they’d settled in, new furniture and wardrobes abound, they had received a call from one of Emma’s contacts with the NYPD. A two year old girl had been found in an abandoned apartment. No family that the cops or child services could find, and the girl didn’t say anything other than her name - Audrey.

So they’d taken her in, adoption paperwork being expedited given the strangeness of the situation.

All she had to her name was a pink baby blanket, not unlike the one Emma had.

It felt like fate, adopting Audrey the way it happened.

Or something else, but Neal pushed that thought aside as he situated her in her chair, watching as she carefully fed herself.

Emma slid into the seat next to her, a plate in her hand.

“Busy day today?” she asked.

“Nah, just editing the pictures from the Elton John concert last night. I can do it from here,” he said with a shrug, glancing over at a knock on the door. “I got it.”

When he pulled the door open, he’d wished he hadn’t.

“Baelfire.”

He felt the color drain from his face. “Hook. What the hell are you doing here?”

To his shock, Hook actually looked relieved to see him, like it hadn’t been 200 years since they saw each other. Like they had actually been friendly last he saw him. “I came to get you three, Baelfire. To take you home.”

“Home? You must be insane. I am home.”

“Emma’s parents need help, Baelfire. So does your father.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did August send you?”

Hook’s face radiated confusion. “Who’s August?”

That was a no, then, and that didn’t make Neal feel any better about Hook being here. He shouldn’t even know what he looked like - he’d been fourteen when they last saw each other! “Why should I believe you? After everything? And why would you give a damn about my father?”

“He saved my life.”

Neal laughed, then winced when he remembered Emma and Henry were only feet away. “Why would he save you ?”

Hook shrugged. “I was collaterally saved.”

“As always,” he spat.

“Dad?” Henry called. “You okay?”

“Just a second, Henry!” Neal turned back to Hook and narrowed his eyes. “Get lost. Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

Hook sighed, holding out a piece of paper. “Fine. If you change your mind, I’m staying here.”

Neal frowned as he took it, watching Hook disappear back down the hall. How had Hook been able to get a hotel room?

This was weird, and despite his instincts telling him to stay away from anything related to the Enchanted Forest, Hook had mentioned Emma’s parents. If they were involved in this, maybe there was more to Emma being left on the side of the road.

So, with Henry at school, Emma at work, and Audrey at daycare, Neal did what his brain was yelling at him not to do, and wandered to the address Hook had given him. To his surprise, it wasn’t a hotel at all, but an apartment building. He was let in no problem, and stood in front of the door.

Why was this familiar?

He pushed the door open, and resisted the urge to toss his keys on a nearby table (why had he wanted to do that?). Instead, he picked up an envelope that caught his attention, dropping it in shock.

Why was his name on it?

He left the envelope on the floor, glancing again around the apartment, and his heart stopped.

The yellow dreamcatcher he and Emma had snatched was hanging from a window. Rushing to it, he lifted it into his hands, afraid it would break.

It should have burned in the fire. How was it here?

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Hook’s voice rumbled from the doorway.

Neal spun around. “Hook, what the hell is this?”

Hook didn’t answer, instead, he pulled a vial of blue liquid from his pocket and held it out. “Your memories of the past year have been erased, Bae.”

“Neal.” He made no move to take the vial.

Hook sighed. “Neal. Please. You have to trust me.”

“Why?”

“It’s like I said - Emma’s family is in danger. A witch is plotting something against her parents. I only just escaped in time before they were sent back to Storybrooke.”

Neal bit his lip and looked around the apartment again. That might explain why he never heard from August, but getting Emma to do anything regarding her parents would be worse than pulling teeth.

He took the vial and drained it, lurching back in pain when the memories began to flood in.

Oh no.

Neal’s eyes were wide with horror as they settled down, and looked up at Hook again. “Killian…”

Killian grinned. “There you are, lad.”

“How’s Belle?”

Killian had a hesitant look on his face. “She’s… as well as she can be. Your father is alive, Bae, but he’s missing, and with Emma’s parents in danger - ”

“The witch might have something to do with it.” She probably had something to do with it, really. “What about Emma and Henry’s memories?”

Hook pulled out two more vials, his face sad. “I’m sorry I had to wake you up, Bae.”

He sighed, remembering the devastation before they’d crossed the town line, Emma’s tearful, almost childish refusal to leave her parents, and the broken look Regina had tried to hide when Henry wasn’t looking. “Don’t be. This is… going to be for the best.”

What it meant for him and Emma, time would only tell.

The Bug was quiet as they raced through the night, back to Storybrooke. Hook, Henry, and Audrey were asleep in the back, but Neal was wide awake.

“Emma…” he said quietly. “About us - ”

Her head snapped over, visible confusion on her face. “What about us?”

“I mean… the marriage, the amount of love we have for each other - ”

“False memories or not, the love I have for you is real, Neal Cassidy,” she said. “I was going to meet you at Granny’s, give you that second chance before Pan’s curse. Although… I guess that was a second chance too.”

Neal smiled, relieved. “So you wanna stay married to me?”

Emma smiled back. “Neal Cassidy, I’ll marry you in any lifetime.”

#sfweek2021 #swanfire #emma swan #neal cassidy #ouat

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samstree · 3 years

Text

Press your hands upon my heart

Geralt x Jaskier, hurt/comfort, 2k, soft geralt, hurt jaskier, married husbands, established geraskier

cw: torture aftermath, hand injuries, descriptions of broken bones.

read on AO3

Geralt loved Jaskier’s hands.

They were one of the first things Geralt noticed about him.

Years ago, back in that stingy little tavern, the bard had gesticulated throughout their one-sided opening conversation, tapping on the table between them, waving and pointing with excitement. Jaskier had extended his arms in a full-body pose as he marveled at their first adventure.

From that day on, it was his nimble fingers that strummed the lute and played songs after songs, spreading the tales of the white wolf. Even hidden at the corner of a tavern, trying to not draw attention from the audience Jaskier was entertaining, Geralt could not help but always notice those hands on the instrument and how easily they produced those captivating notes. Not that he would admit it to Jaskier until many years later.

Jaskier’s hands were beautiful.

They were long and lean, untouched by heavy labor, the unblemished skin a stark contrast to Geralt’s labyrinth of scars.

They were soft to the touch. The only calluses were at the tip of his fingers, developed from years of plucking the strings. Their gentleness eased Geralt’s pain as Jaskier bandaged a wound or applied salve on Geralt’s scratches and bruises.

They were warm and welcoming when Jaskier caressed Geralt’s face before leaning in to kiss him. These hands soothed the tension between his brows; these hands carded through his hair as he was lulled into sleep surrounded by Jaskier’s familiar scent; these hands brought pleasure that left him moaning and begging, a whimpering mess under the eyes blue as the sky.

Geralt did not understand Jaskier’s love for wearing all those ridiculous rings. The colored stones were flashy and big, weighing down Jaskier’s slim fingers. Plus, they posed an extra obstacle if Geralt wished to hold Jaskier and simply feel the solid contact. The huge gemstones dug into his palm whenever he stroked Jaskier’s soft skin looking for reassurance.

“But my love, they are the latest trend at all the royal courts. A bard as esteemed as I needs to stay in fashion.”

Jaskier chuckled, amused at Geralt’s distaste for those jewelries, but continued to collect even bigger and flashier ones.

So one day, Geralt replaced them with a simple silver ring.

By the coast of Cidaris, on a beautiful cliff overlooking the sea, Geralt put the wedding band on Jaskier and called him husband for the very first time. He then placed a solemn kiss on top of it, the silver glint a most complimenting addition for those lovely fingers.

The war with Nilfgaard still raged, but their unlikely little family of a princess, sorceresses, and wolf witchers gathered for this moment.

In this little bubble of happiness, Geralt held Jaskier close and interlocked their fingers, a silent promise to never let go.

Jaskier’s hands were the first things Geralt saw when he slammed into that prison cell.

In front of his prone, motionless body on the stone floor, his hands were stretched out. The once unblemished skin was now speckled with dried blood. Dark bruises bloomed from his wrists, all the way up to the knuckles. Some of the fingers were swollen from what must be broken bones inside, but they still twitched slightly at the sound of Yennefer’s continued fighting in the hallway.

Where their wedding band should be, was now a flayed gash that has stopped dripping blood.

Geralt was almost knocked out of breath by the stench of pain, Jaskier’s pain. Gone was the familiar scent of sweet honeysuckle and contentment, now only despair rolled off of his husband in waves.

Gathering Jaskier in his arms, he checked for other injuries and found more: cracked ribs, a broken leg, and a gash near his hairline. It seemed his hands had received the most damage. Jaskier’s eyes stayed worryingly closed when Geralt desperately tried to rouse him. Tucking away the matted hair, Geralt winced at how hot his forehead felt.

They know he’s a bard. The back of Geralt’s mind screamed, they know he’s my bard.

They hurt what was the most precious to Jaskier, and Geralt seethed.

Geralt secured Jaskier’s hands in front of his torso, careful not to jostle the battered bones, and propped him up to lean against his chest. In the hallway, Yennefer cleared out the last of the soldiers and rushed in.

“Yen. His hands.” He pleaded.

Yennefer examined Jaskier’s hands with magic and the flow of chaos seemed to pain him even in unconsciousness. Jaskier whimpered and burrowed further in the crook of Geralt’s neck.

“It’s really bad, Geralt.” Yennefer’s expression was still calm but Geralt could see she was affected by the extent of it. “My chaos is almost depleted. I’m not sure how much I can do right now.”

“Do what you can. Please.”

“This is going to hurt,” Yennefer warned and started working her magic.

Geralt murmured into Jaskier’s ear as the pain built up, but it offered no comfort. With the crack of bones being reset, Jaskier woke screaming and writhing against Geralt’s chest, hitched breathing racking his body violently.

There was nothing Geralt could do but hold him tighter.

Four days held in that Nilfgaardian prison took more than forty for Jaskier to heal. Or at least on the outside.

The lacerated skin on his forearms and wrists turned into a canvas of newly formed scars, jarringly red and sensitive to the touch. The broken leg and ribs eventually regained strength after weeks of physical therapy and exercise.

As soon as they brought him back to Kaer Morhen, Yennefer knitted back the broken bones inside Jaskier’s hands, and continued to heal them with magic. Yet there was only so much she could do.

The damage to the soft tissues and ligaments was already festering when they rescued him. During the first few days, the searing pain would often flare up and keep him from any real sleep, leaving Jaskier delirious in his fevered state.

After those days, Geralt developed a habit of gently massaging the spasms out of Jaskier’s muscles. He would unfurl Jaskier’s constricting fists, kneading out the knots with the cream that the bard loved so much – honeysuckle and lavender. The warmth from Geralt’s larger hands soothed the aches, more or less depending on the day, so he made it a mission to reach for Jaskier whenever he had the chance.

Geralt wished he could erase all the hurt inflicted on his husband, but nature had to take its course.

After forty days recovering in Kaer Morhen, Jaskier was almost back to full health except for when the joints in his hands creaked and made him tremble in agony.

“Thank you, my love,” Jaskier said sleepily.

They lied face-to-face on their shared bed in the keep. Jaskier was already drifting off, his hands soft and pliant, wrapped in Geralt’s palms as if this could shield them from the hurt within.

“Anytime.”

He shouldn’t be thanking me. Geralt kissed a faded scar on a knuckle. I’m the one who couldn’t protect him.

Jaskier’s hands were still beautiful.

The backs of his hands were now marred with faded scars that itched when rubbed too hard. So Geralt made him gloves with soft silk to protect the delicate patch of skin. Jaskier had brightened with joy and gave him a massive smooch for being ‘the most thoughtful husband on the Continent’. The dark blue fabric now accompanied Jaskier everywhere.

His wrists moved with an unprecedented carefulness, all the dramatic gestures reigned in to avoid aggravating the long-lasting injuries. Though Jaskier never stopped talking with his hands, adding to his emotions when he got carried away. The movements, albeit subdued, were still the most beautiful dance in Geralt's eye.

Jaskier couldn’t wear his wedding band anymore.

With Yennefer’s help, Geralt found another ring to replace the one that was lost during Jaskier’s capture. At the time, Jaskier had put it on with a most contented grin, like something was returned to its home.

But the joints in his fingers too often ached in the cold wind of the Blue Mountains, sometimes even swelled up with inflammation. One day the bloating suddenly worsened, and they had to cut out the silver band before putting him on ice for the rest of the day.

Jaskier looked so defeated that night, fidgeting and stroking the empty base of his ring finger. When Geralt gathered him in an embrace, he retreated into himself even further.

“I don’t need a ring to know that you are mine.” Geralt tried.

“Thank you.” Jaskier’s breath shuddered. That seemed to be all he said these days. “But I just need something to be normal again.”

With that, Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s neck and let out a silent sob. His tears soaked through Geralt’s shirt as they both rocked slowly back and forth, a wordless companionship of shared powerlessness.

One thing about Jaskier’s hands never changed.

They still knew how to love Geralt.

With stolen touches and reassuring squeezes, Jaskier never ceased to convey the depth of his feelings despite his weakened movements.

He would still open his inviting arms for a hug and absent-mindedly stroke the nape of Geralt’s neck. He would still wash the grime out of Geralt’s hair with the soap he knew didn’t bother the witcher’s sensitive nose. He would card through those silver locks when they were both plagued by insomnia – a common occurrence now that Jaskier frequently screamed awake with nightmares – to calm his own racing heart while giving a silent apology for waking Geralt up.

These were still the same hands when they traced every line on Geralt’s body, mapping out all the plains and ridges of old scars. As Jaskier traveled across his body, Geralt shuddered with tears blurring his vision.

He never understood why Jaskier would worship his scars, why he memorized them by touch and kissed them with soft lips, as if they were the most precious things on earth, until now.

Now Geralt did the exact same thing to the scattered marks on Jaskier’s body in return, tracing the lines with everything he had. Now Geralt shared the sentiment that, maybe, he could erase the hurt retroactively with all the tenderness he poured into the contact.

“You are being sappy again.” Jaskier kissed away the tears on Geralt’s cheeks, his palm cupping the side of Geralt’s face.

“I just – I never knew I could love someone so much.”

Geralt had to look quite an embarrassing sight, tearing up in the middle of an intimate moment. But Jaskier only melted at his words, the blue of his eyes flowing with adoration.

“I love you too, you ridiculous man.”

Geralt woke to the strumming of lute.

It was the first time since Jaskier’s rescue that he picked up the instrument. The melody was slow and haunting, an old love song in Elder. Jaskier hummed along with his back to their bed.

Geralt sat up quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. He watched Jaskier take measured movements when handling the lute, gripping the handle just a little too tightly.

The old songs soon warmed him up for fervent composing. As if struck by sudden inspiration, Jaskier started singing new verses over and over again while scribbling in his notebook. Then he scratched something before trying a different line. From the short distance, Geralt smelled the familiar scent of excitement and realized how much he’d missed it.

The music and scratches of quill nearly lulled Geralt back to sleep, until a dissonant chord struck, followed by a pained gasp.

Jaskier was hunched over his lute, breathing through what must be another bout of cramps.

“Hey, Jaskier. Easy.”

With a few long strides, Geralt reached Jaskier and knelt in front of him. He pried away the lute and notebook and started massaging Jaskier’s trembling hands. Slowly opening the clenched fists, Geralt began the motion he knew by heart, kneading out the tension bit by bit.

Every time pressure was applied on the knots, Jaskier shook all over, pained, whimpering.

“You are doing so good, Jask,” Geralt cooed and apologized, easing his mind with murmured encouragement.

Finally, he pressed a chaste kiss to each knuckle, giving them equal attention, before cradling Jaskier’s now relaxed hands right above his heart to warm them up.

“Alright?”

Geralt looked up to Jaskier. The storm in his features had passed, leaving only a tired, timid smile. His glassy eyes were filled with softness only reserved for Geralt.

“We will be, love.”

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday26 #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #soft geralt #soft jaskier #hurt/comfort

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ohmyitsfaith · 4 years

Text

Sudoku-Saturdays

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: "hi! well i just read something from you of five and i loved it! i was hoping to request smth where th reader is mexican? and five starts liking how she swears in spanish but is in denial? and idk you could write whatever prompt you like you’re a genius, maybe some angst to fluff? ilysm! thank you!" -Requested by bagel(🥯) anon

Warnings: I think nothing? Only the usual swearing

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: Well... I think after reading this, you’ll agree with me that I’m not a language genius. If I messed up something in spanish, please correct me. I used google translate. But I really hope you guys like it!

When Five met you, he would’ve bet, that your mother language was English. You spoke fluently and easily like it was no one’s business. So when you first cursed in Spanish, he was shocked to say the least. Now, it wasn’t like one word, no! It was full sentences which he wished he would understand. And when you saw his amazed face you let out that giggle he oh so adored.

But let’s not get that far. He would never admit it to even himself that he liked you. Not to mention you. For one, he was scared. Scared of what you’ll say and scared of what his siblings. Not that he cared about what his siblings would say… no… It’s his business anyway, not theirs. Well that’s what he kept saying to himself.

“Que cojones?!” your voice cut through his thoughts. (What the fuck?!)

He looked up from his book, right at your frustrated form. You were solving a Sudoku and you were getting madder and madder as none of your methods worked. You erased the whole thing again and restarted it. Five giggled quietly and stood up. He walked over to you and stood over you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Does it look like?” you glared at him.

Five rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair next to you. He leaned over, so he could help and that action sent a blush up both of your cheeks.

“Okay, so have you tried going by rows?” he asked softly, resting his chin in his hand.

“Yes and it didn’t turn out good. Somewhere along the line, I fucked it up” you sighed, your accent thickening as your frustration grew.

“Okay… have you tried going by columns then?”

“Yes, I tried that as well. Again, fucked up.”

“Squares?”

“I cannot work like that” you shook your head.

“Then we shall try all three at the same time” he let out a small smile and you were quick enough to catch it.

You smiled back at him then sighed, picking up the pencil again. With Five’s help, you slowly worked on the Sudoku. A long time passed, enjoying each other’s company, solving Sudoku after Sudoku. You swapped ideas and also just talked about stuff in general.

The Sudoku afternoon turned out to be great and you both decided that you should make every Saturday a Sudoku-Saturday. That decision seemed to be a win, since you got to spend time together as friends but also, it caused Five to think more about his feelings that he was still reluctant to admit to himself.

One time, Five was nowhere to be found. You were sitting in the library and waiting for him to join, mindlessly sketching beside the Sudoku squares, careful not to mess up anything. You waited for almost an hour and slowly the sketch turned out to be Five. You only noticed it, when a voice brought you out of your deep thoughts.

“I’m sorry I was late.”

You looked up and saw your friend. You smiled at him softly and shrugged.

“I was just taking a nap and it turned longer than I expected to” he said, pulling his chair out and sitting next to you.

“It’s no big deal. It’s not like we don’t have time” you smiled.

“What did you do while I was absent?” Five asked.

“Oh, I…” you stopped, looking down on the paper. “I- I guess I drew you? I honestly didn’t pay any attention to what I was doing.”

Five furrowed his brows and looked at the paper in front of you. It really was him. And it wasn’t a bad sketch either. It had captured his jawline and cheekbones perfectly, not to mention the details like his eyebrows or the little dimple that showed when he smiled.

“This is amazing! I didn’t know you were so good at drawing!” he said, the amazement showing in his voice.

“Oh, it’s merely a sketch, it’s nothing to be amazed about” you dismissed shyly.

“But it really is. It’s brilliant. Look, you did my awful jawline and cheekbones perfectly.”

“You have a beautiful jawline, Five” you said, looking at him.

He looked into your eyes and saw something he didn’t notice until that. The look in your eyes suggested that his feelings are returned, but he was still reluctant to admit it.

“Eres hermoso, Five” you said softly. (You’re beautiful)

Although he didn’t understand it, it felt like a compliment. His heart started racing as he glanced down at your lips then back at your eyes. Your gaze was soft, he’d almost say loving. You both started leaning in and slowly you closed your eyes. Your lips met in the middle, in the softest kiss. His hands almost immediately flew up to your cheek and pulled your face closer to his as he proceeded to deepen the kiss he sought for so long. And only now dared he acknowledge the love he felt for you.

You sighed contently into the kiss, feeling like you finally arrived home. His lips were so soft on top of yours and it felt like they finally found each other after many lifetimes. Like you found each other after many lifetimes.

“Te quiero” you whispered softly onto his lips, not daring to separate from the warmth that it spread through your veins. (I love you)

Five wanted to ask you what it meant, but he felt like if he gets separated from your lips, you’ll disappear forever. So he just pressed his lips on your again, in a more hungry kiss. Your breath hitched at the raw energy that radiated from the boy. And as you ran your tongue against his lower lip, you felt the familiar nausea that hit you every time Five brought you with him in a spatial jump. Your suspicion was verified when you fell back.

Five landed on you and you both looked around. You were in the kitchen, lying on the floor. A laugh broke out of you as your realized what just happened.

“That’s new” Five said, clearing his throat.

“Really?” you asked sarcastically, sitting up and looking at the flustered boy.

“Shut up” he mumbled, his blush darkening.

“Come here” you pulled him closer to you by his tie and pecked his lips before hugging him.

“I hate you” he mumbled as a giggle rose from your chest.

“I was pretty sure that kiss suggested the opposite of that” you teased him.

“No, I hate you.”

“Well that’s a shame” you sighed. “Because I love you, querido.” (darling)

“Okay, you’ll need to teach me some Spanish” he sighed, looking up at you.

“We have all the time in the world” you looked down at him, smiling softly.

He stood up and pulled you up as well. He looked down at you, holding your hands.

“I love you” he said softly.

“I love you too” you said and rising to your tiptoes, you kissed him again.

The random spatial jumps continued to happen whenever your kisses got heated, but you didn’t really mind as you could see your (now) boyfriend flustered, which you found cute. You also kept up your Sudoku-Saturdays even though they were now filled with spontaneous kissing as well. Life was taking a turn for the better as time went on and you couldn’t be happier.

[Masterlist]

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x y/n #the umbrella academy five #tua x reader #tua x you #tua x y/n #tua five

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dovveling · 3 years

Text

Lucio/Iolas - Wedding Proposal

(I really liked my long ass answer to the love ask about their proposal so i wanted to make it it’s own post that way y’all can ready it easier--)

The sun hung low in the sky as Lucio makes his way to the palace gardens. He has asked Iolas to meet him out by their favorite spot in the garden maze. the blonde smiles remembering how the two of them had found the hidden spot while goofing around and shoving each other into the hedges. It wasn't until one hard push sent Lucio through the hedge that he had found it. He fully expected to land on his ass but instead he found himself on the other side of a portal with Iolas calling for him from the other side.

Quickly Lucio ushered the other man through the portal and the two looked over a hidden meadow that seemed to be somewhere close to the center of the maze. Lucio could picture it perfectly; the stark white gazebo in the center, the perfect sun rays that sprinkled the fluffy grass and the willow tree with its small leaves that dripped and trickled. He fondly reminisced when the wind would blow and the tendrils of the willow would tickle up the wooden beams of the gazebo and scare Iolas into laughter every time the leaves would brush against his lover.

As Lucio draws closer to the portal he stops right before he enters and stares at the ring he had spent hours picking out. He had never fussed so much over a gift for someone. It was a first for him to worry about gift-giving, because anything he picked out was glamorous and simply perfect. This however wasn't just a gift.

It was a question.

Which meant it had to be perfect. Every time he would think he was close to choosing a ring he would look and see a flaw. A flaw that Iolas had the potential see. Which if he did meant the possibility of Lucio never getting to hear the answer he so desperately wants to the question He’s so nervous to ask.

So many times Lucio doubled back on himself about the proposal. Is this just too much? His mind would race. Could he see himself getting married again when his last marriage was such a failure? Then he would hear it. Iolas' laugh. Followed by the heart warming memories of the sunlight hitting the coffee skin of his lover. Afterwards every reservation burned away and was replaced with a deep desire to make this person his and only his.

Clinging to his new found confidence Lucio steels himself as he pockets the ring, almost dropping the bottle of champagne he forgets he was holding. As he pushes through the portal the blonde's heart skips a little at the sight of his lover resting on the side of the white gazebo. He’s wearing a white robe that Lucio had gotten commissioned to match his iconic white suit. The sight of it sets his heart running, he now knows the other dressed up just for him. As Lucio walks closer he can tell his lover seems to be lost in thought. He watched the other man’s crimson eyes gaze over the tree line, transfixed on something invisible as their thoughts dictate their face. It isn’t until Lucio steps closer and knocks on the wood with a playful tune that his lover acknowledges that the count has walked into the meadow. Lucio’s wolfish smile triggers a similar grin on his lover’s face.

"Hi, my Darling--" Iolas starts before pulling Lucio over by his collar to meet their lips together. With a giggle Iolas watches Lucio hop over the median of the gazebo instead of using the very close opening that's just a little be over to the side of them. Lucio tries to steady his face, but he can’t help that he’s excited. He doesn't want to come off too eager or nervous, but Lucio can tell his poker face failed as Iolas gives him a curious look. "What are you planning? I know that look."

Lucio however holds his hands up in defense after he places the bottle of champagne down on the railing in front of them. "Why do I always have to be up to something huh? Can't a man just meet his lover in a secret hole in the woods for some late-night drinking and maybe a little late-night macking?" the blonde throws the magician a wink, which is met with a playful smack that Lucio is all too found of.

"Did you bring glasses, Oh Count of Macking?" Iolas teases with a click of his tongue and to that Lucio's face freezes for a second. The easily distracted count did not think about the glass part of drinking, but his shock lasts for a split second before he nudges his lover with an elbow and a cheeky grin. "Can't you just magic something up for us--" Before Lucio can even finish Iolas throws his head back, his whole body shakes with a genuine laugh. One that Lucio only sees when Iolas reacts to his particular stupidity. "Absolutely not. I cannot manifest glassware, but fret not Lulu I prepared for this." The silver-haired man stands on the railing of the gazebo and reaches up behind one of the posts and brings down two champagne glasses. Lucio amused at this helps the shorter man down before taking both glasses and leaning down to give his lover a short kiss on the head.

Snickering to himself Lucio places the glasses down and pops open the champagne. "See? Who needs magic when you have a lover who has the spirit of a squirrel. Why are those even up there?" Iolas can't seem to hold back his laugher and starts into a long dialogue about how the last party they hosted he was tasked with disposing of all the drinks Lucio downed after getting into a drinking match with Julian. At some point he got too fed up hauling all the empty glass wear to and fro so he eventually gave up and used the portal which was much closer than the garbage. Soon as he finishes that story Lucio makes note that not only does he not remember this drinking contest at all, but he also notices that the whole upper layer of the Gazebo is littered with small drinking glasses of all shapes and sizes.

After the two of them laugh at the absurdity of the situation the couple dive into a comfortable speed of talking. Slowly they unravel the days events to each other, to which Lucio adds more flavor by introducing the drinks. The sun finally settles and the garden lights flicker on and thanks to all the glass wear in the gazebo small reflected lights scattered within their own space. Slowly the stories of their day dwindle and eventually, they huddle close to each other so they can look under the top of their gazebo and point out stars. Lucio watches the small warm lights bounce off his lover's face and his heart races. He can't chicken out now.

"Iolas." Lucio stops the silver-haired man mid-sentence as the other was going on about his zodiac sign and how it will be visible in the sky soon until he hears his name.

Iolas pauses fully, not use to hearing his full name exit his lover's lips unless it was during a more intimate and scandalous situation. So he hides his hesitation with a smile and he answers the blonde with the same tone he just used but exaggerated with a deeper tone to lighten the mood. "Lucio." The count starts to fidget but just laughs when Iolas mocks his serious tone. "No really, uh... Listen for a second." Iolas' face now turns from curious to worried. " Uh oh. that's a real serious tone. What did you do?" Lucio brushes him off, biting his lip and rubs the back of his neck. He feels so lame doing this, but that's the point.

Lucio stands up straight taking Iolas' hands, looking directly into those red eyes. For a second Lucio’s mind feels erased. It was as if looking into his lovers eyes reset every word he had planned out, but the ring sits heavy in his pocket. So he tried and opens his mouth only to close it so he can bring Iolas' cold fingers to his lips, unable to find his words just yet.

Iolas' however is completely taken aback. His lover has been romantic before but he was much more used to their back a forth of one-upping each other and superficial compliments they would glob onto each other. Their usual dynamic coupled with nightly flings where he ended up in the blonde's bed, made the sudden tenderness unsettling.

The magician could feel that dark feeling creep to his shoulders. The one that would say he shouldn't get his hopes up, that he's happy filling the count's time till he finds a real suitor. Even if Lucio was a temporary General at the palace he was still a completely different status then Iolas and Royals don't have court magician as suitors. So his hopes remained low but he was happy to bide his time with Lucio. However little it would be. Iolas had to admit even with the teasing and snarky remarks that sometimes get out of hand he loved and even craved the other man's company. Sadly, love doesn't change status. Love doesn't guarantee a happy ending. His a master when it comes to disappointment and had learned his lesson the hard way.

So It was the last thing Iolas' expected when the taller man pulls out the biggest ring the magician has ever seen and gets down on one knee. Iolas' first thought is to pinch himself so he can wake up. Then when air fills his lungs he realizes he’s awake and this is happening. More than happening, he's been silent for far too long. All he can hear is the stinging sound of his building anxiety attack banging around in his head. The buzz is deafening and He can see that Lucio is speaking but he can't hear him.

You will just disappoint him. Iolas' thoughts curse. Better yet he'll disappoint you. A shaky breath leaves him and all he can do is blink and look at Lucio with watery eyes. "I-- I'm sorry please can you say that again." Iolas stops and closes his eyes just so he doesn't have to look at the ring that's almost blinding with its meaning.

Lucio's normal wolfish grin falters but only returns once he hears Iolas speak. "I said. We should get hitched, ya know?" Lucio sputters, shit. "Look. Like I was saying we're surrounded by losers, Pet. Who else am I gonna get to match me other than you huh? come on, look at me—“ he gestures to his hair and outfit before continuing “Then look at you! we're perfect for each other.. ya know?" Lucio now looks nervous as he speaks. Unable to keep eye contact. “..and.. I love your laugh."

This seems to pull Iolas' from his anxiety a little even enough to get him to let out a weak laugh. "What? what does that have to do with anything?" Lucio pouts and glares at his lover just a tiny bit. "I love your laugh! and I don't want anyone else to have it. I deserve it, I get you to do it most and I think you owe me. So like.." Lucio ushers Iolas' to the ring, his legs are starting to buckle. "I wouldn't admit this to anyone else but my knees aren't what they use to be so can we--" Iolas stops him with a curt turn, his shoulders shaking.

The blonde stands at his lovers reaction his whole body rigid. This was it. The rejection he warned himself about. He's ruined everything, his heart screams to take it all back. Iolas is probably laughing at the proposal and Lucio's tacky way of offering himself. It isn't until the sound of a stuffy nose echo through the silent night that Lucio realizes his lover is crying and instantly he steps forward a different kind of fear gripping his heart. " W-wait-- wait, why are you crying? You never cry--" He falters and fidgets his hands around his lover unsure if he wants to be held or not.

Iolas turns finally, his red puffy eyes are turned down in a grimace as they glisten in the dim light. "Yeah, you idiot I never cry and look at what you made me do." His tone is harsh but it's followed by a sad shake that ruins any intention of anger. "Lucio I... I don't know how to do this." Lucio's heart slows but he's thrown for a loop and Iolas can sense his confusion and clears his throat as he wipes his leaking eyes. "No one has ever, wanted me like this before. I don't know if I can-- How do you know you want this? What if I disappoint you? What if you get tired of me and regret ever meeting me? At least if we keep things like before you can just get rid of me if I'm too much and I won't have to--" Lucio stops Iolas this time as he brings his lover close by pulling on his crossed arms.

"You won't have to worry about falling in love?" The blonde answers with his own sense of sadness, his eyes looking down at their feet before meeting with Iolas' who only nods in response. Lucio is a bit thankful that his lover didn't outright say no and is at least contemplating the idea of things. "I had the same thoughts and honestly I don't know how I'm sure. I just... am." Lucio's normal bravado comes back now that he feels more secure in the conversation. "I know that I love seeing you every day. I know that I love sleeping with you every night. I know that I don't want anyone else to hold you the way I hold you and I know that you feel the same way about me." At that the blonde swallows hoping he isn't wrong. "But mostly I know I don't ever want you to leave. If you were to go, do you know how fucking boring this place would be? I would set the parlor on fire within minutes of you being gone." The cheeky grin is back and Iolas snorts at the idea and manages a smile as he is now fully embraced by his lover.

Lucio rests his head on top the shorter man’s and hums, kissing the top of it. Slowly he pulls Iolas back so he can look down at him. "But it's not just about what I want... you kinda need to want those things too." Now it's Iolas turn to nervously look away and slowly as the shorter man's courage builds he tightens his grip on Lucio's jacket and more tears roll down his face as the realization comes crashing onto him that he'd do anything to be with the man in front of him. Before He can answer he shoves his face into Lucio's jacket rubbing his head back and forth on the soft fabric. "You moron-- Of course I want all that."

The blonde can't resist the urge to tease the other man however and laughs to himself. "I'm sorry, could you say that again I couldn't hear you from inside my jacket." Iolas hits the taller man's chest with a laugh before he goes to wipe his damp eyes yet again. "You know for a fact that I said YES-- urgh, gods look at what you did to my make up how the hell am I going to fix this now--" Iolas' whining is stopped short by his lover picking him up in a searing kiss that continues as the blonde twirls them both. With a firm grip on Iolas' waist Lucio looks up at the magician with a smile that could blind the gods. "I wanna hear you say it." Iolas rolls his eyes at that. With most of his face red as a beet, a large pout crosses the silver-haired man's lips. He kicks his legs from his newfound lifted position.

"I have zero idea what you're talking about--" Iolas protests but Lucio shakes his head. "Say it or you are never leaving this gazebo." Iolas is about to rebuttal but the look in Lucio's eyes is that yes he is serious. Iolas' expression softens, even if it's despite himself. "Of course I'll marry you, LuLu." Lucio whispers a soft ‘yes!’ Before he bounces in his spot and spins the both of them once again but this time continues to spin around the whole gazebo. The blonde’s laughing slowly raises to excited cackling as they spin. Iolas can only laugh back and struggle against the crazy man holding him. "Stop--! Lulu Stop! we're gonna--" but it's too late. Lucio's legs trip over themselves and with zero grace they both tumble onto the hardwood floor.

Iolas rolls onto his back and groans, dizzy and sore his eyes dart over to the man beside him who is just as dazed. Slowly Iolas entwines their hands with a smile and Lucio is about to kiss his lover's fingers before he remembers the ring. The blonde springs forward, getting up like the fall meant absolutely nothing. Iolas however takes his time sitting up as his lover fumbles to find the ring he dropped.

Soon as it's found Lucio slides over, the scraping sound of the taller man's pants on the hardwood makes the magician giggle. Iolas has to give the other man sheer points for his enthusiasm. Pompously Iolas sticks his left hand out, to which Lucio plays along and kisses the other man's ring finger dramatically before slipping the large ring onto Iolas' hand.

Carefully Iolas' holds his hand out to the light and observes the sheer size of the ring and can't help but grin. Lucio practically radiates waves of anticipation. His cheeks flushed from their recent spinning but his eyes sparkle and scream that they crave his lovers attention.

"Was this the biggest ring they had?" Iolas wiggles his fingers, acting as if he's unimpressed. Lucio simply feeds back into him. "How dare you." He sneers, pulling Iolas into his lap as he sits, unable to be on his knees any longer. "I had this one custom ordered. Not only is it the biggest ring in stores, but it's also the biggest wedding ring, period." He speaks into the shorter man's neck before he kisses it, The count's tone never faltering. The very idea of that sends Iolas into a giggle fit. He knows for a fact that this ring physically cannot be the biggest ring ever but another part of him can see Lucio putting up a fight with store owners about the pitiful size of their rings to the point where he just orders them to make him a whole new size.

"Of course, I knew my Lulu would only get me the best. He’s not capable of anything less." Lucio preens in the praise and Iolas strokes the back of his fingers against his lover's face. For a moment they stay like that, both of them processing what exactly just happened and what this means for their future. Iolas is the first to break the silence with a soft hum as he presses against Lucio's chest. "Thank you... Lucio." the taller man responds by nuzzling his nose into the shorter man's hair with a confused hum. "I never thought I could do this...” Iolas voice wavers but only slightly as he takes Lucios hand in his. The weight of the ring feels odd but strangely comforting. “... but for the first time, I'm not scared." Lucio smiles at that. and squeezes his lover in his arms.

"Good. We can be fearless together."

#lucio x mc #lucio x apprentice #count lucio #lucio the arcana #oc talk #Iolas Leolynn #my writing #if you got the time please lemme know how I did-- I'm not the best at editing so please excuse my errors!!#i'm dying to know what my other oc moots think tho pls lemme know

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saidrolav · 3 years

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Calcu-lust.

Highschool!Sam Wilson x gn!reader

Summary: You think you're done with relationships since your last ex but you fall harder than ever for a guy in your math class.

Warnings: none! pure fluff! 🧡

a/n: Hiii! Just felt like writing some Highschool AU for no reason, this has been inspired by the song stupid with love from the musical Mean Girls, hope you'll like it!

not my gif!

You were near your locker when Wanda talked to you for the first time of your day. Wanda was the first one that had introduced herself to you, she was the first friend you had made at your school and you were happy she did, she was the most wonderful bestfriend anyone could ask for. She was here for you at any time, the two of you were spending nights listening to music, dancing like crazy and watching movies together, she was the nicest. Not too long ago, she had decided that her mission was to find you a lover. Since you knew her, you have never been in a relationship because of your last ex that hurted you. Wanda loved talking about boys and girls at your school even if you, not so much, you weren't really attracted to anybody. This morning at 8am, at the start of the day, when you were already tired, she obviously had to talk to you about her mission of finding you a partner.

"Wanda!" You had cutted her in the middle of the list of people she found attractive and she looked at you with wide eyes. You checked quickly around you and found some of the students looks on you, you almost just shouted on the corridor and you lowered your voice quickly. "As i said, i'm over it. I used to crush easily in the past, but i'm done with that." She nodded furiously as you talked, drinking every word you were saying. "No more falling for people at the drop of a hat, i'm focusing on school and my future." She rolled her eyes while sighing. You putted your backpack on your shoulder and closed your locker while smiling at her disappointed face.

As you were about yo go for your first class, you heard a couple of whispers in the corridor. Wanda looked around, she seemed to have heard those too because she was investigating the crowd with her eyes to see what was happening, she loved gossiping. Even if you two were searching what was arriving, you both knew what was coming, or rather, who were coming.

It took no time before Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were walking through the corridor, meeting you and Wanda's gazes, sending chills down your spine. The three guys were pretty popular at your school, each one for a different reason. Steve was popular for being pretty good in sports and good looking, tall, blonde, blue eyes, girls and boys were falling for him all around the school. He was a huge victim of gossips, there was always at least once a week a new gossip about him dating someone but the truth is, Steve was super sweet, caring and gentle with everyone but not a lot into dating.

Sam was just as known by everyone, he was also good in sports and extremely funny, the man always had to crack a joke when he could, making people laugh would bright up his day. He was less victim of gossip because he was talking to the whole school and was making sure everyone was feeling at ease around him.

Bucky was the less popular of the three of them, mostly because he was the most introverted of the three. He was really shy but harsh when he talked and he truly wasn't afraid of telling what he tought. The brunette was a truly different person when you were seeing him at lunch with Sam and Steve, letting out laughs from the heart. You only shared one class with James and he was always at the back of the class, drawing sketches furiously in his copybooks in silence.

The three of them passed by you and Wanda. Sam gave you a huge smile and a wave without stopping his tracks. You could only hear his voice echoing in your ears: "Sup, Wanda, Y/N,". Your blood was rushing to your cheeks, these blushing furiously. This man had so much confidence, it was intimidating. Your hands held tighter the strap of your backpack as you watched him walk away, biting your lower lip. You didn't even saw Steve giving you a polite smile and Buck giving a quick glance on your direction, they didn't stopped and followed Sam quickly as your mind was still racing of this insignificant gesture.

"So turned out, you were lying. You still fall for people with a drop of a hat." Your head snapped in Wanda's direction. She was already looking at you with a knowing look, a smirk and wiggling eyebrows. You chuckled before rolling your eyes and going to your first class of the day without waiting for her. "You won't get away with that so easily Y/N ! It's my mission!" You laughed once again and went in your science class.

Your day passed slowly and it made you even more tired as the hours were advancing. You slowly made your way to your last class, exhausted as ever. As you were about to enter the classroom you stood in the doorway, all of your tiredness going away as you saw Sam Wilson sitting at your desk. You stood there for a couple of milliseconds that felt like hours while staring at him, then you realized you might look like a creep so you went to sit just behind him without saying anything. He didn't realized you were staring at him, to your biggest satisfaction.

You knew Sam was in your class, it wasn't the surprise. The surprise was that he sat somewhere else than his usual seat, and at your own usual place. Actually, you never saw him much in your math class, mostly because he was always in the back. You only knew he had good grades because teachers would always congratulate him, but he always seemed like he wasn't listening in class. He was a nice and funny guy who could talk with anyone easily but in class he wasn't that much of a trouble maker. What were you thinking about ? He probably didn't even noticed he sitted at your desk.

You were wrong. Sam knew exactly where you sitted because he already saw you a couple of times in this class or at lunch and he thought you were mesmerizing, because, he was, in fact, mesmerized by you. Your laugh, your smile, the way your were talking. At first, he thought you didn't wanted of a guy like him. Loud, noisy, attracting everyone's attention, but when Steve told him this morning the way you were looking at him, boy, his heart beat faster, a huge smile took over his features and he felt like the happiest man on Earth. You were looking at him, the way he did. As soon as he heard what the blonde said to him, he thought about you all day and for him, the day passed really quickly. He was going to ask you out on a date at the end of this class, and he would do everything he could, starting as you walked by the door.

You putted on your desk your pencil case and everything you needed for your math class, he did the same. You were watching his every moves closely, a bit lost in your toughts. The class started and you tried to focus, you really did, but with such a beautiful man in front of you, you soon met your toughts again. That's why you were so surprised when he made eye contact with you.

"Do you have an eraser ?" He smiled angelically and you knew you were screwed.

"I would love to.." You answered mindlessly as you were putting, in his hand, your own eraser. He chuckled at your answer, that's when you realized how dumb sounded your response. As your hands touched you felt an electric shock running through your veins and your cheeks became crimson at the contact. He used your eraser briefly before putting it back on your table with a quick "thanks".

You didn't even liked your math class that much, but who were you to complain when such an astonishing man was sitting in front of you, math class was becoming slowly your favourite. Thanks maths for giving you the right to put your eyes on Sam Wilson.

You were studying the back of his head curiously, watching his dark hair, his skin, what he was wearing closely, you wouldn't miss a sight of him, you were so close his cologne was tickling your nose and, it smelt amazing.

You were listening as his soothing voice was talking with confidence answering the questions of the teacher, filling the room that was usually in the silence. The man was really smart, and it only made your heart swell even more. He looked like he was straight out of a romance TV show and you just couldn't keep your eyes off of him. Your eyes went lower and you saw his hands playing easily with his pen, his arms showing that work out had been done and before you could continue to observe him, the bell rang and he was leaving in seconds making you sigh as you packed up your things. You've been studying him instead of your maths the whole hour and now you were completely lost in the lesson. You putted your backpack on your shoulders and exited the classroom and your whole body stopped in the middle of the corridor because he didn't left.

He was here. Waiting for someone. When his eyes found yours a giant smile took over his lips and you bit yours. He was walking over someone else behind you right ? Not you right now, he was coming no time to think!

He took a big breath before talking, "Please don't interrupt me because i've been searching what i'm about to say the whole class," you both chuckled before he continued, "So, Hi? Okay so," he cleared his throat, "I think you're very cool and i wanted to know if we could go on a date sometime, maybe grab something to eat or watch a movie togerher, no pressure don't feel obligated to say yes, just... tell me what you think you know." He let out a shaky laugh as he fidgeted akwardly with his fingers before looking back at you. Damn, Sam Wilson was asking you on a date, that was a big deal because he was nervous and never he was, but how could you say no ? You've been admiring him from afar for way too long and he just admitted he was also doing so.

"Yeah, i'd love to go on a date with you sometime Sam." You smiled sweetly at him and you searched fastly in your backpack before taking out your marker. He was super excited and had a giant smile on his face, his heart was beating so fast he thought he might get out of his cage. "I don't have a paper it's okay if i write on the back of your hand ?" You cocked an eyebrow at him and he nodded eagerly. You wrote your number on the back of his hand as you said and as soon as your skin touched again, that electric wave going trough your body came back faster than ever, your smile growing even bigger. You definitly thought it was love at first sight, and that it was what soulmates were experiencing.

You looked at him when you finished writing, he looked more happy than ever and it made your cheeks blush. You putted your marker back in your bag and a couple of seconds passed just where Sam and you were staring at each other with a huge smile. Then he finally talked.

"I should probably go.. I'll tell you when we'll plan our date ?" He looked at you as you nodded in silence, you approached him and gave him a kiss on the cheek before doing a quick wave of the hand "See ya, Wilson." and disappearing in the corridor. Otherwise Sam stood there a couple of minutes caressing with his cheek where you kissed him with the tip of his fingers. He came back to him, realizing what happened and he jumped in the air like a kid, even doing a little dance of joy, running towards Steve and Bucky, ready to tell them everything.

You however you joined Wanda that gave you a knowing look. "I know, i said i'm over it but-" She cutted you with an excited squeak and took you in her arms. "I'm so happy for you! You don't even need me to find a boyfriend!" You laughed and she did so too.

You couldn't wait for your date, and you couldn't wait for your next math class.

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firstfullmoon · 4 years

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hi, I absolutely adore your blog! I see that sometimes you share compilations of quotes. I was wondering if you had one about tenderness? :-) one of my favourites is Siken's "but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for."

this is a rather large theme but here are some quotes and poems I love that give me the same kind of feeling:

“I feel in myself now a faint, a dreadful stirring of what so overwhelmingly stirred in me then, great thirsty heat, and trembling, and tenderness so painful I thought my heart would burst.”

— James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

“All day I did things fast picking up leaves scrubbing a saucepan clean racing through an Asian American anthology of poems All because it hurt so much to think about you hurt because I moved so slowly and in circles seemingly insensible to how you held a towel wide as your slender arms are long to fold around me shivering from the bathtub”

“I am amazed by peace It is this possibility of you asleep and breathing in the quiet air”

— June Jordan, Poem for Haruko / “Poem for my Love”

“I quietly call to you and you come and hold my hand and I say I cannot see beyond it. I cannot see beyond it.”

— Sharon Olds, “True Love”

“You do not always know what I am feeling. Last night in the warm spring air while I was blazing my tirade against someone who doesn’t interest me, it was love for you that set m afire, and isn’t it odd? for in rooms full of strangers my most tender feelings writhe and bear the fruit of screaming.”

— Frank O’Hara, “For Grace, After a Party”

“Dreamt last night I fed you, unknowingly, something you were allergic to.

And you were gone, like that.

You don’t have even a single allergy, but still. The dream cracked. Cars nosedived

off snow banks into side streets. Sometimes dreams slip poison, make the living

dead then alive again, twirling in an unfamiliar room.

It’s hard to say I need you enough.

Today I did. Walked into your morning shower fully clothed. All the moments

we stop ourselves just because we might feel embarrassed or impractical, or get wet.”

— Tara Skurtu, “Morning Love Poem”

“I want to be a village full of sweethearts, as you are, every second of the day, cooking me soups & drawing me pictures & holding me, my inexplicable & elephant sadness, with your infinite arms. But isn’t it true, you are not always why I am happy. & I promise it is true, you are almost never why, why I am sad.”

— Chen Chen, “Elegy for My Sadness”

“please one more kiss in the kitchen before we turn the lights off”

— W. S. Merwin, “Wish”

“To kiss a forehead is to erase worry. I kiss your forehead.

To kiss the eyes is to lift sleeplessness. I kiss your eyes.

To kiss the lips is to drink water. I kiss your lips.

To kiss a forehead is to erase memory. I kiss your forehead.”

— Mariana Tsvetaeva, “To Kiss a Forehead”

“Why did you call me at the office today?” “I had nothing to do. I wanted to hear your voice.”

— In the Mood for Love (2000) dir. Wong Kar-Wai

#w #compilation #james baldwin #marina tsvetaeva #w. s. merwin #chen chen #frank o’hara #june jordan #sharon olds #the earth was made for lovers

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sweetescapeartist · 3 years

Text

MY DBS MANGA CHAPTER 70 REVIEW

We learn in the last chapter that the Cerealian Dragon's name is Toronbo when Granolah speaks Namekian. Toronbo grants Granolah's wish but can't make Granolah stronger than the gods.

Here's the confusion I have... Goku is a mortal beyond GoDs so making Granolah the strongest mortal is making him stronger than gods. If you wanna say Beerus has been training and is now stronger than Goku, there's still a problem. It was said that Goku and Vegeta were stronger than some GoDs right before the ToP (but that might be anime only, so maybe it doesn't apply here). So Granolah is stronger than GoDs no matter what. If the gods that Toronbo is speaking of are the Angels, then that means Granolah is Ultra Instinct level of power since Goku is the lowest in Angel tier. But whatever. Bottom line is Granolah is temporarily stronger than Goku who may or may not be stronger than Beerus.

Granolah gets his wish granted and the cost is shortening his life... cool. Not much to say except let's see how its executed.

(I recently read that in DBXV2, during the Infinite History Saga, Videl is enchanted with Towa's Dark Magic spell by Dabura shaving off her life but granting her greater power. So granting power at the cost of lifespan has been done in DB before. Not in canon but in the games.)

Also, Granolah's life being shortened to 3 yrs got me thinking... Currently it's almost AGE 781 in the DBS manga timeline. Goku leaves to train Uub in AGE 784. We got 3 yrs left. The original manga shows Bulma said she hadn't seen Goku in 5 yrs. How I see DBS is that it is an alternate timeline that just happens to have a similar outcome to the EoZ.

So... why is Vegeta learing from Beerus again if Beerus isn't that strong now? Is Vegeta being like Krillin and continuing his learning from a master weaker than him, but gaining wisdom & knowledge? I-is Vegeta becoming Krillin 2.0?! (More like dollar-store Krillin)

I do think beerus got stronger tho. He seems very confident that Vegeta can get stronger from learning from him. Beerus probably saw Goku get UI then decide to train aftet the ToP

Anyways, Beerus is teaching us about hakai/destruction energy. Its erasing something from existence, not just destroying it (we already knew that). But, Vegeta quickly figures out how to do it anyways. By destroying a tiny pebble...

A tangent again but I personally think Piccolo is capable of easily learning Hakai energy. Think about it. Piccolo can create clothing out of nothing, why could he not do the reverse?

Goku is uninterested in what Beerus & Vegeta are doing. I dont know about you, but it sounds like Goku thinks that he's above Beerus in strength. Beerus & Vegeta aren't considered a challenge to him in any way. Goku sees UI as more important & better than anything Beerus has to teach, and Goku is right. Plus Goku learned Hakai on his own while Vegeta needs Beerus to teach him. It's a waste of Goku's time to learn it again.

(God Comics is funny. I imagine Toribot writes them)

Goku says "Let's see which one of us can be the strongest in the universe!" Really, Goku...? At present time, Goku is the strongest mortal in the universe already. He should know that. Then Vegeta for some reason thinks he will become the strongest in the universe. The last time manga Vegeta was the strongest mortal in the universe was... never. He's always behind Goku or whatever new opponent arises. This scene is meant to be comedic that they're arguing over who will be the greatest but it's not funny to me. And yet Vegeta fans still hold on for hope.

But why is Goku concerned about being the strongest between him & Vegeta? Goku is far above Vegeta. They're not rivals at this point. Also, Goku was the strongest in the universe until just a few moments ago. Goku should be saying "I knew bein' the strongest wouldn't last for too long. Roshi did tell me there will always be somebody stronger out there. Hehe! This is gettin' me excited! I can't wait to meet 'em!" (This would alsp parallel Monaito giving Granolah the same advice Goku already knows.)

Also, I guess Broly isn't that strong after all. Bye Broly, you served your purpose. And to think that Goku had said that he thinks Broly is stronger than Beerus...

Oh yeah. So Vegeta destroys a pebble. Impressive? Goku kinda gives a compliment or he is practically saying "Good job Vegeta! You're doing great following in my footsteps!" Seriously, this would be so much better and cooler if this seperate paths of training began right after the Universe 6 vs Universe 7 tournament. That would be the perfect spot to have them train under Beerus & Whis. [Vegeta using Hakai against Merged Zamasu, Goku able to fight Merged Zamasu temporarily because he is getting better at letting his body move on its own, Toppo & Vegeta using Hakai against each other as Goku & Jiren use power above GoDs. That would work so much better.]

Then Vegeta says he's gonna destroy bigger things soon... is that supposed to be more impressive? Its not. But this it to build up Vegeta even though there is nothing amazing about anything he is doing at the moment. Maybe later tho.

So Cerealians can't grow beards. Also I guess Granolah's race don't age? His hair grew when his lifespan was shortened but he has no wrinkles. It seems that they age more gracefully than Saiyans. If he has some wrinkles he would have looked cooler imo. Or those lines under the eyes at the very least. If the wish shortened his life & made his hair grow, it should have also showed that he aged. (Here's an edit I made of "Grampa Granolah." You're welcome)

And remember Vegeta destroying a pebble? Granolah can suddenly destroy big rocks! Cool right?! No? Its not cool? Showing Granolah destroy a much larger object right afterwards kinda belittles Vegeta's accomplishment.

Oatmil is surprised by a boulder exploding. This means one of 2 things. Oatmil is stupid & never saw an Granolah explode a boulder. Or it's implying that the boulder exploding is some technique Oatmil doesn't know of. Idk how he can tell its any different from just blowing up a rock with ki. I think it's supposed to be destruction energy. If it is then, ok. If getting his wish was so easy, then why can't he suddenly learn destruction as well?

Yay! Monaito! (This really should be a Namekian focused arc)

Granolah reminds me of Zamasu with his attitude a bit. Monaito tells him somebody stronger will definetly appear. Granolah has become like Vegeta and is over confident, so he is destined to get humbled. And think about this. Goku can probably train a bit and surpass Granolah within a week.

Granolah can now sense ki. Meaning he can have the destruction technique or UI, because why not?

Monaito blames himself for Granolah's actions. Its not your fault Monaito! You did nothing wrong! Dont be so hard on yourself.

Whis being a creep and peeping on people lol.

Granolah's hair growing was pointless because he cuts it off soon after. Nothing changed visually. This kinda reminds me of how Moro lost his arm. Goku gave him a senzu, Moro grew it back, & then Moro broke his arm when attacking Goku. Then Moro tore his arm off & reattached his old one. There was no need for Moro to grow his arm back then tear it off. Similarly, there is no need for Granolah to have grown long hair then cut it off.

Maki still brings a smile to my face. She & Gas stand out the most out of the Heeters. Maki's personality is kinda like Zangya combined with a teasing Bulma. Gas reminds me of a Krillin/Piccolo fusion with dreadlocks. I also ship Maki x Gas cause they're short and look cute together. (please don't be siblings so I can draw them together🤞)

Granolah fights Oil & Maki. I'm not impressed. They seem like they could be defeated by Chaoitzu (he's stronger than Raditz and probably Nappa now too). Granolah's movements could be seen as UI. If it is or isn't UI, it doesn't matter. Showing off that kind of power is like Goku using Ultra Instinct during a rematch with Nam or King Chappa. Its not effective storytelling. There had to be a better way of showing Granolah's new strength than making him fight opponents that give him zero challenge.

The art is good as usual and the panel flow is nice. Toyotaro is improving at creating the illusion of motion. The environment being used in the fight was smart and a good visual. Toyo still uses a ton of panels almost every page tho. But he's still a better artist than I am.

Granolah appears to have used Hakai again. Not the explosive variant but the sand variant (yes I think there are 2 ways of using Hakai).

The "Sand Variant" that Beerus & Goku (& maybe Granolah) have used.

The "Explosive Variant" Beerus & Vegeta (& maybe Granolah) have used.

Maki thinks the "Hakai" is magic so that's interesting. I would say I'd like for the next enemy to be a magic user but, we know how Moro turned out... 😓

Maki has "ki claws" & I like the idea but it would be better if she had used it against an enemy she can defeat. It doesn't make her look useful in this fight. Gas seems confident when he is about to fight Granolah, but Elec stops him. Gas would've gotten beaten but it make ya wonder what Gas can do.

Granolah appears to be a person that is easily manipulated and persuaded. He even gave information they weren't even asking for. He'll probably be easily convinced and manipulated by Freeza/the Hedters or quickly have a truce with Goku.

The Heeters plan to go to Planet Cereal to get the Dragon Balls. As I suspected, the Cerealian Dragon Balls were created so that it would be easy for wishes to be granted. Gathering 2 Dragon Balls on a nearby planet instead of gathering 7 on New Namek or Earth. Plus these new Dragon Balls ensures no interaction between Earthlings & Granolah/the Heeters. A perfect way to write Gohan & company out of the story... *sigh* 😔😒

We learn Cerealians live for 2 centuries. How's that compare to other races in Universe 7? Freeza & King Cold apparently can live more than 200 yrs, But that may be because they are mutants. Namekians can live for like 500 yrs & its possible for them to reincarnate themselves too. So in a way, Namekians can live forever. Saiyans stay youthful & live to be in their 80's, but rapidly age when they reach their 60's or 70's. Average Earthlings appear live to be in their 80's or 90's but some are over 100 yrs old (Dr. Briefs, Panchy, & Ox King are in their 90's in GT) and others can increase their lifespan through elixers or the Paradise Herb. Just some thoughts of mine.

Maki says "If he ices Freeza..." Ha, an ice pun. Elec wants to defeat Freeza so he can control his army. Its revealed they wanna kill Granolah & that they worked with Freeza to destroy his planet & race. Well... that more than likely means they're gonna die by Granolah's hand or Freeza's. This info is also an attempt to make the reader more sympathetic for Granolah. Granolah is too bland (pun intended) so I don't feel any more sympathy than I already had for him. Elec plans to make Goku & Vegeta fight Granolah since Granolah hates Saiyans. Smart but we all kinda expected it. Not bad writing tho.

The final panel talks about fate bringing the 3 (Goku, Vegeta, & Granolah) together. Sounds like a repeat of the Broly movie.

We've had 4 chapters in this arc & not 1 panel of Freeza... If Freeza doesnt appear & do something in the next chapter then I will be disappointed in the writing. Showing Freeza here and there would give tension and build up until we get the encounter with him. We also have no idea who Oatmil is. Is he an A.I. or a person? Not that big of a deal yet, but I would like to find out soon. Either show Freeza or tell us more about Oatmil next chapter pleaae

This chapter was like oatmeal (the food not the character) without butter, brown sugar, milk, & honey or raisins. Not bad, but not very good either.

So here's my thoughts on the things that could or could not happen in this arc.

Goku vs Granolah. I don't care for the fight because the power is at a point that it doesnt make sense for enemies to get to without cheating somehow. The fight will look cool but I have no interest in it.

Vegeta vs Granolah will have Vegeta being stomped as always and Vegeta fans will make excuses & complain how it's not fair. A lot of Vegeta fans often make fun of Yamcha & Krillin for getting beat up even though those 2 bravely fight opponents leagues stronger than they are. Vegeta has gotten stomped by opponents more times than Krillin & Yamcha combined but the fans gotta deflect somehow. I don't care to hear or see the complaining again.

The interaction and dialogue between Granolah & Vegeta is going to be more interesting than their fight. But I worry because Toyo isn't the best at writing dialogue.

I have no reason to care about power growth, certain interactions, or Goku & Vegeta's training.

What I am curious about/want to see?

Monaito's well being. I want him to reunite with other Namekians. But I think he's been set up to die.

Lore about the dragon gods & Namekian lore we probably wont get.

I want Piccolo, Krillin, Gohan, & others will be involved. Piccolo because of the Namekian & wosh granting dragon lore. Gohan because his interaction with Granolah eould be interesting since Gohan is half Saiyan & views himself as an Earthling. Krillin & other Earthlings because they can bring tensions where characters like Goku & Vegeta can't. Those 2 are too strong for there to be any real tension. However Earthlings aren't all powerful so them using wits to survive is more exciting. But I doubt any of their involvement.

How long a Cerealian year is? Is it shorter than a Namekian year? How much time will pass for the Cerealian Dragon Balls to be active? How much stronger than Granolah will Goku get? Hopefully the answers aren't lazy...

Will Beerus finally fight somebody? There are 6 mortals that are near or above his power (Goku, Granolah, Vegeta, Broly, Freeza, Gohan).

Who's the villian of the next arc & what explanation is going to be given for them having power on the level of Angels? Angel tier fights don't sound interesting to me anymore. After those kinds of battles, Goku will have no challengers left.

Will Goku disappear to train or something so the story can TRY to match up with the EoZ?

Will Goten, Trunks, & Marron hit their growth spurts within 3 yrs?

Will we get spin-off manga about other characters? PLEASE!? 🙏

Also DBS moved too quickly when it comes to power. Now we're at the point that Goku & Vegeta need to stop being involved in fights for there to be any actual threat or tension. The Buu saga took place in AGE 774. After training for 4 years of peace, Goku thought SS3 & fusion was his limits as a Saiyan and he was right. Well, kinda... Goku was introduced to god ki near the end of AGE 778. Then in AGE 781, Goku masters Ultra Instinct... He mastered an Angel technique in 2 year or 2.5 yrs. That was waaaay too fast. As a result the storytelling & writing are suffering from this rushed progress. Now we're gonna have an Angel tier opponent? According to the pattern of DBS, Goku's gonna end up surpassing the Angels within 2 or 3 yrs after learning god ki. Thats not impressive for Goku, that's terrible writing. And no, Goku getting this strong so fast is not a benefit to Saiyans either. It just shows us that without god ki, Saiyans ain't all that powerful unless they're the legendary Saiyan like Broly. Saiyans didn't even have a concept of training until Goku was trained by Earthlings. Gohan, Freeza, 17, & I'm pretty sure Piccolo as well have all surpassed SS3 without the help of god ki. God ki makes Saiyans look like they have limits. With god ki, the writing is broken....

I got off topic again... Anyways that's the end of my review.

#dbs manga review #dbs manga #dragon ball #db #dragon ball super #dbs #edited out the 10 yrs of peace because the original manga never says that

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generallybarzy · 3 years

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hey there, stranger. vi

one, two, three, four, five

an: two months after you first met mat, you’re back in the same little coffee shop, in much heavier moods than last time. // So after last chapter, i'm sure you're all upset about what's happening to our favorite cute new couple. What began as a cutesly fluffy fic is turning into something a lot more serious and tough. Because all relationships come with hardships, and working through them together is something they're gonna have to do. Another thing, please comment and send asks about this story!! Even though this isn't the biggest fic I've planned so far, I'm putting all my love into these characters and their situations hit close to home, and I'd really appreciate some feedback. warnings: mentions of domestic problems and violence (mostly verbal and mental), relationship doubts, talks of fear and self-worth tagging some lovely people: @sunflowertimothee @deleausvp @dunnwithlyfe @smit41 @softboybarzal @fallinallincurls @matbaerzal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @hockeyhughes11 @folkloreflyers @nazdaddy word count: 2.3k

You hadn't always been afraid of love.

But maybe you had, for as long as you could remember.

It began with your parents. They were unhappy, they argued, they fought, they pulled others into their arguments and eventually drew so far from each other that they were distant and cold to even their children. They seperated, violently and in the dead of the night, in the middle of your school year, and threw your life into a rollercoaster. It scared you. Made you feel, even as a young kid, that love just wasn't something that happened. Relationships didn't exist, love didn't exist without violence and arguments and fights. A perfect love was just not what you believed in. And even though it's true that every couple has their arguments, you believed that the fights were common. The yelling, the jealousy, the coldness, the raised voices, the fear.

The last time you truly, honestly were in a relationship, it was your highschool sweetheart. If he could be called that. You were 17 when you got together, you got in trouble together, turned 18 together, and graduated highschool together. He started out amazing, as amazing as teenage boys could get, but somewhere along the way he changed. But looking back now, you could never truly call him your sweetheart, even at his sweetest.

While you were studying endlessly to graduate high school with honors and applying to all the colleges and scholarships you could, your boyfriend was out partying and drawing further and further away, turning cold and careless. And though you hadn’t found out until afterwards, your boyfriend had spent the last six months of your relationship sleeping around with countless other girls behind your back. You didn’t find out until a sweet girl came forward and told you what he’d done, and that she was sorry and didn’t know he was taken.

“He’s not, not anymore.”

You found more proof. He didn’t even try to hide it, but you were too busy with school to notice all his tagged posts on Instagram, all the pictures of him openly kissing other girls while you foolishly had his name and a heart in your bio. You felt humiliated. When you finally confronted him, he laughed. As if he didn’t care that you found out. As if he was proud. “Maybe,” he looked at you with absolute lack of care in his eyes, “Maybe if you weren’t so fucking prude and put out a little more, I’d still care about you!”

The only thing you did right in that relationship was to break it off right there. You’d think, after saying he didn’t care about you, he’d leave. But even after you walked out that door for the last time, his number was one that constantly popped up on your phone. “Wow, running away like always, huh? Fucking bitch.” “No wonder no one wants you” “Always such a clingy bitch but never wanted to fuck. Maybe if you would’ve slept with me I wouldn’t have to find other girls to satisfy me.” “You did this to yourself.” He’d send you pictures of himself with the other girls, taunting, saying “This is what you’re missing out on.” He’d flaunted the fact that he cheated on you, as if wanting to humiliate you. As if it’s what you deserved.

And, for a long time after it ended, you believed him.

Did you think Mat was like that? Deep down, no. But something made you fearful to open up to any man ever again after what happened. You’d truly loved someone, as blind as you were, and it all blew up in your face, and now, you were convinced love only ended with a broken heart.

Mat sat across from you now, in this familiar little coffee shop, his eyes heavy and his brows furrowed in worry, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he watched you. His hair was the same as when you woke up tangled together this morning, dark and unruly after his morning skate, and he sat with his big hands resting on the table, just inches from your own, playing with his fingers- a nervous habit that you realized as of late and loved. Watching him scratch his wrists and crack his knuckles and fumble with his fingers was a strange sort of calming, and made you want to hold his hands in yours and kiss each joint and feel his skin against yours in that wholesome, comforting way. But he didn't reach out. He thought he did something wrong. He thought he ruined your relationship. He thought it was his fault.

“That's not how I imagined our first morning together would go.” He gave a sad smile, always one to try and lighten the mood, while his mind drifted to the daydreams he had had of waking up surrounded by your warmth and your arms and getting to kiss and snuggle into you before practice. He had always dreamed of that. The softness, the domesticity, it's what he craved. But before you could find the words to make it right, his voice dropped and shook. "So, our first 'talk', huh? What did I do?"

You couldn't find the words, and you just dropped your gaze to the table. His sad eyes made you feel so bad. "I'm so sorry, Mat."

"Why'd you run off?" The fear in his voice was enough to make your throat squeeze tight. He shouldn't feel this way. You really didn't deserve him.

"I just…" your mind raced to find an explanation for yourself. "I freaked out."

"About what? Help me understand. So we can fix it. Let me fix it, please." You looked up again, thinking you owed him at least your attention. His hazel eyes were glossy and as beautiful as always, searching yours for an answer, any answer, and you wanted nothing more than to tell him how amazing he was, to tell him this wasn't his fault. Someone as amazing as him should never feel pain. But you knew you had to open up to him.

"Listen." You reached your hands out on the table, centimeters from his own, and stopped just short of his fingertips, focusing your eyes on the smooth surface of the table. "You have so much love in you." You began. "That's one of things that I asked Rebecca for, remember? A big heart." You glanced up for only a brief moment to see his lips turn up a bit. "I need someone with a big heart, and I thought I could handle it right now, but…" When you trailed off, Mat spoke up softly, carefully, hesitant to interrupt you, but desperate for an answer.

"You can't handle me? Am I too overwhelming? We can slow down, even back up if you want-."

"Mat-"

"We don’t need to hang out as much as I’ve been trying to-”

“-Mat-”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry for interrupting you. And for being overwhelming."

There was no hint of sarcasm in his voice like there was in your exes, not judgement, no daggers, only pure care and genuine sorry. He hadn't raised his voice at you once, hadn't yelled at you for leaving a cold, empty hole next to him this morning like your ex would have. You found it refreshing to have a man speak to you so calmly, so gently, and carefully, and you realized that the last thing Mat wanted to do was mess this up.

And you felt the same.

He was quiet now, after his little outburst, waiting for you to say anything. "Maty," his eyes shot up to yours at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. You chose your words carefully, as carefully as Mat handled your emotions, as if one wrong word could shatter something amazing. "You're not overwhelming. You're amazing. It's me, it's my fault I can't handle it." There it is, Mat mused to himself, The 'it's not you, it's me'.

"No, don't say that..."

"Listen…" I've been hurt before. I'm sure you have too, but I got messed up." Mat let out an upset little huff, his eyes going even more soft and watching you gently, as if he wanted to make it all better and erase any memories of pain from your past relationships. "The only other guy I was ever seriously with… he made me feel like shit. Like I'm… unworthy of love."

"You're not." He spoke up fast, urgent, but delicate.

"I feel like I don't deserve how amazing you're being."

"Stop, (Y/N), please. Just shush." Mat shook his head, absolutely heartbroken you hear your confession. "I know what it's like to be hurt, shit, do I know. But you deserve so much better than any of your exes have given you. I know that."

Your throat was suddenly tight at his reassuring words. "He hurt me, a lot. I'm still so broken because of him. He humiliated me, made me afraid. Of men, of relationships, of love. It hurts, Mat… It hurts to try and love again when I've loved so hard and only known broken ends. It's hard for me to trust people, and it's so, so scary to jump into a relationship like this." You glanced up momentarily to meet his gaze, feeling absolutely embarrassed to be spewing all of this dramatic sob-story to him.

"You're not…? (Y/N), baby," he whispered, shaky, as if it might be the last time he called you that,, as if by tomorrow you'd be nothing more than strangers again.. "You're not… breaking up with me, are you?" Before you could respond, Mat continued one, as if he didn't want to hear the answer that he automatically assumed would be bad. "If you are, if you need some space or some time away from dating, that's alright, I'll respect that. But I think we can work this out. I'm willing to try."

For a second, you imagined going back to being single again after everything Mat had given you. You would never be able to forget him, forget what was, and what could’ve been. So you shook your head.

"No, Maty. I don't want to break up."

"Fuck, oh, thank god." He finally smiled, releasing the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding all day.

"The reason I freaked out so bad this morning, it wasn't the kiss, not really the cuddles either. I enjoyed those, even though they were a little awkward, being our first time and all…" you shared a little smile at that, at the memory of the first time you'd curled into each other and giggled and squirmed and talked, the most intimate moment of your relationship so far. "I like being with you, I just freaked because…. Well, Mat, I don't even know if you remember, 'cause you were asleep, but last night you said you love me."

It was a few long, quiet seconds, watching him process it in his mind, the look in his eyes going even more worried. His eyes widened as he sighed a nervous breath of air. "Shit, I did?" He reached up for a moment to scratch the back of his neck and his cheeks went a little red as he scrambled for his words. "I, uhh, heh." He let out an awkward, forced laugh. "I didn't mean for you to know so soon. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry about how you feel."

"Yeah, then neither do you." His fingertips grazed over the cool surface of the table and up to your warm hands, slowly, carefully, asking for permission. When you didn't flinch away or tense up, you felt his hands cup your own, and there, cradled in the palm of his hand, you felt okay. "You don't need to feel bad about panicking at that. That's a big thing I said, even I can understand that. We can back up a bit. Maybe I'm pushing too hard to force feelings. Let's just take it easy, alright? Just hang out casually a little longer before calling this a relationship. Just see where things go. That sound better?"

You shook your head, and Mat's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, wondering what else he could suggest. "No, Mat, I'm not suggesting we step back from this relationship. I still want to be with you, I promise. I still want to be your girlfriend."

His head dipped down shyly as he grinned at the table, still overjoyed at the thought of being with you. "I still want to be your boyfriend." He squeezed your hands in excitement, in content.

And you squeezed back.

"Good."

You knew Mat wouldn't kiss you, not before having that conversation about your boundaries, so you lifted his big hand to your lips and pressed a little kiss against one of his knuckles. He watched, his eyes wide and a content smile on his face, and slowly brought your own hand to his lips, reciprocating the appreciation.

"Well…" he spoke gently, lips moving against your skin. " Then what do you want to do? Continue as we were? Slow it down a little?"

"Just a little. I just needed you to know what you're dealing with with me. How scared I am to try this out again."

"Baby, we've all got our histories. Trust me, I would know. We all need different things in a relationship, okay? I'm not going to judge you for them. If your heart needs to be handled carefully, I can take it."

"Thank you."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

And so, he leaned across the table and cupped one of your cheeks with a big hand, his fingers still tangled with yours, and pulled you into the sweetest, gentlest kiss you'd ever felt. From the moment you brushed noses, a smile lit up your face. And in that kiss, you could feel his promise. That he'd treat you better than your exes, that he'd give you what you deserve, gently, carefully, and with your heart in mind. And you brought your hands up to trace his jaw, promising the same thing back.

"So," he smiled as he sat back down, cheeks pink from the kiss. "That last thing I want to do right now is rush this, but I uh, I got you a ticket for our next home game. Call it an early Christmas present. I was planning on introducing you to my friends afterwards, but I feel like you're not ready for that." He smiled, showing you that it was no big deal for him. He was adaptable. If you needed a change, it was easy. "It'd mean a lot to me to have you there, if you want to come?"

He still wanted you there with him even after you showed him just how broken you were. And you still wanted to be there, support him, share the passion he had for hockey. Watch him do what he loves.

You smiled, your thumb drawing gentle hearts on the back of Mat’s hand.

"There's nothing I want more."

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #reader insert #mathew barzal #fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #hey there stranger #op

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dirty-holy-things · 3 years

Text

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 18 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-17 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is 18+ and explicit. This chapter includes canon-typical violence and description of injuries. This is a very heavy and emotional chapter that explores feelings of grief, and while the ending of this chapter is positive (trying to avoid spoilers), please exercise caution if this is a sensitive subject. I will say though, that for all of the pain I may put y'all and these characters through, we will have a happy ending.

Words: 5.9k update, 86.8 total.

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Din nodded wordlessly at the man before moving to exit the shop; his business here was completed, and now it was time to go home. To go back to you, to hold and kiss you, and to try and keep this exciting new secret to himself. As his footsteps landed on the volcanic gravel of the city street, his attention was abruptly drawn to a loud crack and crumbling sound that echoed off of the buildings around him. The intrusive and unexpected sound snapped him right into high alert, needing to know the source of the sound — and needing to know where you were, if you were safe.

His feet couldn’t seem to move fast enough as he rushed through the streets, sidestepping merchant carts, droids, and young children that played without concern for the unexpected noise. His mind raced with ideas of all of the horrible things that could’ve happened to you — what if you got stuck in the middle of a shootout? What if something collapsed and you were crushed by it? What if someone had attacked you? He tried to recall if you had told him where you were going, before you had exited the cantina earlier; but despite wracking his brain, he couldn’t remember anything that offered any consolation or comfort. He wished that his feet would move as quickly as his mind was; his breathing grew more labored as he drew closer and closer to where he believed the sound to have come from.

“He looks through the wound of my life like it’s light. So I let him.” — Omotara James, Pier 52

Din’s fingers drummed ceaselessly on the sticky tabletop in the cantina, just wanting this exchange of pleasantries with Karga to be over so he could return home to you. What should have been a fifteen minute meeting turned into an hours-long event; at this point, having worked for the guild for countless years, Din knew he should expect this, but it still didn’t stop him from wishing for something better. These meetings were admittedly much more enjoyable when you accompanied him, as you were able to draw much of Karga’s attention and conversation, allowing Din to withdraw from the exchange; at least, until Karga made a comment out of turn, or a tasteless joke and Din had to remind him of the concept of boundaries. These meetings were a necessary evil, and yet you had somehow made even the more frustrating and mundane parts of his life into something exciting and enjoyable. You had brightened every aspect of his existence through your presence alone; your radiance was never lost on him.

Din was finally able to wrap things up with Karga, having successfully negotiated the next round of bounties after the man had been loosened up by a few drinks. Din was excited to share the upcoming destinations with you — he loved seeing the way that you lit up when you were exploring, learning, flourishing. He had feared before that he was holding you back, by keeping you to himself, but you were incredibly strong and fiercely independent, and you pursued your own interests and ideas with a determination that continually impressed him.

Din excused himself from Karga’s presence, having one more matter to attend to before returning to the ship to wait for you to rejoin him. He exited the cantina with a sigh of relief, happy to be freed of the space that was somehow both empty and all too full at the same time. The ground he walked on here was familiar, but his steps felt lighter now than they ever had before. It felt as though something had lifted the weight that resided on his shoulders, a weight that he hadn’t known existed until he met you.

Din had loved seeing the way that you had grown throughout your shared travels; you were like a sponge, soaking up everything the universe had to offer you. He loved seeing the way you lit up when you talked to him about the historical texts you had picked up, loved seeing you get excited by all of this new and undiscovered information. He was also somewhat secretly relieved that you were no longer thrusting yourself into unsafe situations simply in the name of profit; and once you had seen his somewhat disorganized but impressive financial records, you had come to the understanding that the bounty profit resulting from your assistance was... not entirely necessary. Being a man of few interests and slim personal expenses, he had been taking in almost purely profit from every job he had for nearly twenty years. He regularly supported the covert, ensuring that the foundlings could be cared for, but the money he had retained for himself had continued to grow over the years with very little to deplete it. He had never felt the need to spend exorbitant amounts of money on himself before; he hadn’t needed anything other than the Razor Crest and his beskar.

And now, all he truly needed was you and the kid. The ship, as significant as it was, was simply a vessel for the memories the three of you created there. It certainly held value and was special in its own right, but at the end of the day it was a mechanized hunk of metal and fuel. The memories created there would not continue to exist exclusively within the walls of the cabin — they would live on within the three of you. The ship wasn’t home — you and the kid were home, whether you were on Nevarro or Naboo. Steel was only ever steel; spirit was not as confined.

And that was precisely why he was meeting with a merchant to discuss the procurement of a new ship. Something nicer, newer, with better accommodations and more comforts than the Razor Crest could ever hope to offer. Din felt as though he couldn’t give you much in this lifetime, aside from love; he couldn’t turn back time to erase your past, couldn’t give you the tools needed to connect with the Force, couldn’t truly even give you the sight of his face. But he could do this; he could give you this.

He felt confident walking into the office of the local Bureau of Ships and Services liaison. Din knew that coordinating a purchase and acquisition of this magnitude would likely be more business and commission than this man had ever received in his lifetime; and while he knew that there would be a delay as he was not going through the primary office on Coruscant, he was quite relieved to be operating without their greedy and slick influences.

He made his needs clear to the nervous man that met with him; the small, thin man avoided eye contact with the narrow visor of Din’s helmet, and the thermal sensor indicated to Din that the man was sweating profusely throughout their entire interaction. Reviewing necessary requirements and components of this future ship, Din stated that he certainly needed something functional for work as a bounty hunter — hyperdrive, room for an armory and carbonite cargo — but he also wanted something with a galley, private quarters, something that would be nice for you. The man’s hands shook as he searched to find something that would meet these specifications, before eventually suggesting a S-161 yacht that would offer Din “both domestic and business spaces,” to quote the nervous man.

Din looked at the image of the ship that was projected onto the screen in front of him. The sleek shape and structure of the ship was certainly a departure from the bulkiness of the Razor Crest, but when he saw the interior cabin space, he could clearly picture you and Grogu playing in the lounge area; he could see both of your bodies occupying the larger bed space; he could see all of the memories that were yet to come.

Din paid the full amount for the ship upfront, and the man’s face went a bit green at the sight of so many credits. The man’s voice wavered as he informed Din that it would be about three or four weeks before the ship was available and accessible on Nevarro; and this was perfect as it would allow him time to complete the next round of newly-negotiated jobs, before bringing you back here for a surprise. He tried to picture the look on your face when he revealed the new ship to you; he was excited to see how you would react to the lounge area with a couch, a bed bigger than a data pad, everything shiny and new... and waiting for you and Din to christen all the untouched surfaces.

Before leaving, Din informed the man of one additional and seemingly superficial request. “I would like for something to be installed, that would allow one to... grow flowers. An artificial light of some sort.”

He recalled an off-handed comment that you had made about you can’t grow flowers in space, and how you had shared with him that your mother had taught you about floristry — it seemed to be one of the few positive connections you had to your past, and Din wanted to give you the ability to reconnect with this piece of your history, in a new and healthier way.

“S-sure, I’m sure something can be added to allow for that.” Din could hear the confusion and curiosity in the man’s voice, but luckily he knew well enough to keep his nose out of Din’s personal business. Didn’t need to know why a Mandalorian wanted to grow daisies.

Din came to a halt in front of a crumbling building, the entire west-facing wall having collapsed into itself; the dust from the destruction filled the air around him and he searched the scene with a furious desperation, needing to know what had happened, needing to know if you were here. Through the ash and dust that choked out the fading light of the sunset, Din saw a familiar frame that he would have recognized anywhere — and his heart leapt into his throat as he screamed out your name in fear and all-encompassing terror.

He tried to run towards you, needing to have his hands on you, needing to know that you were alright — but as he drew closer, the air around him felt heavier; it was as if he was trying to run through quicksand, his movements slowed, and requiring more force and exertion than they should have. It was as if there was some sort of barrier around you, preventing Din from getting any closer; and eventually, his ability to move towards you stopped entirely, an unseen and impenetrable wall keeping you apart from him.

But from this vantage point, being about five feet away from you, he could see that you were not alone in this crumbling alleyway. There was a hulking, almost-human looking man with gnarled and rough grey skin, with an evil-looking axe clutched in his massive fist; but something about this scene was... off. The man was large, but there was no discernible reason why his form should be elevated so far above yours.

The pieces finally came together when Din saw that you were standing in front of the man, feet planted firmly on the ground while your arm extended in front of you, muscles straining as your hand was balled into a tight fist...

The man was a marionette on strings, and you were the one puppeting him.

Din felt a sense of horror radiate through him with this realization, but in addition to the churning mix of fear and horror, there was also a tidal wave of relief that hit him as he realized that you were at least not the one in danger. He continued to scream your name, modulator cracking, but even as his vocal cords became hoarse and raw with the strain you never turned to face him; your gaze remained trained on the man who was levitating within your unseen grasp.

The man was desperately dragging his hands across his throat, as if he was trying to remove an invisible noose that had wrapped around it; Din saw the man’s eyes continue to bulge within his awful looking face, blood vessels popping with strain, before Din turned his gaze back to you and watched a rivulet of blood run through your fingers and down your twitching arm, spattering onto the ground below you.

He had never seen anything like this from you before; it was terrifying but he felt as though he couldn’t look away. Din realized that he had really only ever known you as an incredibly kind and gentle person, and that previous image of you now stood out in stark contrast to this indulgently violent, vengeful storm of a woman who held her ground before him. Every image he had of you was turned on its head, taking on additional depth and dimension, as he began to understand that there was much more to your personhood than just your affection and sweetness.

While he had never rushed to dismiss the past abuse you had suffered, he rarely had to confront the knowledge that you had lived a life of extreme and unyielding violence in the twenty-some years before you met him. Of course you would be capable of these things when under duress; he recalled that he had watched you stab the leader of a drug cartel within the his first few hours of knowing you. At the time he had written it off as self defense, and it certainly still was; but he may have been a bit naive to assume that would be the only episode of violence in your life. Maybe there was a piece of him that didn’t want to acknowledge that this facet of you existed; but whether he wanted it or not, it was a part of you... and yet he loved it all just the same.

He felt entirely helpless and useless as he looked on at the scene before him; he couldn’t breach the Force barrier that you had thrown up around yourself and the Delphidian man, but fuck, he couldn’t walk away from you either. In his peripheral, he could see that a small crowd of onlookers had gathered, curious and fearful eyes watching the dramatic scene play out in the town. Mind racing, Din needed to decide what to do — try and fend off the crowd, shield you from prying and intrusive eyes? Or would he continue to fight against this barrier in front of him, never abandoning his original mission of reaching you?

As Din was debating the options at hand, the tension of the moment came to a head and crashed like a tsunami throughout the demolished alley and its crowd of onlookers. And yet despite the deafening, instantaneous crash, it was as if the galaxy was simultaneously moving in slow motion; Din could almost feel the muscles in your forearm and hand constrict, as your wrist brought your bleeding fist into your chest; and the distinct and undeniable crack of bone made his skin crawl. He was no stranger to the sounds of death, but hearing it come from your actions made his stomach turn. His eyes were glued onto you, glued onto the scene that was rapidly unfolding in the wake of his inaction; he saw the hateful and fiery light behind the man’s eyes snuff out as the life left him. Din was familiar with death; he had brought about more bloodshed than was worth weighing, but seeing a life extinguished at your bidding was...

He couldn’t find the words, despite his best efforts. A torrent of emotions was tearing through him, ravaging every previously-held notion and shaking him to his foundations.

The barrier that had separated Din from you finally gave way, same as the Delphidian’s spine had. The invisible Force wall collapsed to the bloodied ground just as the man’s body did, and the sudden disappearance of resistance in the air caused Din to lurch forward into you, his arms extending outwards as he saw you sway precariously. Your full weight landed against his chest as you collapsed into his arms, and then two of you tumbled to the ground, the metallic sound of beskar clanging within the crumbled stone that surrounded you while he tried to cradle your broken-looking body gently.

Din recovered quickly from the fall, shifting to rest on his knees as he brought your limp form closer to him, your head coming to rest on his lap. He cursed the layers of armor and clothing that kept you separate, needing to feel the heat of the blood rushing through your body, needing to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each inhale and exhale. The way that your head lolled and rolled across him brought about a wave of terror and nausea as he worried that maybe he had been too late, maybe you were gone.

But he could still feel a faint and desperately-sought pulse beneath his gloved fingertips; he held onto this flickering bit of hope and pulled your body in closer to his chest, turning the two of you away from the observing crowd and the crumpled, distorted form of the man you had killed. He continued to hold you against his chest for an unknown amount of time, being paralyzed by the fear that any movement may disrupt the tenuous connection you held to this life; he was not sure how long he had stayed like this, cradling you against him, but it felt as though the moment stretched into eternity.

Din knew he couldn’t face the prospect of life in this galaxy without you. You had fundamentally altered and rewritten every piece of his existence, and he refused to go back to the life he had lived before he had met you. That previous life now seemed dull, almost as if it had existed in black and white, before that fateful day he had arrived in your shop — and since that chance meeting, you had brought all of the colors of life rushing to him, pinks and oranges and yellows and blues and greens and purples, a brightness that he had never felt before and worried he would never experience again without you. A life in black and white is an excruciating exercise in deprivation, after having experienced the beauty of technicolor.

And he couldn’t even begin to fathom the devastation that Grogu would experience, if you never returned home. The kid had taken to you as though you were his mother, and the thought of having to tell him that you were never coming back threatened to break Din’s heart just as irreparably as the Delphidian’s neck. Din knew that neither himself or Grogu would ever recover from this sort of loss, and it only made him cling to you even more desperately, praying to every god in existence that you would come back to him. He recalled how he had previously come to the conclusion that he would certainly lay down his life to save yours; and he now feared that he would never have the opportunity to save you as you had once saved him. He couldn’t use the Force to bring you back, he had no medical training to speak of, he felt entirely paralyzed by his lack of knowledge — and paralyzed by the idea that both he and Grogu, having been brought back to life by your hands, would now be the only living vessels for your spirit, the only proof that you had existed and had loved them wholly.

Din was anchoring every ounce of his hope to the faintly beating pulse of your heart when he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, the unexpected weight of it pulling him out of his reverie. His body turned to face this sudden intrusion, ready to fight whatever had disturbed his connection to you; until he saw the familiar face of Cara Dune, a concerned and saddened look on her face as she surveyed the state that you and Din had found yourselves in.

“We need to get her out of here.” Her deep and gentle voice somehow managed to cut through to Din, bringing him back into the present moment. She was right — he needed to get you out of here, needed to get you home, just as he had intended hours ago. You needed to recover at home, in the small bunk that now reflected the shape of your two bodies; needed to recover in the comfort of your own sleep clothes; needed to move away from the destruction you were now resting in.

Although Cara’s assessment was correct, Din’s shoulders cowed into yours, hunched by the overwhelming fear that any disturbance might be the thing to take you away from him. His head shook in response, the fear overtaking any sense of logic or reason; as Cara’s hands moved to your shallowly breathing chest, he growled and pulled you closer to him, feeling the limp structure of your body clashing with the unyielding beskar that covered him.

“Let us help you,” Cara enunciated softly, the concern evident in her voice. “She needs to recover at home, not here in an alleyway.”

Cara had always been good at finding the words that rubbed Din just the wrong way. She was right in her assessment that continuing to stay here, in the mess of blood and rubble, would not help you; but he also couldn’t stop the pressure that leapt into his throat as fear flooded his body, being terrified of hurting you further. She stepped in closer, her hands coming to rest at the bend of your knees, a subtle offering to assist with carrying you back to the Razor Crest, back home. Din pushed away his fear and shifted his focus to what you needed, not what his feelings needed. You needed Din to bring you home.

He felt broken, stuttered sobs wrench free from his chest as he stood up, gently cradling your upper body against him; the tears flowed freely behind the beskar, and he knew that nobody could see his blatant and unashamed display of emotions; but truthfully, he wouldn’t have cared, his concern for you outweighing any sense of self preservation or dedication to reservation. He was grateful that Cara kept her eyes to the ground, however, not trying to force a visual connection when he was clearly already distraught.

Din and Cara carried your body ever so gently into the cabin of the Razor Crest, being conscious of every bump and every step, before settling you softly into the comfort of the small bunk. The very same bunk that you had transformed from a place of functionality, to a place of love and sensuality. Din couldn’t imagine sleeping here, without you next to him.

Your body instinctively curled in on itself, recognizing the comfort of the bunk; your limbs drew closer as if you were retracting inwards to form a shield against the outside world. This innate and insistent need to protect yourself, that continued to present itself in even the most dire circumstances, broke a piece of Din’s heart that he hadn’t even known had existed. Watching your broken body fight for every breath, Din felt the need to do something to feel as though he was helping; he lifted your head up to allow you to rest you more comfortably on the singular and previously shared pillow, positioning you in the same way that he had seen you rest countless times before. Din cautiously and carefully tucked away the strands of hair that had fallen across your face, before pulling the woolen blanket tightly around your slowly breathing form; he tucked the corners of the blanket in around your body, knowing how you preferred to be wrapped snugly within.

Din had remained crouched next to the bunk, staying close to you so he could continue to watch your shallow but steady breaths, the rise and fall of your chest being the only solace he received during this whole ordeal. He waited for the color to return to your cheeks, watched for any fluttering of your eyelids that would indicate an awakening. He timed the breaths that you took, each shortened interval causing him to panic that something had gone horribly wrong.

Cara and Karga had been his saving grace throughout this entire ordeal as the days passed. The combined efforts of the duo had convinced Din to move from your side for long enough to shower, to use the restroom, to eat something and drink some water. Their coaxing reminded him that he couldn’t do much to help you if he was suffering as well. You seemed to rest in the bunk for an eternity, never tossing and turning as you usually would.

Din’s muscles had settled into the tragically familiar position of sitting next to you in the bunk, when Cara and Karga finally approached him to discuss the event that had occurred, unable to avoid it any further after countless hours had passed. Cara was the first to speak, her voice echoing softly throughout the cabin of the ship. “Bragant was a wanted target. She didn’t do anything wrong, by killing him, but I have a duty to report his death to the registers of the New Republic.”

Karga nodded at Cara’s statement. “He was wanted by many, and had a bounty on his head. I will pay you both for the body and its recovery.”

Din nodded wordlessly; he was not concerned about the man in the alleyway, was not concerned about any payment, was not concerned about anything except when you may come back to him. Your breaths had been even and steady for hours, and yet you had not woken up. He feared that you had suffered an irreparable, soul-shattering crisis and would never recover from this; and if that were the case, he still knew that he would never leave your side, preferring to waste away next to you rather than try and live a horrifically shallow life without you.

As several uncounted and painful hours had passed, Din waiting impatiently by your side, Din felt a shift within the steel walls of the Razor Crest, a gentle hum spreading throughout the ship and its inhabitants. Din’s gaze focused in on your face, searching for an explanation or answer about what was happening, what he was somehow feeling. After what had quite possibly been an eternity, your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown wide and disoriented as your gaze roamed around the location you had found yourself in.

Din choked on the laughter and tears that this moment had brought him, the overwhelming feeling of joy, relief, and disbelief crashing over him like an avalanche, drowning out all of the fear and desperation and hopelessness he had been experiencing just minutes earlier. Din thought he had previously cried out every tear that his body had to offer, but as he saw the light retuning to your eyes, the beautifully familiar eyes that focused in on the man they loved, he felt sobs cracking forth form his chest anew, threatening to break him in half — but this time, with the weight of happiness and relief. His hands reached out to cradle your face, loving how he could finally feel the heat of the blood that had returned to your cheeks. His head came down to rest against your chest as he cried with his whole body, shaking and sobbing as he whispered your name over and over, sending thanks to whatever deity or Force had deigned to bring you back to him, to bring you back home.

“Din,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and cracking; and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, more beautiful than the first time you spoke his name, more beautiful than the sounds you made in bed, more beautiful than your first confession of love for him. “Din, what happened?”

He could hear the nervousness in your voice, and as you had just returned to him, he was loathe to talk about something so terrible, to taint the joy that had filled the small cabin once again. His thumbs traced pressured circles into your soft body, his head continuing to rest at your side. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he sighed, his voice sounding strained and pressured through the tears. “Not tonight, please.”

You nodded and conceded easily, and amidst all of the upheaval of the moment he couldn’t help but laugh as he realized this was likely the first and last time you would ever give in so easily. You were beautifully, infuriatingly, insistently stubborn and he loved every single ounce of fight that burned within you. That same stubbornness kept you alive on Chandrila, brought Din back from the brink of death, taught you and Grogu new skills, and today that same fight and fire had brought you home once again. He would never, ever take a single second of your stubbornness and resilience for granted again.

Din could feel the echo of footsteps coming up behind him, and as his body shifted he felt his muscles and joints cry out with exhaustion; he had no idea how long he had been waiting here next to you, but his body seemed to have counted each second, each day, resentfully. As he repositioned himself, his aching body settled into the floor, his back being propped up against the side of the bunk as he tried to progressively stretch the muscles that he had previously irritated.

Cara and Karga had joined the happy and exhausted scene, the relief evident in their soft smiles. “Glad to have you back with us,” Karga said with a laugh, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling as he looked on at the two of you.

“Gave us quite the scare,” Cara added, before moving to pass a canteen of water to Din. He had come across very few individuals in this galaxy that he cared for, and he now realized that he was exceptionally grateful to know both Cara and Karga, as they had taken care of him during this period of upset, which in turn enabled Din to take care of you. And in a roundabout way, this had also allowed for them to take care of you. He wouldn’t have guessed that these two abrasive and tough individuals would make such an effort, would care for you in this way; but then again — the man hidden in a fortress of beskar hadn’t been impervious to your light and your charms, so it should come as no surprise that others loved you too. For all of your past injuries and mysteries, you were incredibly easy to love and willing to love others back with your whole heart.

Din brought the canteen up to you, encouraging you to have some water. The tenderness with which he cradled your head in the crook of his elbow and brought the lip of the container up to you shocked him a bit, as he hadn’t believed that someone as broken and violent as he was, could still have the capacity to show this much kindness. But clearly, you brought out the best in those around you; every individual in the ship could attest to that.

“The little guy can stay with me again tonight, so the two of you can get some rest,” Cara offered, knowing that both you and Din had a long road to recovery. “We can talk about things more tomorrow.”

Karga nodded in agreement. “My previous offer still stands, as well. But that’s a matter for another day. For tonight, find rest and happiness. The world will keep spinning in the meantime, and we’ll catch up with it tomorrow.”

The duo left the ship without any additional commentary, not wanting to intrude or disrupt the hazy sense of peace and exhaustion that had settled on the scene. As Din heard the ramp to the ship close, the cabin grew dark and quiet as it had so many times before — he had been terrified that he may have to face this darkness alone, but you were still here. From his seated position, he pried the armor off of himself; even these simple and routine actions felt exhausting, but he knew that the nightmare was coming to a close and he would be able to join you in bed shortly. You had drifted back to sleep as Din had readied himself for bed; a faint snore was coming from your sleeping form. As he stood and pulled off his dirty clothing, he paused before getting into bed with you. There was something else he wanted to do first.

His calves and his lower back cried out as he walked across the dimly-lit cabin, to the corner that held your things; he gathered your favorite maroon-colored sleep clothes and your medical kit, before crossing back over to the bunk that you slept in. He carefully brought your injured hand closer to him, before cleaning the cuts that your nails had made; he put on a salve that he had seen you use for wounds before, and then wrapped your palm securely with gauze. He repeated the same steps for the wound that was on your chest, placing a large adhesive bandage over the area. He would’ve given anything to be able to use the Force to heal you, as you had done for him numerous times; how infuriating that something so purportedly pervasive and innate was also so fickle and finicky.

Feeling confident enough in his medical administrations, he then began to exchange your dirtied and damaged clothes with the soft, comforting fabric of the sleep clothes. He moved slowly, not wanting to disrupt or scare you; and he felt incredibly grateful for each beat of you heart that he could feel throughout your body, could feel pulsing underneath your skin.

He finally moved to join you in the bunk, shifting your pliant and willing body to allow him room to rest next to you; as he sunk into the cushions, he wrapped the two of you in the blanket like a cocoon. He realized a bit belatedly that he had left a light on in the cabin, the faint light casting the room with a yellow glow; he knew he should get up to turn it off, seeing as how he had removed his helmet; but as you nestled closely against him, he decided to let it be.

He kissed you repeatedly and ceaselessly, feeling endlessly grateful that this chapter of your shared story had ended on such a hopeful and positive note, when it could have ended in tragedy. He wanted to sink his teeth into this moment, to feel the joy that burst from it like an overripe fruit that falls from the vine. He knew that as long as he lived, he would never tire of this sweetness.

He sighed your name into the nape of your neck, and whispered a soft ‘I love you.’

Your eyebrow raised at his words, allowing for one of your eyelids to open ever so marginally before it drifted closed again; a quiet, “I love you, Din,” passing through your lips with an exhale.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #Din Djarin fic #Din Djarin x reader #Pedro pascal #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #the space between

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corrupt-fvcker · 4 years

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Masterpiece (Obi-Wan Kenobi x gn!Reader)

Masterpiece ( Obi-Wan Kenobi x gn!Reader )

Warning: nothin’ but fluff and shirtless obi-wan, i wrote this as gender neutral but PLEASE message me if there’s any concerns (aka i fucked up and used pronouns)

Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: just a quick piece about reader getting caught drawing obi-wan. had a lot of fun writing this, hope y’all enjoy. one hundred percent inspired by a daydream i had when procrastinating homework. my requests are open!!

Obi-Wan looked ethereal. It was storming on Coruscant, raindrops incessantly pattering against the glass of the viewport as distant shuttles raced through the ebony night sky. Your apartment was silent other than the soft crackling of the fire Obi-Wan had constructed, your living room tainted a warm orange from the reflection of the dancing flames.

Your shirtless boyfriend hadn't spoken a word for over an hour, quietly sitting cross-legged on the glossy floor facing the fireplace. His freckled back was straight, strong forearms resting on his thighs with his calloused palms open to the ceiling. Your eyes followed the curve of his spine, admiring each and every mole and battle scar that painted his skin. His shoulders were broad from years of fierce training, the pale skin dusted with a flurry of tan freckles. You diverted your gaze to the back of his head, his auburn hair in need of trimming and still slightly damp from his shower.

It was his second night back from a particularly long mission, and it must've been tedious because he was keen to dismiss any conversation regarding the three-week-long battle, no matter how many times you insisted that you'd rather talk about it then have him bottle it up. But even though he was with you now, back home safe, you knew that your Obi-Wan wasn't exactly here. His body was roughly three paces away from the couch you were perched in, but his mind was much further.

Meditation had been a regular practice for Obi-Wan ever since he was a padawan, and you had to entertain yourself when he followed through his routine of meditating at sunrise and sunset. The thought of you being awake at sunrise was comical, which luckily meant that Obi-Wan was back in your shared bed with you by the time you stirred awake. But every night, you were forced to leave your lover alone for an hour or so -- which should've been easy, except you missed the ever-living hell out of him.

Though over time you grew used to the hour of alone time Obi-Wan's routine meditations offered, you learned to busy yourself. But you weren't going to give up so easily, you were going to spend time with him even the general was half-unconscious and unintentionally ignoring your fabulous company. So every night when his cerulean eyes fluttered shut and his chest rose and fell at a suspiciously slow pace, you drew him.

There was something so incredibly peaceful about Obi-Wan meditating, a silent beauty that begged to be captured on paper. Obi-Wan never looked so relaxed, all the worry and tension in his muscles melting from his body like hot wax.

Tonight, Obi-Wan had been silent for much longer than usual, nearly two hours as you focused on the finishing details of your sketch. And you were actually proud of your work, which you always found difficult when it came to any of your art. You had finally managed to capture every flicker of beauty Obi-Wan possessed, and even if it was just a drawing, it was undeniably him.

You smirked, gazing down at your sketch with only a twinge of scrutiny lacing your mind. His hair wasn't quite right, you'd struggled to add texture to it without making the back of his head look like a bird's nest. And his back was actually a bit more muscular than the slightly leaner version carefully etched onto the paper. Nevertheless, you were pleased with tonight's drawing and you blew away the eraser shavings with a small puff of air from your pursed lips.

Now all you had to do was outline the pencil sketch with a black ink pen, which was always a frightening task but you could never claim your drawings to be officially finished without the black outline.

You quietly stood from the plush cushions of the couch, setting your sketchpad down on the sofa before you ventured into the office to fetch a pen.

When you returned to the living room, your heart stuttered.

"Don't look at that!"

Obi-Wan had moved from his spot on the floor, leaning into the couch as he examined your art with precision, his pupils carefully following every faint wispy line of your pencil's graphite. Your stomach was rolling, your face suddenly feeling hot as Obi-Wan reluctantly tore his gaze from the drawing to look at you.

"Did you make this?"

No reason in denying it, the skin of your hands stained from your pencil and your signature was undeniable scribbled in the right bottom corner of the page as well as the front cover.

"Uh, yeah," you answered timidly, unmistakably embarrassed. It was one thing for someone else's eyes to even look at your artwork, but it was entirely something else for Obi-Wan to see not just your drawing but a drawing of him. Obi-Wan -- the man that has spent his entire life living in his body, who knows it better than anyone, looking at an imperfect reflection that you drew.

You swallowed thickly, beginning to panic when Obi-Wan continues to silently examine the sketch. "I know it's not perfect, I'm not the best artist. I don't think I really did you justice." You try to say this with a smile and glimmer of humor in your voice, but you knew that you plainly sounded nervous.

"It's... amazing," he spoke softly, eyes flitting between you and the paper. You hadn't moved from the doorway, feet stuck in place like your body had been frozen in carbonite. Obi-Wan's rosy lips curl into a soft grin. "You're amazing."

Relief floods your system, like a dousing of refreshing water. You were just glad it didn't weird him out that you stared at him for two hours while he was meditating (though you had a hunch that he was guilty of watching you in the morning while you were still asleep).

"Really?" You questioned, eyebrows furrowing. "I think it's off."

Obi-Wan shook his head in disagreement, smiling down at the paper. "No, I think it's perfect. A masterpiece."

You couldn't help but laugh, watching Obi-Wan stare at the drawing with an expression of pure adoration. "You just like it because it's a picture of you."

Obi-Wan huffed out an amused chuckle, the wrinkles that etched the corners of his eyes creasing as he turned to look at you. "Maybe," he teased, "but I know you're far more talented than you give yourself credit for."

You crossed your arms over your chest, silently dismissing his compliment as you ventured over to sit beside him. He opened his arms, allowing you to lean against his side and his strong arms surrounded you as he continued to gaze down at the piece of art. He was warm, invitingly so, and you thanked the Maker that Obi-Wan hadn't tugged on a shirt after his shower.

"Can I keep this?" Obi-Wan asked, the vibrations from his voice thrumming throughout his entire body.

Your head was nestled into the crook of his neck and you pressed a chaste kiss to the warm skin. "Of course."

Obi-Wan smiled, setting the page down carefully on the thick armrest of the couch before firmly securing his arms around your waist. He pivoted on the cushions, swinging a leg behind you before tightening his grip on your waist and dragging you up his bare torso, his skin providing more warmth than the fire ever had to offer. He relaxed into the throw pillows that lined the armrest, leaving both of your bodies at a comfortable angle. His breaths were soft and slow, ghosting over the top of your head.

"I missed you, darling," he promised, his voice low and laced with undeniable exhaustion.

A soft smile flickered over your features, hugging his arms that were loosely wrapped around your body. "I miss you too."

Obi-Wan pressed a delicate kiss to the crown of your head. "And you're so beautiful."

Now you were grinning.

What a complete sap.

"You're just saying that because I drew you."

Amusement shadowed over Obi-Wan's face but he shook his head. "No, I'm saying it because I love you."

You rolled your eyes playful. "Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just stop snooping in my sketchbook."

A moment of silence drifted between the two of you, and for a second you assumed that Obi-Wan had fallen asleep.

"Is there more?"

Your mind is cautiously blank, raising an eyebrow even though he can't see it from behind you. "More what?" You replied hesitantly.

"More drawings," he answered simply.

More drawings of him, you figure he means.

"Uh... no?"

Apparently not nearly as convincing as you needed to be.

Long fingers dug into your sides and you unwillingly shriek, jolting off of Obi-Wan and tumbling to the floor with a hollow thump.

"Hey!" You frowned, lifting your head up to face the bastard except he's already running off with your sketchbook tightly grasped in his hands.

Oh shit.

"Give it back," you hollered, racing after him but he'd already locked himself in the refresher. You pray that his ego doesn't enlarge too badly once he sees the nude images you drew from memory.

Yeah, you were screwed.

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #ewan mcgregor #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #corrupt-fvcker #my writing #reader insert #self insert

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